#but its still fun for a quick dress up game

[tenebrous-dream]

randomly remembered this game existed earlier. shoutout to the 3 doll fashion atelier fans out there

[ra-vio]

this blog is 11 years old now 🎉

I drew the siblings ever to celebrate as usual

[damienkarras73]

An essay on Furiosa, the politics of the Wasteland, Arthurian literature and realistic vs. formalistic CGI

Mad Max: Fury Road absolutely enraptured me when it came out nearly a decade ago, and I will cop to seeing it four times at the theatre. For me (and many others who saw the light of George Miller) it set new standards for action filmmaking, storytelling and worldbuilding, and I could pop in its Blu Ray at any time and never get tired of it. Perhaps not surprisingly, I was deeply apprehensive about the announced prequel for Fury Road's actual main character, Furiosa, even if Miller was still writing and directing. We didn't need backstory for Furiosa—hell, Fury Road is told in such a way that NOTHING in it requires explicit backstory. And since it focuses on the Yung Furiosa, it meant Charlize Theron couldn't return with another career-defining performance. Plus, look at all that CGI in the trailer, it can't be as good as Fury Road.

Turns out I was silly to doubt George Miller, M.D., A.O., writer and director of Babe: Pig in the City and Happy Feet One & Two.

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga is excellent, and I needn't have worried about it not being as good as Fury Road because it is not remotely trying to be Fury Road. Fury Road is a lean, mean machine with no fat on it, nothing extraneous, operating with constant forward momentum and only occasionally letting up to let you breathe a little; Furiosa is a classical epic, sprawling in scope, scale and structure, and more than happy to let the audience simmer in a quiet, almost painfully still moment. If its opening spoken word sequence by that Gandalf of the Wastes himself, the First History Man, didn't already clue you in, it unfolds like something out of myth, a tale told over and over again and whose possible embellishments are called attention to in the dialogue itself. Where Fury Road scratched the action nerd itch in my head like you wouldn't believe, Furiosa was the equivalent of Miller giving the undulating folds of my English major brain a deep tissue massage. That's great! I, for one, love when sequels/prequels endeavour to be fundamentally different movies from what they're succeeding/preceding, operating in different modes, formats and even genres, and more filmmakers should aim for it when building on an existing series.

This movie has been on my mind so much in the past week that I've ended up dedicating several cognitive processes to keeping track of all of the different ponderings it's spawned. Thankfully, Furiosa is divided into chapters (fun fact: putting chapter cards in your movie is a quick way to my heart), so it only seems fitting that I break up all of these cascading thoughts accordingly.

1. The Pole of Inaccessibility

Furiosa herself actually isn't the protagonist for the first chapter of her own movie, instead occupying the role of a (very crafty and resourceful) damsel in distress for those initial 30-40 minutes. The real hero of the opening act, which plays out like a game of cat and mouse, is Furiosa's mother Mary Jabassa, who rides out into the wasteland first on horseback and then astride a motorcycle to track down the band of raiders that has stolen away her daughter. Mary's brought to life by Miller and Nico Lathouris' economical writing and a magnetic performance by newcomer Charlee Fraser, who radiates so much screen presence in such relatively little time and with one of those instant "who is SHE??" faces. She doesn't have many lines, but who needs them when Fraser can convey volumes about Mary with just a flash of her eyes or the effortless way she swaps out one of her motorcycle's wheels for another. To be quite candid, I'm not sure of the last time I fell in love with a character so quickly.

You notice a neat aesthetic contrast between mother and daughter in retrospect: Mary Jabassa darts into the desert barefoot, clad in a simple yet elegant dress, her wolf cut immaculate, only briefly disguising herself with the ugly armour of a raider she just sniped, and when she attacks it's almost with grace, like some Greek goddess set loose in the post-apocalyptic Aussie outback with just her wits and a bolt-action rifle; we track Furiosa's growth over the years by how much of her initially conventional beauty she has shed, quite literally in one case (hair buzzed, severed arm augmented with a chunky mechanical prosthesis, smeared in grease and dirt from head to toe, growling her lines at a lower octave), and by how she loses her mother's graceful approach to movement and violence, eventually carrying herself like a blunt instrument. Yet I have zero doubt the former raised the latter, both angels of different feathers but with the same steel and resolve. Of fucking course this woman is Furiosa's mother, and in the short time we know her we quickly understand exactly why Furiosa has the drive and morals she does without needing to resort to didactic exposition.

Anyway, I was tearing up by the end of the first chapter. Great start!

2. Lessons from the Wasteland

Most movies—most stories, really—don't actually tell the entire narrative from A to Z. Perhaps the real meat of the thing is found from H to T, and A-G or U-Z are unnecessary for conveying the key narrative and themes. So many prequels fail by insisting on telling the A-G part of the story, explaining how the hero earned a certain nickname or met their memorable sidekick—but if that stuff was actually interesting, they likely would have included it in the original work. The greatest thing a prequel can actually do is recontextualize, putting iconic characters or moments in a new light, allowing you to appreciate them from a different angle. All of season 2 of Fargo serves to explain why Molly Solverson's dad is appropriately wary when Lorne Malvo enters his diner for a SINGLE SCENE in the show's first season. David's arc from the Alien prequels Prometheus and Covenant—polarizing as those entries are—adds another layer to why Ash is so protective of the creature in the first movie. Andor gives you a sense of what it's like for a normal, non-Jedi person to live under the boot of the Empire and why so many of them would join up with the Rebel Alliance—or why they would desire to wear that boot, or even just crave the chance to lick it.

Furiosa is one of those rare great prequels because it makes us take a step back and consider the established world with a little more nuance, even if it's still all so absurd. In Fury Road, Immortan Joe is an awesome, endlessly quotable villain, completely irredeemable, and basically a cartoon. He works perfectly as the antagonist of that breakneck, Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote-ass movie, but if you step outside of its adrenaline-pumping narrative for even a moment you risk questioning why nobody in the Citadel or its surrounding settlements has risen up against him before. Hell, why would Furiosa even work for him to begin with? But then you see Dementus and company tear-assing around the wasteland, seizing settlements and running them into the ground, and you realize Joe and his consortium offer something that Dementus reasonably can't: stability—granted, an unwavering, unchangeable stability weighted in favour of Joe's own brutal caste system, but stability nonetheless. It really makes you wonder, how badly does a guy have to suck to make IMMORTAN JOE of all people look like a sane, competent and reasonable ruler by comparison?!?

…and then they open the door to the vault where he keeps his wives, and in a flash you're reminded just how awful Joe is and why Furiosa will risk her life to help some of these women flee from him years later. This new context enriches Joe and makes it more believable that he could maintain power for so long, but it doesn't make him any less of a monster, and it says a lot about Furiosa's hate for Dementus that she could grit her teeth and work for this sick old tyrant.

3. The Stowaway

Here's another wild bit of trivia about this movie: you don't actually see top-billed actress Anya Taylor-Joy pop up on screen until roughly halfway through, once Furiosa is in her late teens/early twenties. Up until this point she's been played by Alyla Browne, who through the use of some seamless and honestly really impressive CGI has been given Anya's distinctive bug eyes [complimentary]. It's one of those bold choices that really works because Miller commits to it so hard, though it does make me wish Browne's name was up on the poster next to Taylor-Joy's.

Speaking of CGI, I should talk about what seems to be a sticking point for quite a few people: if there's been one consistent criticism of Furiosa so far, it's that it doesn't look nearly as practical or grounded as Fury Road, with more obvious greenscreen and compositing, and what previously would've been physical stunt performers and pyrotechnics have been replaced with their digital equivalents for many shots. Simply put, it doesn't look as real! For a lot of people, that practicality was one of Fury Road's primary draws, so I won't try to quibble if they're let down by Furiosa's overt artificiality, but to be honest I'm actually quite fine with it. It helps that this visual discrepancy doesn't sneak up on you but is incredibly apparent right from the aerial zoom-down into Australia in the very first scene, so I didn't feel misled or duped.

Fury Road never asks you to suspend your disbelief because it all looks so believable; Furiosa jovially prods you to suspend that disbelief from the get-go and tune into it on a different wavelength. It's a classical epic, and like the classical epics of the 1950s and 60s it has a lot of actors standing in front of what clearly are matte paintings. It feels right! We're not watching fact, we're watching myth. I'm willing to concede there might be a little bit of post-hoc rationalization on my part because I simply love this movie so much, but I'm not holding the effects in Furiosa to the same standard as those in Fury Road because I simply don't believe Miller and his crew are attempting to replicate that approach. Without the extensive CGI, we don't get that impressive long, panning take where a stranded Furiosa scans the empty, dust-and-sun-scoured wasteland (75% Sergio Leone, 25% Andrei Tarkovsky), or the Octoboss and his parasailing goons. For the sake of intellectual exercise I did try imagining them filming the Octoboss/war rig sequence with the same immersive practical approach they used for Fury Road's stunts, however I just kept picturing dead stunt performers, so perhaps the tradeoff was worth it!

4. Homeward

Around the same time we meet the Taylor-Joy-pilled Furiosa in Chapter 3, we're introduced to Praetorian Jack, the chief driver for the convoys running between the Citadel and its allied settlements. Jack's played by Tom Burke, who pulled off a very good Orson Welles in Mank! and who I should really check out in The Souvenir one of these days. He's also a cool dude! Here are some facts about Praetorian Jack:

He's decked out in road leathers with a pauldron stitched to one shoulder

He's stoic and wary, but still more or less personable and can carry on a conversation

Professes to a certain cynicism, to quote Special Agent Albert Rosenfield, but ultimately has a capacity for kindness and will do the right thing

Shoots a gun real good

Can drive like nobody's business

So in other words, Jack is Mad Max. But also, no, he clearly isn't! He looks and dresses like Mad Max (particularly Mel Gibson's) and does a lot of the same things "Mad" Max Rockatansky does, but he's also very explicitly a distinct character. It's a choice that seems inexplicable and perhaps even lazy on its face, except this is a George Miller movie, so of course this parallel is extremely purposeful. Miller has gone on record saying he avoids any kind of strict chronology or continuity for his Mad Max movies, compared to the rigid canons for Star Trek and Star Wars, and bless him for doing so. It's more fun viewing each Mad Max entry as a new revision or elaboration on a story being told again and again generations after the fall, mutating in style, structure and focus with every iteration, becoming less grounded as its core narrative is passed from elder to youth, community to community, genre to genre, until it becomes myth. (At least, my English major brain thinks it's more fun.) In fact there's actually something Arthurian to it, where at first King Arthur was mentioned in several Welsh legends before Geoffrey of Monmouth crafted an actual narrative around him, then Chrétien de Troyes added elements like Lancelot and infused the stories with more romance, and then with Le Morte d'Arthur Thomas Malory whipped the whole cycle together into one volume, which T.H. White would chop and screw and deconstruct with The Once and Future King centuries later.

All this to say: maybe Praetorian Jack looks and sounds and acts like Max because he sorta kinda basically is, being just one of many men driving back and forth across the wasteland, lending a hand on occasion, who'll be conflated into a single, legendary "Mad Max" at some point down the line in a different History Man's retelling of Furiosa's odyssey. Sometimes that Max rips across the desert in his V8 Interceptor, other times driving a big rig. Perhaps there's a dog tagging along and/or a scraggly and at first aggravating ally played by Bruce Spence or Nicholas Hoult. Usually he has a shotgun. But so long as you aren't trying to kill him, he'll help you out.

5. Beyond Vengeance

The Mad Max movies have incredibly iconic villains—Immortan Joe! Toecutter! the Lord Humongous!—but they are exactly that, capital V Villains devoid of humanizing qualities who you can't wait to watch bad things happen to. Furiosa appears to continue this trend by giving us a villain who in fact has a mustache long enough that he could reasonably twirl it if he so wanted, but ironically Dementus ends up being the most layered antagonist in the entire series, even moreso than the late Tina Turner's comparatively benevolent Aunty Entity from Beyond Thunderdome. And because he's played by Chris Hemsworth, whose comedic delivery rivals his stupidly handsome looks, you lock in every time he's on screen.

Something so fascinating about Dementus is that, for a main antagonist, he's NOT all-powerful, and in fact quite the opposite: he's more conman than warlord, looking for the next hustle, the next gullible crowd he can preach to and dupe—though never for long. For all his bluster, at every turn he finds himself in way over his head and writing cheques he can't cash, and this self-induced Sisyphean torment makes him riveting to watch. You're tempted to pity Dementus but it's also quite difficult to spare sympathy for someone who's so quick to channel their rage and hurt and ego into thoughtless, burn-it-all-down destruction. When you're not laughing at him, you're hating his guts, and it's indisputably the best work of Chris Hemsworth's career.

It's in this final chapter that everything naturally comes to a head: Furiosa's final evolution into the character we meet at the start of Fury Road, the predictable toppling of Dementus' precariously built house of cards, and the mythmaking that has been teased since the very first scene becoming diagetic text, the last of which allows the movie to thoroughly explore the themes of vengeance it's been building to. A brief war begins, is summarized and is over in the span of roughly a minute, and on its face it's a baffling narrative choice that most other filmmakers would have botched. But our man Miller's smart enough to recognize that the result of this war is the most foregone of conclusions if you've been paying even the slightest bit of attention, so he effectively brushes past it to get to the emotional heart of the climax and an incredible "Oh shit!" payoff that cements Miller as one of mainstream cinema's greatest sickos.

Fury Road remains the greatest Mad Max film, but Furiosa might be the best thing George Miller has ever made. If not his magnum opus, it does at least feel like his dissertation, and it makes me wish Warner Bros. puts enough trust in him despite Furiosa's poor box office performance that he's able to make The Wasteland. Absolutely ridiculous that a man just short of his 80th birthday was able to pull this off, and with it I feel confident calling him one of my favourite directors.

[gdinthehouseee]

Valentine's: KWON JI-YONG x READER

summary: a steamy valentine's date with ji-yong in his penthouse

word count: 6397

tags: fluff, mature (for spice? steam? there's no actual smut)

ao3 link

It was finally Valentine’s day. You had spent the night back at your own place, something you haven’t done in probably months ever since you started dating Ji-yong—practically already moved in together at his place instead. Last night, he told you he wanted this day to be special, so you figured you would go home for the night in order to put some real effort into your look tonight. Naturally, this morning, you spent hours making sure everything was perfect: everything from your outfit to the gift you bought him. At least it was easier to hide that. 

Finally, the sun had set and it was time for the real fun to begin.

The scent of something rich and savory fills the air as you step into Ji-yong’s penthouse, the warm lighting casting soft shadows across the sleek interior. Your eyes immediately land on him—standing by the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up, a soft smile playing on his lips as he stirs a pot on the stove.

“You’re just in time, aein.” He says smoothly, glancing over his shoulder to give you a once-over. His gaze lingers a little longer than necessary. “Did you dress up just for me?”

You scoff, setting your bag down. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one who looks like you’re about to seduce someone.”

“Maybe I am.”

Before you can fire back, he closes the distance between you and reaches for your hand, guiding it to his chest dramatically. “Feel that? My heart’s racing already. You really do have that effect on me.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You roll your eyes, but your expression betrays you as you keep your hand over his heart.

“You know you love it,” he teases, tugging you closer until you’re nearly flush against him. “Now, if you’ll behave and keep me company, I might even let you taste what I’m cooking.”

He tilts his head, eyes sparkling with mischief and flickering towards your lips before meeting your gaze again. “Or, you could just taste me instead. Your choice.”

“Ji,” you whined. “What’s gotten into you?”

Thankfully, your bashful smile let him know that you were both enjoying his boldness. No matter how much you rolled your eyes or tried to act unaffected, the soft curve of your lips gave you away every time. Ji-yong lived for that—watching the way your defenses crumbled under his charm, the way your gaze flickered between playful defiance and quiet surrender. It was a game he loved playing, pushing just enough to make you flustered, but never too much to overwhelm you. And judging by the warmth creeping up your cheeks, he was winning.

“Am I not allowed to flirt with my girl?” He jokingly pouted, one hand remained over your hand on his chest while his other hand found its home at your waist. 

“Of course you are.” 

“That’s what I thought,” he said before pressing a quick peck to your lips. “C’mon, let my cooking impress you instead.” 

The countertop is lined with ingredients, a simmering pot sending out a rich, mouthwatering aroma. You watch as he moves effortlessly around the kitchen, confident in every step. He grabs a spoon, dips it into the sauce, and turns to you with that signature smirk still plastered on his face. “Here. Taste.”

You lean in slightly, expecting him to hold out the spoon properly, but instead, he lifts it higher—forcing you to tilt your head back as he guides it between your lips. The warmth of the sauce spreads across your tongue, but all you can focus on is the way Ji-yong’s gaze drops to your lips, his smirk deepening.

“Good?” He asks, his voice lower now.

You swallow, trying not to show how flustered you suddenly feel. “Yeah. It’s really good.”

He hums in satisfaction, but instead of stepping back, he raises a finger and swipes it across the corner of your lips. “You had a little something…” He brings his finger to his own lips and licks it off, his eyes locked onto yours the entire time. “Can’t waste it.”

You scoff, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he muses, tilting his head, “you’re still here.” He leans in just a fraction closer, his voice dropping. “Does that mean you like it when I tease you, jagiya?”

You roll your eyes and turn toward the counter, forcing yourself to focus on something—anything—other than the way he’s looking at you. “You clearly need supervision, so I’m helping.”

“Helping? That’s cute.”

“I know how to cook, you know.”

“Sure you do,” he teases, stepping behind you so close that you can feel his breath on your neck. Before you can respond, his hands slide over yours, effortlessly guiding them to the knife on the counter. “Let me see, then.”

Your fingers tighten slightly on the handle, heat radiating from his body behind you. “Ji-yong.”

“Hm?” He rests his chin on your shoulder, completely unfazed. “I’m just helping, right?”

You exhale sharply, trying to ignore the way his voice drips with amusement. “I don’t need you hovering over me.”

He hums as if considering your words, then suddenly reaches around you, grabbing an ingredient from the counter—brushing against you just enough to send a jolt up your spine. “Ah, my bad,” he murmurs, lips dangerously close to your ear. “Didn’t mean to get in your way.”

You whip around, intending to glare at him properly, but the moment you do, he lifts a small piece of fruit to your lips. “Open up, aein.”

“What—”

“Shh.” He taps the fruit against your bottom lip, a lazy smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Be good and try it.”

Despite your attempt to act like you were annoyed with him, you open your mouth, and he places it on your tongue, his fingers lingering a little too long. His eyes flicker down, watching the way your lips close around it.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” he murmurs, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You chew slowly, refusing to let him see just how much he’s getting to you. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

He grins. “Of course I am.” He picks up another piece, twirling it between his fingers. “The question is… are you?”

You swallow, willing yourself not to fall into his trap. Instead, you decide to turn the tables. Two can play this game. With a slow, deliberate movement, you step closer, reaching past him to grab a piece of fruit for yourself. He watches, amused, as you bring it to your lips—but instead of eating it right away, you pause. You roll the fruit lightly between your fingers, letting your lips hover just above it, pretending to inspect it. “Hmm,” you hum thoughtfully, glancing at him through your lashes. “I don’t know… do you think I should try it, Ji-yong?”

His smirk falters just slightly—his eyes flicker to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze. You don’t give him a chance to recover. Slowly, so excruciatingly slowly, you bring the fruit to your mouth and take a bite, your lips just barely brushing your fingers. Your tongue flicks out to catch the sweetness, and you swear you hear Jiyong’s breath hitch.

You let out a small, pleased hum as you chew, tilting your head. “Mmm. You were right. It’s good.”

His smirk is still there, but his jaw tenses slightly. “Glad you approve.”

You take another bite, even slower this time, then reach up with your thumb to wipe the juice lingering at the corner of your lips. His eyes track the movement immediately. For the final blow, you bring your thumb to your lips—just like he did earlier—and suck the sweetness away, holding eye contact the entire time.

Ji-yong stills. You see it—the exact moment the teasing backfires on him. His smirk wavers, his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, you even heard the way his breath hitched. For once, he doesn’t have a witty comeback.

Satisfied, you tilt your head. “Something wrong?”

Jiyong exhales, slow and measured, before abruptly closing the distance between you.

“Oh, aein,” he murmurs, tilting your chin up with just two fingers. His gaze is dangerously dark now, heated in a way that makes your stomach flip. “You really wanna play this game with me?”

You blink innocently. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He chuckles, but there’s a sharp edge to it now. His hand doesn’t drop from your chin—instead, his thumb brushes along your jawline, slow and teasing.

“You’re cute,” he murmurs, his lips so close you can feel his breath. “But you should know better than to tease me, princess.”

Before you can react, his other hand suddenly slides down, gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your breath catches, and he grins, fully aware of what he’s doing to you.

“Now,” he says, voice nothing but smooth velvet, “let’s see how long you can keep up, hmm?”

Oh. You’re in trouble.

His grip on your waist tightens, holding you exactly where he wants you. His smirk is still there, but there’s something darker behind it now—something that makes your pulse skyrocket. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t finish this game he started. Not that either of you want to stop playing.

“You’ve been getting bold,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles against your hip. “Teasing me like that. Acting all innocent when we both know you’re not.”

You refuse to back down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, keeping your voice steady despite the way your heart is slamming against your ribs.

Ji-yong lets out a low, knowing hum. “No?”

Before you can react, he shifts, caging you in completely—his arm sliding around your lower back, his other hand pressing flat against the counter beside you. He leans in, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“Then why,” he murmurs, voice rich with amusement, “do you look like you’re about to melt?”

You inhale sharply, trying to keep your composure. But it’s impossible when his presence is so overwhelming—the scent of him, the heat of his body, the way his lips are hovering over your skin, never quite touching, but making you ache for it anyway.

You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze, challenging him right back. “If anyone’s about to melt, it’s you,” you whisper.

Ji-yong exhales sharply through his nose—a laugh, but barely. His grip tightens, his body pressing into yours just enough to make you shiver.

“Oh?” He muses, tilting his head. “That so?”

His hand on your waist slides lower, fingers grazing over the curve of your hip—slow, deliberate, teasing. He’s watching you, studying the way your breath catches, how your fingers clutch at the counter behind you.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, the space between you is gone.

His lips brush against your jaw, featherlight, before ghosting down your neck. It’s barely a touch, but it’s enough to make your stomach tighten. However, he can’t help himself as he begins to kiss your jawline. Slow and soft pecks trailing down your jaw and your neck, until he reaches your collarbone.

“Still think I’m the one melting?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice so dangerously low it sends a shiver down your spine.

Your fingers instinctively grip his shirt, as if holding onto something solid will keep you from completely losing yourself in him. Of course, he notices, and he grins against your neck.

“You’re already falling apart for me.”

Your head is spinning, your breath uneven, but how could it not be? Ji-yong is right there, pressing against you like he has no intention of letting go—and God, he looks unfairly good doing it.

The dim lighting casts soft shadows over his sharp features, highlighting the mischief in his eyes, the slight smirk tugging at his lips, the way his hair falls messily over his forehead like he was made to look this effortlessly perfect. His jaw is so sharp it could cut, his skin so frustratingly smooth it’s unfair, and then—those lips. Lips that are so close to yours now, parted just slightly, so warm against your skin as he teases you without even trying. His scent—clean, expensive, intoxicating—wraps around you like a slow-burning haze, making it impossible to think of anything but him. And then there’s his hands—warm, and so damn sure of themselves, holding you in place, fingers pressing just hard enough to make your stomach tighten. His confidence, the way he looks at you like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, has you completely undone before he even touches you properly. How is it fair that someone can look this good and know exactly how to use it? And worse—how are you supposed to survive it?

And then—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP!

A loud, obnoxious timer shatters the moment.

For a second, neither of you react—both frozen, caught in the tension that had been building like a slow-burning fire.

Then, he exhales sharply, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he lets out a deep, frustrated groan. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters, his grip on your waist flexing like he’s resisting the urge to just ignore it altogether.

You, on the other hand, are biting back a grin. “Ji-yong,” you say, feigning innocence, “I think something’s burning.”

His fingers tighten just slightly before he finally pulls back, shooting a glare toward the kitchen timer like it personally offended him.

“I hate that thing,” he deadpans, jaw clenching as he forces himself to step away from you.

You laugh, still breathless, but can’t help the way your lips curve in satisfaction. “You were the one who insisted on cooking.”

His eyes darken again instantly, and suddenly, you realize teasing him right now might be dangerous. He lets out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders back like he’s trying to shake off the tension that had just settled so thickly between you. His jaw is still tight, and you don’t miss the way his fingers flex before he finally forces himself to step away.

“You’re lucky I care about feeding you,” he mutters, tossing a glance your way as he checks on the food.

You cross your arms, watching the way his back muscles shift under his shirt as he moves around the kitchen. It’s almost unfair—even when he’s frustrated, he looks good enough to ruin you.

“I don’t know,” you muse, leaning against the counter. “Seemed like you cared about something else a lot more just now.”

Ji-yong pauses. For a moment, he just stands there, hands braced against the counter, before he slowly—so slowly—turns to face you again.

“Oh?” His voice is deceptively light, but his gaze? Dangerous. “Are you saying you’d rather skip dinner?”

“Didn’t say that.”

He hums, his eyes still too intense as he starts plating the food. “Good,” he murmurs, sliding a plate in front of you before leaning in just slightly. “Because you’re gonna need the energy later.”

Your stomach flips, and you hate how easily he turns the tables back on you. He grins, knowing exactly what he’s doing, before grabbing his own plate and nodding toward the dining table. “C’mon, aein. Let’s eat.”

You exhale, trying to calm the warmth in your cheeks, before following him.

He lights a few candles, their soft glow casting warm flickers of light across the sleek tabletop. The ambient dimness makes the setting feel far too intimate, like something straight out of a private five-star restaurant. He places the plates down with precision, adjusting them like an artist perfecting his masterpiece. A bottle of expensive wine appears next, because of course he has that on hand, followed by two glasses that catch the light just right. He even adds a small vase with a single rose—a dramatic touch, but so undeniably him. When he finally steps back, admiring his work, he catches you staring and smirks. “What?” he teases, tilting his head. “Didn’t think I’d put in the effort?”

Your gaze flickers back to Ji-yong, who’s watching you with that infuriatingly smug expression, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“I just…” You trail off, lips parting slightly as you glance at the setup again. “I wasn’t expecting all this.”

He leans casually against the chair, his smirk only growing. “You wound me, aein,” he sighs dramatically. “Do you really think I’d invite you over for dinner and not make it perfect?”

“Perfect, huh?”

He shrugs, stepping closer—too close. “Well,” he murmurs, eyes glinting as he reaches for the wine, “it’ll be perfect once you sit down and let me pour you a drink.”

You finally sink into your chair, still feeling a little dazed from how effortlessly Jiyong managed to make this dinner feel so special. He pours you a glass of wine first, his fingers steady and graceful, before taking his own seat across from you. For a moment, there’s a comfortable silence. The soft glow of the candles flickers between you, casting shadows over his sharp features. He watches you as you take the first bite, eyes filled with genuine curiosity.

“Well?” He asks, resting his chin on his palm, waiting for your reaction.

You pretend to consider, chewing slowly as if deep in thought.

His eyes narrow. “Don’t even—”

Before he can finish, you let out a dramatic sigh, setting your fork down. “I guess it’s okay…”

Ji-yong scoffs, rolling his eyes, but there’s amusement flickering behind them. “You’re such a brat,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Give me that.”

Before you can stop him, he reaches across the table with his own fork, stealing a bite from your plate. His expression shifts almost immediately—satisfaction mixed with pure smugness.

“Yeah,” he hums, chewing slowly. “Tastes like perfection. Just like I thought.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small, genuine smile tugging at your lips. “You really know how to fish for compliments, huh?”

He tilts his head, a lazy grin forming. “I don’t need to fish for them. I already know I’m amazing.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

But as you glance around the table—the candles flickering, the way he watches you between bites, the small, intimate details he put into everything—you realize something: he didn’t have to do all this. When it comes to showing his love for you, Ji-yong loves extravagance, sure, but this dinner? This was different. This wasn’t for show. This wasn’t for anyone else. This was for you.

Your heart softens, and without thinking, you murmur, “Thank you, Ji.”

He pauses mid-bite, blinking at you like he wasn’t expecting that. “For what?”

You shrug, nudging a piece of food around your plate. “For this. For making it special.”

His smirk falters for just a second before something warmer takes its place. He leans back in his chair, watching you closely, his teasing tone now laced with something softer.

“Of course, aein,” he murmurs, lips quivering. “You deserve it.”

And just like that, your heart is completely gone.

Dinner continues at a slow, unhurried pace, both of you enjoying the food and each other’s company. The teasing ebbs into easy conversation, laughter spilling effortlessly between bites, and for a while, it’s just… nice. Comfortable. Like the world outside doesn’t exist. He watches you fondly as you take another bite, his elbow resting on the table, chin propped up on his hand. He’s been staring at you like that for a while now—like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

“What?” you ask, lips twitching as you meet his gaze.

“Nothing,” he says, swirling his wine glass lazily. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“How cute you look when you’re enjoying your food.”

A flush creeps up your neck before you can stop it. “Oh my god, Jiyong—”

He grins, setting his glass down. “What? It’s true.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table as his voice drops just slightly, just enough to make your stomach flip. “You make the smallest happy noises when you like something. It’s adorable.”

Your mouth opens—ready to argue, ready to defend yourself—but then you realize you can’t even deny it. He must’ve been paying such close attention to notice that. And that realization? It makes your heart ache in the best way.

You clear your throat, playing with the stem of your glass just to avoid looking directly at him. “You notice too much.”

Jiyong exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head. “I just notice you.”

The words settle between you, gentle but weighted, sinking in like warmth spreading through your chest. There’s no teasing in his voice this time. Just honesty. That’s more dangerous than any flirtation. For a moment, you just look at him—this man who could have anyone, who could be anywhere, but right now, he’s here. With you. Watching you like you’re the only thing worth paying attention to.

“…You’re not so bad yourself, you know,” you finally murmur, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He starts grinning as if he had just won something. “Oh, I know.”

“Unbelievable.” You groan, tossing a napkin at him.

But even as you shake your head, you can’t stop the softness creeping into your smile. By the time dinner winds down, you feel light, warm, and completely at ease. The teasing has softened into something quieter, something closer, as you sit across from Jiyong in the glow of candlelight, your empty plates long forgotten.

Ji-yong finishes the last sip of his wine, then sets his glass down with a satisfied sigh. “Not bad for a home-cooked meal, right?”

You tilt your head, pretending to consider. “Mmm… I guess you can keep your title as a decent chef.”

He scoffs, clearly unimpressed by your lack of enthusiasm. “Decent?” He stands, making his way over to you, his smirk lazy but his eyes holding something softer. “Jagiya, you practically moaned over that food.”

Your jaw drops. “I did not—”

He laughs, reaching out to take your hand. “Come on,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, quieter. “I have something else planned.”

Before you can ask what, he tugs you up from your seat, guiding you toward the spacious living area. The city skyline stretches out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a breathtaking backdrop to the moment. But it’s not what captures your attention. It’s the way he holds your hand so naturally, like he was always meant to.

“What are we doing?” You ask, looking up at him.

“Dancing.”

He reaches for a remote and clicks a button. Within seconds, soft, slow music fills the space, blending seamlessly into the ambience of the night.

Your breath catches slightly. “You planned this?”

Ji-yong’s fingers thread through yours, his other hand settling lightly at your waist. His touch is warm, steady—so sure of itself, like he’s been waiting for this.

“I told you,” he murmurs, leading you into an easy sway. “I wanted tonight to be perfect.”

Your heart stumbles, warmth spreading through your chest like honey. How does he do this? How does he make you melt with just a few words?

“You’re so dramatic,” you tease, but your voice is softer now, barely above a whisper.

He grins, pulling you just a little closer. “And you love it.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t deny it because right now, wrapped up in his arms, your bodies moving in slow rhythm beneath the dim glow of the penthouse lights, you can’t remember a time when you felt this safe. And when Jiyong’s hand slides up your back, his touch gentle but grounding, you know—you don’t want this night to end.

His grip on your hand tightens just slightly before he lifts it, guiding you into a slow, effortless twirl. You let yourself spin under his touch, the motion making the hem of your outfit shift slightly, your hair catching the light just right. For that brief moment, everything feels weightless—dreamlike. But when you turn back to face him, you catch the way he’s looking at you. His gaze roams over you slowly, deliberately, like he has every intention of memorizing you. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips, his dark eyes drinking in every single detail as if seeing you for the first time.

Warmth rushes to your face as you clear your throat, shifting slightly under his stare. “What?” you ask, trying—and failing—to sound unaffected.

He tilts his head, amusement flickering in his expression as he tugs you closer again, resuming your slow sway. His voice drops, low and utterly sincere.

“You’re beautiful.”

Your breath catches. Not cute. Not pretty. Beautiful. And the way he says it—so effortlessly, like it’s just a fact—makes your heart stumble.

“Getting shy, are we?”

You groan, feeling the heat creep up your neck. “You are so—”

“Charming? Handsome? Completely smitten with you?”

You huff, looking away, but that only makes him grin wider. And then, in a move that’s entirely unfair, he leans in, his lips brushing just beneath your ear as he murmurs, “Don’t look away. I meant it.”

Your stomach flips.

Oh, he’s serious. So serious.

He pulls back just enough to look at you again, his expression warm, unreadable, and maybe even a little too tender. His hand lifts, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a touch so gentle it nearly undoes you.

"You should hear it more often," he muses, voice low and honeyed.

Your lips part, but no words come out—because how are you supposed to respond when he says things like that?

He watches your reaction, his teasing smile softening. His arms tighten around you as he spins you playfully again, stealing another lingering glance before pulling you back into him. His gaze is nothing short of adoring.

The soft melody still lingers in the air, but you stop moving first.

Ji-yong’s brow lifts as you take a step back, though his grip on your waist tightens, like he’s not ready to let you go. His lips curl. “What, done with me already?”

You grin, tilting your head. “Maybe.”

His smirk falters. Just slightly. You take advantage of the moment, slipping from his hold to retrieve something from where you’d hidden it earlier. You don’t miss the way his eyes follow you.

“Relax, I’m not leaving,” you tease, casting him a glance over your shoulder. “I just have something for you.”

When you turn back, holding a small, neatly wrapped box, Jiyong looks genuinely surprised. His gaze flickers between the gift and your face, and for once, he seems… speechless.

“You got me something?” He finally asks, like the idea never occurred to him.

You smirk, stepping closer. Close enough that he has no choice but to focus on you.

“Of course,” you murmur, trailing a finger down the front of his shirt, just to see his reaction. “What kind of partner would I be if I didn’t?”

Jiyong inhales, but his smirk returns—a little slower this time. “That’s what I normally say.”

“Not anymore.” You grin, pressing the box into his hands. “Now, open it.”

He watches you for a second longer, like he’s trying to figure out what game you’re playing. Then, finally, he pulls at the ribbon and lifts the lid.

The moment he sees what’s inside, his smirk fades.

The bracelet inside is sleek, but there’s a personal touch—a custom engraving on the inside. Jiyong’s thumb drags over it, his eyes lingering.

“You really know me, huh?” His voice is softer now.

“Obviously.”

His gaze snaps back to yours immediately. This time, there’s something different—an intensity that wasn’t there a second ago. For the first time tonight, you feel like you have him cornered. Slowly, you reach for his wrist, lifting it between both of yours. “Here,” you murmur. “Let me put it on for you.”

His fingers twitch slightly when your fingertips brush against his skin. You don’t rush. Instead, you take your time. He exhales slowly as you fasten the clasp, his usual teasing nowhere to be found. His gaze stays locked on your face, but there’s a flicker of something else. Something like anticipation. Restraint.

“You’re quiet.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “Am I?”

“Mmhmm.” You run your fingers over his wrist deliberately, letting your touch linger. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

His jaw tenses. Oh, this is fun.

You let your fingers trace the bracelet just a little longer than necessary, then glance up at him through your lashes. You can see it now—the tiniest hint of pink dusting his ears. He knows what you’re doing. And he can’t stop it. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his voice coming out a little rougher than before. “You’re playing with fire, aein.”

You smile innocently. “I have no idea what you mean.”

His gaze darkens—and just like that, the shift happens. His fingers catch your wrist mid-movement, grip firm but careful. His smirk is back, a little lazier now, a little more dangerous. “You think you can tease me?” he murmurs, tilting his head. His thumb brushes against your pulse point, slow and deliberate. “That’s cute.”

Your breath hitches—not because of his words, but because of the way he says them. He steps closer.

“I should give you something too,” he muses. His grip doesn’t loosen. “Something to match.”

Your brows furrow, but before you can even question it, he releases you and disappears into the other room.

And when he returns, dangling from his fingertips, is a delicate necklace.

The necklace swings in Jiyong’s hand, glinting with the soft lighting as he holds it just out of reach. There’s a predatory look in his eyes, the glimmer of amusement dancing across his features as he teases you.

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow, your voice playful but filled with challenge. “You really think I’m just going to beg for this?”

His smile widens, his gaze darkening slightly. “I don’t think you will. I know you will.” His voice drops an octave, dripping with confidence as he steps closer.

You refuse to back down, crossing your arms, determination flooding your veins. “I’m not begging.”

“Oh, but you will,” he murmurs, stepping closer. There’s a dangerous edge to his voice now, though the smile never fades. “You’ll ask. In your own way.”

You scoff, but there’s a flutter in your chest, excitement mixing with the heat he’s radiating. “You’re not getting ‘nice’ from me.”

The corner of his mouth tilts upward, a silent challenge flickering in his gaze. “We’ll see about that.”

Before you can respond, he pulls you into his chest in one swift motion, your back hitting him hard as he spins you around. You gasp, slightly disoriented, but you’re quickly steadied by his hands on your waist. You try to steady yourself, trying to resist the pull of his magnetic presence. “I’m not begging.”

Ji-yong’s lips brush against your ear, his voice low. “You don’t have to beg, but you do need to ask. Nicely.”

He’s testing you, pushing your limits with every word. The coolness of the necklace rests in his hand, so close you can practically taste it. But he doesn’t make a move to put it on you just yet. Instead, he slides the necklace slowly between his fingers, watching you with that quiet intensity. His lips graze your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You’re fighting to maintain control, to keep your composure, but it’s hard with the way he’s acting.

“You know, princess,” he whispers softly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

You try to focus, but his hands slide down your arms, slow, deliberate, every touch purposeful. He leans in, his lips just barely grazing the back of your neck as he savors the moment, lingering for far longer than necessary.

“I’m not begging,” you murmur, but the words are shaky now, losing their strength.

He laughs, soft and rich, a sound full of dark amusement. He moves back slightly, and for a moment, there’s nothing but silence between you two. You try to take a deep breath, but he takes his time, the necklace still dangling loosely from his fingers. Every second feels like an eternity as he looks you over—taking you in, analyzing you.

“Say please,” he demands suddenly, his voice cool and commanding, forcing you to look at him. You try to hold your ground, but the way he’s looking at you—like he’s already won—makes it impossible. His eyes flash darkly as he leans in again, his lips grazing your skin with a lingering kiss along your neck. The warmth of his breath makes your pulse quicken. The tension between you two only grows thicker, more suffocating, until you can’t keep your composure anymore. You shiver slightly, trying to breathe through the moment.

Finally, unable to stand the pressure any longer, you whisper it: “Please, Ji-yong.”

The second the word leaves your lips, his hand moves, quick and sure, as he slides the necklace around your neck. The cool metal is the only thing that cools the fire spreading through your veins. But even after he places the necklace carefully around your throat, his fingers linger for a moment longer than necessary. He adjusts the chain slowly, his fingertips grazing your skin with each touch, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

The way he looks at you now—the satisfaction in his gaze—is almost enough to make you forget everything else.

“Good.” He looks down at you, eyes dark with desire, lips curling just enough to show the power he’s taken from you. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

As he waits for your response, his eyes still locked on yours, you can’t help but smile, your fingers gently brushing over the delicate chain of the necklace he just put on you. The way the soft sparkle catches the light makes you pause, admiring how it fits perfectly around your neck, just like it was made for you.

You tilt your head slightly, your fingers lightly grazing the pendant as you gaze up at him. "You know," you start, your voice soft and filled with admiration, "I can’t stop looking at it."

He watches you, clearly intrigued. "Yeah? You like it?" His voice carries a hint of pride, but there’s something vulnerable in his eyes, too. It’s like he’s hoping you truly appreciate it.

You smile, your fingers gently tracing the necklace, and your eyes lift to meet his. "I love it," you say, your voice warm, sincere. "You really know how to pick the perfect gift."

Ji-yong's gaze softens, his earlier teasing gone as he watches you with a fond expression. "I’m glad," he murmurs, stepping a little closer, his hand gently brushing against yours. "It’s all for you, princess."

For a moment, you both just stand there, the sweet sincerity of the moment filling the space between you. The tension from before fades away, replaced by something softer, more intimate. You catch his eyes again, a small smile on your lips, feeling the weight of the gift and the gesture behind it settle in. You then continue to gaze at the necklace, your fingers tracing its smooth, delicate pendant as you let out a soft sigh. The way it catches the light only seems to make it more beautiful, but it’s not just the gift that’s leaving you speechless—it’s the gesture, the care behind it, and the way Ji-yong’s eyes are locked onto you, full of affection.

"It’s perfect," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, as you lift your gaze to meet his. You’re so focused on the warmth in his eyes, the way he’s watching you, that it’s almost like everything else disappears for a moment.

He steps closer, his hand gently brushing against your cheek as he leans in to kiss you softly. It’s tender, almost too gentle for the electric tension building between you. You can feel the heat of his body pressing into yours, and when he pulls back, his voice is low, almost growling with desire.

"You’re perfect," he murmurs, his lips hovering just above yours. "But I need you now."

Ji-yong doesn’t give you a moment to breathe. As soon as his words sink in, he’s on you again, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that sets your skin ablaze. His hands move with purpose, gripping your waist, pulling you against him until there’s nothing left between you but heat. His kiss is demanding, his tongue sweeping past your lips as he takes everything you’re willing to give—and more.

A soft gasp escapes you as he presses you back against the nearest wall, his body molding to yours, his hands roaming your curves like he can’t stand a single inch of space between you. One hand cups your jaw, angling your face so he can deepen the kiss, while the other slides down, gripping your hip before tugging your thigh up against his. The sheer need in the way he holds you, in the way his fingers dig in just enough to make you gasp, sets your pulse racing.

His kisses grow more urgent, more desperate, as though he’s trying to drown himself in you. He pulls away for just a second, his breath warm against your lips, his eyes dark and full of heat as they flicker over your face. Then he’s back again, kissing you harder, deeper, as if he never wants to stop. His fingers tangle into your hair, tugging just enough to send a sharp thrill down your spine, and the sound you make has him groaning against your mouth.

"You're driving me crazy," he murmurs between kisses, his voice low and rough. "Do you even realize what you do to me?"

“I could say the same about you,” you whisper back, no longer being able to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. You try to squeeze your thighs together for some sort of friction, and he notices. Of course he does.

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah—”

“Good. Because I’m craving something much sweeter.”

taglist: @thanosscrossmain @maskedcrawford @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t @onyxmango @sherrayyyyy @seunghyunwifey @petersasteri

[gleamingseok]

Play me, not the game

One shot: Jungkook’s too busy gaming… but you’re about to show him what real distraction feels like.

pairing: boyfriend Jungkook x reader

genre : boyfriend, smuuuut

___________________________________________

Jungkook was playing for the whole day with his friends and I got bored so I thought I could disturb him a little bit, I knock on his door opened it after a quick come in was said from the other side, 

He was in the middle of an intense match, seeing his fingers flying across the keyboard got me imagining them thrusting inside of me. He glances up as I enter, noticing my short dress. His mind wandering to the thoughts of peeling it off of me and having his way with me.

As if I could read his mind I slowly walk in and decide to straddle his lap his breath hitches as I do so. By the look on his face he can already feel how wet I am, and it takes all his self control to not rip off my dress and fuck me right there. 

I slowly started feeling him getting hard, he then said " i find it so hard to focus on the game when all I can think about is bending you over this desk and fuck you from behind" I smile knowing that I'm getting the attention I am looking for and I grind against him letting him feel my wetness on his short.

I let out a soft moan feeling his cock throbbing in his shorts, begging for release. He leans back in the chair, pulling me closer with his free hand and whisper in my ear "you're gonna be the death of me baby." I then start leaving small kisses on his neck, he groans sending shivers down my spine, I slowly start moving my hand down his chest until it was on top of his clothed cock, I start pulling his shorts slowly and his cock springing free from its confinement.

He lets out a low growl, his hips involuntarily thrusting upwards as I teasingly rub against it. "you're gonna make me mess up big time..." I lean in and whisper in his ear all while I softly stroke his dick " then you have to keep your focus on the game and let me have my fun"  he lets out a sigh of pleasure as I softly stroke his cock, his eyes flickering between the game and the erotic sight. My hands move up and down his length, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

He reaches down to stop me but I gently bat his hand away, I then move my panties to the side and slowly start rubbing his dick between my folds, Jungkook lets out a guttural moan as he felt his dick slicking up with my wetness, I start to slowly sink down onto his dick, his eyes roll back in pleasure and he lets out a growl finding it too difficult to keep his focus on the game. " shit baby you gonna make me loose" 

I then decide to stop moving feeling his dick 

buried inside of me, the sensation is almost unbearable and he lets out a whine of frustration, the temptation to move to feel his thrust is almost overwhelming but I force myself to stay still, I try to subtly adjust my position but accidentally causing his dick to plunge in deeper, his body tenses up and he lets out a strangled moan, his hips bucking involuntary against my motion and it takes everything in me to not start moving.

With a frustrated growl Jungkook toss's his controller aside and grabs my hips, pulling me down onto his cock as he thrust up into me. The sensation is almost too much to bear, and he can feel himself quickly losing control, he leans in close, his breath hot against my ear. "You feel so fucking good, baby...I've been thinking about this all day, imagining how tight and wet you'd be"

He growls softly against my neck, his arms wrapping around me tightly as he continues to thrust into me. "And now here you are, sitting on my lap and driving me crazy... I'm going to make you come so hard, baby...you'll forget your own name..." 

As he pump into me, his breathing gets heavier, and he trail kisses down me neck. "Tell me you like it... tell me how my big dick feels inside you..." his thrusts become faster and deeper, completely losing his earlier restraint. "Fuck, you're perfect..." Feeling myself clenching around him, neither of us  can hold back any longer. He wrap his arms around my waist and flip us over so that he is on top, pounding into me even harder. "Look at me...look at me while you cum..." he leans down, capturing my lips in a heated kiss as he piston his hips against mine, hitting that perfect spot inside me. 

"That's it...cum all over my cock, baby..." his movements become more intense, knowing i am close. "You feel so good..."  

As i moan against his lips, I feel my whole body tense up and then suddenly I am cumming hard, my inner walls clenching around his cock in the most intense orgasm I've ever felt. "Fuck, baby...you're squeezing me so tight...I'm gonna..."

With a final, earth-shattering thrust, he releases inside me, filling me up completely as he collapses on top of me, our bodies glued together by sweat and our combined release. "Baby...baby...you okay?" He pants against your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around you.  

I whimper softly, my body twitching as small aftershocks run through me. He slowly pulls out, making you both moan softly. He sees that my inner thighs are wet with his release that leaked out. "Damn..." He mutters softly, then laughs suddenly. You know, I think you took more of me than usual this time..." He says, his fingers gently tracing patterns on my stomach possessively.

"You need a shower with me later to thoroughly clean up" He finishes with a playful smirk, but there's warmth in his eyes as he gazes down at me tenderly. He leans in to press a soft kiss to my forehead. "For now, let me just hold you a bit longer, yeah?"

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Squid Game AU | Idia Shroud

Working for a secret organization that murdered its players on a massive scale wasn’t as horrifying as it sounds. Granted, it was truly mortifying but you get used to it. You don’t show your face, you don’t flinch, and you listen to the Frontman. If you keep quiet and stay in your lane it isn’t long before you start moving up the ladder. From triangle to circle to square–it was like any other job. Like in any typical occupation if your boss, finds favor in your physique or otherwise you naturally get promoted. Thus was your fate as you went from being a mere circle to becoming the masked servant in the VIP room where you subject yourself to the whims of the richest and most disgusting patrons.

Idia Shroud 

Not many had the privilege of seeing the identity of the Host but you weren’t a part of the many. He was a technical genius, an avid inventor, and the one who loved to switch between his position as the Host and Frontman: Idia Shroud.

Now that you knew the joyful tilde in the disguised voice was made with a toothy smile of a gamer with azure flame-like hair; it made a disturbing amount of sense. No longer could you differentiate the man from his madness when he demanded you call his name in private. 

When you first met him he gave an odd aura, speaking as though he was imitating someone or making fun of whoever he was talking to. It made for an interesting work environment, he would make oddly specific references as he commanded the squares who could only tilt their heads and agree. Usually, you’d practiced your stoicism keeping yourself as robotlike as possible. 

But one meme. 

One reference. 

That has you chuckling and answering the Frontman, who seemed to freeze behind his mask still turned in your direction. He continues on acting as if nothing happened and you worry that you may have embarrassed yourself in front of your boss. Only to be broken out of your routine by one of the squares who handed you folded clothes and gave you instructions to begin your job as a VIP waiter. 

So maybe he did like it?

“You’re the new waiter, right?”

You nodded. 

“Good. You like it, here?”

“...Yes.”

“Good.”

The interaction was so curt and quick that you missed the skip in his step. It doesn’t take long for you to realize whoever is behind the frontman’s mask is also the one pretending to dress up as whatever shape employee you need to interact with. At that point, it makes you tirelessly paranoid as you feel the possible pressure of your boss constantly watching you.

And while you think you might have hidden your fear behind your masks, guess who’s got heavy surveillance on your room? He sees the way you pace on your time off and the recordings of you whispering affirmations in the bathroom. He enjoys seeing your cute reactions when he scares you a bit or how you tilt your head when you're trying to guess if it's him. But he loves you more. And if his kitten is feeling skittish he’ll change your environment. 

“You. Come with me.”

You nod, sending a look to the other VIP waiters who express their worry with as little expression as possible. Following the Host whose appearances were so far and in between would mean instant death should you disappoint. But with as many things in your life, you expected who this was. 

“...Sir?”

The Host turns their head to you, stopping in his tracks. 

‘How dare you?’

You sighed harnessing your courage as you continued.

“I know who you are…you’re the one who's been behind the masks right?”

He stayed in place.

“The one who’s left those memes in my room. That was you, right?”

He turned fully around. Facing you with his arms behind his back.

“And if I am?”

You didn’t actually know. You just wanted to be sure. To throw away this facade of deception. You wanted the truth. 

“I would prefer it if you just told me it was you. Rather than pretending you were someone else.”

A bellied voice-modified laughter emanated from the Host. He grabbed his wrist, subtly clicking at a device on his arm. Before returning to cradle his stomach. 

“Awfully bold of you to approach your boss like this.”

Perhaps your relocation could wait.

[ellaa-writes]

Ghost who you met at a club. Maybe it's Johnny's bachelor party or something.

He hates crowded spaces and loud environments. As soon as he entered through the doors he had to fight the urge to turn back around and walk out. Already itching for a cigarette, Soap led the pack straight to the bar. Ordering a round of shots for the 4 men, John whispering in Ghosts ear about "let him have his fun" and Ghosts hissing back "i ain't baby sittin' his ass". He guesses this is better than the strip club he wanted them to go to first, thankfully Kyle said let's pre-game a little. Ghost hopes that means Johnny'll get to drunk to remember.

Not even an hour in and Soaps already crying about his bride. Ghost pats John on the back and motions for a ciggy. Leaving the two men to calm down Soap. The air in the club was stuffy, but Ghosts nose has been broken too many times to count and doesn't work properly anyways.

"shit" Ghost snaps his head in the direction of you, fumbling with your half broken cigarette, trying to get the damned lighter to work. Sighing loudly he walks over and hands you his already lit cigarette right from his mouth. You hesitantly take it, letting out a quick "thanks". Ghost already had a new one lit for himself before walking back over to his spot.

Crushing the butt under his boots before walking back inside. He finds the table empty but the glasses and jackets still there. Kyle seeks him out, say something about Johnny wanting to dance. So Ghost sits back in the chair, looking at his watch around his thick wrist. Someone plops a tall beer in front of him, looking up to catch the worker about to walk away. He calls out "didnt' order this" the worker shrugs and walks off. He eyes it suspiciously before taking a drink. "sorry, i didn't know what you liked. you seem like a beer guy." it was you again.

Standing next to him awkwardly, shifting from leg to leg. He finally gets a good look at you. Dress to short, nearly riding up your ass, thick thighs on display. Cute little heels, red toe nails. He smirks to himself, gesturing for you to take a seat. "its' all good sweetheart." you blush and tell him your name, "what's yours?" you ask back, "my what?" he teases and you laugh, the noise sending shock waves right to his cock. "your name, what's your name?" he thinks about it a little "Ghost" you raise an eyebrow at him. "Ghost? What kind of name is that?" you laugh again. "what, you don't like it" he pouts. "no, i didn't say that. it's just.... odd". Ghost barks out a laugh, he likes you.. a lot.

"what's got you out here dressed like that." he motions to your too short of dress. You blush again and fidget with the hem of your dress. "friends, girls night i guess." Ghost thinks quick. "well how bout you ditch those friends and come back to mine?" it takes you a second to think about it, slowly nodding you head. "ok". Ghost rising from his seat, pulling you with him. He tucks a hundred into John's coat pocket, not bothering to say goodbye as he drags you out of the club. Lucky for you he drove himself.

[bumblesimagines]

Imagine:

Having the attention of Oberyn

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Oberyn being clingy

~~~

Vipers were notorious creatures; quick, deadly, and adept hunters who'd strike and catch their prey before the poor creature even realized its intentions. They were beautiful with scales that glimmered under direct sunlight, smooth to the touch as they slithered against the skin, entrancing with their beauty and charm. The Red Viper was perhaps the most deadly with his ability to dance on the line between a vicious warrior and a dutiful lover. 

But alas, even with their sweet words and gentle touches, one always had to be careful of growing attached to a viper.

With the sun beginning to rise over the dunes in the east and chasing night away with its light, (Y/N) similarly went with the shadows. He moved quietly, managing to untangle himself from the prince without waking him and collecting the clothes Oberyn had haphazardly tossed around his room. Mindful of the crinkling of the clothes, he slipped them back on and spared the sleeping prince one last glance, ensuring his chest continued its steady rise and fall and his eyes remained closed. 

It was not uncommon for figures to be seen coming and going from the bedchambers of the prince, ladies and men alike slipping away for whatever reason after spending a night with Oberyn. Servants barely batted an eye at him when he stepped out into the halls, merely smiling and murmuring greetings before continuing down the halls. (Y/N) could only return the knowing smiles as he returned to his room, finding relief in the fact his elder brother remained in Starfall, although the whispers would no doubt reach him in no time. Those who resided in Sunspear or even in the shadow city sitting at the feet of the castle knew of Oberyn's infatuation with him, how he frequently courted and flirted but was left brushed aside. A game of chase they both equally enjoyed.

"And so you've finally fallen into his jaws," A husky voice purred right as he reached the doors of his bedchambers, hardly needing much else to identify who the voice belonged to. He pushed his door open and turned to face the heiress of Sunspear with the hint of a grin on his lips. "It was only a matter of time. Shame, though," Arianne batted her long lashes, slim fingers toying coyly with one of her dark curls. "I hoped to catch you first." 

"I'm not one of your little knights, Ari." (Y/N) replied, chuckling when her lips formed an exaggerated pout. "Nor am I my cousin."

"You most certainly are not." She laughed, crossing the distance swiftly and tossing her arms around him, purposefully pressing up against him and making use of the sheer silks she so often enjoyed wearing. With her shorter structure, she had to tilt her head up to look at him as she did with everyone else, flashing another smile. "You are much more interesting than Gerold. But alas, I love my uncle, and I will not steal his catch unless he decides to share." 

"Run along then, Ari." (Y/N) gave a small eye-roll, listening to her laugh echo down the hall when she retreated, the purple skirt of her dress flowing freely behind her. 

Once the sun rose and stepped out of hiding, (Y/N) knew it'd only be a matter of time before Oberyn would be on the prowl again, no doubt more determined to find him once he realized he'd snuck out of bed. He kept himself on the move, visiting his usual spots but only lingering long enough for a servant or courtier to be able to point Oberyn in the right direction.

It'd always been fun; pretending as if he wasn't fully aware he was being hunted down by the Red Viper. It'd started as youths when his parents had brought him to Sunspear, back when his siblings, Arthur and Ashara, as well as Elia Martell, were still living and breathing. (Y/N) had never given in to the prince, but he supposed Oberyn had caught him in a better mood than usual.

(Y/N) peeked over his shoulder, his footsteps light and quick while he walked, gingerly plucking a plum from one of the trays once he confirmed he was in the clear. He stepped forward toward the railings overlooking the gardens, searching for any sign of Oberyn or one of his Sand Snakes who'd no doubt betray him in exchange for helping their father. He bit into the plum, tasting the tart flavor from the skin and then a sweetness. He considered heading to the Water Gardens but right as the thought crossed his mind, arms wrapped around him from behind and caged him against the railing.

"Little Star," Oberyn's familiar voice murmured in his ear, lips brushing over his earlobe before dipping to kiss the base of his neck. (Y/N) tried biting back a smile. "You left too soon. There was more fun to be had."

"Was there? I thought that perhaps you'd be... too tired." (Y/N) replied teasingly, taking another bite of the plum before Oberyn spun him around to be chest to chest. His dark eyes narrowed playfully yet he planted a chaste kiss between (Y/N)'s brows. "A man of your age needs much rest, no?"

"You say that as if you're Arianne's age." Oberyn huffed, palms moving to run along (Y/N)'s hips and back with a familiar spark igniting in his eyes. He glanced at the bitten fruit in his hand and arched a questioning brow, the corner of his lips twitching upward when (Y/N) offered the rest to him. Instead of plucking the fruit from his hand, Oberyn swooped in to kiss him, tongue darting between his lips. (Y/N) couldn't help the muffled laugh that escaped him, his hand lightly shoving Oberyn's shoulder and breaking the kiss. 

"I should have known." (Y/N) allowed himself to melt into Oberyn's arms when he brushed their noses together despite knowing fully well how enchanting the Red Viper's eyes were. 

"Come," Oberyn tugged on his hips and kissed the corner of his lips. "You must make this morning's escape up to me, Little Star."

[crypticminx]

hello! could I request Felix and reader leaving together at an Oxford party and their night? THANK YOU<3 could be smut or fluff whatever you prefer

Hello lovely!! Here you go!!! Hope you enjoy xx 🩷

AN: smutttt, Dom!felix, small breeding kink, daddy kink and little bit of flufff <3 P in V, unprotected sex xoxo

Oxford parties.

Drunk people scattered around like zombies, making complete utter fools of themselves on the dance floor as loud hip music blared through the drums of each speaker. Copious amounts of strong liquor was always passed around and one could only hope they didn't get sick from sharing the mouth stained bottles.

Trashy to say the least—but classy in each partygoers pumped heart.

Felix Catton was known for always being in attendance at such parties and stemmed to be the heart throbbing crowd pleaser—that is for all the enraged horny females.

Practically throwing their limp, alcohol filled bodies at him, Felix wasn’t known to be a rejecting heartbreaker, but curiosity always got the best of him, leaving himself to never turn down a good night. Even if that meant following those girls back to their messy dorms.

However, All good things must come to an end, and what—or for a better word, who was finally good for Felix was none other than the most gorgeous girl on campus: Y/N Y/L.

Cuffed, taken, bagged; Felix could proudly admit for once, with a cheery smile, that he was in an amazing relationship.

So when Y/N and Felix started to arrive at every annual party, dashing hand in hand, they received the usual jealous stares from snotty singles and the more pleased ones from their tight knit group of friends.

This night was no different from the same, besides the new arcade fire song that was blasting on repeat. Although parties were a fun festivity to end off a tiresome week of studies, Y/N didn’t find the vibe as enjoyable as previous events.

Standing in the corner holding a red solo cup that was filled with more juice than vodka, Y/N kept to herself for the most part and only encouraged herself to drink by taking a few ditzy shots with Oliver while her beloved Felix was challenged to a silly game of beer pong.

Typical, she thought

Gulping the rest of her drink, Y/N tried her best to look for Felix and while she did so, she gave herself the time to elaborate a good excuse on why they should ditch the party.

The atmosphere was sweaty, humid, and a small stench of some lightweights nasty vomit sprouted it’s aroma from the bathroom. If that wasn’t a good wake up call, what was?

Lost in the haze of people who were doing some new stupid dance trend, Y/N groaned as she felt herself bumping into someone. Nearly spilling her drink, she managed to stop herself before becoming the embarrassment of the night.

She was too full of mental exhaustion—rather more frustrated to even look at up at the soul she collided into.

“Hey,” she knew that voice anywhere and instantly felt relief.

“Jeez fel,” she called him by his proufound nickname she granted him when they first started dating, “I’ve been looking for you like a mad man!”

He chuckled and wrapped a lose arm around her shoulder. Y/N’s eyes fluttered with awe as he did just so and she quickly wondered how in the midst of the grossness around them, Felix could still manage to look so perfect.

Ugh, just a quick glance at her man and she could feel herself growing internally hungry.

Dressed in a loose throw over that appeared to have not a single alcohol stain and his hair—heavens his hair, not one strand of his neat chestnut locks was out of place. He always kept his composure, at least that was one thing different about him and his inseparable sister, Venetia.

“So, ‘m thinking,” he began as he pulled Y/N closer into his chest, the smell of his lovely cologne filling her nose with its radiant clove scent.

“Oh, so you managed to actually use your brain tonight?” Y/N interrupted him, earning a swift tap on her button nose as he goofishly grinned at her.

“Quiet you,” he cooed before leaning closer to her frame, “wanna get out of here?

Her eyes widened in delight as she felt Felix slyly move his needy hands down to the hem of her plaid skirt. A slight clench of his hands that grabbed her bottom made her want to run as fast and far away into privacy with her loving man.

“I thought you’d never ask, love,” grinning like her face had no end, Felix offered his girlfriend his hand as they were about to politely escort themselves out of the way and into the young night.

That was until-

“Oi,” a voice chirped from behind them, causing the couple to swing back as a natural reaction, “and just where do you think you two lovebirds are going?” Oliver entered his way into the picture, something he managed to always do.

“Ollie,” Felix deviously beamed, “I have things to do.”

Felix could be such a smug little asshole.

“More like a special someone to do,” Oliver winked and lifted his cup in Y/N direction, earning an annoyed look of disapproval.

Oliver was just as much as an asshole, but that’s why him and Felix hit it so well.

“Catch you in a bit,” it was more of a statement as opposed to a question, but Oliver knew what the couple was up to.

Oliver knew better than to ever insult Y/N, but the more time Felix included her in things, she developed a strong bond with his pals, but Oliver had slithered his way with getting to know her the most.

He was welcoming, kind and graciously humble, unlike some of the many pricks that marked their way in Oxford, not caring who they belittled or how they did it.

“Whatever you say Mrs. Catton,” she playfully flipped Oliver off as he shook his head with a small chuckle, turning his back away from Y/N and Felix and into the crowd of people.

——————————————————-

“Felix!” Y/N giggled before she fell to the ground, laughing all the way down as she felt long, uncomfortable pieces of grass embrace her body. It was almost a tickling sensation.

“Shhhh,” Felix cupped his hand over her lipstick stained mouth, feeling her warm breath on his palm as it seemed nearly impossible for her to stop herself, “I don’t want to cause a scene my darling.”

With all her might, she moved Felix’s hand away from her face and contently sighed, “oh, but you always do, my love.”

“Feisty now?” He cocked an eyebrow down to where she layed like an angel in the field, waiting for him to avenge her with his sweet love.

“For you, always.”

“Then let’s stop wasting time,” he groaned, feeling his cock twitch at the thought of getting to put it in his sweet girl, tension rising within him to get the job done right, but to also make it lasting and worthwhile.

There was nothing more he loved than making her release herself in waves of pure ecstasy that came with her angelic moans of delight.

Throwing his shirt off somewhere in a small bush behind him, his graceful fingers took absolutely no time in undoing Y/N’s silk, button down and uncuffing her bra.

He was marveled at the sight before him and without any hesitation, he leaned down and began to mark her smooth skin with aggressive kisses that were filled with passion.

Y/N being half naked and about to do it in a forest; it seemed like something from a cheesy movie.

Doing the deed at a house party was cliche and reminded Felix of his past more than he liked to remember and doing it on one of the various campus balconies was adventurous—but a total letdown once it started to rain over Felix and Y/N.

However, now felt like the right time.

“Love,” Y/N gently spoke in between long kisses from Felix, “are you gonna take off my skirt?”

Y/N startled in place as Felix almost ripped off all of her bottoms, fearing he had broke one her favourite skirts he had purchased for her.

Fully naked, Y/N felt an immediate sensation of heat rush over her body and instantly forgot about all the outdoor surroundings as Felix yanked off his belt and threw away his jeans and boxers into mid air.

It was just her, Felix, and all the nights starry glory that was upon them.

“Fuck,” he moaned as he hands fondled her breasts, hard nipples graced the tips of his palms, “you’re beautiful.”

It might’ve been too dark for Felix to see it, but Y/N still managed to blush every time he complimented her—which was practically every heartfelt second they spent together .

“Fel,” she started to beg, “I need you.”

He eagerly placed himself back on top of her, leaving his hard cock to graze the outside of her already soaked cunt. In any regular situation, he would’ve been thrusting with all his might, but tonight he was feeling different.

“Not until you say my name, darling,” he demanded.

“Please daddy.” Y/N squeaked, panting for him to enter himself inside of her.

“That’s my good girl,” he smirked in delight, pushing himself with ease as his rock solid cock glided into Y/N.

“Mmm,” she tried to fight back a moan, but it was no use. She needed him more than ever.

She felt her legs twitch as they melted into bliss as Felix steadily did what he does best; fucking her.

“Baby,” he groaned as he maneuvered himself to grab her soft hair as he dove into her neck for more kisses, “you always get so damn wet for me.”

Y/N moved closer to his frame as his hands tugged her head to his face, his cock continuing to puncture her in all the right ways.

He violated her mouth as his tongue swirled in fast pace with hers, Y/N having to breakaway from his kiss just to catch her breath.

“Oh Felix—daddy,” she bit her lip, feeling himself plunge harder into her as she mistakenly called him by his name, “I want to cum.”

“Not yet darling, let me feel you more.”

Y/N toes curled as he let out a loud groan of pleasure, looking down at her flushed face, he was so proud to call her his girl.

“Mmm sweetheart,” he panted in between breaths, “aren’t you tired of Oxford.”

Oxford? Why the hell was be going on about school during intercourse?

“N-Not really,” she squeaked in response.

“Well baby,” he lingered his way back to her face, planting sloppy kisses as he felt her nails scratch deep into his lean back, “when can I take you out of here and make you my pretty little wife?

Y/N hummed in response, closing her eyes as they relaxed into bliss, “you plan on knocking me up too, yeah?”

Felix couldn’t tell if she was being serious—what is said during sex is not always reality, but just the mild thought of him getting the chance to plant his seed in his beloved made him turn ravenous.

He would do anything for Y/N, but if he could keep her away from any thirsty Oxford boys and make her his wife and potential mother of his children, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“Jesus,” he croaked, already feeling himself starting to lose his pace due to his cock becoming seconds away from releasing into her. “You have no idea, my baby.”

“Daddy—“ Y/N shouted through the bushes of the forest garden, “come with me.”

And like the perfect scene from a porno film, the couple came in unison, wordlessly twinkling at each other with a strong glimmer of love in each one of their eyes.

Y/N let herself be free and rolled her head back, enjoying the climax of her orgasm, feeling more than satisfied with Felix’s overwhelming stimulation of an erotic performance.

She sighed, “I love you.”

Felix, already trying to find her clothes so she wouldn’t freeze in the cool night. “I’m serious, y’know.”

“About marriage or…”

“All of it, my darling,” he gently patted Y/N’s head of messy hair due to their rough embrace.

“But right now?” Y/N sounded hesitant, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t up for it.

“Whenever,” he sat down to her side, passing her ruffled clothing, before leaning to kiss her gracefully on the cheek. “I’d wait an entire lifetime for you, angel.”

Y/N knew the time wasn’t right, they had their whole lives ahead of them, but then again, she could always stop taking her birth control and see what fate would have in store for them.

Though—for now at least, she felt at ease and more than happy to have another memorable shared night with her lover.

[msilwrites]

The Mystery of Who Dressed the LT Like That? (Simon 'Ghost' Fic)

Sassy! Ghost, Sassy! Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Sassy! Simon Riley, Stylish! Ghost, Dapper! Ghost, Domestic! Ghost, Domestic Goddess! Ghost Genre: Comedy

A/N: Same Y/N (Which is You! :D) from How I Met Your Mother? and Midnight Snack Mystery! This one’s all about the lads at the base figuring out the mystery of why their LT. suddenly looks like he stepped out of a posh catalogue. Spoiler: It’s not as complicated as they think—Simon’s just got a good woman (YOU!!) behind him making sure he’s looking his best. But when it comes to teasing, it’s a whole different ball game, and the lads are getting a taste of their own medicine. Enjoy the banter, because it’s all being thrown right back at Johnny and Roach!

Summary: As Simon's partner, you’ve taken on the unofficial role of his personal stylist—dressing him, picking out his clothes, and making sure he’s always looking sharp. The lads at base start to notice the transformation, and they can’t help but poke fun at their LT, who now looks like he’s stepped straight out of a Zegna/Uniqlo/MUJI catalog. They can’t quite figure out what's going on, but they’re determined to crack the case of why their tough, no-nonsense Ghost has suddenly become the poster boy for high fashion—and, more amusingly, started baking, flower arranging, and fully embracing his inner domestic goddess. But Simon? He’s perfectly comfortable in his masculinity, and no amount of teasing is going to ruffle his feathers. In fact, he’s got the perfect comebacks for every jab, turning it all back on Johnny and Roach—leaving them in stitches as they try (and fail) to get under his skin.

----------

It all started with a haircut. Not the usual military buzz or the "I couldn’t care less" trim they were used to seeing, but something deliberate—a sharp undercut with just enough length on top to sweep back neatly. The kind of cut that suggested time spent in front of a mirror, not the usual wake-up-and-throw-on-a-mask routine they associated with Simon. That was the first clue.

Then came the glasses. These weren’t the standard-issue, utilitarian frames meant for reading classified reports or aiming downrange. No, these had sleek black frames, with lenses that darkened automatically in bright light. Practical? Sure. But also stylish—the kind of stylish that made Soap and Roach exchange looks the moment they first noticed them.

And the hoodie Simon used to wear on endless rotation? Gone. Replaced by a knitted beanie that somehow managed to suit him. Sometimes it was dark green, other times navy blue, charcoal, or black. Even the ever-present balaclava he used to wear religiously underneath his hoodie had disappeared. In its place, he’d adopted other ways to cover his face—a sleek black surgical mask, occasionally printed with a faint skull design. Paired with those transforming glasses, which doubled as reading glasses, the whole look naturally drew attention to the hair underneath—the very hair that started their suspicions in the first place.

Price noticed too. He didn’t say much, just raised an eyebrow now and then, his sharp gaze taking everything in. Kyle, of course, already knew the full story. But he wasn’t the type to share someone else’s secrets, so he stayed quiet, leaving Simon to decide when—and if—to let the cat out of the bag.

But Soap and Roach? Patience wasn’t exactly their strong suit.

The clues just kept piling up. Take his boots, for example. Those scuffed military-issued clunkers he used to wear without a second thought? Replaced. Was that a pair of full-grain leather, dark brown Doc Martens the other day? And hold on—were those reddish-brown Derby boots last week? They’d exchanged a quick glance, equal parts impressed and suspicious.

Then there were the trousers. Gone were the tired, faded jeans that had been his off-duty staple for as long as they’d known him. Now it was joggers on some days—still practical, but clearly high-end—and fitted chinos, khakis, wool, or even linen trousers on others. Twill made a regular appearance too, all in a careful rotation of muted tones: black, navy, charcoal, and an occasional deep green. It wasn’t just the variety that threw them; the cuts were sharp, tailored just enough to make it obvious they weren't just off the rack. They were chosen so well, it might as well have been. It was, frankly, unsettling. Simon Ghost Riley had gone from “whatever fits” to looking like he’d just stepped out of a bloody catalog.

And the hoodie? Either styled differently or swapped out entirely, paired with pieces that screamed effortless style in a way that definitely wasn’t effortless. It was only a matter of time before Johnny cracked, unable to keep the teasing at bay.

"What the bloody hell, LT? You hire a stylist or summat?" he blurted, a wide grin plastered across his face.

Roach, standing off to the side, stared expectantly, arms crossed, waiting for some kind of reaction. Captain Price, ever the one for a bit of amusement, arched an eyebrow and waited too, clearly curious. Kyle, however, had a different approach—he crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, a smirk tugging at his lips. He already knew the answer, but he wasn’t about to spoil Simon’s fun.

Simon, as usual, didn’t flinch. His answer came out in that trademark raspy, nonchalant tone. "It’s called a magazine, Johnny."

Johnny and Roach exchanged looks, clearly unimpressed. Roach let out an exaggerated sigh, "A bloody magazine, Simon? Right. And I suppose next you’ll be telling us you’ve picked up a proper skincare routine, yeah?"

Simon didn’t even bat an eye. "Actually, I do," he said, his voice dry as ever. "‘The Ordinary,’ if you must know. It’s decent, keeps the skin smooth, and softens scars too. Might even help with those ones you’ve got under your eyes, Roach."

Roach’s face twisted in mock horror. "Wait, you’re telling me you’ve gone and started doing all that face mask, serum nonsense now? You’ve officially become a bloody beauty guru, mate."

Simon smirked. "Could be worse, I could be slapping on cucumbers and calling it a 'spa day,' eh?"

Roach shook his head, muttering, "I swear, you’re becoming like Kyle. Into all this skincare bollocks now."

Simon’s eyes flickered towards Kyle, who was quietly observing the scene with a small grin. He didn’t miss a beat. "Well, at least Kyle’s got good taste. Besides, better a smooth face than looking like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards, Roach."

Kyle chuckled, adding, "He’s not wrong, mate." Roach rolled his eyes dramatically. "This is just bloody brilliant. The whole team’s turning into a bunch of bloody posh lads, I swear."

Johnny rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh, here we go. What’s next, LT? You getting a bloody personal shopper? Or did you pick up some new hobbies like yoga or bloody knitting?"

Simon just looked at them, unfazed, and shrugged. "Not yoga," he muttered, taking a sip of his drink. "More like running, hiking—stuff that actually gets the heart pumping." He paused, eyes narrowing playfully. "I’ve picked up embroidery as a hobby now. And, uh... flower arranging."

Roach froze, eyes wide. "Flower arranging?!" he spluttered, utterly dumbfounded. "What in the actual hell, Ghost? You’re out there on Ops, dodging bullets, and then you come home to stick flowers in a vase? Are you serious?"

Johnny burst into laughter, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, this is brilliant. The 'Ghost' , now picking daisies like a bloody florist." He wiped a tear from his eye, trying to calm down. "Next thing we know, you’ll be hosting a garden party for the lads."

Kyle, who had been quietly listening, was now laughing hysterically, clutching his stomach.

Simon, completely unfazed, took another sip of his drink. "It’s a lot more relaxing than you think," he said dryly. "You two should try it sometime. Might help with all that anger you’ve got pent up."

Johnny’s expression darkened, and he slammed a hand on the table. "Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?!" he snapped, clearly annoyed. "I ain’t got anger issues!"

Simon leaned back in his chair, a knowing look in his eyes. "See what I mean?" he said coolly, his voice laced with dry amusement.

Johnny’s jaw tightened, and he shot Simon a glare, clearly more annoyed than ever. "You’re pushin' it, LT."

Kyle and Price both chuckled in the background, not saying anything, but clearly enjoying the exchange. Roach, who had been holding back his laughter, finally lost it, nearly choking on his drink. "Mate, you've definitely got a temper," Roach laughed, nudging Johnny. "I don’t care what you say, you're wound up tighter than a drum."

Johnny shot him a death glare. "You wanna say that again?" he growled, clearly not finding the humour in it.

Simon raised a brow, unfazed, clearly enjoying annoying Johnny. "It’s all right, Johnny. We can’t all be as zen as me," he said coolly, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

Johnny sighed heavily, knowing that if he lost his temper again, he'd be playing right into Simon's hands. He clenched his fists briefly, trying to keep his cool.

Kyle and Price chuckled quietly in the background, very much enjoying the back-and-forth. Johnny shot them a glare, but they didn’t back off, their grins widening. Finally, Johnny turned back to Simon, raising a finger in exasperation. "You know what? I can’t even keep up. You and Kyle, you’re both turning into bloody high maintenance. What’s next? Face masks, spa days? Gonna start wearing silk pyjamas instead of camo?"

Kyle burst into more laughter, clearly enjoying Johnny’s frustration.

Simon’s lips curled into a smirk. "I can’t help it if I like to look after myself," he said coolly, his tone laced with sarcasm. "You lot should try it sometime."

Johnny groaned, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. "Don’t start with that. You two are like the bloody dynamic duo of luxury now."

Roach grinned, shaking his head. "What happened to the hard-as-nails lads we knew?"

Price, who’d been quietly observing the whole exchange, finally spoke up, amused. "Aye, keep it up, Johnny. The man’s still got his edge, don’t worry."

Kyle, still chuckling, chimed in, "Yeah, Johnny, Ghost still got that edge. Don’t worry about it."

Johnny’s eyes narrowed. "Oh, right, now you’re both ganging up on me, are you? Just because you and LT have turned into a couple of posh lads, now you’re clearly siding with him!"

Kyle raised his hands, feigning innocence. "Oi, I’m not siding with anyone. I’m just enjoying the banter," he said with a grin. "And for the record, Price isn't 'posh'—he’s bloody Captain Price. But Ghost? Still got that edge. You don’t lose that after a few bloody flower arrangements."

Johnny groaned, rolling his eyes. "You're all useless."

Roach laughed, shaking his head. "Bloody hell, Johnny, you’re just jealous 'cause they look good, aren’t ya? Posh lads clean up right nice."

Johnny whipped his head towards Roach, eyes narrowing. "Oh, so you planning on being one of them now, Roach? Gonna start sprucing up, get yourself a bloody silk robe?"

Simon laughed under his mask, clearly enjoying the chaos he’d caused.

Roach raised his hands in mock defense. "Oi, don't get your knickers in a twist. I'm just saying, they look sharp."

Johnny scoffed, his voice dripping with frustration. "Yeah, well, I don’t need to look like I’m about to sign up for fine dining classes to get the job done, mate."

Roach grinned, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself. "Maybe you should give it a go, Johnny. Could use a bit of refinement."

"Refinement?" Johnny snapped, now fully turning on Roach. "I’ll tell you what I need, mate—someone to knock some sense into you."

Roach raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, I think you’re lacking refinement, Johnny. Don’t know if that’s your temper or your manners, but something’s definitely missing."

Johnny's face flushed with annoyance. "You think I’m lacking refinement? Look at you, mate, wearing a smile like you're a bloody tea butler."

Roach chuckled. "Oi, you’re the one who’s about to blow a fuse over it. Maybe I should suggest you try a bloody spa day for that anger problem."

Johnny’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "Spa day?" he repeated, as if the very idea offended him. "I don’t need a spa day, Roach, I need a bloody escape from you lot."

He paused, shooting a pointed look at Roach, "Spa day, yeah? Maybe I’ll sit in a mud bath with cucumber slices on my eyes, calm me right down—while I think about how I’m gonna throw you in one."

Roach grinned wider. "Oh, I reckon you'd benefit from it, Johnny. All that anger you’ve got pent up? A nice, warm soak might do wonders. Hell, I’ll even join you. We could make it a bloody spa day bonding session."

Johnny shot Roach a glare, his temper flaring. "You’re really taking the piss now, aren’t you? You wanna go to a spa with me? You and me, surrounded by candles and scented oils? You bloody trying to get me to join the soft-lad club or something?"

Roach just shrugged, unfazed. "Hey, I'm just trying to help. Might even get you a nice lavender-scented massage while I’m at it."

Johnny clenched his jaw, struggling to keep his cool. "If you think I'm getting a bloody massage with you, Roach, you’re out of your mind. I'll take you to a pub, buy you a pint, and let you cool your head down the proper way."

Captain Price, clearly entertained by the back-and-forth, finally chimed in, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Stand down, Mctavish, Sanderson, please, don't start a bloody pub brawl over a trip to the spa."

Kyle and Simon couldn't hold back their quiet chuckles at the Captain's comment, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Price, still smirking, added, "Although, Johnny, you might actually benefit from it."

Johnny's eyes went wide, and he snapped. "Oh, for the love of—!"

The team burst into laughter, and even Price gave a low chuckle at Johnny’s reaction. Roach slapped his knee, trying to stifle his amusement, while Kyle wiped away a tear. Johnny, now thoroughly flustered, shot them all a death stare, but the laughter didn’t stop.

"Not helping, Price," Johnny muttered, but there was no denying the grin creeping onto his face despite the playful roast.

----------

During Deployment.

The team was deployed on a covert operation, deep in enemy territory. The quiet hum of the comms filled their ears as they moved through the dense terrain. Simon’s mask had clearly evolved since the last time they’d been in the field—no longer the rough, stitched-together skull it once was. This new version looked more refined, almost sleek, the skull etched with sharper, cleaner lines. It wasn’t just a simple piece of fabric anymore; it had depth. The 3D skull design made it look more menacing, almost as if it had been custom-crafted for maximum intimidation.

Johnny, who had been giving Simon a hard time the whole mission about his ‘high-maintenance’ look, couldn’t resist another jab.

"Oi, LT," Johnny’s voice came through the comms, the hint of a smirk in his tone. "What is this now? You hired someone to redesign your mask? Looks like you’re auditioning for a bloody fashion show."

Simon’s voice came through, dry and unbothered. "It's called 3D printing and fabric glue, Johnny. You should try it sometime. Might improve your style."

The silence over comms was deafening for a moment as the rest of the team heard Simon’s response loud and clear. Roach snickered in the background, and Price let out a quiet chuckle.

Johnny, clearly annoyed, grumbled into his mic. "Bloody hell, don’t start with the tech talk. I can barely keep up with your bloody mask upgrades."

But Simon was already back on track, unaffected. "You just focus on keeping up with the mission, Johnny. Leave the aesthetics to the professionals."

As the team continued their watch, the occasional chuckles from the comms echoed, but it was clear: Johnny wasn’t winning this round.

The truth behind Simon's mask wasn’t as complicated as Johnny might have thought. It wasn’t some random upgrade or designer piece—it was all thanks to Simon’s love. Sweet, sweet love. She had taken the time to 3D print, back stitch, and fabric-glue the skull head onto the balaclava, making it look far more refined and menacing than before. She’d made several of them, so Simon didn’t have to wear the same one all the time. The way she had 3D-drawn the skull made it seem almost alive, a sharp, intimidating look that Simon couldn’t get enough of. He loved it.

The evening came, and after the usual MREs, the team settled down to relax. As they unwrapped their meals and poked fun at the blandness of the pre-packaged food, everyone was caught off guard when Simon, usually the quiet one, reached into the pocket of his bag and pulled out a mix of dried fruit, candies, and confectionary, all wrapped up in a single bag.

He unrolled a toffee caramel-flavored sweet, casually lifting his mask just above his mouth, popping the candy in with a satisfied look.

The team stared at him, taken aback by the sudden indulgence. Kyle, however, wasn’t fazed. He had his own homemade stash of treats, happily consuming his goodies on the side, clearly uninterested in sharing.

Johnny couldn’t hold back his disbelief. "Wait a bloody minute, LT," he said, eyeing the bag of sweets. "You’ve got all this—caramels, dried fruit candy—and we’re stuck with MRE desserts that taste like cardboard. And Gaz has his own little stash, too, but he’s off in his corner like some sneaky, stingy bastard, not sharing with anyone. Where the hell did you get all that, huh?"

Simon glanced at him, his tone as dry as ever. "It’s called baking and confectionary making, Johnny."

At that, Johnny and Roach exchanged a glance, grinning like a pair of wolves who’d just spotted their prey. They could already tell this was their opening.

"Ah, so you’ve gone soft now, eh?" Johnny said with a mock gasp, leaning in. "What’s next? You baking cakes, wearing an apron, putting strawberries on top like some bloody pastry chef?"

Roach smirked, picking up on the game. "Yeah, maybe a little tea party for the lads next, LT? You can serve us biscuits and jam while we talk about our feelings."

"Or maybe we’ll all sit around, and you’ll teach us how to frost cupcakes with your fancy icing tips. I can already see it now—‘Here’s a batch of skull cupcakes, topped with ribbons and flowers. Really adds that tough guy flair, yeah? 'Who’s the hardest in the bakery' vibe.'"

Simon raised an eyebrow, his voice low and measured as he looked Johnny up and down. "You know, Johnny, I’d offer to teach you, but it’s clear you’d eat the icing before you even knew how to pipe it."

Johnny flushed, his jaw tightening as the rest of the lads snickered.

Simon then turned to Roach, his tone dry but sharp as ever. " And Feelings, Roach? Last I checked, I’m a pastry maker now, not a bloody shrink. You want to cry about your feelings? Book an appointment with someone who’s trained in making grown men weep. But don’t do it over my desserts—if you’re sniffling and snotting everywhere, you’ll miss the flavor entirely."

Roach burst out laughing, throwing up his hands. "Fair enough, LT. No tears near the baked goods. Got it."

Simon unwrapped another piece of candy, this time a marshmallow coated in smooth chocolate. He popped it into his mouth without a care in the world, the faintest trace of a smile ghosting over his lips. The sight was almost smug, though Simon, true to form, paid no attention to the reactions of the others.

Johnny and Roach exchanged a long, drawn-out sigh, their eyes drifting toward Simon’s carefully sealed bag of treats. The temptation was practically carved into their expressions, as plain as day. Neither of them bothered to mask the silent scheming that was clearly going on—both biding their time for the perfect chance to pilfer something from Simon’s stash.

Price, meanwhile, had been quietly grimacing in the background, his irritation thinly veiled. Between Kyle off in the distance munching on his private stash of homemade snacks and Simon now indulging in sweets without so much as a glance in anyone’s direction, it was becoming too much. With a pointed clearing of his throat, he finally broke the silence.

Price cleared his throat, stepping in before Johnny and Roach’s plotting could escalate further. “Alright, Ghost,” he said, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. “Give me a piece, yeah? You don’t have to share with those two.”

Johnny and Roach immediately protested in unison, their indignation loud and theatrical.

“Oi, why not us?” Johnny exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “What makes you so bloody special?”

Roach nodded in agreement, pointing an accusing finger at Price. “Yeah, We’ve been suffering through these MREs just as much as you!”

Price ignored their complaints entirely, keeping his eyes locked on Simon with a faint smirk. “C’mon, Ghost. Just one. For your captain.”

Simon tilted his head slightly, his voice as dry as ever. “Or else?”

Price’s smirk stretched into a full grin. “Or else, I’ll have you scrubbing all the pots and pans after Johnny’s cooking. And trust me, after the mess he made last time, those little pots and pans are practically welded together from the burnt food.”

Johnny immediately shot up from his seat, face reddening. “Oi! What’s that supposed to mean, huh? My cooking’s perfectly fine!”

Price didn’t even look at him, keeping his eyes locked on Simon. “It’s your call, Lieutenant.”

Simon raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I’ll happily scrub. I’ve always wanted to experience the horror of Johnny’s cooking firsthand.”

Johnny’s face turned a shade redder, his annoyance evident. “You two are bloody awful, you know that? You’re both on my list for this!” He crossed his arms, glaring at both Simon and Price. Roach, in the background, was laughing hard, clearly enjoying the show.

Simon, however, still wasn’t fazed. As much as possible, he really didn’t want to share. Those pastries were a rare treat—something he’d made with his partner, and in a world full of MREs that tasted like cardboard, those sweets were one of the few things that felt remotely normal. He wasn’t keen on giving them up, not for anything. But if Price pushed him, Simon would fold. After all, he could always make more, but for now, he’d enjoy every last crumb of his stash.

Price huffed, clearly not getting what he wanted. “Alright, Ghost,” he said, uncrossing his arms. “If you’re not gonna share, then I guess I’ll have you do some sit-ups. See how long you last, yeah?”

Simon raised an eyebrow at Price's suggestion. "Sit-ups? You trying to kill me, Price?" He smirked, eyeing the sealed bag of treats. “Tell you what—save me from physical exhaustion, and I’ll give you three pieces.”

Without missing a beat, Simon tore open the bag and handed the sweets over to Price with a resigned, yet amused look. "There you go, Captain. Enjoy the sweets... before I’m forced into a bloody workout."

Price, satisfied with his victory, sauntered back to his seat. He eagerly unwrapped the confectionery, popping a piece into his mouth with a grin. He chewed slowly, clearly enjoying it, savoring the sweetness.

Johnny and Roach, arms crossed, stood off to the side, both narrowing their eyes at their captain with obvious irritation. Johnny's lips were pressed into a thin line, and Roach let out a frustrated huff. They were both seething, but neither dared to make another move.

As they fumed, Gaz strolled back in, having just finished his own share of treats. He quickly glanced around before hastily shoving his stash into his bag, attempting to keep his own little stash under wraps. His eyes flicked nervously between Johnny and Roach, knowing exactly how this game was about to play out. Gaz had learned from experience that whenever food was involved, those two couldn’t resist stirring the pot. Johnny’s temper was always on the edge, and Roach’s humor was sharp enough to keep things uncomfortable. Gaz quickly stashed his treats away, hoping to avoid being the next target of their banter. ----------

As Simon and Price gathered their things, preparing to leave their watch and head back to camp, Simon reached into his vest pocket. With a practiced flick, he unwrapped the last of his pastries, the soft rustling of the paper catching Price’s attention. The Captain narrowed his eyes, studying Simon closely as he popped the treat into his mouth.

“Got any more of those, Ghost?” Price asked, his tone a mixture of curiosity and barely-contained frustration.

Simon looked at the last pastry in his hand, then met Price’s gaze. “Last one, Captain,” he replied, offering a small shrug.

Price groaned, clearly irritated. “Bloody hell, you’ve got me all worked up for nothing.” He didn’t bother hiding his bad mood. Simon could see the shift in him—the tight jaw, the way his brows furrowed. Captain Price in a bad mood was a whole different animal.

Simon chuckled quietly, reaching for the last pastry in his vest pocket before finishing it off. "Tell you what," he said with a grin. "When we get back to camp, you can have the rest of my stash. I’ll just make more for myself when we’re back on home."

Price, still irritated from earlier, gave Simon a side-eye as he followed. "Good," he muttered with a nod, clearly pleased by the promise of more treats.

But when they finally reached camp, they were greeted by chaos.

Johnny and Roach were already at Simon’s stash, both of them hunched over the sealed bag, shoving and laughing like a couple of kids. Their movements were erratic, each one trying to outmaneuver the other in a ridiculous game of who could grab the most. The bag was half-open, with bits of wrappers spilling out onto the ground, and both of them were clearly struggling to keep their hands off the rest of the sweets.

Simon sighed deeply, watching the two fight over the remaining pieces. His arms crossed, looking resigned to the chaos unfolding before him. He had known it was coming.

Price, on the other hand, looked furious. His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened as he watched Johnny elbow Roach in the ribs to grab another pastry. “You’ve got to be bloody kidding me,” Price muttered, clearly losing his patience. “How much sugar can two grown men stuff in their faces?”

Johnny let out a triumphant laugh as he held a piece of pastry aloft, dangling it just out of Roach’s reach. "Sorry, Roach, this one’s mine!" he grinned, eyes dancing with mischief.

Roach responded by shoving Johnny to the ground, grabbing the piece, and popping it into his mouth with a self-satisfied smirk. "Told you, mate, this one’s mine now!"

Simon shook his head, arms crossed, watching the ridiculous scene unfold. "And this is why I couldn’t bring more back," he said to Price, a smirk tugging at his lips. "See how they act with it? Can you imagine if I’d brought extra?"

Price didn’t even answer. Instead, his eyes locked onto the mess in front of him, and he marched straight toward Johnny and Roach. Both of them froze when they saw him coming, instantly on high alert. Price reached into the bag and yanked it away from Johnny's grasp, the movement swift and unforgiving.

Johnny and Roach stood there for a moment, completely silent, as Price looked down into the bag. His eyes scanned it quickly before his face twisted into a scowl. There, in the middle of the wrappers, was one lone pastry—no more, nothing else.

Price's jaw clenched. "Are you bloody kidding me?" he growled, his temper flaring. "This is what you’ve left me with?"

Johnny and Roach exchanged nervous glances, suddenly very aware of the storm they’d just unleashed.

Johnny gulped. "Sorry, Captain. We didn’t think—"

“You didn’t think? That’s the bloody problem!” Price cut him off, stepping closer. His voice dropped to a dangerous low.

Roach’s face went pale, and Johnny instinctively took a step back, clearly regretting the situation. The Captain’s bad mood was enough to freeze the air around them, and right now, they were square in the line of fire.

Price didn’t give them a chance to recover. “Now get moving!” he snapped. “Both of you—laps. Around the whole damn camp. I don’t care if it’s a hundred degrees, you’ll run ‘til I say otherwise. And if you stop, I’ll add more.”

Johnny and Roach exchanged worried glances, but neither of them dared to argue. They hurried to start running, the weight of Price’s gaze heavy on their backs.

Simon watched, an amused smile tugging at his lips. He gave Price a sidelong glance, who now looked like a man who’d had a weight lifted off his shoulders, but still clearly pissed off.

Price shook his head, watching Johnny and Roach running their laps around the camp, both of them visibly regretting their decision. The Captain turned his attention to the bag, now completely emptied except for the lone remaining pastry. With a sigh, he unwrapped it, popping it into his mouth with satisfaction, despite the sour mood that still clung to him.

His gaze then shifted to Kyle, who had been standing off to the side, laughing at the commotion. Price raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. He knew Gaz had a stash of his own.

“Oi, Kyle,” Price called out, his tone casual but commanding. “You got anything hidden away in there?”

Gaz, knowing exactly what was coming, shrugged with a grin. “I might,” he said, reaching into his bag. He didn’t put up a fight, just casually pulled out his own stash of treats and handed it over. "Here, Captain. Take it. Wouldn’t want to end up running laps with Johnny and Roach."

Price took the bag from Gaz without hesitation, nodding in approval. “Good call,” he muttered, already unwrapping a pastry. Gaz wasn’t wrong—they were about to head out in an hour anyway, no point in exhausting himself with the other two.

----------

As the plane touched down on the runway at camp, the familiar hum of the engines winding down as they came to a stop, Simon exhaled in relief. The long deployment was finally over, and home was just ahead.

He made his way off the plane, nodding to his team as they began unloading gear, and headed straight for his 4x4. The familiar surroundings of camp didn’t need to come into view—they were home now.

Pulling into the driveway, Simon got out of the vehicle and made his way inside. The door swung open as he entered, and he could hear the faint clink of pots and pans from the kitchen. His smile stretched as he walked towards the source of the sound.

When he stepped into the kitchen, he didn’t hesitate for a second. He wrapped his partner up in a tight hug, the weight of the past weeks melting away the moment her arms were around him. The comfort of her, the warmth of home—nothing else had ever quite compared.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, cupping her face and pressing a soft kiss to her lips, letting the simple pleasure of being home linger.

“Hey, love,” he said, his voice low, “missed you.”

She smiled up at him, eyes twinkling with affection, before asking with a teasing tone, “How was the deployment? Everything all right? Anything you want adding to the stash, or need more of anything?”

Simon shook his head, shrugging. “Nah, it’s all good. The stash is perfect, love. But…” He paused, a cheeky glint appearing in his eyes. “I could do with something extra next time.”

Her eyebrows arched. “Oh? What’s that?”

He grinned, leaning in a little closer. “You know that ginger candy you make? The one with the proper kick to it?”

“Yeah?” she replied, looking at him curiously. “What about it?”

Simon’s grin widened, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Make sure there’s a bit of that in the stash next time. Just enough to get up Johnny and Roach’s noses when they help themselves. They’ll never know what hit ‘em. A proper surprise.”

She let out a laugh at the thought. “You are evil.”

“Only when it’s deserved, love,” Simon smirked, already picturing the chaos it would cause when Johnny and Roach got a taste of the ginger burn.

A/N: Well, I hope this gave you a good laugh and you enjoyed it in some way! I’m thinking about writing another one-shot for the same Y/N (Which is still You! Lol!)—maybe a continuation, but that depends on if inspiration strikes me again. 😂 Cheers, and thanks for reading!

[flemingology]

remind me i'm yours ─ jessie fleming x reader

in which: jessie gets jealous and needs a reminder that you're still hers

warnings: feelings of jealousy and insecurity, bit suggestive near the end

wc: 2.3k

a/n: based on a request i got on my previous account. i didn't know if you wanted the insecure jealous or moody jealous, but i did my best! hope you enjoy it :D

"Hands off, Fleming. Keep it in your pants!", you pushed Jessie's hands away which had started to wander into dangerous territory. You eagerly leaned into her kiss initially, but when her hands started to roam from the small of your back across your bum, you knew you wouldn't be out the door anytime soon if you had let her continue her ministrations.

After spending way too much time on your hair and makeup, you were finally applying the finishing touches of your look you put together for your cousin's birthday party. Simon was turning 30 today, a special occasion which called for something more than dinner and drinks.

You were wearing your (and Jessie's) favorite long black dress, paired with a set of black high heels. You kept your makeup simple but visible, and swapped your usual flower earrings, the ones that your girlfriend got you for your 6-month anniversary, for a pair of golden hoops.

Jessie made sure you knew how she felt about your look, being extra appreciative of the way the dress accentuated all your curves and bumps.

She pulled away from the kiss and wrapped her arms around your midsection when you turned back to the mirror, having to reapply some lipstick after your short heated moment with your girlfriend.

"You look beautiful, baby," Jessie pressed a kiss against your exposed shoulder. You leaned your head back against hers and reveled in the warmth of her embrace. You pressed a soft, loving kiss against her cheek and mumbled a quick thank you before wiggling yourself out of her grip and moving past her out of the bathroom.

"Let's get going. We don't want to be fashionably late again."

You and Jessie had a reputation of being late anywhere you had to be. Your lack of sense of time, paired with Jessie's lack of self control whenever you were wearing something she liked, turned out to be a disastrous combination in the past. Late to parties, late to game nights with the team, late to family dinners – all of which had led to relentless teasing whenever people found out the reason why you two were late so often.

You waited by the door as Jessie pulled on her shoes, throwing her the car keys that were on the counter of the kitchen before making your way out of your apartment and to the parking garage.

In the car, Jessie's hand took its usual spot on your thigh as you played with her fingers. You hummed along to some songs on the radio, made comments about the traffic or the weather but the drive was mostly quiet, in a comfortable way.

You arrived at the venue almost right on time, both of you proud of your time management. Having to navigate Portland traffic you were afraid you'd not make it in time, but you did. The both of you went around and greeted everyone at the party, catching up with family and (old) friends before settling down at a table with some other invitees.

A couple hours passed and you and Jessie were having fun together. You shared a couple drinks, your girlfriend being mindful of her alcohol intake as she had to drive you both back home later that night. She had just returned to your table from the bar with a drink you requested, when she noticed your chair was empty. She assumed you had gone to the toilet, so she put your drink down on the table and sat down again, talking to the other people you two had been conversing with all night.

When 15 minutes passed and you still hadn't returned, Jessie knew you weren't just gone to the toilet. She shuffled on her seat and subtly tried to look behind her back, scanning the room to see whether she could find you. After a couple of seconds, her eyes locked onto you. You had your back turned to her but she could tell you were in conversation with someone, clearly having fun as she heard the faint sound of your laugh ringing through the room.

Jessie wasn't someone to get jealous quickly. She knew you were happy and well satisfied, you making sure to remind her of that on many occasions. Most of the time, if feelings of jealousy surfaced she did pretty well to subdue them. Jessie was very levelheaded and did a good job at reminding herself of how happy you were with her and of all the times that you reassured her that you wouldn't want anyone else. But if there was anything specific that triggered Jessie's jealousy, it was physical touch. She didn't mind when people hugged you, kissed your cheek, placed a hand on your arm – she did when she thought they were being excessive.

Jessie tried her best not to stare, but they made it hard. She couldn't see the face of the person you were talking to, but she did notice how they kept placing their hand on your arm. After a while she got pulled out of her trance when someone snapped their fingers in front of her, which caused her to blink a few times and look up at the source of the disturbance. When she noticed it was your mum who had come over, Jessie tried her best to plaster an earnest smile on her face and got up to give her a hug. The both of them got lost in conversation and Jessie forgot about her worries for a little while, until after another good 15 minutes you made your way back to the table.

"Hi baby, I'm sorry. I came across my best friend from primary school," you pressed a kiss against her crown as you went to sit down next to her again, taking her hand in yours. "Thank you for the drink." You were met with nothing but a tight-lipped smile and silence in response to what you said, but you soon got pulled back into conversation before you could ask what was up. Jessie felt a bit stupid now that she knew it was just your childhood best friend, but she couldn't shake the feelings of jealousy that had nestled underneath her skin.

The night ambled along and before you knew it the clock was nearly hitting 12. You nudged Jessie's arm and silently let her know that your social battery was running out. She took it upon herself to excuse the both of you, saying your goodbyes before walking back to the car.

The car ride back home was quiet once again, but it didn't feel as comfortable as the ride earlier this afternoon. The silence felt heavier, accentuated by the fact that Jessie's hand didn't take place in its usual spot on your thigh – both of her hands were now gripping the steering wheel tightly.

You tried a couple times to engage into light conversation, making comments about things that happened at a party, but you couldn't get Jessie to participate much more than a hum or a forced chuckle. You decided to let it go for now, not feeling like you would make any progress to find out what was going on inside her head for now.

Jessie parked the car in its usual spot and got out wordlessly, making her way over to your shared apartment. She took off her jacket and hung it on the coat rack, leaving the car keys in their designated spot on the kitchen counter. She pulled you out of your haze by pressing a chaste kiss against the side of your head while you were taking off your heels, before making her way to the bedroom. The quick showing of intimacy took you off guard, and ushered you to get unready quickly.

By the time you entered the bedroom, your Canadian had already climbed under the covers. You quickly undid yourself of your makeup and did a shortened skin care routine, before joining her and immediately turning towards her so you were face to face. You tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before you spoke.

"Anything on your mind? You've been awfully quiet," she visibly gulped upon hearing your words, shaking her head a little too enthusiastically. You frowned and lowered your hand until you cupped her cheek, rubbing your thumb along the soft skin. "Are you sure?"

You didn't like to pry, but you also knew that Jessie needed a push more often than not to talk about her feelings. She sighed and you could see she was internally debating her options. She rolled back onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, your hand dropping to her chest, to which you cuddled a little closer and put your head on her chest too.

"It's stupid, really. I know it's stupid," a frown etched onto your face, not knowing in the slightest what she could be on about. You didn't reply, leaving her the space to speak further if she wanted to; which she did. "Please don't laugh at me?"

Your frown deepened upon hearing what she said, confusion very present. "I wouldn't, not when I know something is bothering you. You know that," you accentuated your words with a kiss against her exposed chest.

You felt her chest rising and falling, courtesy of her taking a deep breath before she spoke up. "I got a little in my head earlier, when I saw you talking to your friend. They were being quite handsy and you know how I get when that happens," you hummed when she got silent, encouraging her to say more.

"I felt really stupid about it when you came back to the table and told me she was your childhood best friend, so I just went quiet. I felt embarrassed but couldn't shake the jealousy and I didn't really know what to do with myself. I'm sorry if I ruined your night."

You chuckled lightly, pushing yourself off of her chest and leaning your weight on your forearm that was positioned on the mattress. "Ruined my night?", you questioned as you cocked your head. She looked at you, for the first time since she started speaking and gave you a merciful look.

"I didn't even know, baby. I know you were in your head about something, as you were so quiet, but I didn't know what about. I didn't want to pry there because I knew you'd not want to talk about it, but I'm happy you told me now."

You noticed how her shoulders relaxed a little, growing more comfortable into speaking about her feelings of jealousy with you.

"As you said, it was just my best friend. I'm sure she didn't mean anything with any of those touches, she's married to a man after all," Jessie's cheeks grew red at those words, realizing how silly this situation was. She shot you a look from the corner of her eye and noticed the smile that was dancing on your lips. "Don't laugh at me, please."

"I'm not laughing!", you held your hands up in defense as you pulled her back into you, laying face to face again. "No need for you to be jealous, Jess. Your bed is the one I'm in at night, and I wouldn't want to change that for the world," you started. You pressed a quick kiss against her nose before you continued. "It's okay to be jealous, really. It just shows that you care for me, and love me. And to be honest, it's really quite hot. But I promise I'm yours, I am now and I will be for as long as you want me."

Jessie's gaze found yours and she looked at you lovingly before cocking an eye at you, surprised at your words. Your hands found her waist and you pulled Jessie's body flush against yours, before continuing. "I like it when you get jealous, or possessive, what ever you want to call it," it was your turn now for your cheeks to grow red.

"Still, I shouldn't have been. Now I know that it was just your friend, it really does feel a little silly."

You pressed your index finger against Jessie's lips, signaling her to be quiet – to not talk about it anymore. You caught her off guard when you straddled her hips in one swift movement, grinning down at her from your position on top of her. Your legs were spread on each side of her waist and Jessie's hands instinctively grabbed your sides, digging her fingers into your hips as you leaned down and pressed a loving kiss against her lips. A soft moan escaped Jessie's throat as you deepened the kiss, something she would probably be embarrassed about if it wasn't followed by one of your own right after. You bit Jessie's bottom lip and let it go with a pop when you broke the kiss.

"It's okay, really. Don't feel bad about it. Misunderstandings happen, okay? As I said; it just shows to me that you care for me and love me. It's cute."

Like clockwork you noticed her cheeks turning a deep shade of red, but you decided not to tease her for it and lean back into a kiss. You swiped her bottom lip with your tongue, silently asking for permission to enter her mouth which she eagerly granted. You tested the waters by teasingly rolling your hips against hers, causing Jessie's breath to hitch. She dug her fingers deeper into your sides and helped you roll back and forth on top of her, the extra leverage of her arms causing your arousal to grow quickly.

And when her hands started to wander this time, you didn't tell her off like you did this morning.

[teeny-tiny-revenge]

It's home cinema manufacturing time! 🏴‍☠️ Gonna put my pirate show on my shelf! (I'm doing an Arts and Crafts Project and I'm making it everyone's problem.)

After seeing how much they cost, I abandoned the idea of getting a Blu-ray writer for now. For the time being, good old DVDs is what it's going to be! My TV is old and not very big, so DVD resolution is gonna be fine.

It's been ages since I last burned a DVD. For the full experience, I'm gonna create nice menus and pretty sleeves for the boxes. Graphic design is my passion! Um.

Well. First needed to find a program to do stuff with. I'm a Linux guy, so I'm using Devede. (Which is free, btw. In case someone else wants to do a low cost spot of putting pirate show on the shelf.)

DVDs fit a maximum of 120 minutes of video. So, four episodes, I thought. But after a quick attempt, the program refused to do more than three (maybe because of the menu also taking up space, and four episodes cutting pretty close to the 120 min mark?). Anyway, three episodes per disc it is. It's a pretty nice runtime for watching the entire disc, IMO. An hour and a half, and then you can return to reality to realise you should probably eat something, or go to bed because it's midnight.

OFMD with its current two seasons has a total of eighteen episodes, which is divisible by three. You get the following setup:

Disc 1: Pilot, A Damned Man, The Gentleman Pirate - That's pretty good, Stede's introduction to piracy all on one disc!

Disc 2: Discomfort in a Married State, The Best Revenge is Dressing Well, The Art of Fuckery - All bangers. Great to watch together, our boys meet and shenanigans happen!

Disc 3: This is Happening, We Gull Way Back, Act of Grace - Many romantic moments, lots of great scenes, shit hits the fan at the end there. Alright!

Disc 4: Wherever you go, there you are, Impossible Birds, Red Flags - ... Pain and angst! What have I done!?! The disc of horrors. Gotta make sure to have tissues at hand when I watch this. But hey, it also has messy bun Ed! Small mercies.

Disc 5: The Innkeeper, Fun and Games, The Curse of the Seafaring Life. - Another disc with all winners. I love all these episodes so much! (You can watch this disc to recover from the trauma of the previous one!) But seriously, this one slaps.

Disc 6: Calypso's Birthday, Man on Fire, Mermen - Great combination again. Season finale! Love and excitement!

... Honestly, except for the psychological damage of putting all the most painful episodes together, this is coming out pretty cool. Says a lot about how good the show is. I actually really love all the episodes (yes even the painful angsty episodes of massive depression). Thinking about this little project really reminded me how much I love this entire show.

So, we got a tracklist, now menus, then we can burn this stuff!

I did the menu backgrounds in GIMP. Realised I have a big folder full of screenshots I took myself, screenshots someone else took and posted on Tumblr, official promo pics for the show, and I have no idea anymore where most of them are from, because I named the files according to what's on them. Which is useful for when you want to find pics (Need a picture of cursed suit Stede? I have files named that, easy peasy!), but not so great if you wanted to give credit to whoever took a given pic you used. (It's probably @sherlockig or @ofmd-ann or @blakbonnet. Please feel credited, your beautiful screens and gifs brighten my day, and some of them are now probably part of my DVD menus. Shrunk down and cropped, but, yeah.)

I originally wanted to structure my menus as having the title of an episode, then some pics from it, then the next episode, then pics from that, and so forth, but I couldn't convince the program to give me the necessary padding between the menu items, so I ended up just putting the episode images below the menu. Still like it.

Anyway, DVD menus can also play sound! Behold a crappy video of my beautiful creation (provided entirely for sound):

It plays Gnossienne N°5!

More crappy pics of my other disc menus:

Gonna make them some nice sleeves next. Some day. Gotta make sure they all work properly first. So. I'll be on my sofa, watching my DVDs. With menus! (Edit: here are!)

[bahrtofane]

blue thobe and tea

Jude but he’s your husband and it’s Eid. yay !

word count - 1.3K+

watch it - eid chaos and shenanigans

p.s. -Count this as my Eid gift to yall ! 

The clock reads a brisk 6:00 am, and you're late. Well, behind schedule. But still. 

Running around trying to find your shoes ( you swore you left them at the door but whatever) last minute ironing of clothes and fitting cookies in tupperware because the 50 you prepared isn't nearly enough. You've been in and out of the kitchen checking on the tea that's been steeping, brewing and boiling since you woke up.

You're still in your bath robe, clutching it closed while you do laps around your home. You left Jude still in bed, and he soon wakes at the commotion you're creating. 

Your ever-patient husband appears in the doorway with a bemused expression. His hair is much less neat than he likes and sleepy eyes only add to his charm. "What time even is it?" he grumbles, clearly not thrilled about the rush.

You glance at the clock, "We're running behind schedule," you admit, crossing your arms and shaking your head. 

Jude steps closer, wrapping his arms around you, “We'll make it work," he reassures, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

You relax, even for a second, sighing softly. 

“I don't want to be late late,” you grumble into the crook of his neck.

He coos at you, petting your hair and promising he'll be extra quick getting ready.

You smile, eyes crinkling while sending him off to shower. In the time he takes to get showered, ready, changed. You've found your shoes, heels now clanking as you finish the last bit of prep.

The tea is ready, poured into each thermos and set on the table. Jude steps out of your bedroom in the cutest blue thobe and your heart swoons.

“My handsome man,” you press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Think so?” He gives you a little spin. 

"You clean up nicely," you tease, giving him a playful nudge.

He chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist,"Only for you, my love," he replies, planting a kiss on your lips.

You hum, “think you can get the thermos in the car?’

“Of course baby, “

As Jude heads out to the car with the thermos, you take a moment to admire him from behind. The way his thobe drapes over his frame, the confident stride in his step—it all makes your heart swell with pride. How lucky are you?

With a soft sigh, you clean up the last few things around your house. Washing the dishes, tucking plates inside the dishwasher, cleaning up the aftermath of your tea making, fluffing out your table cover, and sliding your house shoes snug against the wall. 

You get ready yourself. Not too much time as your dress slides off of its perch on your hanger. You do a quick once over in the mirror of your bathroom. Your makeup is good to go, your outfit is perfect. Things worked out after all. 

Your clock now reads 7:22. Relatively on schedule. You told your family you should get there around 8:30. 

You grab your purse, Judes sunglasses, the tupperware of cookies and head outside, locking the door behind you. The sun is beginning to rise, casting a golden hue over the neighborhood. Dew still clings to the blades of grass that span your front yard.

 Jude ducks into his designated seat, your passenger princess, holding his hands open for the tupperware as you slide it into his lap. His glasses go on top of his head, seat belt clicking softly as you make your way to the drivers side. 

Jude is giddy as you make your way to your famed family eid event. He used to be nervous out of his mind, unsure of where to fit in. half the time you found him standing off to the side. Until your cousins forcefully made him join monopoly (its eid tradition okay). 

And even since then he's been more or less of a monopoly fiend, getting way too fired up than what's probably acceptable for a monopoly game but who cares. If he's having fun that's all you could really ask for.  

As you drive to your destination, Jude hums along to the radio, occasionally reaching over to squeeze your hand or steal a quick kiss at a red light. 

“You're so clingy,” you huff. Rolling your eyes playfully but leaning into each kiss nonetheless. 

“Yeah yeah and you love it.” he shrugs. 

You can't argue with that. 

“Think you'll win this year?” He knows what you mean. Monopoly of course.

“Of course I will. Tell your cousin I don't care how many times he moves his pieces when I'm not looking I will win.” he rubs his hands together. 

“You do that. I'm gonna play chess.” you nod. 

“You're really missing out you know.”

“I'm really not, those fiends of property will not be coming near me.”

“Baby.” he laughs.

“Hm?”

"You're gonna have to fix your lipstick kinda smudged it.” he giggles.

You quickly look into your rearview mirror, “you did a number on me.”

He only laughs harder. Ah the sweet sound of Eid fun. You love Eid.

When you finally arrive at your destination (and fix your lipstick) , your cousin's house is alive with the sounds of laughter and greetings. She got to host this year. You think next year will be yours and Judes. You have some remodeling to finish this year. 

You and Jude are greeted warmly by friends and family, exchanging hugs and well wishes. You snort at your younger family members who wait for their Eid money. This year it's Jude who gives it out. Taking his wallet out and kneeing to eye level with the kids as they get their gift for the day. 

You find your cousin, knee deep in dishes in the kitchen already.

“There you are,” she beams, kissing your cheeks and wiping her hands dry. She pulls out a kitchen chair and hands it to you. You take a seat gladly. 

“You look busy.” you raise a brow. 

“You think?” she huffs. 

You raise your hands up, “hey it's not even tea time yet what's with the dishes.”

“Cookies I didn't finish this morning.” she groans, heading back to the sink.

You get up out of her seat and push her out of the way, “go greet your guest you idiot i got it here.”

She sighs, heading off to greet the growing crowd of people that fill her home. 

You finish in a few minutes, organizing what you can before finding Jude surrounded by kids who throw various sports balls for him to juggle. He's doing pretty good, laughing as each ball gets increasingly more outrageous. Golf balls? Where did they get golf balls? 

You take a few videos before he calls it quits and joins you to do your round of greeting the new arrivals.

Throughout the day, you and Jude enjoy the festivities, indulging in delicious food, sharing stories, and making cherished memories. He ends up winning monopoly, go figure. Chess ends in a stalemate and you have a stare off with a family friend that sits opposite to you in the living room. Next time you both agree silently. 

Lunch has been served along with a large array of sweets with tea, (yours was a hit). Jude preens at the praise that comes your way, boasting of how amazing you always make it, that your hands are just naturally sweet. 

You swat his chest, scurrying away while he continues to any and everyone that will listen to him. 

“That man is obsessed with you,” your cousin appears again, tea in hand. 

“Isn't he?” you snort. 

“I hope you guys host next year.” she gives you a nudge with her shoulder.

“Me too. You did great this year.” 

“Don't leave the cookies last minute like me though,” she grumbles before melting back into the crowd.

As the day draws to a close and you head home, hand in hand with Jude, you can't help but smile at the thought of many more Eids to come, spent with the love of your life.

You're thinking of getting him a pink thobe for next Eid, good idea no?

[st-el-la-luna]

Thinking about being a civilian in Las Almas when shit goes down

You'd been invited to stay with a friend and, being in desperate need of a vacation, you'd agreed. It was fun, staying with them, meeting their family, learning about their hometown and childhood.

The fun ended pretty quick when these cunts dressed in black started killing everyone.

You and your friend had been out enjoying the night, eating, drinking, dancing. You were on your way back to their house when you heard it.

A gunshot.

Your friend tells you this isn't entirely abnormal. Tells you to ignore it and keep walking.

So you do.

But the gunshots are becoming more frequent. Louder too. They're getting closer.

A woman you vaguely recognize, one of your friends neighbours, rushes out of an alleyway, terrified and bloodied.

You can only understand so much about what's said before her head suddenly... Not there. Bits of skull and brain and blood spattered all over you as you watch her body drop.

You turn to your friend. "This is normal? Dude...."

You're friend tells you to shut the fuck up and that you need to run. As the sound of heavy footsteps and voices (American accents you register) get closer, accompanied by the sound of a gun being reloaded, you agree.

The two of you make a run for your friends house, passing all sorts of horrible sights. You're a block away when a gunshot rips through the night and your friend suddenly just... Stops.

You look back in disbelief. Their eyes wide with shock, lips parted, slack jawed... The new hole in the middle of their forehead. They try to say something to you, but all that escapes them is a choked groan. They throw you their keys, then collapse.

They're not dead yet. You can tell by their sounds and the rise and fall of their chest. A part of you wants to help them, grab them and drag them off to safety.

The other part of you recognizes the man dressed in all black (he looks suspiciously military but that doesn't make sense, killing civilians is a war crime... isn't it?), who's walking closer as he reloads his gun.

So you run.

Run and run until your legs are burning. Taking back roads and side streets, jumping fences, the adrenaline making it easy to ignore the way the barbed wire tears at your skin.

When you make it to your friends street, you find the door to their house is already open. Kicked down.

You find the dead inside.

A part of you wants to stop here, curl up and break down. The other knows that these people, these men in black, could come back at any moment. And so you do what you can to prepare yourself.

You empty your backpack of your belongings, filling it instead with anything you find around the house that might be useful.

A first aid kit buckled to the side. Rubbing alcohol and tequilla and whatever else flammable you can find poured into glass bottles, the lips stuffed with socks. Kitchen knives. Fire crackers and fire works. A couple flares. You manage to break open the safe and get a gun. An eight round revolver that you have no clue how to shoot but figure, hey, its better than nothing. At the very least, you could use it for intimidation.

You're heading to the garage where you're pretty sure you remember seeing a bow and full quiver of arrows (you were obsessed with the hunger games when you were younger, actually got pretty good with the weapon) when you freeze.

The man in black also freezes.

He's bloody and out of breath. Face smeared with dirt and oil. His mohawk disheveled. His blue eyes land on you laser focused. He's got a gun. A big one.

And he's looting the corpses. Your friends roommates, their bodies still warm as blood pools beneath them, some of their eyes still open, casting judgmental stares, lay there limp. And this fucker is acting like this is a D&D campaign.

You've got the revolver trained on him with shaking hands.

He points his gun (some sort of automatic things) at you. His hands are steady, practiced. His eyes sharp.

He opens his mouth to speak and takes a half step towards you.

You pull the trigger.

Nothing happens.

"Aye," the man speaks in a thick Scottish brogue. He sounds like he's laughing. How dare he laugh? If you could figure out how the stupid gun works you'd shoot him. "You've got to cock a gun like that 'fore you shoot it."

You freeze, your arm drawn back ready to throw the revolver at the man. His accent gives you pause. The other men in black, they were Americans. And this guy... His clothes are a bit different too. Though he's clearly also army.

You lower your arm hesitantly. "You're... You're not one of them."

"The Shadows?" he asks. "Tch, no. You'd best thank your lucky stars for that, they'd have killed you in a second flat."

"What the hell is going on here?" You demand, slipping the gun back into the makeshift holster you had made out of a couple belts. You step around the man to the garage and he follows.

"You're not from here, are ya love?" he asks as he watches you scan the shelves.

"I'm here on vacation," you say bitterly as you stand on your toes, struggling to reach the quiver of arrows. He pulls it down and hands it to you. The arrows are dusty and old, though still sharp. He hands the bow to you as well, albeit unstrung, and you let out a quiet hum in thanks. He watches as you string the bow, a brow raised. He looks like he's going to say something, but you cut him off. "You didn't answer my question... What's happening? Who are those people?"

He hesitates a moment, you notice his ear piece. Someone else is speaking to him. "Aye, i know, I know, but I cannae very well leave her here now can I?"

At the mention of being left, you panic. There's a pair of handcuffs on his belt. You grab them and before he has a chance to react, you've cuffed your hands together.

And swallowed the key.

Yeah... Not your brightest moment.

The man looks at you dumbfounded. Then speaks to the man in his ear. "Uh... Lt? Got a bit of a problem..."

Please reblog to support my writing!

Masterlist

[angelwishess]

Random funfacts about the Floyra kids bcs I need to ramble abt them!!!!

And Idk when I’ll be able to make their intro posts HELP

Just like her mama, Alora attracts creatures too! …Except, they aren’t cute, little forest critters, but instead terrifying monsterous beasts. Yeah…

She took the “Beast Tamer” thing literally it seems, because anytime theres a magical beast lurking around, Alora can somehow always manage to tame it. She thinks they’re “cute” and likes to dress them up! Just like how Kyra used to ask for assistance with the critters, Alora does the same with the beasts!

Alora is actually very talented in wrestling, and she may or may not have a sleeper build… (This was inspired by Japanese wrestler Mizuki!)

Evelio is actually the most prone to mood swings amongst the Leech siblings! Though he may be able to hide his emotions better than his painfully honest siblings, he’s still the most moody of the bunch.

Growing up, Kyra taught the kids to play chess. But not the traditional kind of chess, no— She taught them how to play ‘Chess Anarchy’. A silly version of the game where there are basically no rules. The only way to win was to create a better excuse than your opponent for the ridiculous moves you do.

Because of this, Marven used to always win at chess against Evelio. After all, he’s always been too creative for his own good!

Both twins were suprised when they found out there was a tradition version of chess and, surprisingly, even Evelio disliked it. The Leech siblings found the original game boring. The only reason Evelio even likes it a little bit, is because its the only time he can beat Marven at chess lmao

Chimere dyes her hair ALOT. Im talking new month, new hair color!! She just cant stick to one thing, and that goes for style, too! Her aesthetic is constantly changing, and its just as restless as she is!

Chimere is a busy body who likes to burn energy by taking on odd jobs around campus. Anyways, shes a Jack of All Trades and a ridiculously quick learner, and she uses that to her advantage all the time!

She’ll do a favor or two for you as well, if you have a good payment! …Money? Pfft! Of course not! She expects something cool or fun in return, maybe a part of your soda cap collection, or a random playing card. Your choice, just don’t make it “boring”.

Chimere is also a total party animal, and enjoys any kind of festivity! Honestly, its like she brings the party wherever she is though, her endless energy is simply infectious!

Chimere dabbles in ballet, too! She loves all dancing in general though, and thought it’d be fun to try a new style! Dancing is her favorite thing to do, after all!

Chimere is a Ribbon Eel! Yeah, Chimere was actually adopted by Kyra and Floyd! I decided to give them one more just because RibbonEel was one of Floyra’s possible other ship names, and thought the idea of Kyra and Floyd just randomly snatching up a kid with no parents was too funny to miss out on.

Maven is a flirt. It probably ties in with his whole ‘wannabe rockstar’ thing, but he just loves the swell of pride in his chest when he knows someone is charmed by him. Don’t get him wrong, he’s not a playboy! He won’t ever pursue any of the people he flirts with (well, except for one…), he just likes to flirt!

…However, Marven is actually quite ashamed of this ngl WHAHAHAH, only because he feels guilty when the thought of what his mama would think about it crosses his mind. He may be a flirt— but please don’t tell his mom!! He’d rather die than let her know!

Whenever shes around, Marven straightens up immediately! Buttoning up his blouse and acting like hes done nothing wrong… But Evelio knows. And he uses it as black mail 😭

While the twins are both in the Spelldrive Club, Marven has his own band! Hes a vocalist and plays electric guitar— his favorite! (Mostly because it makes him ‘look cool’.)

Marven… Really just likes anything that makes him look cool. Thats his reason for most things he does, honestly… (Evelio says hes pathetic LMFAO)

He may look rough around the edges but the truth is Marven is probably the nicest out of his siblings! No matter how tough he tries to act, if you ask him enough he’ll probably eventually cave and ‘bregrudgingly’ help out.

Alora may be eager to help out— but her unpredictability and eccentricity usually makes the whole situation go completely wrong. She does try her best, but… Her methods are rather strange.

Evelio is actually very unorganized. He can never find whatever he last put down, especially in his room.

Marven, on the other hand, is amazing at finding things! Its like he can find anything, really. (Evelio always has to ask for his help). His own room is unorganized too, but its more like organized chaos. He knows where everything is, he just doesnt bother to clean up if he doesnt feel like it HAHA

Marven is clingy as hell. He’d be one of those kids that check on his parents’ location on an app and call them if they leave without telling them anything😭😭

Evelio is actually the same way, but he just wont admit it.

Chimere is always on some random side quest. You can barely find her in the same place as before, always running off to go on some sort of adventure elsewhere. She seeks out fun and adrenaline just as much as Kyra did!

Alora loves LOVESS to jumpscare people. She’ll appear out of nowhere and spook them. Its all in good fun, though! In her eyes, they’re all just playing.

[changbunnies]

Crave, Part 2 (18+)

♡ Pairing: Romantic Demon!Hyunjin x Human Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: supernatural au, demon au, age gap relationship typical in monster fucker fics, coworkers to lovers and love triangle vibes :')

♡ Word Count: 6.5k

♡ Summary: "The more a thing is perfect, the more it feels pleasure and pain." - Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy. In which Hyunjin, a demon from the nine circles of hell, finds himself impossibly infatuated with the very human he once set upon himself to destroy.

♡ Warnings: this is a part 2! read part 1 here, more immoral behavior and thoughts + ideas from hyunjin ofc, supernatural abilities, themes of possesiveness and jealousy, more talks of sinful acts / feelings from the perspective of a demon, reader's age is not specified but it is implied to be at least mid twenties.

♡ Notes: sorry ya'll it took longer for this to come out than i intended, i wasn't feeling well so i was resting ;v; and tbh i still don't feel well but i really wanted to keep writing so i powered thru to get this done!! this part is story focused but dw, explicit smut is coming next <3 the focus here is building up their relationship so that the smut feels like a natural development and they aren't just instantly in love lol i hope you enjoy it!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

How do you make a human fall in love? A question that is perhaps simple in theory, but Hyunjin hasn't wooed a human in centuries, and much has changed since he last blended in with society. In the modern age of technology, sin is at the most rampant it's ever been. The common man can access all manner of sin from the palm of his hand with a single device, and it has made the act of integrating into human society an unnecessary practice for demons. 

There's a plethora of human sin to feed from at any given moment, and obsolete is the need for a demon to blend in with the humans that walk the earth, no longer required to be a snake in the community garden just waiting for their moment to strike and consume. Though an outdated method to obtain their wants, integration with humans can still be done, if only the demon in question wishes to do so- and as Hyunjin has come to realize, he does if he wants to win over the object of his desire. 

Despite how long it's been since Hyunjin walked among them, he wasn't ignorant of modern human culture; he still had to be well-informed if he wanted to be effective and efficient in sowing the seeds of sin in feeble minds, after all- his work in the second circle required such knowledge, and it was also a benefit when it came to deciding which soul he would drink from to sustain himself. 

He knew perfectly well how to use most modern technology, knew how to dress in a manner that was unique to his own tastes but suited the trends of the era, and whatever "pop culture" knowledge he lacked, as it was called by humans, he could blame it on things such as "preferring to stay off social media," or "not watching much tv or playing much games," and most would take it as a fair, reasonable enough excuse, even if the person asking questions of him could not relate to his answer. 

In the last century especially, most of Hyunjin's public outings were limited to a few hours at most, spending that entire time scoping out who'd sustain his cravings the most. Nightclubs in particular were an easy place for Hyunjin to get a quick fix of the lust he needed, sustaining him well enough when his preferred love-drenched lust was still being built to its peak. 

Despite all his experience in human matters, there was something that posed a problem for him initially. Since moving into your lavish suite, you worked from home- a luxury Hyunjin assumes you have from a high ranking position within whatever company you work for (especially if this is the kind of place you can afford to live in on a single salary.) But if you only ever left the house long enough to run errands, how was he supposed to meet you organically? And further still, how does he meet you in such a way that makes contact with you consistent, that makes you want to talk with him and be in his presence? 

He could, theoretically, stage a meeting, pretend to be a neighbor entering the building at the same time or "accidentally" bump into you while shopping for something he has absolutely no use for, only to then charm you the moment your eyes lock with his. The problem with that approach is that charming you defeats the purpose of what he wants; for you to have genuine, real love for him, and only him. And asking you out after meeting you just once, in a situation where you have no reason to connect with him further, could be uncomfortable or off-putting in the eyes of women. What woman likes to be hit on by a stranger while she's grocery shopping? 

Hyunjin's human form is attractive, sure, but looks can only carry him so far when it comes to making a woman fall for him. His appearance is useful for one night stands, but he needs to show you more substance than that if he wants you to desire him beyond the physical- and he was sure based on his observations of your character that you weren't vain or superficial enough to fall for him based on looks alone. 

Thankfully, he didn't have to ponder on these questions for much longer, because only a few short days after you finished all your unpacking and decorated your apartment to your liking, you returned to work. He could tell easily enough what your destination was when your routine suddenly deviated; for the first time since moving in, you had turned on a repeating alarm for 6 A.M, and your choice of business casual clothing and subtle, office appropriate makeup told him all he needed to know. 

Hyunjin followed you there, naturally; presence hidden, lingering in the shadows with the intent to best establish how to infiltrate your work environment. As he expected, you held a high ranking position inside a corporate office- head of human resources for one of the many subsidiaries of some conglomerate Hyunjin had never heard of, as typically there is no need or reason for him to be well versed in human's business dealings. 

Becoming someone you work with directly would be the best route, he was sure. Whether on equal ground or as someone answering to you on a team, it was the option that gave him the most opportunity to create a connection with you, and maybe be the start of one of those sappy office romances that humans seem to enjoy in their media. 

It was fine if there were no employment openings- it'd be simple for Hyunjin to create one by exerting his influence over a human's mind. He'd pick out whomever you liked the least, someone who bothered you either overtly or simply by being an inefficient worker, and he'd take their place. He could plant the idea of a career change, a desire to move across the country, or simply get them fired should the gentler, subtle approach be deemed too time consuming for Hyunjin's taste. 

Of course, Hyunjin knew jack fucking shit about how your job truly works or what would be required of him if he was on your team, but that was fine too- it would be easy for him to fake his performance when necessary, and charm any who questioned his work abilities. He wouldn't enjoy lying to you directly if there was ever a need for it but, well.. The ends justify the means, don't they? And while he wouldn't charm you for love, certainly it wouldn't hurt to do so to make him appear a better worker than what he would be in reality, right? 

No matter what his hypocritical justifications were, he’d do anything necessary to make you his, even if it meant having to lie at times. It was a foreign feeling, being conflicted about lying when typically lying came second nature to a demon, but he supposed his infatuation for you is what makes it feel different. Is that why truth was considered a godly virtue? It was the first time in his life that just the thought of lying, before it could even be an act done in the first place, felt.. wrong.

Maybe because on some subconscious level he recognized that love woven from lies isn’t true, no matter how much he’d wish it to be. Even if you fell sincerely in love with him, would it still satisfy him to have gotten there based on tricks and lies? When he determined that the answer to that question was a firm “no,” he vowed he would do his best to keep lies far from his lips when it came to you, even if that made his goal more difficult to achieve. Strange, how this was easily the most human he’d ever felt. 

In a way, it is almost natural to feel this way, to be met with internal conflict for the first time in ages; most demons are born directly from human sin, after all. What is he, if not the physical manifestation of a human who has fallen from perfection? More powerful than a mere human though he was, his proverbial soul still held an innate inclination towards sin, the struggle with temptation and decadence inherent to his very being, as hypocrisy and corruption went hand in hand with sin, hand in hand with the very human condition he would oft wrongfully deny he felt.

And that wasn’t the only human emotion that came to him when he watched you at work for the first time. Most of the morning was spent rather uneventfully, Hyunjin’s time dedicated entirely to scoping out the environment and determining where he’d best fit within your corporate world. He observed the people on your team, who was designated where and what their duties were, keeping track of what feelings and opinions you had for whom, looking out for who he would be able to effectively replace.

Without warning, he sensed it, felt it, tasted it- love, seeping out of your pores, heart suddenly alight and a smile that should be reserved for him lingering on your lips. Jealousy pricked Hyunjin’s skin before he could even fully process the scene before him, a deep fondness in your eyes as a man that Hyunjin could only assume was from another department approached you with a smile of his own.

Shit. It was expected that he would find out who you loved eventually, but he didn’t anticipate that it would be here, in the very environment he was setting up to be the stage for your romance with him. The man asked you questions and talked in ways you’d expect to hear between friends or coworkers- “how’d the move go?”, “are you settling in well?”, and “you should invite me over sometime!”

It was the last statement that made Hyunjin’s eye twitch with suppressed anger, not much liking the idea of the person you’re in love with being alone with you in your apartment. Every time you giggled at something he said or blushed when the man held your gaze, it nearly made him sick with envy. Fuck him, he didn’t deserve you, Hyunjin thought, I'm better than him in every conceivable way, that should be me.

This man didn’t love you the way you loved him; Hyunjin could tell, could feel the platonic affection that radiated from him. And instead of being happy about the implication that Hyunjin would have no rival for your affection when he pursued you in earnest, it almost made him more pissed off. This guy didn’t even know how fucking perfect you were, didn’t seem to notice the way your eyes sparkled with affection, how your heart raced when he hugged you, or the bashful smile that lingered when he invited you to share your lunch hour with him.

He’s a complete fucking idiot for not being head over hells for you- you, who’s only sin is lust, who is beautiful, intelligent, humble, and positively radiant in presence without even realizing just how much value she truly has. It’s okay, he has to remind himself, it’s a good thing his one-sided rival doesn’t share your sentiment; because when Hyunjin shows you how beautiful you are, treats you with the reverence you deserve, your heart would surely shift to beat for him instead. He’ll make sure of it.

You let out a sigh as you comb through the next resume that found its way to your desk, exhausted from the amount of interviews you've conducted today. This was probably your least favorite aspect of your job if you were being honest; being the head of human resources put you in charge of all recruiting efforts, scanning through countless applications to determine who was the best fit for the company, but you never enjoyed doing it. 

It always makes you feel guilty to determine someone else's worth based on a flimsy piece of paper and interview first impressions, where nerves are almost always at their peak as the person sitting across from you makes their best conscious effort to impress you. It is also not a job you can delegate to someone else on your team, unfortunately; your place at the top of the HR department made all hiring decisions entirely up to your own discretion. And apart from the guilt of knowing you couldn't hire everyone that walked through your door, it was so tiring to go over the same questions multiple times a day with a myriad of strangers. 

Hwang Hyunjin was the name of the last person you'd be interviewing today (much to your relief) and you hoped he'd be the person to wow you in the end, as you have lukewarm feelings to who you've met thus far. Despite the impressive credentials on most resumes you reviewed, none of the people you'd met seemed to be a good long term fit for the company; some of them would likely only be good as temps, needing to be let go unless they showed substantial improvement in the areas they were lacking in. 

It was a terrible thing to judge someone based on whether or not they were able to calm their nerves or had enough charisma, but when working for corporate conglomerates you can't afford to be meek. It was okay to be shy and reserved in your personal life, many people in the office were, but for the sake of professionalism you're required to have the ability to put meek tendencies aside. If the interviewee couldn't speak with confidence, then you had reason to believe they'd crack under the daily pressures of speaking with representatives of other departments or when handling sensitive negotiations. 

Unfortunately, you don't typically have the luxury of giving applicants the benefit of the doubt or the ability to give them the opportunity to change your first impression of them. You take a glance at the clock hanging above the door to your office, opposite of your desk; it's just a few short minutes until you meet your last applicant, and you pray he'll be the person you've been looking for. Despite how desperate you are to fill the hole in your team after Mina's extremely abrupt resignation and move out of the country, you still don't want to hire just to fill the gap she left- you want someone capable and confident on your team. 

You take one last passing glance at the man's resume, making sure you're familiar with his education and work history, not wanting to be mistaken on any of the details listed. A short succession of knocks are heard on your door a few moments later, and you look up from the resume you're rereading to see Nayeon opening the door just enough for her head to come into view. "M-Ma'am, H-Hwang Hyunjin, uh- he's here for his interview," she speaks in a timid voice, face flushed the brightest pink you'd ever seen on her. 

Your brows furrow ever so slightly in wonder and concern at her out of character demeanor; Nayeon is among the most confident and well spoken employees on your team, and you've never known her to stutter or appear so off kilter. "..Right, send him in," you say after a moment, wondering if her attitude shift is due to the stranger you'd be meeting shortly; if that is the case, you'll have to talk to her about it once the interview is over- you wouldn't want to hire someone the people on your team are uncomfortable around. 

She nods and opens the door further, the silhouette of the taller man coming into view just slightly behind her. "Right in here," she mutters, stepping to the side and motioning for Hyunjin to enter your office. It becomes immediately apparent what the reason for Nayeon's abnormal behavior is; Hwang Hyunjin is easily one of the most beautiful men you've ever seen in your entire life. 

Black hair that just begins to touch his shoulders tucked neatly behind his ears, a few strands left untouched to frame his face, accompanied by wide circle glasses that seem to further enhance his beauty. He's dressed well, his suit modern and sleek but not overly formal for the setting, his accessories tasteful and understated, as they should be in an office environment- just a simple, long chain necklace and small, almost dainty hoops on his pierced ears. 

The reason that a man this gorgeous would even be applying to work here when he could easily make a fortune being a model is beyond you. You're quick to correct the initial surprise on your face, hoping that the man you'll be interviewing didn't notice how struck by his beauty you were when he stepped in. And how could you even know that he did notice you had a reaction to him- and not because of any overtly obvious expression of attraction, but because he could hear the beating of your heart with his inhuman ears, its steady rhythm taking a sudden, erratic jump the very moment he first stepped through the door. 

Nayeon is quick to close the door behind Hyunjin once he has stepped fully inside your office, leaving you in privacy for what will likely be the most difficult interview you have ever conducted, and not for the reasons you would've otherwise expected. "Have a seat," you speak clearly, as if your heart wasn't stuttering just mere moments ago, motioning for Hyunjin to take one of the chairs sitting opposite of your desk. "Pleasure to meet you, Hyunjin," you say after he's taken a seat, politely holding out your hand to shake his.

"Likewise, ma'am. I'm grateful to be considered for this position," he responds with a smile so effortlessly charming that you have to once again remind yourself that this is a professional setting and you shouldn't be thinking about how handsome the potential new addition to your team is. If you were a worse woman with lesser morals, you'd hire him on appearance alone- his flawless skin, plush, soft, almost inviting lips, and the little mole that sits daintily under his left eye are all positively bewitching to look at. 

You collect yourself after a brief mental scolding, deciding to get straight into the most pertinent questions you have once he's settled in his seat, opting to waste no time in getting straight to the point. While this approach does make the interview more tense for the applicant, you find it best to go about it this way to make sure they're truly ready for the sort of discussions that will be expected of them should they get hired. You don't expect perfection, but more accurately determination- if they can maintain a confident air about them under pressure, that's typically a good indicator to you they'll be a good fit for your team. 

Equally, you don't mind if they stumble over their words a few times throughout the course of the interview as long as they show the ability to bounce back from any slip ups. Error is expected at some point, as we are all human- you just want to assess their ability to come back from a mistake when speaking, and to see if they are able to maintain their composure in situations that may not be the most ideal or comfortable. 

The ease at which Hyunjin answers your questions has you convinced that he's perfect. He speaks confidently, coming across as self-assured and charismatic, not at all stuttering or faltering when you ask him to speak candidly with his own words. You appreciate a well rehearsed answer of course, but you like to ascertain whether or not the person you're considering for the job is able to maintain confidence when not using an internal script or reciting their memorized resume. 

Some struggle to do so, losing confidence in themselves the moment they are expected to go off the cuff, while others find it to be a trick question of sorts, as if you're baiting them to say a flaw that would place them out of consideration for the position they're applying for. What you value most on your team is adaptability- it's okay to falter for a brief moment, as long as they are able to collect themselves quickly and continue where they left off. And Hyunjin's ability to do just that is utterly astounding. 

He has an almost effortless sort of confidence and charisma about him; something unique and special that you don't often see, a state of being that isn't learned, but rather is innate to who he is. Even when he briefly pauses or lets out a small "hmm" as he thinks about his answer to your question, it never feels like he's struggling to find his answer- more accurately, it seems that he already knows what his answer is, and is just pondering on the best way to phrase it before speaking. 

It seemed that even his unrehearsed, unfiltered answers were nearly perfect, his ability to speak leaving you almost in awe. Truly, in the year and a half it's been since you were promoted to head of human resources, you'd never conducted an interview where the person you were speaking to seemed this effortlessly natural and comfortable in what is otherwise a tense situation. Honestly, you'd be a fool not to hire him right on the spot- his ability speaks for itself, and you're confident that any weaknesses he has can be corrected quickly and easily with more experience in the work environment. 

So you congratulate him, smiling as you once again hold out your hand and welcome him as part of your team. And Hyunjin smiles too as he takes your hand in his, knowing that this is just the start of what is his grand plan to make you his.

In the months it’s been since you first hired Hyunjin, he’s come to learn so much more about you than he did just lingering around in your apartment, and with that has come an even deeper appreciation and desire to have you. Your good nature, which he knew you had from little interactions at shops and cafes, was now able to be fully seen by him- from the way you cared about your team, treated them like equals despite the fact that you were their superior in rank, and how you encouraged and fostered true friendships between everyone on your team. 

You held so much sincere care for everyone around you, and you lead with compassion and kindness at the forefront. If someone was sick, having an off day due to mental health, or simply felt the pressures of life weighing them down, you always met them with compassion, encouraged them to get better, and never made them feel bad about themselves for any small slip ups that occurred while they were struggling with something. 

Of course, in this line of work it’s vital that they show up always ready to do their utmost best and show others the best versions of themselves, but you weren’t some militant manager that expected people to always be at 100%. It’s unrealistic, and hypocritical to expect perfection, so instead you always did your best to accommodate them when they were low, and that consideration resulted in your coworkers and employees having a great deal of respect for you, and caused them to always put in their best effort. 

By extension, your care for your team resulted in equal care towards you, and it seemed they greatly missed you when you were absent due to your move. They had fine enough leadership while you were gone, sure, but it wasn’t the same without you- the one who made them feel comfortable, secure, and made them want to perform well at their jobs. What Hyunjin felt watching you was something akin to pride- and it was strange, as he had never felt pride for someone else before, usually not even for himself. 

He just liked seeing you succeed, if he had to guess; he liked knowing the woman he desired was not only beautiful in body but also in soul, just as he suspected her to be when he first came to put aside his anger and truly know her for who she is. What a happy accident it was, that he happened to be gone when you finalized your move to suite 13; because otherwise how would he ever have known what it was like to care about someone other than himself? To understand what it is that makes a human God’s greatest creation? 

He gets it now, he thinks- why God prioritized humanity, why he loves them despite how flawed and drenched with sin they are. And again, it occurs to Hyunjin how hypocritical he was before, and continues to be even now, how foolish it is for him, the very embodiment of sin, a being who is supposed to uphold depravity and ruin, to be infatuated with you, who is the very image of benevolence.

Hyunjin got to see so many new sides of you, sides that didn’t make themselves known within the 4 walls of your apartment, sides that made him fall for you more and more. A demon can’t experience love the way a human does, but he thinks this is the closest to love a creature like him will ever have. Obsession, longing, desire.. Isn’t that all a manifestation of love? Perhaps one does not need a true heart and soul to experience what love is, maybe all that one really requires is feeling. 

Most sins are a feeling- lust, pride, envy; all are an emotion you feel strongly within your gut, a natural reaction that cannot be prevented from pricking your skin or making your stomach twist. It’s innate, woven into the DNA of every creature with higher understanding. With all that mind, who is to say a demon can’t love? Maybe it won’t be felt in the same way a human feels it, but if love is a feeling, and sins are a feeling, then what truly prevents him from knowing love? 

As equally as he learned about you and himself, he also learned about the man you had developed feelings for- Yunho. According to Nayeon, who was apparently a wealth of information when it came to the subject, you met Yunho in college and have been friends with him since. You grew quite close in your time studying the same major, and as fate would have it, you both ended up working for the same conglomerate after college. 

While you ended up here, promoted to head of the department when the opening became available, Yunho worked for a different subsidiary within the same building; so while you technically worked for different companies, you shared the same CEO, and had ample opportunity to meet and talk during the company lunch hour and maintain the friendship you had in college. 

Well, he imagines you would’ve still been friends with Yunho regardless of where the two of you ended up in life after graduation, but still seeing him daily certainly didn’t help you get over the college crush you had on the man. And you had tried to move on- you’re not stupid, you know Yunho doesn’t feel the same way as you, but your relationships never worked out as you’d hoped, and you’d always be left still battling your unrequited love for your best friend. 

Though you are always professional, it was obvious, at least to the other women in the office, that you had deep feelings for Yunho. They could always tell in the way your face changed when he was near, displaying a timid smile that only ever showed up for him, the flush on your face subtle but recognizable to those who knew you well.  

And by extension, it became increasingly obvious to the rest of the office that Hyunjin was down bad for you, and hated seeing you with Yunho. His face too always changed when Yunho arrived, though in an entirely different way from you- Hyunjin would be positively seething with jealousy, always failing to mask the frown of disapproval when Yunho stepped into your office to talk and invite you out for lunch outside the building. 

And Hyunjin, who was always a gentleman anyways, was even more so when it came to you- holding open doors for you when walking somewhere together, carrying stacks upon stacks of heavy paperwork so you wouldn’t have to do it, memorizing the way you liked your coffee so he could get it for you and you could focus instead on your work. The only time Hyunjin ever wasn’t smiling, it was when you were giving your affection to Yunho, and it was painfully obvious how bad he wanted you. 

If Hyunjin was trying to keep his feelings a secret, well.. He failed to do so at every turn. Everyone in the office could tell how he felt, and while they would never admit it, most were just waiting for the day he’d ask you out, as it seemed to be more and more inevitable that he would. Some who had been your coworkers since long before you were even promoted and knew of your unrequited feelings, hoped that Hyunjin could be the person to finally give you the happiness you deserve. 

Even you yourself began to suspect that Hyunjin liked you as more than a friend or coworker, because why else would he go so out of his way for you? Why else would his face change whenever he saw Yunho? You can still remember the way his smile dropped when Yunho stepped into the room when you were having lunch with your team, how Hyunjin subtly clenched his teeth and tightened his fists, how he’d practically glare at the man before replacing his expression with the most forced smile you’d ever seen him have for the sake of professionalism. 

Were you being delusional? To say Hyunjin is fucking gorgeous is an understatement- he’s practically ethereal. And while you wanted to move on from your stupid school girl crush on Yunho that continued to grip you all these years later, wasn’t it too much to fantasize about Hyunjin being the person to finally make you happy? He could have anyone, and you couldn’t understand why he’d want you of all people when he could easily bag someone more impressive than you. 

You did well for yourself, but you didn’t consider yourself particularly desirable.. Maybe years of unrequited love and failed relationships made your confidence tank more than you realized, at least when it came to love and romance. And while there were other couples in the office, you worried it’d be unprofessional of you to date someone who you are technically the boss of.. Shouldn’t you be more concerned about the power dynamic instead of worrying about whether or not you were desirable enough for Hyunjin to want you? 

God, you really needed to get your priorities straight before you did something stupid; and certainly you were just reading too far into things. But still, while your feelings for Yunho didn’t go away, you still couldn’t deny that your heart would race whenever Hyunjin smiled at you, couldn’t ignore how goosebumps would erupt on your skin when his hand lingered on yours as he handed you a perfectly made cup of coffee, couldn’t help but linger on the the thought of what a perfect lover he must be.

As if sensing you were thinking of him, you hear a knock on your door, breaking you out of your thoughts and seeing Hyunjin crack open the door. “May I?” he asks, and you smile politely with a nod, motioning for him to enter your office. “Hey Hyunjin, what’s up? Need something?” you ask and he shakes his head, sitting on the chair in front of you. “Nothing work related, though I do want to ask you something,” he replies, and immediately your mind wanders to delusional territory again, though you quickly try to shut it down. 

“What is it?” you ask, trying your best not to fill your brain with the thought of Hyunjin making a move on you. Be professional for God’s sake. “I was wondering,” he starts, looking at you with that charming smile that is so natural to him and you always have to stop yourself from folding over, “If you don’t have any prior obligations today, would you like to have lunch with me?” 

Oh no. He’s adding fuel to your delusional fire. “Just us?” you ask, trying to mask your hope or the way your heart is picking up speed. You really want to be chill about the invite, but you really can’t help but hope the invitation means something more. He’s perfect, how could you not? You’re only human, after all. Isn’t it natural to want someone this fucking beautiful to want you? 

“Yes, just us. You don’t have to consider it a date, but.. I would be happy if you did,” he smiles, head tilting to the side in an almost playful display, and your heart jolts. He’s not just playing with you, right? He wouldn’t, would he? But you have to ask, “You make it sound as if you want me to consider it a date. Are you saying you like me?” 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, ma’am,” he replies without hesitation, confidence fully on display. It’s as if the possibility of you saying “no” has never crossed his mind. Well, you’d probably be confident too if you looked anything like him; you don’t imagine he’s been rejected often. And well, you certainly won’t be the person to hit him with his first rejection either; you’ll have to ask a third party to handle the necessary paperwork if things go well between you and Hyunjin, as the head of the department can’t approve and oversee her own consensual relationship agreement, but it’ll be worth it, you think. 

After all, if someone this beautiful and seemingly perfect wants you, why deny yourself the opportunity? Even if it doesn’t work out, maybe he’ll be the person to finally help you get over your stupid crush on your best friend that’s been going nowhere for years. Apart from his beauty, he’s always been chivalrous and attentive towards you, a true gentleman in every sense of the word. And even if it's only for a brief time, you think he can make you feel happy, desired, truly cared for.

You’re about to tell him you’d love to, when your door unexpectedly clicks open, your eyes moving past Hyunjin to see Yunho standing in the doorway. Hyunjin immediately scowls, having half a mind to rip him apart once the day is over, though he does his best to temper his aggravation. Can’t let himself lose face in front of the one he loves after all; he’s not sure you’d still be up for a date with him if he displayed his jealous, possessive tendencies this early on (not that he did a very good job of hiding them to begin with.)

“Shit, sorry- am I interrupting a meeting?” Yunho asks, and Hyunjin rolls his eyes, turning his gaze back to you instead. “No, nothing like that,” you answer, shifting your gaze back to Hyunjin, who for the first time looks concerned that you’ll turn him down. It’s subtle, but his eyes are softer, nearly pleading, though he tries his best to not display the desperation that lies underneath- the desperation for you to affirm that you like him too, that you want to go on a date with him, that you want to give him a chance. 

“Oh, good,” Yunho sighs in relief, knowing that sometimes your work bleeds over into the lunch hour. He glances at Hyunjin, a slight frown forming on his face. He’s never spoken to the guy, but Yunho would have to blind to not notice that Hyunjin hates him for seemingly no reason. “Well, uh- I’ll let you get back to whatever talk you’re having. I’ll see you for lunch when it's over?” Yunho asks, and you can see Hyunjin swallow, hands tensing as he waits for your reply. 

Please don’t reject me, his body practically screams, and you almost can’t believe that the confident man that you know is looking this nervous over potential rejection because of you. “Thanks, but I’m actually having lunch with Hyunjin today. Maybe next time?” you answer, smiling at Hyunjin to reassure him that yes, you are going on a date. No, you won’t be picking Yunho over him, despite the history that lies there.  

Relief instantly spreads through Hyunjin, and he returns your smile, his confidence returning as if it’d never left in the first place. “Oh,” Yunho blinks in surprise; that’s.. unexpected. You’ve never prioritized someone else over him before. Huh. He feels.. strange. Jealous..? No, that can’t be right. Why would he be jealous? Hyunjin stands, offering his hand to you, which you accept before you stand yourself. 

“Are you ready, ma’am? I know this cafe you’ll just love, but we have to hurry if we wan’t to make it back before the hour is over,” Hyunjin smiles, turning away to face the door, and subsequently, an almost bewildered looking Yunho. You miss the way Hyunjin shoots your best friend a smug, almost triumphant smirk; a smirk that says I’ve won, she’s mine. And even as Yunho watches the pair of you walk towards the elevator, hears you tell Hyunjin he can call you by your name when it’s “just the two of us,” suddenly he feels incredibly stupid. 

Even as he’s left standing there, watching the elevator doors close with just the two of you inside, he can feel his gut twist as Hyunjin shoots him one last smirk, one that affirms something Yunho is just now realizing- there was a reason Hyunjin hated him. All this time, Yunho was a rival for love, and he just lost the race without ever having actually participated. 

He scoffs, laughing at himself in near disbelief. What an idiot he’s been, and what a moment to realize it. He knew you had a crush on him, but what did he expect? That you’ll always be there, just waiting for the day he’d finally miraculously return your feelings after all these years? Of course you’d move on eventually; and maybe Yunho didn’t want to admit he found your infatuation with him to be a comfortable ego boost, now hit with the epiphany that his newfound jealousy over the loss of your affection is ugly and twisted. 

And truly, Hyunjin had him beat. Somehow, he knew that this was the end of your feelings for him. How ironic it is to lose due to his own complacency, his expectation that you’d always be there no matter what relationships you found yourselves in. How arrogant and selfish he’d been, assured that no matter whom he slept with or pursued, you’d be there just waiting for the day he’d finally ask you out. And now Hyunjin has you, and he’s certain he’ll never let you go.