#anyone else doing edits instead of writing something new?

[cherrystaineddoll]

𝓽hings to do instead of scrolling ౨ৎ

summer is here, school is over and you have way too much free time on your hands. so unless you want to spend your whole days with your eyes locked on a screen, here's an in- depth guide on what to do this summer, or whenever!!

learn a new language - trust me, speaking more than one language is a skill that everyone should have, and it always comes in handy. you can watch tv shows, movies or youtube videos in your target language, read beginner books, use apps (not duolingo though.. ) and even just listen to music!! just expose yourself to the language as much as you can, even better if you know anyone you can have conversations with. you could also learn sign language!!

journal or scrapbook - writing down your feelings really helps understanding your own self more. you can try doing shadow work to really dive deep, or just write whatever you feel in that moment. it doesn't have to become a chore, and remember, write for yourself and not as if someone else was going to read!! as for scrapbooking, just print out some nice photos and decorate the pages with stickers, drawings, fun colored paper.. whatever you want, just be creative!!

make art - it doesn't have to look perfect, remember that all art is beautiful in its own way. even if you think you're not good at it, just create, it will help you feel better & you'll also get better with time!! you can draw, paint, sculpt, do pottery, etc. you don't have to follow any guidelines, just buy a random sketchbook, bring out your inner child and do whatever you feel like doing

learn how to play an instrument - this can be a bit expensive, but if you have any instrument in your house that you've never used, it might be a great time to start learning it!! you don't necessarily need to take classes, you can easily find tutorials on youtube, even though it might be harder to learn by yourself. but making music is a really fun activity & good for the soul

reading and writing - i will never recommend reading enough !! everyone should read. it helps you learn new things, understand different perspectives, expand your vocabulary, and so much more. i know books can be expensive, but you can always try to buy them at flea markets, or ask a friend/family member to lend you some. and just in case, there are always some sites where you can read books online for free, like zlibrary!! you can read before going to bed instead of staying on your phone (which is sooo bad for your sleep), at the beach while tanning or outside while getting some fresh air. and if reading books inspires you, you can try to write something!! i'm not saying you have to write a 600 page book, but you can try to write small stories, or poetry, and who knows, someday you might actually write a book! if you want to get published, there are some small literary magazines you can find on social media that publish the works of small writers, it can be a great way to start. you can also always post your works here on tumblr, substack, or any social media platform!! you could also try to write the story for a movie and start screenwriting, if you're into cinematography

research interesting topics - now that school isn't forcing you to study things that maybe you don't care about, you can study whatever you want !! remember, knowledge is power, and with the internet, you basically have the world in your hands. you can watch a youtube video, read a book, or simply research on websites (make sure they're reliable though). you can also take online courses!! i might make a post on ideas for what to research??

start a new hobby - your life can't only be made of school/work, sleep, and a screen. you need hobbies that you actually like and that make you feel good. some of these can be: baking and cooking, crocheting, knitting, embroidery, jewelry making, nail art, makeup, photography, editing, blogging/vlogging, coloring, candle making, soap making, perfume making, modeling, origami, sewing, making diy stuff, chess, puzzles, acting, singing, flower arranging, meditating, lego building, trying new hairstyles or outfits, doing animations, discovering new music, sudoku, the things i previously wrote, and probably a million other activities i can't think of right now

stay active - moving you body is good for both your physical and mental health, i'm sure we all know that. you can go on walks or runs in the nature with your headpones on, or do any sport that you like- some ideas: swimming, dancing (ballet, hip hop, modern, ecc) , tennis, martial arts (judo, karate, taekwondo, ecc), volleyball, basketball, athletics, gymnastics, football, archery, fencing, table tennis, boxing, surfing, rowing, hockey, horseback riding, softball, golf, biking, figure skating, rollerblading, skating.. you don't need to do it competitively (unless you want to), as long as you're having fun and moving your body. you can also do workouts, like yoga or pilates, at home or outdoors, or go hiking.

watch movies, tv shows, or documentaries - it can always be a good learning experience, or just something fun and relaxing that isn't mindlessly scrolling. a bonus: after you've watched something, write a very long, detailed and in-depth review in your journal. you can also post it wherever you want (like letterboxd, to fight all the one liners)

hang out - with friends, family, or even by yourself !! (i know, i know, it can be scary). you can do anything, as long as you're with the right people everything is fun, but here's some ideas: have a picnic, go to the beach, go to a water park, have a baking contest, do temporary tattoos, go to a concert, go out to eat, do a one day trip, go on a road trip, take a walk in the nature, go hiking, go to a trampoline park, go to an amusement park, visit a museum, go thrifting or shopping, have a board games night, try out a new cute cafe or bakery, do an escape room, have a karaoke night, have a movie marathon, and so much more!!

i hope this helped!! ♡

[inseobts]

Hello!! I just found ur blog and I really like ur writing ☺️ I would like a imagine/scenario with fem!reader, she is in a relationship with the captain trio (kid, law and Luffy) just some silly things about them arguing about with boat she should stay for the next time (the captains are not with each other, they kinda "share" the reader) I also would like it fluffy please 😊 I'm sorry if that's confusing, English is not my first language

Three Boats, One Heart

law + kid + luffy x fem!reader (poly relantionship)

a/n: okay idk if I did it good but I loved that I didn't have to choose just one lmao

words count: 3.9k

tags: fluff, captain trio x reader, poly-ish, jealousy, silly arguments, established relationship/s

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The wind is soft today. The sea is calm. You’re smiling.

You should have known peace wouldn’t last long.

“I told you she’s staying with me this time!” Kid’s voice booms across the small island harbor, arms crossed and lips curled into a scowl. His red hair shines under the sun, making him look even angrier than usual.

“No,” Law says flatly, not even looking at Kid. His cold eyes are on you “She said she’d stay on my submarine this week. We made plans.”

“Plans?” Luffy cuts in, loudly. He’s already clinging to your arm like a koala “But she promised me meat night on the Sunny! That’s way better than boring submarine plans!”

“I didn’t promise—” you try to speak, but your words are drowned out by the three men yelling over each other again.

“She likes spicy food! My chef makes it best!” Kid growls.

“She said she wanted to read that book I found. That’s on my ship” Law shoots back, tightening his gloves.

“I have hammocks! And sea kings to see! And fun! You’re boring, Law!” Luffy huffs.

You stand there, blinking slowly, while your boyfriends, three of the most dangerous men on the sea, argue like kids in a candy store.

“Why don’t we let her choose?” Law finally says, raising an eyebrow “She has a mouth.”

“Yeah, and it’s gonna say Kid’s ship” Kid smirks.

“Meat night!” Luffy shouts again.

You sigh, putting your hands up.

“Guys. Guys. GUYS!”

They freeze. All three turn to look at you. Luffy’s eyes are wide. Law’s brow twitches. Kid grumbles something but shuts up.

You smile sweetly “How about… I choose after dinner?”

“No!” They shout in unison.

“Of course you’d wait until after meat night” Law mutters to Luffy.

Kid rolls his eyes “Typical.”

“Alright, alright,” you laugh “Then I’m flipping a coin.”

Three voices, instantly:

“No fair!”

“Unscientific.”

“Do two out of three!”

You take a deep breath.

This is your life now.

And honestly?

You wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The sun dips lower in the sky, painting the clouds pink and orange. You sit on a crate at the edge of the harbor, swinging your legs. You should be relaxing.

But instead…

“Y/N.”

You blink. Law’s standing in front of you, quiet and serious. Too quiet. You squint suspiciously.

“What are you hiding?”

“…Nothing.”

He sits beside you. Then, very slowly, he pulls something from his coat.

Your eyes widen “Wait. Is that...?”

“The new novel from the Baterilla Book Fair,” he says calmly “First edition. I used Room to grab it before anyone else could.”

You gasp “Law!”

“I thought you’d appreciate it. Since you ‘haven’t had quiet reading time in weeks’.”

Your heart flutters. He even remembers that?

Before you can thank him, a loud clang rings from behind.

“Killer, give me the tray! Move!”

You turn just in time to see Kid stomping toward you with a whole plate of your favorite spicy dumplings. His metal arm is holding the tray like a fancy waiter. It’s kind of terrifying.

“You like food more than books anyway, right?” he says, shoving the plate into your lap.

“Excuse me?” Law snaps, standing up.

“Chill, Surgeon Freak. You can read your little book while she eats my food” Kid smirks.

You glance between them.

“…Are you two trying to bribe me?”

“No” Law says.

“Yes” Kid says at the same time.

“MEAT NIGHT!!!”

Both men nearly jump as Luffy appears out of nowhere, hanging upside down from a tree branch above you like a happy little menace.

“I saved you the biggest steak!” he grins “And I got Usopp to make you a sea cow milkshake! You have to come now!”

You burst out laughing.

All three of them stare at you.

“Okay,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye, “this is getting ridiculous.”

“You’re ridiculous” Luffy mumbles into your hair, now fully clung to your back like a backpack.

“Don’t touch her like that...” Kid growls.

“She’s not yours” Law adds.

“She’s mine right now!” Luffy says proudly, kicking his feet in the air.

You let out a long sigh, smiling at them all.

“Alright. How about this. Since you’re all going the same way, I spend one day on each ship. Three days, three ships. Fair?”

They look at each other. Then at you.

“…Fine” Law says first.

“Tch. I guess that works” Kid mutters.

Luffy hums “Only if I get to keep her the fourth day!”

“What fourth day?”

And just like that, they’re bickering again.

You sit back with your plate of dumplings, the new book in your lap, and Luffy still clinging to you like an overgrown plushie.

Yeah. Life is good.

The moon is up now. The island is quiet except, of course, for your three boyfriends standing in a triangle around you, arms crossed and eyes sharp like you’re about to make the most important decision in the world.

You hold up the coin “Heads is Luffy. Tails is Law. If it lands on the edge, I go with Kid.”

Kid’s eye twitches “What?!”

“Relax,” you smirk “It’s a joke. Two rounds. First flip is Law versus Luffy. The winner faces Kid. Final flip decides who gets me first.”

They all freeze.

“…That’s so dumb it might work” Kid mutters, crossing his arms.

“I accept this tournament” Luffy says seriously, like it’s a sacred honor.

Law just sighs “We’re gambling for time with our girlfriend. Ridiculous.”

“Still playing, though?” you smirk.

“…Obviously.”

You clap your hands once “Alright. First round: Luffy versus Law. Heads for Luffy, Tails for Law. Let the Coin Games begin.”

You flip it high. All three captains tilt their heads to watch it spin.

Clink.

“Tails!” you call “Law wins the first round!”

“HAH,” Law smirks, pushing his hair back “Try again next time, Straw Hat.”

“NNNOOOO!” Luffy drops to his knees like you just told him meat is illegal “I wanted to go first!”

You pat his head gently “So cute. It’s Law vs. Kid now.”

“Easy,” Kid scoffs, stepping forward “He’s going down.”

Law rolls his neck like he’s prepping for a fight “I hate this coin.”

You flip again.

It spins.

Clink.

“Heads,” you say, blinking down at it “Kid wins.”

Kid raises both fists in the air “HELL. YES.”

Law just stares in silence, his soul briefly leaving his body.

“I lost to him?” he whispers.

Luffy’s already back on his feet, grabbing your hand “I love this game! We should do this every week!”

Kid grins down at you “Guess who’s staying on the Metal Queen tonight?”

You sigh, half-laughing, half-panicking.

“Fine. Kid wins this round. But you two get your turns after, okay?”

Law and Luffy both grumble in unison but nod.

You don’t miss the way Law mutters “best two out of three” under his breath.

Or how Luffy is already planning “revenge”.

Aboard the Victoria Punk, the ship smells like oil, metal, and faint spice from the kitchen. It’s loud. Messy. Kind of chaotic. Very Kid.

He walks with you through the deck like he owns the world. Probably because he thinks he does.

“You’re not cold, right?” he asks suddenly, pulling off his heavy coat and tossing it around your shoulders without warning.

“It’s warm” you say with a soft smile, hugging it around yourself.

He scratches the back of his neck, looking away “Yeah. Whatever.”

Later, you sit in his workshop while he tinkers with something strange and sparking. He lets you sit on the counter, tosses you tools when you ask, and only yells a little when you nearly press a self-destruct button.

“I like when you’re here,” he mumbles, not looking at you “Ship feels less… noisy.”

You blink “Kid. Your ship is always noisy.”

“Exactly.”

You chuckle, reaching down to brush a bit of oil off his cheek. He catches your hand and presses a kiss to your palm like it’s no big deal.

You don’t tell him your heart stutters. He doesn’t need the ego boost.

You wake up in Kid’s room. It’s not as scary as people would think. Sure, there’s a pile of gears in one corner and his desk looks like a mad inventor lives there (he kind of does), but the bed is surprisingly soft.

Probably because he shoved every blanket on the ship onto it last night.

You stretch, blinking as the first rays of sunlight sneak through the window. A heavy weight is across your waist.

You look down.

Kid’s metal arm is draped over you like a guard rail. His face is pressed into the pillow beside yours, red hair a mess, mouth slightly open. He’s snoring. Just a little.

You try to move.

The arm tightens.

“…Don’t” he mutters, still half-asleep.

“I need to pee.”

“…Hold it.”

You snort “Wow. Romantic.”

He finally opens one eye “You got somewhere else to be?”

“I mean, eventually? The deal was one day each.”

“Tch.” He flops onto his back, metal arm now resting across your stomach like a very heavy paperweight “Not a good deal. Should’ve fought harder.”

“You won.”

“Yeah. But now I gotta give you up.”

You pause.

“…Did you just say something sweet?”

“No. Shut up.” He throws a pillow at your face.

You toss it back.

He catches it midair, grinning “You really like that coin more than me, huh?”

You smirk “The coin doesn’t snore.”

“Liar. Coin’s boring. I’m way more fun.”

He leans in and kisses you hard, no warning, no softness. It’s all teeth and heat and Kid. He pulls back just enough to murmur “Next time, I’m not letting that stupid surgeon or Straw Hat touch you for a week.”

You raise an eyebrow “Jealous?”

“Damn right I am.”

You wrap your arms around his neck “Then make this day count.”

He grins.

Challenge accepted.

Later on you stand at the edge of the harbor, bag over your shoulder, Law’s submarine already waiting in the water like a quiet shadow. You can see Shachi waving from the deck. Bepo’s holding a handmade welcome banner. It’s adorable.

Behind you, Kid is scowling like he just bit into something sour.

“You don’t have to go, you know” he mutters, arms crossed. His metal arm whirs softly as he flexes it without meaning to.

“I do,” you say, turning to face him “We had a deal.”

“Deals can be broken.”

“Not this one.”

He glares at the submarine like it insulted him personally “Stupid bathtub ship.”

You smirk “Aww. Are you gonna miss me, Captain Angry?”

“…No” he lies.

You step closer, rising up to kiss his cheek “Well, I’ll miss you.”

He shifts awkwardly, lips twitching like he’s fighting a smile. But when you start walking away, he follows behind you like an annoyed cat.

You reach the dock. Law’s crew starts lowering a little platform to pick you up.

Kid frowns deeper “This is dumb.”

“Don’t start” you sigh.

“I don’t like this.”

“You agreed to this.”

“Under protest.”

You glance back at him, amused “Come on, Kid. Sharing is caring.”

That does it.

“I share nothing with them!” he snaps, voice echoing.

You turn around slowly, tilting your head. Then you smile. Not teasing. Not smug. Just soft.

“You do,” you say quietly “You share me.”

Kid blinks. His jaw clenches.

You can almost see the NO I DON’T forming on his lips, but he doesn’t say it.

He looks at you and his scowl twitches into something closer to pain “That’s different.”

“I know,” you whisper, stepping up to him one last time. You press your forehead to his “But I come back. Every time.”

He exhales through his nose “You better.”

“I will.”

“You better wear the coat I gave you. It smells like me.”

“…That’s why you gave it to me?”

He shrugs, smug again “Marking my territory.”

You shake your head, laughing, and step onto the lift as it takes you down toward the sub.

Kid watches the whole way, eyes sharp, arms folded tight across his chest.

You wave.

He doesn’t wave back but you know he’s still watching, until the sub door closes behind you.

The inside of the Polar Tang is calm, quiet, and weirdly clean. After the wild noise of Kid’s ship, it’s like walking into a library, if libraries smelled like antiseptic and steel.

Bepo meets you at the entrance with the banner still in his paws.

“Welcome aboard, Y/N! Captain said you’re not allowed to do any chores. And also that we have to ‘give you space’ but I don’t know what that means!”

“Thanks, Bepo,” you giggle “He’s just being dramatic.”

“I heard that” comes Law’s voice from down the hallway.

You walk toward it, dragging your bag behind you, and turn the corner to find him already leaning against the wall, arms crossed, trying to look bored.

He looks at you for one second too long.

You raise an eyebrow “What?”

“You’re five minutes late.”

“I know, Kid was being… Kid. But I’ll make up for it.” You smirk.

He glances away “Good.”

You roll your eyes and keep walking “So what’s the plan? Books? Tea? Staring at walls in silence?”

“I made a schedule.”

You freeze “You… what?”

He pulls a folded paper from his coat pocket “It includes meals, reading time, coffee breaks, and precisely two hours of optional nap time.”

You stare “You made me a day plan?”

“It’s important to have structure.”

You press your lips together “You’re such a weirdo.”

“You’re the one who dates me. And I’m the most normal one here and out there.”

You both smirk.

Later you’re in his room. Wrapped in one of his giant coats. Reading.

Law’s on the couch across from you. Also reading. Except he’s definitely not reading anymore because he keeps glancing over the top of the book every ten seconds.

Finally, you sigh and close yours “Okay. What is it?”

“…What?”

“You’re staring.”

“I am not.”

“You are definitely staring.”

He shuts his book and leans back “You smell like Kid.”

You blink. Then grin “Oh my god. Are you jealous?”

“No.”

“Law…”

He mutters something under his breath and gets up, walking over to you. He plucks the coat off your shoulders, drops it on the floor, and replaces it with his own. It smells like clean linen and ink and something you’ve decided is just “him”.

You blink up at him, amused.

He leans down, cups your chin, and kisses you slow and deliberate.

When he pulls back, he mumbles, “There. Better.”

“Still jealous, though.”

“Shut up.”

You laugh and curl into his coat, dragging him down beside you on the bed.

It’s quiet. Warm. Comfortable.

This is his love language. Quiet touches. Shared books. Little things that say, you matter.

He tucks you close, arm around your waist, whispering almost shyly, “Don’t fall asleep yet. You haven’t had coffee.”

You smile against his chest.

“I don’t need coffee. I have you.”

He groans softly “That was awful.”

“You loved it.”

“…Yeah.”

You wake up warm, tucked under smooth sheets. Everything smells like fresh cotton and old paper.

Law is still asleep behind you, breathing steady against the back of your neck.

He’s the kind of sleeper that holds on without meaning to, one arm around your middle, the other curled loosely near your head like a shield.

You shift a little.

The grip tightens instantly.

“…It’s not time yet” he mumbles, voice gravelly from sleep.

You smile, still half-asleep yourself “We have around twenty minutes.”

“That’s twenty minutes too soon.”

You laugh softly “You made the schedule, remember?”

He groans and presses his face into your shoulder “Mistake.”

You turn to face him. He’s got bed hair, soft eyes, and that quiet pout he doesn’t know he makes in the morning.

“You could just come with me, you know” you tease.

“No.” He closes his eyes again “He’s too loud. And he’s going to jump on me.”

“True.”

You brush a hand over his bangs, then kiss the spot between his brows “But I’ll miss you.”

His eyes open slowly. Golden brown, focused. Honest.

“…I’ll miss you too.”

You both lie there for a little longer before he finally sighs and sits up, stretching “Come on. I’ll walk you to the dock.”

The Thousand Sunny bobs cheerfully at the edge of the water. Luffy is already waving both arms like a windmill “Y/N! Y/N! I made snacks! Hurry before Usopp eats them!”

You shake your head, laughing.

Law stands beside you, hands in his coat pockets, watching like he’s preparing for surgery. His mouth is a flat line, his shoulders a little too stiff.

“He’s… excited” you offer carefully.

“He’s loud.”

“You said that already.”

“He’s going to drop you.”

“I’ll survive.”

“…Unlikely.”

You nudge him with your elbow “You’re allowed to be annoyed. Just don’t kill him.”

Law exhales through his nose, not quite a laugh “No promises.”

You look up at him and smile softly “You know, Kid yelled the whole time when I left. You’re kind of… the opposite.”

“I don’t yell” he says, insulted.

“No, I know. You… hold it all in.”

He glances at you, eyes unreadable “Is that a bad thing?”

You shake your head “No. It’s a you thing.”

You lean up on your toes and kiss him. Slow. Thoughtful. Long enough to make Luffy groan loudly in the distance.

“STOP KISSING, START WALKING!”

You both ignore him for a second longer.

When you pull away, Law presses something into your hand, a folded note. You blink.

“What’s this?”

“A list.”

You open it and read: “Come back safe. Drink water. Don’t fall off the ship. Don’t forget me.”

You smile so wide it almost hurts.

“Romantic and bossy at the same time” you tease.

He shrugs “I multitask”

You take a few steps away, then pause and turn.

“Hey, Law?”

“…Yeah?”

“I’ll come back. I always do.”

He doesn’t smile. But his voice is soft.

“I know.”

You barely make it onto the Sunny before Luffy tackles you in a flying hug.

“YOU’RE HERE!!!” he shouts, arms wrapped tightly around your waist like you’re a piece of treasure he thought might vanish.

“Luffy! Breathing! Air!” you wheeze, laughing as he spins you in a circle.

The crew just watches fondly, like they’ve seen this a hundred times before.

“You’re late!” Luffy declares, finally setting you down.

“I’m literally on time.”

“But I missed you!”

You open your mouth to reply, but he suddenly cups your cheeks, squishing them “Do you smell like Law?! Ew!”

You grin “He gave me a coat.”

“I’M BURNING IT.”

Later he gives you a tour of the ship again like it’s your first time.

“Here’s your room! Just kidding, you can sleep in my hammock!”

“This is the kitchen—Sanji said I can’t cook anything, but I might have made snacks.”

“This is where Usopp and I tried to make a rocket once! It almost worked!”

He’s chaos on legs, grabbing your hand and dragging you from one spot to the next with endless energy.

But the moment you say, “Luffy, slow down” he stops instantly and looks back at you, worried.

“You okay?”

You blink “Yeah. I just want to be with you. You don’t have to impress me. And I’ve been on this ship thousands of times.”

He tilts his head, smile softening “I know. I just wanna show you stuff. ‘Cause you’re mine.”

You raise an eyebrow “Part mine.”

He frowns, dramatic “Don’t say that!”

You laugh and tug him down to sit on the deck. The stars are starting to show. The ocean sways under the ship like a giant heartbeat.

You lie back.

He flops down next to you, arms behind his head.

“I like this” he says.

“Just lying here?”

“Yeah. With you. It feels like the end of a good meal.”

You turn your head to look at him “That’s your best way of describing love, huh?”

“Yup!” He grins “Warm, full, and happy.”

You nudge him “You’re getting good at this.”

“I’ve been practicing.”

“On who?”

He grins wider “On you.”

Later that night you’re curled in his hammock, swaying gently. Luffy’s tangled up with you, head on your chest, arms around your waist, snoring softly.

For someone who never stops moving, he sleeps like he never wants to let go.

You brush a hand through his hair.

“I’ll come back” you whisper, though he’s already dreaming.

He mumbles something.

You lean down.

“Luffy?”

“…Don’t go too long.”

Your heart twists.

“I won’t” you promise.

You’re still on the Sunny in the morning, sitting on the edge of the deck with your legs swinging over the side, sun warming your face.

Luffy’s beside you, leaning against the railing with a toothy grin, snacking on meat like nothing in the world could ever go wrong.

Then you hear it.

A mechanical thunk and a soft hum of teleportation.

You glance back.

Law steps onto the deck with his hands in his pockets. Kid is right behind him, arms crossed, face unreadable. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move.

Luffy waves like it’s a reunion party “You’re late!”

“We weren’t invited” Law deadpans.

“Still late.”

You turn to them both, heart already in your throat.

“You guys came to fight over who gets the next turn?” you ask, even though you already know.

Law shrugs, casual on the outside “I assumed the coin toss would happen again.”

“Yeah,” Luffy says “Let’s flip it! Where’s the coin?! I'm going to win this time!”

You hold up your hand.

“No.”

They both pause. Even Luffy blinks at you.

Kid doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. His jaw’s tight. That angry glint in his eye is gone, replaced by something more dangerous, quiet.

And that’s what gets you.

Because Kid is never quiet. He’s yelling, cursing, stomping, alive.

And right now he looks like someone who’s afraid if he opens his mouth, he’ll say something he can’t take back.

You step forward, past Law, past Luffy.

“I’m not flipping a coin this time,” you say softly “I’m going with Kid.”

His head jerks a little, eyes snapping up to meet yours.

“I said something dumb last time,” you continue “I thought I was being funny. But you’ve barely looked at me since then. You haven’t said a single thing, and that’s… not like you.”

He stays silent.

You step even closer, just a few feet away now.

“I think I hurt you. And if I did… I’m sorry.”

Finally, his jaw unclenches. His voice comes out rough, like it’s been held back too long.

“You didn’t hurt me” he says, not meeting your eyes.

“Then what?”

He looks at you and shrugs, like it’s not a big deal.

“I just don’t like when the person I’d rip the sea apart for calls herself something I have to share.”

Your heart cracks and stitches at the same time.

Before you can say anything, Luffy steps forward and grins.

“Okay!” he says “Then it’s Kid’s turn!”

Law doesn’t argue either. He just gives you a soft look. A knowing one.

“…a week each?” he says, not to Kid, but to you.

You nod and smile softly “That would be great.”

As you walk back toward the dock with Kid, he finally speaks again.

“…You don’t have to come back with me, you know.”

You look up “I want to.”

He looks away, ears a little red “…Good.”

Behind you, Luffy waves “BYE! DON’T DO TOO MUCH KISSING WITHOUT ME!”

Law just mutters something under his breath about idiots and walks away.

But in that silence, those few moments where nobody argues, nobody fights, you know that they understand. Not just you. Not just their place in your world. But they understand each other.

Even if they’d never say it out loud.

[mullermilkshake]

Praise the hard work

Part 1 <- -> Part 2

When there's aid to help the country after the loss on Jeju Island, Jinwoo takes things up a notch.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader

I just finished S2 and I had to write something dark for Jinwoo, I am so in love with this man it hurts. I have only seen up to the anime and haven't read anything further from the manhwa so please no spoilers thank you! <3 MILD SPOLERS? I don't know. If you haven't watched the anime, you might wanna go watch it if you want nothing spoiled from the last arc.

Tags- Yandere!,Solo levelling AU,Mentions of Breeding,Snatching kids away,Jinwoo's villan arc,Killing,Murder,Blood and violence

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

EDIT - I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers.

“Ah, Hunter Sung, glad you could finally make it.”

Jinwoo could have made it in time, but he preferred to level up one more time. The S-Rank gate turned red, his time was stretched as thin as he made it in truth. 

Realistically, he wanted some peace and quiet for an hour before the dungeon boss. Meetings like this were rarely interesting or exciting enough to keep his attention.

Though what made him attend altogether was you. A recently awakened Mage type S-Rank hunter, gentle in temperament most of the time with an ability that was truly remarkable. It even put Jinwoo’s shadow exchange to shame without a cooldown.

You had so much potential that Jinwoo wanted to explore. 

He stepped inside the meeting room and took up a seat opposite from you, your expression flustered and exasperated. A beautiful display of the rosiness of your cheeks and agitated biting of your bottom lip to set the tone. Next to you was Hunter Choi, a man who everyone knew was entirely devoted to you and totally besotted with you in the little time since you had awakened. Everyone but you seemed to notice.

Jinwoo noticed immediately before anyone else. Hunter Choi seemed to take notice of Jinwoo’s judgement as well. An unspoken rule between the two and no one ever mentioned it, because speaking out about it made it real, and Jinwoo kept his disinterest verbal to the good of the association and respective guilds.

The chairman cleared his throat and perched himself back down into his seat, lacing his fingers together as though in prayer whilst he hid behind his softened smile. “I’ll give Hunter Sung a brief run down and we’ll continue our discussion.” He raised his hand up to dismiss you before you could utter a syllable. “Please. After I have briefed him. I’d like to hear all of your thoughts afterwards.”

“Hunter Sung.”

“Yes, Chairman?” 

Jinwoo was curious now, what could make you want to interrupt and sweat bullets? You ignored Choi’s not-so-subtle exchanges to gain your attention and rather looked to Jinwoo instead. Was that for comfort? Or a glare to get him on side to understand the absurdity about to inevitably leave Chairman Go’s lips? Either way, Jinwoo welcomed the glassiness from your eyes and helpless look across your face.

“Since Jeju Island, Korea has only welcomed one new S-Rank hunter awakening in the last year. And with no A or B-ranks awakening, it is up to the hunters association to put counter measures in place to secure the safety and protection of this country.”

So far he was making sense, yet why was there a ‘but’ coming with it? “Yes, it is, sir.”

“We must take every conceivable option to prevent dungeon breaks and secure the safety of the people… So we are putting forward a programme, a fall back plan if you will to try and awaken more hunters in the coming years.”

“Okay…” Where is he going with this? Nothing's been reported on forced awakenings, and when people do awaken, it's rare enough as it is. 

He shot you a glance and saw that your expression was unchanged, hardened, desperate. Just what was going through your mind right now?

“We would like to get as many hunters who are of age to participate in a programme for pairings to procreate in order to give this country the highest chance for more higher rank hunters awakening.”

The room’s silence weighed on each hunter's head, they all lowered, some more than others. Hunter Cha’s head mimicked your own, though Hunter’s Choi and Baek seemed only to bow their own in respect to you and Cha.

“So…” Jinwoo adjusted his position and tapped his fingertips on the table to break the long pause. “You want hunters to have children in the hope they awaken as hunters themselves?”

“Yes.”

Okay, well this meeting just got way more interesting. 

“But, how will you pair them, is it-”

“It’s randomized via a written code we’re developing for the best chances. This won't just be S and A-Rank hunters, we hope that lower rank hunters will participate too, if we get lucky their children may awaken with higher ranks than their parents. Though that being said, this will be an international effort.”

Jinwoo held his breath, it wasn’t just Korea doing this. “Japan is participating too?”

The chairman nodded with his usual air that humbled those in front of him. “They lost many S-Rank hunters too, we must all work together to bring our dwindling numbers up.”

So, if Jinwoo agreed and this went ahead, there was a chance he could be paired with you? He’d agree immediately, but would allow you to speak so that you felt heard. Jinwoo would give a little pushback to appear part of the resistance, but the thought of potentially getting to sleep with you in the name of ‘protecting the country’ he’d do that in a heartbeat.

Something he'd been fantasising about for a while.

You happened to intrigue Jinwoo more so than he originally first thought and being able to rub the fact in Hunter Choi’s face that he’d seen you naked and touched your body in ways that man had only dreamed of, well, how could he say no? Just the thought of your body under his in the name of science when it was bliss for him drove him crazy enough to keep it hidden. 

The pregnant pause was enough to set you off, you stood up to get your point across. “Chairman Go, please reconsider this- there’s barely any research to ever suggest that this will even work, it’ll put us out of commission for years, at least until those children come of age. That's if they even inherit anything from us- you won’t see any results at least for two decades and that’s even if any of them awaken. We need a plan for right now. Our country has already lost four S-Rank hunters to Jeju island last year and we’ve never recovered.”

You would have been the eleventh S-Rank hunter to awaken after Jinwoo had the others not perished.

“No, just nine months. After birth, we’ll take the children to a facility where they’ll receive care expected from children of ranked hunters to allow you to resume your duties in your guilds-”

“So ripping children from their mother’s arms is the right solution? I’m not about to be some broodmare, I refuse to participate.”

Hunter Choi adjusted his glasses and touched your arm as though he wanted to soothe you, but it was just a lame attempt to show his bullshit side to pander to you. Like that would get you interested in him. All it did was was make Jinwoo's eye twitch.

“I think we should maybe take the voluntary approach, Chairman Go. While I understand the importance of this initiative, it’ll take numerous hunters who would normally make their living during the raids unable to participate in them.” He spoke your name with a fondness. “I understand where she’s coming from, there’s nothing to suggest that two S-Rank hunters could reproduce and gain another S-Rank hunter in the process and in numerous cases, I don't think there's enough evidence in the last ten years to go on with certainty. And how will those who participate be compensated? Especially if the baby doesn’t awaken?”

Chairman Go nodded along to the concerns, “I understand those concerns, that’s why we’re going to provide living quarters and cover costs the entire time from conception to birth, if hunters want to keep and raise their own children, they can, but if taken to the facility, the children will be cared for whether they awaken or not. They will become wards of the state and given considerable opportunities for their service, the hunter parents can try again or be compensated for their efforts too.”

Fucking most days, impregnating and then trying again whilst also being able to still resume his duties as a hunter? Jinwoo was tempted. For the country of course.

“Well, I’m not doing it.” You said, sitting down in a slump, looking at your shoes away form the audience.

Hunter Baek rubbed his chin and huffed with a gruff exhale. “I… I’m not sure how I feel about this. It will be voluntary, right?”

Chairman Go nodded, “It is, for now, but if all of the countries listed to trial this agree, then we’ll have no choice but to participate.”

You gasped, it caught Jinwoo’s attention. Hunter Cha said nothing, holding her handkerchief to her nose and avoiding gazes from everyone in the room.

Jinwoo requested more security before he agreed, hoping it would serve your nerves before the inevitable. “Chairman Go, please make me understand. Will this really help us?"

“We strongly believe so.”

He feigned conflict, agitation to his words. Yet inside, he was excited to begin. “I’m not sure either, but if it’s compulsory, we should at least get to choose who we’re with, right?”

“Jinwoo.. Please don’t tell me you’re okay with this?” Were you about to cry? Your eyes were glassy enough.

“I’m not saying I am, but if the government makes it law, we’ll have no choice. But we can make it as painless as possible with our own demands, isn’t that right, Chairman?”

The Chairman shuffled though kept his solid gaze to hide his uncomfortable position. “Well… unfortunately, that’s why we have agreed to use a code to define suitability based on abilities and temperament. I cannot allow pairings by choice, I trust you understand?”

“This is ridiculous… Jong-In, Yoonho…” Your eyes begged Cha to say something. “Hae-In… Please say something- someone say something.”

Nothing.

“I assume we’re in a majority rule then?” The Chairman stood and his smile returned. “I appreciate the valiant, hard work you will do for our country. We’ll return here in a week once we have more information and will determine the lottery of who is paired with who. We’ll trial run S and B-Ranks first whilst A-Ranks take on the majority of the gates, and then we’ll take on A and lower rank hunters and all who want to participate.”

After the Chairman left, you shot out of your seat to leave, Choi took your wrist to hold your exit. “Wait a second, we should talk about this together-”

“We had the opportunity to talk about it thirty seconds ago, Jong-In, and you said nothing. None of you said anything. We’re putting the country at risk and we have little protection as it is and now me and Cha and every other person who can carry a child are being used as cattle while you three just sit there with no changes to your lives. Some hunters you are.”

Jinwoo watched you leave with magnetism. You fought for what you deemed was right, but that assertiveness- no, that helplessness. You hid it as trying to be assertive, but Jinwoo saw right through it. He wanted to see more of those raw emotions, preferably in a bedroom, with your clothes off.

Baek called after you when you left and ran his hand through his hair. “Shit. Stay here, I’ll go after her-”

“No.” Hunter Choi held out his hand. “Let her go, she’ll need time to cool off. I’ll go and see her later, maybe we can come up with a plan in the meantime.”

Jinwoo got up from his seat and decided to call it a day, despite Choi being clingy and trying to get back into your good graces, he had a point. He’d let him have that for now.

“Hunter Sung, you’re leaving?”

“Uh, yeah, there’s not much else I need to discuss. But I do have another gate to get through today, I was just stopping by in between raids.” Jinwoo left without another word, taking in the information and your reaction proved more than just a light conversation.

Chairman Go had a point, who was Jinwoo to defy it? If he could still level up and attend S-Rank gates, what more could change? You were right, nothing much would change, only that someone would be sleeping with you now until you got pregnant.

That’s what would change. Jinwoo wanted to be the one to do it.

Six days later, it was all Jinwoo could think about, the changes, the expectations and the possibility that Jinwoo could be paired with someone other than you.

There’s an odd number of S-Ranks so someone will be left out. Their workload will be doubled, but with there only being two women, two pairs will be decided tomorrow. 

Jinwoo had to be one of them. So in order to make that happen, Jinwoo attended headquarters to ask some questions.

“I’m sorry Hunter Sung, but I can’t divulge who is being paired with who, it’s confidential until we make the announcement later today.”

Well that wasn’t convenient. “Listen, I don’t think it’s that hard to get the answers up, do you? It’s not a test to pass, so just tell me and I can be on my way.”

The man by the computer in the little cramped room he hid in, trembled under Jinwoo’s aura, eyes wide at Igris stepping into reality. Jinwoo didn’t need him to threaten the man, but it sped the process up without killing him. He didn't really want to do that if he could help it.

Jinwoo bent down to him in his chair, his aura flowing more violently like a flickering flame in his eyes. “And I’d hurry up if I were you… I’m growing impatient.”

“I- I can’t, I’m sorry! I’m under strict instructions from Chairman Go, I just know that you've been added with the pairings, but I can’t tell you who because it’s computer generated, they’ll know if I look before it’s time, I have to use my fingerprint to even access it!”

Jinwoo wouldn’t give him a second chance if he kept the whiny baby act up, it was crucial to know. “Open it, now.”

“N-no…” Before he could blink, Jinwoo stabbed his dagger through his chest to avoid exaggerated blood splatter.

“Arise.” Before his body even hit the ground, the man’s shadow split away and stood there, billowing by the computer and ready to do as he was told. 

“Now… Do I have to ask you again?”

The shadow shook its head and turned to the computer, running it’s fingertips over the little scanner tucked away to pull up the file. Nifty. And just as expected, Jinwoo had been partnered with Cha, and-

“Not cool, man.” Hunter Choi’s name sat right under yours. “Change it. Swap them around so Cha is with Choi. They’ll be happy with each other.” 

Igris shot Jinwoo a look, he knew what that look meant, a ‘you can’t be serious’ type stare. 

“What? It’s the only way to keep her close to me. I can’t miss this opportunity-” A notification popped up in Jinowoo’s view. “Well, look at that.”

Your one year side quest has arrived. ??? Failure to complete the quest will result in and appropriate penalty. 

“I better get on with this then, Who knows what the penalty will be…” So, Jinwoo had a year to get you pregnant and have a child to show for it. Seemed simple enough.

The only thing delaying the inevitable was you.

But Jinwoo would change your mind easily, you only had to let him into your life properly.

Part 1 <- -> Part 2

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know! Thanks so much for all the support on this likes, reblog and comments appreciated! ❤️

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[twstowo]

Their Magicam Accounts[Twst]

♡︎How I think their Magicam Accounts would look and what they do in them.

♡︎This was been catching dust in my drafts for months now. Crazy

♡︎Includes: NRC, RSA and Rollo

⋆⋅☆Riddle: Owns two accounts on Magicam. The first one is only used to like or comment on posts from friends, Carter set up this account against Riddle’s will. He once accidentally posted a picture of the two of you and had a heart attack trying to delete it. The second account is a secret one where he only posts hedgehog pictures.

⋆⋅☆Trey: Has one account where most of his posts showcase his cakes, including pictures from unbirthday parties and moments of you cooking with him. His profile picture is him with that dog filter, you can’t change my mind.

⋆⋅☆Carter: Literally Owns Magicam, posting pictures every time he does something or is with someone. #Thevoicesarewinning. Comments on every post and totally knows that Riddle owns the hedgehog account. He also has a side account for stalking people. Changes his profile picture daily.

⋆⋅☆Ace: Initially only posted embarrassing pictures of people and would only take them down if they paid him. Got suspended quickly from Magicam. The second account is more relaxed, where he shares random content whenever he feels like it. He’s also the type to edit group pictures to make everyone look bad except himself, just to annoy everyone.

⋆⋅☆Deuce: Was the one who reported Ace’s first account since most pictures were of him. Has Shaky pictures, the best picture he has is one of him, Ace, and you together. Probably uses social media mostly for chatting with friends. Also, he, Ace, and you have one of those quirky couple profile pics.

⋆⋅☆Leona: Owns an account with no posts, profile picture, comments, or followers. Rarely uses Magicam, but he occasionally checks your posts.

⋆⋅☆Ruggie: Uses Magicam for selling stuff. Created a group for selling second-hand items and pins all his stuff to ensure faster sales than everyone else.

⋆⋅☆Jack: Gym pictures? Nah, I feel he’d be too shy for that. Probably has one image that he uses everywhere else just to identify himself.

⋆⋅☆Azul: Opened an account to promote Mostro Lounge, daily posts feature new dishes, prices, menus, and sales. He also has a personal account but doesn’t post (doesn’t think he looks nice in pictures).

⋆⋅☆Jade: Mushroom account, has so many followers who share his fascination. Their conversations are all about their mushroom hikes and can last for hours. Makes really aesthetically pleasing posts filled with detailed information about different types of mushrooms.

⋆⋅☆Floyd: For legal reasons I won’t say why, but his account got suspended after one week of its creation.

⋆⋅☆Kalim: Sends party invitations through Magicam, Jamil had to create a group to prevent Kalim from sending individual invitations constantly. Enjoys capturing pictures of the sky. Once posted a picture of Jamil, after it was deleted, he didn't post anything for a whole month, I wonder what happened.

⋆⋅☆Jamil: Similar to Leona, but he often checks Trey’s account for his cake posts. When he saw a picture of you and Trey together, he invited you over to cook with him but didn’t have the courage to ask for a picture of the two of you.

⋆⋅☆Vil: Posts frequently, sharing about himself and his daily routine, always looking impeccable. Regularly receives barking comments, he spends hours deleting all of them.

⋆⋅☆Rook: We all know he has a fan account for Neige. Likes posts of all the celebrities he adores. Writes extremely lengthy comments whenever he finds someone beautiful. He's been blocked so many times he's lost count.

⋆⋅☆Epel: Initially tried taking cute pictures following Vil’s advice but got annoyed as he looked too feminine. Instead, he started promoting stuff from his farm back home.

⋆⋅☆Idia: Uses an account with a weird name to hide his identity, posts about games and occasional activities. Engages in lengthy debates with anyone who disagrees with his new hyperfixation. Has a different notification ring for your posts.

⋆⋅☆Ortho: Shares many pictures of you and him and others doing silly things, sometimes posts gossips and causes huge scandals with them, to the point he decided to create an account with only gossip info. (Azul is literally taking notes.)

⋆⋅☆Malleus: This man owns a Nokia 3310.

⋆⋅☆Lilia: Creates posts about the Doramas he watches, managing a fan page to discuss them with others. Shares pictures of Silver, Sebek, and Malleus, although the latter two get embarrassed, leading Lilia to take down their pictures.

⋆⋅☆Silver: Posts images of nature and cute animals. There's only one picture of him – you took it while he was sleeping and posted it. He didn't have the heart to delete it, knowing it was you.

⋆⋅☆Sebek: Shaky hands #2. Takes pictures of his paintings of Malleus; if you scroll long enough, you might see an accidentally posted painting of you.

⋆⋅☆Che’nya: Shares pictures of people's scared faces, taken while invisible when the flash goes off.

⋆⋅☆Neige: Lost track of his posts; like Vil, he has many followers. Captures moments with the dwarfs and shares funny stories about his day in every picture.

⋆⋅☆Rollo: Has one account filled with pictures of Fleur City. His profile picture used to be a croissant, but he removed it since it looked dumb. He was blocked every magic user, except for you. Yet.

[westside-rot]

Talk To Me Nice

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black reader

No warnings for this one. Hopefully there aren't too many errors cuz it's only lightly edited. I'm trying to squeeze in my last post of the year lol

This little idea is the result of a writing prompt and @megamindsecretlair keeping me honest about writing something every day. Figured I'd share the results with whoever else wants to check it out.

“That’s a bit harsh my love…”

After spending the last 20 minutes filling your home with negative energy you expected reciprocation.  Instead you were being derailed with a new form of gaslighting, the kind reserved for evolved men who appeared harmless on the surface but harbored a petty side few got to see. Though impressive, you knew Terry was only using kind words to paint himself the victim. It didn’t matter how many steps ahead you thought you were. The guilt still hit with the same bruising force.

Six months of newlywed bliss cruelly interrupted by disappointment you never wanted to feel so early into your marriage. Perhaps there was a better way to convey that hurt to your husband. Maybe sitting him down for a mature conversation would’ve spared you from the growing pressure around your temples and the rawness in your throat from all the yelling you’d been doing. You were convinced the window for apologies and grand romantic gestures had closed. He'd started it. You were damn sure going to finish it.

You pushed through your doubts and committed to your frustrations with arms folded tightly across your chest, the initial urge to roll your eyes shifting to a hard, resolute stare. “Well Terrence sometimes harsh is necessary.”

He scratched his beard and nodded as though you’d just agreed on what to have for dinner. Silence took over the room once again, intensifying the conflict between you. His eyes never broke contact.

“Are you done?” From anyone else the question would’ve triggered your inner toxic and possibly resulted in the police being called. But there was note of calmness in your husband’s voice that exonerated him from the accusation before it became your new truth. Terry wasn’t being dismissive. He was simply better at regulating his emotions.  His inability to stop wringing his hands together revealed the stress hidden within. For a second time you were forced to ignore your guilt for the sake of winning. Mirroring his casual demeanor, you continued to stand firm and prepared for whatever he intended to say next.

“I must’ve imagined sitting in premarital counseling for all those weeks. Or maybe I was the only one taking it seriously. That must be it 'cause at the first sign of a problem you’ve broken every promise we made to each other.” His words landed direct hits on your conscience. Everything holding you together began to cave under the weight of his response. Terry wasn’t wrong. Instinctively, you went into defense mode anyway.  

“That’s not fai—”

“Nah, you’re not about to interrupt me. I let you speak. You’ll show me the same respect. Understand?” The natural base in his voice instantly got your attention. Yes sir rang so clearly in your mind you weren’t entirely convinced you hadn’t said it out loud. You prayed Terry couldn’t somehow feel the lust pulsing alongside everything else flooding your system. One day soon under normal circumstances you were going to explore his newfound aggressive side. How, you weren’t entirely sure. With a new goal seared into your brain and soaked through panties clinging to your ass you managed to retain a sense of dignity as you obeyed your husband’s command. 

“You’re my wife. One day you’ll be the mother of our children. I refuse to let them hear us talking crazy to each other, so I’m gonna need you to find a better way to communicate your feelings. If I need to sign us back up for therapy I will but this shit ends tonight.”

All the fight drained from your body. Shame took its place. In its presence you were finally able to recall those important conversations leading up to your wedding, the dreams you shared, the legacy you wanted to create. If not for your anger you could have revisited them sooner and found a better use for them. Now you were facing an evening apart, perhaps more depending on how long Terry held on to a grudge.

All you could do was stare at the ground and wait for it to be over with. Hopefully you’d find a way to sleep knowing you had failed your first test as a wife. When your lip started to quiver you promptly bit down on it to keep your hurt feelings in check.  You hadn’t behaved in a way deserving of care but when Terry's long fingers reached out to palm the side of your face you sought out his warmth like a needy kitten.

“Now you’re breaking my heart.”

“I can’t help it. Did you have to be so mean?” Though you found your ability to speak you burrowed your pout lips further into his hand. The loudest person in the room didn’t deserve to cry. If you were lucky you'd disappear and rematerialize tomorrow with more sense.

“It got your attention. Besides, I thought harsh was necessary. Or does that only apply when you’re cursing me out?” He chuckled.  You weren’t persuaded by the playfulness in his voice to look up. Terry initiated the gesture with fingers affectionately placed beneath your chin. It wasn’t lost on you that he'd repositioned your face at the same proud angle you held while lecturing him as if two nights apart somehow equated to years of neglect. You wanted to look away but soon discovered his eyes remained steadfast and beautiful in the aftermath of the storm you’d caused. They connected with your soul in an instant providing a gentle assurance that you were safe with him.

 The words flowed through your upturned lips effortlessly. “I’m sorry baby. You didn’t deserve all those ugly things I said to you.” Before you could say more he captured your face in both hands, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“You’re already forgiven my love.” Terry’s lips grazed yours as he spoke. The distance was torture. Finally, after what felt like an unbearably long time, he covered your mouth with his, reestablishing his dominance with a tenderness that sets your heart and mind at ease.  It was a proper reconciliation, but it also wasn’t enough. Not after the way you behaved tonight.

You treated the sincerity on his lips as your own personal buffet. When it became difficult to breathe you pulled away to regain control over the situation.  “I still have a lot to make up for.”

A smile tugged at his lips as he pushed the curls back from your face. “We both do. Your approach needs some work, but you had a right to be upset with me.” You nodded and yet nothing in you wanted to celebrate the vindication. You were simply relieved to know you hadn’t caused any irrevocable damage by overreacting. Even more relieved to see him smiling again.  "I think my beautiful and extremely childish wife should get the honor of going first.”

The frown you attempted to hold cracked under the pressure of his wide grin. You hate being teased. You were also guilty on all counts and willing to take your punishment. “I suppose that’s fair.”

“It’s very fair.” He mumbled between prolonged kisses down your neck.

You exhaled and curved your fingers over his broad shoulders. It was becoming harder to think or even breathe with him sucking everywhere his lips could reach. “Can we talk it out like grown-ups tomorrow?”

“Of course, baby. It's mandatory from now on.” When he spoke the guttural quality possessing his voice registered deep in the places he’s yet to touch. You felt painfully empty but knew you wouldn’t stay that way for long. At the rate his lips were moving you weren’t convinced you'd make it past the couch. You preferred the comfort of your king-sized bed the scene of your crime was a fitting place for getting down on your knees to make proper use of your mouth.

Terry surprised you when he broke the suction on your collarbone to reunite at eye level. There was a noticeable glint of mischief in his eyes before he bent down to throw you over his shoulder. You squealed and braced a hand at the center of his back for support you really didn't need.

"You better not drop me trying to be cute!"

"I was planning on letting you off easy tonight. Now I'm thinking your apology needs to be as loud as all that shit you've been talking."

"Yes daddy. Remind me what all these big strong muscles are really for. Also, please send help!"

With a single act you reclaim the home you’ve built, your gasps and combined laughter echoing along the walls as he carried you upstairs.

[strwbrychffoncke]

"lets ,you and me ,start over today ,be happy,, 2k+ words synopsis: you hope for a miracle on white day contains: lnds caleb x reader ,its white day! ,angst -> fluff ,kinda yearner!reader ,oblivious!reader ,jealousy (u think he likes someone else ,he thinks u like someone LOL) ,chef!caleb ,you're both kinda dumb tbh ,reader cries ,caleb comforts you ,slightly possessive!caleb ,confession ,kiss scene ,later a misunderstanding is fixed ,fluffy end ,i think thats it note: (unedited!) wow didn't mean to not write for so long OOPS.... i found this concept in my notes and decided to cook it up today and slowly get back into the writing groove cause i missed it...... ill edit this later too lazy to do it rn :x

-

you're not really sure what triggered it.

maybe it was the excited giggles of girls passing you through the halls as they chatted with their friends about who had left them chocolates on this special day. maybe it was the shocked expression on your close friends' faces, pleasantly surprised at having received chocolates of their own, yet trying to brush it off as no big deal realizing you had yet to receive any.

or maybe it was the fact that you'd caught caleb up in the kitchen later than usual, the sweet smell of your favorite chocolates wafting through the space and towards your nose.

you'd watched him meticulously measure out the proper ingredients, noticing he was trying his best to stay quiet (seeming to recognize both you and gran were asleep, or so he thought) while quietly humming to himself, carefully stirring and monitoring the sweets as they developed. a pleased smile graced his features when he delicately poured the fresh liquid into cute molds you couldn't make out (but realized with a sinking heart had to be new, because you didn't recognize them) and watched as gathered a dallop of it on his finger to taste test.

having seen too much, you managed to rip yourself away from where you hid in the hallway, quietly retreating to your room, and burying yourself into your covers.

you didn't want it to be true. you didn't want to think about caleb working so carefully to make something for another girl, who just so happened to have your taste in sweets.

how bittersweet.

you heard his footsteps pass by your room, fighting the urge to burst open the door and corner him for answers, and instead listening to the soft pat pat of his socks against the wooden floor retreating just down further into his own bedroom.

tears slipped down your cheeks as you willed yourself to sleep, trying to think of anything to push away the image of caleb gifting the likely very-nicely wrapped chocolates to some mystery girl.

he never mentioned anyone. why would he keep this a secret from you?

wasn't he the one that said there shouldn't be any secrets between you both? that he was the first person you could speak to about anything, and vice versa?

you don't remember falling asleep, but are quickly shaken back to reality in the morning when you wake to your tear-stained cheeks.

and now you had arrived home, locking yourself in your rooms as you curled up and cried to yourself about the situation all over again.

of course he wouldn't think of you like that, he couldn't possibly, you knew this and thought you'd accepted it long ago—

so why was it that the tears wouldn't stop flowing?

you didn't even care that you didn't receive anything from anyone else (even caleb piped up the question on your unnaturally quiet walk home, but you only shook your head. since your gaze was trained infront of you, you missed the relief that flooded his prior sharp eyes and the sigh that escaped his lips) because you only wanted something from one person.

the one person who you could never have.

you're not sure how long you were crying for, but accustomed to being left to yourself for awhile after school, you were startled at a sudden knock at your door.

you jumped, head perking up towards your door— you'd left it unlocked.

"pipsqueak?"

you cursed to yourself.

of all times.

you frantically wiped at your wet cheeks, taking quick deep breaths to try to ensure your voice wouldn't come out shaky.

at another knock, you found it in yourself to answer.

"y-yeah?"

dammit.

with any luck, caleb wouldn't notice the shake in your voice.

"hey, are you alright?"

you cursed his perceptiveness.

"yeah, what's up?"

you hoped that sounded more convincing.

a beat of silence passes between you both, and you want to speak up again to ask what he needs when he beats you to it.

"i'm coming in."

"wait—!"

your panicked cry is ignored as caleb bursts through the door, eyes quickly locking onto you.

in seconds, he closes the distance, kneeling before you and gently gripping your shoulders.

"hey, hey, were you crying?"

"...no—"

"don't lie to me."

"don't ask stupid questions!"

you huff in mild frustration, rubbing at your eyes to try to keep any more tears from falling in his presence.

at your action, he reaches up to pry your hands away from your face, holding them gently in his own warm ones. his thumbs start caressing the backs of your palms as he looks into your eyes.

"what's wrong?"

you quickly shift your gaze away from his.

"nothing—"

"it's not nothing. come on, you can tell me anything."

you take a deep shaky breath.

"did something happen today?"

shouldn't you be the one asking him that?

he tilted his head, trying to meet your eyes.

"is it because you didn't get anything?"

"no, caleb—"

"then what?"

the soothing movements of his thumbs on your hands stop for a moment.

"did someone say something to you?"

you sniffle, shaking your head.

"did someone—"

"no one did anything, caleb, that's the problem!"

his eyes widen slightly, and his thumbs resume the soothing motion again at your sudden outburst.

"what do you—"

"i just—! i just hoped...."

a fresh batch of tears well up in your eyes, and you try your best not to let them fall.

"hoped for what?" his voice is quieter, almost a whisper.

"hoped for the impossible."

your gaze is on your lap, looking at the size of caleb's hands compared to yours.

he's close, so close, and yet...

you sniffle as a couple of tears fall, dropping to where your hands are connected.

"the person i like.... made chocolates for someone else."

caleb feels his heart stop.

is that what this is about?

while a large part of him wants to shake you for the name of this person so he can beat them to the ground for making you cry, the deeper twisted part of him is relieved that you haven't been taken from him.

he couldn't allow that.

"pipsqueak..."

"am i... not enough?"

he feels his heart shatter at the sound of a broken sob escaping your lips after these words, and his hands fly to cup your face, bringing you closer to him.

"of course you're enough, don't ever question your worth because of someone else. they're just too stupid to not see that, so its better not to think about them, alright?"

your eyes widen in surprise at the intense look in his eyes mixed with his honest answer, and you both feel comforted and a little more heartbroken hearing this come from the one this is about in the first place.

he swipes your tears away with his thumbs, one hand moving to pat your head. his eyes soften, a fond looking taking over them.

"one day, someone who's worthy of your love, who knows everything about you and cares about you more than anything in the world will sweep you off your feet. trust me."

the way he says these words with such certainty in a calm and kind voice warms your heart.

"do you really think so?" you murmur.

"i know so," he answers.

you both stare into each other's eyes for a long moment after that, exchanging a million words in just one look.

maybe its because of what day it is, maybe its because he's so close, or maybe its because the person he described reminds you so much of him, but for whatever reason, you find yourself leaning forward.

there's not a lot of distance between the two of you, and in a way you think 'maybe its now or never,' as you decide to close it, tilting your head and closing your eyes as your soft lips land onto his.

its brief and fleeting yet so much is exchanged in the few seconds you're merged together this way. caleb is shocked to his core, eyes wide and not having time to even process if this is real or not. when he feels you begin to pull away, the hand that's planted itself on top of your head slips behind and pushes you back, this time leaving you in shock as he properly melds his lips with yours.

you're the first to pull away again after a few long moments, close enough that your breaths mingle as you both catch your own, eyes locked onto each other.

one of his hands is still cradling your face, his other brushing some stray hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear, breath shaky as he follows the movement, eyes dragging over every detail of your visage.

his sunset eyes bore into yours as he speaks his next words, voice wavering.

"did you mean it, pipsqueak?"

you can only nod your head in his gentle hold as a response.

surprise crosses his eyes for a moment when his brows suddenly furrow slightly.

"what about... your crush?"

a small smile stretches across your lips.

"he's been by my side this entire time," your eyes drift away from his face as you nuzzle your cheek slightly into his palm.

"i couldn't help myself."

his heart feels like it could burst, his eyes practically glimmering, and a smile painting his lips.

at the sight of his lovesick expression locked onto you, you sniffle, turning your head towards the door.

"well, i think i'm gonna get a snack—"

you move to get up but are stopped by a hand wrapping around your wrist, quickly pulling you back.

you yelp in surprise, falling into caleb's arms as he cages you against him, embrace holding you close, nose nudging against your shoulder.

"should i take that as a confession?"

-

extra:

"wait."

you perk up, looking to where caleb is standing over the stove, the man in question already facing you.

its hours later, and you're sitting on a nearby stool, completely reassured from earlier's outburst, watching him cook dinner for you both.

"i'm still confused about one thing."

you tilt your head.

"ok?"

"you said the person you liked gave chocolate to someone else," he starts, stirring what's in the pan he's holding before tossing the food slightly in midair before briskly catching it all in the pan, body turned towards you.

showoff, you think, grinning and shaking your head slightly.

"buuut, i didn't give anything to anyone, pipsqueak."

your expression morphed into one of puzzlement.

"but... i saw you... making chocolates...."

caleb took a moment to process your words before small chuckles began escaping him.

he lowered the heat, placing the pan back down before facing you completely, his laughs growing louder at this point and of pure amusement.

"its not that funny," you pouted.

he took a moment to catch his breath before walking over to the fridge and pulling something out, shutting the door and approaching you.

"its just— pip, they're for you."

you tilted your head at him, looking down at the packaging wrapped prettily.

"earlier, i had originally gone to your room to coax you out and give you these, but then..."

you gasped.

"c-caleb—!"

"did you notice these were your favorites?"

"which is why i was that much more upset!"

a fond chuckle rumbled through his chest as he reached out with his free hand to pet your hair.

"so cute."

"i deserve them for the distress you caused me," you pouted, reaching out for them only for caleb to hang it higher above you, out of your reach.

"nuh-huh, i don't think so."

"caleeeeeb!"

"not before you've had your dinner," he reasons.

you slump back into your chair, sighing.

"okayyy."

"hm, good."

that night, after a fulfilling share of "caleb's famous cooking," you helped yourself to the love-filled chocolates made specially for you, caleb feeding them to you, his gaze full of only love for the one he's wanted for so long.

this was definitely a white day to remember.

-

a/n: heyyyyyy guess whos back..... prepare for me to spit out more fics cause im dying to after not writing for like a month (and for no particular reason) stay tuned.... side note the current zayne event game is so fun ugh

-

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

As if I wasn't already exhausted enough this morning...

It's been brought to my attention that people are taking my fanfics, editing them, and sharing them around. I don't have the words to describe how not okay this is. If you don't like something about my fanfic, then I'm sorry to hear that, but there are a lot of other fics out there you can read instead.

I put time and effort and care into my writing, as does every writer. To take my work without permission and change it feels like someone just punched me in the gut. Frankly it makes me not want to share my work at all and to take down all the writing I do have up, because why should I share anything with people if all they're going to do is decide it's not good enough and they're going to do what they want with it and make it "better"?

And before anyone comes at me, this is not what a transformative work does. This is not the same as fanfiction. I'm fucking exhausted from working two eleven hour shifts over the weekend so my brain is not working so someone smarter and more articulate than I am can explain why. I'm tired.

This genuinely makes me want to take down all my works and not share anything new. It's very simple, kiddos: Don't like it? Don't read it. You will miss out on some fanfics that way, just like you'll miss out on some films, or books, or TV shows. I've missed out on really good fic, novels, films, etc, for the same reason. We all do. It's a part of life. Stuff will sometimes have things in it that you don't like. Skim those parts, fast-forward those scenes, grin and bear it, or just go and read/watch something else.

Normally I would make this post unrebloggable but I worry other writers in this fandom might experience the same thing and not realize it. So people are welcome to reblog this. Anyone who's an ass on it will be blocked, no second chances.

Just. Don't do this guys. Holy shit don't do this. What the actual fuck.

[shinysobi]

pretty u

summary: when joshua, your best friend gets engaged, you can't help but feel as though you're missing out on something important. jihoon, your other best friend, kindly offers to set you up with one of his many friends. chaos ensues, seungkwan is an observer who knows everything, and unfortunately, mingyu is a hapless victim.

pairing: woozi x fem! reader

genre: crack, fluff, angst

word count: 10k~ish

warnings: alcohol consumption, general warnings apply

a/n: yes so this is a reupload, bc guess who wanted to edit and instead ended up deleting the whole post? me, that's who. anyway, this is still my favorite chapter lol hehe

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

back to masterlist

Chapter 4

Its funny, how easy it is, to slip into habits. Old habits, ones that have seeped into your routine over time. I wake up, check my phone for emails. I make coffee, check my phone for emails. I get dressed for work, check my phone for emails. On weekends, I do chores leftover from the week, read books I have to write reviews of.

I would most certainly not be taking a nap in the middle of a Saturday with Lee Jihoon. I would not be lying down in my bed, lying next to, nay, cuddled up with, Lee Jihoon. If anyone had told me, even a few hours ago, that I would be snuggled up with Lee Jihoon, my best friend since university. Wait. Can we even call ourselves friends?

“Jihoon.” I whisper, elbowing him in the ribs. “Jihoon.”

“Mm, five more minutes,” he mutters, “I’ll get up then.”

“Hey, wasn’t your meeting with the producers this afternoon?” I ask, “you’ll be getting in a world of trouble because you didn’t show up.”

“I won’t be getting in any trouble.” Jihoon replies, voice thick with sleep, “I’m the terrible child of the company. They’ll keep me around as long as I make good songs for them, they’ll change meeting times when I ask them to. They’ll do anything as long as I’m happy.”

“You’re taking advantage of your position,” I smile, shifting closer to him, “anyone would think you have a horrible work ethic.”

“It’s all okay when it’s regarding my—wait, what are we?” Jihoon sits up in the bed, still half-dressed, “are we still friends?”

“Depends. Do you kiss your friends?” I sit up, facing him, “then we’re friends. Otherwise, we’re not.”

Jihoon pulls a face, “I just imagined kissing one of the boys. Ew, no, never.”

“Then I suppose we aren’t friends anymore.” I smile, leaning in, “we’re something else, then.”

“Can I call you my girlfriend yet, or no?”

I laugh. From this angle, his face is soft, so soft it feels as though he’ll evaporate if I try to touch him, “depends. Do you kiss your girlfriends?”

Jihoon grins, pressing his lips to mine, “all the time.”

“M-hmm,” I smile, touching his cheeks, soft and pliable underneath my fingers, “Woozi, aren’t you being a little presumptuous? All the time? What do you mean all the time?”

He pulls a face, “I swear to god, if you start some bullshit again, I’m going to break up with you.”

“And we’ve been together for what, three hours? That has got to be a new record, even for you, Jihoon.” I say, laughing as Jihoon tackles me to the pillows, “not to mention you’ve been pining over me for the past what—six, years, since you went for your military service. Imagine liking someone for that long, and not telling anyone about it.”

“At least I had the decency to keep it to myself like a normal adult,” Jihoon replies, “you on the other hand, you were a wreck after a week. Imagine being that down bad over a man. You should be repulsed by yourself. What would Andrea Dworkin say?”

“And that’s it, we’ve had a good run, bye,” I begin, trying to get out of bed, but Jihoon stops me, “let me go. You said yourself that I should be repulsed because I like you.”

“Three hours and five minutes,” Jihoon replies, “not bad at all, given that two of them were spent sleeping.”

“Really, who the fuck sleeps after getting together with someone? It’s like, violating the first ethics of relationships,” I grumble, “imagine kissing your best friend, who’s now your boyfriend, who then proceeds to take a nap in your bed? Who would do that?”

“Were you disappointed?” Jihoon asks, his expression changing to sly, “were you expecting something else?”

I roll my eyes, struggling to get out of his grip, but unfortunately, all the hours Jihoon has put in the gym has now created a reality where I can no longer get out of his grip, “no, I wasn’t, I was just expecting you to not snore on me after kissing me in my living room.”

His face falls, and he is about to say something, when my phone rings loudly, making me jump, “what the hell? Why is your ringtone so loud?”

“It’s not!” I reply, “I just forgot to switch it back to silent after coming back home today. I had it set on full volume last night. And give that to me.” I swipe to accept the call,  and soon enough, Jeonghan’s voice floats through the speakers.

“How are you two doing?” Jeonghan asks, and I stare at Jihoon, who seems to be equally confused as me.

“Jihoon said he was going to meet you, I figured that you two might have finally gotten your shits together,” he clarifies, “I’m not that old, nor do I have enough sense to stay out of your affairs.”

“Yes, yes, hyung, you’re the nosiest of us all,” Jihoon grumbles from next to me, “yes, we’re doing fine, thank you very much.”

“Great!” I can hear the barely-concealed glee in his voice, “Chan, tell the rest of the guys to pay up. I’m the only one who guessed correctly that they were going to get together by today.”

“Pay up—wait, hyung, you were betting on my love life?” Jihoon screeches, “why the hell would you do that?”

“I’ve seen and heard you pine over her for the past eight years, you nitwit, of course, I’m going to host a betting pool for when you finally get together. Not to mention, you’ve just made me an entirely obscene amount of money, which I’m going to spend happily.”

“Wait, if you knew Jihoon was going to come to see me, why did you take so long to call us?”

“I was being polite.”

“For what?”

“Well, if you two were having sex, I would not like to be calling in the middle of it now, would I?” he giggles even as Jihoon and I both let out twin gasps of surprise, “What? Did you not put years of sexual tension into use?”

“That’s inappropriate, hyung.”

“So, you haven’t.”

“Oppa!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Jeonghan lets out one final demonic cackle (still cannot believe I called him my angel once), “I’ll let you two lovebirds be together. Oh, and Soonyoung told me to tell you, Jihoon, that he’ll take care of the meeting today. You can take a day off once in a while.”

“Thanks, hyung, I’ll go back to sleeping,” Jihoon mutters, handing the phone over to me and immediately burrowing himself in the sheets to get some more sleep.

“I’ll make myself scarce then, shall I?”

“Wait, oppa,” I say, thinking very hard, “you did this on purpose didn’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I mean the whole situation. You were the one who kept telling me about how long Jihoon has liked me for, and you were the one who I called before Jihoon took the phone away from you and talked to me.” My voice takes on an accusatory note, “Yoon Jeonghan, did you manipulate me and Jihoon into confessing so that you could win a bet?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that accusation.”

“So, you did.” I stand up from the bed, ignoring Jihoon, who’s already snoring softly, “Yoon Jeonghan, you better give us a share of the pool.”

Jeonghan laughs on the other end of the phone, “fine, fine, I will. I’ll take you and Jihoon out for samgyeopsal this week. Cool?”

“Just so you know, while we both will be there, I still don’t appreciate this.”

“Come on, writer,” Jeonghan wheedles, “anyone could see that you were both circling each other for half a decade. It was exhausting to watch, you know.”

“Fuck you.”

“Love you too!” he hangs up, and I go back to bed, sidling up to Jihoon, who hugs me in his sleep. Its nice, being this way. I can pretend that the world is just the two of us, in my bed, sleeping in the afternoon.

Jihoon doesn’t look lonely anymore. In fact, he looks happy, smiling even in his sleep. When was the last time I saw him like that? A memory floats up to my mind, of another afternoon, spent in Jihoon’s  flat, after we’d all finished giving the final exams. Jihoon had a job lined up with a production company, and I was about to start working with an online fashion magazine. Joshua was in graduate school, and everything was fine. We spent that one afternoon watching trashy soap operas on Netflix, drank too much booze and smoked too many cigarettes, and finally, just before we went to sleep, I could swear I saw a ghost of a smile on Jihoon’s face.

Until a week later, when his enlistment notice came, and I never saw that smile again. But now it is there, and I can reach out and touch him, and I can see his face relax even more under my touch, as if Jihoon had been craving it, even in his denial. I probably have, even after so long. Years of wondering ‘what if’ and now, finally, it’s here.

“Jihoon,” I whisper, “Jihoon.”

“What?” he burrows further into the blankets, “I’m cold now.”

“Jeonghan kind of manipulated us both into getting together.”

“He did?” Jihoon mumbles, “good for him, I now have a girlfriend.”

—

Jihoon wakes up in the middle of the evening, and shakes me awake too, because he’s hungry and I have to cook for him.

“I’m the one who told you about this apartment, so you kind of owe me,” he says, perched on a stool, “and no ramen, please. I’ve been living on that for so long I know all flavours that are there, and the convenience store guy looks at me strangely whenever I go inside.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” I mutter, chopping up vegetables to put in a stew, “I don’t have anything in the house, so you’re going to have to be happy with a random stew of things I found lying in the fridge.”

“That’s fine.” He replies, “at least I don’t have to starve.”

“Yes, Mr Woozi, I appreciate the concern, now wash the rice.”

Lunch (dinner? Linner?) is kimchi stew, with old vegetables and things that were almost going bad, but he eats it like it’s a Michelin-starred restaurant meal. Jihoon is not really picky: I’ve seen him eat everything from day-old scraps to a croissant that was growing mould on it (the less said about that the better) but us eating in my kitchen, this feels strangely domestic to me, in a way that’s almost scary.

“Are you scared?” Jihoon asks, spooning up rice into his mouth, “don’t worry, I’m scared too.”

I stare at him, “have you become psychic, by any chance? Do you want to change your profession to shaman?”

“I’d be a shitty shaman either way,” he replies, “the only person I know how to read well is you. You have that look on your face, so I asked.”

“What look?”

“The look that you get when you’re terrified of something, but you also want to do it.”

“I don’t have a look.”

Jihoon stares at me, “You totally do, I know it; it’s the same look you got when you attempted to take that class on Psychoanalysis in second year.”

“I sucked at it.”

“That’s not the point. The point is, you were terrified, but you also wanted to do it, I know that look. You might think you’re fooling people, and you can, but the last person you can fool is me; Joshua, to an extent, but I doubt he’s made a hobby of reading your every expression over a period of eight years.”

I make a face. Jihoon notices, because of course he does, “that’s the face you make when you don’t like what the other person is saying, but you know that they’re right.”

“That’s unfair, Jihoon.”

“Is it? I’ve known you for so long, of course I should know about your expressions.” He smiles, before leaning over to kiss me on the cheek, “that’s the expression you make when your surprised.”

“Then don’t fucking surprise me!” I press a hand to my cheek, “what was the reason for that?”

“Nothing, just making sure I didn’t dream up the last few hours, and that I can really kiss you whenever I feel like it.”

“I have to want it too, you know. Also, when did you get so keen on physical affection? I’ve literally never seen you be this way with anyone before.’

He shrugs, “I wasn’t pining over those people for years, so that’s there, too.”

I don’t know what to say to this, so I just laugh at his words, “Jihoon, aren’t you being a bit hard on them?”

“On who?”

“The women you’ve dated. The people I’ve dated. Like it or not, they are a part of us. They’ve made us into the kind of people we are today.” I take a sip of the soup, “would you have asked me out if we were in university? Or after you came back from the military?”

He pauses to think about it, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of kimchi, “probably not.”

“And even if you did, we would have hated each other, and broken up in a week. So, let’s not talk about the people who have given a part of their lives to us.”

Jihoon nods, “understood. Does this mean you’re going to invite your exes to your wedding?”

I laugh, “not to that extent, no, but I will respect them for their time and affection that they gave to me because for better or for worse, they were a part of who I was, before I fell in love with you.”

“Fell in love?” Jihoon gasps, “are you saying you’re in love with me?”

“As if this was even part of the question. Of course I’m in love with you.” I take a deep breath, standing up to clear out the remnants of dinner, “I don’t know how to say this properly but, I’ve loved you all throughout the time I’ve known you. As a friend, as a lover, as my family here in Seoul. I’ve loved you all the time. At the risk of sounding cringe, there has not been a time when I haven’t been full of love for you. Even if it didn’t seem that way, I’ve loved you for years.”

Jihoon doesn’t say anything, instead wraps me into a hug, “have you been taking lessons on how to deliver a speech?”

“Why, yes, I have.”

He giggles, which is a rare sound coming from him, “I’ve always loved you too. Even if I didn’t show it, even if I didn’t express it well, I have loved you.”

I kiss him, “sorry for taking all this time to realise my feelings.”

He shakes his head, “no, don’t be sorry for that. The way you are, the way you will be, I’ll always love you.”

—

I text Eunseo in the evening, asking her to meet me for coffee. Joshua and Jihoon are both too busy for brunch, so I have some time to burn. Eunseo texts me back within minutes, eagerly agreeing to meet me. I text her the name of the same café the three of us go to for brunch.

“You look great,” Eunseo says as soon as I walk in, “did something great happen?”

I stare at her. She’s dressed to go out this morning, wearing a light green dress under a heavy brown coat. In comparison, I’m wearing my office pants and a white shirt. We’re dressed miles apart. Saying that I look good is almost an insult.

But Eunseo doesn’t insult anyone, even knowingly, so I take my seat and say, “you’re joking.”

“No, not at all,” she replies, “you’ve got this glow that I cannot really put my finger on. It seems as though something great happened in the past few days.”

“Well, I did begin seeing Jihoon, so,” I shrug, but Eunseo is already clapping her hands in joy, “what? What’s going on?”

“Wait, I have to tell Joshua to come meet us,” she chirps, “I’m not saying anything until he comes back, but I’m so happy for you, you have no idea.”

Joshua, who was looking at suits in the morning, comes to the café within minutes, by which we already have ordered a bunch of things. He comes in looking harried, and the first thing he says, “I thought this was an emergency! You texted me she was dying!”

Eunseo laughs, “that was the only way to get your attention, josh, I’m so sorry.” Her expression shows that she isn’t sorry at all.

“No, you’re not,” Joshua sits down on the chairs, “you’re not sorry at all, Eunseo.”

They share a sweet moment, and normally, I’d pull a face and call them cringe, but today, I just don’t feel like it. maybe it’s the hormones of being in a relationship, or maybe I’m finally growing soft around the edges, but I think, what would happen if I text Jihoon to come see us right now? He’d probably scowl and refuse, but I can’t help but imagine the two of us in place of Joshua and Eunseo, sharing a nice moment. This is it; I think to myself, this is the moment you realise you’ve gone entirely crazy because of a man.

“Anyway,” I say loudly, interrupting the two of them, “Eunseo called you here because I have an announcement.”

Joshua stares at the two of us, “is she dying?”

“No! What the fuck, Joshua, I’m not dying!” I say, irritated by this line of conversation, “as I was telling Eunseo, I’m not dying, I just began seeing Jihoon.”

“But you can see him all the time,” Joshua says, still clueless as ever.

“Romantically. Joshua, romantically. We’re dating.” I say, rolling my eyes.

Joshua stares at me, speechless for a whole ten seconds, before he starts laughing, “finally. Cannot believe I had to endure all those years of Jihoon pining over you and you dancing around him because you wanted to avoid your own feelings.” He turns to Eunseo, who looks equal parts disgusted and horrified, “they are probably two of the most obvious people in existence.”

I narrow my eyes, “you both knew about this? And no one told me?”

To her credit, Eunseo looks apologetic, “I just didn’t want to burden you with the knowledge that we all were aware of the dynamics between you and Jihoon; you seemed like you were still figuring it out, and Jihoon didn’t seem like he wanted anyone else to know. But he’s right, you know. You two were seriously the most obvious people in the world.”

I want the earth to split up and swallow me whole, right at this moment. What do you mean we were the most obvious people in the whole world? “What do you mean we were the most obvious people in the whole world?” I wasn’t even aware that Jihoon had feelings for me until a few months ago! “I wasn’t even aware of my own feelings until very recently.”

Before Eunseo can reply to my statement, her phone rings, and she makes a face before picking it up, saying, “it’s the realtor. He is supposed to meet us later in the week.”

Joshua pulls an identical face, and not for the first time since they started dating, I wonder why it is that all couples start to look alike after a few years of being together. However, for the first time, I also wonder how Jihoon and I would look like after a few years together. Would we be annoying, like Joshua and Eunseo? Or would we be one of those couples who always fought and broke up and patched up, all within the span of a week, like those people in university? But that would mean I’d have to spend enough time with Jihoon, becoming one of those couples.

“You’re putting on your thinking face,” Joshua says, bringing me out of my reverie, “it’s the expression you make whenever you’re imagining something.”

“I don’t do that,” I defend reflexively, but I know he’s true, simply because this is not the first time someone has told me about my ‘thinking face’. It is, however, the first time that someone has called me out when I was thinking about Jihoon. “What were you saying?”

“Eunseo just left to take the call from the realtor,” Joshua smiles, “I must say, I saw this coming from a mile away.”

I scowl, “what do you mean you saw this coming from a mile away? I’m not someone who’s that predictable, am I?”

“Well, it is true. You are kind of predictable,” Joshua shrugs, “you’ve been wearing the same clothes since university, you eat the same ten dishes all the time, and you even like the same kind of side dishes. You’re very predictable.”

I sigh, “yes, fine, I’m predictable. Still doesn’t mean you saw this coming from a mile away.”

“Have you seen the way you and Jihoon behave around each other? No matter how much you say that you can’t stand the sight of the other person, Jihoon cares about you the most. He drops everything at a moment’s notice to come to your aid. You do the same thing too, it’s just that you aren’t as forthcoming about it as him.”

“Was that why you were behaving weirdly on that night?”

“What night?” Joshua seems to have entirely forgotten that one Sunday, except it is ingrained into my mind like its just yesterday, “I don’t remember anything.”

“The night that you proposed to Eunseo,” I say, trying my best to not sound frustrated, “when Jihoon told you he was helping me hook up with people, you reacted really strangely.”

“Oh, yes, I did,” Joshua looks sheepish, “I shouldn’t have overreacted like that, but it was very confusing for me.”

“Confusing?”

“Imagine one of your closest friends, who has been pining over another one of your closest friends, telling you that he is helping the girl he has had a crush on for the past six years, in getting her a boyfriend. How would you feel about that?”

“Um, well,” I pause on it, “I’d think my friend was stupid.”

“That’s it!” Joshua yells, “see how it was confusing for me? all throughout university I thought Jihoon had a crush on you, but all of a sudden, after years as your friend,  he’s trying to set you up with other men? I thought he was being an idiot.”

“Well, I told him he shouldn’t be doing that,” I grumble, “he didn’t even listen to me and went and blabbed to you about how he was going to set me up with one of the boys.”

“You were the one who made that comment about Mingyu,” Joshua accuses, “I’d better not see you make any excuses for yourself. And what does ‘platonically motorboat’  even mean?”

“It means you would like to motorboat someone, but platonically, not romantically,” Eunseo says, walking into the café, “babe, the realtor wants to see us today, if we can.”

“Really? He wants to meet us today? After changing the date so many times?” Joshua groans, “never mind. We should be glad he’s meeting us poor people, who just want to buy a newlywed home.”

“You should be glad he’s meeting you at all,” I say, gesturing for the check, “if I ever saw a credit score as bad as yours’, I’d refuse to give you any credit, let alone show you houses.”

Both of them pull identical scowls, “yes, yes, showing off your excellent credit, go on,” Joshua says, “I just know you bragged all about it to Jihoon already.”

“You’re not wrong,” I reply, grinning, “but Jihoon said I should brag to others too, so I’m bragging to you.”

“Never mind her babe,” Eunseo puts her hands over Joshua’s ears, “she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

The three of us walk out into the early winter morning, shivering in the cold. Joshua and Eunseo promptly set off in a taxi to go meet their realtor, while I make my way to my apartment, suppressing my urge to text Jihoon about his work. I’ve been endlessly curious about his process ever since university, but the only times he’s allowed me into the studio I’ve either fallen asleep within ten minutes of being there, or we had conversations about things that were not related to his music production. On the other hand, if I text him right now, badgering him about his work, I will seem like either a. an insane, clingy girlfriend, or b. a stupid, clingy girlfriend. In both cases, Jihoon is going to get sick of me so fast, he’s going to break a record with how fast he’s going to dump me.

In university, I was part of the journalism club, and on the first group outing, one of the seniors, drunk off of one too many soju cocktails, had taken the first-years aside and talked about how one should behave when in a relationship. “Now listen,” she had said, “never, I repeat, never, let him know that you’re into him, especially in the first few months of dating. The less he knows about your real feelings, the better.”

“But sunbae,” one of my freshman year-mates had raised her hand, “what happens if your boyfriend gets to know how much you like him in the first few months of the relationship?”

The senior had sighed, before saying, “you’ve got to understand why men like women. They don’t like the person we actually are; they like the chase. They like the person we pretend to be when we start dating them for the first time. Therefore, unless you’re absolutely sure that this is a man you want to keep around for a long time, you must not let your real self show around him.”

We had all nodded, as if we understood what she was talking about, and I had spent the last few years   of my life earnestly following this rule. Never allowing my real self to be shown around the people I have dated. But now I’m dating Jihoon, who has been around for all of the embarrassing chapters of my life. How do I navigate this new change in dynamic?

My phone pings, and I look down, expecting a text from Joshua or Eunseo, talking about their wedding, but instead of the two of them, its Jihoon.

hoon: did you tell joshuji?

hoon: he just texted me btw

hoon: he also says that we have both been huge idiots

I pause in the middle of the road in my surprise, and narrowly miss hitting a pedestrian. I always knew Joshua was a snitch, but telling Jihoon not even ten minutes after I’ve left? That’s just low.

big dick (canon): cannot believe Joshua snitched

big dick (canon): actually no, I do believe it

big dick (canon): he and Eunseo ditched me after brunch so I’m now being forced to go back to my home

big dick (canon): my home that I love and adore

big dick (canon): but still, I don’t really want to hang out in my apartment all by myself

big dick (canon): it’s so boring

big dick (canon): I’m going to kms

hoon: you know, one of the many, many perks of having me as your boyfriend is

hoon: that you can come hang out in the studio with me all the time

hoon: and I won’t even get angry with you, unlike how I get with others

hoon: because I love you, and this is a perk I provide to my loved ones ONLY

big dick (canon): you have canonically told all twelve of your friends to fuck off from the studio, at least once in your lifetime

big dick (canon): and I’m not even including all the times you have told me no for an interview

big dick (canon): if I count all those times, its going to go to a hundred, EASILY

big dick (canon): and you’re telling me to come hang out with you

big dick (canon): this is HIGHLY sus

hoon: just come to the studio my god you’re so dramatic

hoon: don’t take this as a sign to stop being dramatic, I actually like it when you do that

hoon: if you tell this to anyone else, I’m going to deny it and kill you

big dick (canon): you won’t do that you like me too much

big dick (canon): anyway, should I bring something for you to eat

hoon: have I ever told you that I love u

big dick (canon): yes, u have

big dick (canon): multiple times, in fact

hoon: ugh so dramatic

big dick (canon): I won’t get you anything, then

hoon: get me some fried chicken

big dick (canon): I’m having it delivered to your studio. I’m coming in ten

By the time I enter Jihoon’s studio, the chicken has been delivered, and I open the door to see Jihoon munching on a drumstick. Unlike other days, the studio is messy, and he looks like he’s been through hell. Which, if you take Jihoon’s word for it, is not much, just three meetings.

“Shouldn’t you leave one drumstick for me?” I ask, shrugging my winter coat off, “fuck, its cold as hell outside.”

“Needed brain food,” Jihoon replies through a mouthful of chicken, “had a meeting in the morning, the sound engineers needed some changes to be done to Hoshi’s title track.”

“Sounds like shit,” I mutter, picking up a piece, “you’ve been working on that since the morning?”

“Not just that, but the girl group song too,” he replies, “they liked the first song so much that they want another song from me. I’ve been looking through the scratch files on my computer to find out what songs I can give to them that aren’t emo ballads I made after one too many drinks.”

“You know, some of us just vomit after getting wasted. Are you trying to brag to me that you become more creative when drunk?”

“I’m not bragging, some of these are actually atrocious,” he says, pointing to the icons on the screen, “this one is just called ‘I’m never going to be alive’. What does that mean? Why was I thinking about this at three in the morning?”

“Entertaining suicidal thoughts at three in the morning is something we’ve all done, actually.”

“This is just called ‘Love hurts’, and this one, I named it ‘Park PD is a bitch’.”

“I’ll go tell him you said that.” I laugh when Jihoon’s face darkens, “okay, okay, fine, I won’t, but why do you hate him so much?”

“I don’t hate him at all. he was probably getting on my nerves at that moment, and instead of talking it out like real adults, I chose to instead make a song draft calling him a bitch.”

I look closely at the computer screen, “Wait, Jihoon. All of these songs are love songs. To an extent. How many love songs have you written over the years?”

He takes a minute to answer that, “since university, I’ve either created existential songs or love songs, so, I’d say, about a hundred? Give or take, but I won’t put a number on it, since I’m not really sure.”

“You wrote about a hundred love songs?”

“Yes, I did, and they’re all in here,” Jihoon pats the external hard drive hooked up to the computer, “this holds pretty much all of my work.”

“Makes sense as to why you would guard it with your life.” I reply.

I go to sit back down, putting my feet up on the sofa, and Jihoon gives me a dirty look. I just smile in reply. He’s always a stickler for these kind of rules, but it’s funny to see him be so rattled. I’m not going to lie and say that seeing him be irritated is funny, because it is. An angry Jihoon is a cute Jihoon, I’ve learnt that back in university. Especially when he pouts like that.

“You still wear minion socks?” Jihoon says, stuffing his mouth with chicken, “I gave you that as a gag gift last year, you should have thrown them out as soon as you got them.”

“I like the socks. They’re comfortable.” I reply, shrugging, “who gave you the idea to give me socks as a gag gift?”

“Soonyoung. He thought it would be funny to give you cartoon socks.”

“Joke’s on him, I like having my feet warm.”

After Jihoon and I finish the chicken and clean up in record time, he goes back to his workstation, and I’m free to observe him as much as I want to. Seeing Jihoon in his element is always an experience. Even in university, I used to observe him when he worked. He has a singular focus on whatever he does, from eating to producing music. I’m also not going to lie to myself and say that he isn’t attractive when he works, because somehow his attractiveness gets turned up a hundred notches when he’s working. Or maybe, I like him too much and I find everything about him attractive. His eyes are laser-focused on his work, and the lines of his neck, disappearing into his shirt, is at odds with the Jihoon in my bed yesterday, peacefully sleeping as he held me for warmth. Before last night, I never knew that Lee Jihoon was someone who got cold even underneath a comforter, and liked holding someone else for warmth.

“You’re staring,” Jihoon says, breaking my line of thought, “I’ve been talking to you for the past ten seconds and you’ve been staring into space.”

“I was just looking at my handsome boyfriend as he works. Is that not allowed?”

“Stop saying that.” He mutters, going back to his work, but I can see him turning red. Jackpot.

“Jihoon.”

“Hm?”

“Are you blushing right now?”

He turns around to give me an impressive glare, “no, I’m not.”

“The back of your neck is red.” I grin, “were you getting shy?”

“No, I wasn’t.” he lies, his ears going red. At this rate, he might burst into fumes.

“Your ears say otherwise, Jihoon,” I stand up, walking over to his chair, “your ears and your neck is red. You’re getting shy, aren’t you?”

“What! No, I’m not—” he pauses for a moment, turning away from me, before grabbing me by the waist, “stop teasing.”

“I won’t,” I giggle, taking the opportunity to climb into his lap, “see! You’re going all red.”

His face is still turned away from me, but I can see the blush on his cheeks, “are you going to continue to lie to me, Jihoon?”

He pauses, before huffing, “you’re gonna regret teasing me, you know.”

“Pretty sure I won’t—aah!”

Unfortunately, my plan had but one singular flaw in it. I had underestimated how much he worked out on a weekly basis. Jihoon just glares at me, before picking me up and walks over to the sofa, my legs dangling around his waist. Seriously, how much does this guy work out?

“Really? I was working, and in the zone, and you had to tease me like that?” he grumbles, before unceremoniously dumping me on the sofa, “I shouldn’t have invited you over. Let me go back to work.”

“But you did,” I grin, my hands around his neck, “you invited me over. Lured me in, I’ should say. You lured me in, and now you should pay the price.”

Jihoon groans, before smiling, “is this how it’s going to be all the time?”

“Mm, I’m afraid so.”

Lying down on the sofa, I can see the lights on the ceiling, bright white, ones that Jihoon claimed helped him with his workflow. I hated them in the beginning, claimed that they hurt my eyes, but over time, I grew used to them, to the point where I can’t imagine there being anything else. Bright white lights. A comfortable sofa. Jihoon’s face obscuring my vision, so close that I can make out every individual eyelash. His mouth, full and open, insistent against mine. Jihoon kisses like he wants to do nothing else, I’ve realised. As though this was what he wanted to do all along. Anything is okay. I’m not afraid of falling, if it’s Jihoon. which is why  I find myself doing strange things. Like allowing him to touch me, even if it’s in the middle of day, in a room where anyone might come in; like allowing him to undress me, even if I’m underneath harsh white lights. Because its him, because its Jihoon. I can touch him in return, slip my hands underneath the shirt he’s wearing, because I can press my mouth just as insistently against him as him.

“So, this is how it’s going to be, is it?” he says, unbuttoning my shirt, “wait. You’re not wearing a bra?”

I roll my eyes. Of all the things he can talk about, this is what he chooses to focus on? “No, Jihoon, its winter. I’m wearing three layers over this. Of course I don’t want to wear a bra. It’s too much work.”

“I wish it was winter forever,” he replies, continuing to unbutton my shirt, “good god, if this is the outcome, I wish it was winter all throughout the year.”

“The economy is gonna hate you.” I mumble against his mouth, “imagine a whole year of winter. The economy is gonna go haywire. And all because you’re horny.”

“It’s a proof of how much I’m attracted to you, that I’m still working on  your shirt after you just started talking about the economy,” Jihoon finally manages to slip off the shirt I’m wearing, “total buzzkill.”

I scowl, yanking his shirt over his head in one go, “sorry I’m such a buzzkill, then.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Jihoon kisses my cheek, “you’re so beautiful. Have I told you that?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Remind me to tell you this every day, then.” His hands are soft on my hair, stroking, “you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.”

“Even compared to Jeonghan?”

“Even compared to Jeonghan.” He repeats, “why do you have to bring him up now?”

“Just like that.” I smile, kissing him softly, “so, you like this?’

“Is this how it’s going to be now? For the foreseeable future?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Thank god,” Jihoon murmurs, his hands on the button closure of my trousers, “I can’t wait for the future, then.”

—

Being in this industry means you have to meet with a lot of people. When I say a lot of people, I do mean a lot of people. I’ve managed to keep my connections alive, but it has not been easy getting to this place. Not the least for someone like me, who had no one in the industry to rely on. In the beginning, when I was working at the fashion magazine, everywhere I went I would be marked as an outsider, and it was surprising how easily doors could get closed. I’ve always been resentful of those times, but now, now it feels like a moment in time that never called its name out for me, and I cannot bring myself to care.

These are the thoughts that I usually have in the mornings. But now, things have changed.

For one, Jihoon is sleeping next to me, his hands holding me close. Its strange, looking at him like this, peaceful instead of a permanent frown etched into his brow, a small smile on his face instead of the scowl that seems to have carved out its own position on his face.

Nowadays, I wake up before Jihoon does, and on most days, I spend some time looking at his face. He was always beautiful, but now, now he looks ethereal. It takes all my self-control to not run from this, because how can someone like me be happy? What right do I have to happiness?

“You’re thinking too much again,” Jihoon says, shaking my train of thought loose, “I can practically hear your gears turning.”

“Morning,” I reply, hoping it sounds smooth and easy and not like I’ve been consumed with depressing thoughts.

Jihoon hums, pulling me in closer, “you always think too much. Its time you stopped thinking so fast.”

“Hm? Do you have a way of doing that?”

That gets his attention, and he opens his eyes. Still sleepy, but fully awake. “You want me to do something about your overthinking?”

“Yes.”

“Hm, I have a thought on how you can change that.”

“And what is that?”

He says nothing, merely pulls me closer.  

“Have I told you how much I love you?” Jihoon asks, after we’re both finished, lying in a haze of our own happiness, oblivious to the world around us, “if I haven’t, consider it an oversight I wish to rectify. As much time as it takes.”

“Are you—proposing to me right now?” I ask.

“Well, it’s not really a proposal yet, but I am going to. And it’s going to be with flowers and a grand gesture that you really can’t turn down.”

“Never took you for a romanticist, Lee Jihoon.”

“Well, that’s the beauty of dating me.”

—

Mr Hong is an impressive writer, which is perhaps why I have always been a little jealous of him and his work. It’s also not at all strange as to why he only agrees to interviews with me, given his prickly demeanour, which has not really improved in the years that I have managed to work with him.

But even with all my misgivings, work is work, and I make my way to the office to pick up my files for the interview, and Seungkwan offers me a warm latte, insisting that I should carry it into the interview. The drink is still warm in my hands, and I stare at him. he just shrugs, “what, you should take it to him, it’ll look nice if we bring him something to drink in an interview.”

“Seungkwan,” I say, trying my best not to laugh, “have you read all of Mr Hong’s interviews with me?”

“Yes, I have, why?”

“Then you should also know that he only drinks tea from a specific tea garden in India, right?”

Seungkwan stares back. “He’s that much of a tea snob?”

“He earns ten billion per year in book sales, he can afford to be a tea snob. He imports the tea himself. He doesn’t drink coffee, and he would also hate it if I offered him a drink. It makes him feel like he’s not being a good host to me.”

“She’s like a criminal profiler when it comes to him,” the Editor hands Seungkwan a file, “managed to get all this information from the one single television segment filmed at his house.”

“Kind of forced to, since there was no prior information on him,” I mutter, but Seungkwan’s eyes widen, and he grabs my hands, eyes shining, “what the hell are you doing? You’re scaring the shit out of me.”

“You’re so cool, sunbae,” Seungkwan says, almost giggling from his excitement, “can’t believe you exist.”

“Seems like her boyfriend cannot believe she exists either,” The Assistant Editor sets down a cup of coffee at my desk, “cute guy. Handed me the coffee and said I should give it to the Associate Editor.”

“Jihoon said that?” I ask, picking up the warm cup. It’s an iced café mocha, sugary enough for Seungkwan to cringe when he takes a taste of it. “Jihoon doesn’t really refer to me by my title.”

“He always does with us, though,” Seungkwan says, “in fact, he’s been quite besotted with you since your university days.”

“University? It took them that long?” Haewon tuts, “really, sunbae, you should have just gotten together by now.”

“He should be doing that more, if you ask me,” the Assistant Editor smiles, “how does it feel to be the author of one of the most popular columns in the newspaper? There are a couple thousand hits on it every day, and that’s me being conservative with the estimate.”

“They love that column,” the Editor pipes up, “we sure are a depressed country.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve just been giving a voice to the most depraved of our society,” I mutter, slinging my bag over my shoulder in what feels like a fourth time this morning, “Seungkwan, are you coming along?”

“Yes!”

Writer Hong’s house is in the same neighbourhood as Jeonghan’s, but he has been living in it since the 90’s and to my knowledge, there has not been a violent murder to reduce the price of the house. Not that he would complain about it, given his obsession with true crime and the lurid crime novels he had written in the 80’s under a pseudonym that I had dug out for him to agree for an interview; because while the television segment did help, it was nothing compared to the immovable force of Writer Hong’s refusal to be in the spotlight. Which is why I had to yell out one of the names of his books (written in the 80’s) before he could disconnect the call. It was the first month I had been working at the news desk, and I was different. Hungrier. For recognition, or for someone to tell me that leaving my comparatively cushy, but dead-end job at a fashion magazine to pursue a career in journalism (good journalism), but journalism that does not pay the bills, was a bad idea. It was my first scoop, and I still remember being congratulated around the office like I had conquered a country. It was supposed to be a one-off thing, something a young writer had accomplished against the better judgement of all the adults involved.

But then Writer Hong had gone and taken a shine to me. I like the way you conduct interviews, he had said, very short. Not like those other blithering idiots who only go on and on about how great my work is.

Which brings me and Seungkwan to this morning, standing outside his mansion—it’s a mansion, a house the two of us can only dream of buying one day—in the cold winter air, Seungkwan nervously clutching the file he’s kept holding on to ever since we left the office building.

I ring the doorbell, and Seungkwan whimpers. Whimpers. I give him a sharp look, and he manages to compose himself just in time for Writer Hong to open the door, grumpy and ruffled, but he opens the door and lets us in, and soon enough, we are sitting in the middle of a tastefully done room, waiting for him to serve us with expensive Darjeeling tea. Seungkwan’s foot vibrates at an almost supersonic speed.

“So,” he says without much of a preamble, entering the room holding a teakwood tray, “I should call you Writer now, instead of Associate Editor.”

Its difficult to stop the blush that spreads across my cheeks, and even Seungkwan lightens up at that statement. Writer Hong had always been someone who valued propriety and how to address someone properly above all else, a relic of the old age, even if he had hated it in his youth.

“I’m still Associate Editor to you, sir,” I reply, holding the porcelain teacup carefully, “the writing is just a column.”

“And one of the better columns I’ve read in the last few years,” he grumbles, “my wife made me read it, you know. And I thought it was nice. Better than what that hack Kim Hong-Sik has been getting up to in these past few days.”

“Did not think a column on unachieved dreams would be exciting to you, sir,” I say, with a small smile, and he guffaws.

“You should start writing properly, then,” he says, “if you think your column is not deserving  of praise, going against the word of me, arguably the best writer Korea has seen in the past few decades.”

“That’s going a bit overboard, don’t you think, sir?” I say, and Seungkwan gasps, but Writer Hong just laughs ad laughs, “I mean, Han Kang exists.”

“Best Male author, then.”

The rest of the interview goes smoothly, and he even warms up to Seungkwan considerably, although he calls his way of peeling oranges ‘disgraceful to the flavour of an orange’. Its good, and it makes me feel accomplished, at noon, and before we leave, he even relents to take a picture with me, amidst his impressive collection of Korean art.  

“That went very well,” Seungkwan says, as we flag down a taxi, “didn’t know he could be like that. He’s usually so—reserved. And grumpy. In all the award shows.”

“He’s big on privacy, but fame really got to that.”

“Privacy?”

“There was once a story about his daughter, who passed away before she turned a year old. He and his wife hated that article so much he stopped giving interviews.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I say, closing my eyes, and Seungkwan falls silent. He was probably too young to have read that article—hell, I was too young to have read that article, but its easy, to wield this destructive power if you have it, especially without any regard for how the other party might feel about it; most people in my line of work get drunk on it, ruining lives just for the sake of ruining them.

We pick up lunch at a corner store, and walk into the office building in silence. Seungkwan has been looking up old articles, and he’s upset, clearly, given how his mouth settles into a frown, one that doesn’t go away even after Haewon presents us with doughnuts from the cafeteria, a present, she says, from the Editor-in-Chief.

“They’re waiting for you in the Metting room,” she tells me, and I frown, because why the hell would they be there?

“Ah, there’s the Associate Editor!” the Editor booms, his head poking out of the meeting room door, “come have a chat with us.”

Its normal, jovial even, but I approach the room cautiously, only to be greeted with wide smiles from the two men.

“There’s a book deal for you.” The Editor-in-Chief,  a man of blessedly few words, says, as soon as I enter, “they like the column, and they want to publish it.”

“Of course, the legal team is going to establish your fees and how much of it should be going to the company—” they drone on, but all the words and thoughts have flow out of my head because holy shit I have a book deal now. Writer Hong’s words from this morning come to mind, and I smile and nod through the entire meeting, assuring them that while the company’s lawyers are sufficient, I should like to talk to my own lawyers about this, and that everything is okay, I would really like to go over the terms and conditions of the contract before signing it, and yes, I was reviewing it positively. While they hate that a column is possibly going out of circulation, they can’t help but think about all the extra money this is going to be bringing in, the extra money and the popularity, being known as the company that fostered a young author’s work. It’s a win-win deal, one that I would be stupid to turn down.

I leave the meeting room and call Jihoon, my hands shaking, and he picks up within three rings, his voice soothing and calm like it always is, “hello?”

“I’m going to be a writer,” I say, no other explanation or long-winded preamble, and Jihoon understands, “can you come pick me up from work?”

“I’ll be there in half an hour.”

I stand up, straighten my pants, and leave the bathroom, marching straight up to the editor’s desk, “I’m taking the rest of the day off.”

“The rest of the day?” he sputters, “wait, what about the interview?”

Seungkwan pops up his head, “I can write that. It’s just compiling all that was said.”

“I’ll check it, and Seungkwan needs to take point on a project,” I say, “besides, if you want me to focus on the column full-time, then someone needs to interview Writer Hong instead of me, right?”

“Still, you shouldn’t be leaving in the middle of the day,” he protests weakly, and the Assistant Editor smacks him with a pamphlet, “what was that for?”

“Clearly, she has someone waiting to pick her up, you buffoon,” she groans, “when will you understand? Just because your love life is barren, doesn’t mean everyone else is the same as you.”

Seungkwan winces, “wait, are you going home with Jihoon-hyung right now?”

I roll my eyes, “would you prefer to have the sordid details?”

“No, thank you.”

A peal of laughter follows me as I walk out of the office, and then the elevator and then Jihoon is standing in the lobby, flushed and wonderful, his nose red in the snow and biting wind. Because I’m a sane woman who is not given to theatrics, I merely walk up to him and tuck my arm into his, moving past the sliding doors onto the street. He’s wearing slippers, I notice, he must have come here straight from the studio.

“Very different from the feral woman who attacked me last night, I see,” Jihoon murmurs, strapping me into the seat of his car and kissing me for a tad bit (okay, thirty seconds) longer than what can be termed as an appropriate hello kiss.

“I was not that feral.”

“I have to wear a turtleneck for a week!” he exclaims, pulling down his shirt to show the extent of the damage, and I look away, embarrassed, “no! you don’t get to look away from me!”

“I like you in turtlenecks.”

That pleases him, and he smiles , “then I’ll wear them throughout the year.”

“Jihoon, you’ll suffocate.”

“I’ll have you.” He grins, “so, celebration?”

“I want to laze away today. Take a nap. Order shitty food.”

“I’m assuming there’s coitus involved. And not to mention, you dragged me out of work today.”

I wrinkle my nose, “do not say that word ever again, or else I’m kicking you out of my bed. And besides, what’s the point in being a famous producer if they don’t let you get home to your fiancée now and then?”

“What, coitus?”

“You’re no longer allowed into my bed,” I mutter darkly, and he just laughs.

The apartment building is mostly quiet this time of the day, but we pass a fair few old people who give us strange looks for coming back so early from work. Given that there have been multiple witnesses to me coming back at one in the morning, tired from overtime, and Jihoon walking into the elevator when the old ladies have finished their morning stroll, dark shadows under his eyes so pronounced he had to sleep for a week to get rid of them.

Jihoon presses the code to his home, and the two of us walk into the hallway, closing the door behind us to avoid the cold draught from chilling us to the bone.

“What should we get/” Jihoon toes off his slippers, scrolling absent-minded through his phone, “there’s a shop that delivers samgyetang, and I thought we could get some delivered, since you’ve been coming down with that cold for the past few days.”

“I’d like that,” I shake off my own shoes, sensible boots compared to Jihoon’s slippers, and kiss him again, for no other reason that I can and I will. He smiles against my mouth, “order me a whole chicken, Jihoon-ssi.”

“Two whole chickens,” he amends, “we can have the soup throughout the week. Shower?”

It is an innocuous enough question, but the way Jihoon’s eyes flash makes something shift inside of me, and I find myself returning his little smirk, peeling off the heavy coat, “you know there’s a water shortage.”

“Hmm. Its very bad. We should be conserving all the water we can.”

Jihoon pulls me close to kiss me again, and I laugh, leading him towards the shower.

—

My hometown is a quiet town. Sleepy, with neighbours that know everything about everyone. I used to hate them when I was younger, hated the way they always compared me to my sister, told me I had to be better in order for me to meet my parents’ expectations, as if nothing I did was good enough when compared to her. Nowadays, it’s a welcome distraction; reminding me of the fact that nothing in my town really changes, or will ever change. Not for the better, nor for the worse.

“Oh, are you here for the wedding?” the old man at the fruit shop says, as Jihoon and I walk out of the car, Jihoon yawning behind a closed fist, having slept half the way while I drove, “wait, you’re Yong-Hwa’s sister-in-law!”

“Yes, we’re here for the wedding,” I reply, as Jihoon shakes the falling cherry blossoms out of his hair, “just wanted to pick some fruits to take back to the house.”

That get’s his attention, and he spends an entire half-hour detailing to us every fruit he had at the store, and how good they would taste in season. In the end, we buy a box of strawberries, ones that he assures me are going to ‘taste like heaven’, and Jihoon is taking the driver’s seat for once, and we are speeding towards the house where I have spent my childhood and adolescence.

“Hasn’t been that long since I visited this place.” Jihoon says, turning a corner so that my home is visible, “this feels different somehow.”

“Yes, well, we weren’t together when you visited my mom. And its only a reminder of how much she wants me to visit, and I keep avoiding her requests.”

“But you’re here for the wedding.” He says, and I turn to look at him. Jihoon looks resolute, his mouth set in a line I haven’t seen for a long time, the light casting deep shadows on his face. My eyes move to the smooth gold band on his ring finger, its identical twin gleaming on my hand. He’s nervous, navigating this journey from being my friend to being my intended, meeting the family all over again, essentially.

There are flowers all over the house, bursting into bloom for my sister’s wedding, and I think to myself, this is how it usually is, huh. It’s a surprise that the usual dread that settles into me at the thought of getting married has been replaced with a pleasant anticipation, looking forward to navigating a lifetime with Jihoon.

“You’re here!” my mother shouts as we get down from the car, “they’re here!” she yells to someone inside the house, and soon enough, my father ambles out, looking every bit the disgruntles, emotionless father I had grown up with, looking at his youngest daughter and her partner. My mother envelops me into a crushing hug, but its my father’s gaze that I cannot return, because to this day I cannot live up to the ideal that he had had constructed for me.

My mother doesn’t notice the rings on our fingers, or even if she does, she doesn’t say anything, and we just haul the suitcases up into the house, where Jihoon has the guest bedroom, and I have my old childhood one. Settled in, I leave Jihoon to his devices, answering calls from the company about the new album, and walk down to the kitchen to help my mother with dinner.

“Is everything all right with Jihoon?” she asks, cutting carrots into tiny little pieces, “are you two finally together?”

I say nothing, just pour myself a glass of tea, “didn’t think you’d noticed.”

“Oh, the couple rings were too nice to not notice, actually,” she laughs, “its good. You two suit each other very much.”

“Now you’re saying that to take the piss,” I grumble, “you’ve never once approved of the people I’ve dated, whether I dated them or not.”

“That’s because you dated them to stop your mind from crashing and burning,” my mother says, gentle as ever, putting the ingredients for soup into a big pot, “you’ve always been headstrong that way.”

“As opposed to my sister?”

My mother sighs,  a sign of a battle she’s already lost against herself, “I’m sorry about that.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” I wave my hand. It matters so much. “I was the problem child, I guess. Every family needs one.”

“You were not a problem child,” my mother says, “you were just out of our reach, at times. and when we finally thought we understood you, you ran away and concealed yourself from us.”

“That’s what I was taught.”

“And I should have taught you differently.”

“Never mind, mother,” I give her a quick smile, “you’ll be watching your daughter get married, and in a few years, you’ll be a grandmother, and that will give you enough happiness to tide you over for the next ten years.”

“I think about you too, you know.”

“Congratulations on that, mother.” I reply, walking out of the kitchen.

Jihoon is sitting on the bed when I open the door, hands clutched around a  cup, “I wish we hadn’t come back.”

He raises an eyebrow, “this is your home.”

“I know, its just—there’s no one here that knows me, and even if they do, its only by association, as the sister, and my parents are all on eggshells around me, because I blew up in their faces about my childhood, and how much I hated being here, and its never going to stop, is it, I’m going to be this way, this festering, annoying, difficult, person, and I’ll never really be normal ever again—”

Jihoon wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a hug that’s at once reassuring and scandalous, “you’ll be fine. Your family are, well, they’re sorry, and they’re on eggshells because they don’t know how to approach you anymore. It happens. You can leave to Seoul and have your career, but they’re going to stay on in this town, and be reminded of the fact that maybe they didn’t do enough. Let them hover. It’ll put them at ease.”

“Fine.” I grumble, “I just came back because I love my sister. And Yong-Hwa. He needs to have a chance to run away before he hitches himself to her.”

Jihoon laughs, “would you say the same thing for me?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What?”

He unwraps his arms from around me, fishing in his pocket, “wait, I forgot the ring at home.”

I gape, “you were going to propose to me?”

“Yes, but now that I forgot the ring, there’s going to be no proposal.” Jihoon grumbles, “stupid.”

“That’s fine, it would have been inappropriate for us to take away my sister’s spotlight,” I grin, pulling him back into a hug, “I accept, nonetheless.”

“Really?”

“I do expect a proper proposal back  in Seoul.”

“As you wish, always.”

—

Jihoon proposes with a car full of balloons, and he enlists the help of the other guys to make the proposal truly memorable, a phrase that I’m rapidly beginning to attribute to him. its gorgeous, and everything I had never imagined when it came to a proposal. The wedding, however, is much my style, the two of us traipsing down to the courthouse to submit a form and being declared married by the clerk, who tells us darkly that there’s a divorce counter just in the next room. Jihoon laughs, and I laugh, before walking out of the courthouse to meet our friends (and family) for dinner.

It’s a new life.

—

To LJH,

For being my friend.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

First off I LOVE your writing, I’m so happy you’re taking requests again so, may I please request something with Ghost? Like the reader is part of the 141 and Ghost has a soft spot for her and is very protective of her and both having feelings for each other but not saying anything bc both think the other one deserves better or just something like that🥹😮‍💨💖🙏🏻 feel free to keep practicing smut for this one!👀✨

You’re awesome 🥰💞

Blood Was Its Avatar

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Getting close to you was never his plan, but when he can't stop his self-protective instincts from pushing you away, will he be able to repair your strange friendship? Or will his body have to speak for him? (18+)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, wounds, stitches, death, smut, p in v, throat f-ing, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, implied pain kink, hair pulling, hate sex? but not really?, semi-clothed sex, vulgar language, fluff at the end, etc. just pure filth.

A/N: This is sub-par because I was up until 4 in the morning today and didn't have the energy to edit in-depth lmfao, but enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

All of Ghost’s problems started and ended with you. He was impressed with that fact, actually. 

They call you ‘Masque’ on account of the mission from years back, ‘07 Ghost recalls easily. When you’d been pinned down and surrounded, the dead bodies of your unit all around your feet. You’d chosen to act while the others had been yelling orders over the radio—rooting around the pooling blood on the ground and slathering your face with it; your body. 

You pretended to be dead. 

Quick thinking, Ghost had told you with a glint in his eye when you’d gotten back, those whites of your eyes ten times more noticeable. Like the moon hanging around a crimson-drowned sky. 

You’d cursed him out and said of course it was, quoting some poem from Edgar Allen Poe as a joke.

“Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood.” The Masque of the Red Death. Your claim to survival apparently, as you had just read it a day before.

Ghost said you were bloody fucking crazy and found his eyes darkly watching the way you smirked at him. How the dried blood on your lips would splinter at your loud chuckle as you both entered the C17.

As he knew—all of his problems started and ended with you. Today was no different.

“Damn! Lookin’ good today Ghost, are those new gloves I spy?” You were always so…bubbly. 

“Masque,” the masked-man greats blandly, not even sparing you a look as you enter the meeting room. The screen on the far wall was hooked up to Price’s computer—broadcasting its news out into the dim lighting with images of mayhem and a loop of a video containing the bombing of an embassy building in the Netherlands. 

Profile pictures stain the screen of wanted subjects; captured or killed in the crossfire made no difference here, anyone could see it. 

You drop down into the seat beside his own with a huff, body shed of your usual black gear, and wearing casual fatigues instead—your tags jump on your chest and Ghost sees them glint in the light.

Your face shifts into a smile, prodding with a bump of your elbow. The Lieutenant turns and glares dryly while you carry on, “I asked if you got new gloves; they’re nice.” 

“Needed ‘em.” Ghost drawls, seeing no way out of this as he glances around at the multitude of other free seats. No one else was here yet, and Price had needed to step out for a moment to grab another report from his office one floor up. 

A small grunt echoes from his throat before his eyes dart back to yours. Shifting in his seat, his lax posture tenses before loosening. 

Raising a brow at Ghost, you stifle a laugh.

“That’s it?” He blinks at you slowly, those bright blues trapping you as they shine out from his skeletal visage; his great body hidden under layers of Kevlar and thick canvas cloth. Like some weird and deadly present. You tease him, “No attempt at a conversation, Ghosty? That hurts.”

You sarcastically put a hand to your chest. 

“Then suffer.” Ghost states like he’s reading the newspaper, stretching out one of his wrists by rolling it until it cracks the joints. Where was everyone else? “I’m not fuckin’ talking about bloody gloves, Masque.”

“It’s called a conversation starter!” Under the mask, he raises a dull eyebrow. You glower at him, but the smirk on your lips shows how much you enjoy this.  

“For who? Could have jus’ stayed quiet, then.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes and indulge him—pointedly going silent. Almost immediately an awkward nothingness covers the room with its metaphorical blanket and Ghost’s muscles slowly go stiff as he crosses his arms slowly over his chest. You bite your lip and stamp down a snort. 

A minute spreads like molasses. Two. Three. Five.

“Alright,” Ghost growls, breaking as you pick at your cuticles, humming horribly off-tune to a point where the Lieutenant’s ears were ringing and annoyance faired. “Fucking hell stop it, just say something already to shut up that noise. Sounds like my damn brakes squealin’.” 

You stop and laugh loudly, elbowing him again as he jerks away with a low grunt. Blue flashes, and his heart pounds.

“Jeez, Lieutenant, is my humming that bad for you?” The air rolls with tension.

“More effective than torture.” Ghost utters, his Manchester drawl violent and thick as it coats your ears. You take no offense—you’d been doing it on purpose, anyways; always the one to exploit cracks in the concrete. You'd found out a lot through your studies of the man beside you. Mostly, all of the small tics and unique qualities that made Ghost such a strange character. 

On the battlefield, the large man was resilient and patient. He could wait in one spot for days if he had to, sitting for a perfect shot. Nothing could break the line of purpose and authority he had over the units he was placed in or his fighting spirit. Gunbattles, torture, you name it he’d survived it. 

But he disliked anything below scalding hot tea, detested his objects and packs being messed with…and clenched his hidden jaw at small, repetitive, noises.

Low, horrible, humming, tapping fingers, tongues clicking over and over. You had no idea why, but the sight of making this experienced and handsome man glare at you with annoyance made your face heat up. 

You chuckle in the meeting room, eyes crinkling up at him before you reach for one of the pens and notepads on the table. Clicking the bottom, you shrug and start to scribble nothing into the side margins as blue ink bleeds like foreign blood. 

“What’s Price got for us today, then?” Your voice echoes, “We shipping out with the others or going Black again?” 

The Captain usually paired the two of you up for Black Ops for a reason—Ghost the strategic mastermind to your reckless bloodlust. Push and pull. 

Missions were rarely a failure. 

Ghost sighs, finally getting the sensation of control back into him. “Black,” he begins, “least for us. Old Man’s sending Garrick and Johnny out in hopes of drawin’ a few bastards out first. Netherlands. We slip in the back—off the books, ‘course.” 

He watches you from the side of his eye, gaze following your pen as you sketch out a small stick figure with a skull for a face. Ghost stifles a huff as he scratches at the side of his face.

“Well, of course,” you slyly tease, glancing at him before looking back to your pad. “Are we getting any soldiers?” 

“None. Just us.” 

“Ooo,” Ghost watches your lips curl and feels his body slowly still. “Sounds like fun.”

“It sounds like I’m going to have to babysit again,” you laugh again and dark blue seems to spark with some strange emotion. Ghost clears his throat and takes down a breath.

“Oh, please,” you chuckle, “I’ve saved your hide a few times before, Ghosty, be nice to me.”

“Nice isn’t in the job description, Masque.” 

“Well, it isn’t for you, grumpy. I think Johnny and Gaz are lovely.” Your nose tilts up teasingly as Ghost grumbles like a cat. “But that’s alright, I like you anyways.” Winking, you go back to your pointless scribbling as footsteps echo from the hallway. 

Ghost stares, his hands on the armrests slowly clenching into fists as he studies your expression. His eyes slid over scars and blemishes he’d already looked at a million times over, seeing in his mind’s eye the stains of blood and that every present smile—the burn of your presence beside him like a brand in his stomach. You never seemed to let him get too far away from you on Ops, but it wasn’t some form of obsession. It was worry; he’d seen it. 

You didn’t like it when you couldn’t see his back ahead of yours. Ghost guessed it had to do with your lost unit. He never pressed it. 

In fact, he’d noticed himself not eager to see you off himself. Had spent many a night in the onsite gym after missions because of it, where he’d given you the cold shoulder after. He didn’t like that feeling. That hesitation. 

Ghost knew only to trust people as much as he had to…so why did he like when you said nice things to him? His jaw clenches, shoulders rolling to dispel tension as he rips his eyes away from your body as if you were fire incarnate. Your head perks up at the sound of talking voices getting closer to the meeting room. 

Soap and Gaz enter a few moments later and Price shuffles in behind them. You smile warmly and greet them, shifting the notepad closer to yourself nonchalantly. 

Ghost grunts and stays stationary, straightening up when he realizes he's slightly leaned toward you during your conversation. His new gloves pull taunt over his knuckles and he suddenly wants to rip them off. 

—

You begin to wonder when you’ll be free from blood coating your fingers but know deep down you never will be. At least, not if this was how you’d be getting covered in it.

Sitting inside the hotel bedroom, you slowly extract a blood-coated bullet from Ghost's large thigh, grimacing when he grunts from over you. You’re in between his legs, kneeling, as the metal finally breaks free from the skin barrier—the entry wound is small but nonetheless dangerous. His pants were cut from thigh to knee, a long spit that showed pale, scarred skin. 

Keeping a tight grip on the forceps, you hum under your breath in satisfaction. 

“No bullet fragments—lucky you.” 

Ghost forces out, “Yeah, feelin’ proper lucky.” You chuckle, moving back and dropping the bullet to a food plate you’d put on the floor. Shuffling, you take up the rag placed over your upper arm and bring it back up. Patting the gushing wound, you frown and think back on the events that got you here as the Lieutenant shifts and bites his tongue. 

The intensity in his blue eyes burns into you, lungs deeply inhaling with a silent breath. Your fingers tingle, but you diligently press the fabric to the wound and try to ignore the heat from Ghost’s flesh or how his legs flinch with every trail of your nails. His muscles are pure iron around you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the position you’re in. 

Swallowing stiffly, you sigh and notice him slightly shiver when your breath caresses his upper leg. You stop immediately, lips going tight.

It had been fifteen minutes earlier when Soap and Gaz had set up in a far more open and less secluded hotel three blocks away—directly across from the base location for your gaggle of targets. As planned, you and Ghost would be off the books and go in when they were too distracted by the Sergeants’ in plain sight. 

Fire was supposed to be the cover story. Go in, take care of business, and set the place alight after the area was clear of civilians. But no one was counting on the targets being surrounded by three more friends. 

Of course, guns lead to bullets and bullets to flesh. You can still hear the ringing in your head when Ghost had jerked you to the slide and shoved you behind the far wall—skull snapping back to look in horror as his leg exploded with gore. 

Fucking bastard had been distracted by you and hadn’t had time to dodge. That wasn’t Ghost, but then again, Ghosty wasn’t quite the same, was he? Least, not to you.

“You’re a fool, you know that?” You huff, something swirling in your chest as your gloves peel the layer of cut pants farther down to see better. “You should have looked after yourself.”

“And what?” Ghost grumbles, letting you do what you wanted to him.  “Let you get fuckin’ shot, Masque—you have a bloody death wish?” His last word comes off with a growl as you press tighter into his thigh. 

His hand instantaneously snaps out to grasp the back of your hair tightly with an instinctual low groan. Naturally, a small whine exits your lips in retaliation.

You both freeze and the room jumps up to a hundred degrees; your lower body flips as your skin burns a million degrees. Fingers still, you feel your breath hitch when his calloused fingers scrape your scalp, your hair in his expansive palm. It was a pure reaction you knew, and when you’d asked him to let you help out with this problem you had thought this might happen—he’s a soldier after all, just like you.

But he hadn’t denied you. If anything, since six missions back, you were the only person who he wanted to work on him. He’d never said why. 

You look up at him from the side, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. Ghost’s heart skips beats before he clears his throat, snapping his hand back immediately and slamming it to the mattress. A second of strained silence settles where you both try to forget what the fuck just happened.

“Keep bloody going then,” He says, deep and grating to a point where you shove down a shiver. Your head feels light off of his scent, and you have to ask yourself why you’re feeling so feverish all of a sudden. 

You bite your lip and nod, hand moving away to grab at the sanitized needle and thread with your forceps—dropping the rag back onto your forearm to let it hang. For once in your life you’re left mute by his actions. 

Mute to the fact that you’d liked them. 

Your face burns like a hidden fire; epidermis alight with the strength to rival the flames the two of you had started fifteen minutes ago. Lungs stutter and hands inside the gloves go clammy. It’s only after you were halfway done with the stitches that you mutter words.

“Shouldn’t have taken that bullet, Ghost.” He had been stone still the entire time, hands clenched beside him and his thighs like rocks. Feet firmly planted. It was like he was barely breathing, too. 

Ghost blankly stares, staying quiet as you continue. 

“You were distracted. That never happens.” His form was almost entirely shadowing you; great spanning shoulders from above tight like a looming statue. You dig the needle deeper with a push of the forceps, threading through yielding skin with quick punctures. He doesn’t even flinch. 

Ever since ‘07, there was an obvious aversion to partners stemming from you. You distanced yourself from forming close bonds with those who you hadn’t already known. In many ways, Ghost and the others of One-Four-One were the closest you could get to people now.

Ghost, you admit, was far closer than all the others combined. 

But this sentiment was known—both the aversion and the care you held. The Lieutenant wasn’t good with words, but he knew how to read you better than anyone; the way you carried yourself. He knew you didn’t like it when he got hurt in front of you. 

Ghost had to ask why he even bothered to shove you out of the way, regardless. You would have been fine. So why had his eyes gone wide and his iris flared with a dead glow when he’d seen the gun swivel in your direction? The man grunts at a deep dig from your sutures but you continue to mutter to yourself as he glares at the far wall, venom-like. 

His sin was that he had grown to care about you. His burden and his curse. 

This couldn’t continue. 

Ghost looks down at you with a sheen of distanced nonchalant-ness and when you lent back with a sigh of your lips, his body moved. You blink in surprise as you feel his muscles bunch and before you know it you’re being grabbed harshly by the arms and lightly shoved to the side. 

“Ghost!” You snap, eyes narrowing dangerously as he stands to his feet—blood training down his thigh and kneecap before disappearing back under the stained cargos. “What the fuck?! I’m not done with it.” 

Attempting to stomp closer, he swivels his head to you as his spine goes formal. Your feet stall from under you and your veins pump faster, forceps and slick gloves freezing mid-air. 

You blink. He’d only ever looked at you like that when you’d first met. 

Blue is a silent sheen of ice and cold death; black sockets behind his mask are more like voids holding chilled sapphires. 

Why was he looking at you like he didn’t know you? Once more you say, confused and suddenly small, “Ghost?” 

“Enough.” His voice was monotone and barky, the tone final. Your fingers tense at the sound. What…what was this? “You need to get your head back on, Masque. I can’t watch over you like a bloody Private every time you get stiff-legged, copy?” 

Your jaw slackens. Inside, your heart smashes itself into your ribs in a violent pang. There’s a moment of complete and utter silence in which Ghost remains standing with concrete tied to his feet. He sees the flash of confused hurt in your eyes, the way your muscles jump for a moment.

A suffocating wave of regret strikes him, but he felt like he had to do this—keep up boundaries. Even if his throat was closing in an attempt to make him shut up. 

Ghost’s accent makes him sound harsh and unforgiving. “Price’ll need us back in fifteen. Get your shit together.” 

He bends down and snatches bandages with a quick hand, beelining to the bathroom and closing the door with a firm hand. Blankly, you stare at the barrier as the wall rattles; face burning—unable to speak beyond a small sound in the back of your mouth. 

The two of you stay separated for the remainder of the time, not speaking, and not moving from your respective areas. 

When Ghost finally leaves ten minutes after he’d pushed back the self-loathing and guilt, freshly bandaged, he finds your stuff already gone. He glances around the area slowly, taking in the wails of the fire trucks from blocks away and the neighboring rooms of the hotel as residents speak in mutters from behind walls. The air is cold and lifeless. 

He grabs his things in total silence, swallowing down saliva paired with long breaths. Ghost’s eyes remain tight. Body wound and coated in rigidity that could rival a rhino’s armored plates.

Mind whirling, but still ever mute, he leaves the hotel and heads to the coordinates Price had given the two of you alone. The absence of your warm body beside his was more jarring than anything he’d expected to experience.

Ghost didn’t want to admit how many times his eyes trailed to the empty concrete at his left.

—

When you lose something in someone, you tend to lose it hard. Thus still, that was the case here. Ghost and you always jabbed at each other—it was in your nature to do so—but this was different. The Lieutenant could be cold, but…never to the extent to shove you away from helping him with his wounds. 

Both of you always did that with the other, if that be physically or just being in the same room, while getting fixed up. 

If Ghost didn’t want you around for whatever rage-inducing reason, you weren't going to grovel or beg. The sudden switch-up still stabbed you in the heart though. 

On the second week, it got easier. 

You passed by Ghost without a single comment, shifting into the meeting room once more. He grunts as you shimmy through the door right before him, his feet halting before he runs into you. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Masque, you lost your bloody eyes or something?” You don’t answer, blankly walking to the end of the table and taking the single chair with steady steps; sitting down and dragging a notepad to your general area. 

Blinking, you look up at the projection and skim the small details they give over. 

Ghost stares from the doorway, clenching his jaw. After a moment, he slips inside and slowly strides to the table. 

The days had been difficult for him, struggling to re-situate himself to his isolation after you’d been with him for years. Sure he had Johnny, Gaz, and Price, but you were…

Ghost places a veiny hand on the back of a chair about four down from yours, knuckles white as he’d shed his gloves not five minutes ago. His eyes stay stuck to the tabletop, hips shifting. He hadn’t thought it would be this hard to push you out. Not only physically but mentally. 

He found himself thinking of your face at night. Like a phantom, it would snap into his consciousness when the lights went out and the shadows got long. Your smile and your skin. How your fingers would gently press into his flesh when you were threading a needle through him—shivers of pleasure and pain intertwined by the scrape of your nails. 

Ghost’s hand tightens on the chair, and you spare him a tense glance as he seemingly fights within his mind. 

The Lieutenant wonders at your willpower and your drive. He spent the weeks hating that he had gotten what he wanted, and then he hated himself more because of that fact. It was good to keep you away from him. Not only for himself but for you. 

You both were becoming too….attached. Ghost would have none of it. It had bled over into him using his own body to protect yours that was just…was just…

“...Those new tags, then?” You look away from the screen and shift your gaze to him as his voice bounces. 

Around your neck, the new reflective metal of your new dog tags glint. Your heart skips when he speaks to you, but he still doesn’t look your way.

“That an apology?” Deadpanning, your unimpressed gaze glares into his face as his hand strangles the chair. 

The room returns to strained silence. You huff.

“Pretty shitty one there, asshat.” Ghost’s shoulders roll under his gear, a great sigh quickly exiting him. Everyone had noticed the tension over time—it was becoming a detriment to the team.

The Lieutenant’s blue eyes darken, and in his body, a great heat was beginning to burn. Just looking at you provoked lucid and vulgar thoughts, and as the dim light from the projector makes shadows on your face, Ghost traces them with a chained desire. Being away from you was a physical pain to him, but he also knew that being around you was worse. 

All of Ghost’s problems may have started and ended with you, but they also grew in his own head. They’d been there in the back corners ever since he’d given you your nickname; found out he liked the way your face was wet with spilled blood and sweat. Your body. Your hands on the hard flesh of his upper thigh…trailing up... 

Ghost’s pants get tight as he stares without saying anything. Watching you scribble on your notepad. Glaring. 

“Why can’t I get you out of my fucking head?” Your ears twitch at the low growl as if coming from a beast; seconds later, your brain catches up to process the words. Your pen stops its pointless scrawling just as your breath does. Ghost spits out, seeing your form straighten in the chair, “Every bloody thought, you’re right there!” 

His boots stomp to the floor, and before you know it a hand is trapping the back of your head, fingers carding through hair to angle your chin up. Your breath gasps out as your wide eyes lock on Ghost’s, his hold tight but not uncomfortable; as if he knows the perfect amount of pressure to make your blood surge and your pupils expand.

You stare into volatile blue with silver flecks, a skeletal mask stained from dirt and blood. Ghost’s thumb digs into your scalp. 

“Answer me, Masque,” he grunts, accent so thick you momentarily struggle to string the words together in your stupor. 

Ghost’s nose is close to yours; breathing in each other’s air as the temperature rises. Your throat bobs with a swallow. Below you, you feel your legs clench together as the Lieutenant's fingers lightly pull on your roots when you don’t respond—small sparks of electricity run down your spine that make it straighten instinctually. A soft purr flies from your lips; face on fire as your lashes flutter. Your hands clench at the dull pulse in your lower body.

The Brit’s dead eyes stare down at you, glinting; studying you deeply with growing satisfaction in his heart and tension in his boxers. 

You both glare half-lidded, panting, and flesh heated. 

“Is this your apology?” He tightens his hand and you bite your lip, small whine meeting his ears as he represses a groan at the sound. Your voice was breathy but smug. 

“You fucking wanted this, you naughty little beast,” Ghost growls, moving even closer to tower over you. “You’re playin’ me.” You mold into him as you still sit in your chair, your chin set onto his upper abdomen as the midsection of your breasts presses into his crotch; brushing against his hardened bulge firmly. 

You shiver at the feeling, your core leaking out slippery fluids to stain through your pants one second at a time. Every twitch of his fingers leaves you wanting to arch into him. Feel him.

Ghost feels your hands go to wrap his open thighs, nails digging into the back of his pants as his mouth opens under the mask to force out air. 

“You liked me in between your legs, didn’t you?” Your tiny, teasing, voice serenades him as he quickly begins to lose control of his composure. 

“Shut it,” Ghost grunts, mind yelling at him to move away, “Shut your damn mouth.” 

Those pupils were so wide his eyes were almost entirely black, feral chest moving quickly. 

“I already know why you snapped at me…” One of your hands travels back to the Lieutenant’s front, skin tingling at the scratch of a belt and the rough fabric of his cargos. You leave it over his crotch and add a tight amount of pressure; mouth lightly opening at the weight and size of him as Ghost grunts deeply, thighs jerking forward. 

Blinking at his glassy eyes you breathe out into thick air and the veiled threat of something more. His hand in your hair is so tight that you feel your pulse under the tendrils—you enjoy every second of this cat-and-mouse game. 

After all, no one knew who the mouse was yet.

You rub your hand up and down and watch Ghost’s clothed dick, feeling his muscles straining to keep himself in control. He lets you continue as he watches with a clenched jaw, his pants getting gradually wet with precum; hips twitching. 

“...You can’t get enough of me touching you, can you?” Your statement ignites something immediately, and you’re being grabbed by your shoulders and forced to your feet. 

Staring wildly, you cringe at the soaking patch under your clothes but let Ghost place your backside on the table. He presses into your hips to keep you there—legs opened and feet planted to the floor below on their tip-toes.

The man breathes like a lion, nose in front of yours. You slightly smirk at the far-off haze in his eyes, lust and pleasure blending and bleeding into the almost bruising hold he uses to press you down.

He watches you for a minute or two—taking in your scent and the rabid instinct that infects the both of you now that everything was on the table. 

You knew you were right; he knew you were right. Licking your lips you look down and stare at his blatant hard-on hungrily. Your brow raises slowly.

“You going to let me take care of that, Ghosty?” He’s up and locking the door after he slims it shut.

“This is it,” Ghost grunts, “one time, Masque. That’s fucking it, you hear?” 

“Awe,” You cue, swishing your legs as he stomps back over, hand grasping his belt and whipping it off with a flex of his forearm. Your core tightens, hips trying to press back into the table. “That's so cute. You think once is enough.” 

A hand captures your jaw, “I said,” he breathes, the other hand going to shift up the bottom of his mask up to his nose. You gasp at the sight of blond stubble and milky scars. A strong jaw wound like a spring. Ghost’s musk invades your nose and you feel your palms so clammy. “...Shut it.”

Hard lips slam into yours.

Like some game between the two of you, your mouths fight one another with aggressive grunts stuck in your throats, sharp inhales of air between partings. Ghost’s lips mold and conform to yours, clinging around the supple flesh—there’s a deep-rooted intensity, a hunger, and a desire mixed with sweet stubbornness. The tang of metal and old canvas opens to you just as your mouth does when his teeth bite down at your skin.

Quickly sucking down breaths, you feel his tongue push past layers and slip into your awaiting clutch; Ghost groans lowly and explores as his hands bare down into your hips, one making its way to grip at your hair again. Your own dig into his waist as he leans over you. 

He latches onto your hair and peels you back from him, tongue sliding out of your mouth as he moves to nip at your chin—angling your head whichever way he wants to. Your skin burns as the man bites down at your neck, hot saliva stuck to your lips as your chest pants fast with a low whine at the mixture of pain and bliss. 

Below you, your legs are wide to allow Ghost to stand between you, his firmness leaving your hips canting at every hickey he leaves behind and how he shivers into you as you move against him. It was addicting to him—your taste and how your flesh yields to him as he clamps down on it ruthlessly and rapidly. In no time he’d traveled the length of the area behind your ear and down the swell of your shoulder; shirt pushed back by his nose.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, eyes glassy as you blankly stare into the far wall over the Lieutenant’s shoulder; your panties are soaked through and the evidence can be felt. A long whine exits your chest when Ghost licks at the deep marks he left behind, blown eyes coming back to stare at you head-on as if in a trance.

His lips are red and swollen, mouth open with silent, fast, breaths. His large chest moves quickly over yours. He orders you in a hoarse voice; strained, “Get on your knees.” 

Licking your lips your widened gaze stays locked on his, the hand in your hair tight and keeping you away from slamming your mouth back to his. The air is electric, both of your bodies yielding to one another's even if you don’t realize it. 

As much as you wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at the comment, to make him apologize to you for what he’s done, you realize that your body has already complied with the request. Slipping off the table, Ghost watches like a hawk and backs up two steps—feet splayed as you move for him. Your knees slowly lower you down to the floor, connecting with the carpet as you sag, fists clenched and shaking. 

There’s a small, heart-pounding, pause. “...Good girl.”

Your jaw drops at the smirk on Ghost’s face and those flashing dead eyes of his, blood thumping with a newly ingrained need. You swallow and feel your throat bob; legs shifting to push back the inner-body itch that grows by the second. 

“Now you can listen to me, yeah? Such a slut for it.” Ghost’s hands slowly trail to his pant’s zipper, sliding the piece down the teeth with barely audible metal on metal. Your fingers twitch at every small pop; how the zipper itself had to move forward with the strain of his sizable erection. You can’t even look away from it—how his pants are stiff against tense thighs and the sleeves of his shirt are rucked up to show the black ink of tattoos.

Ghost had tattoos. 

When the teeth had run out and the man’s hands grappled for the waistband of both his cargo and his boxers, you’d found out you’d been staring the entire time, pupils so wide they matched Ghost’s and the black stain of his face-paint. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Masque,” he grunts, knuckles white and going still, “bet your pretty little cunt is soaked and I ‘aven’t even shown you my bloody dick yet, eh? Well, the thing’ll ‘ave to wait, I’m puttin’ that mouth to good use first. Teaching it who to listen to.”

You startle back, blinking away the burning heat on your cheeks that leaves you uncharacteristically stuttering at the vulgar degradation. But Ghost doesn’t notice, doing what he can to move the various straps along his thighs and his upper hips to be able to free himself quickly—eager and dripping to be down your throat. 

The throat and mouth he’d fantasized about for ages. 

Stiffing down a whiny moan, you finally see the veiny girth of Ghost’s cock as it comes free over the top of the tight white cotton of his boxers; a happy trail extending up his visible abdomen when his wrist snatches it out. 

“Put to good use?” You breathe out, “Christ, you’re going to make me fucking mute, Ghosty.” 

“Well, Sweetheart,” he breathes a sigh of relief as he plays with the leaking tip with his thumb. Your hands itch to brush against your achy clit, the pressure in your chest almost enough to make you sob at the sheer nothingness. Sweat glistens over your forehead. Eyes glare at you as you watch thighs tense and loosen. “That’ll be fine by me. Don’t need you speaking when I’m paintin’ your damn cunt with my cum, do I?” 

Jesus, you both were in the fucking meeting room. Going to fuck in the meeting room. 

You lick your lips and stare as Ghost stalks close again, gripping your chin and opening your jaw with his thumb and first finger. His dick was right in front of you, and you can smell sex and sweat like an animalistic aphrodisiac as it coats your brain with lust as you moan out. 

Your arms tense with a want to reach and touch it, watch as Ghost falls apart below the twist of your wrist. It was so addictive you feel yourself clench at the visual, your body shivering violently. 

“Oi, fucking focus.” Your tongue sneaks out and licks Ghost’s finger and he feels his grip tighten on you with a puff of hot air. “Little brat.” 

He stares into your mouth and breathes deeply as a smirk peels the edges of your lip. Blue swirls with anticipation. 

“Keep it open, then.” Ghost’s hand drops from you and you easily keep your mouth open as his hand goes back to his cock, grasping it firmly as the other finds the top of your head. You shiver and shift your thighs under you, your body striking like a drum to oxycontin and adrenaline. “That’s a girl…” The Lieutenant growls, and the tip of his dick slips into your saliva-dripping mouth with hidden fever. “Fuck.” 

Your eyes flutter at the taste, letting him maneuver your face closer to the base as your hands snap to his thighs—nails digging in and eliciting a sharp inhale as you press into the two-week-old wound under his pants. Ghost curses under his breath but watches in flooding pleasure at the image of his cock disappearing farther and farther into you. Inch by inch you tell yourself to breathe through your nose; feeling the make of his veins and the mushroomed tip traveling farther and farther back. 

Moaning in the base of your neck, Ghost instinctually jerks his hips at the sound, feral grunts trapped in his chest. Your eyes go wide with the prickle of tears, not from pain but from the surprise as you gag. His hold on your hair tightens and you mewl as he continues to lose himself to the feeling of your wet heat. 

He was so big it was like your throat was ripping new sinews just for him, and you reveled in every moment of the feeling of his predatory gaze.

“So bloody tight for me—can’t wait to be in that cunt of yours…can’t be better than this. Have to test it.” He talks more when he’s horney. 

Slightly gagging again at the sheer size, his palming hand presses you deeper and you take him as well as you’re able, still space between your nose and his pelvis as your knees dig harder into the ground. Ghost groans gutturally, head slightly lulling back and panting like a dog, looking down at your red eyes and far-off gaze. Your hands kneed his upper thighs and he smirks slowly. 

Without another word and with sweat staining him under his uniform, bits and bobs from his gear start to clink together and dance as his hips set a rough pace; you find your head being puppeteered back and forth with his thrusts as your scalp flames from his hold. Tears burn immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it—such a good little slut for me, Masque. Gettin’ it down, fuck,” Ghost pants, as you hollow your cheeks, back arching into you and leaving your nostrils flaring to take down air for your spasming lungs. The sight above you was sinful. 

Your Lieutenant in full gear, pants and skin-tight boxers stretching and shoved down just under the clutch of his crotch. With every back-and-forth motion, the zipper grazes the underside of your engorged throat as every vein can be undoubtedly seared into your esophagus like a brand. 

Ghost’s eyes flutter and flinch, but never once does his hazy gaze leave your mouth as he continues to jerk your head back and forth. Saliva drips drown your chin and the nearly painful burn in your navel lets you know how true this was a relief not only for Ghost but for you as well. You wanted to touch yourself, but you can’t stop touching the Brit—not for a second. Shit, you think you could fall apart just by looking at this; you were sure Ghost was thinking the same thing. 

“Look at that, makin’ such a fucking mess of you.” His abdomen tightens and rolls with every jerk and rut, and your eyes roll back with a deep whine in the back of your throat when he hits the back of your throat. Sweat splatters down your temple as the air is steeped with animalistic desperation. Ghost whines thickly in answer and seems to speed up as your hands claw at his thighs. “You like that, pet? Huh? Being my little cock-sleeve.” 

Your nails dig deeper into his flesh and he shivers wildly; eyes flash at the sight of himself disappearing into you and exiting just after as the slap of wet skin reverberates. The tension in his chest increases and he starts to desperately kneed at your hair. 

“If I’d known you’d take it down like this, I’d-I’d have made you hate me sooner, yeah?” Tension fizzles up his jaw and you know he’s close by how he bites down into his lip and tilts his head back. 

Instinctual tears travel down your sweat-slick face, the thought of being used like this vulgar and as dirty as the sounds that echo in your throat and strike down your spine. 

“Fucking hell,” Ghost gasps, and his pace stutters as he twists your locks. Your teeth graze along his flesh as you dig your thumb into his wound to steady yourself. Whining loudly, the action seems to get to the man using your mouth for his pleasure, as not three rough thrusts later the warm feeling of his cum splatters the back of your throat in thick, hot, spurts. 

Choking for a moment, the widening of your eyes meets Ghost’s fluttering lashes from above. His free hand goes behind you to slam onto the tabletop; back curved over you as he shakes and sputters as he rides out his high. 

Cum drips out of the seams of your stretched lips, and with a deep breath through your nose, your hand lowers from Ghost’s thighs as you carefully pull your face back from his pelvis. The sensation of his cock leaving your mouth and bringing saliva and his fluids with it was animalistic at best, they spill to the floor and off of your chin like a small river. 

Licking your lips, you swallow what you can and try to catch your breath as your chest rages. Blinking rapidly, your eye twitches as you bring a hand up to your sore and ragged throat, Ghost’s heaving body stiff and hunched as he stares at the table blankly. Sweat dribbles down the side of his nose, sneaking out from under the top side of his mask. 

There’s a long minute of nothingness as you both try to breathe and understand the gravity of what you’ve both done. And then you both lock eyes and stare. 

The air stills over as Ghost’s large pupils stare at the mess on your face—seeing it drip down your throat as you tilt your chin up to him. His chest purrs like a cat and you don’t even think he realizes that he does it. 

Two seconds later you’re being manhandled up to the top of the table, backside hitting it as a hand goes to your belt. Lips connect with yours and groan at the taste, the clinking of metal hitting your ears as you submit to his prodding tongue as it licks along your inner flesh. 

Your fingers snap to trail around Ghost’s neck, moaning into him as he slips his hands into your pants, pulling back and ordering, “Up.” Eager and filled with lust, you raise your legs and he rips them down to your knees, dragging you closer to the edge. 

“Good girl.” He smirks, black-smeared eyes creased. If you could speak you’d tell him to shut up and fuck you already. 

Your slick skin meets the air and you gasp, Ghost’s hands waste no time trailing up the flesh of your hips, pitching to make you jump. Glaring, you try to drag him back into you but he’s built like stone, clicking his tongue. When his fingers collect the fluids that drip out of you, you whimper at the stimulation—two calloused fingers getting entranced by that as they stop at your clit. You stare desperately into amused blue eyes as he pressed deep, your thighs tensing as they jerk. 

“Any more of this and you’ll stain the table, won’t you, Sweetheart? I get you this worked up, yeah? Bloody hell.” You pant, and lines form on your forehead at the indecent circling of his fingers; not being gentle as he sees your mouth open and your lungs gasp. Sharp spikes form in your thighs, and they move in tandem with Ghost. “Look at that…” 

Deep chuckles mock you, but you both know this has to be fast—and with how worked up you were, it would be. 

“Alright, then, brat,” Ghost takes his hand away and you whimper before he grunts and grips you by the shoulders. Your lust turns to confusion. “Suppose you did well. Let’s make this quick, eh? Got work to do.” 

Flipped around, you squeak as your clothed chest meets the table, ass presented as your feet scramble to connect with the floor. Surprised, you whip your head to the side to stare back at a highly smug Ghost as one of his hands goes to grab onto your supple flesh, massaging it before it sneaks to your hip. 

“Easy with it, I’ll take care of you, Masque.” In little to no time he’s lining himself up with your dripping pussy, so wet it’s easy except for the fact that he’s huge enough to make you mute by a blowjob. Your back arches into the table with a long moan as the length slowly spears you open, instinctually widening your legs as best as you’re able. 

Closing your eyes, you press one of your hands to your mouth to stifle your noises, thighs spasming as Ghost curses under his breath; gear clinking into each other.

“So bloody tight.” With a swift thrust and a knock of your pelvis to the edge of the table, your eyes burn with the feeling of holding Ghost in your most intimate area and the knowledge that he would completely wreck it for anyone else. Your lungs fight for air, but a long mewl exits your fingers as the man shakes over you with restraint. “Christ.”

Tight wasn’t the way to describe it—you were like a fucking noose. Your sensitive walls know every vein and bulge, the scrape and dig, far more intimately than your throat ever could. Like a carved stamp, they’re reforming to Ghost’s dick every second. 

Tapping the side of your forehead to the table, the man can’t help himself anymore and starts to thrust into you; feral squelching and fluids staining the top of his pants. Your face burns, the rocking of the table hypnotic as your toes fight to stay on the ground. The sensation of being so full truthfully made your mind go blank, fingers twitching as Ghost continued to palm at your hip—his other hand going to press into your spine, keeping you stapled to the table. 

His gear slammed and rubbed into your ass, bruising it no doubt, but you found you didn’t care at all. Pleasure rocked down with every ruthless intrusion. 

“Can feel ya ‘round my cock,” you keen at the words, tears dribbling down the side of your face as you try to hold back sobs of pleasure. Ghost increases his pace, rabid slapping echoing off the walls as he feels his sole focus on your mind-shattering bliss. “Can’t have ‘em hear how loud you are, now, can we? Can’t let ‘em know I’m shagging you in their meeting room like a little fucktoy, eh?” 

He angles his hips higher, pushing your farther up the table as his hands only drag you back. Every moment leaves your core tightening even more; molten heat pooling as the edge gets closer. 

Footsteps echo down the hall outside, but both of you are too focused on the other and the ache that only increases like a pair of cuffs. Your mouth lets loose insistent gasps and moans while Ghost breathily groans at every other interval of his ravaging cock as it brushes your cervix. 

You whine loudly, spine arching and legs desperately trying to close. Ghost chuckles and your reaction spurs him on—hitting that same spot over and over again as you sob. 

“Right there, yeah? That it, Masque?” You nod rapidly, and the Lieutenant's grip tightens with a loud grunt, “Fuck, that’s it, bloody slut.” 

The coil in your gut gets tighter, shining with desperate shakes of your body and the numb way you try to meet Ghost’s thrusts before you entirely lose the plot of reality. 

“You’re close,” he breathes, feeling your pussy trying to keep him in, slick trailing down the insides of your thighs and transferring to the Brit’s clothes. His boxers were soaked. “C’mon, then. Don’t disappoint me, Masque. Lemme see you cum on my cock before I fill you up like the good girl you are, yeah?”

Your body spasms, thighs tensing and toes curling at the floor; fingers scratching down the table as you press over your mouth harder in a last-ditch effort to remain in control of yourself. The coil snaps and suddenly you’re digging your forehead into the wood below you, orgasm ripping through you like a knife as cum paints Ghost’s dick as he continues his relentless chase of his second release.

“There it is, fuck, look at all that, Love. Paintin’ me like a naughty fuckin’ portrait.” Ghost gasps, a hand coming up to connect to the table by your head, feeling you completely flood his pelvis—he doesn’t stop even when you whine in overstimulation, fucked-out eyes wide and mouth dripping drool into a small pool. The milky ring at his root grows and grows. With a loud moan, he looks down and watches the vulgar sight rabidly, pounding into your heat as his own end gets closer and closer. 

“Shite,” His forehead hits your spine, taking the skin into his teeth and biting hickeys as his open mouth leaves trails of saliva. “Took me so bloody well, cunt was made just for me.” 

His body shakes and with one last shove from his hips, he spills into you with a loud whimper muffled into your flesh. Teeth biting down so hard that you moan in turn, the spent releases dribble out of you like a stuffed bird. You feel his chest atop you as he places his weight slowly down; the fast-panting mirroring your own. 

Sweat connects the two of you as it bleeds through your clothes, the smell in the air and the scent of delirious sex staining your bodies. 

Your mouth remains open and hoarse, scraped dry. Ghost above you moves delicately as he pulls back up, moving back to peel your messy hair away from your blown eyes. After a moment his small voice hits you—the accent deep. 

“All good?” Your eyes slowly rove to him as he kisses your forehead, shivering violently as he slips out of you; the wet drip of cum hits the carpet in the still silence as you whimper at the feeling. “...Masque?”

Dull concern emanates from his tone and you blink back. You clear your throat and utter in a torn voice, “...P-pretty good apology, Ghosty…S…shit.” 

Smugness burns in his orbs, but the roll of his eyes hides it quickly. The puff of his chest couldn’t be hidden from you, though. 

His hands reach down and hike up your panties and cargos—both items completely wrecked. The large splotch on Ghost’s own clothes showed you that you weren't alone in that aspect. 

As he carefully flips your limp form back over and pulls you up by your arms, you groan in annoyance but shut up when his hands go to zip your zipper and clip back your belt. 

“Couldn’t have had a revelation in your barracks room?” You huff, itching at your throat. “You’re buying me cough drops, you ass.” The state of your voice was laughable. Anyone would know what happened if they spoke to you. 

Ghost sighs and begins with his own clothes, stuffing himself back into his boxers and growling at the chilled fluids on his pants as he pulls them back up. He goes and retrieves his belt before walking back. 

“Acting like you weren’t beggin’ for it.” He slides you a smirk before he grabs onto his mask and begins to cover his jaw. 

Your hand snaps out and stops him. Ghost startles, eyes flashing before his muscles stiffen. You raise a brow and he slightly calms. 

Scoffing, you lean in and place a final kiss on his lips—a tinier and tender kiss. Gaze wide, the man stares off as his heart starts to beat fast again at the firm press. After you’re done your hand goes up and grasps the fabric yourself, carefully re-shrouding the mystery of a man with a smile. 

He watches blankly.

“We okay?” You ask, tilting your head as your lower body aches when you shift on the table. “I miss my annoyingly gruff Ghost. This new one’s a jerk.” A small laugh graces your ears, and it makes you beam. “I know why you did it,” you admit, and hold out a hand between your bodies. “But pushing me away will only hurt the both of us. Let's try this, Ghost. Please.” 

“...You’re makin’ it seem like a good deal, Love…is it?” He holds out a hand of his own, large and scarred hands that had gripped you so tight before utterly loose and awaiting. 

“No clue,” you admit with a smirk, “Wanna figure it out?” Ghost watches as he always does and always will, searching into your eyes for any hint of hesitance or denial. 

“Always liked a challenge.” He grunts and encompasses his hand with yours. You squeeze it and nod, chest light as your normal breath comes back.

“You know what a real challenge is? Trying to take down your fucking dic—” The meeting room handle jiggles and you both snap into action. 

Ghost tosses you your notepad and you slide a shoved-away chair his way on shaky legs, slipping into a free seat with failing knees. You both sit side by side on the opposite side of the table, shoulders bumping and faces hot not three seconds later. Ears twitch at the sound of a key entering the slot. 

You try to act normal and begin messing around with your notepad, stealing a pen from Ghost’s gear as Price opens the door. At the sight of the two of you, he pauses and stands in the doorway.

“Ghost…Masque.” With a squint, Price looks around the room slowly, confused at the rod-straight spine from his Lieutenant and the way you awkwardly scribble nothing onto your pad. 

“Price,” Ghost utters as you look up and fake smile, waving as you tighten your hips under the table in an attempt to hide the evidence spilling out of you. 

The Captain continues to stare, scrutiny in his eyes, for at least a full minute. 

“Problem, then?” The Lieutenant asks. Price’s lips thin and he gains a sheen of deep annoyance. You groan under your breath and knock your head to the table at the next comment.

“In the fucking meeting room?!”

TAGS:

@emerald-valkyrie , @anna-banana27 , @blueoorchid , @cryingnotcrying , @writeforfandoms , @homicidal-slvt , @jade-jax , @frazie99 , @elmoees , @littlemisstrouble , @alpineswinter , @phoenixhalliwell , @idocarealot , @lavalleon , @facelessmemories , @h-leigh, @20forty9 , @glitter-anon-asks , @emily-who-killed-a-man , @neelehksttr, @aeneanc , @escapefromrealitysm , @i-d-1-0-t , @pparcxysm , @hawkscanendme , @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney , @sanfransolomitatm , @maelstrom007 , @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet , @pheobees , @glitterypirateduck , @uselsshuman , @fan-of-encouragement , @halfmoth-halfman , @ghostlythunderbird , @I-inkage, @pukbadger , @kopatych11 , @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop , @knightofsexyness , @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons , @330bpm-whiplash , @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu , @tiredmetalenthusiast

[lahbarsaglini]

haven’t shot your heart yet

pairing: matt sturniolo x oc!youtuber

summary: in a world curated for the screen, matt and kylie stumble into something real. their first encounter was something passed off as chemistry for the cameras. but there’s this new feeling going on, quieter, deeper—an off-script connection in an online world that rarely pauses for breath. this is how everything started.

notes: first one, don't really now how writing or editing here works, but i swear i'm trying my best. this turn out to be bigger than what i expected. slow burn, getting to know each other type of thing. maybe i'll end up doing a series for this plot, don't know. oh, idk how big the pictures turn out to be. i'm nervous af.

wc: 2.7k maybe?

It wasn’t supposed to be a date. Not officially, at least. 

Kylie Rose had 3.5 million subscribers on her channel now, more than when they first met. 

She was finally back in Boston after a weekend at her hometown. She had this quick modeling job with AllSaints that required her attention, a shoot drenched in dark layers and sharp eyeliner — her kind of thing.

He saw her Instagram Story, a blurry shot of the Boston skyline at dusk with the caption: “back in the city. hi again”. That was enough. He paused on it longer than he should have. 

Matt didn’t rush. He didn’t double-tap. He just thought — about how funny she was when they met each other on Cut The Camera, how sharp and honest she’d been in her answers, and how she never once tried to impress anyone. She just was. So he DMed her. 

“saw you’re in Boston. we can hang out if you have time, just us.”

That was something he almost regretted texting. No “me and my brothers”. Just us. No group thing. He second-guessed because maybe she wouldn’t be down to. But he just shook it off and tried not to think too much about it, occupying his mind with something else. 

See, tried is the key word. Because something shifted when they met.

When Kylie walked into the studio for the episode, Matt felt it in his chest first, a weird mix of calm and chaos. She had this quiet confidence. Like she knew herself and didn’t need anyone else to verify that. 

During filming, she’d answered a question about vulnerability, saying: “I’m not afraid to be real. If you’ve seen what I’ve been through, you’d know that pretending is way more exhausting.” 

Matt looked at her then — really looked. Not the public figure, not the curated YouTuber. Just her. 

It stuck with him. He noticed the way she would play with a specific ring on her finger, turning it around every now and then. Combined with the look on her face, it seemed like she was getting ready to fight someone. But if you blinked, maybe it was just a grounding technique. He noticed how she didn’t put her loose strands of hair behind her ear in a discreet way, but instead, switched her posture while placing the entirety of her hand on top of her head, fingers going in between her roots, pushing her hair out of the way and sliding it down. Like an effortless bold statement. 

After the podcast ended, he and his brothers went home talking about how easy she was to talk to, even when the subjects were not. He took a very quick minute to visualize her in front of his eyes when the traffic stopped because of a red light. 

It wasn’t about attraction alone — although, yeah, she was gorgeous. He didn’t really believe in love at first sight.

It was interest. Curiosity. That pull toward someone who feels like a mirror you didn’t know existed. 

So when he saw she was in Boston, 7 months later, he didn’t want to lose the chance. He’d been so busy in LA, going back home was a relief. And she was there as well. He wanted to meet her off-camera. Without edits. Without Nick and Chris. Just them. He felt like there was more to know.

Kylie accepted Matt’s invitation for one simple reason: she wanted to. No overthinking, no asking for anyone’s permission. No making a pro/con list like she normally would. When she saw the message, she read it twice, and then smiled. Because even though their first interaction on Cut The Camera was short, it stayed with her. 

Matt had really listened to her. He didn’t interrupt, he didn’t talk over her. Not that Chris or Nick had been disrespectful, but Matt really made space for her voice. 

Of course she caught the way he glanced at her sometimes, or whenever she said something gallant — not judgemental, not surprised, just… Intrigued. And his laugh? It wasn’t loud, it was real, honest. 

On the other hand, Kylie’s life was loud. Cameras, opinions, clickbait. 

But Matt? Matt was quiet intention. 

He wasn’t asking for a post or a collab. He wasn’t looking for clout. He just wanted to see her. That was kinda rare. Plus, she’d caught herself wondering what he was like without the other two, no triplet dynamic or shared punchlines. Just Matt. So when he reached out, her answer came naturally: 

“i’m down. you better like milkshakes.”

And that was it. She didn’t know what it would be, didn’t even expect anything big. She would go for a milkshake and hang out with someone she knew because of work. For her, it was about letting herself say yes without armor. 

And maybe — just maybe — because she wanted to know him too. 

“i can pick you up, if you want. i just thought i’d offer”. 

Kylie stared at it, amused. She could easily drive. I mean, she had her car with her right there, parked outside her place. It was really no problem. But something about the offer made her pause. 

It’s old school. Gentle. Hinting that he actually wants to spend time with her, not just meet up. So she typed back:

“bold of you to assume i trust anyone’s driving but my own 😎

but okay, come pick me up

let’s risk it.”

He showed up ten minutes early. 

Not that he told her that, of course. He waited outside, leaning against his car trying not to look like his mind had been pacing inside the vehicle. He stared at the floor, holding back a smile because of the situation back at his parents place.

“Why does Matt look like he's walking into a GQ shoot when we’re just ordering fucking pizza?” Nick even dropped down his phone when he saw his brother. “I’m going out for a bit,” he replied, grabbing the car keys.

When Kylie walked out in a dark denim jacket, boots, and her pretty dark hair pulled into a ponytail, he goes:

"Wow, you look like you're about to kill someone," he'd meant it as a compliment.

Her response, however, was pure Kylie—quick and witty. “Really? I haven’t shot your heart just yet.”

Matt's breath hitched, just for a second. Kylie's retort, delivered with that effortless, bold grin, landed oh, so precisely. He tried to play it cool, a casual shrug, a slight tilt of his head. But inside, a small, involuntary part of him was doing a backflip. 

He remembered her playing around with Nick, tossing out a pick-up line during the podcast. It had been funny then, a casual, performative flirtation. But this? This felt different. More direct. More... pointedly at him.

Matt forced a light laugh, trying to keep his composure. "Well, let's hope my heart survives this then," he quipped back, hoping his voice didn't betray the sudden flutter in his chest. He shoved his hands into his pockets, a subtle movement to ground himself. He told himself it was just Kylie being Kylie, just her natural charisma. But as she walked closer, the scent of something alluring, like vanilla, maybe something floral reaching him, he found himself thinking about that "just us" text again. And suddenly, the idea of hanging out with her felt a lot more significant than he'd anticipated.

Matt’s car pulled away from her street, the hum of the engine a low counterpoint to the quiet anticipation between them. "How was the photoshoot, by the way? I saw the behind the scenes that you posted yesterday" he asked, glancing at her. "AllSaints, right? Sounds intense."

Kylie leaned back, her hand resting on the window sill. "Yeah, it was... my kind of intense," she chuckled. "Very moody, you know? Felt less like modeling and more like acting out a vibe. The creative director was cool. We shot mostly around Beacon Hill and a few old brick alleys. Felt very 'Kylie Rose' before I even showed up." She paused, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's funny, sometimes I think I accidentally built a brand that just fits me, instead of the other way around."

Matt nodded, his eyes on the road. "I get that. Sometimes it feels like the content just... becomes who you are." He made a turn, heading towards the narrow, bustling streets of the North End. "Speaking of brands, I scouted a place. Hope it's moody enough for you."

They found a parking spot a few blocks away and walked, the afternoon air carrying the scent of Italian pastries and old brick. The café was called Thinking Cup on Hanover Street, precisely the kind of place Kylie imagined. Vintage wooden chairs and small, mismatched tables were bathed in the warm glow of Edison bulbs, while soft, jazzy lo-fi music drifted from unseen speakers. It was cozy, unpretentious, and immediately inviting.

"Perfect," Kylie murmured, taking in the vibe.

They approached the counter, the menu board looming above them. Kylie scanned it, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Milkshake, please," she said, her voice clear. "Strawberry."

Matt blinked. He'd half-expected her to go for something complex and dark, like a double chocolate mocha or a salted caramel concoction – something that matched the depth of her online persona. But strawberry milkshake? It was simple, sweet, almost... innocent. He found himself smiling.

"You know," she commented, turning to him after placing her order, "Do people even drink coffee anymore?"

"Only people trying to prove something," Matt deadpanned, and they both laughed, the sound easy and genuine in the low hum of the café. "I'll take a vanilla milkshake, please," he told the barista, leaning in slightly. "I don’t drink coffee.”

“You kidding,” she turns, her ponytail spinning around in a dramatic way. “I hate coffee.”

They grabbed their frosty glasses, condensation already beading on the sides, and found a small table by the window. The clinking of ceramic mugs and hushed conversations formed a comfortable backdrop. Kylie took a long sip of her vibrant pink drink, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips. "This is exactly what I needed."

Matt watched her, the simple pleasure on her face a stark contrast to the complexities he often perceived in her videos. They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, letting the warmth of the café and the soft hum of conversation wrap around them like a blanket. Kylie leaned back in her chair, eyes scanning the view outside the window—graffiti-tagged walls, narrow alleyways, and weathered brick buildings soaked in late afternoon light while he asked her about how it was moving to Boston, her favorite places and all that jazz.

...grit,” she finished, swirling her straw lazily in her milkshake. “Like, it’s rough around the edges, but in a way that feels earned. Like a city with good stories.”

Matt nodded slowly, elbow resting on the table as he watched her. “That’s how you describe cities?” he asked, amused. “With character assessments?”

Kylie raised an eyebrow and leaned in slightly. “Would you rather I described it by square mileage and architectural stats?”

“No, I like your version better,” he admitted, chuckling. “Makes me wonder what you’d say about people.”

She paused, that familiar glint sparking behind her eyes again. “Well, you, for example,” she began, tracing a finger along the rim of her glass. “I think you’re like one of those old radios, you know? Quiet until someone tunes in just right. And when they do… there’s music. Unexpected, layered, kind of addictive. But not everyone takes the time to listen properly.”

Matt blinked, a little thrown off. “That’s… oddly poetic.”

“Poetic is my second language,” Kylie quipped with a small shrug, though there was something soft behind her tone, like she wasn’t just joking. She tilted her head. “What about me?”

He glanced down at his drink, swirling the melted rim with his straw as he considered. Then: “You’re like a fire alarm with lipstick on.”

Kylie snorted. “Wow.”

“Wait, hear me out,” he said, laughing along with her. “You’re bold. Sharp. You say what people don’t want to hear, even if it makes them flinch. But you’re also… deliberate. You know how you affect a room, and you don’t waste that.”

She looked at him for a moment longer than necessary. Not with amusement, but with intrigue. Maybe even appreciation. “Okay, that was good. I’ll allow it.”

They sat in a silence that wasn’t awkward, just full —the kind that held weight because both were thinking the same thing but neither wanted to break it too fast. Outside, people passed by the window, some rushing, some strolling. The city moved on without them, but neither of them seemed in any hurry to rejoin it.

“Hey,” Matt said suddenly, “can I ask something kinda random?”

“Always,” Kylie replied, sipping again.

“Do you ever just… wish you could shut it all off? Like, all of it. The comments, the posts, the numbers. Just go somewhere where no one knows your name?”

She leaned back, milkshake halfway to her lips. Her expression shifted. Not darker, but more grounded. Real.

“All the time,” she said quietly. “But then I remember... if no one knows my name, maybe I forget it too.”

Matt’s gaze didn’t leave her. “So what do you do instead?”

She gave a small, lopsided smile. “I try to find people who don’t care about the numbers. Who see me anyway. But try is exaggerating a bit. I don’t really chase people.”

Matt’s chest tightened just slightly. “I think that’s a pretty fair plan.”

Kylie looked down at her almost-empty glass and then back at him. “Good. ’Cause I think I just found one.”

Neither said anything after that. They didn’t have to. The milkshakes were almost gone. But the silence between them? Still sweet. Matt was the one who interrupted that break.

"So, what's next on the Boston agenda for you? Any more shoots, or are you free for a bit?" Matt asked, trying to sound casual, but hoping she was free.

Kylie smirked. "Nope, all done. Just chilling until tomorrow. Then I gotta start thinking about work again. Why, you got something in mind?"

Matt's smile widened. "Maybe. How about we just... drive?”

Kylie's eyes lit up. "Deal. But I'm DJ."

Minutes later, they were back in Matt's car, the windows cracked just enough to let the cool evening air flow in. 

Matt, a creature of habit when it came to his music, found himself surprised to hand over the aux cord without a second thought. Kylie, seizing the moment, queued up a mix that perfectly encapsulated her own eclectic taste: the raw energy of Arctic Monkeys flowed into the dreamy, lo-fi vibes of Hotel Ugly, before abruptly shifting to that one Doja Cat remix she remembered and swore "goes stupid in the car”.

He stole a few looks at her as she sang along, completely unfiltered. Her voice was pretty and free. She wasn't trying to impress him; she was just being. He liked that. More than liked it, he felt a pull towards that unapologetic authenticity.

The city lights eventually thinned, giving way to quieter, tree-lined streets. Matt navigated instinctively, pulling into what looked like a hidden entrance to a local park, like the kind only residents knew about, almost empty at this hour. The dusk was deepening into twilight, casting long, soft shadows across the open spaces. She read “Danehy Park”.

Kylie hopped out first, her boots hitting the gravel with a soft crunch.

"We're walking?" he asked, a hint of playful disbelief in his voice. He didn’t think she would like nature. 

"We're existing," she corrected, already moving towards a path that wound into the trees. "Just come on."

They walked, not rushing, just letting the conversation flow. The topics drifted far beyond the usual first-date pleasantries. They talked about childhood memories, the raw, unedited moments that shaped them. They spoke about what truly scared them, the anxieties and quiet fears that YouTube rarely saw. They even touched on who they were before the cameras, before the subscriber counts and the public gaze.

Matt found himself telling her about his favorite place to think, where the world felt vast and his problems small. Kylie, in turn, shared a more tender, poignant memory: the exact day she realized her childhood ended too early, a quiet admission that hung in the air, heavy with unspoken understanding. Matt didn't pry; he just listened, truly listened, the same way he did on the podcast.

Then, tucked away amidst some older trees, they stumbled upon it: a small, forgotten playground. Swings hung still, slides gleamed faintly in the dim light, and a merry-go-round sat patiently.

Kylie's eyes lit up, a spark of childlike mischief igniting within her. "Race you to the swings?" she challenged, already taking a step back, ready to sprint.

Matt laughed, a genuine, unrestrained sound. "That's not fair. You're in boots!"

"Exactly," she shot back, already halfway to a running start. "I'll still win."

And she did.

While he pushed himself on the swing, Kylie sat sideways so that she could see him. 

“Come on, Matt! You can do better than that, go higher!”

Matt laughed, a genuine, unburdened sound. She went behind him to give him a push and then stood in front of him from a safe distance. Looking at her, a profound sense of ease settled in. "You're something, you know that?" he said, the words coming out unbidden.

Kylie's smile softened, turning reflective. "Only when I let myself be," she replied, her gaze meeting him across the now small distance between his swing and her. "It's… quieter here. With you."

"Yeah," Matt agreed, the word barely a whisper. "It is." He felt it too. A rare peace, a sense of belonging that was both unexpected and deeply comforting. It wasn't about the cameras. In the quiet of the park, under the fading light, it was just them. The air between them hummed with an unspoken understanding, a gentle current of connection.

Eventually, Kylie’s laughter died down, replaced by a soft sigh. "Okay, Cinderella, playtime's over," she said, her voice tinged with a familiar, reluctant resignation. "I really should head back home."

Matt's heart sank a little at the mention of her leaving, but he nodded. "Right, reality calls."

They walked towards the edge of the playground, the silence comfortable between them. Just as they were about to leave, Kylie spotted the slide. With a sudden burst of energy, she climbed the short steps. "Wait, one more for the road," she announced, and instead of sliding down forward, she sat, faced the sky, and pushed off to slide backwards.

"Kylie, don't—" Matt started, but it was too late. Her boots caught on the edge, and she wobbled precariously as she reached the bottom. With a small yelp, she almost toppled over. In an instant, Matt was there. His hand shot out, catching her arm just as she lost her balance at the end of the freaking slide. 

“Are you good?” he asked, kinda preoccupied, but she was too busy laughing her ass off to answer the question. Her head was thrown back, a bright, uninhibited sound bubbling out of her that echoed through the quiet park. He couldn't help but crack a smile, then a full-blown laugh himself, caught by the sheer absurdity and her contagious joy.

"I'm okay, it’s okay!" she finally gasped between giggles, pushing herself upright with his help. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes, sparkling with mirth, met his. She straightened her denim jacket, adjusting her hair.

“Really? I just had to save you from yourself,” Matt retorted, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he released her arm.

Kylie rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Thanks, hero. My pride is slightly bruised.”

They ambled back to his car, the previous comfortable silence now replaced by a lighter, more animated hum. The near-tumble on the slide, instead of being an awkward moment, had simply become another shared laugh, solidifying the easy camaraderie that had blossomed between them.

Once they were settled back in the car, the engine a soft purr, Matt took control of the music. "Alright, since you nearly broke your neck on my watch, I'm taking back DJ duties for moral support," he announced, scrolling through his phone.

Kylie scoffed playfully. "Fine, but if it's country, I'm calling an Uber."

He grinned, selecting a Mac Miller track, its “chill but cool” beats filling the space. "Relax, I know your vibe. We're going with something that screams 'I just narrowly avoided a playground injury, but I'm still cool enough.'"

The drive back to her apartment was easy. The earlier, deeper discussions about fears and childhoods had laid a powerful foundation, but now, it was simply the joy of sharing a quiet moment, of existing together without pressure. The city lights began to brighten again as they approached her neighborhood, and the unspoken realization that their time together was nearing its end hung gently in the air.

The mellow notes faded as Matt pulled up to the curb outside Kylie’s place. The city, though still awake, felt hushed, as if in deference to the quiet understanding that had grown between them. He cut the engine, and the sudden silence in the car felt both profound and entirely comfortable.

Neither of them made an immediate move to get out. The vibe between them was thick with a new, unspoken awareness, a delicate tension that was both exhilarating and just a little bit daunting. It wasn't the kind of tension that needed breaking, but one that promised something more.

Finally, Kylie unbuckled her seatbelt. "Well, this was... not what I expected," she said, a small smile playing on her lips as she turned to face him. "But in the best way." She paused, her gaze steady. "It was actually really nice to see you without your brothers, I wasn't expecting that."

Matt's smile softened, a genuine warmth spreading across his face. "Good unexpected, I hope?"

"The best kind," she confirmed, her eyes twinkling. She opened the car door, but didn't immediately step out. Instead, she paused, a genuine softness in her expression. "Thanks for not being weird," she offered, the words sincere.

Matt chuckled, a warm sound in the cool night. "Thanks for not being… Hollywood," he replied, a playful jab at the work community they were used to.

They shared a smile, a silent acknowledgment of the authenticity they'd found in each other, away from the glare of cameras and expectations. It was a shared secret, a small victory in a world that often felt performative.

"Next time," Matt said, his voice a low rumble, the words holding a weight that transcended a casual suggestion. "You're picking me up. I see your car."

Kylie's smile widened into a full grin, a flash of her inherent confidence returning. "Bet," she nodded, her eyes bright with a challenge he was more than willing to accept. "But I’m still picking the music."

He didn’t mind one bit.

tagging: @sturns-mermaid @a103-chris-mm @zenithsturniolo @cayleeuhithinknott

[plmp0]

The Nerd

Summary: Jake moved to your school because of his parents work, and you couldn't help but think how a nerd like him would fuck so u made that ur challenge.

Warnings: Nerd!Jake, kinda mean Jake, kinda switch Jake, pervet!reader, kinda uncomfortable, reader is so pushy (whatever that means), public touching, manipulative!reader, hair pulling, spanking, rough!fucking, p in v, unprotected sex (please protect), squirting, fingering, i think that's it.

A/N: Again this was an old draft so sorry if the quality is not the best,i tried to edit some stuff but it's 3 am right now so idk what i was doing 💀, also there might be some typos sorry for that. And finally just note that english is not my first language but yeah enjoy ~~ (also i just realised how long this is)

Jake has been always the top of his class, most of his time is around his books, not having a single friend because for him that means wasting time. So it was quite surprising when his parents decided to move to a new house, and in the middle of the school semester, no less. He didn't like that at all.But when he arrived in his new home, Jake didn't feel so bad anymore. It was a really big house, almost as big as his old school, and with the biggest library he'd ever seen, even bigger than the town's. Not having to worry about leaving his friends was also one of the things that didn't let him have ones, they have to move a lot because of his dad's work so things weren't adding up anyways.

It was Jake's first day in this new school, spending the whole night studying to catch up to their pace and also to maintain his top student image, he went to the asigned classroom. As he expected, no one knew who he was, everyone looked at him weirdly and a boy with glasses even whispered to the person next to him that he "looked like a nerd".He sat down and waited for the class to start, the teacher arrived a few minutes later and greeted the students before calling the attention to the new student. "Everyone, please, give a warm welcome to our new student, Jake. Now, I don't want anyone disturbing his studies, if you do I will make sure the principal knows." the teacher said, giving a stern look at some boys in the back, one of them was the same one who had made fun of Jake's appearance.The boys in the back, as if sensing their teacher's glare, tried to look as innocent as possible. Some of the other kids were talking about the new student while the rest were too focused on their phones or books. Jake nontheless ignored and filtered any meaningless noise, focusing on the class instead. "Alright, now, open your books on page 249. Y/n, you can read until page 270, then we will move on to the next chapter." The teacher said, making Jake shift his attention to you.

You nodded, but Jake was sure you hadn't heard the teacher, as your eyes were glued to the phone, scrolling through something. You didn't even try to look like you were reading, and when the teacher noticed this she went over and took the phone away from you, Jake shaked his head unimpressed not liking that you made him waste a full 10 minutes. You tried to convince her to give it back, but the teacher, Mrs. Smith, didn't relent and kept it until the end of class. Jake tried to focus again on the class, but his mind was somewhere else, you not shutting up talking loud enough as if u were sitting next to him, he huffed turning around to face you and giving you a cold glare, making you stop and shiver, not saying anything else but finding interest on him, you've always liked nerds. He sighed, relieved, and continued to pay attention to the class, writing down everything he was supposed to and more. Once class ended, everyone left except you, Jake and Mrs. Smith, who wanted to speak to him about some important things, as well as talk to him about his grades and how he would fit into the class. You stood up and stretched, yawning before heading towards the teacher to get ur phone back, not caring much for what the two were discussing, "Oh, Mrs. Smith, do you happen to have my phone? You took it earlier and I just want to go to my next class." You said, trying to sound as polite as possible to avoid getting scolded, you didn't care that much but the principal had told you to behave.

"Oh, yes. Here you go. But next time please try not to use it during class, or else I'll have to take it away again, alright?" She handed you the phone, you quickly nodded and thanked her, turning on the phone and walking away rolling your eyes. "Oh, and before I forget, here are the things that are new to the semester. Jake, I'm sure you'll do great." She handed him a folder full of papers, which he took, thanked her and left. He went over the papers as he walked, not paying much attention to where he was going, but making sure to read every line, his eyes were so focused on the paper that he didn't even notice you. "Hey, watch out." But you didn't, instead, the two of you bumped into each other, dropping the papers and Jake huffed losing the spot he was reading. You fell, not being able to catch yourself because your hands were holding the phone, you scoffed annoyed. "What the fuck, watch where you're going." "Says the one who didn't watch their step, dumbass." Jake mumbled, picking the papers. "What was that?" You asked, not quite hearing him, and not happy about being called a dumbass.

Jake turned to face you, giving you a stern look while collecting his papers not wanting to drag this convo any longer. You were about to argue back when you noticed the papers he was collecting, and how much there was. You got curious, how could this nerd get so much extra credit on the first day? "Hey, let me see." You took the papers away from him, skimming through them. "Are you serious?" U exclaimed,"Hey, give it back. And watch your tone, it's very rude." Jake glared at you. "Why should I?" You smirked. "What are you gonna do about it? Tell on me? Go ahead." You said mockingly, Jake massaged his forehead annoyed and grabbed the papers, pulling them from you, making you stumble and drop the phone again, "Hey!" You yelled, looking at your phone. "Do you have any idea how expensive that was?!" "Then be more careful with it, maybe then it won't fall" Jake shrugged, fixing the papers and putting them in his backpack, you rolled your eyes and picked up your phone checking it and you huffed relieved seeing that it didn't break. U bit ur lips this new student is really getting into ur nerves, but you had a better way to deal with him. "Whatever, loser." You turned around and left, not wanting to get in trouble on the first day.

Jake chuckled a little bit as u left, "what a great first day" he mumbled with sarcasm in his tone, heading to his next class but he stopped mid-way, he was so focused on what had happened that he didn't realize how lost he was, not having any idea of where he had to go and now his late for class, great. He spent a long time looking for class that now he has arrived late, sighing relieved when he finds the door open and walks in. "Sorry for arriving late, sir. I'm the new student, Jake." "Don't worry about it. Go ahead and take a seat. You're in the back." the teacher said, and Jake nodded, walking towards the back and sitting down trying to ignore the fact that u were his seatmate as you were already sleeping or that's what he thought, the teacher didn't even stop to breath in the passing 30 minutes making everyone yawn well everyone appart from Jake, he was busy writing when he let a very loud gasp making everyone look at him questionably, he excused himself feeling embarrassed as he felt your hand  wondering in his thighs above his jeans, his mind was racing and he wasn't able to focus at all, he looked at you and noticed the smirk on your lips as u rested ur head on the table,

oh that was not good. The teacher didn't say anything and continued the lesson, but Jake couldn't focus anymore. He couldn't believe this, he never let anything shift his attention before neither was he touched this way by a girl in a fucking classroom. He shifted on his chair, trying to move away from you, but that only caused your hand to travel higher, making his face flush and you grin liking the reaction u got from him, ur grin got bigger when u felt his bulge on ur hand. Jake felt a chill go down his spine, he was not enjoying this at all, why would he? This was just distracting, and he wanted to stay focused that's what he tried to convince himself but the fact that he stopped getting away from you made you continue ur movements, you caressed his thigh through the fabric, and then moved on to his bulge, squeezing it gently and rubbing him.

He gasped and tensed up, closing his eyes and trying not to move. He bit his lips as the sensation was getting stronger, and soon his cock was rock hard, throbbing under your touch, Jake was so new to this feeling he was going crazy, you smirked as u felt his member twitch, you looked at him and could see the embarrassment in his face, u leaned on him and whispered quietly "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Naughty boy." you teased, licking his ear. Jake bit his lips and moved his head, trying to get away from you, he was so scared that someone is gonna see the both of u, and seconds later the entire class was staring at him wondering what's wrong when he hitted his knee on the table while trying to squirm. He didn't know what to do, this was kinda embarrassing but it feels so good, and he didn't want it to stop, he opened his mouth to ask what you were doing, but when he felt your hand squeeze him, he gasped and couldn't hold back a moan, causing him to cover his mouth. He was redder than a tomato, and he couldn't look at the teacher or the other students afraid to get caught, you continued, enjoying his reactions, and the fact that everyone was focused on their things. It was obvious that Jake wasn't getting away, and that was fine with you. He was hard and throbbing, and his precum had leaked, creating a small dark stain on his jeans. Jake bit his lip and tried to muffle his moans, but you didn't want him to almost punishing him for what he did previously, you squeezed him again, rubbing his length. "You're so hard, Jake. I didn't think you would like this. You're so naughty~" you whispered.

Jake whined and closed his eyes, shaking his head, not wanting to admit that neither to hear it now it was hard enough from his to muffle his sounds, but it was true, he did like this. And the fact that he was hard as a rock proved it if only he didn't have to be in a space full of people he'd acted differently. He was getting close you could feel it as he was breathing heavily  his eyes were tightly shut, his hips were moving with your hand and you thanked god that u were sitting at the end of the class or the teacher would have seen everything, you sped up your movements and that's when Jake lost it, his body tensed up and his hips buckled, he groaned as quietly as he could before releasing his load on his jeans, making a small wet spot. You grinned, stopping your movements and moving away from him. Jake opened his eyes and looked at his pants, noticing the stain, and realizing what just happened, he looked around, seeing everyone staring at him, the teacher was waiting for him to answer a question, and the rest were looking at his flushed form face confused. He gulped and cleared his throat, looking at the teacher, not knowing what the question was.

"Are you okay, Jake? Are you feeling sick?" The teacher asked. "N-no... Sorry, I'm okay..." Jake said. "I would like to believe you, but, I'll let it pass since it's your first day. U should focus or u wont catch up, understood?" , "Yes, sir..." Jake nodded. "Good. Now, can anyone tell me the answer to the question?" The teacher looked around, waiting for someone to answer. "Uh... Y/n." The teacher looked at you. "Yes, sir. 54." You said, knowing the answer and not caring enough about this class. "Correct. Thank you, Y/n. Now, let's move on." The teacher turned around and started writing on the board. Jake felt relieved that he got out of this situation without getting caught, but now he had to deal with the mess you made, his jeans were ruined and he turned to look at you, seeing the mischievous smile on your face. He knew you weren't gonna leave him alone. He sighed and looked away, trying not to think about it and focus on class. But he couldn't. For the rest of the class, Jake couldn't focus, and his thoughts kept going back to you, and what had happened. His cheeks were pink, and his dick was still hard, the cum stain on his jeans didn't go away, and every time he moved, he felt it rub against him.

Once the class ended, Jake gathered his things and left as fast as he could, not wanting to see anyone, or get more attention. He rushed out of the classroom and walked quickly, heading towards the bathroom. He needed to change and get out of this, it was too much for him, he got to the bathroom taking care of the mess and removing his jacket tacking it around his waist while getting his dresshirt out of his pants hoping that i'll hide something before getting out of the bathroom, he sighed trying to calm down as he felt a hand on his shoulder "Hey, nerd. Wait." It was you, smirking. Jake turned around, facing you, his face still a little flushed from earlier and his body tensed upon seeing you, "Y-yes?" Jake asked his words getting out more broken than he anticipated,

he cleared his throat waiting for you to speak, u scanned him the grin never leaving ur lips " looks like you took care of yourself already" u whined disapointed "too bad i wanted to help you" "Wdym?" he cleared his throat again fixing his hair as he felt some sweat forming at the end of his forehead "no need to do that" he mumbled looking at you giving him your puppy eyes, he shifted his eyes to look elsewhere just wanting to go home at this rate feeling tired already but there was no way u'd give up, you really wanted him to lose it so curious to see what he'd do. "But, Jake... You looked so cute when you were enjoying yourself..." You purred, putting a hand on his chest. "I wanted to make you feel good..." he furrowed his eyebrows not loving how you are adressing him "s-stop" his voice was breaking, he didn't know what was going on but he didn't like this. "Aww, come on, Jake... Just admit it... You liked it... And I'm sure you would love it if I continued..." You smiled, and moved your hand down, resting it on his lower stomach. "Stop, we are still in school!" He exclaimed, his voice slightly louder. "Oh, come on, Jake... There's no one here..." You grinned, pressing your palm against his crotch. Jake bit his lips, holding back a moan and his eyes widened when he felt your hand press against him.

His pants were too tight, and he was already half hard. You didn't know how or when but you felt ur back pressed on the wall Jake leaning to face you as his lips were inches away from your ear "I get that you want to be fucked soo badly but i have things to do" Jake whispered you moaned feeling him suck on your earlobe before he left leaving you hot and confused, a smirk formed at your lips licking them "ahhh m gonna have so much fun" u mumbled adjusting ur clothes and heading to meet one of your friends from the other class. After the incident with you, Jake avoided you as much as he could. But that didn't stop you from teasing him, and he always had an excuse not to interact with you, or anyone else, really. He focused on his studies more than the normal days trying to distract himself from you, he was starting to get really frasturated by all of your teasing. You on the other hand were getting annoyed, you had tried so many times to get close to him, or just talk to him, but he always had an excuse to brush you off, and he always seemed so busy. You knew he was trying to avoid you, and you were determined to make him give in taking it as a challenge at that point.

One day, during class, the teacher decided to choose randomly two people for next week's project and to ur luck Jake was paired up with you for the presentation and you couldn't be happier. He wasn't too happy about it that's what you noticed but he had no choice, and the teacher said the two of you would have to meet outside of class. That's when the fun began. Jake was sure that he was screwed. You had him trapped.You were gonna make him lose his control, and there was no way out of it. It was the day you r supposed to meet up for your project, Jake suggested going to a cafe nearby the school but you being your stubborn self insisted to meet up in ur house saying that it'd be better and calmer and blah blah blah, Jake couldn't help it but agree after his failed attempts. He was standing in front of your door inhaling deeply before knocking a few times, you were quick to open the door smiling at him and welcoming him in.

He was surprised when he saw ur outfit, your small shorts not leaving anything for imagination, ur blue crop top hugging ur breasts perfectly, he clicked his tongue rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly when you told him to sit in the living room and you went to get some water, coming back quickly and sitting next to him body stuck to his with the glass in ur hands. "So" Jake started wanting to start with the project and leave quickly "we should start, what's the theme?" He asked looking through his backpack and taking out a notebook and a pencil, u rolled ur eyes at his words "come on, Jakey, you know we don't have to do this right now." u said handing him the glass of water which he accepted "it's not healthy for you to be always studying, let's take a break." "We need to get this done, Y/n." He said sternly, sipping the water. "We can't waste time. So, what's the theme?" "The theme is... The importance of a good education." You smiled, remembering the topic that you picked out. "Seriously?" Jake said mockingly knowing very well how u r always sleeping during classes or just on your phone. "Yeah, seriously." You smiled, taking the glass from his hands and setting it on the table. "Don't worry. I'm not stupid." "I know." He said, and before you could say anything else, he pulled out his phone. "Let's start, shall we?"

"Sure, Jake." You smiled, and started explaining your ideas for the project, and the two of you started working. Jake didn't like that you kept distracting him flashing ur cleavage every now and then but he couldn't say anything cause you were being very professional. He didn't think it was possible, but you were doing a really good job. Maybe this wasn't so bad. You noticed his reaction and you couldn't help but smirk a little, you knew he was gonna lose it and soon. The two of you worked for a couple hours, and by the time it was over, Jake was exhausted. He was glad you were smart enough to not screw this up, but he was still suspicious. You had been nothing but nice the whole time, and it was a bit out of ordinary.You stretched and smiled. "That was a good session, huh?" "Yeah. I'm glad we were able to get some work done." Jake said, packing his stuff. "Yeah. Me too." You smiled, and stood up. "I'm gonna get some snacks, I'll be right back." Jake nodded and waited for you. You came back a few minutes later, carrying a tray of fruit, cookies, and drinks. You set the tray on the coffee table and sat next to him, Jake had some cookies eyes not leaving his phone for a couple of minutes before speaking "Alright, I think we should stop here." , "Oh, why?" You asked, tilting your head. "Because we're finished." Jake said, closing his notebook. "We're not done yet." You pouted. "I wanna hang out a bit." "Hang out? With me?" Jake asked raising one of his eyebrows, "Why not?" You shrugged. "Well, we have nothing in common." Jake said, standing up. "Besides, I have a lot of work to do. And so do you." "Aw, come on, Jakey." You pouted, wrapping your arms around his torso and pulling him down onto the couch. "We have plenty of time." "No, we don't." Jake said removing ur hands from his body, but you were faster as u landed one of them on his crotch making him gasp loudly.

"W-what are you doing?", "What's wrong, Jake? It's just a hand." You smiled, squeezing his crotch. Jake exhaled his eyes fierceful as he looked u down tongue clicking, one of his hands sliding his hair up "you are really a slut ha" "Only for you, Jakey~" You purred, stroking his growing erection. Jake groaned and bit his lip. "Stop i don't think you'll be able to handle what's coming!" Jake warned, his tone more stern. "I'll take my chances." You grinned, continuing rubbing him over his pants, Jake growled and grabbed your arm, pulling it away and pinning it to the couch. "You really don't get it, do you? This is the only chance you're gonna get." He growled, tightening his grip on your arm. You winced a little at the pain and bit your lip. "Sorry. I'll behave. Promise just give it to me" you said pouting a bit. "Woah" Jake chuckled lowly, "someone is being a needy slut today." He said having enough from restraining himself his frustration takkng over him, and you moaned loving his choice of words,"Please, Jake. Please. I'm sorry. I'll do whatever you want, anything please" You begged. "Anything? (He paused for a second) but again it's not a surprise after seeing how hard you tried to get to my dick" He hummed licking ur lips slowly. "Yes. Anything. Just fuck me." You begged, and Jake leaned down, kissing you roughly. You moaned, enjoying the kiss, and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He continued kissing you hungrily, his hands exploring your body.

He broke the kiss, and pulled back, staring at you, his eyes moved to your boobs who were almost exposed because of this position, the blue complementing your skin and making him lick his lips constantly, he has never really went with a girl above kissing and touching here and there however he watched enough content to know what to do, his hand groped one of ur breast squeezing it roughly his nails digging on the fabric as u moaned loudly. "You're so beautiful, Y/n." Jake whispered, his soft tone contradicting his rough touches, "T-thank you." You said, blushing a little , he smiled seeing how calm you are now that you are getting what u want, he pulled the strap of ur crop top down exposing your breast the sight making him gulp as he massaged the other one he neglected earlier, his other hand moving down to cup your pussy through your shorts making you moan and squirm. He groaned as he felt your wetness through the fabric "Fuck, you're so wet, Y/n." Jake grinned, "Soaking." "J-Jake..." You moaned, arching your back, grinding against his hand. "Shh, isn't that what you wanted? So shut up and enjoy it"he smirked, leaning to deliver kisses on ur neck. He kept rubbing your pussy through ur shorts and you couldn't help but whine wanting to feel him against ur bare skin. He pulled his hand away and looked at you. "You want more, Y/n?" He asked, smirking. You nodded, your chest heaving and your eyes wide. "Then take them off." Jake said. "Your shorts." You gulped, and stood up, pushing your shorts down, and taking them off, tossing them aside.

Jake sat on the couch manspreading a bit and patting his lap, u followed his order and sat on his lap grinding your pussy against his hard member while he cupped ur ass, his hands running over the soft skin, he leaned down and placed his lips on your nipple sucking on it making u throw your head back moaning and grinding ur pussy harder against him. You grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it aside and running your hands over his chest. Jake groaned and moved his hands down, hooking his thumbs on the waistband of your panties, pulling them down, you raised your hips, helping him as he pulled them down, tossing them away. His hand went back to cup your pussy, and he moaned feeling the wetness. "God, you're soaked." Jake groaned, running two of his fingers on ur slit, spreading the juices and making you moan loudly, Jake grinned as u were already a mess, and he has just started. "So fucking wet. Just for me." Jake hummed, his fingers playing with your clit, the pleasure making your body jerk. Jake felt his hands act on themselves, his index finger teasing ur entrance making u buckle ur hips, "I'm not gonna do anything if u don't behave, y/n" he growled,

his fingers going to rub your clit roughly, his eyes were focused on ur reaction and you didn't have to try to put up an act, your body was shaking eyes rolling back. You nodded and closed your eyes, biting your lip and trying to stay still, even though all you wanted was to grind your pussy on his fingers, he lifted his free hand spanking ur ass hard making u gasp, your body jerked a bit and Jake rubbed the spot he had spanked, "Good girl." He purred his finger went to tease ur hole once again. He slowly pushed his finger inside, his cock twitching at the feeling of your tight walls. He has only seen a pussy on videos and nothing could compare to the feeling of the real thing, he pushed his finger deeper and moved it in and out slowly, feeling you clench around him. He moved his finger a bit deeper, looking at ur expressions mouth gaped eyes long gone and he grinned. adding another digit and moving it at the same pace, he lifted u a little curling his finger inside you, hitting a sweet spot. "Feels good, huh?" Jake asked and you nodded, moaning loudly, and he spanked you again. "Words." He growled. You gasped, and let a small cry. "Y-yes! It feels so good, Jake!" Jake grinned, and kept moving his finger, hitting that same spot every time. Your body jerked and he noticed how close you were, "you were acting up just a few days ago and look at you now, where did that attitude go ha?" He chuckled when u didn't answer him his fingers reaching deeper making u spasm on his lap,

"Come on, cum for me. Let go." He groaned, his voice husky, and a few seconds later, your pussy clenched around his finger, and you let out a loud moan as you came, squirting all of your juices on his pants, Jake groaned feeling the warmness of ur juices land on his cock, ur body still shaking as he was still moving his fingers inside you, he pulled out groaning at ur attempt to keep him in by squeezing him tightly, his cock throbbing inside his pants as he licked his fingers clean tasting u making you squirm and he gave them to u, you licked them and moaned at the taste, his free hand moved down cupping ur ass before he spanked u again, you moaned loudly and looked at him, "You want me to fuck you, right?" He asked, and you nodded eagerly. "Please." You begged. "You've been such a good girl for me so far, so I'll give it to you." He kissed ur jaw talking over ur skin "but i'll have to punish you for what you did these passing days" he mumbled making u shiver a bit, his hand squeezed ur ass roughly. "Now get up, i'm gonna bend you over the table and fuck your slutty little pussy" he said patting ur core and you whined, but did as he told u, getting up and bending over the table, spreading your legs for him, he groaned at ur eagerness and quickly unbuttoned his pants pulling them down along with his underwear, his cock finally springing free, you looked behind you and bit your lip seeing his length, "wow, you're big." You mumbled. He smirked and leaned over, his body pressing against yours, his lips near your ear. "I'm gonna make sure to make you scream, and never think about going around whoring for nerds again" He whispered, making you whimper, his hands grabbed your ass, giving it a few squeezes, he rubbed his cock on your pussy, making you moan and squirm. "So impatient. Behave." He growled slapping ur inner thighs and steadying u in place

"Sorry" u mumbled trying to stop yourself, Jake smirked and rubbed the tip of his cock against ur clit, making you whine and bite your lip, you felt like you were gonna explode, the teasing was driving you crazy. His hips rolled and his tip poked ur entrance, you moaned and arched your back, trying to take his length inside, he spanked you again making you yelp and he held you down, "i'm the one in charge here, not you" he growled and you nodded, letting out a breathy moan, he pulled back and slapped his cock against your clit a couple times making u shake, the sensation driving u mad and before u could complain his length entered u, the tip slowly entering u and stretching your tight walls making you cry out, "fuck you're tight." Jake groaned, feeling the warmth and wetness of your pussy wrapped around him, the pleasure was almost unbearable, his hand went to massage your ass and squeeze it a few times, his other hand gripping your hip tightly, nails digging into the skin, his eyes were focused on where his cock met your pussy and how he disappeared inside of you. He pushed himself deeper and pulled out slowly, the drag of his length inside you was incredible, you moaned and gripped the edge of the table, your body trembling as he kept thrusting into you, his cock filling you completely. Jake's hand traveled up, his palm resting between your shoulder blades and applying pressure, making your cheek rest against the table. He pulled out and slammed back into you, his balls slapping against you and you let out a loud moan, the feeling was overwhelming.

You felt his fingers grab your hair, pulling you up and his lips were on yours in a matter of seconds, his tongue invading your mouth, the kiss was sloppy yet intense, his thrusts were getting faster, his tongue moving in and out of your mouth, tasting every inch of it. You broke the kiss and let a loud moan, feeling him brush at ur spot, his hand was gripping the hair at the back of your head, his nails digging into the skin and he was panting, his breath fanning your cheek, he closed his eyes enjoying the feeling of ur walls around him, Jake was scared that he'd become addicted to ur pussy the thought of getting out of you was already not clicking with him, his other hand grabbed your hip and he started slamming into you harder, his cock hitting that same spot again, making you scream in pleasure. He groaned, feeling his orgasm building up, his movements became sloppy and his hips stuttered "Fuck, look at u now, taking my cock so well" Jake said, his words coming out in a mix of moans and groans, he let out a low groan and threw his head back, his hips snapping into you a couple more times and he buried himself deep inside of you, cumming and filling your pussy, you moaned at the feeling of his cum filling you and painting your walls white, your legs trembled and you let out a loud moan as your body jerked, reaching your orgasm and squirting all over his cock, your walls tightening around him, milking him. "Fuck" Jake groaned, his hands leaving your hair and hips, his palms resting on the table as he leaned forward, panting heavily, his chest pressed against your back. He was sweating his skin hot. 

Jake's cock slipped out of you and he let a small groan. His eyes focused on your pussy and how your juices were mixed with his cum, and the sight alone made him hard again, he grabbed your legs and spread them, making you whine. His other hand stroked his cock and he guided his tip to your pussy, pushing his cock inside making you whine "J-Jake, what are you doing? I'm sensitive." You mumbled, your voice tired. "We're not done yet, baby. I need to teach you a lesson." Jake growled, his hands going to rest on your hips squeezing them, he started thrusting into you roughly, not giving you time to adjust and his hips snapped into you, his balls slapping against your clit, you were a mess, moaning and whimpering, begging for him to stop. Jake growled and bent down, his face next to yours. "I warned you before but u didn't listen. So shut up and take it." He growled, and his hand went to slap your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh. Your body was trembling and the feeling of his cock pounding into you was amazing, it felt so good!

tbh u didn't imagine him to go this hard on you and ohh god how you love it, no one has ever fucked you this good. The sound of his skin slapping against yours and the lewd sounds of his cock entering you filled the room you were a mess, ur hair sticking on ur face, juices mixed with his cum dripping from your pussy messing up the table. Jake groaned, his breathing uneven and his hips stuttered. He was close again, and so were you. "Cum for me, Y/n." Jake groaned, his thrusts were getting faster, he was losing his rhythm eyes closed biting his lower lip until he couldn't hold it anymore, his hand reached ur clit rubbing it fastly making u whimper "OmG" u rolled ur eyes ur release hitting u like a truck and with a couple of hard thrusts he followed u, cumming inside of you, his cum mixing with the previous one, his hips kept rolling, riding out his high, the feeling was intense, his cock twitched and he pulled out, collapsing on the couch, panting heavily. "Holy shit." You mumbled, trying to catch your breath. Jake nodded, running a hand through his hair.

The two of you were quiet for a few minutes, then Jake got up, helping u getting up too and bringing u to the bathroom. "I'll clean the table." Jake said, leaving and coming back with some wet wipes, he cleaned the table looking at u wearing a robe while scanning his body "u okay?" He asked suddenly feeling nervous not knowing what to do now, u smiled and nodded, "yeah, thanks" u mumbled, he nodded back and looked away, he was wearing his boxers now looking at his pants that are full of ur juices, he sighed and grabbed them cleaning them with the wet wipes and getting dressed, u stared at him confused, "what are u doing?" You asked. "Leaving." Jake said, buttoning his shirt.

"It's getting l-late" his voice stuttered when he felt your hand helping him with his shirt, he heard his phone ringing and went to get it seeing his mom's name on the screen, "hi" his voice was low as he answered, and u could hear his mother's voice asking where is he,  he told her that he was busy with his homework and forgot to call, he was glad that his parents are never home so he wouldn't have to explain anything, he bid goodbye to his mom and hang up. "Is everything ok?" You asked, and Jake nodded. "I gotta go." Jake said, gathering his stuff. "I'll see you tomorrow." You said, and Jake nodded, giving you a small smile and leaving, making you finally drop on the floor as u couldn't feel ur legs anymore but u smiled nonetheless u had so much fun, and this will not be the last time for sure.

Woah i couldn't edit this whole thing so m gonna comeback to it after having some sleep, also this was supposed to be a virgin Jake fanfic but yeah i got carried away and forgot about that sorry

[spookierdeer]

my internet was down recently so i redesigned some miraculous ladybug characters from memory. details of this spur of the moment au below ⬇️⬇️⬇️

this is kind of off the cuff and wordy as hell, but it was what i was thinking about while drawing. i ran out of steam to draw anyone else but if i were to revisit i would probably do this in a different art style lol i tried to make them match but it's too samey to me and got boring working on this fast </3

marinette is 16-17ish instead of 13-15, most of the cast are this age except a few like luka who are 17-18

ignore that marinette isn't fully colored in the first image, i saved it before deciding to fully color everyone LOL

instead of general education, they go to an arts school the first akuma attack was focused on a private school nearby which adrien, kagami, and chloe attend with adrien and chloe being transferred afterwards to the art school (adrien and chloe both put in the fashion design course by their dads)

marinette is in the fashion track, alya in photography/video editing, nino, luka, and rose are in music, juleka and marc in writing, and nathaniel is in illustration/animation. other characters either fall into other tracks as well, attend the private school, or another nearby school that isn't arts focused. if a character fits something else better than what i said then pretend i said that instead 👍

marinette's interest in fashion design takes more of a front seat, i feel like it isn't brought up much in the show for how important it seems to her. instead of a 14 year old designing an album cover and whatever other insane opportunities she's gotten, i think those opportunities might come from businesses and celebrities working with the art school and marinette having a track record of lucking out in her work catching the eye of the people interested

kagami in canon is extremely autistic teen girl coded to me and therefore my favorite so i double down on that here

-her hair is short because in one of the only times she's actively rebelled against her mother's wishes, years prior to this au, she cut her hair short on her own because the feeling of it touching her neck and shoulders was constantly upsetting her. when her mom finally noticed she took control over this act of rebellion and took kagami to a hair stylist to get a haircut she found more appropriate; kagami has been getting it cut this same way since then.

-after moving to paris she had to give up a lot of the norms she found comfort in. i think she would have taken incredible care of the backpack she was given when she first started school and it's become somewhat of a comfort item. the private school would be pretty strict about dress code, but as long as the backpack didn't look sloppy and was in one of the allowed colors, she could use it- so even if she didn't use it much in middle school i could see her returning to it to have as a piece of home in a new place that's otherwise incredibly overwhelming.

-even if she isn't interested in it, she listens to her mom and does as she says which has her even more quiet and reserved than she would be normally. shes good friends with adrien, he's actually one of her closest friends, but she doesn't open up much more around him and he can tell. she meets marinette through him and while she doesn't magically blossom into a different person, she definitely speaks her mind more when around her and eventually adrien- marinette's personality connecting with her own just right and that makes her feel safe in a deep way.

-marinette inspires her to push boundaries, one of the first ways she rebels (considered so in her own mind) is wearing a friendship bracelet marinette makes for her despite her school not allowing jewelry like that. another is a "good luck" charm key chain she keeps latched to a zipper inside her backpack.

-i don't remember, but in the show i think kagami might model with agreste brand in some way? she might do that here too since her mom and adrien's dad are close, but she prefers modelling for marinette's projects even if she's shy about it at first. they're usually alone during this and kagami sometimes helps by wearing marinette's WIPs as she works and during those times kagami finds she laughs and smiles the most.

-i'm rambling now, but kagami reflects marinette in a lot of similar-but-opposite ways i didn't get into here and i need to stop talking about kagami and marinette or i'll be here all day.

idk what all to write for adrien bc i dont keep up with the show anymore so idk what his deal is rn, BUT here i would explore his experience with unspecified depression- he would have so much lust for life and joy but between his mom recently passing and his dad being a quiet megalomaniac with his only real parental support being his dad's assistant and his own bodyguard- he just doesn't feel much excitement with life despite how he might express himself in front of his friends. i think getting transferred would be, unintentionally on his dad's part, the biggest boon possible for adrien bc he would slowly regain that excitement in regards to just living his life- even if gabriel squashes it often with rules and tiring modelling work. becoming friends w nino, marinette, and everyone else would bring him out of his shell just like kagami even if it's in a different way.

luka is one of my faves too so he was one of the first i designed; he's not incredibly more important in this au, but i'd want to focus more on the eldest sibling in a single parent household stress of his character. a wonderful son and brother with a lot of skill and patience who's willing to lend an ear to any friend. lot of stress would pile up and i like thinking about him finally finding out who his dad is- that he's met the guy and it's one of his musical idols. and the man never said anything. and how that would upset him. and being the backbone of not only his family, but his friend group as he's stressed about going out into the world on his own soon in an unstable field and now he has to cope with that too...

instead of meeting alya at school, marinette and alya have been best friends since childhood which brings a bigger stress on marinette when she can't even tell the one person in the whole world her biggest secret- especially since alya IMMEDIATELY becomes ladybug's biggest fan and defender and they never would keep secrets before- and alya could tell she wasn't saying something. i like imagining the added stress of losing that confidant marinette would have had for years and years and having to handle some of the most stressful things she's ever experienced on her own save for tikki with alya slowly worrying more and she can't say a thing. alya got into photography in middle school during projects with marinette and ended up wanting to study it, but seeing ladybug only fuels her love of it- running the ladyblog and social medias about the hero while marinette watches on wishing she could tell alya for the longest time. eventually she does but that's down the line lol

nino is still adrien's first friend in the new school and he meets everyone else through him. i think nino and luka would be fairly close in this au with them working together whenever the other needed help on projects or just helping the other out with learning new skills. i'm not sure how to write it here but i like thinking about alya and nino's dynamic as a couple since what i remember of the show was mostly them together then talking about adrienette instead lmao

one of the biggest examples of missed potential in mlb to me is chloe, so shes rewritten as bully with hero worship of ladybug(/baby's first lesbian crush) only to have her dreams crushed when ladybug takes back her miraculous and says she doesn't think she'll be able to trust her with it again. not sure if she would let it fully go to her head here or if she just suddenly found comfort in pollen only to have ladybug take the kwami away without listening to her side of things. i have a whole thing written for her in my notes app that ill never share just know shes fleshed out here way more than in canon- i already rambled too much about kagami so i'll hold myself back here LOL

marc is such a fun character to me but i REALLY don't like his look in canon and he's one of the main characters i wanted to redesign so i let myself have a lot of fun with him to make up for the years of looking at his canon one

nathaniel is similar, i don't want to change too much about him but i think he's a fun character and his blazer/tshirt/skinny jeans/converse fit in canon pissed me off for years on the back burner lmfao... i think i might've leaned too far away from a style his canon counterpart might choose, but he goes to an art school and if his multiple of his friends being in the fashion track and his partner being an alt kid can't stop him from wearing a plain tshirt and blazer then idk what could

JULEKA..... why does her first saga design look like a sims 4 townie that's goth and into track? not even current sims 4, 2014 sims 4. sims 4 fitness stuff. i'm getting to the characters i wouldn't change a ton about story wise now clearly, i just think their drip is nonexistent, barren. i think her going from near full coverage purple and black goth to bright pink clown when akumatized is a fun dichotomy. i don't think i'll be redesigning any other outfits (or characters for that matter), but that drastic of a change is very fun. i could see her occasionally wearing a privacy mask like marc on days she feels too socially anxious.

i think a modern take on rose would almost inevitably lean into lovecore, but i tried to keep her more simple. i will always love purple/pink ships and the tall, dark, and broody looking juleka who's mostly just quiet and shy and rose who's short, bombastic, and kind with a huge heart is a very sweet and fun pair. in the show she has an unspecified illness which could be any number of things, so i thought maybe she would need to bundle up more than the others (granted there's a lot of long sleeves here lol)- more layers than usual to regulate in the cooler months and the opposite during the warmer ones. i kind of drew these with spring in mind, so she'd probably be wearing thicker leggings or something here- she still REALLY wants to look cute even if her body is mad at her (relatable).

i'm intentionally not getting into the miraculouses or akuma or kwami or the whole (gestures vaguely to gabriel and lila and everything else) here since i'm already yapping more than this justifies for an au i'm not doing anything with. just had a lot of thoughts while designing these. i didn't get a ton into ships here aside from the last few, but i also don't really know how i'd deal with the "love square" since i was never invested in that and instead liked lukadrienette and marigami more lol... i'd also want to explore marinette finding out about chloe's one sided crush on ladybug and her reaction vs chloe dealing with the fallout of hero worship. if you read all of this thank you ilu mwah mwah

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

Indefinite hiatus

I was toying with writing up a long post about what running this blog has meant to me over the years and why I'm stepping away for the foreseeable future, but that feels too dramatic for what's really just me saying "I'm not going to be on tumblr for at least the rest of the year". So, I'll just say I'm not going to be on tumblr for at least the rest of the year.

Okay, actually I have a bunch more to say, but it'll be under the cut.

Politics sucks. And paying attention to it, even in the reduced way I've been paying attention to it over the last few years, is hard. You end up spending so much of your supposedly free time thinking about things you can't change, getting mad about things you can't change, and getting depressed when the people who can change things just keep going in the wrong direction. Even when good things happen, it's just a matter of a few days before something bad happens once again. And vice versa. It's an endless cycle of hope, despair, resignation. Rinse and repeat, and triple speed that cycle during an election year. And I'm tired of it. I'm tired of spending every other year worried about what's going to happen on one day in November. I'm tired of hearing a piece of news and automatically composing a post about it or running through 20 different responses I might give to asks I might get about it in my head.

Everyone I know who doesn't pay attention to politics (or at least doesn't run a social media page dedicated to it) seems to enjoy their live a lot more than I currently do. Which sounds way more dramatic than what's actually going on, which is mainly that I want to get to a place where I just don't care. I want the world and its problems to flow off my back instead of weighing it down. I want to stop thinking about what people on the internet might say about something I haven't even posted yet. And that can't happen while I'm tied to this blog. So I'll be staying away from it for at least the rest of the year.

I did have a good time with this blog. I've met a bunch of really awesome people, some who are sadly no longer with us (RIP Blue), and some who I think will carry on the "fight" way better than I ever did. This isn't an admission of defeat, or pessimism about the election. Even if Trump wins, and I truly think he will if we have a fair election, I still won't be back this year. But I'll still vote and I'll still be proud that my silly little tumblr blog had an impact on some people's lives. I may not have the reach of a Tucker Carlson or a Glenn Beck, but I've gotten a lot of messages from people who said they changed their minds about an issue, or even politics in general, because of things I said, and that counts for something. If you guys take anything away from me, I want it to be this: Even the smallest impact matters. It doesn't matter if you only ever reach one person and then stop, reaching that one person is enough. Changing one vote is enough. Changing one mind is enough.

To all my mutuals, you guys are the best. I truly hope you have wonderful lives and I'm sad I won't get to see your names on my dash everyday anymore. To anyone I've ever followed or reblogged from, I couldn't have had a blog without you, so thank you. Yes, even the leftiod psychos, XD. To everyone else, find your own balance and never give into despair and never listen to people who tell you not to try. Even a failed effort is still more meaningful than sitting back and mocking people for trying to improve even the smallest thing about themselves or the world around them.

I won't be logging back in after I post this, so any messages or asks you send, I won't see. I'll still be active (or as active as I ever am) in my discord, so feel free to join there if you want to. It should still be my pinned post, but if it isn't, I'll edit this with a new invite link.

And that's all I've got to say for now.

[kpoptrashlord-007]

Sir;; CYJ

Word Count;; 2.7k

Genre;; Smut, E2Ls

Pairing;; Yeonjun x Fem!Reader

Summary;;

You’re at your wits end when it comes to your boss’s spoiled son. Beyond the point of formalities and long past niceties, it’s high time the tension between the two of you finds some form of release.

Request;;

@light164star asked: hard!dom yeonjun is very much welcome…

Warnings;;

Smut, Enemies to Enemies That Fuck, Reader is a higher-up in the company but Yeonjun is the CEO's son, exhibitionism but lowkey, office sex, kinda hate sex? kinda rough, brat taming?, Reader thinks she's a dom but…, Dom!Yeonjun, biting and clawing, ass slapping, pussy slapping, face slapping (jk), vaginal fingering, mild humiliation, orgasm denial. There are no safe words or the likes – it’s fiction lol.

Notes;;

Writing Yeonjun brings out the worst in me :) yet somehow I still wasn’t able to summon forth a really hard dom. I just don’t have it in me I guess. Coming back to edit this several months later and I gotta say, I love this Reader!

Main Masterlist

“I bet you like that.”

Gaze darting to Yeonjun and his overconfident smirk, your lips press into a firm line. He’s made a habit of getting on your nerves as of late, knowing full well you can't retaliate without repercussions. His status affords him unwarranted respect, allowing him to run rampant in your life. Day in and day out, he's a menace. It takes all your willpower not to give him a piece of your mind right here and now but instead you fix your posture. Sitting a little taller, you clear your throat. Everyone’s eyes are on you. You can’t let him get under your skin. 

“As I was saying, they’re slamming us with these accusations. Our reputation can’t handle it. Any suggestions?”

Silence. 

“Not a single idea? I didn’t realise we were paying you to be slack-jawed buffoons,” you seethe, slamming your presentation binder shut. 

“W-well, maybe we could release a different scandal as a distraction?”

You roll your eyes. “Anyone else?”

"Why not throw some money at them until they shut up?"

“Or run a smear campaign on them."

"Boooring," Yeonjun sighs, spinning in his chair. "Might as well tell my father to declare bankruptcy at this rate."

"Well, please enlighten us since you're obviously teeming with ideas."

"Sure, but you're not going to like it."

"What a surprise." You tap your pen against the table. "Spit it out."

"For years now their CEO has been eye-fucking you. I say we wrap you in a little bow and–"

“Why are you even here?” Scathing hot words match the intense heat spreading across your nape like wildfire. “Can't you laze about somewhere else? This is a meeting for professionals, not kids playing adult.”

If a pin dropped, you'd hear it. No one dares breathe. There's a tumultuous air between you and Yeonjun, and your subordinates are stuck in the middle. Examining the presentation notes with newfound interest, not a single one of them has the balls to meet your eyes. 

Aside from Yeonjun, of course. He can't seem to look away. His lips curl up into a devilish smile as he leans forward, the table squeaking as he rests his elbows upon it. With a quirk of the brow, he tilts his head and chuckles. A part of you relishes in his reaction, eager to push his buttons at any given opportunity.

"Everyone, out. I expect a full report as well as viable solutions before the day's end," you say, the finality in your tone biting. 

The room can't empty fast enough. Papers jostle and sing as they're shoved into briefcases. Chairs groan in relief with every new departure. Within seconds you're alone with your boss's son, the bane of your existence. You wait with an impatient frown for him to follow the crowd. 

His dark eyes bore into you. Like a beast on the prowl, he doesn't let you out of his sight as he closes the door. A gentle breeze squeezes through before metal seals against metal. It's much colder without the extra bodies inside. You shudder. 

"Do you need something, Yeonjun?" 

"Isn't that"—the door locks with a loud clack—"Mr. Choi to you?" 

"I don't respect positions given through nepotism."

Even louder than the lock is the thud of his shoes as he approaches you. Shoving a chair out of his way, he navigates the mess left behind from the meeting with ease. Paper crumples underfoot but he doesn't pause. There's a storm brewing; it flashes through the cracks of his smooth exterior. 

Once he stands between you and the desk, going so far as pushing your chair back with his heel, he pulls out his phone. The glass walls tint. While you can look out, the rest of the workplace can no longer see in. Just swell. You huff, crossing your arms while you wait for him to rant and whine then finally leave. 

"Shouldn't you call me… sir?"

"Shouldn't you, I don't know, earn that right?" 

He scoffs. "I do plenty around here."

"Plenty of nothing is still nothing. Unless you have something important to say, make yourself scarce. Some of us actually have to work."

It strikes a nerve and God does it feel good. His nostrils flare as he nods, forcing a smile onto his much too pretty face. You return it, though you imagine it is more akin to a smirk. Which would explain why the veins in his neck are bulging. Indulging in the moment, you watch his Adam's apple bob up and down in an angry little dance. 

"I'm not leaving until you call me 'Sir'."

Pulled from your entertaining reverie, you’re face-to-face with his overwhelming audacity. 

"Then I'll leave," you snap, his persistence eating away at your patience. The back of your chair slams against the wall. Standing much too quickly, you break into his space with a well-placed leg lodged between his spread thighs, "because I'll never call you 'sir'."

His legs close around you. Unable to flee, you’re stuck within his intoxicating close proximity. The ticking of the clock subsides and all that remains is the thrum of your racing heart. You gulp down your anxiety before straightening your shoulders in an act of composure. His hands trace up the length of your arms, leaving electricity in their wake. When his tongue peeks out from between gleaming teeth, your resolve weakens. 

Yeonjun is going to be the death of you. 

"That sounds like a challenge," he coos. Trapping your jaw in a tight grip, his fingers burn hotter than the flood of warmth rolling through your system. His lips brush against yours as he leans forward. The delectable scent of his cologne clouds your senses. It's dizzying. "Should we bet on it?"

It would be easy to push him away, perhaps even slap him (once for his arrogance then again for good measure), and yet… 

"If I win you have to be a good little boy and” —his eyes narrow— "do your job from now on."

"And when I win you will call me Sir in and out of the bedroom."

Scoffing, your tone drips with incredulity, "When you win–"

The words are smothered by the press of his lips against yours. Your mind races as he unzips your skirt but when it drops past your thighs he abandons it, focusing his attention elsewhere and leaving you to wrestle the tight fabric the rest of the way. His fingers entangle in your hair as you shimmy your legs and kick the skirt onto the floor. Nails scrape along your scalp, a biting sting left behind as he yanks your head back. You whimper from the roughness of his touch, ravenous and angry, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue tastes like apple as it toys with yours. 

Eyes squeezed shut, the first smack comes out of nowhere. Tantalising pain blossoms across your arse. The second earns a soft yelp. He swallows the sound. You were unaware of how tight his hold on your hair was until it’s gone, leaving a lingering ache in its place. Tracing the curve of your cheek, he wipes away the tears before they spill. It’s tender, much more gentle than you thought him capable of, but it doesn’t last. Another strike against your raw flesh leaves you trembling. Clinging to his shirt, your hands ball up in fists as he massages your skin.

You break the kiss to glare at him. A coy smirk twists his lips and desire blazes in his eyes. He possesses an intensity you’ve never known. It’s all-consuming. Unable to hold his stare, you look toward the door. Still locked. Biting your bottom lip, you watch as members of your team walk past, oblivious to the sin taking place just beyond the darkened glass. 

Yet you can’t shake the thought of being caught, 

can’t escape how it ignites a fire in your core, 

can’t stop your cunt from clenching in anticipation. 

“Anything you want to say?” 

“Yes, actually,” you say with a chuckle, ignoring logic in pursuit of pleasure. Overheated, your mind is an incoherent jumble. You know you should end this before it devolves into something you can’t stop but there’s a carnal urge within you. Desperate to be stung, you kick the hornet’s nest. “You’re as inadequate as a lover as you are an employee.”

Tilting your chin back toward him, he groans when you refuse to look him in the eye. “God, I’m going to ruin you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

There’s no real bite behind your words. They’re hollow just like your promise to remain professional around your boss’s fucking son. How much of a horny idiot does one have to be to get involved with Yeonjun of all people? A fresh wave of embarrassment explodes throughout your body. This is career suicide, so why are you guiding his hand under your skirt while your tongue grazes his jaw?

“I knew you were a freak,” he purrs into your ear, the baritone of his voice eliciting a shudder. 

“Luckily for me, so are you.”

With little grace he flips you around and pushes you down on the table. It shakes and creaks as he follows close behind, lowering himself until your bodies meet. Lifting your leg onto his back, his hips thrust against yours. The friction is electrifying. Though the sensation is minimal, it is just enough to leave you wanting.  

Animalistic, you claw at his shirt. Buttons fly free before hitting the table with sharp taps. His shirt opens to reveal a toned chest. His expression morphs into that of a smirk, confidence oozing from his sparkling eyes. It’s enough to halt your admiration – you don’t intend to boost his overinflated ego. With a glower you run your nails down his torso. Red streaks decorate his skin. 

“At this rate you'll be calling me ‘sir’,” you sigh, feigning disinterest. It’s all in vain as your body follows in tandem to the slow grind of his hips. 

“What a wild imagination you have.”

Gripping both of your wrists within one large hand, he pins your arms above your head. He doesn’t hold back. His lips latch onto your neck and he sucks on the skin until you whine. Tantalising and deliberate, he grinds against your cunt one last time before rising to his knees. Your body instinctively lifts, eager to bask in his warmth longer, and you have to dip your head away to hide your shame. 

“Keep your eyes on me.” 

There’s a sternness in his tone that has you faltering. Hesitantly you turn back to him for a mere second before giving up, choosing to watch how the office is carrying on without you. A mistake, you realise too late, as Yeonjun slaps your pussy. Fire blossoms in your gut. You clench around nothing, your toes curling. He slaps the sensitive area again and you squirm in his grasp, an indignant mewl passing through your parted lips. 

“Look at me.”

Your gaze snaps to him. Magnetised, you can’t look away. Once more he slaps your cunt, mouthing something about you being a bad girl. The pain is delicious – shocking and intense. It sets your nerves ablaze. Back rising off the table, you arch toward him. The contact you expect doesn’t come; instead you’re greeted with the harsh nipping of his teeth. He clamps down on your breast, biting hard to combat how your bra shields you. Never one to make things easy, you fall away from him. Your breast slides free of his mouth without much fight but the clothing is another story. 

As you drop there’s a snap. Like a small whip, one of your bra straps licks your back in an angry assault. You wince as it lashes your bare skin. After taking a moment to catch your breath and clear your mind, you allow your teary eyes to reopen. His chest heaves as he snickers around your clothing. He doesn’t let go, tugging on your shirt until it stretches. 

“Bastard!” you growl, baring your teeth. 

Spitting the fabric out, he releases your wrists and licks his lips. “Hush now. I’ll buy my little honey a new one. Would you like that?”

“You’re damn right you will!”

His nails tickle your stomach, trailing up your chest to toy with the collar of your shirt. The material constricts around you as he lifts you with one hand. All teeth and tongue, he kisses you, stealing your breath until you manage to break away. Head lolling to the side, you transfer your whole weight into his hold, ignoring how your shirt digs into your back. 

He tuts. “Where are your manners?” 

When he lets go, the table wobbles as your body slams down upon it. Pens clatter to the floor. Your pained irritation warps into a wide-eyed shock when he drags his fingers up your thigh before pushing your panties aside. Two fingers slip into your soaked cunt. Gasping loud enough to be heard by anyone outside the door, panic chokes you. When you glance out and see no one nearby, the churning within your gut slows. Your heart stammers in your chest. This isn't like you. What the hell are you doing?

Unceremoniously fast and rough, he pumps his fingers in and out of your wet pussy. Squelching reaches your ears. Red hot embarrassment has you whimpering beneath him. He smirks against your skin, breath warm against your collarbone. He massages your clit with his thumb and you can’t stop your body from reacting. Lightning quick you clamp a hand over your mouth to silence your strangled moan before you alert the whole office to his lewd actions.

“My pretty little slut is making a mess all over my fingers,” he taunts, using said fingers to scissor you open. “You’re going to drip onto the table at this rate.”

"Sh-shut up," you pant. 

"Still so rude. Shall I stop?"

When he pauses, you whine. It’s not your proudest moment but you yearn for him. Your body craves his touch, your mind desires his taunts. Clenching around his fingers, your pussy begs for him, something the rational part of your mind still refuses to do. It’s only a matter of time before you break, however. Thoughts of his cock driving deep and fast into your needy cunt squashes the remainder of your willpower.

“If you want something, use those pretty little lips and beg for it.”

You glare at him out of pride but comply nonetheless. “Please.”

“Maybe,” he hums, pumping his fingers twice before pulling out completely, “you should try harder.”

You’re empty without his touch. It’s shameful how quick you fell to him, how easily you crumbled to his whims. You could end it all here and now–tell him to get to work and walk out–but that’d be like quitting. Even losing is better than quitting, at least that’s what you tell yourself as you grab his belt buckle. Within seconds it’s on the floor. It isn’t until you’re yanking his pants down that he halts your actions. 

Always so condescending, he chides you. “Not so fast, princess. You haven’t earned it.”

Lips forming a small pout, you huff. A lazy smirk crosses his features and he coos, tapping your nose. Every inch of your being burns with indignation. You should leave, you know you should, but there’s a part of you that’s loving it. Loving how he belittles you, loving how he takes control. There’s no denying how wet you are from the mere notion of submitting. Abandoning the last of your sensibility you relent. 

“Please, sir,” you whimper, the words foreign on a tongue so used to taking charge, “I need your cock. No… no one else will do, I need you.”

He sighs, the sound mocking everything you’ve ever stood for, and cradles your face. The triumphant grin adorning his near-perfect face only serves to wound your pride further. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that spells trouble. Gloating, he leans down to your level, his mere presence warming your skin in anticipation.

“Then get on your knees and work for it.”

   – ♡ –  If you enjoyed this, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging, and/or following! Thank you!

[hmhas-00]

Ch. 15

Hit Me Hard & Soft

A/N- Hi lovelies! I hope you like today’s chapter! The next few chapters after this one will be more and more intense… hope you’re ready for some angst! 🤪

Remy’s POV

“Remy, can I see you in my office please?” Joe peeked around the cubicle, startling me half to death.

I looked up from my laptop, “Yeah, I’ll be there in just a minute, let me save my work.”

“It’s quite urgent.” He walked away, closing the door to his office once inside.

I rolled my eyes, wondering what he could possibly want this early in the morning.

I was finalizing edits on the new article for the month of December. I couldn’t believe an entire month had gone by already, and Christmas decorations were being put up.

When I knock on Joe’s door, he invites me in immediately. “Come in, take a seat.” He says without looking up from his screen.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Certainly. It’s been brought to my attention that you requested off December 3rd-8th?”

I nodded, “Yes, that’s right. I have a trip planned to-“

He cut me off, “That’s in 4 days, isn’t it?” He looked at his calendar.

“Yes, Joe, I requested it over two weeks ago. You approved it.”

“That doesn’t sound like something I would do, especially with so many people taking time off for the holidays this month.”

“Joe, I can’t cancel this trip. Is there any way we can-“

“Remy, you have that end of the year evaluation coming up don’t you?” He angled his glasses down and leaned back in his chair.

“I believe so.”

“I believe you’re overdue for a raise as well.”

“I am.”

“Remy, I read the digital article you published for Rachel in October.” He took off his glasses and set them on the dark, wooden desk.

“You mean the article Rachel-“

“I know your writing. I could pick out your writing blind in a room full of others. I’ve seen Rachel’s work and there’s no way in hell that was hers.” He said monotoned, straight to the point.

I shifted in my chair, feeling like I blew her cover, even though it seemed fair. In a way it made me feel accomplished that he could tell it was me. What differentiated my writing from Rachel’s? The girl he hired for my position. If he felt like this, why was she still better than me? Why did she get the comfortable salary and the flashy new title? Still, I began to feel that hope again. That hope he always managed to snatch away.

“It is in your best interest to stay put. That is, if you don’t want your evaluation to suffer. December is our busiest time of the year. You know that by now.” He put his glasses back on and resumed on his computer. “Think about it.”

“I’ll make some accommodations, thank you, Joe.” I stood up, walking towards the door.

“Close the door on your way out, darling.”

I drove to Billie’s after my day ended. In her kitchen, we ate the yummy meal she made, sitting at her rustic, wooden picnic style dining table.

I was nervous to tell her I wouldn’t be able to join her on tour when she leaves again in a couple of days. Especially since I had already cancelled on her a bunch the week of Thanksgiving, because Joe needed me to work the whole time. Apparently, Rachel had turned in her time off requests the moment she was hired, meaning I had to spend late nights at the office instead of helping Billie’s family prep for thanksgiving dinner.

“You’re quiet today, everything okay at work?” She asked, twirling chickpea pasta around her fork and putting it in her mouth.

I chewed my food, covering my mouth with a hand.“Yeah, just a slight change of plans.”

“What kind of change?” She asked hesitantly.

“At the end of the year I’ll be evaluated, and be given a raise! Maybe even a promotion?” I tiptoed around the details, truly wanting her to get it.

“Rem, that’s crazy! It’s great, it was about time!”

“I know! He even basically said my writing was way better than Rachel’s, and he could tell it apart from anyone else’s!”

“Really?” She smiled, briefly grabbing my arm and shaking it, excitedly.

“Yes!” I cheered. “I think he might make me a co-writer… Well officially. Or even better, in charge of her.”

“Well, what’s the catch? Humiliation ritual?” She joked, waiting for me to laugh with her.

“Well…” I fought with the pasta on my fork as I clenched my teeth in my mouth, trying to put the words in the right order before saying them out loud.

She put her fork down, watching me intently, noticing I wasn’t about to joke with her.

“I can’t come with you to Vancouver.” I felt awful, immediately reading her eyes.

“You mean, you’ll meet me in Seattle then, right?” she asked, hoping I wasn’t serious.

“Billie, I won’t be coming at all, I’m sorry.” I looked at her, seeing sadness in her eyes. She said nothing at all. “It’s just, this is really important to me. And I’m finally making my way up! I wouldn’t cancel if it didn’t know it was serious! This evaluation, I can’t afford to-“

“This just happened a week ago, Remy.”

“Well, technically I came to see you every day I could, after work!”

“You fell asleep on me almost immediately after we put on our show every time. And thanksgiving day, you sat on your laptop and worked the whole time. You barely looked up, until it was time to eat.”

“Billie, it wasn’t my fault. Rachel was out of town-“

She closed her eyes and breathed out. I could tell she was hurt. I hate that I let her down again. “Remy, look, I know that you’re busy, and your job is important to you… But, you promised. You promised me you’d try to come see me, and we already had all these things planned for us to do…” Her voice trailed off.

“I know, I know. And I did try!”

She looked at me with that are-you-kidding-me face.

“I’m so sorry. I really want to go with you. You know I do!” I ran both my hands through my hair, scratching my scalp as an attempt to self soothe. “Look, you’ll be back in California on December 10th.”

She sighed at me. Those big blue eyes drooping in misery.

“I will be there, in San Jose, to watch you perform. It’ll be awesome. Your last leg of the American part of the tour. Wrapping it up in our home state? I’m going to be at every single one of those shows.”

“Will you?” She crossed her arms.

I held out my pinky. “I promise.”

She took one look at my hand and stood up from the table, taking her dish to the sink.

“Billie…” I watched her scrub her plate clean. I got up, standing behind her. I wrapped my arms around her neck and rested my head on her shoulder. I pressed my left cheek against hers.

“It’s fine, Rem.”

“No, it’s not. And I’m sorry… I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” I unhooked an arm and held out my pinky.

She finally gave in and linked her pinky. I could tell it wasn’t good enough, but it was the best I could give.

“I know how important it is to you. I was just looking forward to you touring with me. That’s all. I just miss you.”

“I miss you too.” I turned her around and gave her a proper hug. “I’ll see you again in a week, this time.”

“Yeah and then I leave again in February to Australia for a whole month.”

“Maybe by then I’ll be able to take a few weeks off and go Australia with you! In the meantime, let’s focus on the time being, okay?”

She pulled away, nodding. “I’m happy for you, you know that?”

“I know, it just sucks. I get it. Trust me, I wanted nothing more than to go with you.” I walked back to my plate and finished eating.

******

The week dragged on as I took over Rachel’s duties, and typed endlessly on my Mac. Joe had allowed me to use Rachel’s office to “get my creative juices flowing”. She was off for most of the month, which meant I’d be bending over backwards to get her work out in time. I still had over 5 pieces to edit, unfortunately. Billie’s instagram posts from Seattle weren’t helping at all, either.

I zoned out, looking into the skyline, daydreaming of this office actually being mine.

“Happy Thursday!” Joe popped his head in, unusually chirp.

“Morning, Joe.” I looked up at him, coming back to reality.

“You look good in here.” He walked in and manspreaded on one of the accent chairs across from my- I mean Rachel’s desk.

I sat up straight, “It’s nice having my own space.” I smiled.

“It is, isn’t it…” He smiled back. “How would you like to join in our meeting tomorrow? All our column writers will be there, except Rachel, of course. I think you’d fill that chair out nicely.”

“Oh, I’d love that!” I couldn’t hide my enthusiasm. I’ve wanted to sit in on one of those meetings for so long.

“Wonderful.” He stood up, clearing his throat and putting a hand on my desk. “Dress to impress. You wanna look the part. So, wear something nice.”

“Of course.” I nodded, as he walked out.

******

The next day, all I could think about was this meeting. I was thrilled to be able to be a part of something so big. I couldn’t wait to present all my ideas, and visions for the column. I spent hours the night before typing up a presentation, and looking for what to wear.

I dial Rachel on the way to work, hoping she’d have any advice for me. Luckily, she was just as ecstatic for me as I was.

“You’re gonna do great, girl! Just make sure you don’t speak over anybody, and smile at everyone, and just play nice. It’s a game, you know? You gotta make the right moves.” She suggested.

“Right, right. Ugh, I’m so nervous!”

“Don’t be. Oh! And, uh… What are you wearing right now?” Rachel asked.

“I’m wearing white slacks, a white blouse, and a beige blazer.”

“I was afraid you might say that.”

“Why!” I glanced at my outfit. “It’s cute!”

“The slacks. Maybe you should’ve gone with a nice, skirt… Okay, okay, how about your shirt? Is it low cut?Can you maybe lose the blazer?”

“Oh my god, Rachel! It’s a meeting, not a casting couch audition.”

She laughed, “Okay, okay. You’ll be fine, just make sure your hair looks good. It gives them something to fix their attention span on.”

I arrived at the office and passed the board room, peeking through the glass walls. Rachel was right. Every woman in there had tight pencil skirts or tight dresses on. Immediately, I feel underdressed… Or, I guess over dressed.

I walked into the bathroom, immediately taking off my blazer and undoing a couple of buttons on my satin, sleeveless blouse. I fixed my bra underneath, scooping my breasts up so they’d look good, and opened up my collar a bit. I turned, looking at myself from all angles, and letting my hair down. I tucked in my blouse to show off my waist, but decided to put the blazer back on.

I confidently walked out of the bathroom, into the board room and sat right next to Joe. His stare lingered as I prepped the PowerPoint on my laptop.

“Good morning.” He said. “I trust that you have everything ready for Rachel.”

“I do!” I smiled.

Everyone else settled into their seats, and shortly after the meeting began. It ran for about 45 minutes until it was finally my turn to present. Everyone’s visuals and ideas were so creative, not to mention the girl’s outfits were so eye-catching.

I look down at my phone, noticing Billie had left me about 15 text messages, which I couldn’t open until this was over.

I made my way up to the front, plugging in my computer and beaming my presentation to the huge smart screen. I started to cover the topics and titles for the next year, including small artists I’d be reaching out to for interviews. I noticed some of the corporate sharks talking amongst themselves, probably wondering who I was, and why Rachel wasn’t here.

I tried to ignore it, constantly making eye contact with Joe, who didn’t look any more interested than the rest did.

I thought about what Rachel said on our phone call, and decided to play their game. I knew I could be damn good at it too.

I slipped off my linen blazer, placing it on an empty chair near me. I resumed, noticing their attention shifting in the room.

I presented the idea to co-write with Rachel, as well as giving new, independent artists the opportunity to reach out to us, through their management, to be featured on our digital app. I really felt like I was holding their attention. Suddenly, they were intrigued in everything I said. It made me feel powerful.

“Are there any questions?” I asked, as I wrapped up.

“Sure, I have one.” A man, around 30, lifted his hand like a child in elementary school. “Will the budget need to increase?”

“Great question. There’s actually no need to up the budget, just yet.” I answered, knowing it was thankfully exactly what they wanted to hear.

He nodded, “And one more question. What’s your tattoo say?” He pointed at my arm.

I extended my arm and pointed at my right bicep. “Those are song lyrics to my favorite song.”

It felt weird showing my tattoos at work. I usually wore a light sweater or blazer on top, or a long sleeve blouse. Wearing a skirt would be interesting, given the fact that I have multiple thigh tattoos.

He let out a small laugh, his co-workers shaking their heads, but staring at me with the same eyes as him.

Eventually after answering enough questions, Joe took the floor and continued the meeting. After it was over, we enjoyed the catering and chatted for a while. I gravitated towards the writers in charge of art and film columns, taking in the conversations and feeling like a part of this high status team that I wished so badly to be in.

******

At the end of the day, Joe stopped by my- I mean Rachel’s office, for a quick debriefing.

“You must really like this office.” He said, shutting the door behind him.

“I do.” I shut my laptop, packing up my things to take back to the cubicle. Rachel would be returning to work Monday morning, so I knew I had to clear out before leaving today. “All good things come to an end, I guess. Thanks for including me in the meeting today. I learned a lot.”

“If you keep up this great work up, you might just earn your keep and have an office like this one.” He said, his voice low and persuasive.

“They say anything about me being a co-author?”

“They’ve asked to see more from you. Can you have an outline of this new digital article idea you have by this weekend?”

“I already do.” I nodded, unable to hold back a smile.

“Play your cards right and you might just get exactly what you want.” He smirked. “I’ve made reservations at Nobu for next Tuesday at 4pm.”

“Wait, Tuesday the 10th? I can’t, I have a commitment-“

“I wouldn’t disappoint them if I were you.”

“But, I told you, I have plans already that I can’t back out of. You can’t move the meeting to lunch time?”

“If you want to turn down your chance for these executives to have their eyes on nothing else but you, be my guest.” He began to walk out.

“No! No. I’ll be there.” I panicked.

“Good. Because they have their eye on you. That’s not something you want to pass up around here.” He said before opening my door and leaving.

I sighed, packing up my things and leaving. I could crumple up and die thinking about having to tell Billie I wouldn’t make it on Sunday. I promised her I would. There was just no way I could miss this dinner.

I hoped she would understand as I talked myself into FaceTiming her and breaking the news. I sunk lower into my seat as the line rang no longer than 2 times.

“Remy!” She sounded so excited when she answered. God, I’d hate to kill that.

“Hey, Billie, are you busy right now?” I hesitated.

“No, no, actually I was gonna call you! We share the same brain cells, I’m telling you.” She chuckled.

“Yeah.” I laughed.

“I can’t wait to see you, Rem. I miss you! Are you ready for San Jose?” She smiled big.

“Actually-“

“Cause I wanted to see if you wanna join me on stage? You can jam out with Ava and Jane, or do the barricade run with me? Maybe we can do Guess together? You can do Charlie’s part!”

Her ideas came out as one big run-on sentence. She looked so happy as she paced the tour bus and rambled on, moving her hands. I didn’t want to ruin it. I couldn’t bring myself to let her down again.

“I’d love that, it’s just-“

“Please! For me… don’t be shy.” She pleaded. She worked those eyes on me enough to convince me to say yes.

“Okay, I will.” I smiled at her

For the rest of the FaceTime call, I tried my best to act like I wasn’t figuring out how I’d make it to Nobu with Joe, and San Jose with Billie in one night.

[thryth-gaming]

How to be a Werewolf (MotW)

How to be a Werewolf is a webcomic by Shawn Lenore centered around the experiences of a woman who was bitten by a werewolf when she was five years old and has spent much of her life dealing with how to control her wolf-side to make sure she doesn't hurt anyone. It's a great comic and when it drops (usually Tuesday and Wednesday, sometimes only one of those two) it is one of the highlights of my week. It's also one of those stories that really hits that slice-of-life alongside adventure type stories I love so much and which inspired the Mundane Monstrosities team playbook.

This write up uses material from:

the Hardcover edition of the core Monster of the Week book:

The Initiate hunter playbook

The Mundane hunter playbook

No Limits

Use Magic

Trust your Gut

The Tome of Mysteries supplement:

The Searcher hunter playbook

No Limits

Trust Your Gut

The upcoming Slayer's Survival Kit supplement:

The Mundane Monstrosities team playbook

The Changeling hunter playbook

So... it only feels right to do a build of the group as a Monster of the Week hunter team. However, one of the problems of doing this is that How to be a Werewolf has a LOT of characters and MotW is usually best with around 3-4 players. That said, one of the level-up advancements is to create a second hunter to play alongside your own. So that could be part of it.

As a note, to be honest, How to be a Werewolf doesn’t follow the same story structure that MotW series usually use. Instead of a series of short dangers, HtbaW instead has extended, ongoing arcs and troubles. But this is why it is an inspiration rather than a direct one to one conversion.

Anyway.... I'm going to do them as they are at the start, which will still involve some spoilers, but not the biggest ones. I considered having Marin as one of the characters, but decided to keep the focus around Malaya. So the characters I'm building are:

Malaya, The Changeling

Vincent, The Mundane

Elias, The Initiate

Charlene, The Searcher

I'm also going to give characters two level-ups and the Team playbook a single improvement to account for some of the early strips.

First, let's go ahead and start with the Team Playbook.

Walters Pack - Mundane Monstrosities

Three's a few team playbooks aimed at representing a case where all or most of a team are supernatural people in one form or another. Most of them written by me, all of them from the new Slayer's Survival Kit which has been on pre-order a bit and is going into sale sometime in summer:

Escaped Experiments (me) - representing a group of people who were experimented on and escaped a sinister Project that wants to reclaim them. - Definitely doesn't fit the Walters pack.

Coven (me) - a collection of supernatural beings who have made a vow to fight evil, explicitly designed to allow multiple people to play the same type of supernatural being, like being a pack of werewolves. - The Walters pack doesn't go out of their way like this.

Good Monsters (Michael Sands) - a collection of monsters who all try to keep each other in check and supported, trying to live their best lives. - Doesn't really describe the series because most of the characters don’t struggle with being a danger to humanity.

Mundane Monstrosities (me) – a collection of people who have normal, everyday lives, but also happen to have various supernatural abilities. It’s basically slice-of-life interrupted by occasional danger. – And this is what I’m going with.

For style, I’m going to go with the top of the list “Life, Interrupted” which means that at the end of each game system, the players would ask “were we able to enjoy some normal life?” which definitely sounds a bit like the theme of the story in the comic.

Something else the Mundane Monstrosity asks the players to do is set what kind of community the characters come from. And I'm going with "Weird Town".

For enemies, at the start, the team enemy is certainly Connie Greensmith, but on a more general nature, I’d say the overall enemy of the team is “generational trauma”. And for allies, I’m going with The Ross Pack.

For the initial team move I’m going to go with too normal to be weird meaning that most people overlook them when they do or talk about something weird, like magic or werewolves. Moving on to the initial two points of assets, I’m going to go with borrowing innocent front from the Suburban Watch Group team playbook and then I’m adding a clubhouse from Mundane Monstrosities. So they have both a regular business (the coffee shop) and a private location to hang out (the Walters house).

Also, as a note, each character will get an extra move from a list which is how Mundane Monstrosities insures that everybody is at least a little supernatural.

For the improvement, I'm going to give them another move: casual magic.

This accounts for places where the werewolves and witches do just casually supernatural things without having much stress about it.

Malaya Dysangco Walters – The Changeling

I considered going with the Monstrous, and it would certainly fit, because that is about struggling with a curse that separates you from humanity. But the overall story of How to be a Werewolf and Malaya’s relationship to it better fits the Changeling Playbook which is about struggling with ignorance of your own nature. And given that most of the werewolves in the story are just people, it doesn’t feel right setting them up as the Monstrous when I made Changeling to cover this general situation. If the standard werewolf was a maladjusted, cursed people barely under control, then Monstrous would feel more appropriate to me.

To start, for the ratings, I’m going to shuffle around the standard assortment because none of the five default rating lines really feel quite right. The creator of the game has said this is perfectly fine as long as you reach the same balance as the rest of the lines in the playbook.

So, I think:

Charm +1

Cool +2

Sharp +1

Tough +0

Weird -1

So, Charm makes her good with people, accounting for her customer service experience. The Cool stat means she’s better than most people at keeping a cool head and handling hazards. Cool is also the stat that handles the help out move so she’s good at teamwork. Malaya is pretty observant and intelligent, so I gave her a good sharp. Tough is about average. Actually judging how survivor stats compare to hunter stats, she might actually be better than the average person at +0. Anyway, that governs fighting and protecting people. Having her weird very low feels strange… but I do think it fits given her troubles controlling her werewolf side at the start of the series.

As a note, for those that don’t know, the most common way experience is gained in Monster of the Week is by rolling low on a move, so having a low stance on a stat you’ll be using a lot is a way to get experience quickly… and add a lot of amusing drama along the way.

For the unknown heritage, she obviously understands that she’s a werewolf, but she doesn’t really know what that means, and for the three issues she has, I’m picking erratic power, strange thoughts, and unearned reputation. This covers her power doing things she doesn’t understand, the difficult to control emotions, and also the way people that meet her expect she knows a lot more about this stuff than she does.

For her moves, all Changelings get Glamour, which lets her look human and also allows her to get one 10+ result per session in a way that immediately reveals what she is and causes her unknown heritage to give her trouble… so like what happened when she shapeshifted, scared off Aubrey, and ended up a bit regressed into her wolf-mind for quite a while. The werewolf form being her "true appearance" isn't quite right, but it's close enough to fit the situation.

Then she gets two more moves. One of these is going to be they are my people which lets her masterfully protect someone once per session and gives her a bonus when dealing with her werewolf issues. And then I'm going to give her inhuman talent and we'll have to specify a narrow sort of "magic" for her to specialize. Since her weird move is going to be No Limits instead of Use Magic I'm going to think of a narrow physical thing she's good at. I'm not entirely sure about this, but I'm going to go with endurance, so she has an bonuses when she uses No Limits to persevere against pain, fatigue, or other such things, possibly including fear. Seriously, if there's anything you can say about Malaya, it's that she's a bit of a determinator.

And, of course, like pretty much every werewolf character, her basic weird move will be No Limits because, yes, of course I want the implausible and superhuman action hero physicality for the werewolves. Just how much is "physically possible" for a character varies based on how fantastical the table wants to get and on the sort of character the person who has the move. A baseline human with no limits is going to be like an action TV or movie star while a super-soldier or werewolf is going to hold helicopters in place while they try to fly away.

(also, just look up some of the weird and amazing things real life people have done... like surviving falls from airplanes into jungles)

Now, since this is a Mundane Monstrosities team, she gets an extra move from a small list drawn from other playbooks.

And Malaya is going to take shapeshift, because of course she is. And obviously she turns into a wolf and wolf-like shapes, because werewolves.

For Malaya's improvements, I'm going to give her +1 Weird to bring that up to 0 and then I'm going to have her borrow the natural attack ability from the Monstrous, while not usually stated as a move, the creator of the game has stated he sees no reason it can't be borrowed.

So, with this, she gets either two base attacks or one base attack with an extra. I'm giving her two base attacks in the form of Claws (2-harm, hand) and Fangs (3-harm, intimate). For reference, "hand" is like sword and boxing range while "intimate" is grappling range. 2-harm is the same damage as most swords and guns, 3-harm is the same damage as big-melee weapons and shotguns. This is largely unimportant within the context of the actual comic, but adding it in makes me feel like I'm adding in something that's missing.

As a further note, I have definitely done the thing where I level-up to gain a move and then played it off as "no, I could always do this, I'd just never showed you until now."

EDIT: I originally borrowed Natural Weapon instead of Breed as a whole because the characters initially didn't seem to present the common Monstrous weaknesses, but it occurs to me that Wolvesbane shows up as a plot point in one or two storylines, so giving them that vulnerability is appropriate. I won't repeat this under Elias's section, but I will append both character sheet write-ups below.

Charlene Masters - The Searcher

I waffled a bit on what playbook to go with for Charlene. She is a witch that uses magic, so The Spooky might have fit except that her magic doesn't really have a dark side. Initiate and Hex have fortune teller moves, but those can be borrowed later. Charlene isn't part of an organization really (which rules out Initiate) and doesn't involve herself in reckless and dangerous magic, which means not really a Hex.. She doesn't really do combat magic either, so Spell-slinger doesn't fit. Spooktacular is tempting, but it's one of her parents that is the performer not her. Instead, I decided to look into how she had a sort of vision that led her north and go with Searcher. Searcher is someone that looks for answers. The normal application is to the cryptozoologist or UFOlogist, but a witch who received a vision fits.

So, with that said, I'm going with the following line for her ratings:

Charm +0

Cool +1

Sharp +1

Tough -1

Weird +2

So, she's not particularly good with people, and she's noted that she wouldn't deal with people as well as Malaya does. As a note, Charm isn't really about how likeable you are. You could be terribly rude and annoying and have high Charm and very likeable with low Charm. Charm is more about how well you leverage people to do what you want. She does keep her head on and is observant. In a fight, she doesn't go power to power, she's sneaky, so Tough isn't her forte. And she is quite good at the magic, so yeah, she's getting high Weird.

So now on to moves. Anyone who takes Searcher gets the first encounter move and has to choose one of the variations. For Charlene both psychic event and cosmic insight fit, and I'm going to go with psychic event giving her a chance to use the sensitive basic weird move if she focuses.

For her other two moves, she's going to get guardian representing her spirit crow friend and Ockham's Broadsword representing how she's a bit in the know on a lot of supernatural things.

For her main basic Weird move, she's definitely getting use magic because she's definitely a witch. For a long time, that was the only basic Weird move and it is still a good default. As a note, use magic has a long list of possible effects, glitches, and requirements so I'm just going to post the basic move here. And that can be expanded on by taking some moves (usually by adding to the list of possible effects).

Now, on to her "Minor Weirdness" option for being in a Mundane Monstrosities game. The ones that stand out are inhuman talent, the sight, and third eye. I think I'm going to go with inhuman talent and define it as her skill with illusions. See where I posted the text for it on Malaya's stuff.

For her level up improvements I'm going to give her +1 Charm (to be honest, all the characters in Malaya's pack are pretty empathic and good at negotiating and working with reasonable people) and then I'm borrowing The Show: Magic and Illusions from the Spooktacular.

She hasn't actually been part of a show, but that move still fits her powers to a tee.

Elias Ross - The Initiate

So, I considered Elias for both the Professional and the Initiate. Each of these deals with a character whose main story is about their connection with an organization, so both work for his situation. The Professional was tempting due to the bureaucratic way werewolf society operates feeling a bit more modern agency rather than ancient sect. But I decided Initiate worked better over all. Also... for stats, there's a weird rating line for the Initiate that creates one great stat, one good one, and three average ones, so I'm going with that.

Charm +0

Cool +0

Sharp +0

Tough +1

Weird +2

So, he's not particularly bad at anything, but he's good in a fight and in controlling his powers.

First let's define his Sect, giving it two good traditions and one bad tradition. For this situation, I'm going with werewolf society as a whole.

Good Traditions: Like Family, Modernized

Bad Tradition: Factionalized

I considered grabbing bureaucratic from the Professional's list of tags, but on the whole, I suspect that's a symptom of the factionalization rather than the core problem. Like Family is one of the new tags from Slayer's Survival Kit that can apply to either organization and there is a counter to that which is False Family for cases where the "like family" statement is a lie. In this case, the organization very much is like family and in many cases very much is family in a literal blood-related sense.

Now, for Initiate moves. Every Initiate gets this unnamed move I refer to as "the Sect move".

Then the Initiate gets three moves to choose from. This is different from Changeling and Searcher, each of which has a strong, beneficial mandatory move and then gives two optional ones. In the Initiate's case, the mandatory move is more neutral and could even be seen as a downside. Therefore it also gets three optional moves.

For the basic Weird move, like Malaya he's taking No Limits and also like Malaya, his Minor Weirdness pick from Mundane Monstrosities is shapeshifter. (see above where I pasted those two moves earlier)

For these optional moves, I'm going with mentor, that old black magic, and helping hand. This also accounts for him being a bit good at teaching (tough you would expect his Cool to be higher in that case, possibly improving that would be the first thing he chooses on leveling up). Mentor covers his relationship with his mother pretty well. That old black magic usually applies to use magic, in this case, I think it will represent him using his senses... which with the shapeshifter bonus could give him a +1 on top of his Weird for a total of +3 in some forms.

As a note, when a move gives someone new effects for use magic and they don't have use magic I generally assume they have use magic only for those effects or I attach it to their actual weird move. Attaching this investigative ability to his No Limits works well and would go towards him being good at investigation while also being a bit unobservant in some other situations.

For his advancements I'm giving him +1 Cool, because he's good at teamwork, and I'm having him also borrow the Monstrous natural weapons like Malaya did.

Vincent Dysangco Walters – The Mundane

So, now we come to the fourth major character introduced at the start of the story, Vincent, Malaya's protectively taciturn older brother. He's a bit younger than her, "hot in a Vulcan way" as Elias notes and while his sister's been a werewolf for as long as he's been alive, he himself is pretty normal. So, I'm putting him as The Mundane.

As to ratings' lines, every Mundane has +2 Charm, just like every Initiate has +2 Weird. Changeling and Searcher from above juggle things about. Again, this doesn't seem like a thing you'd get out of the way Vincent is very silent, but like Malaya, he does a good job at working with people, even a little bit better than her. And I am again going to play with exact placement of values a bit here and go with this:

Charm +2

Cool +1

Sharp +1

Tough -1

Weird +0

This makes him a bit more accepting of weirdness than Malaya is and thus better able to go along with it. He keeps a cool head well and is observant as well. In the context of the characters in this comic, however, he's not that great in a fight. So low Tough.

Mundanes do not have any mandatory moves and they get to choose three moves from their playbook's list. So, I'm going to go with these options: the power of heart, what could go wrong, and always the victim.

These moves cover Vincent's occasional tendency to need rescuing, his ability to tip things in the heroes' favor, and his practice of pushing into situations that should intimidate most non-magical people.

As for his Weird basic move, I'm going for something a bit low-key and taking Trust Your Gut. Which is an ability to just get hunches that point important things that will drive the plot forward.

Now, as to the Mundane Monstrosity bonus move from Minor Weirdness I'm going to give him another low-key ability and give him the Divine move soothe as it is one of those on the list. Because Vincent is weirdly good at calming people down and comforting them. (Not so weird when you consider his upbringing, but that's kind of the point.)

For his advancements, I'm going to have him take a move from another playbook and have it be The Searcher and take Cosmic Insight because even when he is scared and upset, he holds it together and doesn't usually lose his tactical/crisis mind. Important distinction, this move doesn't say you aren't terrified, it just says you don't have to roll to deal with it.

I'm also going to have him take another Mundane move, let's get out of here which lets him use Charm for the Protect Someone roll. Note that despite the name, he doesn't have to actually leave the scene, he just has to talk someone through saving themselves.

All told, the character sheets look like this:

The Walters Pack

Team Playbook: Mundane Monstrosities

Team Style: Life, Interrupted - “Were we able to enjoy some normal life?”

Community: Weird Town

Team Ally: The Ross Pack

Team Enemy: Generational Trauma (currently Connie Greensmith)

Team Move: Too Normal to be Weird, Casual Magic

Team Assets: Innocent Front, Clubhouse

Improvements

Take another Team Playbook move: Casual Magic

-------

Malaya Dysangco Walters – The Changeling

Charm +1

Cool +2

Sharp +1

Tough +0

Weird +0

Unknown Heritage: Werewolf

Unearned Reputation

Erratic Power

Strange Thoughts

Moves

Basic Weird Move: No Limits

Changeling Moves: Glamour, They are my people, Inhuman Talent: Endurance

Borrowed Moves: Breed: Werewolf (Monstrous)

Minor Weirdness: Shapeshifting

Harm: 0/7 (Unstable at 4, Dead at 8)

Breed (Werewolf)

Claws (2-harm, hand)

Fangs (3-harm, intimate)

Vulnerability: Wolvesbane

Improvements

Get +1 Weird, max +3

Take a move from another playbook: Natural Weapon (Monstrous)

Charlene Masters - The Searcher

Charm +1

Cool +1

Sharp +1

Tough -1

Weird +2

Moves

Basic Weird Move: Use Magic

First Encounter: Psychic Event

Searcher Moves: Guardian, Ockham's Broadsword

Borrowed Moves: Magic & Illusions (Spooktacular)

Minor Weirdness: Inhuman Talent: Illusions

Harm: 0/7 (Unstable at 4, Dead at 8)

Improvements

Get +1 Charm, max +2

Take a move from another playbook: Magic & Illusions (Spooktacular)

Elias Ross - The Initiate

Charm +0

Cool +1

Sharp +0

Tough +1

Weird +2

Sect: Werewolf Council

Good Traditions: Like Family, Modernized

Bad Tradition: Factionalized

Moves

Basic Weird Move: No Limits

Initiate Moves: The Sect Move, Mentor, Helping Hand, That Old Black Magic

Borrowed Moves: Natural Weapon (Monstrous)

Minor Weirdness: Shapeshifting

Harm: 0/7 (Unstable at 4, Dead at 8)

Breed (Werewolf)

Claws (2-harm, hand)

Fangs (3-harm, intimate)

Vulnerability: Wolvesbane

Improvements

Get +1 Cool, max +2

Take a move from another playbook: Natural Weapon (Monstrous)

Vincent Dysangco Walters – The Mundane

Charm +2

Cool +1

Sharp +1

Tough -1

Weird +0

Moves

Basic Weird Move: Trust Your Gut

Mundane Moves: Always the Victim, The Power of Heart, What Could go Wrong, Let's Get Out of Here

Borrowed Moves: Cosmic Insight (Searcher)

Harm: 0/7 (Unstable at 4, Dead at 8)

Improvements

Take a move from another playbook: Cosmic Insight (Searcher)

Take another Mundane move: Let's Get Out of Here