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hayatheauthor · 2 months ago

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The Anatomy of Punching a Character in the Face

Punching scenes are a staple of action sequences in many genres. Whether it’s an intense brawl, a quick defense, or an emotional outburst, a punch can carry a lot of weight both physically and narratively. As a writer, it’s essential to understand what really happens when a fist meets a face—from the immediate impact to the longer-lasting effects on both the person getting punched and the one throwing the punch.

This guide will help you craft authentic, detailed, and believable punch scenes by exploring different areas of the face, types of punches, and the aftermath of such an impact.

1. Target Areas of the Face and Their Vulnerabilities

A punch isn’t a one-size-fits-all situation. Depending on where the fist lands, the consequences will vary significantly. Different parts of the face have varying levels of vulnerability, and targeting these areas produces different effects, from knockouts to broken bones.

A. Jawline: The Knockout Zone

The jawline is a classic target in many fight scenes, especially when knockout punches are involved. This area is highly vulnerable because a hit here causes the head to snap to the side, leading to a sharp rotational movement of the brain inside the skull. This movement disrupts the brain’s communication and often results in a temporary loss of consciousness—what we commonly refer to as a "knockout."

Common Effects: Dislocation or fracture of the jaw, loss of consciousness, slurred speech, and severe pain.

Visual Aftermath: Swelling around the jawline, bruising, and possible misalignment of the jaw if broken.

B. Nose: Breaking and Bleeding

The nose is another vulnerable target, known for being easily broken. It’s not just a fragile bone structure, but it’s also connected to many blood vessels, meaning a direct punch to the nose often results in immediate bleeding. The nasal bone can fracture, causing difficulty in breathing, and in some cases, the nose may need surgical intervention to reset.

Common Effects: Intense pain, bleeding, difficulty breathing, potential for a broken nose.

Visual Aftermath: Blood running from the nostrils, swelling, and significant bruising around the nose and eyes.

C. Cheekbones (Zygomatic Bones): Bruising and Fractures

The cheekbones are one of the more solid structures in the face but are still susceptible to breaks, particularly from a heavy blow. Damage here can lead to not just bruising, but potentially severe injuries that can affect the entire facial structure.

Common Effects: Fractures of the zygomatic bone, swelling, bruising, and pain extending to the eye socket.

Visual Aftermath: Black eyes, noticeable swelling on one side of the face, and a sunken appearance if the bone is fractured.

D. Forehead: A Hard Target

The forehead is much harder than most parts of the face and is less vulnerable to severe damage. However, punches to the forehead can still cause pain, disorientation, and dazing of the recipient. While it’s less likely to result in a knockout, it’s effective in dazing an opponent, especially if the puncher’s goal is to create an opening for another strike.

Common Effects: Swelling, redness, and potential concussions if hit with enough force.

Visual Aftermath: Redness, minimal bruising, and a dazed expression.

E. Eyes: Black Eyes and Swelling

A punch to the eyes is particularly brutal because the area around the eyes is delicate, and the skin is thin. It’s not just about swelling but also potential damage to the orbital bones. The impact can cause "black eyes," characterized by intense bruising and swelling that may close the eye shut for days.

Common Effects: Swelling, black eyes, potential orbital bone fractures, temporary blurred vision.

Visual Aftermath: Discoloration that starts purple and turns yellowish-green as it heals, swollen shut eyes.

2. Types of Punches

Not all punches are created equal. The type of punch thrown can drastically change the outcome of the scene, both in terms of damage and realism. Understanding these different types of punches will allow you to convey more varied and dynamic fight sequences.

A. Jab: Speed and Precision

A jab is a quick, straight punch, usually thrown with the non-dominant hand. It’s not meant to be a knockout punch but more of a setup punch to create an opening or keep the opponent at a distance. Jabs are fast and can be disorienting, especially if they repeatedly land in quick succession.

Common Effects: Light bruising, potential cuts, and swelling in the area hit.

B. Cross: Power and Impact

The cross is a powerful, straight punch delivered with the dominant hand. It’s often aimed at vulnerable spots like the jaw or nose. Unlike a jab, the cross is meant to deliver a significant amount of force, and when landed properly, it can cause serious damage.

Common Effects: Knockouts, broken bones, severe swelling, and bruising.

C. Hook: Lateral Devastation

A hook is a wide, circular punch that targets the side of the head, particularly the jaw or temple. It’s one of the most powerful punches and is often used with the intent of knocking the opponent out.

Common Effects: Knockouts, severe disorientation, potential for concussions, and jaw dislocations.

D. Uppercut: Lifting from Below

The uppercut is thrown upward, usually aimed at the chin. It’s a devastating punch that can lift the opponent’s head and jolt their brain, leading to knockouts. Uppercuts are especially dangerous when they land cleanly on the jaw or chin.

Common Effects: Knockouts, broken teeth, jaw fractures, and disorientation.

E. Haymaker: Risky but Powerful

A haymaker is a wild, swinging punch delivered with as much force as possible. It’s often thrown with reckless abandon and is easy to dodge, but if it connects, it can deal significant damage. Because of its wide arc, it leaves the puncher exposed to counterattacks.

Common Effects: Knockouts, severe bruising, and possible fractures if landed correctly.

3. Punch Wounds: What They Look Like and Healing

Punches to the face leave lasting marks, some immediately visible and others taking days to fully form. Understanding the aftermath of a punch will help you describe the physical toll on your characters more accurately.

A. Immediate Effects

Swelling and Redness: Swelling can begin almost instantly, particularly in areas with soft tissue like the eyes and lips.

Bruising: Bruises start off as red, then turn purple, blue, and eventually fade into yellow or green as they heal.

Bleeding: Punches to the nose, lips, and even cheeks can result in bleeding, either from the skin breaking or from internal damage like a broken nose.

B. Long-Term Injuries

Black Eyes: Punches near the eyes can lead to bruising that darkens the skin around the eyes, giving it a purplish hue.

Fractures: Broken bones, such as the nose or jaw, may require weeks to heal, and in severe cases, surgery may be necessary.

Scarring: If the skin is cut open, there’s the potential for scarring, especially if stitches are required.

C. Healing Process

Bruises: These typically take about a week to two weeks to heal, with the colors shifting as the body absorbs the blood trapped under the skin.

Fractures: Healing from fractures can take several weeks to months, depending on the severity.

Swelling: Swelling can last anywhere from a few hours to a few days, with cold compresses helping to reduce it.

4. How the Punch Affects the Puncher

While we often focus on the person receiving the punch, it’s important to remember that throwing a punch can also take a toll on the puncher.

A. Physical Strain

Knuckle Damage: Hitting a hard surface, like a jaw or forehead, can cause damage to the puncher’s knuckles. This is known as a “boxer’s fracture,” where the small bones in the hand break due to impact.

Wrist Injury: If the punch is not aligned correctly, the wrist can absorb too much force, leading to sprains or breaks.

Fatigue: After multiple punches, especially in a drawn-out fight, the puncher can become fatigued, leading to less powerful or accurate strikes.

B. Emotional and Psychological Effects

Adrenaline Rush: For inexperienced fighters, throwing a punch can lead to an adrenaline surge, which can cause tunnel vision or reckless behavior.

Moral Conflict: If the puncher is not used to violence, they may experience guilt or shock at the damage they’ve caused, especially if the recipient is significantly injured.

5. Psychological Impact of Receiving a Punch

A punch to the face doesn’t only cause physical damage. For the recipient, it can have a lasting psychological effect, especially if the punch was unexpected or in a vulnerable situation. Writing this aspect adds depth to your characters and shows that a punch is more than just physical pain.

A. Shock and Fear

Fight or Flight Response: Getting punched can immediately trigger a fight-or-flight reaction. Some characters might freeze or retreat, especially if they’ve never been in a physical altercation before.

Loss of Confidence: For characters not used to violence, being punched in the face may cause a significant loss of confidence. They may question their own strength, bravery, or ability to defend themselves.

Increased Aggression: Alternatively, the punch may trigger a rage-fueled response, pushing the character into aggressive, reckless action.

B. Embarrassment and Humiliation

Public Fights: If the punch occurs in front of others, there’s often an added layer of humiliation. Characters might feel embarrassed, even if they weren’t at fault.

Internalizing the Event: The recipient of the punch may carry the emotional impact for a long time, replaying the event in their mind, feeling shame, or seeking revenge.

C. Post-Traumatic Stress

Lingering Anxiety: In extreme cases, receiving a punch can cause anxiety or even post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Characters who’ve experienced significant trauma might relive the event through flashbacks or become hyper-vigilant, avoiding confrontations in the future.

Fear of Future Confrontations: A character who’s been severely beaten might actively avoid scenarios where they could be hit again, making them overly cautious or paranoid.

6. Writing Tips: Making It Believable

Writing a punch scene isn't just about describing the physical action. To make the moment believable and impactful, you’ll need to consider various elements—from pacing and sensory details to character psychology and aftermath. Here’s how to make your punch scenes authentic:

A. Build Tension Before the Punch

Foreshadowing Conflict: Build up the tension before the punch is thrown. Is the character agitated? Are there verbal warnings or body language that suggests things are escalating? By slowly ramping up the tension, the eventual punch feels earned and inevitable.

Use Dialogue: A heated exchange of words can make a punch more meaningful. If the punch follows a particularly cutting remark or threat, it adds weight to the action.

B. Focus on Sensory Details

Physical Sensations: Describe not just the punch itself, but how it feels. Does the skin split? Does the puncher’s knuckles scrape against teeth or bone? Is there an immediate sting or delayed throbbing pain?

Sound: The sound of a punch can enhance the realism of the scene. A dull thud as a fist connects with soft tissue, the crack of a bone breaking, or the splatter of blood hitting the floor are all effective auditory details.

C. Show Immediate and Delayed Reactions

Physical Reaction: After being punched, characters rarely shake it off immediately. Staggering, falling, or momentarily losing their vision are realistic reactions. You can also show how the puncher feels—did their hand hurt from the impact?

Emotional Fallout: Punches are often emotional events. Show how your characters feel right after—whether it’s satisfaction, regret, or shock. The emotional weight of a punch can be just as impactful as the physical consequences.

D. Consider the Aftermath

Healing Process: Don’t forget that punches have a lasting impact. A black eye will take days to heal, and a broken nose could require medical attention. Characters might have to deal with soreness, swelling, or difficulty talking and eating.

Ongoing Tension: A punch can dramatically shift relationships. A once-trusting friendship could be shattered, or a bitter rivalry could be born. Make sure to carry the emotional weight of the punch forward in your story.

7. Common Misconceptions About Punching

Many writers fall into the trap of perpetuating unrealistic portrayals of punches. These misconceptions can make your scenes feel less authentic or overly cinematic. Here’s how to avoid them.

A. The Myth of the "Clean Knockout"

Reality: A punch to the jaw might cause a knockout, but it’s not always instant. In real life, knockouts are often messy and unpredictable. The recipient might stagger or struggle before finally losing consciousness, and they could wake up with serious concussions, memory loss, or nausea.

B. Punches Always Cause Immediate Bleeding

Reality: While a punch to the nose often causes immediate bleeding, not all punches result in visible blood. Even when skin splits, it might take a moment for blood to pool and become visible. Bruising and swelling often take hours to fully appear.

C. Punching Doesn’t Always Lead to a Win

Reality: Throwing a punch doesn’t guarantee victory. The puncher could hurt themselves, miss entirely, or end up escalating a fight they weren’t prepared for. Additionally, punches to the forehead or temple might not have the knockout effect portrayed in movies—they could just make the puncher’s hand hurt more than the opponent.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks?

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Quillology with Haya Sameer; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors! While you’re at it, don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey!

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1864reruns · 6 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤgratefulness (i'm sorry, can this be over now?)ㅤ౨ৎㅤ12.9k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ2024 ©1864RERUNS

oneㅤ/ㅤtwo synopsis. luffy loves you— you know this with how abundantly clear love is in every ministration of his outstretched hand and a grin— yet your traitorous heart demands more, even though you're in no place to give him your loyalty. you know this so you do not demand his love nor to be saved, even when met with a relentlessly stretched hand.

warning(s). gn! reader, hanahaki disease, but some creatively liberated variation of it, angst, hurt/some comfort, slow burn, but does it really count if nothing happens?, unrequited love, pining and the works, background character death, blood, violent imagery, vague allusion to an unspecified mental disorder that involves eating habits (pls be careful!!!), luffy tries his best to be kind but it's cruel, reader spirals ��; minimal editing and proofreading (these are basically my thoughts raw and unadulterated)

from vyon. the card game they play is a vietnamese one also known as smth like thirteen in english and has too many rules to explain but it doesn't really matter :3 i was a beast at that game though i fear; this fanfic has been in my drafts for so long, it also grew into too big of a project than it was meant to be. i also had to split this up into two parts, it was getting too long, i'm sorry ＞︿＜

do not repost / copy / translate.

Once you know Monkey D. Luffy, you'll know his heart not a few minutes after. He's welded the unmoving, burning ingot to his bicep, always on display due to his amassing collection of armless vests; rubber skin melted around the golden gem, oozing past the lines of his beating heart to staple it there, an anomaly on the expanse of skin not otherwise susceptible to bullets or cannons. Your captain is a man that lives with his heart on his tongue, always ready to dictate the lay of your next move with an irregular beat that drums against the skinned men of war and an impulsivity that makes his crew scramble after him exasperatedly; oxygen taken from his cerebral arteries to his brain are stained in the grease and oil that stick to the meat he handles so carelessly. In the same endearing way, he's careless with his heart, allows for the small stuff to momentarily prick his heart, for judgement to cloud into anger before it picks up on the bitter taste of agony.

It's always easy to get a frown onto Luffy's face. Feign disinterest in his stories; make yourself too busy to help him look for strange insects; force him to shower, scold him after he does something he wasn't meant to; keep him away from something he seems interested in; starve him for more than five minutes— he makes it all exceptionally too easy. You're not audacious enough to claim to know Luffy any more than the Strawhats, especially not those that he had met in East Blue; you try not to let it bother you that they managed to meet a younger Luffy who had so many holes in his defence, whose smile threatened through skin more, who had yet to find scars in his palm from how hard he had to clench his fists.

To you, it seems unfair that Luffy had managed to uncover so many of your firsts. His unwavering presence by your side as you learnt how hard it was to live on sea, the intonations of your screaming when a marine canon was pointed at you, to live so freely away from the confines of restrictive justice, how it felt to have a hand in yours to promise forever and then some. Luffy has no preferential treatment when it comes to people he loves; he treats them all the same, no hierarchy could dream to disrupt that.

With the same sandals he uses to stomp on the faces of Marine's, he could demand food from Sanji, money from Nami, Zoro to play with him— instead, you watch him whine Sanji, food and dissolve into a puddle when his cook orders him to wait, he allows Nami's fists to fall onto his head when he makes any financially impulsive decision (or even thinks them), and he idles himself with drawing on Zoro's face with Usopp and Chopper, with the previous two of them taking the psychical brunt of their consequences. (Chopper is let off with a mere promise that he won't join in with their shenanigans again when it involves making Zoro into a fool and a growing bump underneath his hat.)

Luffy, from second to fourth gear, is tender aggression when it is love.

His form is bizarrely respectful when the door opens and light dawns upon your face; you see him through the gaps of Nami and Sanji's legs and towering forms over him, his hands on his thighs and feet tucked underneath his bottom. He slurs out an I'm sorry that lets you know that his face is definitely messed up and then follows up with an I was hungry though!

Then Nami messes him up some more for his shitty justification.

She leaves him— some caricature of her anger— on the floor with her hands on her hips and Sanji trailing after her with hearts in his eyes at her dominant display of power. As she passes Brook, he asks for the colour of her underwear and earns himself the same treatment. It's then that you laugh. Luffy snapped his head up, following after the trembling air of your laughter and then calls out your name, the syllables are all messy around his swollen cheeks and a missing tooth that will come back after a few minutes but you cannot rid yourself of the thought that it's sticky with love that you only remember hearing when you were just a babe, screaming and crying in the arms of a tired and ill mother in a hospital. You were introduced to a group of midwives with same love you hear now, their idle finger catching into both your small hands; Luffy's hand dances across the air, breaking apart your laugh with urgency and catching onto your wrist.

You're not sure if it's you who had been pulled to him or if he'd managed to catapult himself into you but you both end up a mess on the floor regardless. Limbs tangled around each other in a wave as you both fall to the deck, Luffy does not correct the length of his arm and takes to wrapping the limb around you like a vine snaked around the trunk of a tree. You don't know a start nor an end as Luffy nuzzles his beat–up face on your shoulder. "Hey captain," you raise your head to look down on him, trying to wrench a hand through the tight spirals he's coiled around you.

"I'm hungry," he whines in lieu of a response, "and I'm bored, Usopp kicked me out after I ate one of his ketchup stars." He doesn't relent with his hold on you, simply loosening the coil that you're trying to work your hand through before tightening again once your arm makes it past to trap it against your side. You don't question the fact that Usopp's ketchup stars may be laced with gunpowder or what the small dose of gunpowder may have done to Luffy's internal organs.

You guess even Usopp has his limits when it comes to his childish captain. "I can't do a lot about either of those things if you're keeping me hostage here." He looks up at you, his exaggeratedly large lips in a pout that matches the swelling of his cheeks and then says your name again, like you’ve done him wrong. It's a disordered collection of the letters again but you find you can't really do anything to fight against it. Instead, green tendrils sprout from your trapped arm, each vine wrapped in a light of leaves and strain against his extended limb before he gives in and, instead, laughs as he wraps his rubber arm around the spindly, twisted branches splitting open layers of skin on your bicep. His skin coloured against the green runner keeps the bine from wilting down to meet gravity.

You let Luffy do whatever he wants, with an expression that you're not sure you're too familiar with etched out on the lines of your face. Thinking back on it, you could've simply done as Nami had or Usopp, ignore or scold him enough into submission but his fingers catch one of the fronds and it curls between the meat of his fingertips, reaching out to tickle his palm and something soft blooms inside you. You know it must be you, not the work of your devil fruit, because as much as you've tried in your lacklustre pursuit of beauty, you've never been able to sprout any kind of flowers.

When Luffy finally lets you go, you find your way into the kitchen and give Sanji a smile. You apologise for interrupting him and tell him that you know that lunch had been served only an hour ago but, if he wasn't too busy, you were still a little peckish. Sanji shoots up immediately and asks you what you've got a taste for— you assure him any leftovers from lunch will do and he tells you, though this doesn't come as any surprise, that Luffy had worked his way through any grain of leftovers with a laugh. You laugh along with him and well, you seemed to be craving meat right now.

The plate he prepares seem to be more about quality rather than quantity, with sauce underneath the red meat drizzled across the white ceramic, a slab of meat already cut into bite sized pieces for you and a decorative herb stuck between the fatty slices but when the light oozes down into the stretch of meat, you don't think Luffy will complain too much.

You, of course, were right about that.

The shattering grin he greets you (the plate of meat, however small it seemed) with gives you the faint smell of sticky rain drenched in the light of the sun, and you almost give him your hand when he reaches out for the plate. Brook's guitar strums in the background and your heart shakes in time with his strings and Luffy's incessant chewing.

You've really no problems with Usopp asking you to help him with target practice, it's fairly common for you to help the crew with their unique fighting style— save Nami and Franky for fear of losing your life with their less than particular aimed area of damage— it's easy enough really. You don't even have to be mentally present for it; shaking through layers of flesh, vines grow across the deck of the Sunny and rise up straight to tower over Usopp as he fixes his goggles over his eyes. You keep a quarter of your mind instilled in every chloroplast that shivers across the skies so you can keep them moving but the other three quarters are focused on the card game you play with Robin, Chopper, and Franky.

You hear the snapping of elastic and your finger twitches against the back of playing cards as the particular vine shot to the left, glancing curiously at Chopper's hand across from you when he turned to Franky and accuses him of looking at his cards.

"It's not my fault!" Franky frowned, fixing his comedically small glasses to perch on his metal nose. "Your cards just happen to be in my view when I'm looking at the pile 'cause you're tiny!"

Chopper takes to this horribly (you reshape a vine that has fallen to one of Usopp's stones and keep it relentless across the wave of air) and he grows into the much less cute and broader, more human version of himself to hold his hand out of Franky's view. (Two vines snap together and they take the path to slice through air to where Usopp stands, you hear the cracking of wood as Usopp shouts at you, saying he only wanted to focus on offence. An apology is drawn out with the green arm in the air.)

"Ivy," your eyes flicker to Robin and she gestures to the pile of discarded where the two of spades had been placed on top. "It's your turn." You glance down at your hand, eyes flickering over the collection of 7's in your hand.

"Bomb." (You feel a vine break apart into pieces, think about the fact that it's lucky you've no nerves attached to the tendrils, and keep the one down to give Usopp a little win.) Franky curses your name as Robin chuckles.

Chopper glances at the four 7's with a sense of wonderment that you're sure is too dramatic for the moment. "No wonder I had no sevens!" You give him a sly grin and watch Robin pass her turn, ignoring Franky's levelled glare behind his glasses.

In the end, Robin wins anyways, ridding herself of her hand with her final card being the two of hearts. The loss is taken bitterly by both you and Franky though you think Franky definitely takes it worse than you do as when he stands to sulk away, cards fall out of his speedos, and they leave a trail after him. Robin, in all her morbidity, laughs behind a hand as you and Chopper drop your jaws in disgust.

Chopper collects the cards, hesitating with the ones that had been on Franky until Robin points out that you've all played many rounds and there's a chance that all of them had shared the same fate. (Another vine shutters down to the floor, broken apart and particles flown across the deck.) The cards slowly fall to the floor as Chopper cries out in disgust. Shaking your head with some colourful amusement, you use the two vines fallen to pick up the cards and start shuffling them.

Responding to Chopper's call, Luffy shoots his way from Sunny's figurehead. "What're you guys doin'?" He falls graciously to where Franky had previously been sitting; his eyes are ever so impatient to glance over the cards being shuffled. "Oh," he says with great interest, "are you guys playing 'go fish'?" He leaned towards you— the cards in your possession, actually— and blinks at the shuffling. "Lemme in!"

"We weren't playing 'go fish', Luffy." The little doctor has since calmed down, taking a seat between Luffy and Robin and shaking his head. "We were playing—" he turns his head up to Robin, to which she supplies 'bài tiến lên' with the intricate accents and all, "that!"

A flash of thinking places itself on Luffy's face, crossing his arm and tapping the side of his sandals on the deck, then it's gone. "Let's just play 'go fish' then."

Chopper whines, saying that 'go fish' is boring and that Luffy always snatches more than one card from other people's hands, which is cheating, and that he doesn't want to play.

Luffy turns to you with a pout, eyebrows furrowed at the dip where his nose bridge starts and then straightened out towards the end. The two vines that had been expertly dodging all of Usopp's shots and taunting him by doing silly dances and twisting into words in the air both crumple down to the floor at the same time, they follow the curve of your spine as you double over, a breath stuttering in your throat. You hear Usopp call your name and the deck of cards slip out from the vines that had been shuffling this entire time, your hand wraps around your throat and you hack out a cough you've managed to choke on.

"Are you dying?" Chopper shoots up, frantic as you keep coughing and choking— both violent in temperament, and scampers around, shouting for a doctor.

Footsteps tap closer as a shadow forms over you, Usopp's hand patting your back ferociously comes after the sound of shoes stop.

The blur that came with tears invading your eyes gives you the confidence to look at Luffy again before you're calling Chopper to a stop. "I'm fine, just choked on air."

You don't mention how it felt like you were breathing through a cheesecloth, how your lungs feel so restricted with every inhale as you all compromise on 'chase the ace' and how easier it feels when Usopp pushes his way between you and Luffy, too intimidated to pick from Robin's hand; when you all finish up for dinner, Robin is looking at you in a way that makes you think she's caught onto how you've been struggling.

Dinner is a strange ordeal. It's characterised with its usual events: Luffy sneaking his hands into people's plates though his stands full, Usopp trying to hold his plate out of his way, Zoro tending to his glass bottle of beer, Sanji making some quip about Zoro's show of alcoholism, Nami getting increasingly annoyed by the noise around her, Brook's laughter, Zoro escalating the situation with Sanji, Chopper screaming when Luffy clears Usopp's plate and then goes for the doctor's, Robin watching the scene with the patience of a saint, Franky pretending he was better than the rest, Usopp exacting revenge on Luffy by swapping their plates. It all ends with Nami telling them all to shut up and Luffy taking one final chicken leg from Zoro's plate. You stare down at your plate and count the missing bits, Luffy hasn't really touched any of the potatoes or asparagus, so you finish them up.

Two chicken thighs sit in stark contrast to the plate, thinking about having them anywhere near your mouth makes you a little sick for some reason, the weight of them in your stomach, the taste of caramelised skins, crisped with wells of juice sat next to a tinge of burnt flesh; you push the plate over to Luffy and detest the way he can take the colour of well–done oranges between his teeth and not care about the juice dribbling down his chin.

Luffy says thanks with his mouth full of chicken; Nami glares at him and turns a more concerned face to you (that also makes you sick) and inquires about you not eating. You mumble out some excuse about not being hungry, not feeling well, having a little bit of a headache, feeling tired— something along those faux lines, you don't remember but you remember that you don't tell them the truth exactly. "Sorry Sanji," you fix into your shitty excuse after, running a hand through your hair, to make yourself feel better about the entire ordeal.

He offers to make you a more palatable porridge or soup instead.

You take a cigarette and a red apple, going to bed hungry and angry at some unknown thing that brews on the tip of your tongue.

The next island is of great interest to Luffy.

The entire crew knows that its history nor culture was not either reason behind his excitement, only the mere prospect of digging his sandals into new, uncharted land is why he's running around the deck, filling up the empty spaces with bubbling laughter. Sanji finishes up bentos for those that are leaving, taking unnecessary extra care with Nami’s, and wishing he had it in him to starve Zoro whilst Nami is giving everyone an allowance. You take two bentos, yours and Chopper's, and head out onto the deck. Luffy only seemed momentarily sad that you were going with the doctor but bounced back immediately after when the trees come closer enough to intimidate so you push down the offer to join him instead. Franky joins up with Usopp, Luffy'll run off alone regardless of who he ends up going with, Nami ends up going with Zoro (to Sanji's displeasure), and you and Chopper make plans to find a pharmacy and a library for Robin.

Being around Chopper is easy enough with this unsettling prick of poison that's forced minimal responses, curt words, a flurry of tiredness, a sickening chill through your days recently. The little doctor is a lot more mindful of changes in mood, it's not any imminent injury either so he doesn't press to know why. Out of guilt (for being a brooding asshole lately), you ask him about his rumble balls and all his different forms. He answers cheerily and you can only pick out every other word with a persistent headache as the smell in the air changes from salty skies and bloody fish to sweetened foods and something unfamiliarly clean.

It's a bright island. You hear a faint bell in the distance that is traced over with the sound of children and stall owners; Chopper's hooves rhythmically sound beside you on the pavement and you find yourself counting them in groups of four. "Ah, there." You pick up your head and turn to follow the direction of Chopper's eyes. A sign is hung on the side of the building, the library. "Robin wanted a book of North Blue diseases for some reason," Chopper mumbles to himself as you two push open the door.

It's a small bookstore, walls lined with books and the paths carved with more standalone bookcases. "North Blue diseases?" You repeat, confused, "do they have North Blue exclusive illnesses?"

Your question goes unanswered, though it looks like it opens a vault of new questions for Chopper. Books aren't of great interests to you, so you follow behind Chopper as he walks through each section and grab whichever book he tells you to bring down for him. On the way back, you tell Chopper to keep going and change your course in search of something you're not too sure of.

You stray away from the town centre and head deeper through the small alleys of the town, there's no destination in mind; without the urgency of a fights and with the domesticity of a small knit community, you wander adrift. There's a dampness in the air to the walk around a shadowed hide of the place that loosens up the tension below your ribs, many different eyes follow after your form as the heel of your shoes click against a null path; shadows ooze around the soles of your shoe and lacquer up between the carved maze of black rubber of your soles until you find your way into a dead end.

It's a little bit of a cliché to be met with a ragtag group of delinquents when you turn to go back. Your eyes trace over them. In the hand of the one closest to you sits your wanted poster.

Something blooms inside you again— it's a much more pleasant feeling than the unmoving sap of ire that's been invading lately. Each man before you is physically bigger, towering over you ominously and shadows eating you but they all have swords and guns in their hands and that's why they lose. You, to the detriment of all life around you, are a weapon in and of itself; you choke out the vitality from others and steal their nutrients. They strained against their confines as their skin blossoms through shades of blooms, you are not the merciful rubber of a human, so your constraints don't relent, they squeeze and squeeze until the bark splits apart, until blood is cut off at the source, until they wither, until you are full.

On the way back, you buy a gift for everyone with the money you hadn't used and when they take to it, all in their varying degrees of joy, you feel less bad about the dead end alley full of brothers and sons. You tell yourself, handing Zoro a gift of alcohol, if not them, then it'd have been you.

You end up staying anchored to the island for a week to your displeasure. The longer you're stuck there, the closer you are to exploding; you always keep an eye out on the log pose strapped to Nami's wrist like you could quicken the process if you stare enough. Usopp starts avoiding you out of fear you'll blow like a poorly constructed cannon, Zoro makes you train with him to see if it'll help blow off some steam, Sanji brings you iced drinks at a rate that keeps you dizzy but you always feed it to Luffy or redirect it to Chopper's or Usopp's office with a little note.

On the third day, you follow in Zoro's example and sprawl out on the deck to rest your tireless mind. You've always wondered how sleep was ever a possible option for him when the feet thundering across the deck came with obstructive vibrations, no doubt slapping any chance of sleep away from his mind, but you find that it's almost pleasant. Beats all from familiar loves translates through the groves of wooden planks and etch through the back of your spine, you feel a bone fall back into place after Nami's heels against the floor and the thunderous kick that lands where Zoro was standing manages to work its way up your head to ease a headache.

The sun burns cries into your eyes and the skies move fluidly, they don't ripple as clouds shrivel against a light blue you're unfamiliar with; even as you close your eyes, you continue to feel the burn of the sun. The slapping of weaved straw against a sticky, sweaty sole then the deck comes as you slip into sleep.

Dreams have never been so amicable enough to become a recurrent in your life; more often than not, you're shown memories all blended together into a mess that leaves you sick, the abhorrent now and the nostalgic then bleeding past their confines until you see your mother stood next to that deceitful Marine admiral, both with that same look in their face. You wake up with a start when a loud bang scours its way through a flurry images you're unfamiliar with and then your body escapes you. Your head weighs with the heaviness of the bodies dropped to the floor, arms cold as if dipped into the river Styx, bones locked in place with a restrictive pain, muscles burning, aware of every breath that shivers through your suddenly odd body.

"Owww," three Luffys blur around each other as you pushed a hand to the floor to straighten up, you try blinking away the other two, but they're glued to the captain reflecting in your eyes; he looks down at what he's tripped on and follows it back to you. Your hand is met with something curved in shape when you go to push yourself up and when you look down, you see vines underneath you. You realise then that a burst of them had grown beneath you, splitting through the lawn deck and uplifting some of the planks underneath the greenery and inching upwards towards the guard rails of the ship. They take the form of something you think you met in your most recent sleep.

Luffy has managed to crawl his way towards you in the time you spend wondering why your devil fruit had been acting up— in your sleep no less and he wraps a hand around your ankle to get your attention. "Hey, you're really cold." He pointed out, eyes flickering down to the flesh between his fingers and then trailing his fingers up your thigh as he shifts closer to you on his knees.

The touch makes you violent and tender. "Really?" You managed to puff out, giving too much air back to the world with how much you're panting, "I feel a little warm though."

Luffy hums, clapping his hand over your cheeks with gentleness he only shows to those he loves, and it feels wrong. You get an itch underneath your skin that urges you to move, move, move but you can only push Luffy away with a ferocity he'd never shown you as you tremble under the bursting of violent air hacking up your throat, your shoulders strain as you wrapped your arms around your stomach, trying to heave out something that wasn't there.

Luffy scrambles back immediately, not caring for you shoving him away, and soothes away the rattling of your core with his clammy hands on your arm. "Are you sick?"

No, you think as a retch comes up your mouth; maybe, you correct as the path is marked by drool slipping down your chin and tears streaking across your cheeks. You shake away Luffy again. He's less submissive this time, his legs open over yours to plant his knees by your thighs. You hear him call for Chopper and it's obvious he has something of a frown marked on his face; you keep burning beneath your skin, but Luffy keeps rubbing his palms over your arms like you're cold.

You realise what your vines had drawn underneath you when Chopper comes out, fretting over you as he takes Luffy's place close to you. A grave. The image makes you laugh as the reindeer instructs his captain to haul you up after you'd ignored his inquires on if you could walk; your arm bends around the shape of Luffy's shoulder and your laughter erratically convulses into a collection of coughs from the skin on skin high.

You forced into bed rest after Chopper does a preliminary round of tests on you and declares you've simply gone down with a cold. You take to the diagnosis apprehensively, though in Chopper's defence, how was he meant to accurately diagnose you if you don't tell him all your symptoms? Instead, you sit in his office and spend the minutes, all alone, trying to retch out the feeling of having a piece of hair down your throat; you claw at the blanket and keep hacking until you've got a blanket full of tears and spit. The feeling does not pass.

At lunch, you get a visit from Franky who comes by to complain that you've made unnecessary work for him. "—seriously, how did you manage that in your sleep? Were you having a nightmare?" He ranted, legs crossed and leaned back in the visitor chair in a way that pushes his skinny, hairy legs close to your face.

Scrunching up your face, you sit up. "It was the future." You rebut, in between all his fantastical stories of his nightmares and talking about how he'd never attack Sunny even if Chopper grew a mechanical, giant arm and overthrew Luffy to become their captain. "A future," you correct yourself before turning to Franky with eyes judgemental, "are you scared of Chopper?"

"You weren't there at Enies Lobby," he tells you, which serves as a cruel reminder of sorts. You think about all the scars you've seen littered on the crew's skin and wonder which ones they've collected while they were with Luffy and who knows of which. The faint, protruding marks underneath Nami's tattoo, the stitches around Zoro's ankles, the ones pulled across his chest; you wonder if Sanji's got one hidden underneath his bangs. "The future?" Franky repeats after a moment, "are you a prophet?"

"It's a working theory," you brush off instead. "Though I can see in my mind's eye that Luffy is currently eating all the food and you’ll be left to starve if you don't go back."

Franky scrambled up from the seat not a second after your words.

With him gone, you settle back onto the bed and wonder about too many things to recall.

Between the hours after lunch and before dinner, Luffy comes by. He settles himself on the bed and forces you up as well, the shifting causes another cough to burgeon in your throat and you turn your head the other way to spit it out in an uncontrolled group of four. "You're not feeling better?" He frowns.

You see now that he's holding two pieces of barbequed meat in his hand, he's got the bone in his palm as he holds it upright like a sword, juices from the flesh dripping down to his hand and the smell gives you a headache. "Do you want this?" You move your eyes to Luffy, he's got his eyebrows furrowed together and his lips straightened out in a line when you don't answer. "Both?" He looks over at you, then the meat, and then you. "You," he swallows, "you can have them," his knuckles turn red around the bone, "since you need energy and you're sick." You think he's trying to convince himself to give them up.

You reached out and watch Luffy's face turn sour as his expression squeezes altogether around a midpoint trapped in his nose; you retract your hand and watch his face relax and his body unwind, you think he's moved his hand back a little. You repeat it again a few more times until laughter comes up and dislodges the uncomfortable feel of hair set deep in your throat. "It's fine, Luffy, you can have 'em."

"Really?"

"Mhm, go for it."

He moans around a bite of meat, crying your name as he chews and says thank you. The feeling is back as soon as it left.

No one comes to visit after that. Chopper comes by before he heads off to bed to make sure you're all set for the night and tells you that he expects to be woken up if you feel any symptoms get worse. You agree to his conditions, though can barely make yourself seem like you were taking him seriously with his cute face scolding you, but it seemed to work well enough as he's gone after he leaves a cup of water by your side. Sleep lingers around the corner, shirking away from your twitching fingertips and restless eyes; you give up after a few minutes, thinking about Robin who'd been thrown on watch tonight.

After going back and forth on the details, you bundle up yourself in the blanket (not wanting to have to mimic any semblance of serious guilt to get through Chopper's less than intimidating scolding if you get any sicker in the morning) and wander to the deck. The darkness of the sea would be safe for you, twisting around every limb extended to grope your way through your chosen path and oozing out from strands of hair to empty at your feet if not for the lamp of the moon ahead of you. Its light a forecast of tragedy, reflecting off a blade that would drive through the blood of a man who faced an unlikely love with only disgust and betrayal. "Robin?" The light hangs onto your word with a vehemence to uncover your unjustifiable deeds.

"Ivy," a shudder of surprise rattles your head to duck to your shoulders as you turn around. "Sorry, did I scare you?"

You give Robin a frown, tugging your lips down. "Yeah, my weakened bones nearly fell to the floor." She huffs a laugh. "Please announce yourself before you appear." Robin traces over your palish face and your features soften into a smile when your eyes meet.

"Can't sleep?" She asks once you two settle at the side of the Sunny where you'd napped earlier today, some of your vines still wedged between planks and parts of the floor haphazardly missing. You lean your back against the side of the ship and lower your eyes to the floor.

It's a total void, welcoming you back home. "No," you answer, a little breathless. The moon doesn't shuttle into the hole of the deck and something reaches a hand out for you between the atoms of a black hole. Roots twist out, easing close to your feet and sinking beneath the soles of your shoes. "I napped a little earlier." It's safe.

Robin hummed— I know rattles through her hum— and her elbow falls onto the guard rail of the ship. For the next few moments, you regret coming out. Robin's always been more receptive to the details and fine lines; it's not surprising that she can nitpick through a flurry of fronts and covers to the feelings you want to hide. They beckon out to her, wanting to fill that hole that's grown smaller with every day she wakes up to the open seas and the lively sound of her crew. "Chopper said you were sick?"

"A cold," you sniffle, bringing the blanket closer to you. Finding some semblance of confidence inside you, your eyes flicker over to Robin but she isn't looking at you— only turns when she feels your gaze levelled on her. You hesitate, searching for something to say and land on extending an arm and opening the blanket to invite her into your bundle. "You cold?"

She laughs, "it's fine, you should go back in if you've got a cold though." Her head tilted with a smile, "it'll be bad if the night air makes you worse."

Not wanting to find yourself softened in moonlight nor her eyes, you nod and bid her a goodnight before shivering your way back into your room. The door opens and light from Sunny's hallway is swallowed into the darkness of your room before it's banished out with the slam of your door, you shuffle around odd things thrown on the floor and slip into bed.

Your sleep is broken through with intervals with coughing, curling into yourself, shivering still though you burn in the night like a sibling of a star. When you wake up, sometime in the afternoon, you're heaving and reaching out your arms all around your duvet to haul together the skin that feels like it's melted down. Your palms prick against the leaves of vines that have overtaken your room, they fluoresce around your body and branch outwards to all corners of your room. The mess all blur together as your brain thrashes in your head with every splutter, you shake and twitch, trying to make sense of anything. Skin burned raw as you attempt to kick away the shrubbery that's keeping the blanket contorted around your body.

Your throat skinned and crude with its imminent thoughts of water.

A hand reached back blindly to grope at your bedside table for the cup that Chopper left for you last night. What you find instead is the burning touch of the sun, it seeps through the micro wounds stabbed through lines of your fortune and inflames every nerve straight to your heart. Your hand snaps back towards your body, the bones shivering from the imminent heat. Your entire body twitches at different paces, an invasive and hungry need drowns your senses. You need water, you need not for this to happen, water, you need for your sleep to be calm, you need to stop burning, you want to stop losing control, water first. You want water. Water— you turn your head to find the water, you need— Luffy?

Luffy is sat on a chair that you don't remember being there and when you look a little closer, you see that your vines had granted him a throne to comfortably lay on, other than that, they avoid him like the near plague. His body is leaned forward, his chest laid against the side of your mattress and arms crossed on your bed to sleep on like a pillow. You retch up some acid and, like the bowed head of a priest, a gentle petal disrupts the stream, flowing against the tide. It's a beautiful purple colour that's light against the transition to white towards the middle and an eye-catching yellow streaking against the white; lines of a deeper hue stretch through the petal and it's oddly reminiscent of veins.

The petal sits on the puddle of stomach acid that warms your thighs, your head bowed down to stare at it; you feel your soul unfurl at the sight of it, branches stretched outwards over a riverside, the heavy head of buds pulling weighted branches down to drink from the stream. Everything else blurs with a ripple, the petal is withstanding no matter no much you try blinking away an oncoming headache. The river near dries up in your attempt to wash down this unnerving disgust; you hunger for more.

Little changes when you find out what this 'cold' truly was. The lighting in Sunny's library is several shades warmer than the light of the sun, it draws upon the hunched shoulders down to your back as you tilt your head to hear the bones crack under your ear. Four syllables, that's all your death is. A lot of words are four syllables. Anonymous; unfortunate; hilarious; adventurous; hanahaki. It doesn't mean a lot by itself, so you try giving it some context. You pretend to tell Chopper that you're dying, you have hanahaki and that it's something he can't cure in a way you'll accept and you still feel nothing. You think about Chopper's face. He adamantly tells you that he'll cure you, he'll do it. The you in your imagination tells him no. Faced with your refusal, Chopper cannot do anything. In the end, it is a grave that cures you.

Death, as it stands, was something you had accepted when you stepped onto a pirate ship. Even someone with as stubborn a character as Zoro could be welcomed in by death, even Luffy. For a while, you wonder about death. The air in the room pauses as if to grace you with the silence to ponder on it, all you hear is the sound of your own breathing.

The closest thing to death comes searching for you a few minutes later.

You've always been interested in Brook. A skeleton with nothing but a sword; he has no lungs yet still sings, no heart and still smiles, dead but human in all his actions and behaviours. "There you are." He sneaks up behind you, bones falling onto your shoulder as you think, he smiles down at you. "Luffy asked if I’d seen you earlier.” He looms over you for a moment before he's straightening back up and calling out loudly, "but I'm a skeleton so it's not like I have eyes to see anyone anyways!"

It's the two syllables 'Lu–ffy' that shakes you the most. You stifle a cough in your chest and feel it tear through your ribs instead, searching for a path out. "For what?" The breaths rattle in your chest and shudder through your words.

"He wanted to show you a beetle." He takes the seat next to you, peering down at the picture book that you have open. You wait for him to make a comment about seeing what you were reading before disregarding it all with a lack of eyeballs so he wasn't seeing it really but he doesn't say anything, so you're forced to talk instead.

"Brook."

"Yes?"

It takes a single breath to prepare you to say this, it's warm and evident that you've not yet truly succumbed to your illness. "Do you see yourself as dead?"

Death is the art of those who do not live. It's something that keeps people tethered to the moment; it's the one thing that keeps humans humane. It's evidence you've lived, no matter how full nor how long. She's beautiful in her own right.

"I cannot see myself as anything because I am a skeleton with no eyes!"

Brook does not get to elaborate because Luffy shuttles in moments later, whispering loudly. (He'd learned somewhere that you're meant to be quiet in a library when he was younger but his whispers still manage to shake the room somehow.) "You're here! I found a beetle to show you!" He tip–toes to your side, "what're you reading— oh, hi Brook! The flowers here are pretty!" He points a finger down to a sunflower; his index covers an entire petal and he strokes it upwards to the middle. "Do you think they're edible?"

He turns to you with a smile.

You meet him with the same, "their seeds are." He gasps and picks up the book to scour through the letters in search of a name of these seeds. You take in a shuddering breath and when you feel another urge to cough, you cannot stop it.

When vines splatter around the room, they uproot the place; they've always been disruptive in this way. A wave of them washes various bouts of furniture to the floor, through the pounding of your ears, you hear the sound of books thudding as green appendages snake through bookcases and rattle them at the base; Brook's chair collapses as a vine chokes out one of its legs into splinters, the world blurs into a hue of greens and purples. A hand reaches from down in your throat, you heave around gaps of allowance for air and gag, cough, retch up more acid and some tea that Sanji brewed earlier this morning in lieu of breakfast. It's unpleasant. It's ugly in a way death should not be, though you guess the dead don't get to choose how to live in the same way the living cannot choose their death.

You're hauled off to Chopper again.

Chopper's voice comes as the hollow sounds of keys on an old piano. He does another round of tests on you— this set lasts a little longer than the previous and he takes extra caution with some. He finds that your heart is a little faster than it should be, he nitpicks at the bluish tint around your fingers and notes the concerning amount of weight you've lost in the past few weeks. When he asks you, what's wrong, you tell him that that's what he should be telling you.

Hypoxia; another four syllables for your cause of death. "Some of the symptoms are there," Chopper frowns, mumbling to himself. "It's when your tissues aren't getting enough oxygen, do you have difficulty breathing?"

You placed your cheek into your palm, elbow on Chopper's desk. "You're a pretty good doctor, Chopper."

The effect is immediate, he starts blushing and kicking his legs in his seat, a hoof goes to rub at the back of his head and nervous laughter comes from him. "That isn't distracting me at all, you bastard." You smiled and watched the compliment break any semblance of professionalism in him.

He gets back on track a little while later, placing a stethoscope on your chest and asking you to cough. You're not sure exactly what he's looking for but you give a soft cough into your elbow and you can say for certain— just based off the way he jumps back and looks at you a little quietly for a second, it's nothing good. Chopper spends a few minutes looking at your fingertips, then your lips, then some other parts of skin already exposed and humming to himself, troubled.

For now, he says, he wants you to try not to exert yourself— maybe leave fighting to everyone else and focus on resting until he can figure out a better way to confidently diagnose you. His lips are pulled into a frown, hands in his lap and trying his best to be professional and keep his emotions at bay. Before you know it, your hand is on top of his pink hat and fondly rubbing over the material softly. "Thanks Chopper, I'll keep that in mind."

He nods. You hesitate for a second before you're getting up to leave so that everyone else can see that you're not dying— or maybe you should tell them you are, you're not sure you could take another session of Franky accusing you of destroying the Sunny to create more work for him.

Your hand wraps around the doorknob and twists, stopping when Chopper speaks again. "You're not hiding something from me," he accuses gently, "are you?"

Your hand tightens around the doorknob. A flash of that imaginary Chopper comes back to you— heartbroken and confused at your refusal to be cured— you steal an unnecessarily large breath from the world. "I get sudden cravings for sweet things if that means anything."

Chopper, unbeknownst to you, takes those words and carves them true and raw into himself. His eyes are unwilling to leave you for more than necessary during the times you eat together, he watches you push aside the food on your plate, tearing small bits of meat off the bone to chew on it for a couple minutes too long before swallowing. He makes note of the way you have no problems finishing up everything but any sort of meat, sliding them over to Luffy, or one of his victims.

You're met with another blossom soon after lunch. You've made a bad habit of leaving the table early to escape the smell and resign yourself to the open deck, sprawling out on the grass like Zoro usually does. You're certain you're about to fall asleep shivering but the slap, slap, slapping of your captain's sandals are nearing closer so your brain kicks awake with a start; your eyes twitch, eyelashes shuddering in the wind. The darkness over your eyes morphs into a shadow of Luffy hovering over you, head tilting with a hand on his hat— your mind supplies you with the frown— and then you hear him taking a step back and sitting down next to you.

A troubled melody hums through his lips and when you open an eye to peek at him, you see his hands wrapped around his ankles, legs loosely crossed; he turned back to you and you quickly close your eyes. Here is where you finally learn that when Luffy touches, he's never placated with a simple tap, a light knocking between skin— no, he must stroke, he drags his fingers up the side of your thigh, he shivers from the coldness of your flesh and, even then, crawls closer. Then he's silent for a worrying amount of time and for a moment, curiosity takes you over. You find yourself wanting to draw light upon the disgusted features when he's met with someone he thinks close to him is growing closer and closer to a grave amongst the roots.

He leans his forehead against yours whilst you shuffle through the despicable crawl of your heart through your bones, something shifts in you and when you reach to itch at your side, it dislodges. It takes no more than a simple flip for your entire world to shift; you think you saw Luffy hovering over you momentarily before you had snapped to the side.

A fragment of the world greets its end.

Something strangles you, a hand of a giant pressing two fingers against the sides of your neck until everything in you bursts and splatters against parts that have gone unknown until now. There's nothing new to the tremor of vine that erupts through your skin, bubbling through the surface of flesh like a geyser; the tentacles claw their way your throat until you're choking around them, searching for an allowance for air. Your knees shuffle up to find some balance, head ducked to meet the lawn across the deck and elbows digging deep into the dirt. Your spluttering comes in time with the sound of Luffy calling your name, shouting for Chopper; there's a knot tied inside your mouth, you shake away tremors and tears all the same. You erupt yet there's nothing to be burnt, it's only ash that leaves your mouth— only the colourful petals of the wisteria plant that wash over the green of the open deck, burnt in hues with blood.

The next island is a spring island, known for their sweet peaches and sweeter music.

You watched Luffy devour two peaches in his hands, the ripe skin melting underneath his teeth— pale with a dusted blush until it snapped into a bloody red, melted at the pit. Then he's gone with a rustle of mikan trees as you held out a basket for Nami to delicately place her mikans in; apparently, she'd managed to catch the attention of some peach vendor with her sweet tangerines and swindled the poor man out of his money for a basket.

The streets are lined with lively hums and a strumming of odd instruments, music escapes through every crevice of a worn-down building as Luffy jumps from stall to stall, drooling over the goods before you're beckoning him back with his lunchbox and a promise of meat after you finish this errand for Nami. On your way to the stall, you hear faint chattering that doesn't interest you but Luffy straightened up beside you and turns to stare at the people as they argue on who had managed to grow the biggest peach this year.

You sigh, grabbing hold of Luffy's collar when he stops to stare at them and drag him off to the stall vendor who had fallen victim to Nami's schemes. The exchange is easy enough— give him the basket (ignore the fact that Nami had managed to make it look like it was overflowing by artfully bunching up a cloth on the bottom and filled gaps between the fruits with flowers) and make sure you've got the correct amount of money. It's when Luffy asks the stall vendor who has the biggest peach this year that things begin to go downhill.

Rather than answering Luffy's question, the man goes on a tangent about some kind of festival for a God and how the biggest peach will be the offering to said God this year— apparently, Shumi (the woman who owns the fabrics shops) had managed to get her hands on this, that, or the other to help her husband grow a peach large enough to bring doubt to the fact that Gyupuri had managed to grow the largest peach (again) this year.

Luffy insists on tracking them both down to help the people come to a decision as he wiped away the drool on his chin. Resigned, you managed to find Shumi first with her shop being the only one in town that sold fabrics and she denies you both permission to see the peach; Gyupuri, on the other hand, is more than happy to show you to the peach he grows. He takes you straight out of town, into the forest, and then up the mountain to where there's a clearing full of nothing but flesh coloured peaches.

As you listen to Gyupuri's story on how he was merely taking after his father to grow these strangely sized peaches, you have to keep Luffy in your hold so he doesn't go running to the giant peach and take a bite out of what could be for a God. Somehow though, he manages to get a handful of flat peaches when you weren't looking and when you attempt to apologise to Gyupuri, he doesn't seem to be fazed, shoving a few more peaches into your hand and telling you it's fine.

"So, who is this God anyway?" Luffy asks, his legs wrapped around your waist and chin hooked on your shoulder as he leaned back, satisfied with cheeks full of the peach you were holding in your hand. You turn to give him a look, but he merely stares at you back.

The people here must have made a unanimous decision to answer questions from the left side of the field because Gyupuri only tells you the name of this God when he drags you and Luffy up a hill to stare at a statue of this God carved out of generic stone.

To be polite, you call the statue pretty; Luffy feels no need to be polite, so he says it's not really. When you look at him to furrow your eyebrows at him, he's already looking at you.

When you're back on the ship, money handed to Nami, you think about that moment so much that it grows moss in your mind and vines burst through the crevices of the worn–down artifact you've made out his gaze to be. You throw up everything you manage to eat and feel hollow and worthy when you meet Luffy's eyes in Chopper's office again.

There's a chill that follows your days after that.

It's persistent and stubborn in a way that cruelly reminds you of Luffy. On a brighter side, you've got an excuse to be lazy in bed though it irks your bones not to have the weight of you walking thrumming up your body. You get visits from the Strawhats, get your food delivered to you, some of the crew shuffling into your room to keep you entertained with some card games and the likes— you get Luffy consistently making his way into your room and treating it as any other room on his Sunny. He comes in, always makes himself home on the bed, and talks about what he did today. At some point, it becomes less endearing and more annoying to be treated as though you were actually dying. (You hadn't told them for a reason.)

Four days after Chopper had resolutely punished you with bed rest, Luffy decides that he was going to start sleeping in your room. Apparently, your face had translated over what your head was thinking too quickly because he starts whining, saying that he wouldn't get to see you enough if he doesn't do this and, well, since you've always had a tender, raw, skinned soft spot for the boy, you end up saying yes.

He spends his first night telling you what he was going to spend tomorrow doing and you come to the realisation that every other sentence contains you. (Going to find more beetles to show you... Chopper told Sanji it'd be good to get more meat into your diet... Zoro accidentally cut snakes and ladders in half so Nami is giving me money to see if we can find one for you so we can play... Robin said there's a really pretty flower on this next island… For you… For you...) It’s all there laid bare and you cannot face it. You hide your face into the crook of your elbow and wretch out a cough. Luffy frowns but doesn't mention it. He talks himself into sleep and you lay awake to him, trying to keep yourself from blooming throughout the night so he doesn't wake up, cold and still.

When you're startled awake with misty embrace in a dream, you see that Luffy has gone.

What he has left is his straw hat and a mouthpiece of his greatness. The straw is rough against your fingers, resembling the thorns that grows along roses and you stare at it in your lap until you can feel the roughness in your throat— just when you think you need to get water, Sanji shows up with breakfast. You eye the cigarette in his lips and ignore the settling of the tray on your bedside table, watch the smoke fight the smell of scrambled eggs and bits of bacon to take over your room.

"We're at an island?"

Sanji walks around your bed, finding himself comfortable on the couch across the foot of your bed. "We docked early this morning," you watched his smoke rise, ash falling to the wooden floor of your room, waving and grasping hands up to God. Sanji keeps himself entertained by looking around your room, his foot pushing around odd leaves and petals on the floor before he nods over to the plate. "Eat." Then he's gone.

You stare at the tray, settling Luffy's straw hat aside, you shuffle to the end of your bed and take the fork in your hands— you look at the plate until you swear you can taste the eggs in your mouth and the slight bursts of saltiness that'll come from the bacon and you have to wash it down with the glass of water he's given you. You push it aside and opt to go back to sleep.

You dream of a still life on top of a hill, overlooking a dock as the Sunny pulls back out into the sea; you thrash but find every part of you rooted down to one spot, the wind picks up and you feel tangles of what could be hair or leaves hitting against a part of your body. You're still rooted despairingly in a garden of silks and duvets when you wake, Luffy had found himself unable to keep away from your breakfast but when you sit up and look a little closer, you see a pile of the diced bacon bits shoved off to the side as he shovelled eggs into his mouth.

Shattering free from the earth with a faltering cough broken into four, you shuffled yourself up and spit out a cluster of wisteria. At this point, you do not need to look at Luffy to know what his face looks like; he turned to face you, cheeks full and quickly finishing the eggs to shuffle closer to you on the bed with a book in his hands. "You left your book under the plate."

It's a hardback children's book, pulled out of Sunny's library and coloured a light blue that resembled the sky and broken apart by a sunflower in the middle and petals around it, the title curled around the sunflower. You know that the book was left in the library when you were having your episode. The cover is smooth to the touch as Luffy gives it to you and ends up knocking his shoulders against yours in his attempt to get closer; your eyes moved over to the tray of food and you think of Sanji, who'd grown up in the North Blue where this children's story was more popular amongst the romantic commonwealth.

He knows, you think, and it fills you with a dread that the wisteria blossoms feast upon delightfully; he knows, and he could tell everyone, the vines throb over your heart as Luffy opens the book over your lap and looks up, expectantly at you.

Myrsa was a pretty girl, enough so that praises sang for her ended up calling upon the scorn of love's Goddess. The depiction of her getting cursed is almost comical, stricken by lightning as she returns from a forest with a basket full of flowers and mushrooms. "What happens next? What happens next?" Luffy pushes his face closer to the book, tangling a rubbery leg with yours as he moves impossibly closer. "How does Myrsa beat up the God?"

It's the certainty he holds that Myrsa will beat up God that makes you laugh, it's the fact that she does not beat anything that makes you tremble, shaking coughs and petals out your throat. Luffy seems to think that the book is too excitable, trying to pry it away from you and saying that he can ask Robin to read it to him later so you should just rest. "Don't you want to know if Myrsa will beat up the God now?" You ask instead, knowing the answer will be yes.

Perhaps they were the wrong words to convince Luffy because when you're on the last page, Myrsa buried in a forgotten land and her love used as fertiliser for a field of sunflowers, he's threatening to beat up a God made up to exact revenge for Myrsa. It's a lot more cheerful than you had expected— all the characters drawn with round faces, small bodies, and black dots as eyes. It makes death seem redeemable.

After Luffy hauls himself out of your room, in search of the God had turned Myrsa into sunflowers, you force the bacon down your mouth and bring the tray out to Sanji. You linger in the kitchen, eyes watching him as he scrubbed the dishes and danced around the kitchen, no doubt knowing why you were there. He doesn't seem to want to be the one to approach the topic just based on the way he refused to stop even for a moment for the past fifteen minutes you've been there.

You know nothing about Sanji past the fact that he's blond, he's a cook, and he used to be a prince from North Blue's Germa Kingdom.

"You know Myrsa didn't die because she had hanahaki." Your hip meets the edge of an island, arms crossed over your chest as you watched Sanji finally slow to a halt, throwing a glance over at you. He takes his cigarette between two fingers, breathing in for a moment and then takes it out, holding it out to you. "What she was cursed with, wasn't ever meant to be able to kill her."

"I know."

Sanji takes the cigarette back after you shake your head, shrugging a little as he continued. "Myrsa died."

You laugh a little, "I read the book."

There's a point he's trying to make that's as foreign to you as the notion of a love that doesn't hurt but he turns a glance to you that almost reads like he's disappointed in you and it settles nicely against the vines choking you through. You straighten up, uncrossing your arms and his visible eye wanders back over the pots he has boiling on the stove. "You liked the ending?" The ending of the North Blue story was a two–page spread of a sunflower field, a planet of bright yellows and a dull light blue, clouds breaking apart overwhelming tones of sunny golds and drowning diamonds.

A tree split awkwardly in half due to the spine of the book, curved in shape and pinched in the middle until you held the pages at the edges and pulled to straighten in down. "It was pretty," a gentle breeze running through the leaves shedding from the tree, a shiver to the wooden flesh that split apart if looked at the right way by the right man. Myrsa was beautiful, even in a death she didn't pick treated her well.

How could you hope to live when she did not?

You find a lot of things pretty now; you wonder if that's the dead crawling in you that is beginning to appreciate the life around. Robin sat on the deck with a cup of cooling coffee on a table in front of her and a book in her hand, Nami stood between her rows of mikan trees, Zoro straining under the weights of his responsibilities, Brook with a violin to his shoulder. The sky drowned over the ocean as Luffy leaned his head against you on Sunny's figurehead, his voice a soft beat over the water rushing against the hull of the ship. He's talking about Shanks and his dream and your heart aches selfishly; his skin gulps down the orange light of the dawning sun and you resigned yourself to a death loving him.

You wonder if Luffy still thinks of his dead brother, your tongue slips against the bark of your gums, and you open your mouth without thinking. "Luffy," you hear spoken into the wind, "will you tell me about your brother?"

"Sabo?" He's clapping his feet together excitedly, turning from the sky to you with a large grin on his face, "he's a part of the Revelation Army— no, wait revocation? Revenge Army? Renovation Army! Wait— that's not right."

"No, the other one." A whisper haunts the wind, 'the dead one' written in its movement.

There's a certain hesitation to his words that brings you to the realisation that being loved by Luffy is a wonderful thing. He's never been one to be articulate with words, picking the simple ones that come to mind first without a moment's hesitation but strangely the simple–minded way served him well when it came to love. Love is not articulate either— it's one of the simplest things in the world— so when it's met with someone like Luffy, it blossoms into an art form of all things beautiful.

You regret have not meeting Luffy when Ace was around. Dancing around his features is a tender skip of tightness; his shoulders pulled up to his ears, head ducked down, lips awkward and tongue thick as he told you the story of being accepted to be Ace's brother. Hues of embers fluoresce, dripping down on Sunny's figurehead as you reached an arm around him; his words are stained in blood and adoration, strained and slow but Luffy persists, his love persists.

"You should've met him!" He finishes, turning to you with a light chuckle. "You would've loved him."

Your hand falls onto his shoulder, pulling him closer despite the crawl of vomit up your throat and you leaned your head against his straw hat. "Maybe I will."

Death is another thing you think is simple. It's as easy as slipping into Chopper's office to find him hunched over his desk, his hooves holding onto a pestle as he circled the butt around in a mortar. "Ah, you're here?" He glanced over his shoulder as you walked around him and settled onto one of the beds he has in his room. "Give me a second! I nearly have your medicine ready."

"Chopper," you think you've played this out in your head before, "I have hanahaki."

His arms slow down to a halt, his face dropping by several degrees; the previous petals that made up his hopeful and cheerful expression flutter to the floor, guided by the winds you'd altered with those four words.

"Hanahaki?" Chopper's words are slow as he settled the pestle down, "I thought— but it doesn't exist?"

"Funnily enough, it died off." You tell him with a little laugh. "As more people took to the seas and chased after the one piece, less people fell victim to hanahaki." The Chopper you've told this to before in your mind was definitely less devastated and surprised to be greeted by the fact that you have hanahaki.

He's stumbling over his words, trying to pick something to focus on first as his face was scrunched up, eyebrows furrowed, and lips open into disbelief. "How long have you known? Why didn't you tell me? You'll have the surgery, right? You can trust me; I'll definitely save you. When did it first start?" Your head is pounding with the incessant questions he spits at you, unable to answer any of them as any allowance for a response was filled in by another inquiry. Suddenly, he's pulling his mind to a stop as he turned back to you, solemn and sad and asks, "who is it?"

It's easy to tell how Luffy has touched people, Chopper makes note of the way your head tilts and you smile and it's obvious that there was no one else capable of calling upon your love.

"And the surgery?"

The look on your face, although foreign to you, tells him all he needs to know.

That doesn't stop him though, he keeps himself by your side and urges (pleads) you to have the surgery; his constant presence becomes a problem when he makes a point of forcing Luffy away from you. It's small at first, trying to distract Luffy with other things, claiming to want to be the one to watch over Luffy when you all dock so you're not given the chance, clinging onto your arms and demanding your attention when Luffy threatens to take it away from him. Then, when Luffy notices that he's been holding onto this flower for hours, fingers pinched around a sunflower stem to ask you how you get seeds from the flower to eat, and every time he's seen a speck of your colour from corners, Chopper shows up to drag you away or points a finger somewhere to shout about a meat mountain, he has a problem.

You notice it's about the meat mountain at first though.

He's slamming the door to Chopper's office after the fourth time, shouting, "Chopper! Where's the meat mountain you keep talking about?" He doesn't seem to care about the fact that Chopper is checking up on you as he stomps into the room, plopping himself down right next to you. Chopper pushes him away when your shoulders brush against each other and you're coughing out bloodied petals. His attention diverts when he hears the shaking of your cough, how you knock into him uncontrollably as your torso leans to meet your thighs, hands deep into the foam edge of the mattress. Petals splatter onto your shoes, clinging to the leather with saliva and re–painting the laces in a sickly red. Luffy’s touch is intrusive, a hand tightened on your thigh that burns your skin to ash and forces vines to splutter out your skin. They attack him, you reel yourself away from Luffy in hopes that they don’t reach him but in some disgusting way, they force themselves to new lengths to coil around his limbs. Spindling up and up and up and you can’t see his face anymore as a thick rope of vines in the shape of his hand reaches out for you, they keep moving up until you only see his hat— your back knocks against the wall. You sternly tell yourself this death is acceptable; the vines grow limp.

When you’ve calmed down enough, the first thing Luffy asks you is, “why aren’t you better yet?” And you feel as though you’re being scolded for some reason; your eyes flicker over to Chopper, fingers tangled together in front of your thighs from the corner of the room you’ve forced yourself into. When Luffy catches the wandering glances— as if you’re trying to keep him out of something— he treats you exactly how you’re acting. Like a criminal.

“Chopper?” It’s unnerving how his eyes are still on you, no trace of expression on his face, “out.”

“But—”

“Out.” Chopper throws you an unhelpful glance as he passes you to get to the door.

You’ve always had the wrong impression of Luffy— everyone that doesn’t know him has the same image; he’s a pirate that has taken down warlord after warlord, who has brought horrifying change and shifts the balance of authority wherever his feet take him. Hearing hushed whispers of him and his close affiliates in the lightened haze of booze, to distract from a tooth getting knocked out of place never does much for his image either. Though it wouldn’t be right to say that Luffy is wholly good either— he’s selfish. Selfish and impossibly kind and downright disgusting with the handling of his own needs; the sound of your name fizzing between his teeth has you startled, nodding your head back to him on the bed you’d left him at.

“You’re hiding something.” It’s not a question nor is it an accusation of any kind. It’s an observation. Luffy slides himself off the bed, his sandals comically slap against the floor of Chopper’s office, “tell me.” His hands fall onto your shoulders, one stays there and the other slides down. He treats your skin like an amusement park for his pleasure; his nails drag across the goosebumps of your bicep, pressing down on raised scars and then splashes into the palm of your hand, dragging ripples in the centre.

You hesitate, twisting your fingers together and pulling as if to attempt to dislodge the odd feeling that follows his fingertips. “Are you asking as a captain?” Despite how general expectations of Luffy remain pretty low to those who do know him, it’s also known that Luffy has a nerve in him that’s impossibly receptive to hurt. There’s a certain way to activate it and when it’s on, it doesn't quieten down until its idiot owner is pleased. Luffy scrunches his face up in an odd way, displeasured at your question as if he couldn’t believe you’d ask him something that hurtful, and his head tilts.

“Tell me.” You’re met with an unwavering stare, the hand on your shoulder tightens and there’s a hardness to it that you’ve never associated with your rubber captain— you can feel the bone in his fingers, stern and undeniable. Your eyes trace over the exposed, tanned skin of his bicep and you wish that you could force your vines through his skin to crawl into his chest and listen to the tremors that’ll run up your devil fruit from his beating heart for some kind of answer. There’s a sudden breath that’s available to you that isn’t tainted and clogged, trapped before it even meets your lungs, but it burns in a new way as you stare at Luffy, scared and terrified of a new life that’ll be forced upon you if you tell him what’s wrong with you.

You open your mouth with an excuse, but Luffy huffs and the words shrivel in your mouth, collapsing to a grain on your tongue and when you close your mouth, you taste dirt. “Luffy,” you beg, “I can’t— just, I’ll be fine.”

There’s a hint of some anger in his gaze before it turns into a haunting realisation, “Chopper knows, doesn’t he?” He pushes you aside, “I’ll just ask Chopper.”

There’s a ringing distant in your ears that chimes like the bell of the church from that place two islands ago, maybe three— you haven’t been too good with time recently. Sunny shakes like the earth as a body hits the pavement, you feel disgusting and heavy and an itch claws through your palms where Luffy’s hand has just been. You’re sure it’s Chopper he’s shaking an answer from but you hear Robin’s voice, calling for him to calm down and when that doesn’t work, Sanji cuts in. It all gets further and further away, you think about the planks of Sunny opening to welcome you back into that darkness from nights ago, you think about being choked by one of your vines, you think about the wisteria blooming whole in your lungs— you think and you think and think and suddenly, it’s all nothing. You’re dying, you think, that’s a fact, what else? Luffy is the reason. Or maybe you’re the reason.

“Luffy,” were you the one talking? “Luffy.” The voice comes again, stern and your eyebrows furrow with the same tension that the voice is carrying. “Thank you for being my captain.”

Not that it surprises you, Luffy punches you.

#op production: circa. 1864 #one piece #monkey d. luffy #one piece angst #one piece x you #one piece x reader #luffy oneshot #luffy angst #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #op luffy #monkey d. luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x you #op x reader #op angst #one piece one shot

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soberpluto · 17 days ago

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Moon Signs Ranked By How They Handle Drama

Get your Tarot/Runes/Astrology reading here!

Before we dive into the matter, let’s talk about the difference between your Sun sign and your Moon sign when it comes to handling drama. Your Sun sign reflects your outward personality, your ego, and how you present yourself to the world—this is how you might want to handle drama. But your Moon sign? That’s where the real tea is. Your Moon sign represents your emotional self, your gut reactions, and how you process your feelings—especially in stressful, dramatic situations. So, when things get messy, it’s your Moon sign that determines whether you’ll be calmly sipping your coffee or lighting a fire in response.

As always, it's impossible to determine how anything will manifest exactly because we need to look at the rest of the chart… however, this is a good starting point!

Now, let’s rank the Moon signs, from the chillest of them all to the total drama queens/kings!

😎Taurus Moon: These are emotional anchors. They’re so grounded and stable that even the biggest storm of drama won’t knock them over. If chaos is swirling around, they’re sitting there like, “Meh, I’ll deal with it later.” They’ll avoid unnecessary conflict because their emotional comfort is priority number one. Taurus Moon handles drama by not handling it—at least not until it’s absolutely necessary. It's wise to avoid provoking them though because when they finally give into anger, they literally become raging bulls.

👽Aquarius Moon: Aqua Moon responds to drama like they’re watching a documentary about it. They keep a cool, intellectual distance and would rather analyze the situation from every angle before reacting. Emotionally, they prefer to float above it all—if they don’t feel it, it doesn’t exist. The only time they get involved is if something piques their curiosity or challenges their ideals, but even then, they keep it super chill. If you manage to trigger them, however, you can expect humongous logical argumentation and zero emotional input. Be ready to be attacked with irrefutable proof of your mistakes, even if it's only in their heads.

🥱Capricorn Moon: Cap Moons approach drama like it’s a puzzle to be solved. Emotions? They’re filed away neatly so they can think logically through the chaos. When drama hits, Capricorn Moon stays calm, organized, and already has a 10-step plan to defuse the situation. Drama doesn’t rattle them, but if you mess with their sense of control or reputation, they might quietly strategize your downfall. But hey, it’s nothing personal—just business. And rest assured you'll be target number one of their bitter sarcasm.

📁Virgo Moon: These are all about emotional efficiency. They don’t love drama because it disrupts their need for order and clarity, but when it comes, they handle it like they’re cleaning up a spill—quickly, thoroughly, and with minimal fuss. They’ll quietly process their emotions and offer a solution before anyone else even realizes there’s a problem. Drama can’t last long in a Virgo Moon’s world; they’ll organize it out of existence. Expect them, however, to judge and critize you endlessly in secret after they've seen any dramatic tendencies in you.

❤️‍🩹Libra Moon: They do hate drama, but they’ll get involved if it means restoring balance. They want everyone to get along, and they’ll go to great lengths to keep the peace. Expect diplomacy, compromise, and maybe a little passive-aggressive avoidance if things get too heated. They handle drama by smoothing things over and pretending it’s not that bad, even if it’s a total mess. But deep down? It stresses them out a lot. They are good at handling conflict, but not so much at managing their emotions towards it.

😭Pisces Moon: They don’t just handle drama—they feel it on a soul level. They absorb everyone’s emotions, making it hard to tell where their feelings end and the drama begins. They’ll cry, dream, and escape into their imagination when things get too intense, but they’ll also offer deep emotional wisdom if needed. Drama drains them, but they can’t help but get caught up in the emotional tides because it's very hard for them to place boundaries around them. Just don’t expect them to confront it head-on—they’ll probably swim away instead.

👄Gemini Moon: Having the Moon in the sign of twins makes someone handle drama by talking their way through it—a lot. They process their emotions quickly, and before you know it, they’ve shared their side of the story with three different friend groups. Drama doesn’t weigh them down for long, but their curiosity might lead them to stir the pot a little just to see what happens. They love a good story, even if they have to create it themselves.

😝Sagittarius Moon: Sagittarius Moons don’t go looking for drama, but their blunt honesty tends to create it. They’ll handle it by saying exactly what’s on their mind, no sugar-coating involved. Drama may flare up because of something they’ve said, but they’ll stand by it and probably throw in a philosophical explanation about why they’re right. They move on quickly, though—they’ve got bigger things to focus on than petty arguments.

🥺Cancer Moon: Cancer Moons can't help take everything personally, so when drama hits, they’re deep in their feelings. They’ll retreat into their emotional shell, relive the situation in their head a million times, and probably cry about it. But don’t mistake their sensitivity for weakness—if pushed, they’ll lash out with a full emotional outburst. Drama can linger for Cancer Moon—they’ll hold onto it long after everyone else has moved on.

😈Scorpio Moon: This stingy Moon handles drama with intense, silent calculation. They don’t just feel emotions—they live them, and if you’ve wronged them, they’re not going to forget. They’ll wait, watch, and plot their next move in the emotional chess game. Drama with a Scorpio Moon doesn’t end with a big blow-up; it simmers beneath the surface, slowly building until they strike. When they do, it’s obsessive, intense and final.

🎭Leo Moon: Leo Moons love drama because it’s an opportunity to showcase their emotions. If there’s a spotlight, Leo Moon is stepping into it, ready to deliver an emotional performance worthy of an Oscar. They’ll take the drama personally, make it bigger than it needs to be, and then get over it just as quickly once they’ve had their moment in the sun. It’s not that they seek out drama—they just can’t resist the stage when it’s there.

🥊Aries Moon: This Martian Moon is pure fire when it comes to handling drama. They don’t sit back—they run headfirst into it, ready to confront the situation with full force. If emotions flare, expect yelling, arguing, and maybe even some impulsive actions. Aries Moon doesn’t shy away from conflict; in fact, they kind of thrive in it. They’ll burn bright, get it all out, and then move on just as quickly, leaving a trail of emotional debris in their wake.

Hope you have a little fun reading! Thanks a lot :)

Written by @soberpluto

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haberiler · 2 months ago

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GENERATOR FOR HOME - SİLVER

In today’s ever-evolving world, finding reliable and sustainable power solutions for our homes is more crucial than ever. Enter Generator for Home – your one-stop resource for exploring a range of innovative generators designed to meet your energy needs. Whether you're seeking a traditional generator or a cutting-edge solar generator, we provide comprehensive insights to help you make informed decisions. Our product offers detailed overviews and specifications, ensuring you'll know exactly what you're investing in.

Generator for Home

A generator for home use is an essential resource that provides backup power during outages, ensuring that your daily activities are not severely disrupted. Here are some key aspects to consider when selecting a generator for home use:

Types of Generators

There are various types of generators available for residential use:

Portable Generators: These are lightweight and easy to move around, perfect for powering appliances during outages.

Standby Generators: Installed permanently outside your home, these generators automatically turn on during a power outage.

Solar Generators: Utilizing renewable energy, these generators are an eco-friendly option for homeowners looking to reduce their carbon footprint.

Power Requirements

When selecting a generator, it’s crucial to determine the wattage requirements of the appliances you plan to power. Calculate the starting and running watts of each device, adding them together to choose a generator with adequate capacity.

Fuel Type

Generators can run on various fuel types, including gasoline, diesel, propane, or natural gas. Each fuel type has its benefits and limitations. Consider availability and cost when making your choice.

Noise Levels

Noise levels can be a significant factor, especially for residential use. Look for generators designed to operate quietly, which can minimize disruption to your family and neighbors.

Safety Features

Safety should always come first. Opt for generators that include features such as automatic shut-off, circuit breakers, and carbon monoxide detectors to protect you and your home from hazards.

Understanding these facets of a generator for home use can significantly enhance your ability to choose the right model that meets your needs and enhances your home's resilience to power outages.

Solar Generator for Home

When considering a reliable power source for your home, a solar generator for home me can be an excellent option. It harnesses renewable energy from the sun, providing an eco-friendly and sustainable solution to meet your electrical needs. Unlike traditional generators that rely on fossil fuels, solar generators operate quietly and require minimal maintenance, making them an attractive choice for homeowners.

Benefits of Solar Generators

Environmentally Friendly: Solar generators produce clean energy, reducing your carbon footprint and dependency on non-renewable sources.

Energy Independence: By generating your own power, you can safeguard against rising electricity costs and power outages.

Low Operating Costs: Once installed, solar generators have low ongoing costs, primarily related to maintenance and occasional battery replacements.

Portability: Many solar generators are designed to be portable, allowing you to take power with you for camping trips or outdoor activities.

Choosing the Right Solar Generator

When selecting a solar generator for your home, consider the following factors:

Power Requirements: Assess your household's energy needs by evaluating the appliances and devices you intend to power.

Capacity: Look for generators with sufficient battery capacity to provide the necessary power for your usage.

Inverter Type: Choose between pure sine wave and modified sine wave inverters based on the devices you plan to use.

Portability: If you need a generator for occasional outdoor use, ensure it is lightweight and easy to transport.

Solar Panels and Accessories

To maximize the efficiency of your solar generator, consider investing in additional solar panels or accessories. This can enhance its capacity and charging speed, making it a more versatile solution for your energy needs.

In summary, a solar generator for home purposes is not only beneficial for reducing electricity bills but also plays a critical role in promoting sustainable energy. By integrating a solar generator into your household, you can enjoy a reliable and green power source that aligns with modern energy solutions.

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literaryvein-reblogs · 2 months ago

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Writing Notes: Beginning & Ending

The first and final impressions that your story leaves upon the reader tend to remain the most memorable, so it’s paramount that you spend sufficient time evaluating the beginning and end of your draft.

Consider the following points for your beginning:

Hook

Does the first sentence grab the reader’s attention?

Does it make the reader ask questions?

Here, you want to avoid long, slow descriptions of the setting.

Disruption

Is there tension or suspense in the air?

Is trouble already brewing right from the start?

Have you established high-enough stakes?

As Kurt Vonnegut advises, ‘Start as close to the end as possible.’

Backstory

Include a minimal amount of backstory; the rule of thumb is ‘the less, the better’.

Gradually weaving in the backstory throughout your novel is far better than dumping it all down in the introduction.

Emotion

Instead of writing what you know, try writing what you feel.

Add intimate details on how your character acts or reacts to the world and people around him/her.

For your ending:

One of the most significant points to consider is whether or not your story effectively builds up to its conclusion.

This is imperative, especially if you find that the direction of your story changes midway through your draft.

Write down any scenes or chapters that do very little to propel your story towards its climax and resolution.

Will the removal of these segments disrupt the flow of the story, or will it actually help to build the momentum?

Economy is crucial. Therefore, it’s essential that most (if not all) of the elements in your novel have some function in shaping or defining the ending of your story.

It may also be worthwhile coming back to your introduction after you’ve read the conclusion, as this could help you draw a connection between the two and enhance your capacity to tie up loose ends.

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References

#on writing #writing tips #writing advice #writeblr #dark academia #writing reference #spilled ink #writing inspiration #creative writing #light academia #literature #writers on tumblr #writing prompt #george henry #writing resources

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nenelonomh · 1 month ago

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sleep quality during travel

improving sleep quality during travel can be especially hard since it's not your usual schedule - and often the time zones are different. but it's very important to sleep well,, being well-rested will help you to feel and act better.

here's some tips to help you:

adjust your schedule: a few days before your trip, start shifting your sleep schedule to match your destination’s time zone. this can help your body adjust more smoothly.

stay hydrated: drink plenty of water to stay hydrated, but avoid caffeine and alcohol close to bedtime as they can disrupt your sleep.

create a sleep-friendly environment: bring items like a sleep mask, earplugs, and a travel pillow to make your sleeping environment more comfortable and block out light and noise.

move your body: exercise during the day to help regulate your sleep cycle. even a short walk can make a difference.

use light strategically: expose yourself to natural light during the day and minimize light exposure in the evening to help reset your internal clock.

take melatonin: consider taking melatonin supplements to help regulate your sleep-wake cycle, especially if you’re crossing multiple time zones.

stick to a routine: try to maintain a consistent bedtime routine, even while traveling. this can signal to your body that it’s time to wind down.

do you have any upcoming travel plans where you can try these tips?

❤️ joanne

#that girl #becoming that girl #student #productivity #chaotic academia #student life #study blog #it girl aesthetic #academia #it girl #sleep #sleep tips

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houseofwolves-v1 · 1 month ago

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Hi friends, I finally have consistent reliable cell service again for the first time since Friday. I’m so incredibly thankful that my family and friends are all safe and experiencing only minimal disruption to our homes and living situations in the wake of Hurricane Helene, especially since the same cannot be said for the majority of our area.

I’m going to be compiling a list of local nonprofits and mutual aid funds in Western North Carolina that are helping with disaster relief that are in need of donations and support (I’ll continue editing this post to add more as I find them)

My family and I are doing what we can to help out since we have the ability to do so, but resources are scarce here right now and outside help is greatly appreciated. That being said, please please please DO NOT physically come and try to offer volunteer aid! There are coordinated groups that are making supply runs back and forth, and we need to make sure roads are kept as clear as possible so that emergency and utility workers are able to do their jobs. The majority of the area is still without power and/or water and there are enough of us in stable situations who can volunteer where it’s needed without bringing in people who will be unnecessarily using precious resources.

*EDIT: most places have received such an influx in donations they’re requesting a halt on physical items so that they have time to distribute everything, so monetary donations to purchase bigger ticket items (generators and other such things) are now the priority!* Items needed are non perishable food, bottled water, trash bags, blankets, first aid supplies, pads and tampons, diapers, formula, hand sanitizer, wet wipes, toilet paper, paper towels, bleach, shovels, gloves, coolers, propane, camp stoves, flashlights, and batteries. There are plenty of groups outside the area that are coordinating with groups here to bring those supplies up, so locating someone who is doing that to donate those supplies to is key if you’re wanting to offer a physical donation rather than monetary.

Buncombe County:

•Blue Ridge Public Radio has been an incredible source of information and provides regular updates, both on air at 88.1 if you’re local, and on their instagram page @/blueridgepublicradio (this one is a resource suggestion rather than a donation suggestion)

•BeLoved Asheville- local nonprofit working to distribute supplies and coordinate clean up efforts, Venmo: @/BeLoved-Asheville, PayPal: @/belovedasheville

•Babies Need Bottoms- local nonprofit distributing wipes and diapers, based in Asheville but serves all of Western NC normally, so hopefully they’ll be able to start expanding where they’re offering supplies to soon, Link to Donate: https://babiesneedbottoms.org/donate/

•Pansy Collective- mutual aid collective, also Asheville based but serving the Western NC area, using donations for both general supplies and the specific needs of individuals, Venmo and CashApp: @/pansycollective

•Asheville Survival Program- mutual aid collective, using donations for both general supplies and the specific needs of individuals, Venmo: @/AppMedSolid, CashApp: $streetsidehelene

•Manna Food Bank- private nonprofit distributing food, they serve all of Western NC but just had their headquarters severely damaged by flooding (although they have still been out regularly distributing food the past few days), Link to Donate: https://donate.mannafoodbank.org

•Brother Wolf Animal Rescue- local animal shelter that is urgently seeking foster homes for pets if you’re in the area, and also seeking monetary donations as their facility was severely damaged by flooding, Link to Donate: https://secure.qgiv.com/for/rebuildbw

Madison County:

•Community Housing Coalition- local nonprofit providing home repairs to low income residents, Link to Donate: https://chcmadisoncountync.org/donate/

•Rural Organizing and Resilience (also known as ROAR WNC)- mutual aid effort working to get supplies out to people who can’t access shelters and food distribution sites, Link to Donate: https://ruralorganizing.wordpress.com/donate/?fbclid=PAZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAaYcowwFWXMZ2KX9E5soM2mg1dXfHbe3s8j1_S2D5HAuPuyYv3JtPXzeEDc_aem_rI_E3daUQlumDDLbIEn22g

•Holler Harm Reduction- mutual aid collective, working with ROAR to help distribute supplies, Link to Donate: https://www.hollerharmreduction.org/get-involved

Watauga County:

•@/sweetleaf161 on instagram- regularly sharing mutual aid links for Boone and surrounding areas

•Watauga Humane Society- working to provide pet food to locals, and offering available facility space for those needing a safe space for their pet to temporarily stay during this time, Link to Donate: https://wataugahumane.org/donate/doogies_hope

•F.A.R.M. Cafe- local nonprofit providing free or pay what you can meals, Link to Donate: https://farmcafe.org/donate

•Hunger and Health Coalition- local nonprofit distributing food and medications, based in Boone but serving the whole High Country area, Link to Donate: https://secure.qgiv.com/for/thehungerandhealthcoalition

#my goal is to be able to find at least one or two donation links for each county #as well as some for cities that were hit especially hard #i’ll probably reblog this post each time i update it so just keep an eye out!#bee posts #hurricane helene #western north carolina #mutual aid

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minggukieology · 2 years ago

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"Jimin and Jungkook's casualness isn't anything out of the ordinary but is still surprising"

'지민 (Jimin) Choreography Practice Sketch' write-up ✍️

Among Jimin's gruesome practice sessions and strict work ethics leading up to Face promotions, we were given a peak into a few moments out of Jungkook's visit on day 2.

What struck me (and even k-armys) is that they didn't even bother to pretend to be formal in front of the staff and camera + crew, which just goes to show how long gone are their age barriers in communication and behavior. Once again I know we are all well aware of this development between them, however it is still a bit surprising seeing that happen in front of strangers- especially at their workplace and during work, which is a formal setting. The significance of this may appear minimal to you but in Korean culture, the way you talk to someone but also what you discuss and how you phrase it is highly influenced by the age hierarchy. Allowing someone speak to you informally (even in the public or formal settings) means they now have the same rank as you and their word is thus referred to/significant on the same level as yours and they can express things way more directly. In a highly hierarchical culture with a strong respect for authority (or anyone above) this presents a disruption in an embedded way of thought and behavior that is in the minds of all Koreans from the very early age. 반말 (banmal) of course does happen among many people even those who are not 친구 (friends- meaning people born in the same year) but it is not something that is just expected automatically and in any social setting. (I am excluding family ties here)

Thus, what the international audience may see and perceive only reading the translated subs:

"Ah cool, Jungkook came and supported Jimin"

What the Korean audience (or anyone with just a little knowledge of the language and culture) sees and perceives:

"Oh wow they are speaking informally so naturally to each other, they seem so close"

JK: "I'll cheer for/ support (you)"

(*said in a form that implies promise to someone for the future, informal tone)

JM: "Come again"

(*said as an informal command or request)

Other fav moments:

JK: "Noo, do it once (for me)!"

(*주다 on its own means to give, gift someone something; in combination with other verbs like 하다 (to do) it implies doing something for someone; the most accurate but weird way in English to translate would be: "give a doing" Here Jungkook commands/requests Jimin to do the dance for him in an informal tone which sounds veeery casual, especially considering the dancers nearby 🫣)

JK: "It's awesome/ You're awesome"

(*Again informal tone, the pronouns are not stated therefore both you/it could be inserted)

JK: "Will be cheering (for you), myself"

(Informal tone, said in a form that implies promise to someone for the future + Jungkook added 내가 at the end of the sentence to emphasize he personally will be cheering/supporting Jimin on. Reminder- Korean sentences don't need pronouns, therefore you can tell he used it for added emphasis)

All in all, Jungkook didn't use the formal level a single time besides when he was leaving and told Jimin + everyone else in the room to "take care" (수고하세요).

Finally, to anyone trying to use Jungkook's informal "nope" to Jimin's direct requests to get his ass over there more frequently probably didn't catch just how """seriously""" both of them were taking that convo, as you can see from Jungkook's smirk hidden under the mask ㅋㅋ

Also just how long were they teasing and saying bye to each other if there is a cut and suddenly Jungkook is standing on the other side, still saying bye and holding hands with Jimin? 😆

This short edit of Jungkook's appearance tells a lot about their dynamic and reassures everyone that can perceive the tone of their closeness. I'm glad we could see a little bit of it in this video!

#jimin #face album #jungkook #jikook #민꾸기

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amiivrse · 3 months ago

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❝ MY QUiRK ❞

° . ˚ ⵌ ٠ ᭡ Quirk: Air manipulation

Yuki's quirk allows him to manipulate and control air currents. He can create powerful gusts of wind, form protective barriers, and even fly by riding the air currents. His control over air pressure also enables him to create vacuum zones or compress air to launch high-speed projectiles

୨୧ Applications ★ ̟ !!

Wind Manipulation: How It Works: Yuki can sense and control air currents around him. By focusing his energy and using specific gestures, he can direct the flow of wind to create gusts, breezes, or even powerful blasts.

Flight: How It Works: Yuki harnesses the wind beneath his wings or around his body to lift himself off the ground. He can adjust the intensity and direction of the wind to maneuver through the air with precision.

Air Shield: How It Works: Yuki can create a barrier of swirling air around himself or others by focusing his energy and manipulating the air currents to form a protective shield.

Weather Influence: How It Works: Yuki can subtly alter weather patterns by influencing the movement of air masses. This requires a deep connection with the natural elements and a calm, focused mind.

Sound Amplification: How It Works: By fine-tuning the airwaves, Aero can enhance or dampen sounds. This involves precise control over the density and movement of air

Healing Winds: How It Works: Aero can channel soothing, gentle breezes that have a calming and healing effect. This requires a peaceful state of mind and a nurturing intent.

Air Cushion: How It Works: Aero can create cushions of air to catch falling individuals or lift heavy objects by concentrating on the air pressure and density in a specific area.

Stealth Movement: How It Works: By manipulating air currents around his body, Aero can move silently and remain undetected. This involves minimizing air resistance and sound waves.

୨୧ Strengths ★ ̟ !!

High Mobility: Exceptional speed and agility in the air.

Versatile Defense: Can create barriers and shields to protect against attacks.

Stealth: Ability to move silently and remain undetected by manipulating air currents.

Enhanced Senses: Heightened awareness of changes in the environment.

Weather Control: Minor influence over weather.

Sound Manipulation: Can amplify or mute sounds by controlling airwaves.

Environmental Adaptability: Thrives in various natural environments, especially open spaces.

Rescue Abilities: Can create air cushions to save falling individuals or lift debris.

୨୧ Weaknesses ★ ̟ !!

Energy Drain: Extensive use of his powers can quickly deplete Yuki's energy, leaving him vulnerable and exhausted.

Emotional Instability: His powers can be influenced by his emotional state, leading to unpredictable outcomes if he is stressed or upset.

Weather Sensitivity: Extreme weather conditions, such as heavy storms or intense heat, can disrupt Yuki's control over his abilities.

Dependency on Natural Elements: Yuki's abilities are stronger in natural environments and may weaken in artificial or polluted areas.

Concentration Requirement: Using his powers effectively requires a high level of focus

୨୧ Add me on tiktok @/lluavrse

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criceofpain · 2 years ago

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switch it up | park jongseong (reposted and edited)

featuring: enhypen's jake, heeseung, sunghoon, sunoo, and jungwon; stayc's yoon

synopsis: after you find your ex cheating with another guy, the quiet kid takes the opportunity to get closer to you. but the shocking part is, you never knew he could do a full 180 and be the most charming guy you've ever seen.

pairing: student!jay x student fem!reader

genre: smut, fluff, a tinge of angst (and humor lol)

word count: 7418

warnings: semi-public sex, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), slut-shaming, usage of pet names, vaginal penetration, alcohol consumption, gamer rage (especially heeseung lol), male masturbation, degradation, fellatio, minimal impact play, implied violence, two-timing, cheating, jakehoon are gay, jay has too much porn vids on his laptop, yoon has warfreak tendencies, too much tekken references, too much time skips

Being popular in school had its own perks.

If people were asked what they’d do if they became the most popular person in year two for twenty-four hours, you’d get a vast range of answers from all of them. Fame, beauty, authority, and money–the possibilities are endless for a household name in one of the most prestigious universities in Seoul. The thing is, though, downsides will always be inevitable.

Thursday’s a typical work day for the student council’s president–you. A ton of paper stacks were waiting to be scanned and submitted to the council adviser, but you couldn’t bring yourself to get up and actually work on them. The adviser’s office was two buildings away from your location, and God, did you dread walking. Worse, you had to do it every week and without the help of your vice president. Bothering to find him would be a waste of time, either.

The sudden ring of your phone disrupts your train of thought, making you look up to check whoever was trying to test your patience at this hour. Jakey ♡, your phone screen reads. You heave a relieved sigh; it’s been three days since your boyfriend last called and it was messing with your momentum. Even overthinking was a waste of time and you hated it.

“Hi, love.” you mumbled, voice laced with exhaustion. “I'm glad you finally called.”

“Love, can we cancel our date?” Jake asks from the other line, and your face immediately contorts to a disappointed scowl.

Strange. He’s usually not the type to postpone plans at the last minute because he knew you despised that type of feat. As the student council president, the last thing you'd want is for someone to waste your valuable time.

“Suddenly?” you deadpan as you put your pen down and slowly spin in the swivel chair you sat on. “We’ve got everything planned out and now you wanna cancel?”

Jake sighs. “Coach called us for training. He’s been lenient on me for the past week, I can't afford another absence.”

“Oh.” you utter, at loss for words. “Long day ahead, huh?”

It was what you least expected, anyways. You stay still in your seat, disappointment filling your chest. You start to feel uneasy—you knew you’d never stand a chance against his monster of a coach. What can I do? Jake was the team’s striker which gained him maximum importance. Without him, the team would basically be a chaotic bunch.

“Sorry.” he mutters apologetically. “I didn't want this to happen, really.”

“I know, I know.” you grumble, picking your pen back up and fixing your attention back to the papers you were reviewing. “Can I come after training, though? We should at least eat, like, ramyeon, tteokbokki or something."

A few seconds of silence fills the other line before Jake replies, "God, that sounds—fuck. That's irresistible. I hope Coach lets me off ‘cause his diet plan is seriously killing me.”

“I sure hope he does,” you roll your eyes as the image of a conceited middle-aged man with his stomach overflowing his pants. “unless he wants a big ‘fuck you’ from me for tiring you out. You gotta rest, love.”

He chuckles, causing a grin to tug your lips. “I love you. I know you’re a busy woman and you’ve probably got a lot on your plate right now. I'll hang up now, hmm?”

Your reply gets cut off by the sudden drop of the call, and another sigh leaves your mouth.

Popularity was so exhausting for you. However, not everyone suffers from the syndrome; take Park Jongseong–who goes by “Jay” in school–as an example. The lad has finally gotten a taste of rest after coding what felt like a thousand HTMLs, now nibbling on a cob of corn with his other hand glued to his keyboard.

Why had I never thought of playing Tekken as a way of escaping the hell of school and the sight of students’ thirst for crowd validation before? As he fervently taps the keys of his laptop, the corner of his lip tugs into a slight smirk. He continuously lands hits on a random Kazuya he was matched with, not letting them rest as he uses his trump card–Jin Kazama’s ten-hit combo.

The silence breaks as Jay’s hearty laughter booms in the computer club room. He sighed triumphantly, propping his head on his intertwined hands.

"I gotta tell Heeseung hyung about this.” Jay snickers, grabbing his phone from beside his laptop and speed dialing the number “5”. After a few rings, his friend finally picks up. “Ay, hyung! I got good news for you.”

“Man, fuck you!” Heeseung, the student council’s vice president hisses from the other line, annoyance evident in his voice. Before the younger can ask about why he had such a tone, the older interrupts, “You’re never gonna let me live, are you?”

“Whoa, whoa, chill out, hyung.” Jay chuckles in confusion. “It’s not like I’m gonna use the ten-hit combo on you, is it? What’s the matter?”

Heeseung clicks his tongue and scoffs, “Don’t you see what’s happened or are you playing dumb right now, Jongseong? Fucking look at your screen.”

Jay, although confused, obliges anyway. He looks back at his laptop screen with the rematch menu on display. After a good few seconds, he spots the username of his opponent and immediately gasps, loud enough for his friend to hear. He then breaks into laughter, this time louder and more provoking as he hears the bantering on his ear.

“What—don’t tell me you had no idea—Jay!” the owner of the username heeba_inu_1015 yelled, followed by a frustrated shout.

“Whoops, should’ve gone easy on you, then.” Jay teases, shrugging his shoulders. “No, seriously. I had no idea. This is what school frustration makes me do.”

“Well, at least you’re not the student council’s vice president.”

Jay snorts in disbelief. “Come on, it’s not that hard–” he cuts himself off. “Oh, you’ve got a point, though.”

Jay didn’t necessarily live in the shadows; he just didn’t like being the center of attention. Being an eye candy is the last thing he wanted. Sure, he’s got what it takes to be popular–he’s a CEO's son, filthy rich, and on the honor roll. His friends say he’s got some sick visuals, too. Despite all these, he’d prefer to just blend in with the crowd and not stand out as a resident introvert (not to be confused with being a pick-me boy; Papa Park raised him with manners).

“Still, fuck you.” Heeseung lets out his third scoff of the day. A female voice rambles in the background, on the verge of screaming as the vice president grumbles in dismay. Jay assumes it was the school council’s president calling him out for slacking. “I gotta go, though. Godzilla’s on the run and she’s unstoppable–hey, wait!”

Beep. The call ends, and Jay's me time continues. A chuckle leaves his mouth. That was the president? She’s unhinged as hell.

“What’s the president like?” he mumbles, putting his headphones back on and getting ready to start a new game. “I’d like to meet her.”

“Lee Heeseung, I’m giving you ten seconds to explain to me why you’re on Tekken when you’re supposed to be on duty.”

If looks could kill, your vice president could’ve died a slow, painful death by now. You try your best to keep your calm composure in front of your right-hand man while trying to suppress your anger, but the urge to lash out on him is just getting stronger. Heeseung, feeling intimidated, could only look down on the ground as he hears a disappointed sigh from you.

Fortunately, the school council’s secretary, Yang Jungwon, has informed you of the vice president’s whereabouts. You made sure to leave your pending tasks untouched before storming out of the council office and to the stockroom, where he was apparently taking his sweet time being a heavy load.

“Look, I’ve just finished my last game, Y/N, alright?” Heeseung raises his hands in defeat. “I’m done. I’ll go and help.”

“Oh, you are definitely gonna go help Jungwon in the council’s office because I’m out of here.” you snap, unplugging the Ethernet wire connected to his gaming laptop. “There are waivers waiting for you. Get your ass up.”

“Alright.” he mutters, head hung low as he switches off his laptop. “I’m sorry.”

Without another word, you turn your back on him and walk out of the suffocating stockroom. How does he even stand the heat in there? Your steps get quicker as much as the psychological warfare you were having with yourself is getting worse. People are probably looking at me right now and think, why the hell is her face so sour? They wouldn’t know. They’re not the overworked, unpaid, “popular” student council president with a freeloader of a vice president and a midfielder boyfriend who’s just as popular.

You’ve been zoned out for the entirety of your trip back to the council office, but the sight of a familiar shoe sticking from one of the corridor posts shakes you awake. Your eyebrows furrow, wondering what would someone with skate shoes be doing in that spot at this hour when it’s inter-school olympics season. You take another set of steps before seeing a man’s back view with the jersey number 5 on it, and the scene that unfolds in front of you shakes your whole world.

Your boyfriend and the school’s most famous figure skater, Park Sunghoon, were kissing.

It has been a week since you found out that Sim Jaeyun was cheating on you and is gay.

You remember being rooted in your spot as you saw them eating each other’s faces. Screaming at them would be a waste of time. You feared wasting time the most, and crying in front of someone came in second. Instead of doing what someone normally does in these situations–screaming and bawling their eyes out, you land a slap on each of their faces with a shit-eating grin on your face before running to the nearest comfort room to cry.

You wouldn’t mind your boyfriend coming out of the closet and ending your relationship in good terms, but the fact that he’d been flirting–and probably fucking–around with a guy behind your back infuriated you.

You didn’t know how it came to this—you crying your heart out inside the club office as Heeseung finally took over and finished the rest of your work due to you not being able to properly open your swollen eyes. Even moving around was a pain in the ass. Jungwon works from the sidelines as well, and both of them didn’t dare speak a word to you unless spoken to. They knew better than to mess with a girl who’s got cheated on.

“Cabining trip’s tomorrow. You still going, noona?” Jungwon asks, eyes glued to his laptop screen as he types the minutes of the meeting for the past week. “We need you over there, Pres.”

“Hmm.” you reply, not having the energy to speak out a proper word as you blew your nose on a paper towel. Of course I’ll be there. What am I, a ghoster?

As Jungwon bombards you with questions, your replies are short and reserved, along the lines of “yeah”, “uh-huh”, and the like. How were you supposed to show yourself without shame knowing that your ex wasn’t into you anymore?

“Heeseung.” you croak out, getting a short “huh” as a response. “I need your help with something.”

“What’s it about, miss ma'am?”

You cringe at the nickname, throwing the empty box of paper towels along his way. “If you use that nickname on me again, I swear.” you hiss.

“Damn, calm down, will you?” Heeseung chuckles, barely dodging the box that almost hit his face. “What is it?”

You saunter your way towards the table where the two lads worked. propping your hands on the desk, You then look over at Jungwon who has his whole attention on his laptop, not bothering to pop into the conversation or listen to whatever you were about to say.

“You’re best friends with the adviser, right?” you whisper to Heeseung, to which he nods. “And I’m not. Wow. What am I president for, then?

“Touche.” he shrugs. “What about him?”

“This could be fucked up but,” you lean in to whisper on his ear. “Can you beg him to sneak drinks for the adults?”

Your eyes screw shut in embarrassment, in disbelief of the words that just came out of your mouth. You’re better than this, Y/N.

“Yes.” Heeseung lets out a dramatic gasp, nodding vigorously at your idea. “You had me at ‘drinks’, Y/N, come on. Spill!”

“Noona, you’re kidding, right? Why would you sneak drinks in–”

“Quiet, kid.” you cut Jungwon off. “I’ve got a breakup to get over. Let the adults have this.”

With that, Heeseung let out a dramatic gasp, nodding vigorously at your idea.

The day of the cabining trip has come, and it wasn’t the most enjoyable day for the student council so far. While the other kids were having the time of their lives, talking with their friends and not worrying about keeping the lines straight and the cabins quiet, you struggled to keep the students in order as you tapped the backs of those who made a commotion, or worse, those who made out in broad daylight.

To your relief, Heeseung was in charge of bag inspection, which meant drinks were allowed (unless one was not of legal age, of course). The students will just have to hide it from the other supervisors. Jungwon, along with the student council’s treasurer, Sunoo, were on room assignment duty, making sure to separate the guys and girls from each other. Getting pregnant on a school trip is the last thing anyone would want.

Meanwhile, Jay stands quietly as the line advances. He wasn’t really supposed to be going on this trip if it weren’t for his father insisting him to do so. Luckily, with Heeseung’s permission, he was allowed to bring his gaming laptop without you knowing. The vice president just hopes he wouldn’t get pulled by the ear again.

“God, I hope I get the top bunk.” Jay mutters, putting his bag on the desk for inspection.

“Gotta go fast, then.” Heeseung replied, probing the contents of his friend’s bag. He taps Jay’s shoulders after he’s done. “Man, I hope we’re roommates.”

“Heeseung, how's the inspection going?” you bellow over the crowd of students, craning your head to look for him.

As you and Heeseung scream at each other over the loud sounds in the cabins, Jay couldn’t help but steal glances at you. He did pass by you sometimes, but he hasn't really gotten the chance to step up and talk to you. What a waste. After news has spread that you got cheated on, he could imagine himself tackling you into a hug and giving you small forehead kisses in hopes to ease your pain. He had set his eyes on you ever since you were appointed as president, and he found you so pretty ever since. He just secretly hoped that Jake wouldn’t go begging for you to come back, or else he’d lose his mind.

His daydreaming stops when he bumped shoulders with someone whom he least expected–you. The two of you momentarily met each other’s eyes, and Jay swore he’d melt then and there if it weren’t for you turning away almost immediately. On the other hand, you wonder why he’s been stuck on his spot for a good minute, so you approach him cautiously.

“Uh, are you lost, perhaps?” you wave a hand in front of Jay’s face. “You seem to be spacing out, Jay.”

She knows me. Oh, my God, she just acknowledged me. His heart somersaults in his chest at the mention of his name. It rolled off of your mouth perfectly.

It takes him five seconds to answer, “I’m good, thank you.”

You smile briefly at him, and he flashes one back. He walks silently, trying to suppress a shout from coming out of his mouth. You were always pretty to him, and that smile was the cherry on top.

The first day of the retreat wasn’t really hectic, except for the fact that all of the students have to run ten laps all around the yard before they can even have a taste of breakfast. Despite the supervisors lurking around the whole site, you’ve taken brave sips on your bottle of soju, disguised as drinking water. You couldn’t help but see Jake and his new lover every time you had to lead a segment and meet face to face with everyone, and your chest would always clench. How the fuck is he so happy without me? If it weren’t for the other officers beside you, you would’ve wrestled Sunghoon without a doubt.

The second and third days would probably be the most boring of them all, but not for Jay.

His laptop keeps him company as he silently jerks off to porn videos, trying his best to stifle a groan to not wake up whoever was occupying the top bunk. He would’ve brought a fleshlight, too, but he figured it’d be too much for a school retreat. So he resorts to another option–a sock.

He finishes without suspicion, and gets knocked out to sleep right after.

On the other side of the site, you sit awake in your bunk, finishing the last of the soju you’ve successfully hidden for days. You sigh, not feeling any signs of drowsiness as you stare in spaces. I should've seen this coming. You wanted to slap yourself for being so clueless. Hasn’t it come to you that Jake might be using soccer training as an excuse to meet up with Sunghoon instead of you?

“Y/N, you dumb bitch.” you spit out, grabbing your phone to dial Heeseung’s number.

After a few rings, he picks up. “What the fuck, Y/N, it’s 3 in the morning.” the lad grumbled as he tossed and turned in his bed. “You better give me a good reason for calling at this hour.”

“You got a laptop with you?” you ask. What a stupid question. “It's urgent business.”

“No, I don't, dummy.” he snaps, and his sudden change of tone takes you aback. “I thought you knew we can only bring phones.”

You sigh. Out of all times your council adviser demanded an accomplishment report from you, why now? At that moment, you even wished to switch bodies with Heeseung; he was the adviser’s best friend and not you. Despite you telling your superior that you haven’t brought your laptop, he didn't budge, even bringing up the drink-sneaking incident.

To say you were doomed would be an understatement.

“Why does your best friend put me in situations like this?” you whine, pulling your hair in frustration. “He knows I don't have my laptop at the moment! Tell me, does he have something against me? ‘Cause he better settle things with me. Damn it. Do you get me? Sometimes I just want to walk out on all of you because I’ve got the whole council on my back! i’m a human who has limits, too, for fuck’s sake! When do I quit? I can quit anytime and turn my back on this responsibility. You take over once this term ends–”

“Shut up. I'm at your door.”

You hitch a breath, hang up and climb out of your bunk. You silently open the door to see your vice president holding an open laptop in his hand, phone on the other. The lad passes the device on to you, praying that his friend doesn’t notice his laptop out of place when he wakes up.

“Hey, that ain’t mine, though. Be careful with that.” he says, and you scowl in suspicion.

“Thanks,” you smile slightly. “Though I thought I told you not to bring gadgets in the cabin–”

“Don’t ask, just…” he waves his hands frantically, avoiding the question. “I’ll get going.”

“Okay…?” your voice trails off, and you shoo Heeseung away. “You’re a lifesaver, by the way.”

Heeseung nods, jogging his way out as you close your cabin door. You didn’t bother to wonder whose laptop this was; the only thing in your mind was the report you had to finish.

In silence, you immediately get to work. With sips of water from time to time, you struggle to keep yourself awake as you type the needed information, word by word, making sure that it would be slap-worthy on your adviser’s face.

After two hours of staring and typing, you feel your eyes giving out and fingers straining as you move the document file to your flash drive, finally finishing your work.

“This motherfucker better not scold me tomorrow.” you mutter through clenched jaws, carefully ejecting the drive from God-knows-whose laptop.

With slow hands, you close all of the windows you have used, even the tabs, making it look untouched as this was neither your laptop, nor Heeseung's. Whose is this, then? There wasn't a wallpaper in it, just the default one, and that made guessing a waste of time. Nonetheless, you make a mental note to thank the owner first thing in the morning for saving your desperate ass in such a critical situation.

Before you can shut down the device, a particular folder on the desktop screen catches your attention, especially its name,

“Things I want to do to Y/N”

You squint in surprise, mouse cursor hovering over the folder. As much as you wanted to pry it open, you wanted to respect the privacy of the owner of the laptop, whoever they were. But this has my name on it. You shake your head, preparing for the worst to happen as you double-click on the folder. What you see next shocks you utterly, making your heartbeat rise as you check the name of the owner.

The laptop belongs to a Park Jongseong, with the folder containing porn videos.

In astonishment, you close the laptop with a loud thud, not bothering to shut it down properly or close the porn folder before you do. A series of knocks makes you jump and hit your head on the top bunk.

“Go to sleep, Y/N!” your bunkmate from the top grumbles.

What the fuck is going on? You sigh, wrapping yourself in a cocoon with your blanket.

It's the last day of the retreat, which means free time for all the students until the morning comes with no schedules to stick to. However, you were far from relaxed as last night’s events haven't left your mind until now. You didn’t know what to feel knowing that the quiet kid has been fantasizing about you, and in secret. Do you get mad, grossed out or flattered? Neither of them felt right and it messed up with your head so much. Worrying about it would be a waste of time.

Heeseung couldn’t help but notice you staring at Jay, who played basketball by himself from afar. You spaced out often, too, and it was so not like you to do so. Apparently, your efforts on acting normal outside while being a chaotic mess inside fail as you finally draw out a frustrated groan.

“Something wrong?” Heeseung asks. “You're zoned out pretty bad.”

“That report sucked the life out of me.” you reply monotonously, standing up from your seat, eyes not leaving Jay. “I'll meet you at the bonfire. I just need sleep.”

“Fine. I'll take over for you.”

You nod, trudging to your cabin in hopes to get some rest. However, once your body dips down the mattress, images of Jay hovering over you appear as you close your eyes. Shaking it off, you push a pillow against your face, muffling out a scream of annoyance.

On the other hand, Jay has been stealing glances from you as well, completely unaware of you seeing the deepest, darkest secrets he's kept hidden in his laptop.

After what felt like days of slumber, you were awakened by the noise of students outside of the cabins. hollers and shouts fill your ears as you get yourself out of bed. As much as you hated being woken up in such a manner, you were happy to be able to get a wink of sleep.

“Evening, Y/N.”

You look up from the ground, seeing the person whom you unfortunately wanted to avoid the most. Jay wore a small smile on his face, which was seen clearer without his glasses. Contrary to his usual hoodie-slacks combo, he wore a shirt that snugly fit him, in which you can definitely see the slight curvature of his chest. His toned arms were on full display, too, and you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d flex under your touch. His thighs looked just as attractive, given the fact that he wore cargo shorts.

“Good… evening, Jay.” you chuckle awkwardly. “What's the matter? Can I help you?” Why does he look so different? He even wore his hair differently.

“Nothing much.” he replies sheepishly. “Just, uh, wanted to have a casual talk with the president.” God, that bedhead. Why does it make her more fuckable? He steals glances at the skimpy top that hugged your body, accentuating your curves and your plump breasts.

“Really?” you grin in amusement, not expecting his statement. Just say you wanna fuck and go. “That's strange. No one comes up to me unless it’s about school.”

“That'd be an honor.” he comments, gaze not shifting away from you.“Would having small talk with me waste your time?”

You hesitantly shake your head, and he smiles. Fuck, that smile. Where is this going to get me now?

The two of you proceed to have a conversation outside the cabin, at the same time, thinking of lewd thoughts that were probably too inappropriate, given the setting. From time to time, your hands would brush each other’s, increasing the tension between the two of you.

Despite this, Jay would get distracted, finding your giggles so adorable, especially knowing that he was the reason behind them. You admired how Jay speaks, and how cautious he was when you ranted about your ex. He just hoped no one would call you out and separate the both of you.

Or so he thought.

The whistle trills fills your ears as rain falls angrily on your skin. Whines and grumbles were heard as the bonfire session was declared canceled by Sunoo and Jungwon. Students start sprinting back to their cabins as the rain pours, including the supervisors. No more confession time and roasted marshmallows, I guess.

You look over to see your cabin that was several meters from where you and Jay stood, attempting to make a run for it. However, Jay gets a hold of your wrist before you can take your first step.

“Stay.” his voice is deep and alluring, and you could feel your body slightly shiver.

“You sure?” you raise your brows anyway, not bothering to pull away from his grip. “What if someone sees us drenched in here? Are you willing to vouch for me?”

“You're the president. I'm sure no one would budge.”

You don't protest. Instead, you take the opportunity to ask him about the folder in his laptop, which, by the way, he still assumes was untouched. He, meanwhile, couldn’t take his eyes off of the top that clung to your skin, against your stomach. You pretty much were doing the same as you eyed his abs through his shirt.

After what felt like ten minutes of standing under the rain, both of you were drenched as you walked into an empty cabin for protection that no one used due to faulty electricity. You sit side by side in a single bed, neither of you having the guts to start another conversation.

Maybe it was time for you to spill your secrets.

“I like you.”

“Fuck me.”

The two of you look at each other after speaking at the same time. Your remark especially shocks Jay, so does the way you weren’t fazed with his confession just now. A hand instinctively goes up to cup your mouth. Shit, was I not subtle enough? You fake a hearty chuckle (which was actually a nervous one) as you see his perplexed expression.

“You don’t wanna fuck me?” you mutter, confidence leaving your system as his expression remains unchanged.

“No–I mean, yes.” he immediately replies, afraid that you might take it as him rejecting you. “Of course, I do.”

“Do it, then.”

You tower over his sitting figure, propping your hands on his chest. Jay couldn’t help but close his eyes, asking himself whether this was a dream or not. Your touch trails up to his neck, your fingertips tracing his collarbones. You catch his lips into a sloppy kiss, which he returns fervently as he slips his tongue on your mouth. The cold sensation brought by the raindrops on your skin is now gone as he pulls you into his lap and wraps your legs around his waist. For a minute, he savors your lips as his hands find their way to the hem of your top, feeling a little hesitant.

He pulls off, staring into your eyes as he searches for a sign of fear in your face. “Should I?”

Without a word, you nod, guiding his hands into taking off your top. His eyes roam along your torso, your breasts wanting to be freed from their restraints as they were practically coming out of your tight bra. His cock twitches and slightly hardens at the sight.

“Jay…” you whine, digging your ass against his hardness. A groan leaves his mouth. “I want you to take over.”

With that, he flips the two of you over, with you beneath him. He then pins your hands above your head, asserting his dominance. You hitch a breath as you feel his clothed cock rub against your crotch, still not believing his change in character.

“Is this really the quiet kid I knew?” you tease, making Jay yank your bottoms down, leaving you in your bra. He then lands a stinging spank on your ass cheek, squeezing the soft flesh after.

“Shush, Y/N, unless you want me to leave you hanging.”

Damn, even his voice can make me cum at this point. you feel him spreading your legs slowly, dipping a finger on your damp pussy as he kisses your inner thighs. You reach for his hair and stroke it gently as his lips get closer to where you needed him the most, your other hand squeezing your breast.

he licked a warm strip along your clit, eliciting a whimper from you. He held you by the knees to keep you from pressing your thighs together as he ate you out. his moans against your sex provided vibrations that made your toes curl, and moans louder.

“So miss president loves being eaten out, huh?” Jay chuckles, his ego growing as you reply to him with a broken mewl, pushing two of his fingers inside you. “Such a needy slut.”

He proceeds with his ministrations as he leaves marks on your thigh, torso, then up to your breasts, avoiding your neck to not cause suspicion. The way your walls tightened around his fingers made his cock harden even more. even until now, you couldn’t believe the situation you were in–being fucked by the resident introvert who was secretly a freak in bed.

Your grip on his hair tightens as you feel your high nearing. “Jay, I'm cumming!” you cry out desperately.

Hearing that, Jay pulls his fingers out of you, and licks them with a smirk on his lips. “You taste so sweet… however, I can’t just have you cumming somewhere that’s not on my cock, can I?”

He takes off his drenched top, and the rest of his clothes follow, freeing his erect cock from its confines. He drags his tip against your clit, teasing your entrance and holding your hips tight to stop you from pushing him in.

“Jay, please…” you beg, voice laced with frustration. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Is that so?” Jay snickers, slapping your thigh. “Little miss slutty president wants to suck me off?”

“Mm-mm.” you nod, eyeing his cock and the pre-cum that leaked from his tip. “fuck my mouth, just like how you want it.”

Just like how I want it? he stops in his tracks as he sees you grinning from beneath him. It was finally time for you to confess.

“Sir,” you whined, the pet name causing Jay to let out an audible groan. “I gotta tell you something.”

You sit up and bend over in front of him, his cock on your face and your ass up. He lets out a small gasp as your tongue teases his tip. The way you made eye contact with him didn’t help him, either. He bunches your hair up in a ponytail, wrapping it all around his knuckles as you sucked him like a popsicle.

“Tell me, baby,” he sighs, looking down at you in amusement.

“I needed a laptop for my report.” you lick him from base to tip. “And Heeseung, the vice president, borrowed yours for me.”

The way your tongue moves all over him sends shivers all over his body, and he makes the impulsive decision to rub his cock all over your face. “Baby saw my porn stash, didn’t she?” he chuckles, pushing himself deeper in your throat. You try to stop yourself from gagging as he fucks your mouth. “Fuck, yes. Those were all meant for you. All the things I wanna do to that body.”

You moan against his cock, reaching for your clit to rub yourself. you expected a different reaction from him, but by the looks of it, the Jay you passed by along the corridors was now gone. In front of you is a different person, and you actually loved it. You loved this new side of him.

“This is one of them.” Jay adds. “Fucking your mouth.”

You feel your head being guided by his hands as he nears his orgasm, thrusting faster inside your mouth. you whimper as his tip hits your throat, waiting for his warm release to fill your mouth.

However, he pulls out again, much to your dismay. He gets out of the bed and walks to the other side where he can take you from behind. Coincidentally, there stood a mirror in front of you, and you could clearly see his naked body as you were on your hands and knees. Fuck, I bet he works out a lot. He spanks your ass cheeks again, making you yelp.

“God, you’re so fucking hot, miss president.” Jay says under his breath, lining his tip on your cunt and getting ready to push himself inside of you. “I don’t have a condom with me, though.”

“I'm on the pill.” you reply. You realized you haven’t gotten rid of your habit of taking birth control pills even though you didn’t have sex as much anymore, especially now that you’re not with Jake anymore. “I have a favor to ask you.”

“Which is?”

You heave a deep sigh before speaking. I'll have to do this once and for all. “Help me forget about Jake.”

Without a word, he pushes himself slowly inside you. A gasp leaves your mouth at how big and girthy he was as he stretched your walls. It took you a while to adjust to his size, but after he has sunken his whole length in you, he starts moving.

I'll help you forget about Jake, sweetheart. “My love… tell me.” he drags a fingertip along your spine, rocking his hips at a steady pace. “Who's making you feel good right now?”

“You, Jay.” you reply, almost sounding like a scream as you do. “Your cock feels so good inside me.”

“Fuck, yeah, I am.” jay snickers, pulling you by the hair and making you look at your fucked-out reflection in the mirror. “Look at you. Such a cock-hungry bitch.”

God, you hated being degraded, but why did Jay's words turn you on?

Jay's pace gradually goes faster as he feels you tightening around him, his muscles flexing as his skin slaps against yours.

“That fucking soccer boy can never fuck you as good as I do, right?”

“Ah, yes!” you whimper as his finger reaches your clit.

He groans. “Repeat after me, darling. Cheaters.”

“Cheaters–ah!” you squeal as Jay spanks your ass again.

“Ain’t.” Jay seethed.

“Ain't…” you draw out a whine as he holds you by the waist.

“Shit.” he pulls you to sit up, slapping your breasts.

“Shit! Oh, that feels good.” you bury your head in the bed.

“See? That fucker doesn’t deserve you.” he whispered against your neck, leaving a dark mark by sucking on it. “He can go get some dick by himself ‘cause from now on, you’re mine.”

As his hands make their way back to your breasts, you feel like putty under Jay's touch. You couldn’t help but agree to his every word as if he’s put you in a state of hypnosis. Your words are incomprehensible as he snaps his hips harshly against yours, the feeling of his cock inside you clouding your vision and thoughts.

“I said you’re mine, little slut.”

“I'm yours.” you breathe out.

Once he has been given the go signal, he slows down for a bit and turns your head so you can see each other’s gazes. “If you'd let me take care of you, I'd do it wholeheartedly.” he said, kissing your knuckles lovingly. “I don't care how slow you want the process to be, Y/N. Just give me a chance.”

You don’t say a word. Instead, you lock his lips in a loving kiss. He holds onto your waist for dear life as your hips move in sync, the heated moment turning into a passionate, affectionate one.

“You close?” Jay mumbles against your lips, and you nod.

You stay still in that position as Jay picks up his pace, letting you feel his warmth as he brings you to your high.

Your climax crashes like waves, and it seems like momentarily taking the life out of you. Jay follows suit, his seed spilling inside of you.

After a good minute, he pulls out of you, lays you down on the mattress and hovers above you. you cup his cheeks and give him a peck on the forehead, the introvert in him slowly coming back as he blushes at your action.

“Let me clean you up.” Jay says with a slight pout, the dominant in him finally out of the picture as he spoke.

“Can we do that later?” you reply, planting a kiss on his nose. “Let me hold you for a while.”

He doesn’t oblige. Rather, he picks up his drenched shorts from the floor, pulling a small handkerchief from its pocket. As he proceeds cleaning you up, you stare at him fondly. Were you in love? Not yet. Would you give him a shot? Definitely. The way he just switched up on you would need some processing time, though. It was one heck of a moment.

The night ends with Jay sending you off to your cabin, kissing you good night as he promises to meet you in school after the weekend.

You slowly stroll along the corridors of the art department building, looking for Jay's room as you go. You have been walking for thirty minutes straight, but without an ounce of exhaustion in your body although it was a Thursday–a work day for the student council president. To say that you were excited to meet him would be an understatement.

It’s been a week since the last day of the cabin trip and your first sexual encounter with someone who wasn’t Jake. You’ve been feeling a lot better, and it made Heeseung and Jungwon wonder how you’ve done it so fast. Jay’s been sending you food over the weekend and it stunned you how well he cooks. He’s been dropping over to the student council adviser’s office from time to time, too, just to watch you work.

You feel your feet starting to hurt, but you keep on walking anyway. I need to see my Jay after a long dayyyyy.

“There she is!” a voice starts shouting, causing you to stop on your tracks. “The prim and proper student council president.”

You squint your eyes at the person who turned out to be Sim Jayoon, Jake's cousin. She eyes you with a scowl as if scrutinizing you, and retches as if she was grossed out. You knew exactly what she came at you for–to act as a proxy for her wimpy cousin who hasn’t shown his face in the soccer team ever since. She has the reputation of being the worst pick-me in all of tenth grade, and that makes this encounter worse.

“You rang, Yoon?” you reply, faking a cheerful tone as you try your best not to pounce at the poor girl. “Do you need help with something?”

“Weren’t you crying over Jake oppa just last week?” Yoon spits out, towering over you to assert dominance. “Now you’re fucking with another guy? Seriously, sunbaenim, how much of a slut can you be?”

Does she expect me to cry and beg her to keep my dirty little secret? You snort. “Babe, your Jake oppa two-timed me with Park Sunghoon while I was on duty. That makes your cousin the slut here, doesn’t it?”

“And I did what I could do best–moving on.” you add, pissing Yoon off even more. Her face reddens in anger, and you taunt her, patting her head. “Aww, look at you. Aren’t you such a good guard dog for not admitting that your cousin made mistakes?”

“Shut up!” she yells defensively, stepping away from you. “You’re the president and you’re supposed to be the role model, right? You should step down if you tolerate double-dipping! bitch!”

With that, Yoon raises a hand to land a slap on your face, and you grimace, expecting the sting to land on your cheek. However, three seconds in and nothing hits you.

Turns out, a hand blocked Yoon’s arm and stopped her from slapping you. You look over your shoulder to see Jay with his usual meh expression plastered on his face. He raises his brows at Yoon, evidently annoyed by her words.

“At least she’s getting better sex than your cousin does.” he quips, throwing Yoon’s wrist to the ground.

You gasp at Jay’s choice of words. “Jay! Language!”

“What? It's the truth.” he replies, holding up a cube in his hand which happened to be a mini-recorder. “You want me to call your parents or something?”

In defeat, Yoon screams, stomping her way out of the corridors. You hear a deep chuckle from Jay behind you, and you instinctively land a slap on his chest. “You didn’t just say that in front of a fifteen-year old kid.”

“What was I supposed to do? She’s just called you slut and a bitch.” Jay shrugged, and you could only shake your head at him. He leans closer to your ear and whispers, “You’re my bitch, though.”

You roll your eyes, unable to protest “Jay, as much as I appreciate the degradation–”

“Meet me after your last period. I promise I won’t ditch you.” he grins, giving your lips a brief peck. “I’m off to the e-sports club office and nope, Heeseung hyung won’t be playing with me this time.”

“Thanks for the assurance..?” you say hesitantly, followed by a chuckle. He’s back at it again with the random updates. “Show them what you got, gamer boy.”

He pecks your lips again, and starts walking away with his back facing you. You could only look at him in awe as he leisurely walked the corridor with his headphones on and probably a One Ok Rock song blasting from them. He was your definition of comfort, and the only one who could convince you that wasting time wasn’t a bad thing after all.

“Love ya!” he bellows suddenly, making you yelp. Now’s not the time to say it back yet. You blow him a kiss and he makes a run for the stairs. Of course, you loved him, too.

And the other sides of him, of course.

a/n: this fic is especially dedicated to my girlies nics (@ddeonuism) and aria (@jaylaxies) bc apparently they love this fic so much so OFC i had to retrieve it and free it from the dungeon! this is for all my jay hoes 🥳 one of the fics that got me started in enhablr AND my first ever jay fic. i tweaked this a lil bit just to make jay hotter and sweeter bc ik that's what y'all want right 🙄 /lh enjoy lovelies!

NSFW TAGLIST [OPEN]: @thots4hee @jaylaxies @ddeonuism @jojayke @vernonluvs-archived @puphee @hee-pster @forjongseong @jaeyunsz @muffinminnie @shu-ramyeonz @poutyjaeyun @fairy-junseong @duolingofanaccount @jkefelx @taetaemylovie @heetro @yizhoutv @lavhikaru @kaislinging-slasher01 @cha0thicpisces @en-archv @simplewonderland @exactlygreatcoffee @lhseth @aerinaga @xwonniex @jyshdoll @iiousim (send an ask or a dm to be added!)

#fics: switch it up #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen oneshots #enhypen headcanons #enhypen drabbles #enhypen smut #enhypen jay #enhypen jay smut #jay smut #park jongseong #jay #enhypen park jongseong #jay hard hours #enhypen hard hours #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen jay scenarios #enhypen jay x reader

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jingwei · 4 months ago

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Class A Event Cafe Business Model

Analyzing Gakushu's school festival business plan from a comprehensive finance and psychological perspective reveals several key strengths and potential risks. I'll delve into the intricacies of the revenue model, cost structure, operational efficiency, and psychological tactics for a nuanced understanding of his business strategy and its implications. (This may get wordy.)

The event cafe's primary revenue source is the 500 yen entrance fee, which provides attendees with free food, drinks, and access to performances. This model banks on repeat visits, assuming high engagement levels. The psychological underpinning here is the ‘fear of missing out’ (FOMO), as events are scheduled at one-hour intervals, creating urgency and encouraging multiple payments.

Examining the cost structure, Gakushu’s reliance on free performances by pop stars pals and comedian buddies significantly cuts entertainment expenses. This cost-saving measure, however, hinges on personal relationships, posing sustainability risks. If these relationships wane or if performers seek compensation in the future, it could disrupt the cost structure. Since this is a fictional case scenario, I'm going with the possibility that Gakushu's network can be relied on.

The endorsement deal with Suzume Izakaya food services provides substantial financial support and in-kind contributions. This sponsorship not only reduces operational costs but also enhances the festival’s credibility, as Suzume Izakaya’s brand reputation can attract more visitors who trust the quality of the food and beverages.

Offering free food and drinks is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it is an attractive feature that can draw a large number of attendees, enhancing perceived value and satisfaction. On the other hand, it presents a significant cost burden. Effective inventory management and supplier negotiations are crucial to balance cost and supply. There is also a risk of overconsumption, which must be managed to avoid resource depletion.

Operational efficiency is another critical component of Gakushu's plan. Organizing events at one-hour intervals on different stages maximizes space and time utilization, keeping the audience engaged and minimizing downtime. This continuous engagement strategy ensures that attendees are constantly entertained, increasing the likelihood of repeat entrance fee payments. The immediate start of subsequent events also helps maintain a steady flow of visitors, reducing congestion and enhancing the overall customer experience.

Psychologically, the one-hour event intervals create a sense of urgency and scarcity, compelling attendees to make quick decisions to attend multiple events. This tactic leverages the psychological principle that limited availability increases perceived value, driving higher engagement and repeat visits.

The use of celebrity performances taps into social proof and authority. Featuring well-known pop stars and comedians draws their fan bases and generates buzz, enhancing the festival’s attractiveness. This social influence can significantly boost attendance, as people tend to follow the actions of those they admire. The endorsement by Suzume Izakaya also adds an element of authority and trust, reassuring attendees about the quality and safety of the festival’s offerings.

The all-inclusive 500 yen entrance fee creates a high perceived value, making attendees feel they are getting a good deal. This pricing strategy increases their willingness to pay, especially when considering the continuous entertainment and free provisions. The plan also aims to foster customer loyalty by ensuring a captivating experience that encourages repeat visits.

Quoting what the Virtuosos said, such a complex and multifaceted plan is particularly challenging for a third-year junior high student. The management skills required to coordinate performances, manage resources, negotiate partnerships, and ensure operational efficiency are significant. Gakushu’s ability to pull off this plan and win the school festival showcases exceptional organizational and leadership skills. This ability to leverage personal networks and psychological principles to drive engagement and revenue are commendable. Successfully managing such a demanding project at 15 could be foreshadowing of his future as an executive when he started a business in Silicon Valley after receiving an MBA at MIT.

#ansatsu kyoushitsu #assassination classroom #asano gakushu #asano gakushuu

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misshoneyimhome · 6 months ago

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But with three of us, honey, it's a sideshow I William Nylander & Matthew Knies - Part two

Summary; A quote by Hector Urquhart goes "One man's rubbish may be another's treasure" - however, what happens, when the first man realises that it wasn't rubbish after all?

Other notes: Alrighty babes, so here's the continuation (yes, there will be a part three) of the threesome drama I've been imagining 🙃 And if you notice me alternating between the good guy and the bad guy, it's because I'm debating with myself along the way 😉 Anyway, I hope you still find it enjoyable 🤍

Tropes & Warnings; William Nylander x Matthew Knies x reader, Friends to lovers; jealousy; 18+ smut; fingering, protected penetrative sex (p in v); bloody nose, mild "fighting";

Word count; 6.2K+

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @justwanderingbutneverlost @Fortheloveofnylander

➼｡ﾟ

The game against the Tampa Bay Lightning turned out to be incredibly frustrating and verging on awful for the Leafs. They just didn’t perform at their best, and the Lightning quickly gained the upper hand. Only Auston’s power play goals offered a glimmer of hope for the team, but it was short-lived as they struggled to coordinate effectively.

And what was particularly evident to everyone, especially the team's coaching staff, was the lack of teamwork between players 88 and 23. So, as the game ended with a 4-1 loss for the Leafs, Coach Keefe wasted no time in pulling the two players aside in the corridor.

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on between you two… but whatever it is, you better fucking sort it out and stop behaving like spoiled kids.”

“Yes coach…”

“Sorry, coach…”

It was a stern reprimand, but a necessary one. While neither player had intentionally avoided each other on the ice, their subconscious actions had influenced their performance, which was unacceptable at their level of play.

So, as they stood there in the Scotiabank Arena corridor, exchanging glances, they understood that they had to address the issue. Their focus had to be on the game, and no personal matters should interfere. However, putting this into practice would prove to be much easier said than done.

Once both lads had changed into their regular attire and left the locker room to greet the gathered family and friends, they purposefully avoided you. Not out of desire, but out of necessity.

You seemed to be a source of disruption for both of them, and at that moment, they needed to clear their minds and concentrate on hockey. With the playoffs looming closer, both of them had much to demonstrate.

And in truth, you didn’t mind the avoidance. You weren’t inclined to confront either of them, so the lingering silence among the three of you created a strangely calming atmosphere for the already lacklustre evening.

Even in the subsequent two days, there was minimal communication from both players, leaving you feeling somewhat unsettled. Unsure of the nature of their exchange, you contemplated initiating a conversation, but instead, you welcomed the drama-free days, immersing yourself in work and sidestepping your own conflicting emotions.

However, that all changed when you were picking up your favourite coffee at the quaint nearby café you frequented, and you turned around only to find William's handsome face before you.

“Willy,” you gasped, feeling a sense of déjà vu as if history were repeating itself with his unexpected appearance.

“Hey y/n,” he spoke softly, a charming smile playing on his lips.

“What are you doing here?” you asked tentatively, aware that this wasn’t exactly his usual haunt, though close enough for him to drop by easily.

William chuckled lightly, shrugging as he gestured towards his hands in his pockets. “Just passing by, taking the dogs for a walk,” he nodded towards the window, where you spotted Pablo and Banksy tied up outside, patiently awaiting their owner.

“Oh,” you simply replied, surprised by the slight prickle of disappointment that flickered in your heart.

“And... I sort of... was hoping to bump into you,” William admitted nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided meeting your gaze.

And just like that, the disappointment swiftly faded, replaced by a small smile that crept onto your lips. You couldn’t quite pinpoint why this moment held such significance for you, but seeing William here, making an effort to find you on a Tuesday before the match later, warmed something inside you.

“Oh,” you responded with a gentle smile, still standing amidst the quiet of the small coffee shop. Fortunately, there were few people around, given that it was just before the afternoon rush. “Why... why were you hoping to see me?” you asked softly, the curiosity evident in your voice.

“Well, uh... I mean... I think I just... I just wanted to apologise... for being distant and all...” William began, his tone hesitant as he tried to collect his thoughts and find the best way to express himself. Then taking a deep breath, he timidly continued, “Listen, y/n... I know you’ve started something with Kniesy, and... that you’re happy, but... I’ve come to realise that lately, I’ve just been missing you a lot, and, I know, it’s a pretty mad and shitty thing to do, but... I just know that I really like you - and I’d hate myself if I didn’t tell you that… I guess I’m sort of... maybe, in love or something…” William released a heavy sigh of relief. “I’m not trying to come between you two, but... at least now you know... sorry.”

You couldn’t believe it. Was he truly serious right now? Just when you were finally making an effort to move on from him, to try and bury the wonderful moments you’d shared, he drops this bombshell.

Lost for words, your eyes nearly glistened as your mind waged an internal battle between wanting to punch him and wanting to kiss him. But instead, you remained still, managing only a soft voice.

“Yeah... this is a pretty shitty thing to do, Willy,” you said, mustering half a smile. “Where was all of this last year?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his apology sincere. “I guess I was just so focused on hockey that... I didn’t want to risk, you know, feelings messing with it…” he admitted with another sigh. “But as it turns out, they did anyway... and now I fear I’ve lost you for good.”

You had to swallow hard as you noticed the sincerity in his eyes, and you couldn’t deny that his words made your heart sink in your chest. Taking a deep breath, you tried to find the best words to navigate this difficult situation.

“Willy, you could never lose me for good,” you whispered. “But... I didn’t need to see you with someone else to know I liked you... and now, I’m just worried that the only reason you feel this way is because of Kniesy…”

A part of you resisted believing that this was true, but you’d been hurt enough times before to know this seemed like the most likely explanation.

“Y/n, I swear... I mean, seeing you with him did make me realise it, but…” William struggled to find the right words. “It’s not about him... it’s about you. And the other night, when you called me because you were scared... it just hit me how much you really mean to me… But if you say you don’t feel anything for me and you want me to stay away…. Then I promise I will…”

Once again, you found yourself unable to reply, your breath caught in your throat as he left you breathless. His hold over you was a mystery, and you knew he was tearing you apart. Yet, your heart raced as his mesmerising eyes locked with yours and his smile erased all logic in an instant.

“Anyway… I just, uh... I guess I just wanted to tell you that… so, I’ll see you around…”

And with that, he left you in turmoil, your thoughts swirling as you remained breathless and undone. “Fuck...” you muttered under your breath as you watched him casually stroll away with his doodles by his side.

William Nylander had you completely captivated, and no amount of work could distract you from thoughts of him. His name and face seemed to follow you everywhere, whether on the street, social media, or the radio. And it made sense—he was a hockey star in Toronto, having one of the best seasons of his career, and naturally, he was receiving all the attention he deserved.

And every time you caught sight of his handsome Swedish face; a quiet ‘fuck’ would escape your lips.

But what truly caused the ache was the fact that your heart was torn in two, and you knew you had to confront it. Ignoring it wouldn't make it disappear, especially since both William and Matthew were part of your inner circle of friends, and you would soon see them both again.

And with the playoffs drawing nearer, the players' focus would soon be solely on that, and for good reason. While they had almost secured their spot to advance, the real challenge lay ahead.

So, as you headed to Matthew’s apartment on a fateful Friday evening for a casual dinner and a movie, your hidden agenda was to resolve things. At least within yourself. You knew you had feelings for him, but a part of you couldn’t let go of William either, and you didn’t want to be unfair to Matthew. In your mind, he deserved only the best, and right now, you couldn’t provide that.

“Hey,” he greeted you with a broad smile as he opened the front door, and immediately, you couldn’t help but return the smile. Despite rehearsing how you would approach the situation on your way there, he completely flipped the script as you stepped into his cosy apartment and saw that he had already prepared, or attempted to prepare, dinner. The dining table was set with a cloth and fake candle lights, almost like the most romantic gesture a man had ever made for you. And your heart swelled in that moment.

“Matts…” you breathed softly, wide-eyed, and breathless as you stood frozen in place. “You didn’t have to do this…”

You were taken aback. He was being so sweet that suddenly, all the rational thoughts about ending things slowly faded into the background of your mind.

“I know I didn’t…” Matthew chuckled lightly as he came to stand gently behind you, softly caressing your arms as he smoothly helped you out of your coat. “But I wanted to.”

Matthew Knies wasn’t particularly an expert about romance. In fact, he was a rather typical young boyish lad, with hockey and hanging out with his teammates occupying his thoughts. However, ever since you’d entered the picture, a small part of him wanted to explore the realm of romance. You seemed more mature, with your life seemingly in order and possessing a strong mind - and he wanted to impress you.

So, drawing from his limited experience in past relationships, he saw the chance to woo you in a way he believed William wouldn’t. Recognising that his Swedish teammate had already captured your affection with his sexual talents, charming personality, and grounded demeanour, Matthew decided to take a different approach. He thought that his own mix of youthful innocence yet mature demeanour could work in his favour—romantic gestures with a hint of flirtation.

And it was working.

As the evening slowly unfolded, you found yourself swiftly enchanted by Matthew's charm as you savoured the delightful dinner. Sure, perhaps the culinary skills could have been improved, but that wasn’t the crux of the matter. The important part of the evening lay in the effort Matthew had invested in it all.

And soon, both of you were immersed in hearty laughter, exchanging jokes and interests as you had done countless times before. In that very moment, he was the most important person in your life—someone with whom you could truly be yourself and unwind. His company required little social energy, and it suited you perfectly.

However, as you finished dining and began to clear the table together, what should have been a simple and innocent task took on a more sensual tone. With gentle touches as you manoeuvred around the small kitchen, occasionally brushing against each other and sharing giggles, it was inevitable that the movie night would carry a certain level of sexual tension.

You tried to maintain your composure, really, you did. However, as Matthew tenderly enveloped you in his strong arm, drawing you nearer to his large, comforting frame while lounging on the sofa, you couldn’t resist the yearning inside you.

The memory of the pleasurable sensation of his lips was all too vivid, and soon enough, you found yourself back in his embrace, your mouths meeting as your fingers tangled in his hair and your tongues intertwined.

It was intense and brimming with desire as you straddled his lap, your body moving against his in a sensual rhythm as his hands explored your form.

Matthew was undeniably attractive, that much was certain. But this wasn’t part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to feel this exhilarated with his chest against yours, your hips moving against him as if your primal instincts had taken control.

No, you were supposed to end things. To explain to him that he deserved someone fully committed to him, not torn in two.

Yet, as you delved deeper into the passionate kiss, there was no room for such thoughts.

Instead, you were consumed by pleasure, gripping his brown locks tighter as he nibbled your lower lip and sighed softly into the kiss.

To be fair, this hadn’t been Matthew’s plan either. He had simply wanted to impress you with a romantic dinner. Yet he didn’t exactly protest when he felt you responding to him. In fact, he felt rather pleased about it, sensing your longing for him as much as he longed for you. Perhaps he had secretly hoped for this to happen, yet he didn’t want to get his hopes up too high, knowing you still had feelings for someone else.

But the moment your lips were locked in a passionate kiss, Matthew’s worries about William faded into insignificance, and his sole desire was for you.

The sensation of your body pressed against his surpassed anything he had imagined. And though he had experienced a glimpse of it before, tonight, he yearned for more, his hard member, evident in the bulge in his trousers, betrayed his most fervent desires.

The small living room was growing warmer with each passing moment, almost overwhelming you as your body yearned for more than just his lips. And when you finally pulled apart to catch your breath, your eyes locked in a lustful gaze, both exhaling deeply as you contemplated what would happen next.

You couldn’t resist the pull towards him. With your core throbbing between your legs and feeling his bulge pressing against you, you lacked the willpower to resist the situation.

And while Matthew took a moment to think it over as well before proceeding, there was no doubt about his desires.

So, summoning the courage, he had gathered from their romantic dinner, he gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear as he spoke softly.

“Want to… go upstairs?”

His voice remained steady, devoid of any trace of insecurity, which only fuelled your desire for him. And with a soft smile and a teasing bite to your lower lip, you nodded, encouraging him to effortlessly lift you into his arms and carry you upstairs to his bedroom.

The touch of the younger hockey player was nothing short of exquisite. The way his lips lingered on yours as he eased you onto the mattress was pure bliss. His hands on your curves were both firm and gentle as he explored every contour, slowly undressing you.

In return, you took the initiative to remove his t-shirt, unbuckle his belt, and slide down his jeans. Matthew's physique was simply impressive. His toned torso resembled that of a Greek god, with broad shoulders and hips that were nothing short of captivating.

Likewise, he admired your body as you lounged before him in your underwear. The light blue lace complemented your skin beautifully, while your bra provided just the right amount of support without distorting the natural size of your breasts. Your hips formed a graceful curve, your thighs exuding strength. And as his gaze devoured every inch of you, he couldn't help but lick his lips in anticipation.

Then with a playful smirk, Matthew leaned in for a quick kiss before kneeling back and slowly pulling down your panties, revealing your core to him. And it was a delightful surprise for him to feel your wetness, as he wasted no time in stroking his thick fingers along your folds, preparing you for the pleasure to come.

And it felt good. A soft gasp then escaped your lips as Matthew allowed his fingers to gently penetrate you, stretching you slowly, while your toes curled into the sheets beneath you, and soft moans spilled from your lips as ecstasy washed over you.

The hockey player was utterly captivated by the array of expressions crossing your face as he skilfully massaged your inner walls, surprised by how much pleasure it brought him to please you. Yet, beneath it all, he felt a deeper longing to feel his own length buried within you. The mere sensation of his fingers enveloped by your tightness and warmth caused him to already drip with pre-cum in his boxers. So, with gentle care, he withdrew his fingers before discarding his final piece of clothing.

Matthew was a big boy, much as you had anticipated even before seeing him naked. And as you saw his long and thick member, hard and proud, you were relieved he had used his fingers first. In comparison to William, his proportions were likely similar in scale, but Matthew stood a little taller and broader, so his member naturally slightly larger.

Then rising from the mattress, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him as he carefully rolled a condom onto his shaft, your anticipation nearly palpable as you longed to be filled and stimulated. And fortunately, you didn’t have to wait long.

Drawing you into another kiss, Matthew reignited the fire between you, gently parting your legs as he removed your bra, his hands tenderly exploring your rounded breasts. Meanwhile, your fingers threaded through his hair as you pulled him in for a deeper kiss, the mutual longing for the final act palpable between you.

And then, a surge of confidence coursed through you. Biting his lip, you signalled for him to lie back, to which he complied. You weren’t typically the dominant type in bed, but given that Matthew entirely wasn’t either, at least not with you, you seized the opportunity to take control.

So, straddling his hips, you gently guided his cock between your folds, riding it a few times while supporting yourself on his chest. Then, with careful precision, you positioned the tip at your entrance and pressed it in slowly. Gasping, you allowed him to stretch you as you relied on your legs for support, sinking down a little before rising back up, repeating the motion until he was fully inside you.

“Oh, fuck, Matts,” you cried as he filled you completely. He was definitely bigger than William, although lacking the slight curve that would hit your sensitive spot every time.

But as soon as you had adjusted to his size, you gently began to rock your hips, his shaft sliding in and out of your moist cunt with each sensual movement.

Moans filled the room as pleasure engulfed both of you, Matthew's hands finding your hips for support as your tightness brought him a little closer to climax sooner than he expected. But he couldn’t resist the intense sensations. You felt incredible around him, and the faster you rode him, the louder his moans grew, and the nearer he came to the edge.

And it was gratifying to watch him pant beneath you, his eyes occasionally fluttering shut and his breath erratic as he struggled to maintain composure. You sensed his climax approaching, mirroring the impending arrival of your own.

So, with the orgasm building in your stomach, you increased your pace, your fingers digging into his chest while your breaths mimicked his—panting and gasping in unison.

Though it didn’t flow as smoothly and naturally as it had with William, it was still pleasurable. Matthew felt good inside you, and his physique was impressive. Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. With William, there had been a sense of fluidity, effortlessly moving around and smiling as he brought you to climax.

With Matthew, it required more effort. You had to focus on riding him and bringing yourself closer to orgasm. Even his thumb on your clit didn’t quite get you there, and after a short while, you started to worry that you wouldn’t reach the peak you desired.

However, everything changed when Matthew grew more eager, suddenly flipping you over into missionary position. With his hands on either side of your head, he picked up a faster and harder pace, thrusting into you deeply.

And at this point, the intensity was overwhelming. His large cock overstimulated your walls as he pounded into you with quick and passionate motions. Your hands instinctively grasped the back of his shoulders, your legs wrapping around his lower back as euphoria consumed you entirely. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head, your nails digging deep into his shoulder blades as your climax now quickly approached.

It was more fervent and eager than it had been with William, perhaps a bit less refined compared to the older hockey player's skill and experience, yet it felt surprisingly satisfying. Your moans were loud cries mixed with whines of pleasure, and you found your fingers digging deeper than you intended.

But in that moment, neither of you cared. Matthew's mind was entirely consumed by the intensity of the moment, his deep gasps punctuating each eager thrust as he knew he was nearing climax. Despite his desire for a more romantic encounter, your tightness around him was too much to resist.

And with a few final hard pounds, he let out a deep grunt as he released himself, thrusting one last time and pushing you over the edge as well. Loud moans, almost screams, filled the room as both of you reached your peaks, yet the rush of orgasm didn’t linger as long as it had after your encounters with William.

Stop it, you reminded yourself. You couldn’t keep comparing the two.

You had to push every thought of William out of your head as you slowly came down from the high, your mind emerging from the blur as Matthew gently withdrew from you. And despite feeling a twinge of guilt when Matthew returned from the bathroom and pulled you in for a cuddle on the warm, steamed mattress, you pushed it aside.

The fervent and intense sex had shifted back to the romantic and sweet atmosphere that had characterised the beginning of your evening, with Matthew turning to face you, gently stroking your features as he admired your beauty.

Lying on your sides, you let the soft moment linger, the scent of sweat and sex filling the bedroom as you simply enjoyed his tender touches and the comforting atmosphere. And though you had briefly felt guilty, Matthew had a knack for washing away all concerns. In his arms, you felt safe and content, and there was no reason to feel guilty about that. Especially not considering the outcome of your casual relationship with William Nylander, who, for the record, had been the one to avoid any progression into a more serious relationship, and then had the audacity to confess his feelings for you months later, when it was too late.

No, Matthew Knies was different. He was sweet, kind, gentle, and caring. He showed his emotions openly, despite the looming playoffs. He wasn’t afraid of love like William had been, and since you weren’t either, being with him felt incredibly fulfilling.

It should have been a no-brainer.

Matthew embodied everything desirable in a potential partner, despite his younger age. While he may have been slightly less mature, it wasn’t as pronounced as many would assume.

But William had left his mark on you so deeply. It felt as if he had poisoned your mind and heart, his influence spreading through your veins like venom. So, despite the comfort and warmth Matthew provided, you chose not to stay the night after your intimacy, as you reasoned with an early morning and the need for him to focus on the upcoming game. And though being with him felt incredible, you had to admit to yourself that your heart still wasn’t fully committed.

Naturally, he was disappointed, but he understood your reasoning. Part of him knew that the rational and sensible choice would be to let you go and simply focus on hockey and his career. Yet, as you left his apartment, a sense of emptiness lingered. It felt as though you were the missing piece in his otherwise hectic yet successful life.

As the morning skate approached, Matthew felt like a renewed person. The night with you had been nothing short of wonderful, and as he prepared for the game day, he couldn’t help but smile.

Matthew understood that you weren’t completely devoted to him, at least not yet. However, he was confident that you felt something for him, something deep and profound. In the time he had spent getting to know you, he had learned that you weren’t malicious or intentionally trying to hurt him. You were simply torn between two men you cared for deeply, unable to make a choice.

And he tried to empathise with your dilemma. While he wished you would declare that you had forgotten about his Swedish teammate, he recognised that pressuring you to make a decision would only exacerbate the situation. So, for now, he accepted the situation as it was. Even as he arrived at the training centre, his lips still curved in happiness, and his demeanour did not go unnoticed by his teammates.

“Woohooo,” Auston whistled. “You seem a little too happy over there, Kniesy!”

“What’s brought such a smile to your handsome face?” Gio added, joining in the laughter.

“Or more like who?” Max chimed in with a grin.

It was nothing but the typical banter among teammates that filled the locker room as they all undressed to change into their gear. However, something more profound caught their attention this time, prompting a need for answers.

"Whoa, hold up there, beasty!" Auston nearly shouted, noticing the scratch marks on his fellow Arizona teammate's back. "Who the fuck has been doing some artwork on you?"

"And more importantly," Max chuckled deeply, "what did you do to deserve it?"

Dark chuckles filled the room as more players gathered to admire the nail scratches left from your intense night with the forward the night before.

"Looks like someone got laid last night!" Reaves added with a loud, deep grin. "And who's the lucky girl?"

"Or guy?" Mitch playfully joked.

Matthew took a small breath, glancing over to the empty stall where William would have been sitting if he hadn't been perpetually late, before deciding to speak up. "Her name is y/n," he spoke proudly, perhaps slightly boasting, though it lacked the same satisfaction without William in the room.

"Wait, you mean Willy's y/n?" Auston raised a brow, a light grin playing on his lips.

"Well..." Matthew began to respond, but then Max interjected.

"Oh, she's not Willy's girl anymore, man! Did you see those marks? Seems like our freshman here really showed her what a real man can do!"

Matthew felt a twinge of embarrassment at the words, but it was quickly overshadowed by the pride he felt. He had given you a good time, and the marks you left showcased the pleasure he had provided you.

And he couldn’t help it as his eyes gleamed with pride and he chuckled along with the other players. However, as the door then swung open, the laughter faded into a subdued murmur as William walked in, fashionably late as usual.

"What?" he asked, noticing the not-so-subtle change in atmosphere.

But the boys simply muttered 'nothing' before returning to gearing up for practice before the crucial match. They all sensed it was better to keep things low-key before the match that could either propel them into the playoffs or have them fighting for a few more games.

And it almost worked, until the practice games had William and Matthew facing off on opposite teams.

Initially, it hadn’t been a problem. William had resolved to act maturely about the situation, acknowledging his own villain role in it and allowing you to make your own decisions about how you felt toward each of them.

But as training progressed and he and Matthew found themselves in continuous physical battles on the ice, tension began to mount. What started as friendly hockey banter, suddenly changed when Max couldn't keep his mouth shut, and the atmosphere shifted.

"Looks like Kniesy isn’t just stealing Willy’s girl – he’s also beating his ass on the ice!"

Those words set William's mind spinning. What did Max mean by that?

Yet trying to shake it off, the Swedish forward focused on the training match, but to his frustration, he missed a crucial opportunity for a goal.

“Fucking hell!” he shouted loudly, banging his stick against the boards in frustration.

“Hey,” Auston came over, lightly chuckling. “Just because Kniesy’s sleeping with your girl, you don’t need to take it out on your stick, man.”

It was meant to be nothing but a playful remark, a joke among teammates, but William didn’t find it amusing at all.

“What did you just say?” he asked with a serious tone, more serious than Auston had expected.

"We- well… you know… Kniesy and y/n…" Auston stuttered, realising he might have just sparked something more serious.

“They what?” William asked again, his tone stern as his eyes fixed on the smiling freshman on the ice.

Matthew hadn’t intended to taunt William about his success in winning over a girl, but as the Swede took to the ice once more, an urge within him rose to showcase his newfound confidence and dominance.

As the two players were positioned in front of each other, they were ready to face off. And that's when William couldn’t maintain his composure any longer.

“You slept with her?” His eyes bore deeply into his teammate's, who simply nodded.

“Last night,” Matthew confirmed, prompting William to nod, his throat tightening as he imagined his teammate's hands on you.

“Hmm…” he muttered under his breath, unsure of how to react.

But before he could respond further, Matthew, perhaps emboldened by his newfound confidence, spoke again. “Guess I won her after all.”

And those were the wrong words to utter in William’s presence. Straightening his back, he halted the game and skated closely to Matthew’s face. “She’s not a prize to be won.”

The Swede asserted his dominance over his teammate, causing everyone to pause and observe the unfolding confrontation.

“Come on, Willy,” Matthew huffed, giving his shorter teammate a little push. “You’re just angry because you were the one who treated her like shit... and now she doesn’t want to be with you.”

“Fuck you, Kniesy!” William shot back, but Matthew was ready to defend himself.

“Oh yeah? Well, she did!”

And this had William push back, both physically and verbally, relinquishing the control he had been determined to maintain.

“Well, at least I know I won’t always be her second choice!”

What transpired between the first punch and the two boys ending up in the locker room with ice packs on their faces and towels containing the blood streaming from their noses was a blur to most. It happened so quickly, both players taking swings at each other in a fight far more intense and serious than any on-ice altercation. The coaches naturally intervened, while Tavares and Morgan pulled them apart, and with Reaves and other players chuckling in the background.

It was a coincidence that you had been nearby, as Stephanie had invited you to join her and some of the girls for preparations in case the Leafs continued into the playoffs. But the joy you had felt among the girls froze when you heard what had happened at training, prompting you to swiftly make your way to the Ford Performance Center.

Walking through the halls, your heart pounded in your chest, uncertain of what to expect when you faced the two boys who had torn your heart in two and claimed a part each.

And as you entered the locker room, you couldn't help but mutter, "Shit…" under your breath. Yet, other than your soft curse, there was silence. The tension filled the air as the three of you stood and sat frozen, no one wanting to take the first step and potentially worsen the situation.

It was as if all three of you were silently expressing the guilt you felt toward one another.

William for dismissing you and then trying to reclaim your deep feelings for him and acting aggressively toward his teammate.

Matthew for attempting to win you over despite knowing your feelings for his teammate, and then wanting to boast about his success.

And you, for leading Matthew on while being unable to let go of William, unwilling to accept that Matthew might be the better choice, yet not fully believing it, as William still held a grip on your heart.

It was anything but an easy situation. And sensing your inner panic, the turmoil you were feeling as he saw your concerned expression shifting between him and his teammate, William chose to be the one to act.

Rising from his seat, the Swede let out a deep sigh, his eyes meeting yours in a heartfelt gaze. And without a word, he decided to be the one to walk away. He didn’t want to be the cause of your pain anymore, so he stepped down.

“Willy…” you softly gasped as your heart felt like it was being ripped out of your chest, a tear forming in the corner of your eye as you followed his movement.

You were on the verge of breaking, tears pressing on, yet you managed to focus on controlling your breathing. In the corner of your eye, you noticed Matthew’s intense stare as he watched your reaction, curious to see whether you would stop William or let him go.

And as it turned out, William walked out of the locker room, leaving you alone with Matthew.

Your heart pounded faster than ever before; palms sweaty as a tear trailed down your cheek. Breathing felt almost impossible in the moment, and your mind, soul, and body felt torn apart. You had never expected a heartbreak to hurt this much, and never had you expected it would be William to be the one to cause it.

The air felt thick, and though a small part of you felt relieved that now you didn’t have to make the hard choice between them, another part didn’t want that to be the case. So, without even consciously acknowledging your next move, you suddenly found yourself moving out of your frozen position and making your way with fast steps out of the locker room, following William.

“Willy, wait!” you heard yourself shout. But he didn’t stop. Instead, he just kept on walking, so you picked up your pace. “Willy, please!”

“What for?” he suddenly responded, halting in the middle of the corridor as he turned to face you. He didn’t shout, yet his facial expression conveyed signs of defeat and hurt.

“Because I don’t want you to leave…” you tried to argue, but it came out vague.

“Of course, you do, y/n… you can’t choose between me and Kniesy, so I’m deciding for you…”

“Willy,” you softly cried. “Please don’t do this…”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re too important to me…”

“That’s not enough, y/n… I promised I’d stay away if you didn’t feel anything for me, so that’s what I’m doing…”

You held your breath for a moment, torn between your emotions and rationality. “But I do feel something for you, Willy…” you admitted softly under your breath.

And in a swift motion, William's hands cupped your face, as he pressed his lips onto yours.

It was the familiar warmth coursing through your body as you felt his touch once again. The intoxicating sensation had your mind in bliss as his mouth melted with yours, lips moving in perfect sync as your hands instinctively reached to palm his chest.

Time seemed to stand still. The world stopped turning as you connected with the one who had captured your heart from the start. And though a part of you wanted to feel guilty for leaving Matthew in the locker room, it slowly washed away under William’s touch.

And as you then pulled apart to catch your breath, you shared a tender moment of gazing into each other's eyes. William's thumb gently wiped away the tear that trailed down your cheek before you managed to flash him a timid and soft smile.

“Please don’t leave…” you whispered.

“I won’t…” he spoke gently in return.

There was another moment of silence as you stayed connected.

“I’m so sorry, Willy…”

“I know,” he simply responded, gently placing a kiss on your forehead before pulling you into a tight hug. Your body immediately responded to his, wrapping your arms around his warm body as you relished your re-found connection.

“I’m in love with you…” you sobbed into his shirt, tightening your arms around him.

William let out a deep sigh as he held you close, finally feeling the happiness that only you could bring him. But then, pulling back slightly, he looked down at you with a soft, concerned expression.

“But you’re in love with him too…” he stated softly, finally acknowledging the truth of the situation.

And you could only nod in response. “I am…”

#william nylander x matthew knies x reader #wn88 imagine #william nylander imagine #matthew knies imagine #william nylander smut #toronto maple leafs fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey imagine #nhl hockey smut

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telleroftime · 2 years ago

Text

Little Melody ||| Bowser x Reader

King Bowser struggles with a certain part of a composition when playing on his piano. You, his captive, chime in with a chord suggestion that ends up working.

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Pairing: Bowser x Gender Neutral ! Reader

Relationship: Platonic

Tone: Gen

Word Count: 2.8k

Bowser Masterlist

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Being held captive for ransom was certainly an experience, especially when the person kidnapping you was most definitely not penurious.

From the towering doors edged with polished silver - the surface of which was decorated with engravings depicting bones and beasts and fire - to the cascading walls of glowing lava that had to be suspended using tedious magic, the castle you were taken into was truly quite fascinating. The architecture was different from your home, making you feel like a helpless little mouse trapped in a giant's den instead of a spark of musical might that kept you alive. Everything was plus sized. The ceilings reached too high. The corridors were too long. But there was less fear behind the anxiety blooming in your chest and more so a sense of wonder. This place was different, inspiring almost.

And, if the outward appearance wasn't enough to settle that, the stark disparity between court ethics made the slight culture shock that more obvious. There were no ladies in elegant garb wandering in search of rich lords and famous musicians. The castle staff was kept to a minimum of a few Shy Guys dusting random corners instead of bustling maids and palace servants. There were no princes or princesses causing immediate havok amongst the stationed guards. The court was quiet. Too quiet.

It was a silence that did not falter even as you were led towards the throne room during your first few days there. You could remember the sound of your dark chains as they clanged against one another, their heavy alloy creating minimal discomfort, surprisingly not irritating the skin of your wrists at all. With the two magikoopas keeping you walking - one in front and one behind - you had to steel yourself before you could actually come face to face with your kidnapper.

Your steps echoed loudly down the halls. One step after the other, like walking to the set rushed pace of a metronome, you forced yourself to remain confident. You were more than aware of the hanging cages decorating the more fortress-like areas; the skeletons brushed to the side were not that far out of view.

Scratches disrupted the perfect surface of the rock below your feet, telling tales of struggles that were overshadowed by the huge statues of a giant beast. You remembered how the stone was cut, chiseled with finesse to mimic the shapes of a raging monster. The pointy teeth. The sharp claws. The horns of a bull curling up like a laurel wreath. Even then, when looking at the hovering black flags that wore the emblem of this foreign kingdom, you had pieced together that the statues must have depicted the king himself.

You were right.

At first, when standing in front of his throne and having to crane your neck up to witness the true potency of his glower, you had hoped you could reason with His Majesty, King Bowser. You wanted to plead your case. You wanted to reason that this was all a misunderstanding. It was all a wreck of a symphony that could yet be fixed. However, with an arrogant upturn of his snout and the flick of his decorated wrist, you were quick to realise it was all just wishful thinking.

For the first few days trapped in this unknown world, you were kept locked within the dungeons. You were given a simple cot, the pillows flat and uncomfortable and not at all what you were used to back at home. The food was given to you as tasteless, uninspiring mush. The only light you were allowed was the dull glow of fire that filtered through the iron bars. You were held like a convict within the small cell.

All until you weren’t. The cold stone slabs turned to polished wood. The rationed prison food turned to exquisite three course meals. Instead of the now-dirty clothes you wore when you were taken in, you had been dressed in white fabric, edges of the garments trimmed and lined with colours of flames and gemstones mimicking the glimmer of embers. You don't know what brought about the change. Maybe the people of your home agreed to the king's conditions. Maybe the giant koopa had a change of heart. Whatever it was was definitely not to your benefit when you were placed in a large, golden cage beside the king himself.

Despite your voiced complaints and near constant nagging, the king insisted on having you dragged after him. You dined with him. You sat idly next to him as he slouched back on his throne. You were trapped in every sense of the word, stuck in a cage like a little, doomed songbird. A musician with no thrill and a creator with no hope. The only thing you could do was sit on top of a small bar attached to the base of the platform - a little, worthless bench that allowed you to rock your legs back and forth - with your body leaning forwards on your elbows. Trapped with nothing to do but lazily hum your comfort songs as you daydreamed of home.

However, be that a stroke of luck or of misfortune, your boredom was temporarily sated when you were brought into a large, circular space surrounded by a glow of thick, molten lava. It was a new place, and now the heat of the glowing walls caused your palms to sweat and your skin to sparkle with moisture. It was arid, but not entirely unbreathable.

The king placed your cage down on a small stool next to a black coloured grand piano, the plaque reading 'Ludwig Von Koopa' informing you of the brand, and sat himself positively on the cushioned chair. Confidently, his claw pressed the first key.

You're guilty to admit that you would have never expected the large koopa, let alone your beast of an impolite kidnapper, to be able to play on such a fine instrument. It was tuned perfectly, the sounds echoing within the body with beautiful resonance. The king's claws glided against the keys with a practiced precision you couldn’t help but observe. With each note he played, his face of concentration morphed to fit the sound. It pulled and it twisted as if you were not there, passion for the craft evident even in the way he closed his eyes. He leaned his body in when the tune demanded a longer sound, and swayed backwards for the faster notes.

You gawked at him, your silhouette still as you simply watched him play. At first, you were certain that you recognised the chord progression. You thought you knew the melody, the kingdom you were from known mainly for its involvement in the evolution of music. However, you refused to be vain enough to say for certain. In some places it sounded familiar, though that was common within many compositions. In other parts the melody sounded original. It was unlike anything you have ever heard before, and it was something that would have never reached the shores of your homeland. It sounded like something born to this room, and the flex and twitch of the king's arms showed the truth to that.

You watched as his brows furrowed, then relaxed. Then they furrowed again, and His Majesty's playing took a pause.

One try after the next, King Bowser played and replayed a certain part of the melody. The composition was unfinished from the looks of it, and you readjusted your spot on the metal bar. You heard him huff as he glanced at your movement, but other than that he ignored it in favour of the piano.

Playing for a minute, he stumbled, then he tried again. Each time he started from the same bar, giving himself room to think. He tried, and failed. He tried, and failed again. After about the fifth time, your eyes flitted away from his general figure and turned instead to the entrance of the room. You stared blankly at the door, eyes unfocused slightly as you listened to him play.

F major seven, G major, F minor. You knew those chords, recognising them as they rang in the background of the sound. Then, the king faltered, the misplay making the piano ring an off tuned sound. A broken noise.

Turning your focus back to the koopa, you noticed the angle of his face no longer flowed with the wave of musical passion. You saw him bare his sharp teeth in anger, the smug grin from his confident playing wiped clean off his snout. His claws hovered with a twitchy tension above the monochrome keys as if he didn't wish to inflict the aftermath of his rage onto the instrument. His eyes twitched as his bushy red brows furrowed in spiteful annoyance, following a distinct streak of black smoke that pushed itself out of his nostrils.

Blinking, you turned your gaze forward to think again. F major seven. G major. F minor… and then another misplayed key that sent a growl echoing into the silence of the room that fought against the popping sound of lava. F minor… but what if…

"Try A-Sharp minor," you chirped, leaning your body forward on the hard seat as you looked up at him expectantly. His attention turned away from the piano, his head tilting up slightly so that he could more strongly look down at you.

Instead of the friendly acknowledgment you would have hoped for, the king gave you silence. His eyes were sharp and narrow, cast in a fiery glow that made his frown appear shadowed and menacing and arrogant. The look made you slouch back in your seat, watching as he huffed out yet another cloud of ash. This time you could taste the sulphur on the base of your tongue. "Be quiet," he instructed, turning his head back to the piano with an irritated swing of his tail. You watched as his hands clenched and unclenched above the keys.

"I'm only trying to help you-"

He snarled, the sound deep and guttural, causing your mouth to shut in an instant. It was a wordless instruction that made you cross your arms.

Sitting up straight, you grumpily turned your body away from him as an act of small rebellion. Your features lay low on your face then, a small pout twisting your lips. Though you refused to look back, you could feel his eyes on you as the silence hung like thick goo between the two of you. Then you heard him shuffle and you relaxed at the tentative press of one of the keys. The king went back to playing.

Starting from the very beginning, you closed your eyes as you let the sour taste of tension dissipate with the sound of the notes. You were lost in the sound of the piano, only hearing the sound of King Bowser's breathing whenever a pop of lava snapped you back to reality. Any stolen glances you permitted yourself revealed not a face of anger, but instead one of contemplative concentration that did not affect the quality of the piece. He wordlessly continued, note after note, chord after chord, until he returned to the end of the section.

The first chord sounded. Then the second. Then the third. You were certain that he would hesitate again, but to your surprise he played your suggestion, minimally delaying to play the starting chord again. A minute or two passed as the giant koopa finished with the piece. Then he stopped and you opened your eyes.

Slowly, his eyes scrolled to meet yours, brows raised lightly with his lips parted. He stared at you with those brutal red eyes, his hands playing the chord again, and again, and again causing you to shrug. Letting his features relax, it was as if the aimed annoyance had completely dissipated from his body.

"I wasn’t expecting you to actually play it," you mumbled. However, your surprised tone was lost on him as he tilted his head up, side eyeing the piano before looking back at you.

“How’d ya know?”

You hummed, kicking your feet slowly in the air as you balanced on the metal seat. "I thought about it."

Your kicking stopped as a low growl rumbled in his chest, his snout pulling back incredulously, "you saying I didn’t?"

"No," you turned your entire body to face him, stradling the seat to match his show of arrogance, "I'm just saying that I did."

“It doesn’t explain how you knew the chord.”

“It does.”

He grumbled, “does not.”

“Does too.”

Huffing, the king childishly tossed his arms in the air, turning his attention back to the piano with a pout evident on his snout, though he didn't seem to notice, or at least he didn't seem to care. You observed him intently as he froze in his spot, thinking. Then his clawed hands pressured down on the piano in favour of a different tune. It was a lively one, a melody that originally belonged to a much larger, angry symphony. However, when singled out the tune almost sounded happy. Hopeful. It was also a composition that you definitely recognised, and one that King Bowser played with an expert's touch.

Your intrigue had returned, and you subconsciously leaned your body in. It was honestly beautiful. His hands fluttered across the length of the piano. The movements were muscle memory, the skill seemingly engraved into him.

Tilting his head from side to side as if he breathed the music itself, you almost missed the side glances he threw your way. Every once in a while, after every enunciated chord, you saw his downcast, amber gaze turn to you.

Whether it was him showing off once again - probably what the original purpose of coming to this room was - or it was a test, you did not care much. You listened, then you took the bait. You allowed your hands to flow in a familiar motion, as if you held onto a conducting baton. Every other moment, you listed the key or the chord he had played. You saw his fingers twitch at this, but he continued and so did you.

Sometimes he would slow down the tempo, sometimes he would speed it up. Most of the time, throughout the course of the piece, his eyes remained on you, bar from the few glances back at the keys. He played the piece to its end, exhaling a loud breath before his attention turned to you. You were still humming, in your mind finishing the parts that the very much missing ensemble could not. When you looked back at him, his eyes were glowing flames, though it wasn’t in any form of wrath. It was a curiosity, one that silently egged you on.

"I know how to play," you offered with a grin, your finger pointing at the piano through the bars of your cage. However, your hands were quick to dart back to your face to cover your grin. This was your kidnapper. He no doubt wanted to butter you up to use for ransom or he wanted to use you as a tool in a political war… and yet even knowing that fact, the grin refused to leave your face. Especially not after you saw His Majesty gawk at you with a smirk of his own.

He blinked a few times, eyes twitching from you to black shell of the piano. Then they closed, the grin dropping. You waited, and after a moment he opened them again. "Prove it."

Your lips thinned slightly and you tilted your head to the side. You ran your hand down one of the golden bars of the cage, your brows raised, "from in here? Or will you let me out?"

The king huffed then, and just as his lips moved to respond, the doors to the room creaked open and your collective attention turned to the single magikoopa that entered the room. He looked startled and unsure. Frightened almost. It was a dull reminder of who exactly you were sitting with.

"Your Majesty, Kamek requires your presence," the magikoopa said with a prominent waver in their voice.

Poorly masking the forming anger, King Bowser blew out a steam of flames at the unwelcome interruption, standing from the piano stool. His eyes looked to you before he shook his head, once again flicking his wrist with a disinterested persona. "Take them back to their room. Make sure they're fed well."

Your eyes widened, "what? Hey!" But the king ignored you, stomping angrily out of the bright room. He ignored your shouts, and you had to bite your tongue into silence as the mage awkwardly lifted you cage with a mist of purple magic.

Though it had an inconvenient end, that was not the last time you sat in that room.

———————————————

A/N: Get rickrolled all of you.

Bowser Masterlist

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