#there are some in my drafts i'd like to get to already

[mastermicd]

well hey, strangers. it's been a minute.

my ridiculously full queue has continued to run one post a day in my absence, but i honestly haven't actually been here for a long while. i've had a lot going on, most of which i won't bore you with. but one factor of my disappearance is the fact that my external hard drive has decided to give up –– which stored my whole indie life. my dearest beloveds ( @bruiseeasily & @krys4lis ) have encouraged me to return despite this.

so i've pulled together some (super rough) new graphics and banners to use, and while i don't have the energy or muse to completely rebrand, i'm hoping that by dipping my toe, the muse might come back!

i plan to continue leaving my queue running as is, and the threads sitting in my drafts will be responded to and dropped into it, though if muse comes back i may look to increase the post frequency. thank you to everyone that has taken the time to reply to things while my only presence has been one post a day. i'm going to really make an effort to engage with the memes my mutuals post to encourage interactions (as i haven't been the best at that, and i can only apologise) and will be keen to get some new things going. new threads won't be put in the queue, at least not at the moment, to not keep you waiting any longer than i already have.

big ramble over! i'd appreciate it if you engaged with this post in some way if you'd like to write –– i'll come and message you on here, or on disco if i have it, to get some things moving again. you might see some memes drop into your inbox over the next few days too. i appreciate you all ♡

p.s. what do you think of the new headers?

[violet-jessop]

insane that once a month i lose my mind alongside my uterus' lining

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[gachaparadise]

[latalpavolante]

Mick somehow convinced his older grandson to come to the public pool with Hannah and him. The only reason Jacob gave in was probably to stop his family from constantly bugging him with how he should leave the house more, how he can’t just sit in his room all the time, how he needs to meet up with some people of his age and so on and so on.

Just that there were no other teens at the pool, and Jacob was actually relieved about it. The last thing he wanted his classmates to see was him hanging around with his hippie grandpa and his crazy little sister in his free time.

Still at first Jacob didn’t want to actually go swimming, so there just was some awkard silence, before Mick decided to seize the opportunity to give Jacob some life lessons (which were mostly about how he should take things easy and not worry that much about everything and especially not about his dad’s rants). Jacob loves his grandpa, and feels way more at ease with him than with his dad, and actually feels quite grateful for his support, but still the whole situation was rather embarrassing.

After this conversation, they finally decided to join Hannah in the pool, but while she and Mick were enjoying themselves and had fun chatting with some other visitors, Jacob felt increasingly uncomfortable. He headed to the bathrooms and cried under the shower, and wasn’t able to fully figure out why. He didn’t want Mick and Hannah to notice he wasn’t doing well, so he sneaked over to the desolate basketball court and did some throws, just to distract himself.

But then something unexpected happened.

[therealandian]

right okay now that i've had a minute where i'm not at work, i wrote a little drabble to go along with this:

Elias stopped dead in his tracks, not quite believing what was in front of him. “Wh—Since when did you get here!?” he demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at his best friend, who was meandering down the street like he'd walked it a thousand times. “We weren't anywhere close to Earth when you left—there's no possible way you could have arrived before me!” After standing stunned for a moment, Jon pointed back with a grin on his face and a twinkling glow in his eyes. Admittedly his eyes always looked like that, but that wasn't the point. “That's what you think!” he laughed. “I just happen to be good friends with an eldritch demigod!” He kept pointing, and he kept laughing, and at this point Elias was just a little bit peeved. “You bastard! Why didn't you tell me you wanted to come back here!? I spent thirty years on my own getting here, and that's barely counting the time travel!” Jon laughed harder. “I've been here since 1995!” At that point, Elias could feel himself beginning to tremble from rage, but he kept it together. Mostly. “This could've been significantly easier for both of us if you'd just told me!”

Jon was laughing too hard to speak. A tear slid down his cheek, followed quickly by another. To make matters worse, he was still pointing at Elias like he couldn't quite believe what was happening. Admittedly Elias was also still pointing, but he wasn't having nearly as much fun. He wished he was—it looked, well, fun! As if things couldn't get more confusing, another figure appeared from nowhere and froze as the light of teleportation faded around him. “Uh…,” said Martin Blackwood. Jon didn't notice; he was busy still. Elias did, of course, and a spike of dread stabbed him in the chest. “Uh…,” he echoed. As if pulled by some unseen force, Martin raised both his hands, one pointing at Jon, and one pointing at Elias. He glanced back and forth between the two as if he couldn't quite wrap his head around what he was looking at. His jaw flapped, but no words came out. Jon clutched his stomach and squeezed his eyes shut, not quite stopping the laughter, but at least getting it down to an uncontrollable giggle. He wiped away the tears. “You should've seen the look on your face!” he cried. Elias finally figured out how to lower his hand and stop pointing at his absurd comrade. “Erm…Jon?” “Yeah, yeah,” he breathed, waving a dismissive hand. “Give me a minute.” Meanwhile, Martin finally figured out how to make his mouth work, and spoke. “What the fuck did I just teleport into!?” Jon peeked up at him, grin widening once more as he wiped the tears off his cheeks. “Oh, hello, Martin! Fancy seeing you here!”

:P

i just want to end this off by saying something important to me: as of 5 days from now (may 29th), redeath will be turning 4 years old which is just. UTTERLY wild to me.

when i first started writing that thing i did NOT expect i'd still be working on it this much later. and the fact that i started on stts in late summer of '21 is just. wow this au has gone on for a while. and i still love it to bits! even now with this i'm still finding new fun ways to get them to reunite (thanks @ike9306 for the idea), and it's just. i have no idea how many iterations of the end of this fic i've gone through but i definitely didn't expect where i eventually wound up lol. i still can't believe i thought 50k was a reasonable expectation for stts XD

so i just wanna say thanks--to old fans who've been here from the start and to new ones who literally just found this today. to the people who leave comments on every chapter, those who occasionally drop one on their favorite parts, and to the lurkers i can't see but know are there. i've had an unbelievably fun time playing around with this goofyass concept, and i'm so happy to see other people have enjoyed it too. i don't know that i would've without the overwhelming amount of excited feedback begging for more <3

we've still got a few chapters to go, but i'm hoping yall will find it well worth the time it took us all to get here (looking at the person who read like. all of redeath and all of stts up to that point in one very long session. you know who you are.)

Commission for @therealandian for the fic "Search Through the Stars". Disclaimer, this is not actually what happens! Go check it out.

Thanks for the support!

[hyckstarz]

breaking the rival code | l.mk

pairing. rival!mark lee x afab reader

word count. 6.1k

genre. smut · enemies to lovers trope · humour

synopsis. Mark had a way of getting on your nerves, to the point you'd even considered shutting him up for good. However, your best friend eventually planted a seed in your head that fucking your rival, and breaking the unspoken code, would be enough to finally end the long-standing feud.

warnings. 18+ minors do not interact, fingering, use of pet name (baby), choking, oral (fem receiving), haechan as best friend and instigator

A/N. i had this buried in my drafts for months but it had me screaming into my own pillow whenever i read it so, it couldn't stay unpublished for long.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, Mark Lee," she's fuming, as per usual. Eyebrows tightly knit and throwing daggers with her hard glare while Mark just laughs, "It's due next week, and you haven't even written up a plan?!"

Mark rolls his eyes, his glasses almost slipping down his nose, doodling absentmindedly in his notebook, "Relax, that's 168 hours of time to work on it, it's nothing."

She sinks back into her chair, crossing her arms in that arrogant way — as Mark would describe it, "Actually, it's less than 84 hours if you factor in sleep, other classes you have to go to, and fucking surviving. Mark, do you take anything seriously?"

Mark rubs his face in frustration, facing her, "It's the first year; none of this counts towards our grade," he goes back to doodling small Spider-Man caricatures but, as always, he can't resist having the last word, "And you're too serious, princess. Live a little."

Small things like that always set her off. She was aware of how she came across but, when it involved Mark, she only ever saw red. She somehow manages to calm herself down, realising they're in the campus library and already earning a few curious, judgemental stares.

"Mark...," she manages to whisper somewhat loudly, leaning in close enough for him to feel her minty breath against his skin, "Can we please get most of this done today? I'd very much like to be free of your presence."

Mark chuckled under his breath, his dark eyes slowly drifting over her subtle features, raising a brow in amusement — the weight of his gaze caused the hairs on the back of her neck to prickle. Finally, he gave in and pulled out his laptop. He began clicking through their assignment brief and taking notes down, surprising even her, who started doing the same. As English literature students, it was a given that they had to read a stack of novels and articles, even for an assignment worth 0% towards their final grade.

Yet even small victories in their relationship were rare. It was a miracle that they were somehow able to work through the tasks efficiently, though that moment was short-lived before they were at each other’s throats, with Y/N starting it again.

"Mark, we're meant to critically analyse, not describe. Do you have any working brain cells in that thick head of yours?" Her fingers twitched, as if to hold herself back from clenching her fists and knocking some ounce of sense into him.

He rolls his eyes in response, jaw hardening as he scowled at her, clearly not in the mood for their usual back and forth, "We need to have a synopsis of the texts, I don't know how else you expect me to include all of the relevant info without having a short paragraph in there."

She simply looks at him in disbelief, shaking her head as if he'd just said the most absurd thing ever, "Mark... do you really think we can afford a whole paragraph just on a summary?"

He just chuckles in response, clearly uncaring. She leaned forward, her fingers digging into the desk and turning white as she struggled to maintain her composure. Mark’s casual smile only fuelled her irritation, but she lets out a heavy sigh, judgy eyes flicking across his face.

"You're like those pretty dumb blondes; the only thing you've got going for you are your looks, sorry to say," she sneers, going back to taking notes, but she internally curses at herself for admitting she found him at least objectively attractive.

Mark pauses, head snapping to her, his eyes flicking over her features, trying to decipher what she'd just said, or if he'd even heard her correctly under the hushed whispers of the library. He spins the pencil in his hand, eyes narrowing at her as a smug expression tugs on the corners of his lips, "You think I'm good looking? I'm flattered."

Y/N gives him an exasperated glance, snorting at his sudden change in demeanour and sitting up to look at him straight on, "I know you took me for a fool, but a blind one too? Damn," she said with a sarcastic lilt.

When Mark doesn't respond, just a cocky smirk widening — his gaze intense — she feels her heart rapidly beat against her chest and, as a way to hide the effect he has on her, she rolls her eyes for the nth time that hour, clearing her throat and focusing back on her task, "If you weren't so annoying, or if you learnt how to shut your mouth and do things correctly, you'd have a lot more going for you," she sends him a glare, "But you don't, so your looks only take you so far, and that's below average in my books."

He mocks in response, "Wow, you read? How surprising."

This time, she couldn't hold herself back. Mark did have a way with getting under her skin, so well in fact, that it led to them being asked to leave the library, only furthering their frustration and anger towards one another.

It wasn't always like this, either. When Mark had first met her, he was a shy, slightly awkward teenage boy and, the first impression she had of him, was cute. He was incredibly sweet and outgoing; it was easy for him to make friends and that meant they easily got close too. The only problem was, they were so alike in all the wrong ways. He was just too competitive and stubborn, always aiming for the top, and so was she. It was only natural that friends turned to rivals, competing with one another over everything. With that being an understatement.

From whom could get to the cafeteria the fastest, to who could submit their assignment the earliest and get the highest grade? It was competition, after competition. Most would get exhausted after the first two or three, but for them, it was thrilling, though they'd never admit that to one another.

"I can't believe your loudmouth got us kicked out of the library," his jaw hardened as he met her intense gaze, "Can't you sit still and take comments with some sort of, I don't know, strength? Because clearly, you're so sensitive over such simple, meaningless words," He slings his bag over his shoulder, already walking off.

Only further proving his point, she chases after him, tugging at his arm so that he wouldn't get away.

"You're the one who can't let things go either, always needing to have the last word, what are you, a child?" she crosses her arms and nods her head with a questioning brow, as if to say, 'go on'.

Mark just scoffs, about to walk off before turning around, his hands moving in frustration as he glares down at her, "You- you're such a pain in the ass, you know that? You really know how to drive me crazy."

He's panting, frustration evident. But it was the way he was looking at her that threw her completely off balance. His narrowed eyes flicked to her lips, brows furrowed as though he were etching her features into his long-term memory. She felt her heart drumming in her chest.

Before she could respond, a familiar yet equally as annoying mutual friend of theirs appears, snickering at the pair and their usual quarrelling, "Jeez, can't you two just fuck already?"

"Shut the fuck up, Haechan" they both say in unison, tearing their gaze away from one another with a scowl.

Haechan only snorts, glancing between the pair with an amused brow, "Clearly there's some sexual tension that I'm interrupting here, it would explain why you look at each other like that," He leans in-between them, as if to reveal the biggest secret in history, "I bet you two dream about each other too — in, you know, that kinda way."

Mark just stands there, mouth agape and in disbelief at the absurdity Haechan was spewing, looking between the two. Y/N just scoffed, grabbing the man by his bag and pulling him away without so much of a word. Haechan waved a chaste goodbye to Mark as he was being dragged off to God knows where.

Someone was going to die today, and it was definitely Haechan.

It was quiet. Way too quiet. The coffee shop was empty, hence for the low whispers of the baristas in the far corner, and a cheeky Haechan sitting before her, happily drinking his iced tea after telling his two closest friends that they should fuck each other. She groans, letting her head fall into the palm of her hands.

Usually, this coffee shop was a place where she could find peace and solitude. It was bright, with large windows that let light in all throughout the day, creating a florescent streak of amber and pink through the thin stickers attached to the panels. The colour schemes could easily brighten one's day as whites and pinks peppered along the walls.

The foliage brought life to what would otherwise seem like a cold, simple design, and the bakery added a subtle hint of beige, creating a natural environment. But the best thing about any coffee shop, was the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans, and the sounds of the machine working, or even the quiet conversations. Though, sounds were non-existent today, except for her constant groaning, which started to bother her best friend.

"If you make one more frustrated sound, I'm leaving," he takes another sip of his cool drink, "Is it because of what I said earlier? Just know, I wasn't lying, that would definitely help you two."

She pulls her hands away, pursing her lips as she started twirling her straw, watching the milk mix with the coffee and caramel, "No, it's because I'm... I don't know, frustrated?"

Haechan glared incredulously, "Clearly."

"Not like that, I meant... I miss how Mark and I used to be, how we would laugh at silly jokes, or talk for hours without it having to turn into a competition, but now everything he says or does has a way of getting under my skin," She takes a sip of her drink, eyes twinkling at the taste, "He could just be sitting there, doing absolutely nothing, and I'd I just want to-"

"Want to what?" Haechan asks, ears perking up, waiting for a gotcha moment.

"Well, what I usually do." She shrugs, going back to her drink.

Haechan takes everything she says in, nodding his head slowly, "Anyway, it's sort of funny as Mark said the same kinda thing to me the other day...," Haechan takes a sip of his drink, whining when he finds it empty, "He said he missed the old you, or when you guys used to be friends."

She pauses, meeting her waiting friend’s gaze. Her brows furrow. Mark... missed how they used to be? But she doesn't say anything to Haechan, keeping her thoughts to herself.

The usual smug expression returns as he leans back in his chair, leg bouncing under the table out of habit as he crossed his arms behind his head, "Anyway, as I said, you need to get your frustrations out in other ways. You clearly have a thing for each other. The way you express it is a little... unconventional, but you're both immature, so I'm not surprised."

She simply looks at her friend in disbelief, lips parted as she gapes at him, to which Haechan only grins annoyingly at her. He also had a way with words, just like Mark, except he seemed to understand boundaries a lot better, and was chill enough to not want to fight back.

"What? Please tell me you two at least have moments of either flirting with each other or checking the other person out-"

"No." She scowls, shivering at the thought. Though, she couldn't help but remember the way he'd looked at her earlier, brushing off the thought, "It's hard enough to even look at him without wanting to strangle him."

"Okay, so you're into choking, got it." Haechan chuckles, nodding as if to make a mental note of it.

"No, I'm not into that! Whatever, look, I don't have a thing for him, so just drop it." She looks at him with a serious, intense gaze, as if to emphasise the fact she really didn't want to talk about this anymore.

Her friend only nods, putting his hands up in mock surrender, "Okay, just know Mark would definitely jump you if he had the chance — I mean, which guy would put up with your shit? No offence."

She rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her drink in hopes it would be refreshing enough to block out her growing irritation, "Anyway, the sooner I get this assignment done, the sooner I can move on from this Mark topic."

She quickly pulls out her phone before Haechan could drop in another one of his grand ideas, finding Mark's contact and immediately sending him a text. She almost spat out her drink at how fast he had responded.

You: Let's just get this assignment done with. I don't feel like getting kicked out of yet another establishment, so just come over to mine tomorrow or something.

You: *sends her address*

Mark: Fun.

Mark: I'll be there around 4 if that works

You: 👍

She bit her nails anxiously, eyes glancing between the door and the clock on the wall - each tick of the hands signalled it was only getting closer to 4, which was when Mark said he would arrive.

That wasn't why she was anxiously boring holes into the clock, however. She could curse the heavens, the earth and the 12 Olympians, but instead, she chose to curse the lust demon himself, aka Haechan. She buried her head in her hands, tugging at the roots of her hair in frustration. She can't believe she dreamt of Mark last night for the first time and, it wasn't just any dream — which was the worst part. Why did her mind have to be so vivid and make Mark so incredibly sexy? She had no idea.

When a knock came from the door, she stood up a little too quickly, rushing to it and praying that Mark looked far from presentable than he had been in her dream. But he wasn't, of course. She'd never seen him in jeans before and the green hoodie was the cherry on top. She swallowed hard, peering up at him as he adjusted his glasses.

"Are you going to let me in?" He raised a brow, his dark eyes glancing over her features in suspicion, taking a quick, subtle glimpse at her plaid sweatpants and pink t-shirt that didn't do much to hide the outline of her bra. He swallowed hard, tonguing the inside of his cheek in annoyance yet, the only thing that swirled in his mind were thoughts of how fucking attractive she was without even trying.

His annoyed expression grounded her temporarily, falling back into her usual demeanour as she rolled her eyes and held the door open wider for him, "If I catch you slacking once, I'll kick your ass out of here."

Mark gives her a side eye, frowning before kicking his shoes off, "Are you trying to motivate me not to do the work?"

She laughs sarcastically, leading him to her room as she props herself on her bed, noticing Mark looking over her interior.

"I expected your place to be put together, but not drenched in pink," his gaze trailed over her shelf, taking note of the various photo frames and mini ornaments.

She chuckles under her breath, pulling out her laptop and notes, "What, too girly for me?"

He turns his gaze to her, a quiet silence envelops them for a moment, and she takes that time to admire him. She knew he was attractive — objectively — but never had she looked at him in that way. The kind of way that made her heart and mind race.

Mark finally straightens up with a shrug, sitting down on the edge of the bed and getting his things out as well.

It felt strange having Mark in her home. If it weren't for getting kicked out of the library, her apartment would have been the last place he would be at. Though, now seeing him sat almost politely at a respectable distance from her, typing away on his keyboard quietly, made it start to feel right somehow.

She opened their shared document, reading the notes he was typing up. Even though he tended to be a lazy ass — or a procrastinator, as he would call it — there was no doubt he had a way with words. When he really put his mind to something, he would always deliver quality work. At times, she'd look back on why they had turned rivals, or enemies, and then she'd see what a complete genius he was. Maybe it was always her. Maybe she was just jealous that, no matter how hard she worked, Mark would always be ten steps ahead.

"I wrote up all the notes," Mark's voice cut through her thoughts, "How far did you get?"

She turned back to her laptop, pursing her lips at the blank screen. When she took her time responding, Mark scrolled down the document to where her cursor was and sent her a deadpanned expression, "What did you say about slacking off...?"

She doesn't know whether to laugh or smack him, so she picks the secret third option and scowls, "I did more work than you yesterday."

"That's old news," he sighed, looking through their to-do list, "I thought you wanted to get this assignment done and dusted because... what was the reason again? Oh yeah, you wanted nothing to do with me."

She scoffs, sitting up as she points an accusatory finger at him, "Don't act like you don't feel the same way."

Mark clears out the already completed tasks on the list, colour coding the other bullet points to distribute the work evenly between them, "Oh I do, and I wonder why." He doesn't even spare her a glance.

"Go on."

"Maybe it's because you continuously bitch over every little thing, it's no wonder Haechan is the only friend you have and, it's probably because he's waiting for some kind of green light," Mark's bitter words reeked of jealousy as he spoke through clenched teeth and narrowed eyes.

"Excuse me?" She shrieks before she leans over the bed and grasps at his hoodie, his hand immediately grabbing her wrist, "That's too far, Mark, even for you."

He raised an unamused brow at her, fingers tightening on her wrists, yet she doesn't waver, "Maybe, but I'm sick of it. All you ever do is complain and treat me like some sort of idiot and, when I give you the same energy, I'm the problem."

His voice is tight, jaw hard as he doesn't break the eye-contact. She pulls him in closer, anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach, "What a joke, you're just as much of a problem as I am and, you know what? Maybe Haechan was right, maybe we need to fuck for us to finally pull our shit together."

The moment those words leave her lips, she regrets them. From up close, he was even more attractive that those words naturally came out. Mark's eyes widened comically and she could almost see the cogs turning in his mind.

His brows furrowed, "Wait, you’re serious? You’re actually suggesting that?" his voice carried a disbelieving tone despite his cheeks growing redder by the minute.

If it weren't for the dream she had last night, or that stupid green hoodie he was wearing right now, she would have laughed it off as a joke or even knocked him out in hopes he'd forget what nonsense she'd just spewed. However, all she could think about in that moment were his hands gripping at her plush thighs, spreading them apart as he lodged himself between her legs, his soft lips parting against hers desperately. She swallowed hard.

"Yes, I am suggesting that," she doubles down, the words more confident now. She knew she wanted him, even if he drove her bat-shit crazy. Even if he'd think she's bat-shit crazy.

It was almost laughable how wide Mark's eyes had gotten, his lips parted in shock, "you're fucking serious, Y/N?" This was too cruel of a joke from someone like Y/N. He knew she would rather curse him out than make absurd suggestions such as sleeping with each other. And the more he thought about it, on top of the intense gaze she carried, the more he believed she was being serious.

She leaned in, her warm breath fanning against his skin. She could smell his musky cologne — it was a scent she felt she could easily get addicted to, "I am serious, Mark," her big, doe eyes peered up at him through her lashes, "Hell, I even dreamt of you last night thanks to that blabby-mouthed Haechan."

Mark suddenly grows flustered, averting his gaze. She dreamt of him? His words practically came out like a croak from the nerves, "H-hey, that's a little..."

She raised a brow, waiting for him to continue his sentence yet he'd only grown quiet, his jaw clenched as he processed the situation. He felt his throat go dry and, the way she was staring at him made him feel breathless - a little too out in the open under her gaze. It was taking everything in him to hold back, but their shared history and his growing annoyance towards her kept him stuck in place.

"What? Mark, don't be a pussy," she scoffed. Despite her harsh words, they had rolled off of her tongue like honey, "Do you want this or not?"

Mark's head whips to her, his brows furrowed, "I am not...," the words faltered on his tongue as his hands came to rest behind her on the bed, his nose brushing against hers. He was way bigger than her, his arms caging her in, looming over her, "I'm not as much of a loser as you think I am, Y/N," the words were bitter; however, he felt like he was falling too deep.

Being this close to her, with her wide, surprised eyes staring back at him, her flowery perfume more prominent at the proximity, and her warm breath... He couldn't find it in him to deny it anymore, "Fuck, I do want this," he muttered, the whispered confession slipping past his lips before he himself could process the words.

At that, she wraps her arms around his shoulders, pressing his nose fully against hers, "I want this too." Her soft words drew him in like a moth to a flame and it felt like the string that held onto his sanity had snapped.

Mark pressed his lips to her glossy, pink ones that tasted like cherry, breathing in her flowery scent, to which she parted her lips against his in response. His hands gripped at the soft flesh of her waist, pulling her in impossibly close. He tasted minty, mixing with his musky cologne and it was like she couldn't think straight anymore, losing her grip on reality and, instead, losing herself in him. In Mark. Her supposed enemy and rival.

It didn't take long for her to pull him on top of her, her back falling against the mattress whilst her leg rode up his side, hooking over his hips. He trailed open-mouthed kisses down the column of her neck, nipping at her skin and down the valley of her clothed breasts. She was going insane, and it was his fault, "Mark, take off my damn shirt already," she groaned in frustration, sitting up.

He didn't waste any time. Stripping off her shirt, he subtly admired her plush breasts which sat pretty in her lilac laced bra, barely leaving anything up to his imagination. As much as she got on his nerves, he couldn't deny the effect she had on him by being effortlessly gorgeous even as her brows were tightly knit. He pushed her back down onto the bed, planting his hands on either side of her head, "Are you always this demanding?"

"Only with you," she mutters, tugging at his hoodie impatiently, to which he chuckles, taking it off. She couldn’t help but gawk at him, sending him a glare for being more attractive than her dreams could ever do justice.

He kisses her again, his hand trailing down the side of her breasts, not giving her time to run her mouth. Then, his hand pulls the bra down, letting her breasts slip out as he cupped and kneaded the soft mounds, groaning into her mouth at how they fit perfectly in his hand. He rolled the nub between his fingers, grazing his thumb over them.

Mark kisses down her body, taking a nipple into his mouth — biting and tugging at it as his hand continued to twist the other between his thumb and index. He relished in the soft sounds that escaped her lips and the way she tugged at the locks of his hair.

He continued to move down her body, his finger hooking under the waistband of her sweatpants as he met her gaze, "I know you beat my ass over this, but you sure this is what you want?"

She deadpanned at him, "You just made out with my breasts, Mark. If I didn't want this, I would have stopped you there."

Mark just rolls his eyes in response, slipping her sweatpants down, "Could have just said yes."

She's about to retort when she feels his hand cup her, finger tracing the clothed slit of her pussy and she has to bite her lip to stop her from making a sound. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction so soon. Didn't want him to know just how badly she wanted him — more than she'd like to admit.

However, Mark was as stubborn and competitive as she was, and he wouldn't hold back until she gave in. He pushes her underwear to the side, leaning in so that his warm breath fanned against her sensitive folds, causing her to whimper.

'Fuck,' she thought.

Mark, without warning, slowly licks a stripe up her slit, his flat tongue drawing out a shudder from her — back naturally arching. Each time, he'd go in for more, slowly bringing up the pace. Her thighs clamped around his head, holding him hostage until he groaned and grabbed onto her plush thighs, pinning them to the bed; fingers leaving marks along her soft skin. Her own fingers grabbed at anything they could, from the sheets beneath her, to the healthy lock of hair on his head, letting them knot around her digits and tug with every wave of pleasure he had given her.

She could feel his cocky smirk as he sucked on her clit, enjoying every moment of her falling apart on his mouth. Falling apart for him. When he pulls away from her, she let's out a frustrated whine to which Mark only laughs at, "Open your mouth."

She sends him a skeptical look, "Fuck no."

Mark's patience wears thin, "Don't be a stubborn brat now."

Surprisingly, she obliged and he pushes his fingers past her plush, kiss-swollen lips. Her mouth suckles on the digits, tongue swirling around them, and he retracts his fingers with a pop.

"Fuck, your mouth really does have uses other than spewing insults and demands," he teases, voice low, tracing her entrance which had her letting out shallow breaths.

"At least it has more use than your fingers-" her words cut short when he pushes his finger in, palm pressed to her clit as he looks up at her with a 'you sure about that?' look.

It doesn't take long for Mark to add a second finger, curling them in search for the spot that would make her see stars. And then, he finds it, and she let's out a sharp gasp which only grows louder when his lips wrap around her clit, continuing his earlier ministrations of lapping at her folds like a man starved.

Just as her dreams failed in visualising just how attractive her nemesis was, it had also failed in expressing how utterly, impossibly, and irritatingly good he was with his hands, lips, tongue-

"Mark, fuck-!" She starts to tense under him, eyes pierced shut as she chases that feeling of ecstasy.

"I believe I'm getting there...," Mark chuckles, the vibration of his voice fluttering against her.

And, just as she starts to see the twinkling behind her eyelids, the light at the end of the dark tunnel, and a glimpse of the heavens, Mark pulls away, leaving her empty, wanting, and embarrassingly needy.

Forget Haechan, Mark was the number one man on her hit list.

In a second, he's over her again, cupping the back of her neck and lifting her slightly up to kiss her. She can taste herself on his tongue, feel the way his lips apply just the right amount of pressure to say he's here, and it's so soft, so gentle, so wanting — it was the perfect contrast, the perfect contradiction to the image she'd created in her mind of him. His thumb brushes against her jaw, fingers tangling in her hair, before he pulls away, forehead resting on hers as he breaths against her.

His eyes flicker open to gaze down at her; warm and oh so inviting. It felt like the Mark she once knew. The genuine, loving and calming person. Though his next words threw her completely off balance, and she was quick to retract her claims.

"I'm going to fuck that sexy, infuriating attitude out of you, baby," he lets the pet name draw out. In every other context, with any other person, she would have cringed at that word, but it felt so undeniably attractive coming out of his lips, that she wanted to hear him say it more than once.

Mark got up off of the bed, pulling out his wallet to fish for a condom that had been in there for God knows how long, chucking it on the bed next to her and kicking off his jeans and boxers in record speed. She barely had a millisecond to admire the sheer length of him before he was on her again.

His deep brown eyes kept their hold on hers and she could see a subtle hint of affection; the space between his brows crinkling in focus as he slowly pushed into her. His calloused fingers pressed along her waist, leaving white marks along her curves, while she could feel every ridge, vein and pulse of his cock.

When he bottomed out, she immediately wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in impossibly close. Needing him closer to her. She could feel the rough planes of his body pressed to her soft ones as he started to rock against her. He gripped her thigh, pushing it further up so he could angle himself better, remembering the spot that had her seeing stars earlier.

Each time he'd hit that spot, she'd clench naturally, rocking her hips to meet his that had him softly groaning by her ear. He smelt so good, felt so good, was so good. She felt her mind start to fog up, jaw slack from the loud, erotic sounds that forced its way out from her throat. It was too much in the best possible way.

That wasn't as far as Mark would go though, he wouldn't stop at just good. He wanted best. His hand snakes up her body, gently wrapping around her neck — thumb pressed to her jaw — as he applied enough pressure to her pulse point. She knew then that maybe she did actually enjoy being choked or, at least, enjoyed anything Mark did.

She throws her legs around his waist, pulling him down, desperate to feel more of him, to reach her release she craved, pride long forgotten, "Mark... Mark, fuck- please..."

Mark pressed a sweet, uncharacteristic kiss to her cheek, "Please what, baby?" he brushed the strands away from her forehead, never halting his movements.

"Need more of you...," She could barely get the words out, but Mark knew exactly what she meant. Without time for her to process, he flipped her onto her stomach, pressing her face against the pillows, fingers tangled in her silky hair as he snapped his hips into her with more strength.

She could have sworn she started hallucinating seeing stars in the room from how deep he was reaching in this new angle, hitting her spot with added ease. Her glossy lips stayed parted against the pillows, drool staining the cotton case as she let out soft grunts.

Mark's head rolled back at the filthy sounds of her and how fucked out she looked. It made him want to carve this scene into the deepest part of his memory, "You're doing so good for me... So pretty like this."

His soft voice did not match the roughness of his fucking, but it made her clench around him, "C-close..."

Mark hummed, grabbing locks of her hair and tugging it back so that she arches against him, "Be a good girl and come all over my cock, then."

She nods eagerly, reaching behind him to grab at his hips, urging him to go faster, harder. She chased that release as if seeking closure from her pent up frustrations at Mark and hers usual bickering and challenges. She sits up to lean against him, knees pressed to the mattress and head rested on his collarbone — his own arms wrapping around her body. Finally, she came, body shuddering in his hold and, at the feel of her convulsing around his length, Mark bit her neck, muffling his sweet sounds as he followed suit.

They stayed like that for a while, panting, hair sticking to their foreheads. She wouldn't be close to exaggerating by saying this was the best sex she'd ever had, but she would also blame that on the sheer tension they carried for years around one another.

When Mark slips out of her, she fully expects him to make some usual smart comment, but he only pulls her with him as he lay in her bed, keeping his arms around her, "Who knew we'd be so compatible?"

She snorts, "I can name at least one person," she thinks of her best friend, the whole reason this night even happened and speeding up the process between them.

Mark smiles, snuggling into her and letting out a soft sigh, feeling sleep catching up to him, "I hope this isn't just a one time thing, though," he says suddenly with a soft voice, "you don't know how long I wanted this for. Wanted you. It drove me insane trying to be... I guess, respectful and casual about it all."

She sat up, turning to look down at him with a playful look of disbelief, "I call bullshit, you weren't respectful about nothing. Not that I'm complaining, it's attractive seeing you annoyed."

Mark rolls his eyes, smirking at her, his cockiness returning, "I knew you found me more than just objectively attractive, you're down bad."

She easily admits it, "Yeah, I am. But you're in way deeper for asking Haechan for advice of all people."

Mark immediately sits up, his face pale from the shock despite his cheeks being flushed, "Dude- Wait, what?"

"We're on dude terms now after you fucked an outline of my body into this mattress?" she scoffs, her crude words making Mark increasingly more flustered than he already was, "The choking kinda gave it away. I just know Haechan threw that in conversation with you."

Mark laughed sheepishly, pulling her into his chest as he pressed a kiss to her temple, "Guilty as charged. Though, I'm proposing we get back at his arrogant ass by not telling him a thing. We'll slowly drop hints to mess with him a little — see how long it takes for him to catch on."

"I'm in," She giggles, feeling sleep overtake her as she nestled into Mark's chest.

Before today, neither of them would have imagined that fucking each others rival would be the secret to finally ending the long-standing feud and breaking the rival code.

© hyckstarz

[finniestoncrane]

Virginal vault dweller reader you say?? I'd eat that up (and so would Cooper, heh) but seriously I would read the hell out of that if you're up for it <3

Different Up Here

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 6.3k anon thank you lmao i had already started drafting this, so vault dweller reader isn't quite a virgin but they are definitely inexperienced and have never known pleasure like the kind that cooper can offer 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: power imbalance, dubious consent because once you've said yes to cooper you can't change your mind, overstimulation, crying, oral sex, fingering, instructional, full penetration babiessss i realised i never tag that shit but yeah it's in here lmao, cumming inside, no protection, sweet coop afterwards but only briefly

If anyone else had asked you in that moment how you were, you couldn't have answered accurately without any hint of sarcasm and irritation. You were being worn down, like buildings by the sands of the desert. Each little molecule of your optimism being torn away from you, painful like plucking a hair. But when Cooper asked you, you tried your best to push down your knee jerk response.

"Let's see, shall we? Since leaving the vault a month ago, bravely in search of resources and supplies for my friends, I have killed, maimed, and eaten things I hope to never think of again. I'm in a constant cycle of very, very stressed and then very, very bored where there is no happy medium between fearing for my life and wishing for death. And oh, by the way, I'm sweating buckets the whole time because it's deathly fucking warm. Thank you for asking, Cooper!"

Instead, you shrugged and offered him at least a partial truth.

"It sounds silly... but I'm kind of bored."

A dry chuckle passed over Cooper's lips.

"Heh, that's a new one for out here."

Sensing an opportunity to at least get some conversation out of him, you sat up on the rusty bed frame, your body sinking into the almost entirely flattened mattress as you crossed your legs and did your best to get Cooper to talk more than a sentence at a time.

"Really? I would have thought you'd be bored a lot, especially when there's no raiders, or mirelurks, or scavengers, or feral ghouls, or super mutants, or roving gangs of-"

"See, this is why I'm never bored. Always somethin' or someone to be killin'."

"But what about like... now? When there's nothing else to do. There's no magazines, no books, no TV."

You watched as Cooper turned from you with a slight smile. You knew the one, the familiar grin that meant you'd divulged some information about your life in the vaults, something he always found so amusing. It was your naivety, your optimism. He was endlessly fascinated by it, as though listening to you talk about it reminded him of something he had before.

That fascinated you. It made you want to stay around him, the way he listened silently as you talked about the old films that were on the holotapes, the food that was still fresh and available, the music you could hear whenever you wanted to, not reliant on some two-bit radio host. He paid attention to you. And any time his deep, brown eyes focused on your lips it made your heart flutter in an admittedly unexpected manner.

Remembering that feeling, you tried again, hoping that your next approach might be something that interested him a little more than just conversation.

"You know how we used to pass time in the vaults?"

Over the sound of the evening breezes that whipped up the sand you could still hear Cooper sigh before he spoke.

"Now if you tell me that you wanna go out there again tonight to find an old blast radius board... well I am just going to have to shoot you."

You laughed at what you hoped was a joke and waved him off, despite the fact that he was still turned away from you, unable to see your gesture as he tried ignoring you in what you assumed was the hope that you might shut up and leave him alone.

"No, no no no no no. Just..."

The lump in your throat felt like it was about to choke you, so you swallowed the clump of nerves quietly, your voice trembling as you finished your sentence.

"... fooling around... y'know?"

Cooper turned to face you. You had piqued his interest, and you couldn't help but show the giddy glee on your face, the smallest smile crossing your lips as your eyes widened. But his words wiped away all hope that you had garnered in that short span of time.

"Oh... oh darlin'."

He laughed a little, each little sound of the short, sharp giggle like a slap to the face.

"I don't think you're ready for that at all."

You raised an eyebrow, defiant, irritated, and keen to know how he thought he had you pegged so quickly. You'd never talked about anything like that with him before. Was he assuming that you were a virgin based on how you behaved around him alone? Maybe he figured that the lack of flirting on your part was down to a complete lack of experience, when in reality, it was because every flirtatious quip he threw your way made you so nervous and flustered you felt like you might throw up.

"How come I'm not ready? I mean, I've... I've done stuff... I've done it!"

"The fat you're not saying it how it is makes me think that you are absolut-"

"I've had sex, Cooper. I've fucked before. I've been fucked."

Blinking off the irritation at being interrupted by you, Cooper pushed up the brim of his hat and stared directly at you, as though he was examining your, to see if you would stand up for yourself any further.

"By who? One of your little buddies underground? Fucking like little bunnies? I don't think that qualifies you, sweetheart."

"Why? Sex is sex..."

You said it with such confidence. As if you really knew. As if you hadn't spent your teenage years practising on your hand, holding a pillow close, lining up for that one girl in the vault who would sell practice kisses for extra bubble-gum. You'd had sex before, of course. You weren't a liar. Just because you'd only ever done it once didn't render it nonfactual. Just because it had only lasted for all of four minutes. Just because you weren't sure you even orgasmed, and your friend had told you that you'd know if you'd orgasmed. Just because it was all over so quickly, and he'd run off before anyone could catch you both, avoiding you at every opportunity after that.

"... Isn't it?"

"Oh no it ain't. Besides, like I keep telling you, it's different up here. Everything's different up here. And that includes fuckin'."

The way he said the word, consonants enunciated with such grit and vigour, filled your stomach with knots that began to tighten as you considered in what way things were so different.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

Cooper sighed, exasperated, resigning himself to the fact that you were going to keep talking to him regardless of his short replies and attempts to end the conversation.

"You are a dog with a bone, huh? Ain't gonna let it go."

His yellowed teeth were exposed as his lips pulled back in a baring, mischievous smile. Those knots doubled, the ends being pulled by tension in your nervous system as Cooper's smirk put you into a dazed stupor.

"No, sir."

"Now, I don't remember signing on to be your personal tutor in all things apocalypse. Do I really need to show you how everything works up here?"

As your cheeks began to blush, you nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, sir."

You were hopeful for just a bit of a distraction. Something to help take the stress away. To relieve the tension that had been building up between you and Cooper as of late. You'd been studying him, watching the way he looked at you, fascinated by your perceived, and frankly obvious, innocence. The way his fingers moved, contributing to the skilful way he handled his gun and his ropes. The confidence, the charisma, the charms.

You wanted him, but you weren't quite sure how to broach the situation without it seeming desperate. But you were past that now. You were desperate For anything, just something. Something to cure the monotony of walking and hiding and fighting and surviving. You didn't want to just survive. You wanted to at least find a semblance of fun and pleasure in this nightmare you had found yourself in. And in the vaults, when board games and books and debates got boring, there was always fucking. That was what you desired most right now. The fact that Cooper happened to be the closest target for your desires was just a sweet miracle, or a cruel tease depending on how willing he was.

And luckily, he seemed agreeable.

"Well then, how about you come over here and let ol' Coop show you a little thing or two about how dirty you can really get up here in the mean, dusty Wasteland, hm?"

Your excitement was palpable, even though you were trying to keep your composure. There was no escaping the echo of the giddy squeal you let out as you jumped up from the bed and made your way over to Cooper. He waited in the far corner of the room, setting himself down on an old armchair as you stepped towards him, slapping his thighs as an indication of where he wanted you. And you did as you were told, following his instructions, knowing they hadn't led you astray so far in your time together.

It felt awkward at first, being so close to him. You shifted your weight nervously, trying to get comfortable while making sure Cooper was still at ease, which of course, he was. He always was. Nothing stirred him, he was forever at peace. Competent in any situation. Quick to adapt. And as you fidgeted and fussed, you felt his strong hands pushing you forward on his lap, until your chests were practically pressed together, his hands skirting over your lower back as he held you still. In command. In control. The sudden sensation of his hands on your body made your breath hitch, a soft, surprised squeal on the inhale that had Cooper raising his brow at you.

"Now... you agree that you asked for this, alright? Because I am not going to put my effort into entertaining your little whims if you're gonna get fussy and decide it's too much for you. I did warn you."

"Yes, you did, and I really don't think you needed to. I doubt there's too much different about it, and I've picked up what I needed to know pretty quickly from your other lessons, haven't I?"

Your retaliation to his insistence that you needed him to teach you everything, and that some things just might prove themselves a little too hard even for your levels of enthusiasm, had irritated him when he'd first met you. But now your optimism and sheer refusal to believe anything was too much for you were a source of entertainment for him. A challenge.

"That's fine then, darlin'. But I'll remember that."

His eyes bore into your soul, keeping your focus on him as he dared you to look away. They sparkled as he ran his tongue over his lips, the pretence of preparing for his next words covering the obvious flirtation in the way he dragged the flat muscle along his chapped skin.

"So, gimme a benchmark here, lil lady. How much foreplay was involved in your previous encounters? I'd hate to leave you high and dry."

"Foreplay...? What... uh, what is that?"

Cooper sighed, rolling his eyes before closing his eyelids over gently.

"Well, it's something like this."

He pushed a loose strand of hair back behind your ear, rough fingers following the curve and grazing over your neck as he let them drift down the front of your chest, tickling the exposed skin as far as your jumpsuit would allow before he took a hold of the zip at the front. A quick flit of his eyes up to you seemed to ask for permission, and your small, almost imperceptible nod, told him to keep going.

Slowly, painfully so, he pulled the zip down, watching as the centre of your torso was slowly revealed to him. Smooth skin, in comparison to his anyway, clear of any unnatural blemishes or war wounds. One calloused digit followed down your sternum to your stomach and back up, hooking under the left side of the fabric and pulling it over, then the other, exposing the top half of your body to him.

Cooper traced his fingertips over the top of your breasts, watching as your chest moved in and out, slowly, but exaggeratedly. The knots in your stomach felt like they might burst with the tension as his sharp, ragged nails crossed over your hardening nipples, a gentle tingle coursing through your veins.

"Well?"

"No... n-nothing like that... just grabbing..."

"Oh yeah? You like that? How about this?"

He closed two fingers around your nipple, one hand still on your back to keep you balanced as your body reacted to his touch. Between the two digits, you felt your nipples heating up, the slight, burning pain from the way he squeezed them sending a signal down your spine that seemed to affect every part of you. Tighter, tighter, and then as your eyes closed a little more, eyelids pressed tight, he would ease up to offer some relief.

"You like that? Like it rough?"

"I think... I think I like both."

"So, something like this?"

He teased your nipples once more, pressing harder with his fingertips, pulling them out and jiggling your breasts as he tugged at them, this lewder act interspersed with a gentle caress as he held your breast against the palm of his hand, carefully cupping it as he flicked his thumb over the sensitive and completely erect nipple.

You bit your lip, trying to keep quiet, Coop's hand moved swiftly from your body to your cheeks, popping the lip back out as he pressed his thumb and forefinger into your face. Understanding the message, and seemingly showing this in your wide-eyed gaze, he let his rough, leathery hand make its way back down to your breast, cupping it once more as he spoke.

"Different, see? Pleasure is hard to come by out here. You gotta do it right when you've got the chance."

Cooper leaned into your neck, whispering the words low and slowly, his dry, chapped lips skimming over your skin as he continued.

"I bet down there they didn't know the first thing about real pleasure. Takes time, something like that. You gotta learn the body, gotta make it feel good."

His teeth grazed over your shoulder and back up along your neck before he pulled back, watching your eyes refocus from the haze of arousal.

"Did they make you feel good?"

"No."

You were confident in that statement. It hadn't felt good. It felt rushed. Clumsy. Shameful. And as you pondered it, your mouth remained open in a slight pout which trembled as Cooper asked his next question.

"And what about your pretty lips... did they kiss them?"

"A little..."

Cooper leaned in, his rough lips pressing onto yours with firm contact, his tongue staying in place as though he imagined that might be a bit too much for you right now. But that same level of restraint didn't keep him from letting his teeth catch onto your bottom lip, pulling it out, only letting go when you winced in surprise as the suddenness of the action.

"Didn't bite them either. Of course not, what am I thinking? That would be a little too adventurous for your kind."

His face took on a darker tone as he smiled knowingly towards you.

“And what about these pretty lips?”

Before you could piece together the question, his hand was diving into your jumpsuit, pushing down the front and past the waist, stroking against the front of your underwear which, by now, was soaking wet with your arousal.

“They touch these lips, huh?”

You gasped as he pushed your underwear to the side, stroking his fingers along your slick, plump pussy lips, withdrawing them soon after to taste you on his tongue, the way you had watched him taste the blood of enemies, the blood of victims.

“Stand up, darlin’… Why don’t you take that suit off, hm? Get yourself comfy.”

As you raised yourself up from his hips, your legs wobbled under you, not quite steady enough to support you so soon after being reduced to jelly by Cooper’s touch, his caramelised words that filled your ears, the sharp twang of his accent, the delicate cadence, the power rumbling underneath like an almost silent bassline.

“Do it slowly though.”

Cooper watched carefully as you stood nervously before him, shuffling out of your suit, stripping for him, your hips moving from side to side slow and steady, unintentionally sultry in the way you moved. Without taking his eyes from you he reached for his canteen, taking a long sip from it as you let your suit fall down over your legs, stepping out of it and pushing it to the side with your feet.

“That’s it, darlin’. Can’t do this half-hearted. I need to have access to all of you there. Now come sit back down.”

You held your arms in front of you, feeling far too exposed for the shelter you’d found for the evening. No windows, no locks on the doors. But it was difficult to focus on that worry for too long as you watched Cooper’s tongue flit back out over his lips, clear strands of drool sparkling in the light as he took you in, hungrily, dreamily.

“Turn around though. You face that way.”

The metal buttons on the front of his duster coat were cold against the skin of your back, but you leaned into them anyway. Cooper’s hand curved around your neck and up under your chin, holding your face forward.

“You keep an eye out, holler if you see anything coming. I’ll do everything else.”

A faint clicking sound, the safety on his gun being flicked to off, before those same fingers draped over your mound and down on to your lips, spreading them apart, the cool air of the decrepit room cooling the heat of your hot, aching cunt. With two fingers holding your lips apart, he let the middle digit tap against your clit, each tiny sensation turning your blood cold before heating it exponentially, a cold sweat beginning to form on your brow as you felt a tingle in your abdomen.

The finger that tapped the sensitive bud began stroking it from side to side, laying flat against it length wise as Cooper strummed your body, still holding your chin in his hands, smiling to himself every time your back arched away from him in intense pleasure. Every nerve-ending was at his mercy. He was right, it was different up here. But you wondered how much of that was the Wasteland and it’s effect on sexuality and pleasure, and how much of it was just him. Cooper Howard, Wasteland bounty hunter, a past life he refused to talk about, the most charismatic monster you had ever met. His fingers, daintily crossing over your clit, as you felt his breath, silent except for an occasional hum of satisfaction in the form of a long moan. Maybe it was just Cooper who was different.

It was hard to focus on this new line of though as his hard fingertips clamped down on your clit, pinching it as he rolled it between his fingers. Even harder when he let his hand drop from your neck and instead began teasing at your nipples once more. Soft, cruel flicks over the hardened bumps, his fingers at work on your body, his lips kissing at the back of your neck. Moans growing louder, more frequent, as he let himself enjoy the act of making you squirm. You could tell he was having fun, as you rolled your hips back a little, feeling the thick bulge of his stiffening cock against your rear. You wondered how it might feel, how it might look, and what he could do differently with it.

“Cooper… Coop… I think I’m going to cum…”

His movements quickened, cock twitching against your body as he pinched tighter and pressed his fingers harder against your cunt.

“Don’t you dare, little lady.”

“Ok I’ll… I’ll try but… you have to… stop… please stop… Coop…”

He ignored your please, the whining, desperate begging as you tried to stop your body from the natural, encouraged reaction.

“Have some self-control, sweetheart.”

“Cooper, I really can’t… please… please stop touching me…”

“I absolutely will not.”

Your fingers dug into his thighs, but you noticed that you refused to move away from him. You wanted to do as he asked, wanted to hold yourself back from the brink of orgasm to prolong his touch, but you couldn’t risk him actually stopping, fearing that your body might crumble if his fingers left your quivering, pathetic body for only a second.

Each stroke against your increasingly wet and sensitive pussy had you trembling and shaking, and Cooper had to remove his hand from your breast to keep you steady, placing it under your chin and holding you steady by the neck.

“I am warning you, missy.”

“Cooper… I can’t stop…”

You shuddered and whined as your body gave in to the temptation, feeling a rush of heat and relief as you came on his lap, your arousal coating his pants, adding to the collection of stains and wear on them. But he didn’t stop then.

“No wait… seriously, Cooper… I can’t… I can’t take much more, honestly…”

“Listen, I told you. I said you better not cum. I wasn’t done with you yet.”

Your eyes began to sting with tears of exasperation as your body kept on pushing to its limits, conjuring up another wave of climax, tormenting you with never-ending bouts of arousal that kept you rutting against him, despite how painful it was to keep writhing into his body. You could feel your stomach knotting again, not much time between each orgasm to relax, and you dug your hands into his thighs, pushing your body up off of him as you tensed completely.

“Ok, this time, you do it on my command. You do it when I say you can, alright?”

“Cooper…”

“Don’t give me that pleading shit, you asked me to show you how things are done. Well this is how Cooper fuckin’ Howard does things. So are you ready? You gonna come for me?”

“C-coop… I’ll… I’ll try…”

“Good girl, now you keep that mouth making those whines and moans. I don’t need you to call out my name or anything, I know I’m all you’re thinking about.”

The praise, the self-confidence, the way his fingers seemed to be pulling your orgasm out, motioning for it to come closer to him.

“Come on, darlin’, come on…”

Your vision blurred as the climax came over you, body rolling and convulsing as you came once more at Cooper’s insistence, your cheeks stained with tears, salted water rolling through the layers of grime and clearing paths to your chin.

As you settled back down onto his lap with a shudder, you felt Cooper’s fingers stroking through your hair. He was surprisingly gentle, oddly calm, but you supposed that you deserved his kindness as you had done as he had asked, making up for your previous indiscretion. He was almost cooing, shushing you as you found your breath, establishing your sense of self once more after the overstimulating orgasm that shook your core.

“You seen enough of the big bad world for one day then?”

You probably had, but you still found yourself shaking your head, ignoring the way your body reacted with a violent twitch at the notion of Cooper’s hands delivering intense pleasure.

“A glutton for punishment, hm? Or just keen to learn?”

As you pondered your answer, Cooper seemed to have come to the conclusion for you, as he tapped your hips and began to shift underneath you.

“Alright then, get onto your knees.”

Positioning yourself at his feet, you couldn’t help but look up at him, catching his eyes as he looked down at you with that unique brand of disdain and intrigue he had somehow mastered. You knew what was coming, what was about to happen, and your mouth began watering at the thought. What he might taste like. What he might look like.

You didn’t have to imagine for long though, as you could see his fingers working the belt of his pants, loosening it, unzipping his fly, and gripping his semi-erect cock at the base as he took it out, brandishing it. He kept close attention on your own eyes, a soft sigh of relief imperceptibly escaping his chest as he noticed your pupils widen, your mouth opening in preparation for him.

It was exactly as you had expected. The texture of the shaft was similar to that of his cheeks and his forearms, a similar colouring, though darker at the base and on the shaft which was tinted red. Thick, purple tinged veins covered it, winding around the length, cutting across the ridges of the scars.

“You can come closer, darlin’. I don’t know what they told you about mutations and radiation effects down there in your little utopia, but I can assure you… it doesn’t bite.”

The fear was palpable, clearly, but it was nothing to do with Cooper’s body and everything to do with your lack of experience, which, despite you arguing otherwise, was becoming plainly obvious even to you. You had only ever touched a cock with your hands outside of being quickly fucked. Several times you’d been cajoled into quickly stroking an erection under the blankets before your partner ran off to the bathroom, clean and tidy, flushing away the sins. And you were very well aware that there was always the option to suck on one, but it had never presented itself. It had never seemed that appealing to you. Until you were faced with Cooper’s.

He hadn’t even asked you to do either yet, but you found yourself curious, salivating over the thought of him, mind racing as you imagined how he might feel against your tongue.

“Can I taste it… you?”

Cooper smiled warmly, one of the few times you had seen him look at you with genuine pride.

“Now that is using your initiative. Of course you can.”

You kept your hands to yourself as you leaned in towards his body, content to let Cooper wield his length at you, his hand firm around the base as you inched closer, tongue pressed out over your lips. A strand of drool collected and spilled forward, hitting the floor in a soft patter just before the tip of your tongue came into contact with the tip of his cock.

A lot of the movements were instinctual, following your desires more than what you thought might be protocol as you dragged your tongue up the shaft and swirled over the blushing head of his cock. It tasted bitter, but in a pleasant way.  Savoury, not sweet. Salted, a tang that stayed there for a few seconds after your tongue had moved on to another spot. A flavour you found yourself craving now.

Cooper gripped tighter and pushed forward, taking you by surprise as he slid himself into your mouth, his free hand moving to the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair. As the taste of him hit the back of your tongue, cock almost touching your throat, you coughed and spluttered a little.

“Fuck me, darlin’… do you need me to show you how to do this too?”

He looked down at you, filled with pity as he saw your face. Red cheeks, puffed out, lips stretched over the girth of his cock, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to breathe.

“Breath through your nose… breathe in…”

You followed his instructions, instantly calmed when you found your lungs filling with air once more. Almost immediately back to enjoying yourself, the feeling of Cooper inside of you, the control he had as he held your head against him.

“Now… you don’t want to choke too much, so keep your tongue flat… yeah, just like that…”

It was so much easier like that, and you could feel your cheeks getting warmer and redder as you realised that not only had you embarrassed yourself with your spluttering and lack of knowledge, but that Cooper had clearly done this a lot.

“And your teeth… well, usually they’ll tell you to keep ‘em outta the way, but you know me… gotta be different…”

Taking the hint, you let your jaw close slightly, the pain of the stretch lessened, your teeth scraping along the top of his shaft as your tongue worked the underneath, sucking and rolling as much as you could while keeping it flat.

He didn’t say much else, and you couldn’t tell if he was particularly enjoying himself. It worried you, the fact that he had specific preferences, the way it was so clear how much more experienced he was than you. How many others had there been? And were they all better than you? As your mind wandered to your anxieties, you completely missed the fact that you had begun to drool all over yourself until Cooper relaxed his grip on your head and wiped at your chin with his thumb. Catching your eyes and sensing some of your worries, he was surprisingly quick to soothe you.

“You can swallow or spit or let it all spill out, I don’t mind makin’ a mess darlin’. But whatever you’re doing, you keep that up.”

You were so pathetically grateful for the encouragement, for the tiniest semblance of praise, that you felt yourself moaning involuntarily. The soothing motion of sucking on his cock, the taste of something new, the comforting knowledge that he was happy with your efforts. You could feel your clit throbbing, aroused by Cooper’s satisfaction, how pleased he was with the way you worked him over.

Which is why it surprised you so much when he pulled his cock from your mouth, your lips slipping off of it with a disgustingly lewd popping sound, drool spilling onto your chin in long strands which stretched from your lips to his cock and tore apart as he distanced himself from you.

And again, that sympathetic gaze, the way he could tell what you were thinking before you even said it.

“Oh, don’t you look at me with those big, sad eyes. You got nothin’ to worry about, sweetheart. That was good, ‘specially for a first try…”

He winked to you as he spoke, causing your heart to skip enough beats that you thought you might die there and then.

“… It’s just that I’m all slicked up and ready to go now… so you wanna bend over for me? Or do you wanna come sit on my lap?”

“Uh… lap, please… I was kinda bent over for the last… first time.”

“Well, you come and take a seat then, darlin’, let ol’ Coop show you something new.”

You nervously settled your entirely nude body back down onto his thighs. Cooper’s hands were gentle against your shoulders as he pulled you backwards with him, leaning at a slight angle in the chair, his cock rigid and firm as it sat against your waiting cunt, coated in your drool which almost seemed to shimmer with the dancing light of the fire.

Then, so carefully, so gently, far more than you’d ever seen him be before, Cooper took hold of his cock at the base and slid it inside of you, one hand on your stomach as he braced you, keeping your body steady as he inserted himself further and further between your clenching walls.

“Bigger than before?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you felt the distinct stretch, his rough, textured cock forcing its way inside your cunt, pressed up to the hilt, testing your limits.

“Better?”

“Mhm…”

“Speak up, darlin’.”

With your voice strained and breathy, you managed to form some words.

“Yes… it’s better.”

“That’s it, good girl. Now, I’m gonna buck my hips, ok? You just try and keep your balance.”

Below you, Cooper shifted a little, his hips rolling backwards, inches of his cock escaping your tight, aching cunt, before he rolled them forwards and upwards, back into you. A slow, steady pace that he focused on keeping until you felt warmer, more relaxed.

“You got this, it’s like riding a horse.”

“I’ve never… hm… ridden a horse…”

Cooper chuckled, a low and rasping sound that sent shivers over your skin and seemed close enough to you that it was coming from inside of your body.

“Never ridden a ghoul before either, but you’re handling it alright for a first timer.”

You were coping ok, you had to admit, but you could feel your stomach muscles tensing, the knots back in full force as they tensed and tightened, loosened and frayed with each pump of his cock within you.

“Ah… Cooper…”

“Too much, darlin’? Does it hurt?”

There was a sense of genuine care in his tone, as though he had taken it upon himself to show you that yes, things were different up there in the Wasteland, but that didn’t always mean they were worse. Some things were good, if not a little bit difficult to take at first.

“A little…”

Cooper tilted your chin up, forcing your head to lean back completely against his shoulder. In a delicate move, one far more romantic than you imagined from him, he ran his thumb over your lips, angling his neck to look at them, his own mouth open ever so slightly, a monotonous panting as he kept his hips moving, increasing the speed and the force at which he entered you.

His eyes flicked up suddenly, looking into yours, catching your gaze and holding unblinking eye contact as he spoke.

“I know… I know… Just a little longer, though…”

He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of his cock pushing against your body, enveloped in your hot, wet, velvety interior.

“I know it hurts… but I ain’t stopping, so don’t even ask… here…”

You watched as he brought a finger to your lips, offering it up to you.

“…you bite down on that if it gets too much, ok… but don’t hold back on those sweet sounds… I wanna hear you scream.”

With that vaguely threatening remark, he thrust up into you, banging against your body, spurring on your orgasm but unleashing a dull ache that spread through every sensitive part of you.

“Won’t… be long… keep it together… good girl…  good girl…”

It felt good, the pain, the sting, the ache, the shivers. The fact that he was using you, finding pleasure in you. All of it culminating in Cooper’s nearing orgasm which you could sense was closing in on him. His movements were becoming more frantic, sloppier, and he was mouthing all manner of sweet nothings as he let his façade slip away.

And those soft mumbles opened up into a wide roar as he clung to your body, the hand on your neck cutting off the air to your lungs only briefly, one hand on your lap pressing sharp indents into your skin as he forced himself into you. The last few moments of his fevered thrusting, fucking you wildly, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth as he rutted into you in a dazed stupor before his body gave in. His cock throbbed, each pulse sending another rope of cum against your insides, filling you with his seed as he shuddered finally, slinking backwards into the chair and taking in a deep breath as you removed yourself from him.

You’d only managed to take a few steps forward before Cooper addressed you, opening his eyes to watch you standing there awkwardly, his cum dripping down your thighs, a warmth that quickly turned cool in the air of the room.

“Did I say you could get up?”

Panic settled in your chest, aware that you had waited until you felt his muscles relax, his body retreating from you, before you slid off his cock, expecting him to push you away anyway, like your first time. You assumed he was finished, and you weren’t sure you were ready for the idea that he might not be done with you.

“Are we… oh, Cooper, I really can’t take anymore.”

Even as you stood, you could feel your legs shaking, weakened by the intense orgasms, the way they tightened against his every movement.

“That’s different up here too then, I suppose.”

Cooper stood up from the chair, pacing towards you with a purposeful stride as he pushed his cock back into his pants, zipping them up as he reached you. You inhaled sharply as he placed his hand at the back of your head, those knots in your stomach beginning to form again, worried that a further, albeit pleasurable punishment was on the cards. But you were surprised as he slid his free hand around your back, tugging at your waist as he pulled you in close to him. A quick smile before his lips were on yours, the brim of his hat pushed upwards as he leaned into the kiss. Warm, gentle, the kind of kiss you’d seen in movies. Practised and confident, meaningful, sincere.

When he pulled back, your body following him a little before you settled back onto your feet, he smiled warmly.

“Sweet with the sour, darlin’. You gotta keep ‘em wanting more.”

“M-more?”

More as in now? Or more as in the idea that Cooper had enjoyed himself and would be willing to offer that kind of pleasure to you again. And he answered with a wink.

“Definitely. There’s a still a lot you’ve got to learn.”

[changeling-droneco]

Hi I'm that person who made the original post about "no doesn mean no" when a small bit of the mr beast company document was leaked, well, now we have the full document (thanks rosanna) so I'm going to go over it. Please note I am not a lawyer or a business man, I'm in college for psychology, so I might misunderstand some things or make the wrong conclusion. However, if this is a document made for the average mr. beast employee, if I cannot understand it properly, then im sure some employees also struggled

First of all, the opening paragraph. Like I get it's supposed to be like, to put people at ease, but

This is so strange? Like, first of all, this is your EMPLOYEE MANUAL, you should have run it through like, a spell check? Or had someone edit it? This is already incredibly unprofessional. Also the promising of a thousand dollars if you pass a quiz on it? It's bizarre and I'd love to see if it's an actual quiz.

Jimmy, hun, please god get an editor for this you're already trying my patience.

YOU SHOULD, you genuinely should, while interconnected these are all COMPLETELY different jobs, if you think you could write a separate manual for each branch you SHOULD

I'm sure I'm about to get an answer but what the fuck is the best YOUTUBE video then? If it's not comedy, its not production, its not quality, its not look, then what the hell is left? (monetization, it's monetization)

First of all, Jimmy, why are you using internet lingo in this, it's not a text message, this is not a place for, idc, and lol, and not capitalizing your headers correctly??? Also like I said, he's chasing trends for monetization, and also he's just wrong, there are plenty of hollywood level shows and the like on youtube. You fully admit you do not care about trends and actively rush things?

This is just fucked??? Like of COURSE IT MATTERS??? Results based company is bullshit, your employees that worked for five weeks and failed aren't "lesser" then James, it's a structural failure! They still worked for HOURS to try and succeed?? That shows merit and loyalty??? What the fuck???

Rosanna covers this one in her video but it's worth restating that this is FUCKED??? It's clear overwork "your job is your family" culture. Especially the use of the word obsessive? If you do not OBSESS over your work, you are considered poisonous. NO WONDER we have so many reports of employees doing things they feel is dangerous or unsafe, if they don't they're considered POISON to the company.

The formatting in this doc continues to fucking kill me, what are you DOING man GET AN EDITOR

This feels like such an easy fix of just...make the thumbnail after the fact? Or only make a rough draft of one first? Like if production makes a red bouncy castle instead of a yellow one, that feels like an easy fix to the thumbnail OR a communication error, and again, that's on management

A lot of the next stuff is like analytics stuff that for the most part I can't really speak on as someone who does not do any of this stuff. There are a few things though

Which like???? what??? a lull??? what do you mean "watching a video without even realizing they are watching a video??" That doesn't scream good or even mediocre content to me. If I'm actively tuning out as I watch a video, that's bad. Especially because there have been plenty of times I've been like half way through a video i go "hey this sucks actually" and click off. They actively want their audience to not be paying attention to the video so it runs all the way through, that's kinda pathetic.

I don't actually know if this is common or not in this industry, but as an outsider this seems INCREDIBLY micromanaging to me, to an immense degree.

Jimmy why are you putting swears in your employee manual?? sir??? and also something about this whole thing icks me out, I don't quite have the words but the whole emphasis on "im different im special no one else can be me" just reeks of something kind of manipulative

Why is production changing so much Jimmy??? Infinite growth is the mindset of a cancer cell Jimmy! This is incredibly unstable working conditions! Also again with the word obsession, if you take time out of your own day on your own time to watch hulu, that's seen as not being obsessed enough for the company. This is nonsensical!

Again, this is INSANELY micromanaging, and also so fucking unhinged??? "God himself couldn't stop you from making this video on time" is NOT a healthy work mindset, things HAPPEN!!!

In this segment he's actually talking normal things but I did just want to highlight his use of "freaken" who the hell puts that in an EMPLOYEE MANUEL

Again with the micromanaging, and the immense pressure on employees for problems OTHER people do. While he's not fully wrong that you should be in more contact with the contractor then the example, this is too much in the other direction. How much time in the day does he think people have?!

My kingdom for a fucking paragraph break dude, my fucking eyes. Also this is a lot of "im so great and do everything and you should do more for me and if i dont know something that's your fault" for something titled "I am not always right"

I'm getting lazy with my highlighting, but again, the micromanaging? If you're SOOO busy, the first question should be the ideal? it's quick and makes a quick decision, while the second one meanders and meanders

Again, Jimmy is pushing blame for HIS mistakes on OTHER PEOPLE. For again, a section called "i am not always right" hes taking NO accountability for that and just making the SAME excuses he's berating in other places.

I can't even tell what he means here AN EDITOR JIMMY

Autism Hell tm, PLEASE email me so I can DOUBLE CHECK IT, things in writing are SO useful

Again the language towards "C-Players" which as mr beast has said, are the people who y'know, are NORMAL employees who DON'T live and breathe this company

Okay first of all, a Lamborghini is like 300k so that's already A REALLY hard task, and i sure hope don't usually put typos in the tasks. SECOND of all the fact he thinks its okay to go "hey if the studio is literally on fire around you and you stop working to get the Lamborghini, you're not doing good enough" even if he claims it as a joke is NOT OKAY what the FUCK

We've covered this before, but to reiterate this segment is named after a sexual assault reference when it could have been named ANYTHING ELSE and harasses employees and pressures them to break rules, don't do that.

I'm not an editor, so maybe this is normal, but as someone from the outside it seems strange to put this much emphasis on dividing focus between so many videos at once.

Jimmy, hun, are you paying extra for this? Because if I'm an editor and you want me FILMING stuff then i want to be paid more for doing TWO jobs and I probably still wont be as skilled a TRAINED CAMERA MAN

First of all now THAT'S a type, consteatants. Also the fact they are aware that leaving contestants out in the sun is bad, why are you not doing MORE TO STOP IT BEYOND "hey maybe giving them three hours of heatstroke is bad, try only two next time"

Don't we love favoritism, more shitty unprofessional writings, and a completely unstable work environment?

If your people have to pull all nighters period something is wrong, and if something happens to an employees car that could have seriously hurt someone, i sure hope you care more then just "LOL FUNNY" Who's picking up the broken glass? Who's reimbursing the car owner? That one meme of "your first care should be commitment to the bit" is a MEME jimmy, it's not ACTUAL ADVICE

Ah shit I hit image limit, well, you've seen enough screenshots to know these are screenshots, we're almost done I'll put them in as quotes

"Let’s say you are tasked with finding us a castle to live in for 50 hours and while doing research you find a castle and a number to call for the owner. So you do call, and he answers. Only problem is he says he quit the castle renting business to pursue his dream of building a 100 foot tall lego catapult. You can obviously tell where i’m going with this. Ideally you’d recognize that’s badass as fuck and try to convince him to let us use it when we do find a castle. This is a bad example because it’s so obvious but if you’re doing your job right you will be doing an absurd amounts of calls and data collecting. While trying to complete your prios and prepare for the video you should always be on the lookout for new things you can bring to your creative team to inspire them. Because just like me, they don’t know what they don’t know and you can’t just say “i’m in production and i’m not very creative” because that’s literally the equivalent of saying I suck at what I do. You also need to apply this same mindset when problem solving because many people lose sight of this stuff when in the weeds. If a problem appears, always always always ask yourself if your new plan is whats best for creative, not just the easiest bandaid."

First of all it's really funny seeing all the red lines pop up, second of all this insistent blurring of everyone's job seems so strange? Again maybe this is normal, but it really feels like Jimmy wants everyone working every job, instead on focusing on what they are actually hired to do.

"What is the goal of our content?

To excite me. The goal of our content is to excite me. That may sound weird to some of you, especially if you’re new but to me it’s what’s most important. If I'm not excited to get in front of that camera and film the video, it’s just simply not going to happen."

That's fucking weirddddd, like I get that he's trying to be like "im authentic" but it always feels like a bad sign when the goal of a company is literally just "What amuses the boss" like...bad sign

"this is youtube and there are constraints. You know the video can’t be a minute so you’re obviously going to need a story to hold the viewers and there are rules to storytelling. Our audience is massive and because of that you have to be simple, for 50 million people to understand something it must be simple. Content can be anything but there is structure and rules that we must mold it into that I want to teach you about, because virality doesn’t just happen. Every frame of our videos will be seen by 10s of millions of people"

Gross

"I'd say the average MrBeast viewer is a teenage memer that likes video games."

Mr Beast is completely aware of his demographic and puts screen shots of it, he is very aware his stuff is aimed at kids, even when its about gambling or hiring people not around near minors

"I feel silly for having to write this but all the time I talk to 32 new people that have at most seen like 5 or 6 of our videos and it’s mind blowing that they don’t see a problem with that lol."

It's almost like your audience is teenage memer and that people who working here are not in fact, teenage memers.

"What you consume on social media, when you watch youtube, tv, the games you play, etc. are what I like to call your information diet.

How do you stay up to date on the latest memes? How do you know what’s going on with celebrities? What’s trending on youtube? What other creators are doing? What’s popping on tik tok? Your information diet. Consume things on a daily basis that help you write better content."

If my job as a creative writer had my boss tell me to have to see whats "popping on tik tok" as part of my job i'd quit also again, the micromanaging of someone's life as well pops up again, it's weirddd

"It’s okay for the boys to be childish

If talent wants to draw a dick on the white board in the video or do something stupid, let them. (assuming they know all the risks and arn’t missing context on why it’s not safe) People like when we are in our natural element of stupidity. Really do everything you can to empower the boys when filming and help them make content. Help them be idiots"

More favoritism

"If you’ve made it this far you are probably at least semi interested in this being your career. So I wanted to chat about it. Because if you're ambitious and want to dedicate your life to work, you picked the best company in America to do it at. I really don’t care to hoard a bunch of money and I deeply believe in rewarding the people that help this business get where it needs to be. But before I get into that, let’s talk about the future. As I write this we have 2 teams, that will grow to 4 in the next year. (and possibly 8 in the next 2 years but I can’t talk about that cause james will kill me haha). We need more leaders in the company. Weneed hard working, obsessive, coachable, intelligent, grinders that can step up and take some of these leadership spots over the next 2 years. Every single department has an opportunity for you to grow in and you’re in luck because we don’t do yearly reviews. We do whenever the fuck you want reviewes"

Lack of communication from management, and more emphasis on grinding and crunch culture, goodie, all while riddled with typos! God.

"I see a world where this company is worth billions and one day 10s of billions. And those of you that help build this will be rewarded. I want nothing more then for you to go all in, obsessive all day everyday, and become so god dam valuable this company can’t operate without you. And in return for becoming so valuable I hope to give you incredible experiences, a fun place to work, and of course, more money then you could ever dream of making at any other company."

I feel like I'm reading a fucking pyramid scheme document here, "youre so so valuable spend literally every minute of every day on this company haha" good GOD man

[urfavblond1e]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐭 ♡︎

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ৹ you and megumi have been dating for nine months. you're happy. he's happy. you're perfect for each other. the only issue? he craves affection and he's not sure how to ask for it.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 ৹ megumi x fem!reader, shy megumi, fluff, very very slight angst, cuddling, yuji and nobara mention (they share one braincell).

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ৹ 1.4k

𝐚/𝐧 ৹ sorry I haven't written in a while, i'm currently on vacation and haven't been writing. this was in my drafts so I figured I'd post it. I'll be back soon with some more. I hope you enjoy! hearts divider by @/s-h-o-w-y

You and Megumi had been dating for quite a while now. Just two weeks ago, you had your nine-month anniversary together and you were the happiest you had ever been.

The relationship was very low-key. PDA was almost non-existent—the most he’d ever do in public was hold your hand and even then, he kept his hands to himself most days.

Affection was present in your relationship but you mostly had to ask for it. He’d give it to you without a second thought but he rarely initiated any form of affection besides a few hugs or kisses here and there.

To be honest—it bothered you at first as you believed it was something about you that made him not want to be affectionate but then you realized it was just hard for him to show physical affection because he never really knew how. He was an amazing boyfriend—he just had some struggles.

You were fine with this now and it didn’t bother you, knowing that he still loved you very much.

But what you didn’t know was how badly this affected Megumi. His fear of initiating physical affection was eating him alive from the inside out.

Megumi had a lot of emotions—believe it or not—but he didn’t know how to handle all of it so he just shoved it all down where nobody could find it. He never learned how to deal with any of it so it seemed like the only quick solution.

His mother passed away at a young age and affection or even emotion (besides anger, disappointment, or his father being unamused) was not common from his father and stepmother. Growing up he got the occasional pat on the head or a hug from Gojo and his older sister Tsumiki tried her best to show her love for him when she could—but that had ended all too soon.

He would never admit it but he absolutely craved affection—specifically from you. The poor boy was so touch-starved. His heart soared whenever you asked for a hug or to lay down together. And it tore away at his heart how badly he wanted to ask you for love but for some reason, he was scared to do so.

But one thing about Megumi was that he was persistent and he was going to get through this and overcome his anxiety one way or another. After all, you were already his girlfriend. What could possibly go wrong?

Right now, you were on a walk with him, Nobara, and Yuji. Shoko had insisted on the four of you going out and getting some sun and none of you were about to argue with the intimidating school doctor so you all quickly got out there.

You walked alongside Megumi while Nobara and Yuji goofed off a couple of feet ahead of the two of you, not paying attention to either of you at all. Megumi quietly walked with a stoic expression, keeping his hands in his pockets. He had barely said anything but that’s because his mind was racing.

You didn’t mind it at all as long as you were with him. Megumi’s gaze kept flickering down to your hand, which was at your side as you walked. He wanted to just reach down and grab your hand tightly but something stopped him. Why? He had no idea.

You were his girlfriend, he had held your hand before and nothing happened. So why would it be any different now? Anxiety over simple things never made anyone think sensible thoughts. But it was enough to make him nervous to simply reach out and grab your hand.

And the worst part? You had no idea. You simply kept walking with a big smile on your face as the two of you walked together.

Before he could stop himself, he just took his hand out of his pocket and grabbed your hand rather abruptly, not saying a single thing as if trying to ignore what just happened.

You were a little stunned—just because it was so sudden. And he had just grabbed your hand rather than lacing his fingers together with yours or something like that so you looked at him with a little bit of confusion. “Megumi?” You asked.

Noticing your eyes on him, he just avoided eye contact, feeling his cheeks heat up for some reason. All he was doing was holding your hand! Well, more like gripping it at this point.

“You don’t have to grip my hand like that, I’m not going anywhere.” You chuckled, trying to make him loosen up a bit so you could intertwine your fingers with his. Really, you were just glad that he was holding your hand and had done it himself.

Megumi didn’t reply but his grip loosened up so you could intertwine your fingers with his, properly holding hands now. You gave his hand a little squeeze and a reassuring smile. To be honest, it was really cute to see him like this but you weren’t going to say anything about it and just decided to leave it as it was.

Holding hands—it was such a simple thing but Megumi’s heart felt like it was racing. He was proud of himself for initiating things but boy was his heart pounding.

But feeling his skin against yours was so nice; feeling the warmth of your hand against his, it was so comforting. Goodness, he loved you so much. He just didn’t know how to say it sometimes.

The two of you held hands until you got back to the school. Nobara and Yuji rushed inside, not wanting to be out in the heat anymore while you and Megumi took your time getting inside. Sometimes you believed Nobara and Yuji shared one brain cell between each other—and they probably did, to be honest.

Megumi’s hand fell from yours when you got inside, which was okay, you were going to sit down to cool off anyway.

You made your way inside and to one of the rooms, walking over to one of the couches. Thankfully you had nothing else going on for the rest of the day so you could just practically pass out on the couch for a little while.

Before you sat down, you looked at Megumi, who was just standing there looking at you. “You okay, sweetheart?” You asked, slightly confused. He had been acting odd all day and it confused you. What was going on?

Again, no reply. Instead, you felt his hands suddenly grab your waist and pull you close to him, his arms enveloping you in a big hug. You stood there stunned for a moment before wrapping your arms around him tightly. It was clear that he really needed this hug.

“Megumi—,” You spoke but he cut you off.

“Don’t say anything.” He said softly, “Just don’t say anything.” He breathed out, not wanting to be asked any questions right now. All he wanted to do was hold you.

With you still in his arms, he moved and sat down on the couch, putting you on his lap and burying his face into the crook of your neck. It was so comforting, so nice. He just wanted to stay like this forever, in the safety and comfort of your arms.

You were still stunned that he was doing this but you didn’t question a thing, continuing to keep your arms locked tightly around him. Eventually, your hand made its way up to his scalp, gently raking your nails through his hair. You could feel him practically melt into your touch and you let out a little chuckle.

“Cute,” You mumbled, your voice could barely be heard.

Megumi let out a little huff and just kept his arms around you, his cheeks warm from embarrassment.

You weren’t sure how long you two were like that and eventually, you had somehow shifted to where the both of you were laying down, still holding each other in your arms. Megumi had practically fallen asleep, comfortably cuddled up right in your arms.

And he would’ve fallen asleep—had Yuji not walked into the room and seen the two of you lying together on the couch. Poor, innocent Yuji who could physically never bring himself to be quiet. “Ooh, Fushiguro! Getting comfortable with [name] there huh?” He said lightheartedly, thinking nothing of it. He really was just teasing.

Within an instant, Megumi was sitting up with an unamused expression, reaching to grab the nearest thing he could, his face pink and flushed “Shut up!”

Yuji was out of that room within seconds, just barely dodging the magazine Megumi had thrown at him.

[niningtori]

make you cry | part one

part two: beomgyu's ending | part three: hyuka's ending

pairing: beomgyu x you, huening kai x you in alternate ending

summary: beomgyu is your manwhore best friend who you've been secretly in love with for years. one night, he asks you to blur the lines between friendship and physical intimacy for his own convenience.

genre: ANGST, romance, smut (mdni), fwb

warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, creampie, dom!gyu, eventual sub!gyu, fingering (vaginal), dacryphilia, dirty talk, praise, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 4.2k

notes: hi friends! i'm not completely satisfied with this, but i'd rather it be done than sitting in my drafts. pls don't be mean ;_;

being in love with your best friend is not for the faint of heart, you think. in some cases, it’s the easiest thing in the world, but beomgyu makes it difficult. he’s not a bad guy, at least not deep down, but as you watch him break the heart of another notch in his belt, you can’t help but shiver at the fact that he’d very easily do the same to you if you gave him that chance. not that you ever will, that is, but the thought still remains.

you met in grade school. for you, it was a classic case of love at first sight. you had just fallen off the swingset and the teacher had yet to notice you, so you were crying alone when he came up to you with a dinosaur bandaid in tow. he looked like an angel with the sun encircling him, and even as a child, you thought he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen as he held his little hand out for you to grasp. you had no chance to steel your heart when he asked you if you wanted to be friends, and after that, the rest is history. 

that was years ago, but the image of him holding out his hand is engraved in your bones. you think about it even now as you watch him make the poor, unfortunate girl in front of you bawl like a baby. she asks him why he's doing this, what she did wrong, how she can fix it to make him stay. but he's dead set on breaking her heart tonight. and you'll be the one who takes his tipsy ass home after he's done ruining this girl’s perception of love. you’re nothing more than a glorified lackey and enabler, but that's just how it is.

“god, i don’t know why they can never just let go. they always have to make it so hard,” he grumbles in the passenger’s seat of your car. he seems more annoyed than genuinely upset and you can’t help but to feel for the girl who he just unceremoniously dumped in the middle of a house party, so you speak up for once.

“it’s not her fault, beoms. she just really likes you,” you reason. not that it matters, anyway, but you feel better after speaking your mind.

“so it’s my fault? i just don’t get it. i told her no strings attached from the beginning. the fact that she took it seriously is her own problem.” well, nevermind about feeling better. you feel even worse for her now.

“it’s hard not to get attached to you,” you mumble.

“what?” he asks, not even really paying attention to what you’re saying, but still asking for the sake of being (what he thinks is) polite.

“no, it’s nothing,” you reply quickly.

“mmm,” he nods, completely preoccupied with his own issues to really give a fuck about what you have to say. then, as if by a stroke of genius, he says his next words without much thought.

“i just thought of something! you would never act like that with me, would you?” you can’t help but scowl. of course you’d act like that. you’re a normal human being with normal feelings. you’ve already fallen for beomgyu without the physical intimacy, so you can’t imagine how you’d act if you actually had sex with him. but you can’t tell him that, or else he’d start suspecting something.

“i guess not,” you sigh. 

“then why don’t we hook up instead?” he asks, genuinely earnest. 

“no,” you say simply.

“why not?” he frowns, somewhat offended.

“i’m not interested,” you shrug. you don’t realize that your indifference has the opposite effect on beomgyu. what he perceives as your disgust only interests him more.

“c’mon, i’d definitely show you a good time,” he argues.

“i’m fine, thanks.” 

“no, you’re not fine. you haven’t slept with anybody in months. not since what’s-his-name, right? it’s the perfect deal. i’ll give you the time of your life and i’ll get to fuck without any feelings involved.” you try your hardest not to say it’s too late for that. those words will never leave your mouth, though. or else he’d drop you like a hot potato.

“i said no and i mean no. besides, i kind of like somebody right now.” you’re not lying, really. you truly do like, even love, somebody right now, and he’s sitting right next to you.

“who is he?” he asks. “actually, your taste in men is so shit, i don't even wanna know.” usually, that would hurt your feelings, but this whole situation is so fucked up you can’t even find it in you to stifle your laugh. 

“true.” he cocks an eyebrow at your answer. you should, in theory, vehemently deny this. just how shitty is this guy for you to not even put up a fight? 

“okay, i lied. now i really wanna know. who is he? yeonjun?” he asks. you giggle even more.

“no. yeonjun is sweet, but no. and i’m not telling you, so you should give up.” 

“you think yeonjun is sweet in comparison? damn, this guy must be fucking scum,” he laughs. you can’t help but shake your head with an airy laugh of your own. yeah, he’s so awful he even makes yeonjun look sweet. at least it seems like yeonjun has a conscience when he fucks somebody over. beomgyu, for the most part, has none.

“he’s not all bad,” you say softly, still smiling and resting your head on the headrest of your car. 

“but still bad,” he argues. 

“mhmm,” you hum. “still bad.”

-

beomgyu doesn’t mention hooking up again after that, and for that you are thankful, you think. is there a part of you that regrets not saying yes? in a way, you do. who wouldn’t want to be even closer to the one they love? but you know the closeness would be a lie. even if you were in closer proximity physically, he’d still be far away emotionally. too far to ever catch him. and so you sit at the counter of this shitty bar and watch him try to woo one of the prettiest girls you’ve ever seen, and by the looks of it, it’s working. you smile bitterly and down another shot, making your stomach feel hotter and hotter. you know that by the end of the night, you’ll feel sick, but you’d rather be physically sick and drunk rather than emotionally sick and sober. 

“you okay?” kai asks, sliding into the seat next to yours and cutting into your daze with ease. 

“aren’t i always?” you answer with a wry smile.

“it’s that bad, huh?” he asks. beomgyu is your best friend, sure, but kai is the only person in the world who knows about your feelings for him. he also feels like the only person in the world who would understand them. 

“yeah, it is,” you mumble, downing yet another drink as you watch beomgyu grinding on the girl salaciously. 

“wanna get out of here?” he asks sympathetically. you should say no. beomgyu will be angry that you left  him, even if he’d ditch you in a heartbeat to get laid. but now, as you watch him shoving his tongue in the red-lipped mouth of the girl who will now be the impossible standard you’ll hold yourself to from hereon out, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“i do,” you smile, for real this time, and his grin matches yours.

you’re so drunk, you barely remember how you got home, but you’re here and so is hyuka. you don’t cry, even if he kind of wishes you would just so you could let it all out. you laugh, even, as he tells his dorky jokes and beats your ass in mario kart. things are going so well, you don’t even hear the pounding on your door until kai says something about it.

“i’ll get it,” he says soothingly when you unsteadily try to stand up.

“thanks, hyuka,” you smile. and that smile stays planted on your face until you see who’s at the door. beomgyu. and by the looks of it, he’s pissed.

“what the fuck is your problem?! how could you just leave me there alone?” he asks as soon as he’s let in. your face sinks and all prior happiness is washed away in an instant.

“you weren’t alone,” kai cuts in defensively. “she was alone until i came and got her.” beomgyu is actually a little embarrassed by this blatant callout, but he’d sooner die than admit it.

“well, she should’ve said something, at least,” he counters, face still hot and voice still as loud as ever.

“i thought you were going home with that girl,” you reply meekly. 

“and you couldn’t just ask?!” he snaps. 

“you’re being an asshole,” kai argues. “nobody wants to watch you tonguing down some random girl, and she’s not your babysitter.” the room is deathly quiet after this. beomgyu is fishing for words, but he’s too drunk to quite think of any at the moment. he wishes he were sober so he could put kai in his place, but the words never come. all he knows is he’s pissed beyond anything he can properly articulate and it’s driving him crazy. 

“you’re drunk,” kai adds sternly. “go home.” 

“hyuka, it's okay,” you say gently. “he's too drunk for that. he can crash on the couch.” beomgyu doesn't know why, but he scowls at the nickname.

“but —”

“it's okay,” you repeat. kai’s face looks torn. 

“alright, then i'll head out,” he relents after a few seconds. “the both of you just need some sleep,” he says with a sharp glance towards beomgyu, who is still fuming, by the way.

“thank you,” you say with a terse smile. he returns it with a smile of his own and shuts the door behind him. beomgyu watches the entire interaction and somehow feels even worse.

“what the fuck was that? is he the guy you’re hung up on or something?” 

“no!” you exclaim incredulously. “hyuka is a nice guy, and he’s just… helping me with some things right now.” you’re not the most eloquent person on a good day, much less while drunk, so that’s all you can really say at the moment.

“what ‘things’ could he possibly be helping you with?” he snaps before realization dawns on him. “you told him about that guy, didn’t you?! you can tell him but you can’t tell me?” 

“he… he just understands,” you say. you knew beomgyu wouldn’t just let this shit go and be done with it. he’s like a child finding out his dog likes somebody better than he likes him, and it’s exhausting.

“are you sleeping with him?” 

“what, no!”  you say firmly. 

“you are, aren’t you?” he sneers. “you won’t let me touch you, but you’re letting him?” 

“is it so hard to believe that a man just wants to be my friend without wanting to fuck me?” truthfully, yes. you’re good looking and his experience tells him that men always harbor those intentions. well, he does, at least. and for some reason, as he looks at you in your big t-shirt and sweatpants, those intentions are brewing even more. 

“beomgyu?” you ask tentatively. his eyes are so intense it seems like he’s even more pissed off,  somehow. your innocent look stokes the flames of what’s already been burning for you.

as if he’s possessed, he stalks his way over to you, grabs your face before you can even react, and plants a bruising kiss on your soft lips. you gasp when he meanly takes your bottom lip between his teeth and he can’t help but chuckle. the kiss is cruel for so many reasons, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t knock you off of your feet. you’re usually so restrained around him for reasons only you and kai know, but you feel your inhibitions melt as his tongue enters your mouth. he tastes like alcohol, but then, so do you, and he doesn’t seem to mind. in fact, if his hungry kiss in any indication, he seems to love it. 

one of his hands travel under your big hoodie and he tweaks your already hardened nipple between his fingers. 

“does that feel good, baby?” he asks lowly, and you feel yourself becoming even more wet. you're too embarrassed to respond, but judging from his tone, he already knows your answer. 

his kisses are unrelenting and fierce, no gentleness or care to be seen, but you’re so sweet he can’t control himself. he’s been wanting to do this ever since he hit puberty, but you’ve never seemed interested in him for reasons he can’t understand. but now, you seem more than interested as you let him lead you to your bedroom. he lays you down on your bed and takes off your sweatpants. when he sees you, naked and glistening just from a few touches, he licks his lips in anticipation.

“all this from a few kisses?” he teases, rubbing his fingers up and down your slit. you can do nothing but gasp in response as he pushes one of his long, calloused fingers into your heat.

“s-so tight, it’s sucking me in,” he moans. “i can’t wait to see how you feel around my cock.” he adds a second finger and curls, hitting your sweet spot. all you can do is moan as he takes his thumb and rolls your clit. he watches your body rise and fall with the pleasure and it fascinates him like nothing he’s ever seen. your eyes are screwed shut, but he can’t help but prod and tease to see the different facial expressions you show him. before long, he’s pounding into you. the sound of squelches mixed with your moans only goads him further and further until you’re clenching down mercilessly on his fingers.

“aww, does that feel good, baby?” he coos. “wanna feel even better?” post-release clarity should hit you right about now, but you’re only more eager when he removes his clothes. his lengthy cock, angry and reddened, springs up and slaps his stomach. you whimper at the sight and he smirks at how needy you are.

he hovers over you and slowly, agonizingly slowly, he begins to rub his stiffened length up and down your slit. 

“gyu, you need a condom —” you begin to protest.

“why? i’m clean. and i don’t fuck just anyone raw,” he argues as the head of his cock comes dangerously close to hooking on your entrance. you’ve never been able to say no to him for any meaningful amount of time, so relenting isn’t out of the ordinary for you. but more than that, his words, though unromantic, spark a bit of hope in your heart. you’re special, you think. 

“do you trust me?” he asks. 

no. not at all.

“of course.” and he pushes in. his arrogance falters as you take him in, inch by throbbing inch. it’s a tight fit, and the way you clench around the tip of his cock only drives him further and further into madness. how can you feel so good? how can this feel so perfect? 

your poor pussy is equal parts trying to suck him in and trying to resist so the intrusion is forced out. to him, it feels like heaven. 

“t-tight!” he hisses. “relax, baby, or you’re gonna break me.” for some reason, his words comfort you, allowing him smooth entry until he’s completely sheathed in you. you both moan when he completely bottoms out, balls hitting your ass in the most lewd way. his precum mixed with the result of your release seep into the bedsheets. he stays there for just a moment, pushing your hair out of your face, and his next words are uncommonly tender.

“you look so pretty like this,” he muses, and you don’t even have time to blush before he’s unsteadily pulling out, pussy pulling him back in like it never wants him to leave, then thrusting back in again. 

“oh m-my god,” he says as he begins to ram into you. “so good, baby. you’re taking me so well.” 

“b-big!” is all you can manage to say as he continues to fuck you open.

“oh baby, are you going dumb on my cock? can’t even manage to get the words out, can you? it’s okay, don’t think. i’ll take care. of. you,” he says, punctuating each word with his mean thrusts. 

you’re crying now, the pleasure too great to stifle your tears. beomgyu thinks you look absolutely lovely like this, lovelier than anyone he’s ever seen, especially when he looks at where you two are joined and watches himself enter and exit your puffy pussy. each gasp, each breathy whine you emit makes him feel crazier and crazier. he aches so much, he has no choice but to continue pounding into you until he's relieved. so he does. he’s gripping the plush of your thighs like he might die if he doesn’t have something to hold onto. 

he leans over to give you a nasty kiss, all tongue and teeth. when he parts from you, a lewd string of saliva falls from your mouths and he can’t control the chuckle that escapes him when he sees your pupils are blown out as you flounder for his lips again. 

“look, baby. look at how good i’m fucking you.” you look down and see how his cock protrudes from your tummy as he rams in and out of you. “nobody else has fucked you right, but don’t worry, i’ll make sure to fix that.” your pussy involuntarily clenches at his filthy words and it’s enough to make you come.

“c-coming!” you manage to choke out as you spasm around him, back arching deliciously. he follows soon after, thrusts becoming uneven before you feel his cum shooting inside of you.

-

fucking beomgyu comes naturally, and often. he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you. hooking up becomes almost a daily affair, but you’re so hungry for him you can’t bring yourself to protest. you fuck in his car, on his couch, over the fucking kitchen counter, even. all plans to go out with anyone else are immediately dashed in favor of being with him, instead. you feel yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with him, and even if you know, know, know it’s fruitless, you can’t help but relent when he looks at you like a man starved. 

“this can’t be good for you,” kai tells you one evening in the comfort of your apartment. it’s a rare occurrence to have a free night from beomgyu’s clutches. kai hasn’t seen you in weeks because you’ve been too “busy” with beomgyu. 

“well, i know,” you sigh, too tired to argue with him. 

“if you know, then why do you do it?” he asks tentatively. you can’t help but give him a look. 

“you know why,” you say. 

“he's just messing with your head. you know this can't end well.” you flinch at the word “end”. you know it, he knows it, beomgyu surely fucking knows it, but you can’t help but give in every time. “what are you gonna do when he inevitably fucks you over? and he will, just like always.”

“i… i’ll deal with it when the time comes,” you protest. he sees your defeated expression and lightly tilts your head so it’s resting on his shoulder. your retribution for your actions was always well on its way, but you didn’t know it would come so soon. 

you hear a key turning in the door. there’s only one person in the world you’ve given a spare to, so you aren’t surprised in the slightest when beomgyu walks in with that signature smirk on his face. he scowls a bit when he’s greeted with the scene of you and kai sitting so intimately.

“am i interrupting something?” he scoffs as you raise your head from kai’s shoulder.

“no,” kai replies before you can even fix your lips to respond. to your mild surprise, he doesn't push any further.

“whatever,” he shrugs, plopping down next to the two of you and pulling out his phone.

“wanna see this girl whose number i got today?” he asks casually, swiping through his phone eagerly. so that's why he didn't wanna meet up. your heart feels like a hole’s been blown straight through it. you and kai share a deep look, which beomgyu completely misses as he pulls up a picture of a beautiful looking girl. 

“this is her,” he says with a triumphant smirk. you don’t — can’t — respond. you just have a blank look on your face.

“what?” he asks petulantly. “she’s really pretty, look!” he insists, pulling up another picture. “she’s one of the hottest girls i’ve seen in a minute.”

any last shred of hope or dignity you have is strangled in its crib at his careless words. your eyes are hot and your stomach hurts so much you feel like you’re going to vomit. kai notices your discomfort and decides to put a stop to this once and for all.

“alright, that’s enough,” kai snaps. “nobody wants to see that shit.”

“what’s your fucking problem?” beomgyu retorts.

“my problem is that you’re a fucking moron. grow up.” beomgyu’s not one to get physical, at least not in a violent sense, but he’s on the precipice of breaking that streak at kai’s harsh words.

“stop, hyuka. it’s okay,” you say softly. beomgyu is so furious, he almost forgot you’re here, but he's genuinely confused by kai’s words.

“what's okay? what is it that you're not telling me?” beomgyu asks. 

“it's not okay, actually. he’s fucking you but he comes around and pulls this shit right in front of you?! she won’t say it, but i will.” 

“kai, don’t —” 

“she doesn’t care! no strings attached, that’s always been the deal.”

“you may be stupid as fuck, but surely you’re not that stupid,” kai sneers. “so if you say you don’t already know, you’re just a fucking liar.” beomgyu pauses at this. is he saying what he thinks he’s saying? surely you didn’t catch feelings, right? but one look at your face, and he knows kai is telling the truth. 

but why? and when?

“since when did you…”

“since always,” you say quietly. 

“oh, fuck. look, i —”

“it’s okay. i already know,” you cut in. and you do already know, but you can’t bear to hear him say it. beomgyu, in all his glory, processes this and instead of regret, all he feels is anger.

“i’m the piece of shit guy you can’t get over? are you fucking serious?”

“hyuka, you should go,” you say instead of letting him watch the melodrama unfolding before him. kai looks uncertainly between the both of you before relenting. 

“call me later, okay?” he says, wiping tears from your eyes that you didn’t realize had fallen.

“okay,” you reply with a sad smile. he sends beomgyu one last scathing look before gathering his shit and slamming the door behind him. 

“you tricked me!” beomgyu exclaims as soon as the door shuts. “i would’ve never fucked you if i knew you’d be like this.” just like everyone else. he doesn’t need to voice the last part, but you already know he wants to say it, which just hurts you even more.

“did you really not know, or were you just pretending not to know ‘cause it’d be inconvenient for you?” that shuts him up. kai was right, he’d be stupid not to know. maybe not at first, but surely along the way. surely when you’d look at him so longingly after sleeping with him, or the way you’d look so sad when he didn't stay after sex.

“listen, i’m so sorry that you’re scared, or angry, or whatever it is you’re feeling. i really am. but are you so selfish that you really think nobody else is afraid to have their heart broken? and do you think that means you’re allowed to hurt everyone else instead?” you ask quietly. every new word pierces his heart like nothing he's ever felt before. he wants to say something, but for the life of him, he can’t think of anything quite fitting. 

“i think you should leave,” you say after what feels like an eternity of silence. he looks at you with watery eyes and you almost feel guilty, but you’re through with feeling things for him that he’d never have the courtesy to feel for you. “go,” you repeat defeatedly, striding to the door and holding it open for him and he feels more and more like a rat you want to chase out of your home.

he looks like he wants to say something, but one look at you tells him you’re done listening. with heavy feet and an even heavier heart, he heads through the doorway, pausing only before he’s about to cross the threshold. he has a sinking feeling in his gut that tells him this is probably the last time he’ll be here. 

“are we still friends after this?” he asks lowly, eyes wide and more desperate than you’ve ever seen them. 

“no,” you say simply, and shut the door.

notes: not a ton of smut in this part, but i think the next part will have more i fear.

taglist: @my313 @superbbananananana @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @everythingvirgoes @beomnoullitheorem @sunny4cast

[manjirei]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤-𝐔𝐩! | h. kakashi

pairing: kakashi hatake x fem!reader (doctor!reader) genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, super tension-filled.. wc: ~6.8k setting: pre-war konoha; team 7 are still genins. medical wing. warnings: slight use of medical jargons a/n: sorry, it's pretty long! i figured i'd get lazy to write a part two, three, etc. after some time (especially since this has been rotting in my drafts as part one), so i decided to just write the whole thing in one go. i haven't written in years, so i apologize if some parts are kinda ass huhu

thanks for reading!

୨୧ — 𝐈

The first time you meet Kakashi, he's not exactly conscious.

Bloodied, broken ribs, chakra system’s a mess. He's wheeled into your medical wing after a botched infiltration mission and dropped onto your table like a puzzle with too many missing pieces.

"He's stable now," a senior medic declares, handing off the chart to you. "Keep him monitored. He'll be under for a while. If he wakes up early... sedate him."

You nod professionally, but your fingers twitch slightly as you review the name on the clipboard.

Kakashi Hatake.

As in, the Copy Ninja Kakashi. The man who led Konoha's Anbu Ops at an age where you were still learning how to suture without shaking.

But all you see right now is a man with deep scarring, blood under his nails.

Is this really the reality of shinobi? Even the strongest ends up this rough.

“I’ll take care of him.”

And you do. I mean it is your job.

୨୧

He wakes up on day three.

Groggy. Grumpy. Mask already back on somehow.

His one visible eye blinks slowly, adjusting to the sterile white light of the recovery ward. "You're not the usual nurse," he rasps.

You glance over your chart, your pen pausing mid-note. "I'm not a nurse." you reply calmly. "I'm your attending. The name's Y/N."

He studies you with a single eye, unreadable. "You're young."

You raise a brow, unmoved. "Well, you're nosy."

He hums, almost like a lazy laugh, fluttering his eyes shut again.

"Touché."

Kakashi shifts slightly against his pillow. Winces. His breath catches. "You know, you shouldn't move too much," you say softly. "Your lung's still healing."

"Doesn't feel like it," he mutters, wincing again.

"It wouldn't. You were barely alive when they brought you in." You pause, then meet his gaze evenly.

"But you will be. Don't worry, you're not going anywhere. I don't lose patients."

That stops him—like something in your words hits deeper than you'd meant it to.

He doesn't deflect with a quip. Doesn't reach for one of his usual dry remarks to ease the weight of the moment.

Instead, his eye just stays on you.

You don't know it yet, but that's the moment it starts.

୨୧

Though, you still think Kakashi is the worst patient.

He's quiet, which would be fine, if he weren't also absurdly stubborn. The kind of stubborn that turns silent defiance into an art form.

On day five, you step into his room after rounds and check up on him.

There he is—lying in bed, one arm lazily draped over his chest. Breathing even. Quiet.

You narrow your eyes.

Too quiet.

"This is a shadow clone, isn't it?" you thought to yourself.

You step closer and reach for his wrist. And as expected, your hand goes through it. The illusion flickers like smoke dispersing, and vanishes.

You blink once. Then twice.

Your eyes track the thin IV tubing, dragging across the floor, still attached to the pole—and still attached to him, limping slowly toward the window like escaping a hospital room is a normal post-op activity.

You drop your clipboard with a loud clack, pushing the curtain aside.

"Kakashi."

He pauses, glancing back like a schoolboy caught sneaking chewing gum, except this one has cracked ribs and an oxygen monitor.

"Doc," he greets, voice too casual.

"Are you serious right now? You know you can't fool me with your shadow clone," you say, shooting a glare at him.

"I heal fast," he offers, like that explains anything.

You glance at the IV line still dangling from his arm. "Is that why you're still dragging your IV bag like a sad little suitcase?"

You sigh, stepping closer. "You have a punctured lung, you're not even fit to climb out of that window yet."

"I've had worse," he mumbles.

"You are literally dripping saline and blood thinner while trying to crawl out of a third-floor window," you add.

He looks at the IV pole. "I was hoping it would detach on its own."

You sigh. Hard.

Then you plant yourself between him and the window, arms crossed, voice steel-edged. "If you don't sit back down right now, I'll inject you with enough sedative to knock out a tailed beast."

He blinks. Once. Then again.

And—he smiles.

"Come on." you say, hand gently gripping his arm. "You'll tear your stitches. Again."

He looks down at your hand, then slowly steps back into the room, one foot at a time. Defeated.

"...You're not like the other doctors," he blurts.

"No," you deadpan, grabbing the IV pole and dragging it back toward the bed. "I'm meaner."

He laughs. An actual chuckle—quiet and short, but it slips out before he can stop it.

You freeze for a second.

Huh.

You didn't know he could laugh like that. And definitely didn't expect you to be the reason.

Kakashi notices the way your expression falters for just a split second.

"I meant that as a compliment," he says as you help him sit back on the bed, reattaching the IV and tugging the sheet over his legs.

"I know," you reply. keeping your voice even. "I'm just debating whether or not to sedate you anyway. You're a flight risk."

"I prefer 'high-risk investment'," he quips.

You smirk despite yourself. "Sounds like something an emotionally unavailable man says when he knows he's charming."

He huffs a quiet breath as he settles back into the pillows. "And you sound like someone who's been burned by one."

You pause, lifting a brow. "Occupational hazard. I meet a lot of shinobi."

There's a beat of silence. Then his eyes crinkle again. "Touché."

You check the IV line with practiced ease, masking the strange flutter under your ribs.

You don't know it yet, but this is the first time he starts looking forward to your visits.

And the first time you start wondering if this recovering shinobi is going to be more trouble than your toughest surgeries.

Maybe he isn't the worst patient after all.

୨୧ — 𝐈𝐈

He starts lingering after he's discharged.

First it's, "Just a follow-up."

Then it's, "I've been having some tightness in my shoulder."

Then, more shamelessly, "You're the only one who doesn't poke me around like I'm a science experiment."

You don't call him out. Yet.

But you notice.

You notice how he always shows up around the same time—just before your shift ends. You'll be wrapping up patient logs or locking cabinets when you hear that familiar shuffle of footsteps in the hall, never rushed. Always like he belongs there.

You notice how he brings a book, but never really reads it. Just holds it open, glancing up every few minutes—tracking where you are in the room, who you're talking to, whether or not you've looked over yet.

You notice how he always seems to time his visits perfectly with your exit.

"Kakashi? Why're you here again?" "Ah, well you see, I think I forgot my.. book around here the other day. Heading out?" "Yeah." "Mind if I walk with you? It's getting pretty dark." "...Sure."

The walks are quiet at first. He's not chatty. Just... present. And not in a suffocating way, either. He listens when you ramble. Responds when it matters. Fills the silence without ever making you feel like you have to.

You pretend not to notice the way your heart beats faster when his hand accidentally brushes against your fingers as you walk together.

...

One evening, as the light begins to dip below the trees and the hospital's rooftop turns gold with dusk, Kakashi speaks without turning to you.

“So…” A pause. Then, casually.. too casually,

“Why aren’t you a shinobi?”

The question slides into the quiet like a kunai. No edge. But it lands.

You blink, caught off guard. He’s seated beside you on the ledge, legs stretched out in front of him like this is just another idle visit. He’s staring straight ahead—like he’s asking about the weather.

But you know better.

You swallow and look down at your bag, at the little jar of salve you made from scratch earlier.

"I... wanted to be one," you admit, crushing a leaf between your fingers absentmindedly. "Didn't make the cut. Politics. Bloodline—You know how it goes."

He hums, low in his throat. Something between acknowledgment and understanding.

You think that’s it. Think maybe it’ll drift into silence again.

But then he adds, in that maddeningly offhand tone—

“But you still train.”

You stop, just for a moment. A flicker of surprise catches your breath.

Your head turns. “How did you—?”

He doesn’t even blink.

“Your grip. Your posture.” His eye ticks over to you, lightheartedly. “The way you sidestep interns trying to surprise-hug you.”

The last part makes you scoff, reluctantly amused.

“That obvious, huh?”

He shrugs. “To me.”

You scoff quietly and shake your head, trying to brush it off. But then his voice softens. Low, intimate in a way that feels almost too much under the setting sun.

“And the way you treated my chakra scars,” he adds, “like someone who’s felt it.”

Your breath stutters.

He's not pressing, just... observing. Studying you the same way you study old wounds, figuring out where they started and whether they still hurt.

You glance over again.

He’s just looking. That quiet, unreadable gaze of his focused not on your face, but on something deeper. Like he’s reading old damage. Worn threads, invisible bruises.

You pull your eyes away first. “Old habit,” you murmur, voice thinner than you mean it to be.

He nods once. Nothing more.

No follow-up. No prodding. Just lets the moment hang between you and him.

...

The next day, he shows up again. Like always. But this time, no fake excuses. Just him—leaning against your office doorway, hands in his pockets, posture deceptively casual.

You barely look up, already suspicious. “Let me guess, your back hurts and it may have something to do with your chakra points.”

He says nothing at first.

Then, without a word, he steps in and sets something gently on your desk.

Two skewers of dango. Still warm. Wrapped neatly in wax paper. It's like he made sure they wouldn't get cold on the way over.

You blink, mid-signature. “...What’s this?”

You look up at him.

"For your old habit," he says, not quite meeting your eyes. "Figured you could use the energy."

It’s so… simple. But it lands like something heavier.

You stare at the dango, then back at him. Your throat tightens unexpectedly.

“Thank you,” you say, quieter this time.

Kakashi shrugs like it's nothing. But the tiniest crinkle at the corner of his eye betrays him.

You know it. You feel it.

It’s not just the gesture. It’s the silence around it. The way he’s still standing there, not saying anything, not moving to leave. Like part of him is waiting for something. Or maybe… hoping.

You return to your paperwork, but your hand lingers near the food.

“You really didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he says simply.

And there’s something about the way he says it. Like of course he didn’t have to. That’s not the point.

He pushes off the doorway and turns to go. Almost like he’s trying to leave before you can ask anything else. Before you can look too closely.

But just before he slips out of sight, you catch it—that familiar, steady rhythm of his steps in your hallway.

It’s the sound you’ve started noticing more and more lately.

Even when he’s not there.

Even when you wish he was.

You don’t know it yet, but you’re already the reason his feet take the long way home.

And he doesn’t know it yet, but your heart now leans slightly toward the door—every time it opens.

୨୧

By the nth time he shows up in your office, you finally say it,

"You do realize I have other patients, right?"

Kakashi blinks at you from where he's perched on the exam table—same corner, same lean, same unreadable expression behind the mask.

"I'm aware," he says. "But none of them have chakra scarring this symmetrical."

You lower your clipboard, unimpressed. "You said that two days ago."

"I did," he nods. "Consistency is important in the healing process."

You stare at him.

He stares back.

In defeat, you sigh and gesture for him to take off his shirt.

He does so without hesitation—and you hate how very little hesitation you have about it either. His movements are smooth despite the lingering bruising, and your fingers betray you by brushing just a second too long over the edge of a scar.

"You know," you mutter, checking his pulse, "you don't have to pretend you're here for medical reasons."

A beat.

He arches a brow. "You think I'm pretending?"

You glance up at him. "You showed up yesterday because your ear itched."

"It did itch," he says mildly. "Could've been a very rare parasite that actually messes with my chakra system. Dangerous stuff. I was being proactive.

You roll your eyes, but you're biting your lip to keep from smiling. You hate that it's working. That he's gotten comfortable. That you have.

He's watching you again—and not the casual observation he's always done. This is softer. Curious.

"You don't mind, do you?" he asks, after a pause. His voice is quieter now. Almost hesitant.

You look at him, carefully, heart beating somewhere a little too loud in your chest. The way his hands fidget slightly with the hem of his shirt. The way his eye doesn't meet yours at first.

"...No," you admit. "But I'd mind if you keep pretending you're just here for check-ups."

That gets him.

His eye crinkles a bit. The closest thing to a grin you'll get through that damn mask.

"Alright," he says, voice lower now. "Then let's not pretend."

You gulp.

He leans forward just slightly—not enough to break the boundary, but enough that you feel the heat of him, close and steady and very, very real.

"Y'know," he murmurs, in a slight teasing manner "If I keep showing up, I might end up your most frequent visitor."

"Well congratulations, you already are," you mutter, unamused.

"Ah," he muses, "then I guess I should start bringing snacks. Or flowers. What do people usually bring their favorite doctor?”

You blink.

He says it so casually—but there’s something underneath.. Like he’s waiting to see how far he’s allowed to go.

You try to play it cool, but your ears are warm. “That depends. Are they still pretending they’re here for medical advice?”

His gaze holds yours. No grin. Just something soft. Steady.

"You're not just a doctor," he says, almost like a secret.

You tilt your head. "No?"

"You're something else."

The way he says it, quiet, reverent—it makes your chest clench. Like you've been waiting for someone to say it. To see it.

You don't respond. But you don't move away either.

And that's enough for now.

୨୧ — 𝐈𝐈𝐈

You don't expect to see him on the roof.

It's well past midnight. The hospital is quiet, lights dim. Even the overworked med-nin staff have gone home. You'd stayed behind, again, to clear your head the only way you know how.

Shadowboxing under the moonlight. Sweat on your brow. Wrists wrapped. Your stethoscope long forgotten somewhere inside your locker.

You don't even notice the quiet flicker of chakra until a familiar voice breaks the silence.

"Your stance is a little stiff."

You freeze mid-strike, spinning.

Kakashi is leaning lazily against the rooftop doorframe, arms crossed. Civilian clothes. No mask. Just that sleep-mussed version of him that only seems to appear when the rest of the world is asleep—when it’s just the two of you, suspended in some strange in-between.

You exhale, heart jumping in a way that has nothing to do with cardio.

“How long have you been watching?”

He tilts his head, feigning thought. "Long enough to diagnose a repetitive elbow drop. Possibly chronic."

You squint at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“Technically, I’m being supportive.” He shrugs, wandering closer. “Some people bring protein bars. I bring unsolicited critiques.”

“Some people also knock.”

“I’m more of a ‘mysteriously materialize on rooftops’ kind of guy.”

"Stalker."

He shrugs again as you shoot a glare at him.

He steps into the moonlight—and gods, it should be illegal how good he looks in it. Silver hair tousled, sleeves rolled up, that look in his eye like he's trying not to say something too loud.

"You didn't tell me you were this good," he says, quieter now, watching the way as you reset your stance.

"I'm not," you mutter, adjusting your footwork. "I'm just... persistent."

He makes a quiet sound in his throat, somewhere between approval and amusement.

You throw another combo, more focused now—until a warm hand suddenly catches your wrist mid-strike.

You freeze.

He’s close.

"Loosen your grip," he murmurs, thumb brushing along the inside of your palm. His voice is low, his touch light. "You’re strong. You don’t need to punch like the world’s ending."

You usually say something to bite back, but... you didn't.

You can't.

Because he's looking at you like you're already something precious.

His fingers are still curled lightly over yours. His touch is warm.

You're not sure how long you stand like that—close, breath caught, words balancing between unspoken and the undeniable.

And maybe it’s stupid, maybe it’s reckless—but right now, under moonlight and bruised silences, you let yourself wonder,

If he came up here for more than just a critique.

And if you’re the only one who doesn’t want to pretend anymore.

But then—

a while ago…

"Okay but WHY is Kakashi-sensei always at the hospital?" Naruto mutters for the third time this week, slurping his ramen suspiciously.

Sakura looks up from her bowl. "You think he's sick again?"

Sasuke scoffs from across the table. "He's not sick. I passed him yesterday—he was carrying dango. Looked perfectly fine."

Naruto leans forward. "So what, he just likes hospitals now? That's suspicious."

Sakura frowns. "Actually... I overheard some nurses saying he only ever waits for one doctor."

Sasuke raises a brow.

Naruto gasps. "YOU DON'T THINK HE'S—"

"—Don't be ridiculous," Sakura cuts in, but even she sounds unsure.

Still, the next time they see him slipping out of the hospital late at night—hair messy, sleeves rolled, looking far too smug for someone supposedly recovering from shoulder pain. All three of them stare.

Kakashi just lifts a hand lazily. "Evening."

Naruto squints. "You're not even limping anymore!"

Kakashi smiles behind the mask. "I heal fast."

...

"You didn't have to come all the way up here just to watch me," you murmur after a long moment. Your voice is softer now. Raw.

He doesn't look away.

“I didn’t come to critique your footwork either,” he says eventually. “Even if it could use work.”

You scowl. “Charming.”

He lifts a shoulder, eyes half-lidded, lazy—except you know him now. You know when his voice goes softer, when he avoids your eyes, when his hands are in his pockets not out of boredom but restraint.

“I came because I wanted to see you,” he admits, voice low.

Your heart trips over itself.

"...You could've just said that."

His gaze dips to your lips, then back to your eyes. "Would you have believed me?"

You hesitate. "Maybe."

The silence between you hums.

"If you keep looking at me like that," you whisper teasingly, "I might think you're about to kiss me."

He's so close now.

"If I did," he murmurs, "would you stop me?"

You don't answer, taken aback with his reply.

But your fingers curl gently around his.

And your lips part, just slightly.

And the world narrows to the space between you and him.

Just heartbeats away.

୨୧

You feel it before it happens.

Kakashi's hand, still cradling yours, shifts just slightly—fingers ghosting along your wrist, your palm until it feels less like a correcting and more like a touch that's meant to linger.

His breath brushes your cheek. He doesn't move away. And the silence thickens with the weight of something that's been building for a long time.

You look up at him, eyes searching.

"...You're close," you whisper.

His eye curves just faintly. “I tend to wander.”

His voice is low, dry — but something in it falters at the edge, almost self-conscious. Almost shy.

You swallow, pulse humming. “…Do you want to?”

A beat.

“I think the more important question is… do you?”

You don’t answer right away. You’re too busy noticing the little things: the way he’s not blinking. How his thumb grazes your pulse like he doesn’t know he’s doing it. How he’s always careful, but somehow always stays just long enough to make your heart forget how to protect itself.

“…Yes,” you whisper, finally. “Don’t go.”

That’s all it takes.

His forehead tips gently to yours—cautious, careful, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

You breathe in. His scent taking over you. Faint smoke, cool earth, something grounding.

"'Kashi," you whisper.

It slips out before you even think about it.

He stiffens just slightly, surprised. Then blinks down at you.

“You’ve never called me that before,” he murmurs. His voice is soft, but it catches. Like it struck something he wasn’t ready for.

You feel your face warm. “Should I not have?”

“…Didn’t say that.” He exhales, almost a laugh—the barest curl at the edge of his mouth. “Just… wasn’t expecting it.”

There’s something vulnerable in the way he says it. Like you’d pulled something loose without meaning to. A thread he was doing a very good job of pretending didn’t exist.

And still—he doesn’t pull away.

But something shifts.

His hand slips from yours, trailing down your arm as if second-guessing the right to hold you.

“I’m not…” He pauses. And there it is again—that small crack in the usual calm. “I’m not really good at this.”

The words are quiet. Measured. Not self-pitying, but honest. And it's the first time you hear it: uncertainty. The guarded edge in his voice.

You look at him closely now—at the way his jaw tenses just slightly, how his gaze drops to somewhere near your shoulder instead of your eyes.

How he’s retreating in inches, like he’s used to being shut out before he can be let in.

"I've lost everyone I've ever cared about," he says, quiet. Measured. "Team, friends, family, people I should've protected. People I never got to say anything to. And every time something good shows up, I wonder how long before I ruin it. Or before it's taken from me."

It hits you—not just the weight of his words, but the quiet ache beneath them. The belief that love is something he wasn't meant to keep. A belief stitched into his ribs like a scar.

"That's what I think when I look at you." he finishes, voice rough.

"'Kashi..." You step forward again, gently taking his hand back.

He doesn't resist. Doesn't speak.

You hold his palm between both of yours, grounding him.

"You haven't ruined anything," you say. "And if you're scared of losing me, that just means there’s something real enough to try for."

He's quiet for a long moment.

And then—

"HEY, KAKASHI-SENSEI!"

You both jolt apart like lightning just struck between you.

Kakashi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why do they always show up when I'm about to make a breakthrough?"

You peek past his shoulder and groan.

Sakura shoots a glare at Naruto. "Idiot! You were supposed to be quiet."

Naruto. Sakura. And surprisingly Sasuke?

Peeking from behind a low rooftop wall, not even pretending to be subtle.

Kakashi turns to you, expression sheepish. "We should probably relocate."

You bury your face in your hands. "I hate everything."

He laughs—a quiet one that reaches his eyes—and gently guides you behind the rooftop door, hiding you both from the peanut gallery of nosy genin.

As you both lean against the wall, catching your breath, you sneak a glance at him.

"Do you... still want to try?" you ask. "Even with all of that fear?"

You're not even touching anymore, but it still feels like you are.

Kakashi's hand is braced against the wall beside your head, just slightly caging you in. Not on purpose, maybe, but he doesn't move away, either.

"You really didn't move," you whisper, staring at the space between your shoes and his.

He hums, voice low. "You didn't ask me to."

When you dare to look up, the air shifts—slow, quiet, electric.

Your gazes lock.

"I think about it all the time," he murmurs.

You blink. "Think about what?"

He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he reaches up—slowly, like he's afraid you'll flinch—and brushes a stray of hair away from your cheek. His fingers linger.

"You. Me. What this could be if I weren't—"

"Weren't what?" you breathe.

His hand drops.

"Haunted," he says simply. "Tired. Not built for this."

Your chest tightens. "You're not broken, 'Kashi."

He exhales shakily. "You say it like it's obvious."

"It is obvious," you say, stepping closer—close enough for your hand to find his again. "To me."

A beat of silence.

He looks at you like you're something rare. He doesn't understand how you exist in the same world he does—soft but fierce, steady but unpredictable, someone who sees him and doesn't flinch.

"I don't want to lose this... to lose you." he says vulnerably, and it slips out like a confession he didn't mean to speak aloud.

You squeeze his hand. "Then don't."

He stares at you, really stares. As if he's memorizing this exact version of you, like what he did the first time you told him that you don't lose patients—his first impression of you. The way your eyes shine when you speak. The way you always smell faintly like herbs and clean linen.

The way you say his name like it means something.

"...Say it again," he murmurs.

You blink. "Say what?"

"My name. Like that."

A soft smile tugs at your lips.

"'Kashi."

And oh—he's undone.

You don't notice you've leaned in until your noses almost touch. Your breath catches. His does, too. His hand comes up to your cheek again, a trembling thumb brushing the edge of your jaw.

You're going to kiss him.

You know you're going to.

It's happening.

It's—

"KAKASHI-SENSEI, YOU DROPPED YOUR HEADBAND!"

I swear to all the gods.

You jolt apart again, absolutely burning with embarrassment as Naruto's voice rings out like a kunai in a dream.

Kakashi groans and drops his forehead to your shoulder.

"Unbelievable," he mumbles.

"I'm going to inject him with a sedative," you mutter.

"Well, he'll have to get in line." Kakashi sternly adds.

"I swear, that Naruto."

Still hiding behind the wall, he glances up at you with a rare softness. Something so fond, it steals you breath even more than the almost kiss did.

"...Rain check?" he asks.

You meet his gaze.

And maybe it's reckless, fast, but you smile and say, "Only if you promise you'll actually cash it in."

He steps back, brushing his fingers over yours one last time straightening his hitai-ate like nothing happened.

"Deal," he says, giving you one last look over his shoulder. "You're worth waiting for."

And just like that, he disappears over the rooftop ledge—mask up, cool façade back in place, but his steps just a little too light for someone who's totally not in love.

You lean back against the wall, breathless, heart sprinting.

You're in trouble.

Big, stupid, wonderful, trouble.

୨୧ — 𝐈𝐕

The next day, you're barely holding it together.

Running late for your rounds, you’re juggling a clipboard, two folders, and a thermos of questionably reheated tea that’s one pothole away from disaster. You round the corner near the nurses’ station, muttering under your breath—

And slam straight into something solid.

Well. Someone solid.

The folders go flying. Your tea wobbles midair, chaos pending—

But nothing hits the ground.

A gloved hand steadies your elbow. Another has already caught the folders. And Kakashi Hatake, full gear and unbothered, blinks down at you like he didn’t just materialize out of nowhere to intercept a minor tragedy.

“...Morning,” he says. “You seem busy.”

You blink. Stare. Blink again. “You—what–”

He glances at the folder in his hand. “Radiology results. Hmm. Interesting reading.”

You snatch the folder back with a noise that’s half-gasp, half-groan. “You were discharged.”

“I was,” he agrees, perfectly calm. “Then I left. And now I’m here again. Life’s full of circles, isn’t it?”

"I'm just here for a check-up," he adds innocently.

You narrow your eyes. “Why are you actually here?”

He shrugs. “Might’ve pulled something.”

You frown. “Doing what?”

“Reading,” he says, with zero irony. “Very taxing. Spine’s not what it used to be. You should consider offering shinobi posture seminars. Or maybe back braces.”

You fold your arms, trying not to grin. "Uh huh."

He takes a small step closer, lowering his voice. "Besides... I thought I owed someone a rain check."

Your brain stutters.

Right. The rooftop.

You glance around quickly, suddenly hyperaware of the hallway—the nurses moving in and out of stations, the open patient room doors, the sound of someone wheeling a supply cart past. And him, still standing entirely too close, like his presence isn't already short-circuiting your entire system.

“You remembered that?” you ask, voice a little hoarse.

His visible eye crinkles just slightly, the barest hint of a smile pulling at the edges of his mask. “Of course.”

Your heart stumbles. You forget to breathe for a second.

He still hasn’t let go of your elbow.

“Right,” you mumble. “That.”

“That,” he repeats softly, gaze steady on yours.

Your heart stumbles again.

You don’t realize how long you’ve been looking at him until someone very pointedly clears their throat from down the corridor.

Twice.

You both flinch.

A nurse is walking past with a tray of bandages and a poorly concealed smirk on her face. She doesn’t even try to pretend she didn’t see anything.

Kakashi exhales, glancing after her. “Should I go before we become the subject of your staff’s next coffee break conversation?”

You lift your tea thermos, which somehow survived the chaos. “I think we already are.”

He makes a noise of faint amusement. “How tragic. I was hoping for at least a three-episode buildup before we got caught.”

You shoot him a look. “You’re not helping.”

He shrugs, clearly unrepentant, and gently passes you back the remaining folder like this has all been very civilized. “You didn’t stab me. That feels encouraging.”

“I could stab you,” you mutter, grabbing the folder.

He falls into step beside you as you turn to walk toward the stairwell.

“Please do,” he says lightly. “It’ll give me an excuse to come back.”

You nearly trip on your own feet.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

He’s looking straight ahead, hands in his pockets now, posture just a touch too casual to be natural. His mask hides most of his expression, but there’s a quiet ease in him. Something softer than usual. Lighter.

You swallow. “...You don’t have to force yourself to show up just because you feel like you owe me something.”

Kakashi’s voice is quiet, but sure.

“I’m not here because I owe you. I’m here because I want to be.”

Your grip tightens on the folder.

He doesn’t press nor look at you again. But his presence hums quietly at your side like something steady. Familiar. Something trying.

You keep walking, heart in your throat, brain shorting out.

“...Fine.”

His head turns. You don’t have to look to know he’s smiling behind the mask.

His fingers brush yours—just the barest graze, enough to make your hand twitch in surprise.

He doesn’t hold on.

But he doesn’t pull away either.

And somehow, that says everything.

୨୧

It starts innocently.

At least, that's what you tell yourself.

It’s a few days after the folder-flying hallway incident, and most of the clinic has quieted. Dusk has softened the world into gold and shadow. The lights in the hallway are dimmed to a low hum, casting long silhouettes along the clean floors. Most of the staff have clocked out.

You, however, are still perched at your desk, signing off the last few charts with a half-empty mug of cold tea by your elbow and a stubborn crick in your neck.

And then you feel it.

That familiar presence—unspoken but impossible to miss. A quiet awareness that slides in through the seams of your focus.

You glance up—and there he is.

Kakashi stands leaning casually against your office doorframe, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed in that practiced way only shinobi ever manage.

His hitai-ate is pushed up. His mask is on, of course. And his gaze, when it finds yours, carries that ever-present flicker of amusement and something quieter beneath it—something warm.

“You’re making a habit of this,” you say without missing a beat, quirking a brow at him.

He tilts his head. “Is that a complaint?”

“That depends. Are you here with another fake injury? Or should I start charging you rent?”

He shrugs. “Neither, actually.”

He steps forward. And that’s when you see it—a small, slim box in his hands. Plain packaging. Tied with red twine. Your heart immediately performs a minor somersault.

“I brought you something,” he says simply.

You sit up straighter, wariness mixing with curiosity. “...What is it?”

He holds it out, almost sheepishly. “Open it.”

You undo the twine with careful fingers. The box opens with a faint creak.

Your heart makes a strange little thud.

Reinforced knuckles. Lightweight weave. Tailored exactly to your size. And not just functional—they’re in your favorite color. Muted, but elegant. The kind of gear you’ve wanted but never had the time to get.

You blink, throat suddenly tight. “How did you—?”

“You favor your left hand for close defense,” he says. “But the padding was starting to fray. And last week you rubbed your thumb raw without realizing.”

You stare at the gloves, then back at him. “You noticed all that?”

Kakashi scratches the back of his head, almost like he regrets being caught caring. “You’re my attending. It’s... hard not to notice things.”

Your heart twists. The words are simple. But the way he says them—soft, honest, like it cost him something to admit.

It makes you forget how to breathe.

He shifts on his feet. “I know it’s not much. But you’re always patching people up. I figured someone should return the favor.”

You can’t look away from him.

There’s a silence, but it’s not awkward. It’s full—of gratitude, of something you can’t quite name. He meets your eyes, and the world narrows to the space between you, heavy with the ache of things unsaid.

You step closer.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “No one’s ever... I mean, that was thoughtful.”

He shrugs, but there’s a quiet smile in his eye.

“You’re easy to think about, well at least to me."

That lands harder than you expect.

You feel something shift—like gravity tilting slightly between you.

Your voice is a little too soft when you ask, “Is that why you keep showing up?”

Kakashi doesn’t answer right away. He takes another step closer, closing the space until there’s barely room for air between you.

“Do you remember what you said to me?” he asks, voice low. “First week I was here. Third day in.”

You blink. “…I said a lot of things.”

He huffs a laugh. “Yeah. But one stuck.”

You search his gaze.

“You told me I wasn’t going anywhere,” he says. “That you don’t lose patients.”

Your breath catches.

“I didn’t believe you,” he adds. “Not then. Not with the track record I had. But you said it like it was a fact. Like even if I gave up, you wouldn’t.”

He looks at you then, really looks. Not like you’re a mystery, but like you’re the answer he didn’t think he was allowed to have.

“You made me want to stay,” he says quietly. “Even after I didn’t need to.”

The silence deepens.

You don’t know what to say. Only that something in your chest is unraveling at the seams.

He lifts a hand. Hesitates. Then gently brushes your knuckles with his fingers—like he’s memorizing the feel of you.

“You made me want things again,” he says.

“Kakashi...” you whisper.

“I don’t know what this is,” he continues, voice rough around the edges. “I don’t know how to do it right. But I know what it feels like when I leave the clinic and I wish I hadn’t. Or when I think about you in the middle of a mission, and it makes everything quieter for a second.”

You stare at him, eyes glassy.

“Being around you doesn’t make me forget,” he says. “But it makes remembering hurt less.”

Then, softly,

“I want this. I want you.”

He never meant to stay this long.

The hospital was supposed to be a pit stop. A consequence of a botched infiltration. Just a bed.

Just another awfully long healing process in a boring hospital, again.

Just another scar.

But then there was you.

Sharp-tongued. Steady-handed. Unafraid. You didn't look at him like a broken thing. You didn't see his mask and flinch. You saw someone worth keeping alive—someone worth caring for.

He remembers one of the first things you've said: "You're not going anywhere. I don't lose patients."

He remembers thinking, Good luck with that.

He hadn't believed you. Not then. Not with the weight he carried. But you stayed, even beyond the hospital. Every day, every sarcastic remark, every heartbeat.

And somewhere in the silence between your scoldings and salves, something changed.

He started making excuses.

A sore shoulder. A "follow-up." A muscle twitch that needed checking. When really, all he wanted was five minutes more with you. Ten, if he was lucky. Long enough to hear your laugh, banters, to see your smile.

Long enough to feel like maybe... he wasn't just another name on a chart to you.

You made him feel like he could be whole.

You made him want more.

And now, just inches from your warmth, he realizes—

You're the first person who didn't give up on him before he even began.

And this... this soft, staggering thing he feels in his chest—it's terrifying.

But it's real.

You met him where he was ruined—and stayed long enough to see him whole.

He doesn't want to leave.

You step in without thinking. Press your palm to his chest—right where his heartbeat drums steady against your hand.

“Take it off,” you say, so quiet it’s barely audible.

He freezes. “...What?”

“The mask,” you murmur. “Let me see you.”

Kakashi stills for a heartbeat. Two.

Then, slowly—very slowly—he raises a hand to his face. The fabric folds down with practiced ease.

And there he is.

His face. His scars. The ghost of old wounds etched along his jaw. He doesn't flinch. Not when you see him.

He's... beautiful.

Quiet vulnerability hangs between you, completely unguarded—all laid bare, just for you.

No facade. No barrier. Just him.

Kakashi.

You lift your hand to his cheek, thumb brushing the edge of a healed wound by his jaw. His eyes flutter shut—just briefly—like the touch startles him in a good way.

And then you lean in.

It's soft. Warm.

It's... real.

His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss—not with hunger, but with so much longing. Like he didn't think he deserved this, but now that it's happening, he's terrified to lose it.

When you finally part, your foreheads rest together, breaths slow and warm between you. The world feels like it’s holding its breath.

"I think,” you begin, barely above a whisper,

“I’m falling in love with you.”

Kakashi stills.

He exhales like he’s been holding that breath for years.

"...You are?" he asks, voice ragged.

You nod.

"I didn't plan to. But you keep showing up, and suddenly you were just... everywhere."

“Kept telling myself it was just clinic visits,” he murmurs, almost like he’s confessing to a crime. “A few check-ups. A few muscle twinges. Some bruises I let hang around longer than they needed to.”

His thumb rubs over the back of your hand once, slow. “And... okay, a few dango runs. Maybe a few too many excuses to pass by your hallway. Maybe I started faking injuries just a little.”

You bite back a smile, but your chest aches.

He looks away for a second, as if the weight of saying it is harder than he'd like to admit.

“I told myself it was safer this way,” he continues, voice dropping to something more fragile. “To just… orbit. Not land. Not want.”

His jaw works. There’s something old in his eyes. Worn.

“You made it impossible for me. Somewhere between the salves and the stubborn lectures and you yelling at me for almost ripping my stitches—I stopped being scared. I just didn't know how to say it."

His hand finds yours and wraps around it gently, firmly, like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the moment.

“I didn’t know how to say any of this,” he admits. “I’ve never been good with... saying things.”

You don’t speak. You don’t need to.

You just look at him—his brow slightly furrowed, like he's bracing for the moment to crack and vanish beneath his feet. Like he’s waiting for you to pull away. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But it doesn’t.

It won’t. You won't.

Instead, your fingers curl tighter into his. You let the silence answer for you—full, grounding, real.

Then, gently—soft as breath—you say,

“I love you, too.”

The way Kakashi stills is so subtle you might miss it. A sharp inhale, a flicker in his eye like something ancient inside him just shifted.

And then he laughs—barely. A sound like wonder, like disbelief cracked in half. It’s not loud. It’s not showy. It’s just... Kakashi. Quiet. Guarded. But a little undone.

His voice comes slow. Measured. Like every word matters.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get to hear that.”

He says it like it costs him something. Like it matters more than he expected.

Your eyes sting.

His hand stays in yours, but his other reaches up and brushes the line of your jaw with the backs of his fingers. He’s still not sure you’re real. As if he’s trying to memorize you before you vanish.

You cup his cheek, and he leans into it like someone who’s forgotten how to ask for comfort but finally found it anyway.

And in that moment, something shifts.

He lets himself believe.

That he might be allowed to have this. That he might actually deserve it. That maybe, for once, he won’t lose the thing he’s grown to need.

His thumb brushes your cheek, slow, tender. Like he’s drawing a promise into your skin.

And when he leans in again—slowly, deliberately—the kiss he gives you is softer than the first. More certain. Less like a moment stolen, and more like one that belongs to you both.

Full of warmth.

Full of something that feels like future.

And this time, he doesn’t run.

You don't know it yet, but this is the moment he lets himself stay... in a love never thought he'd be allowed to feel or have.

One that began not with a plan, but with broken ribs, a wrong turn, and the quiet, stubborn hands of a doctor who didn't believe in losing.

A meeting that should've been nothing,

But somehow, became everything.

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated! thanks for stopping by ~ ^3^ <3

(p.s. i hope you guys saw the mirroring of events!! (kakashi to 'kashi), “to me”, and also the use of "you don't know it yet, but..")

requests are open! 🌸

[jasminerva]

“does Nagumo have kinks and if so what are your favs for him 🎤”

So I was asked the above by Lao (@herringstrait)... And I thought I'd just list off a few off the top of my head, but in the end I had enough for a full post lmaooo (and then some - I added more and it just got away from me orz)

Welp... here ya go!

Nagumo x gn!Reader (w/ a few femme-gendered parts as indicated by ♀) Want more? Check out my SakaDays Masterlist! 🍑 Comments, reblogs, tags appeachiated~! 🍑

🎤🧐

mic check one-two (takes in a deep breath)

Nagumo x Reader NSFW headcanons

I feel like Nagumo would prefer to be in control even when he "relinquishes" it lol he wants to show you who's boss (it's you - if you really want you can even make him cry and drool and beg for it) he'll (learn to) crave it 😏 like a special once in a while treat. Honestly, he convinces himself he needs control because that's secure & safe to him. When he gives you control, that's basically saying he feels super safe with you! And if that ain't the sexiest thing ever, I don't know what is.

I personally don't feel like he's got any extravagant kinks like rope play or whips or wax / pain play (he'll try everything once, and he'll do stuff that you like for you)

Now, that doesn't mean he won't go crazy if you wrap yourself up like a present with your/his favourite-coloured ribbon! Or - better yet - let him wrap you up!

Food play for sure tho. One of the smut fics I have drafted up for Valentine's Day involves chocolate in lieu of clothing lmao

Nagumo likes little challenges cuz he's childish like that - throw him a bone every once in a while. Dare him to keep the cuffs on no matter what (god knows he can break outta anything). Let him get creative in stripping you and he'll surprise you (hint: it involves teeth).

I do think he'd like it a lot if you call him "good boy" - he likes praise. Nagumo will for sure reciprocate.

I think he really likes jiggly parts lol so he'd get mesmerized and purposely slam harder and maybe slap it a bit just to see it wiggle lmao (also them slapping sounds mmmph)

Mirror sex

Orgasm control lol but not too crazy he's a soft guy (for the most part). Mostly, he's a sappy romantic and he wants to cum isshoni together with you, so he'll do his darndest to get you off at the same time. In reality, you could probably control him better than he thinks he can control you.

He can be a little possessive but it's not to possess rather than the feelings behind it. If you time it well and tell him you're "his" he could very much cum prematurely 🤣 (he just wants you to know you're his and he's yours okay???)

I also have a smut that I don't know when it'll be released but… it involves an annual hunting excursion in the wilderness lmao (where YOU are the prey - so yeah) [Lao mentioned the face he made while threatening Yotsumura so I HAD TO INCLUDE IT]

(hack-coughs)

(takes in another breath)

Nagumo would be amazing at role play (dude is a master of disguise) but at the end of the day all he wants is to be himself / vulnerable and with you 🥹

I shared this before where Nagumo keeps his eyes open for everything lmaooo his FOMO is bad. You have to get used to when you accidentally peek while he's kissing or you're trying to cover your O face - nope, he will pry those hands off your face or lean very forward - he wants to see it ALL with them big boba eyes.

Just like his eyes are made for eyeing, his fingers are made for fingering. You can act all cocky and crack a joke about how his knuckle tattoos will wear out so much faster at the rate he's going, but he'll just tell you, "worth getting them retouched if I get to touch you like this" as he nearly sends you to heaven (showing off the real reason he has his gold assassin license).

On that note, he's not afraid to probe (literally and figuratively) you, even while you're already stuffed. "Y-Yoichi, t-too much... I don't think that'll fff—" "Shh... don't worry, baby, you can take it all."

[♀] For my womb-sisters, I can see him pressing down on your lower abdomen while he's thrusting into you, feeling you from the outside-in (inside-out?), driving you crazy. Hit that g(uaranteed good time)-spot-on accuracy.

He knows how to use his tongue too. You might even prefer it because it means he'll shut up for once, but ultimately you love his silver tongue-in-cheek as much as you love his other appendages. I think he still prefers leaving his mouth free for kisses and cracking wise.

[♀] Bonus food play, he will kill two birds with one stone by taking in some sugar-free candy or mint beforehand to eat you out. We know how much he loves his sweets after all~ ;) plus the minty tingle would keep things quite literally fresh. (warning: don't mix actual sugar with the vajayjay — not worth it)

Look up BJ blast pop rocks and tell me that won't be the best way to get back at him.

He loves it when you tangle your fingers in his hair, hold him close while he ravishes you. He keeps his hair messy for a reason (wants you stuck for as long as possible).

[♀] Just like he has the bobas, if you have the boobas, he loves to motorboat tease them and rest his face between them (even outside of R18 times). There's something about how nipples perk up that he feels real satisfied about.

[♀] Holding onto them while he's hitting that spot? The peaks between his tattooed fingers and feeling the jiggly movement under his palms? That's one of the rare times he has difficulty concentrating on your face.

Aftercare

This can be pre-/post-/in between, but he likes to trace your hip or stomach or other part with his fingers. Maybe solve some math puzzles like a nerd (scenario included below).

He'll clean you up really well. Maybe too well. Don't take up his offer to clean you up in the shower or bath if you're short on time.

I can see him as the big spoon, or even little spoon. Best would be the pillow-talk position, where he just holds you right against him, face-to-face, eye-to-boobage.

Whatever position, just picture him holding you with his fingers interlocked.

He'll tangle his legs with yours and lock you tf in. Need to go to the bathroom? Best of luck. Dude is a clingy Cancer.

He might wax poetic, saying something cheesy like "we fit together like puzzle pieces" or "you're a problem I'm still trying to solve" - feel free to bonk him. Then you'll have some mandarin oranges to share!

Nuzzles & cuddles & kisses, oh my!

He'll fall asleep with his chin resting on your head, or nuzzled against your chest. (omg Memi @toyboxterror shared this art by ivy_rt_ w/ me which is perfect)

Extra for those familiar with cloud8.

re: hunter-prey play - you don’t particularly like nature, but you’ll do it just to outlast him as long as possible (you can be stupid competitive and it reminds you of JCC times) - plus maybe you like the adrenaline spike haha. He makes a convincing predator.

re: orgasm control / rare dom time - you will get some use out of your kill heels after all (psst don’t tell Tenju).

If you’re into consensual somno - the perk is that you don’t have to do anything PLUS it makes Nagumo feel trusted and desired and that gets him off. WIN-WIN & WINK-WONK.

Nagumo may hate his stuffy work wear, but you've convinced him the necktie is a must. To tug on, motioning him to come hither, pulling him into a kiss, he'll pin you down between his arms and deepen it. It becomes ceremony after a long day's work. (thank you Memi for reminding me!!!)

Extra (forgot I had this drafted in Oct - figured I'd include it here)

SakaDays headcanon: Nagumo “I solve Sudoku puzzles in my downtime” Yoichi does rapid mental math in his head and most likely even uses his fingers (wink-wonk).

shared in the ch1 end notes of c o n t r a i l s (Nagumo x F!Reader ***nsfw smut*** fic). [tumblr post link if you wanted to like + reblog]

Probably traces Sudoku on your bare skin, too. The nerd. Here's a smol scenario of a time when you first noticed:

(You and Nagumo are snuggled up) Nagumo: (hand lingering on your hip, he starts tracing patterns on your skin) You: Are you playing tic-tac-toe or something? Nagumo: Hm? Nope. You: (after a few more movements, realizing) Seriously? Sudoku? Nagumo: Yeah, well, I left the book in my other coat, but may as well continue where I left off~ You: Wow. Is that where your mind immediately goes? Lucky me. Nagumo: (slowly moves mathematical ministrations towards your core, purring) Feeling lucky now~?

[bellaxgiornata]

Not Like Before Chapter One

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 3.7k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; nurse!Reader, canon-divergence (no Abel or Thomas), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, girl dad Jax

a/n: Since y'all devoured the first part and seem incredibly into this series already, I figured I'd give y'all the first real chapter because I've got like six other Jax fic drafts sitting around now! Also, don't be like Ope and drive when you've been drinking. Dividers by the lovely @secretlysamcro.

series tag list: @kmc1989 @secretlysamcro @chloe-skywalker @cindsvibes @aussiefangirl95 @sjester42-blog @danzer8705 @uknowmesstuff @mmarysha @shiggynuggiez @stevie75 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @kaydallas21  @orymgraves @unholycheesesnack @livewaspsblog @leather-n-velvet

Between the loud music and the drunken shouting of everyone over it, the noise mixed with the haze of cigarette smoke lingering in the air made the clubhouse feel suffocating tonight. Throwing back the rest of his beer, Jax couldn't take it anymore. Everything was giving him a damn headache after how long he’d been on the road for the past couple of days, and for some goddamn reason, he didn’t really feel like partying tonight. All he wanted was to drink a few beers and unwind from the long run, oddly not craving the usual wild chaos that came with the club.

“Gonna go have a smoke,” Jax told Opie as he slipped off the bar stool. “Too fuckin’ loud in here.”

“I'll join you, brother,” Opie said. “Need to get back to Lyla and the kids soon, anyway. Been gone all weekend.”

Opie raised his glass to his lips, downing the rest of his drink. Jax nodded at him before turning, heading straight for the clubhouse door. As Jax pushed it open and stepped out into the lot, Opie caught up and followed right behind him out into the cool night. 

Unfortunately, the lot outside was just as loud as it had been inside with how many people had come out to the party tonight. Maneuvering his way around friends of the club and a handful of croweaters, all of which were completely wasted by this point, Jax led Opie further away from the few picnic tables the group outside was drinking around. Some of the guys were sitting on the tables and smoking a cigarette, while a couple of the girls looked like they’d already passed out face down on the surface of it from all the booze and who knew what else.

Tonight was supposed to be a night of celebration for the Sons’. They had just returned from a successful run delivering quite a few high end assault rifles to a buyer up near Oregon, and thankfully, they'd completed the run with minimal issues. The only problem they’d encountered was Chibs’ fall from his bike, and that had been due to some asshole just outside of Charming not paying attention to the road and nothing related to club business. Unfortunately for Chibs, that meant he was missing the party tonight while he spent a few days recovering at St. Thomas. 

As they walked, Jax’s gaze skimmed over a few of the drunken girls that were stumbling over themselves in the parking lot, unable to refrain from a small grin slipping onto his lips as he eyed all the bits of skin revealed by their short, tight outfits. When one of the girls looked over and caught his eye, he shot her a wink. Behind him, Opie chuckled and shook his head at the way the girl had sent Jax a suggestive look in return. 

“Thought you wanted a smoke and to get away from all the damn noise,” Opie commented, still following after Jax. “If you've got other plans for while you're out here, I don't wanna be around for them.”

“Relax, Ope,” Jax replied, leaning against the wall of the clubhouse further away from the group. Slipping his hand into the inside of his kutte, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes. “Not lookin’ for that right now. They're a little too drunk for my liking, anyway. I just like seeing the looks on their faces when I tease ‘em a little.”

He pulled a cigarette out of the pack, slipping it between his lips as he smirked at his best friend. Pocketing the pack back inside of his kutte, Jax pulled out his lighter next. As he flipped it open, raising the flame to the tip of his cigarette, he saw Opie doing the same from the corner of his eye. 

“Some things never change,” Opie mumbled around his cigarette.

Taking a drag off his once it was lit, Jax returned the lighter to his kutte before leaning his head back against the clubhouse behind him, blowing the smoke up into the night sky. His ass was killing him from that long ride out to Oregon and back on his bike, especially since they'd only just returned to Charming this afternoon. 

“Fucking tired as shit,” Opie muttered beside him. “Can't believe we used to love those long fuckin’ runs when we were younger.”

Jax nodded his head against the cement structure behind him, chuckling as he remembered the early years when he and Ope had just been prospects and then newly patched members. Long runs meant the freedom of the open road and a change of scenery from Charming for a bit. And sometimes, if they weren't that busy or things were running behind, it also meant stopping somewhere for a bit to blow off steam at a bar or crash at a motel once the job was done before they needed to head back. And those nights had always led to some wild stories.

“We were young,” Jax pointed out. “Everything we did with the club felt twenty times more badass back then. Now?” He brought his cigarette back up to his lips, taking another drag from it. Expelling the smoke a moment later, he glanced at Opie beside him, feeling the weight of his own words. “We got more responsibility. Can't just piss around and have fun like we used to.”

“Got that right,” Opie replied. He shot Jax a grin before teasingly adding, “President.”

“Hey, you're the VP now, brother,” Jax reminded him, gesturing his smoke at Opie leaning against the wall beside him. “We ain't those little shitheads we used to be anymore.”

Opie hummed in response, that grin still on his face. “Dunno man, that's debatable when it comes to you.”

Jax’s hand darted out beside him, lightly smacking Opie on the shoulder. “Shut up, smartass,” he playfully shot back. 

Despite the drunken shouting from the others that were outside drinking near the picnic tables, the noise carrying on a faint breeze, a comfortable silence settled around both men as they smoked. Jax continued to stare at the night sky above him, lost in thoughts like he often was. He was grateful to be finished with the run, and even more grateful that there hadn’t been any firefights on the ride. He'd expected someone to get pissed about that many Sons riding past their territory, but somehow they’d managed a peaceful trip–which had been unexpected but welcome.

“Somethin’ on your mind?” Opie asked.

“Just shit from the day,” he answered half-heartedly, still staring up at the blackened sky. “Surprised shit went as smooth as it did.”

“Chibs might disagree,” Opie quipped back.

With a roll of his eyes, Jax’s focus shifted away from the sky and back on Opie smoking next to him. He could tell his best friend already had a couple of drinks tonight judging by the wide grin that kept reappearing on his generally stoic face. He’d been about to make a comment in response, but even more noise from the other side of the lot inevitably drew Jax’s attention back over towards the commotion. A handful of women had just stepped out of the clubhouse with Tig and Happy, Jax’s eyes briefly drifting over to the group. That in itself wasn’t that strange of a sight, but just as Jax had begun to look away, his eyes immediately darted back towards them.

Because no, he hadn’t really just seen who he thought he had, had he?

Pushing off the wall, he craned his neck around Opie as his eyes narrowed in an attempt to get a better look, his hand holding his cigarette dropping to his side. There was no fucking way in hell that was you, right? 

“What?” Opie asked, concern etched on his face as he turned to follow Jax’s gaze. “What’re you lookin’ at?”

Jax stared across the lot for a bit longer, his eyes fixed on a girl that was half-hidden behind a few other people. He hadn’t realized that he’d been holding his breath until the blonde girl blocking who he thought was you had stumbled backwards. That’s when he got a better view of the woman he’d mistaken for the one he'd thought he'd seen.

Because no, of course that wasn’t you. Why the fuck would you ever just appear at a Sons’ party out of nowhere? You didn’t even live in Charming. At least, not when he'd met you.

“Jax?”

Opie’s voice and his own disappointment had him tearing his eyes away from the woman who absolutely wasn’t the one he’d been hoping to see. With a shake of his head, he turned his back to the group and drew his cigarette up to his lips, taking a particularly deep drag to ease the tension suddenly in his body.

Why the fuck had he been so damn hopeful? How the fuck were you still in his head after all of this time?

“Dude, what the hell is goin’ on with you?” Opie pressed further. “You look like you just saw a goddamn ghost or something. The hell was that?”

“Nothin’,” Jax muttered. “Don’t worry about it.”

Opie scoffed harshly at Jax’s dismissal, his head leaning back against the clubhouse. Jax could feel his best friend’s eyes on the side of his face, but that only made him more determined not to look at him.

“Nah, brother,” Opie countered, clearly not buying it. “That wasn’t nothin’. Who’d you think you just saw? C’mon, tell me.”

His fingers pinched tight around his cigarette at the question. Why the fuck was he getting so frustrated? Why did any of this matter? 

“Just a girl,” Jax muttered, still avoiding Opie's eyes. “No one important.”

“Uh huh. I’m calling bullshit,” Opie shot back. “No girl gets you doin’ a damn double take like that. Who the fuck did you think it was, man?”

A long, irritated sigh fell out of Jax, his left hand reaching up and running across his forehead. You were already on his mind again. What the fuck did it really matter if he told Opie about you? It's not like you'd ever see each other again–something he should have already accepted a long fucking time ago. 

Shoulders dropping in defeat, Jax stepped back over beside Opie and returned to his place leaning against the wall. He took a deep breath, flicking some ash off the tip of his cigarette as he tried to gather his thoughts. 

“Few years back we had a run,” Jax began, still unable to look Opie in the eyes with how goddamn stupid he was about to sound. “Took us out to San Bernardino and the SAMDINO charter. Was a long ass trip because some shit went down while we were out, so we crashed at that shitty motel for the night on our way back.”

Opie nodded slowly as he expelled a trail of smoke from his lips. “Yeah, I remember that,” he mused. “Was a long time ago. That was the night Tig got so wasted we left him outside his motel room passed out. Somehow still woke up the next morning to find him with his face buried in a hooker's pussy.”

An amused snort fell out of Jax at that particular memory. The guys had begun to reassemble in the motel parking lot after a not very restful night, and yet even wasted and locked out of his room, Tig still had managed to get some ass.

“Yeah, that night,” Jax agreed, the smile on his lips slowly fading to something nostalgic as his thoughts shifted back to you. “That was the night I hooked up with some girl.”

“You always hook up with some girl,” Opie pointed out flatly.

Jax frowned as he raised the cigarette to his lips, inhaling the smoke as your face drifted through his mind. It had been five years since that night he’d had with you, and while the image in his mind had eventually grown a bit blurry, he'd never forgotten you. For whatever goddamn reason, you were the one of hundreds who'd stuck with him ever since the night he'd been with you. The only one who’d made him feel something. The one who’s face sometimes surfaced in his mind when he was inside of other girls like you were haunting him.

“Yeah, I do,” Jax said. “But normally I take a girl to bed, get off, and move on. Just a one time thing that means nothing. I never think about them after the fact.”

Opie's head turned, shifting against the wall as he looked over at Jax. His slightly glazed eyes had narrowed marginally in curiosity at him, as if his sluggish mind was struggling to process what Jax was really saying through the alcohol he’d drank. 

“Brother,” Opie began slowly, a look of disbelief gradually washing over his features. “Are you telling me you liked this girl? Am I hearing this right?”

Jax shrugged as he took a last drag of his cigarette before dropping it to the pavement and stomping it out. Roughly blowing out the smoke, Jax felt frustrated with himself at the question. He’d often asked himself the same damn thing, but it wasn’t like the answer really mattered at this point.

“I don't fucking know, Ope,” Jax replied. “All I know is, I haven't stopped thinking about her. Been five goddamn years and sometimes I'll just remember her outta nowhere thinking I see her around. Or sometimes I see her face when I’m with another girl. I don’t even know why, it doesn’t make any sense. Never fuckin’ thought about a girl after the fact even once. But her?” 

Jax shook his head, his eyes darting past Opie and over towards the rowdy group outside. He found the girl he'd mistaken for you, his frown deepening on his face as he watched her take a deep pull off of her beer. She definitely wasn't you and for some reason that pissed him off even though he knew it was a fucking ridiculous thing to be pissed about.

“You liked her.”

Jax’s attention returned to Opie, noticing how what his best friend had said hadn’t been a question but rather a statement. And maybe he was right, but what the hell did it matter at this point?

“Fuck, maybe,” Jax conceded. “Maybe I did. But I barely fucking knew her. And she lives hours away from Charming–or she did at the time, five goddamn years ago. Don't even remember her name. I just–”

He cut himself off before he could look like a jackass in front of Opie by finishing that thought. He didn't remember your name, but he remembered the way your laugh made his heart swell, and how your lips tasted like vanilla from whatever lip balm you’d put on them. He remembered how soft your hands felt running over his skin when you’d traced his tattoos, and the way you moaned against his neck when you'd came–and you'd came repeatedly while he'd been with you. Jax still remembered how goddamn good you felt when he sunk into you the few times he had that night, your pussy tight and perfect in a way that none of the other girls he’d been with ever felt like. A perfect fit–something that sounded so goddamn stupid even to his own mind. 

And he remembered the intense, strange pull he'd felt towards you from the moment his eyes locked on yours at the bar. That odd connection he felt in the way you’d kissed him, the one which had made it difficult for him to slip out of your bed when you'd accidentally fallen asleep after that fourth round of sex. He remembered hating the way he'd gently had to slip out from under your soft, warm, naked body, his eyes fixed on your sleeping form in bed as he quickly dressed himself. He'd carefully covered you in your bed sheets before he'd quietly left your apartment, never to see you again. 

“I remember her telling me she didn't do one night stands,” Jax eventually said, finishing his thought. “That she never had before.”

A small smile played across his lips as he remembered all those times you’d leaned over next to him at the bar, clearly buzzed as you whispered to him that you'd never slept with a stranger before. He recalled the way you'd giggled and nodded your head when he’d asked if you were considering it. When you'd agreed to follow him outside while he had a smoke, he’d been pleased to know you were as intrigued by him as he was by you. Then you’d shocked him when you’d been the one to take the cigarette from between his fingers and toss it away before grabbing him and kissing him like you couldn’t hold back any longer. 

“Told me that about twenty times,” he added with a chuckle, catching the little grin on Opie's face as he listened to Jax recall the night. “It was cute. She wasn’t like any of the girls that we usually see around here.”

Jax jutted his chin in the direction of the group still drinking by the picnic tables to make his point, a somber look in his eyes. He’d often wondered about you over the years despite how hard he’d tried not to think of you. He wondered if you’d ever thought about him and that night you’d had together. 

“Sex that good?” Opie asked curiously, studying the look in Jax’s eyes. “That why she stood out?”

Shaking his head at the question, Jax’s gaze shifted down to his hands, fiddling with one of his rings. “The sex was amazing, Ope,” he admitted before shaking his head. “I mean, fuck, we went at it a few times that night. Couldn’t seem to get enough of each other. But it’s not the only reason why she sometimes crosses my mind.” His tongue slipped out, wetting his lips as he remembered that odd feeling he’d gotten around you whenever you’d smiled at him. “There was just…something about her, y’know? Like I just felt somethin’ with her that I hadn’t really felt with anyone before. Not since…”

A look of understanding crossed Opie’s face as he nodded, clearly catching what had been left unspoken when Jax’s words trailed off. He finished off his own cigarette before tossing it to the pavement, stomping it out beneath his shoe. 

“Not since Tara?” he asked.

Jax’s head fell back against the cement of the clubhouse behind him, a familiar ache hitting him in the chest. “Yeah,” he answered quietly. “Not since Tara.”

The sounds of laughter and drunken shouting increased, filling the night air around them. He hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that truth, that there was something about you that had been more than just an urge to scratch an itch that night. You were an unexpected blip in the timeline of Jax’s life–two people who probably never should’ve met but did. And you’d unknowingly left an unexpected vanilla-flavored, citrus-scented mark on his life.

“But it don’t matter anyway,” he muttered bitterly, still staring up at the dark sky. “Never gonna see her again. Kinda the point of just one night with someone. Doubt she’s ever even thought about me since.”

“What makes you say that?” Opie questioned curiously. 

“Because I remember her telling me that she’d only gone out that night ‘cause she’d been stressed with her job or somethin’,” Jax told him, his attention shifting over to the row of parked motorcycles across the lot. “Don’t remember much about the why, but I was well aware that she was using me for an escape just as much as I was doing the same with her.”  

“Yet here you are,” Opie replied, a teasing grin on his lips, “thinking about the nameless girl with the golden pussy five years later. Who’s to say you haven’t crossed her mind?”

Pushing himself off the wall, Jax scoffed bitterly at the thought. Why the hell would a girl like you ever fucking think about the biker you spent one night with? Why the fuck was he even thinking about you again? The last time you'd crossed his mind had been months ago, and it was only because the girl he’d hooked up with that night had kissed him and tasted like cheap cherry chapstick mixed with alcohol. He’d missed the taste of vanilla and you.

“Doubt it, brother,” Jax bitterly grumbled, mood souring. “She’s just some girl I fucked, doesn’t matter. I’m gonna go grab another beer. You comin’?”

Opie stared at Jax, his slightly bloodshot eyes studying his face like he might say more about you, but he didn’t. Instead he shook his head and pushed off the wall.

“Nah, brother,” he replied. “Gotta get back to Lyla and the kids. Don't wanna leave her on her own longer than I already have this weekend.”

Disappointment filled Jax, but he nodded anyway. He knew Opie had responsibilities of his own, others in his life to worry about. Unlike Jax, who'd intentionally remained single and childless, not wanting to be tied down even if some nights he felt a stifling loneliness.

Like tonight.

“You good to get home?” Jax asked, raising a brow at him. “Maybe you should have a prospect drive you.”

“Only had a couple drinks,” Opie replied, shrugging a shoulder. “Not really feeling the alcohol. Mostly just really fucking tired, man.”

“Yeah, alright,” Jax replied, shoving down all of his previous thoughts. “I'll see you tomorrow, Ope. Get back safe.”

Opie nodded in a way of a goodbye before heading over to the row of motorcycles and climbing onto his bike. Without having much else to do, Jax turned and began walking back towards the clubhouse. He figured he'd have another beer and then crash in his room here tonight. It wasn’t like he had any reason to get back to his empty home instead, there wasn’t anyone waiting for him.

[vampyre-daisies]

I've kept so many of my thoughts on this era in the drafts for fear of being labelled a 'hater' and being bullied out of the fandom, but everything I've feared and expected and complained about, it's all been crystallized in The Reality War.

I say this as someone who adores this show, who has held it close to my heart for as long as I can remember, as a Flux defender, as a Clara apologist, as a classic and nuwho fan, as a pronoun having, protest sign wielding leftist, and with the deepest of wishes for the show to be better. I HATE this era.

We need NEW voices, we need RTD and his cliquey upper management out, we need a writers room where creatives can share and workshop ideas not some singular self-styled "genius" who doesn't share his plans with anyone until the day he hands in the script. We need redrafts, not first drafts (by Russells own admission many of his scripts are released as first drafts). We need lower budgets, because when the show is made to minimise on expensive spectacle it is forced to carry itself on the quality of its writing.

The criticism that the show is too full of its own history has been characterised by some as hollow because 'every era references the shows past'. But the problem here is framing and purpose. Russell has explicitly stated his GOAL is to 'generate content' and 'social media storytelling'. Every few episodes need the big REVEAL. To the point that by Wish World I personally felt literally NOTHING at the Omega reveal. Something that had it happened a few years ago I'd have been thrilled about, I left the episode numb. Because we had Midnight, Fugitive!Doctor, Susan, The Rani, Poppy and Rogue in the previous four episodes alone. Most of which are framed with flashbacks and the grand 'moment of reveal' and audience teasing, and I just knew they'd never pay off satisfyingly, they're there for the sharable moment on social media.

Both season big baddies this era are defeated by a random laser beam with no established precedent. It's Davies-ex-Machina at its worst, The Last of the Time Lords is my least favourite finale for this exact reason (among many more reasons) but even that at least SET UP the means of its big reset.

Answer me honestly WHY Omega was in this episode. Because he doesn't tangibly DO anything, either thematically or narratively. The Rani's scheme could have been to summon a giant ham sandwich and the plot would have been unchanged. The reason it was Omega was because RTD wanted people to post about it and go 'Wow Thing I Know' and get a million headlines like 'Doctor Who Just Did Something CRAZY'. Omega is reduced to a big CGI monster with less than 5 minutes screen time because he isn't Omega, the interesting villain with motivations of his own, he is simply a vehicle for the name recognition of Omega.

This is Doctor Who as content. As IP. It is the MCU, or Star Wars, or any number of modern franchises, where the 'big return' and references come first and the plot is thought up around making them happen not the other way round.

This is just scratching the surface of the problems, not mentioning the hollow corporate politics that are a thousand steps back from where the show was in the Capaldi run. The botched messaging on extremely important topics that come across bordering on straight up right wing. The failings of consistent characterisation. The ways in which Kate Stewart keeps doing deeply deeply fucked up things (excuse me you MICROCHIP and TRACK your employees, some of which are MINORS???) and the Doctor refuses to comment. The narrative failings of season arcs. The way so many of RTD's scripts this era are direct retreads of episodes he already wrote. The endless behind the scenes nightmares. The eight episode seasons being fundamentally a bad fit for a show with this core premise. I could go on for hours.

There have been great episodes in this era, just as there have been in every era. But on the whole this has been one of the deepest low points for me. I love Ncuti, I love Millie and Varada and the whole cast and I will miss those that are leaving dearly... this is not their fault. But if the show gets cancelled (which it WONT, it will return to being low budget) I will not mourn it. It has been dead to me for some time.

Sack Russell T Davies. Sack Julie Gardner. Sack Jane Tranter. Sack Phil Collinson. Sack everyone who has led to this era of ouroborosing the shark.

Stefan Powell can stay <3 ily bbgrl - keep pestering the folks on set

[kianamaiart]

can i ask what the process was like for hiring voice actors for your project was like? i have my own animated project i'm working on and that seems like a big, scary step as an indie creator

I'm lucky in that a lot of the VAs I cast are friends/mutuals of mine so I just DMd them and asked for their rates/if they'd be open to working on my pilot. When I posted the character bios initially, Shara commented on DeVoid saying "I wanna voice the baddie" and I said "bet". For everyone else, I'd just send them the character bios and script to read over to make sure they were down. I was even luckier that a lot of them were just down to help me out despite me trying to pay them (i made sure to at the very least offer my services as an artist if they ever needed prints for cons in the future)

More under the cut

Of the 7 VAs, I didn't know 2 of them personally and was planning on cold emailing their agent (they both have the same one) to ask if they'd be available for something like this. I was definitely nervous and was drafting up emails for such a long time wondering how to pitch the project and make it seem appealing without tooting my own horn too much.

During this time, I'd DMd Marieve, who's my friend and coworker on Big City Greens (voice of Tilly and our voice director), and asked if she'd be open to giving me voice directing tips since I'd be working with professional VAs on my own. She was gracious enough to just work alongside me on the project which was SO helpful, I owe her my life. I mentioned to her that I was still casting and was gonna email Atlas Talent to see if I could book the two other actors. What I didn't realize is that Marieve was also with Atlas and had the same agent and is also friends with said agent. She connected us and they got back to me right away!

That was my in, and from here on is what the booking process is actually like. This is what I feel like will be the most useful to you!

I told them who I was looking to book and they asked if they could get more info on the project. I sent them all my pitch materials so they knew this was a legitimate thing that was happening. I'd had pretty much the whole board and all the scripts done at this time. I feel like having actual, tangible work to show will really help your chances. The talent will know what they're getting into and if they're open to doing the project. Oh and also, if you have some VAs cast and are going to cast more, mentioning who you have already can also give you leverage and make you seem more legitimate. Ooh and also also, I let them know I was massively open to improv which I feel a lot of actors enjoy. A big selling point for this project.

They passed this along to the actors and I also made sure to tell them my budget. I was told by another VA friend that VO rates usually range from $200-300 an hour (you can shoot lower for indie projects). I told them I could do $200/hr but since they're pretty high profile, I was willing to negotiate.

The agent got back to me saying that the actors really liked the script and were willing to do it for free/at a discounted rate which meant the absolute world to me. Both of them are sweethearts and I also owe them my life. From there we scheduled zoom sessions and also studio times (we recorded one of them in person which was so sick). I'd say zoom's the way to go so you don't have to pay to rent a studio out and most VAs, due to the pandemic, have at home setups. There was a lot of scheduling back and forth involved with the agents and the studio but it all worked out and boom! Had em recorded in the next couple weeks.

I will say, it's ALWAYS worth asking and reaching for the stars. VAs are artists too and generally like being on fun, creatively fulfilling projects. You never know who'd be willing to be on your project if you never ask~