#hi everyone guess what i just started watching

[lovecla]

FAVORITE KIND OF NIGHT ; HUGHES, SLAFKOVSKÝ

PAIR jack hughes x fem!reader, quinn hughes x fem!reader, juraj slafkovský x fem!reader, ex-cole caufield x fem!reader

SUMMARY when you found out your boyfriend of two years had been cheating on you the entire time, you do what every girl does when they get cheated on: you fuck his best friends.

WORD COUNT 5,5k

WARNINGS taboo content, cheating, foursome (f/m/m/m), p in v, unprotected sex, degradation, mention of stomach bulge, creampie, double p in v, rough sex, manhandling, dirty talk, humiliation, subspace, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), gagging, dacryphilia, brief aftercare.

FROM ME TO YOU my loves, listen to your clara very carefully: if you do not agree with ANY of what’s written here, please consider not reading. this is just a silly idea i had a few days ago and i wanted to write about it. i have zero intentions of offending anyone: this is pure fiction! none of this is real! anyways, thank you @cyberhughes for listening to my naughty thoughts about this plot and for having my back. love you juni baby, this one’s for you <3 and for those who are still here, have a nice reading!

𖧷

on that lonely night, said it wouldn't be love

but we felt the rush (fell in love)

it made us believe it was only us

THE THING about being a hockey girlfriend is that you will, most certainly, get cheated on.

When you first heard that, you thought it was just bullshit— not all men are the same and all of that. Some people were just unfortunate to have shitty boyfriends, but not you.

Or at least that’s what you thought before watching a viral video of your boyfriend of two years kissing three different girls at a party.

The video was blurry, and maybe if you were a little bit more naive, you wouldn’t have noticed that the man eating those girls’ lips was, in fact, Cole Caufield, the man you swore to be the love of your life.

“Maybe it’s not him, Y/n,” your friend said, voice soft and gentle, as she put your phone down and locked it. “Cole wouldn’t do that… right?”

Right, you want to say. Of course he wouldn’t do that.

But you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to lie and betray your own trust. You sat there, on your couch, thinking about what you were going to do.

Your relationship was public, Cole had already posted pictures of you several times over the years, but now, so was the fact that he cheated on you with not just one girl, but with two more.

Now, everyone knows that you got cheated on, and that you weren’t an exception to the Hockey rule.

“‘s okay,” you sniff, cleaning your nose with your sweater’s sleeve. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t, really, but what else could you do?

Truth is, even though you love— loved?— Cole a lot, you had been feeling a little bit weird. Cole didn’t seek you anymore, he didn’t look at you the same way he used to do when you first started dating.

You thought it was just the fact that he was tired and feeling responsible for his team’s recklessness, but clearly, it wasn’t just that.

Days passed after the terrible, awful video, and even though you hadn’t spoken to Cole in probably two weeks— he was away and you couldn’t bring yourself to answer his texts—, you wanted to break things up with him in person.

“Why would you do that?” Your friend asked over the phone, and you sighed.

“Because I’m better than he is,” you say. “And because I need to get closure.”

“I guess you’re right,” she sighs, and then she’s quiet for a few seconds. But, “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” You ask, rolling to your side. “What is it?”

“There’s going to be a party at Zegras’ place tonight,” she says. “Heard Cole shit ass is going.”

“Who told you that?”

“I was talking to one of his new buddies, and he invited me to the party. Said I could go if I kept my mouth shut to you,” she scoffed. “I thought about telling him to hell and then telling him to fuck himself but I thought it might be more useful to pretend I wasn’t going to tell you anything and then tell you everything.”

You chuckled. “Yeah. We’re going, then?”

“We so are going,” she giggles. “I’ll bring the eggs.”

“I’ll bring the flour.”

𖧷

THE PARTY looked more like a frat party than anything, which lowkey disgusted you.

You knew the majority of the players were young and still in their teenager mindset, but whenever you went to a party, it usually had more decorum than whatever this was.

The music was so loud you couldn’t hear your friend talking next to you. People were grinding against each other like they were in heat and ready to fuck in front of everyone, and the room had a strong smell of marijuana and cheap beer.

You rolled your eyes but focused on your reason to be there: find Cole, break up with him and maybe even embarrass him in front of all of his friends.

You tried to warn your friend about where you were going, but since the music was too loud, you just signaled to the door on your right. She nodded, and you moved around the room, feeling with your feet the way the floor shook with the song’s thrumming.

Fortunately, you didn’t have to walk much. Cole’s stupid ass seemed to have forgotten to close his room’s door, and now you were staring at the 5’8” man you thought was going to be the father of your kids, kissing another girl.

“So, this looks really fun, huh?” You said, closing the room’s door, and suddenly, all of the eyes were on you. Cole’s included.

“Y-Y/n, what,” he stutters, removing the girl from his lap and getting up. “What are you doing here, baby?”

“No, what are you doing here?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, feeling yourself start to burn with anger. “Weren’t you supposed to be in New York?”

“No, you see—”

“Is your name New York, sweetie?” You ask the girl who was previously kissing him, who looks like a scared, little kitten. Little does she know you’re not going after her— you couldn't care less about her. “Uh, I guess not.”

There were at least eight other people in the room, sitting there and goofing around. But now, all of them looked like they would pay a hundred thousand bucks not to be in Cole’s shoes.

“Y/n—” he tries again, reaching for your arm.

You step back, flinching away from his touch. “Don’t fucking touch me, Cole. You’re fucking sick. I hope y’all have fun,” you hiss, turning around and heading towards the room’s door again. You look over your shoulder, watching Cole’s sorrowful face. “Enjoy as much as you can, darling. I know his dick won’t make you happy.”

You leave the room with fast steps, not before hearing Cole’s so-called friends laugh out loud with your words. You could feel yourself burning with anger, which made you happy. You thought you were going to feel destroyed, sad and depressed when you confronted him about the fact that he cheated on you regularly.

But after seeing his pathetic expression and actions, you realised you weren’t the one who should be feeling that way.

Your legs were moving on their own, and when you noticed, you were on the second floor, barging in another room, opening its door with full strength.

Only to blush even more, this time not with anger, no.

“Oh, hey there, Y/n. Where’s the fire?”

Jack’s sarcastic tone made you hold the door’s handle tighter, and when you looked around, you felt like a fish out of its tank.

The room was poorly lit, only the yellow light from the lamps reflected on the dark walls of the room, making the environment seem more intimate than it really was.

There were sofas along the room, and low music was playing, probably coming from one of the cell phones.

Because not only Jack Hughes was there, but his oldest brother, Quinn and Juraj Slafkovský.

You didn’t even know Quinn and Jack got along with Slaf, yet there they were, sitting and chatting with each other like they weren’t all rivals during the weekdays.

They laughed with Jack’s little remark before Quinn said: “You can come in, we don’t bite.”

“Unless you want to.” Juraj was the one who said this, to your ultimate surprise, and you rolled your eyes, doing as they said and getting in, closing the door behind you.

“Dude, come on,” Jack laughs. “She has a boyfriend.”

“Not anymore,” you say, for the first time since you opened the door. You eyed the drink cart in the corner of the room, taking full steps towards it and opening the first bottle you say. Whiskey. Great. “I just broke up with Cole, actually.”

There was a second of silence before you heard some clapping behind you, which made you turn around and stare at the grown men sitting across the room.

“What’s this clapping for?” You ask.

“It was about time, Y/n, what the hell,” Juraj says. “Guy’s been cheating on you for months.”

“And you guys didn’t think of, I don’t know, maybe give me a heads up?” You ask, sarcasm pouring out of your mouth while you pour the alcoholic drink in the glass sitting on the wooden surface. Then, you walk until you’re sitting beside Quinn and Juraj. “Would’ve been nice.”

“Sorry,” Quinn says, poking your shoulder. “In my defense, I wasn’t around enough to know he was cheating.”

“In my defense,” Jack starts. “I don’t like him.”

“In my defense,” Juraj finishes, opening his legs and resting his arms behind his head. “I couldn’t do it, because I would’ve been called a homewrecker.”

You almost choked on your drink. “What?!”

“You know I’ve been wanting to fuck you for ages now,” he sighs, like he’s tired of saying that; like he’s been saying that for a long time now. “But you can’t exactly fuck your homie’s girlfriend, can you?”

“Word.” Jack says, leaning forward to fist bumping Juraj. Quinn only chuckles and you can’t believe your eyes.

You’ve known all of them for basically the same amount of time, and you liked them a lot. Jack was a little, teasing shit, way too different from Quinn, but he was funny and so were his brothers— hanging out with them was always fun.

Quinn was private but sweet, probably one of your favorite people in the league. His soft spoken demeanor had made its way into your heart and was now stuck there, for the rest of your life, probably.

And Juraj was an old friend, someone you knew even before you started dating Cole— he was the reason you and Cole got together in the first place.

So hearing that one of your closest friends wants to have sex with you is weird, especially because he had just confessed that in front of two other men.

You stare at them, incredulous. “What are you even talking about?”

“Come on, Y/n, you can’t be this oblivious,” Jack grunts, and you tilt your head, confused. “You didn’t notice the way he looks at you?”

“Fuck you, Hughes,” Slaf curses, giving him the middle finger. “Like you’re one to talk. Everyone knows you’re head over heels for her and you know which head I’m talking about.”

Quinn laughs like what Slaf said had been the funniest thing he’d heard in a while, while Jack simply shrugs and looks at you with expectant eyes.

“You are all drunk. That’s the only explanation I can find,” you say, still choosing not to see what is right in front of you. “And I’m about to be the next one.”

You took just one sip before Quinn wrapped his hand around your glass and took it out of your hands. You were about to complain and ask him what happened when he shook his head, clicking his tongue. “We are not drunk, Y/n. And we don’t want you to be.”

“What? Why not?” You ask. “I promise I’m not that type of person who talks about their love life when they’re drunk. I might talk about Tik Tok memes, though.”

“That’s worse than talking about your shit ass love life,” Jack murmurs and you turn around to look at him with angry eyes. “What?” He asks, grinning, with his hands in the air.

“It’s not my fault I can’t find the right guys,” you sigh, resting your head on Quinn’s shoulder like you’re used to doing. “Why do men suck?”

“Not all of them do, sweets.” Quinn says, placing his hand on your naked thigh, making you blush faintly.

“We don’t.” Juraj murmurs beside you, and you hum.

“Well,” you say, measuring your words. “Unfortunately, I can’t have any of you. So, yeah, I still have the same problem.”

“Who said you can’t have any of us?” Juraj says, and you lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows at him. “Or even better, all of us.”

There’s a beat of silence. The room is suddenly too warm for you, and even if you’re just wearing a skirt and a crop top, you still feel yourself starting to get sweaty.

The song is still playing, an unknown melody reverberating through the room, and what once felt big and spacious suffocates you now.

“You guys. You can’t be serious… right?” You ask, looking at each and every single one of them in the eye.

Jack is the first one to break the silence. “Come on, Y/n. Haven’t you ever thought about us like that?”

You can feel their eyes on you as you think of what to answer. You can’t say you haven’t— that would be a lie. You were loyal to Cole and you loved him, but you weren’t blind.

And now that you’re really thinking, these guys hadn’t been particularly sleek either; Jack with his obsession with calling you pet names, Quinn finding any and every excuse to touch you whenever you were in the same room and Juraj eye-fucking you from afar while you cuddled with his teammate.

So yeah, you have wondered about it before, but it all sounded so insane you didn’t think about it twice. The odds of all four of them liking you were pretty low, so why bother fooling yourself with these kinds of thoughts?

But now, you were sitting in the same room as them, with Juraj’s arm touching yours, Quinn’s hand running up and down your leg, and Jack’s eyes on you, like you were a prey or something similar.

“We can’t do that,” you whisper, trying your hardest to hold onto that single piece of sanity and morals you still had. “You guys are insane. Jack, Quinn’s your brother.” You reason, expecting to knock some sense into them.

Quinn squeezes your thigh slightly. “It wouldn’t be our first time.”

“Besides, it’s fine because we’re not going to fuck each other,” Jack says, like he’s telling you the sky’s blue. “I’m going to fuck you.”

“We are going to fuck you,” Juraj corrects, and you close your eyes, holding your hands together on your lap, trying to keep them still. “What do you say, chéri?” He asks, getting dangerously close to your neck, his strong, masculine scent making your head spin. His lips briefly touch your neck, the contact so light you wouldn’t feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of your surroundings.

Quinn’s warm, big hand is moving up, up and up, and that startles you.

You get up, panting as hard as if you had ran an entire marathon, and you stand in the middle of the room, surrounded by them. By your friends who had just asked to fuck you.

“I can’t— I can’t do this,” you whisper. “What about Cole, what about—”

“Sweetheart, Cole is probably balls deep inside someone else right now,” Quinn replies, and the others hum in agreement. “If you don’t want it because you don’t want to, it’s fine, you know we’d never force you. But,” he spreads his thighs, the outline of his cock is visible and right there for you to see. You gulp, not sure of what to do. “If you don’t want to do it because you still believe Cole deserves your kindness, then I have to say—”

“You’re being dumb,” Juraj finishes Quinn’s sentence, smirking. “You’ll be crying over one small cock when you have three waiting for you. It’s your pick, really.”

Your head is spinning and you feel aware of your body, which is something you hate. You can feel your arms and legs starting to give in, and to your absolute horror and panic, you can feel your underwear start to get sticky.

You walk towards the door, ready to leave, ready to put this night behind and pretend this was all a fever dream, and never think about this again. But, as you grab the handle, you know you won’t be able to forget this, not even if you wanted to.

So, you stop being a hypocrite, and grab the door’s key, locking the door once, and then twice, before exhaling and turning around again.

All three of them are staring at you, with the same expression; lust. It’s sinful and you are certain that you’re going to hell for this, but as you start to get undressed, right there, in the middle of the room, for all of them to see, you can’t help but feel like what you’re doing is nothing but right.

You remove your crop top, pulling the fabric over your head and dropping it on the floor, shivering slightly when the cold breeze hits your naked skin. You do the same with your skirt, letting it fall around your feet like a river, leaving you standing with only your bra and lace underwear in front of them.

“Fuck.” You hear one of them say, you’re not sure who, the word nothing but a whisper.

Juraj is the first one to get up, and get his hands on you. He’s rough, hungry and not careful at all, something you’re not used to but like it anyway.

His lips are on yours almost instantly, and his hands are holding you down while he licks and sucks your mouth. He tastes like some kind of candy you’ve had before, and your brain is screaming that what you’re doing is wrong, so wrong and that you literally just broke up with your boyfriend of two years not even thirty minutes ago but you can’t stop.

It’s maddening, it’s addictive and you want more.

It gets worse when you feel another pair of hands on your back, unclamping your bra. You hear a soft tud, which you can only assume is your bralette hitting the floor. Then, there are hands squeezing your tits, hands almost as rough as Slaf’s, and it has you moaning inside his mouth.

“So fucking soft,” you hear Jack say behind you as he gets closer, his hard dick poking your ass over your underwear. “Tits so fucking soft for us, baby.”

And he pinches both of your nipples, making you whimper loud and separate your lips from Juraj’s. There’s a saliva string connecting both of you and it makes you feel nasty.

He gives you a brief peck before gently slapping your thighs twice, silently asking you to remove your underwear, which you promptly do. You slide your lace panties over your legs, shyly throwing them away from you.

It’s only then that you notice Quinn staring at you from the couch, half naked with his dick out of his boxers— the thought of him getting off only by watching you makes you squeeze your thighs together, to stop your hole from clenching around nothing.

“Let’s get you wet and ready, alright?” Juraj says, manhandling you around like you were just a toy for him to break, until your back touched the cold, wooden surface of the table sitting in the middle of the dark room. You arch your back, pouting with the coldness and Slaf coos at you. “I’m sorry there isn’t anything more comfortable than this.”

“Like she cares about comfort,” Quinn snorts. “The only thing she’s worried about it’s whether she’s taking one or two cocks in that greedy pussy of hers.”

The humiliation Quinn’s words bring you is almost unbearable, yet it has you dripping anyway. Their laughs, the way they’re all staring at you like some piece of meat makes you feel hot all over.

Juraj lays you down carefully, only to spread your legs open with the same roughness he used before, when his lips were on yours. You yelped, feeling exposed and embarrassed— your bare, glistening pussy was on display for all three of them to see.

“Holy shit,” you hear someone say, Juraj maybe, and you cringe, hiding your face with your hands. “She’s perfect.”

“We’ll see about that,” you hear Jack say behind you and you remove your hands from your face. Suddenly, he’s sliding his pants down, his dick touching his covered abs as wraps his fist around his length, slowly jerking off in front of you.

You’re watching it in awe, even as you stare at him upside down, since your head is hanging off the table’s edge. He smirks down at you at the same time Juraj licks your clenching hole, making you moan for the first time, loud and involuntary.

“Ah.”

“Shit,” you hear Slaf say. “Pussy so fucking wet and sweet. Y/n, you’ll drive me crazy.”

You don’t answer; not because you don’t want to but because Jack places his hands on both sides of your cheeks, squeezing them together until your mouth forms the perfect O and he can slide his entire dick inside it.

He moans noisily as you gag on his long dick. It’s an unexpected feeling, to have your throat fucked like this— Cole wasn’t a big fan of messy, rough blowjobs— but fuck if it doesn’t get you wetter.

Juraj is still working hard on your pussy, licking your folds and throbbing clit, eating it with a loud slurp, the sound of your wetness making you close your eyes with pleasure and shame.

“Your mouth feels so good, pretty,” Jack moans behind you, still holding your head in place while he drags his dick through your throat. Your eyes are wet with unshed tears and you feel your mouth so full it is starting to hurt. “Almost as tight as a pussy.”

It’s overwhelming to try to manage the feeling of Juraj’s tongue and Jack’s cock on you. You feel warm, your hands are gripping the table like your life depends on it, and you can feel yourself start to slip more and more.

“She’s wet enough already,” Quinn states, and the fact that he’s referring to you like you’re not even there makes you whimper loudly around Jack’s cock.

Next thing you know, you’re being manhandled again; Jack’s rough hands leave your cheeks to hold your waist instead, taking you to the nearest couch and laying down with you on top of him.

You’re facing him, those blue eyes never leaving yours. “Y/n,” he starts, his tone gentle for the first time that night. You hum, adjusting yourself on top of him, until you have both of your legs on each side of his body, almost on fours on top of him, highly aware that Quinn and Slaf could see everything. “We are going to be rough.”

“I know,” you whisper.

“I’m not asking for permission, baby, do you understand that?” He talks to you like one would do to a child, using a tone so soft it could put you to sleep, if it were any other situation. You bite your lips, feeling Slaf’s long fingers sliding up and down your pussy, rubbing circles on your swollen clit while Jack speaks. “We are going to be rough. Tonight, you’re nothing but a toy for us to play with, alright? A hole for us to fuck.”

You nod, closing your eyes momentarily as Juraj pinches your clit, hard. He tugs it and it feels like he just placed a clothespin on you. It hurts so. Good.

“I need your words, baby.”

“I u-understand that,” you sob, hot tears running freely down your face as you continue to speak. “I w-want it.”

Jack chuckles, touching your face with care. “It would be so nice if we actually cared about what you want, huh?”

You bit your lip again, suppressing a loud moan. It would be even more embarrassing if they realized how wet you got every time they were mean towards you.

“Bitch gets wetter and wetter every time you say shit like that, Hughes,” Juraj says, and your entire face burns with shame, as you hide it in the crock of Jack’s neck. “Come see this shit, Quinn.”

You tremble as you hear a pair of steps echoing through the room, and without warning, you feel your hips getting lifted, just slightly, at the same time you feel two fingers being inserted inside deeply in your pussy.

You whine loudly, not even feeling pain with how wet you were. His fingers were moving around like you were nothing but a sex doll, making you hold Jack’s arm to steady yourself.

“Look at this tight, little thing,” Juraj says, twirling his fingers around, scissoring them inside you. “Merde. She’s milking my fucking fingers, bro.”

“I can see that,” Quinn hums. “Pussy so fucking greedy she’s taking you without complaints.”

You were about to moan again when Juraj removed his fingers from you, leaving you clenching around nothing, once again. “Let’s start, then.”

After that, it’s hard to tell what really happened. You were thrown around, and suddenly, Slaf was laying under you, Quinn was standing beside you and you assumed Jack was behind you.

You could feel one of them poking their cock through your slit, gathering all your wetness to use as lube. Then, he slowly started to insert it, the stretch making you whimper inside Slaf’s mouth, as he bruised your lips roughly again.

Jack had barely given you time to adjust to his length when you felt Juraj’s tip poking at your entrance too. You gasped inside his mouth, feeling his dick joining Jack’s inside you and.

Oh.

“Fuck, Y/n.”

You opened your eyes, glistening with tears, and stared at Quinn standing beside you, who was looking at you with fond eyes. He chuckles while staring down at you, taking his dick out again and grabbing it with his right hand, running the tip over your mouth.

The salty taste of his precum painting your lips white distracted you momentarily from the fact that Juraj was still trying to put his dick inside you, accompanying Jack’s.

But it wasn’t enough, of course— even if Juraj's thick, long fingers had stretched you, it didn’t compare to having both of their cocks inside you, together.

“Oh,” you heard Quinn coo. “She’s crying. Maybe she can’t take it?”

You shook your head immediately, not even acknowledging how desperate you looked. Quinn put his thumb inside your mouth at the same time Juraj completely bottomed out inside you, making you scream around the brunette’s finger.

“Sh, sh,” Juraj mumbled under you. “Take it, hm?”

The stretch hurt, yet you couldn’t ask them to stop— you felt so full and you swear you can feel them rearranging your guts, reaching so deep inside your body that if you were to look, you’d probably see a bulge in your stomach.

“Holy shit, man,” Jack moaned, dragging his dick slowly until only the tip was in, so that he could slam it back into you again. “She’s so fucking tight.”

“Move, Hughes.” Juraj hissed under you, and after that, everything fell into a pure state of lust.

Jack and Juraj slammed their cocks inside you rhythmically, like they were dancing a well rehearsed dance. Your body jolted forward as they pounded inside you, rough hands— you didn’t know who's— holding you by your waist and pulling your hair at the same time.

Quinn, who had just been jerking his cock while looking at you, decides to take the opportunity and shove his dick inside you, making you gag around his thick length.

“Shit, Y/n,” he moans, throwing his head back. “I’m going to wreck your mouth like they’re doing with your pussy.”

And he wasn’t lying. He tilted your head to the side and thrust his dick deep inside your mouth, until your nose touched his crotch area. You gagged, still not used to the reckless act, but you were far too gone to complain.

The room smelled like sex, lust and sin. The dark walls watched as you laid on top of Juraj’s much bigger body while you took their cocks in two of your holes, with your pupils blown and wide. Your face was destroyed, it didn’t need to be a genius to realize that; your mascara had smudged under your eyes and the tears had spread the black ink almost everywhere.

Your legs hurt, and so did your jaw, but the pleasure was bigger than any pain. You had never felt this dirty, this raw before, but you feared that after this night, you wouldn’t ever be the same; nothing besides them would ever be enough.

“She feels so good,” Jack says, voice filled with need. “She was born for this.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Juraj says, kissing your neck while you gagged around Quinn’s dick. “Born to take cock inside her tiny pussy.”

After that, you keep slipping and slipping. You come on their dicks at least twice, falling apart each time you feel your wetness coating their dicks.

Your throat is raw, your jaw is hurting, but Quinn is close to his climax, like his brother and Slaf.

Jack and Slaf are the first to come, both painting your walls white with their seed. It’s maddening, your belly feels full of them, but you don’t have time to acknowledge that properly, not when Quinn is also coming deep inside your throat.

You lay limp on top of Slaf’s broad chest, closing your eyes, tired.

But—

“Y/n, hey,” you hear Quinn calling, and you open your eyes, just barely. “Can you stand up, just for a bit?”

“Don’t let it go to waste, baby,” Juraj warns you, and you keep clenching even after they remove their dicks. It’s hard, you feel so open you should be disgusted at yourself but you still try to do as they said.

You feel a pair of hands lifting you, and you sigh, exhausted. They manhandled you until you were laying on top of the couch, head resting on your arms. A rough pair of hands— Jack’s— spread your legs open, leaving you exposed once again.

“Go on,” he commands, and you let it go, feeling their sticky cum pour out of your used, gaping pussy. You sob, feeling dirty.

“Jesus fuck.”

“I think I’m hard again.”

“Lowkey, yeah.”

You collapse on the couch once you feel like there’s nothing left, blacking out as soon as your head hits the leather.

𖧷

YOU WOKE up with a light touch on your cheek.

It takes a while for you to manage to open your eyes, but when you do, you thank whoever decided to put a yellow, warm lighting in that room.

“Hi.”

Jack’s voice brings you back to the present, and you lift your head, only then realising that you were in his lap, fully clothed— with clothes that weren’t yours— and covered with something heavy that felt like a blanket.

You frowned.

“What… what happened?” You ask, looking around. There was Juraj, who was placing a few takeout bags on the table, and Quinn, who was holding an old piece of cloth. “Oh my God.”

It was real. You fucked Jack, Juraj and Quinn.

“Oh my God,” you groan, hiding your face in Jack’s chest.

“I hope these exclamations of yours are because you’re wearing Zegras’ hideous clothes and not because you realized you fucked the three of us.” Jack says, sarcasm taking over his face.

“Why would we do that,” you mumble. “Gosh. That’s wrong in so many ways, I can’t even begin to—”

“Y/n,” Quinn calls you, dropping the cloth on the table— the same table Juraj had eaten you out on— and walking towards you, lifting your chin with two of his fingers. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I— Well— We—” you stumbled over your words, not sure of what to say.

He applies pressure on your chin, sapphire eyes squinting at you. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“I—” you sighed. “Yeah. I did.”

He smiled.

“Then we’re fine.” It���s all he says, before pecking your lips, briefly. It was your first time kissing him and you secretly didn’t want it to be the last.

“We liked it too,” Jack says once his brother lets you go. He winks at you, smirking. “I’ll never forget the sight of you full with my—”

You put your hand over his mouth, red as an apple. “Okay, alright, shut up.”

He chuckles, taking your hand away and kissing you, exploring your mouth with his tongue, just like his brother had done, barely two minutes ago.

“You guys are no fun,” you hear Slaf’s voice. “In my opinion, we should just keep doing this.”

“No,” you say. “This was a one time thing. We can’t keep fucking each other like this.”

“As I said, no fun.”

“She’ll change her mind in a few days, I just know it.” Jack says under you and you roll your eyes at his cockiness.

“I’m too tired to argue with you,” you say. “I smell Chinese food. Can we eat?”

“Yeah, we should probably do that,” Quinn says, nodding. “It’s late already. Let’s eat and take Y/n home.”

Juraj and Jack agree with just a few more complaints, and while you watch them take turns to feed you, you realize, with shame, that Jack was wrong about one thing.

It wouldn’t take a few days for you to change your mind.

You had already done it.

NHL MASTERLIST.

JACK HUGHES MASTERLIST.

QUINN HUGHES MASTERLIST.

[wonderjanga]

Fear

Most magicians are scared of the Champion of Magic. Don’t get them wrong, he’s a giant ball of sunshine and rainbows, but at the same time his mere… aura can cause Homo Magi to tremble just by being around him. As a result, most people have to force themselves to remember that this guy is a human golden retriever.

But you can probably guess, even if they force themselves to remember, it can still be scary. Especially for children.

Mother Witch: “Sweetie, meet the Champion of Magic.” *pulling her daughter along*

Daughter Witch: *trembling*

Marvel: “It’s wonderful to meet you-”

Daughter Witch: *shrieks and literally teleports away*

*silence*

Marvel: *starts sulking*

Mother Witch: *feels bad* “Champion, it’s okay! She didn’t mean anything by it! Honest! She’s just a little… shy, that’s all.”

Marvel: “I appreciate you lying to try and make me feel better, but I still feel bad.”

So yeah, that’s how bad it is. And this is just the times when he’s happy and chilling. We don’t even wanna talk about the times he gets mad, which are thankfully rare but still terrify magic users.

Magicians: *arguing about something stupid*

Marvel: *steps into the room, smiling but pissed the fuck off*

Magicians: *immediately shut up and part like the Red Sea*

Marvel: *walks to one of the magicians at a podium*

Podium Magician: *immediately scurries off*

Marvel: *watches them go, and moves to stand at the podium before clearing his throat* “I am extremely disappointed in all of you.”

Magicians: *feel their hearts drop into their asses*

What followed was the most disappointment-filled and surprisingly condescending speech/scolding of an entire room of magicians. It almost felt like they were being scolded by a parent but even then, they’d never been this regretful because this guy could literally take away their magic with the snap of his fingers.

Meanwhile, Billy gets so upset that everyone’s afraid of him regardless whether or not he’s even talking to them.

Billy: :(

Eventually, he figured out that he was just oozing magic so he just started reining it in and that helped a lot.

Billy: :)

[synthetickitsune]

S.Coups (SVT) | Manifestation crack | 0.7k | gn!reader warnings: dick size discussion A/N: never let me talk to @hanniedream this isn't what i thought i'd be writing today. also why did this turn out so angsty

“What did you do?” Seungcheol’s quiet growling, his no-nonsense tone, doesn’t carry too far in the silent cafe.

“What do you mean?” you ask, sipping the drink you paid for, and slide his own cup closer to him. He’s so enraged that he almost crushes the cup with his grip.

“You know what I mean,” he snarls.

You hum and look out of the window. Perhaps you do, but you want to hear him say it loud and clear. Although maybe not that loud, you don’t need people to start turning your way. It’s revenge but it’s not part of your plan to publicly humiliate him. At least for now. So you clear your throat before he can slam his fist on the table.

“I mean it, Cheol,” you sigh and blink up at him, the picture of innocence, “Whatever do you think I’ve done?”

He sets his jaw, his fists clench and unclench. There’s a fire in his eyes that you know too well. That same fire once was the beginning of your undoing.

“Are you kidding me right now?” he looks like he’s about to hit you but you know he wouldn’t. 

“No, I really have no idea what you’re talking about,” you pout your lips only slightly. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. His eyes scan the cafe but you’re sitting in a pretty secluded corner - again, a mercy he doesn’t deserve. He leans closer, gritting his teeth. His muscles bulge with the way his body gets tense. And suddenly despite everything, you find yourself drawn to him. Desiring him.

“My dick is shrinking,” he says, point-blank and without beating around the bush. You almost spit out your drink. He narrows his eyes at you.

“So I guess it’s working,” you snicker and the look in his eyes is priceless.

“You little-” 

He never gets to call you whatever he was about to call you, silenced by a curious look from a guy sitting a few tables over. There’s something very satisfying about watching Cheol withdraw back into his seat with fury still ablaze in his gaze.

“How and why?” he growls.

“Art of manifestation,” you shrug and chuckle at the confusion written all over his face, “I know, right? I guess not all of it is a scam.”

“As to why, do I really need to explain?” you quirk a brow at him. He just gives you a very straightforward nod. You roll your eyes. “You’re impossible, Cheol. You’re so annoying, walking around like you own the world. Like everyone needs to bend to you will just because you have a massive dick - oh wait, had a massive dick.”

“What?” he looks ready to pounce at you, and not in the way he usually does, “That’s it?”

“What do you mean that’s it?” you huff incredulously, “Have you ever heard yourself talking? Cheol, you’re lucky nobody’s fucking done this before.”

“You’re so petty!” he spits and buries his face in his hands.

“And you’re so infuriating. Sorry but you need to be humbled, I’m basically doing this for you,” you take another long sip of your drink and feel yourself relax. What’s he gonna do? Only you can help solve his little problem. And he looks sort of adorable being helpless like this.

“What can I do?” he finally whispers. You’d be lying if you said it doesn’t hurt just a little bit that he never spoke this softly to you before, not even in the early hours of the morning when you were both sweaty and breathing heavily after your nightly escapades. No, instead he’d be boasting about how good he made you feel. He deserves this lesson.

“Be a good person. Be nice, be kind, the usual stuff,” you look away but you feel his eyes burning holes through you anyway.

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I am nice, just not to you?” he bites back.

“Careful,” you smirk through the hint of hurt, “As you said, I’m very petty and you wouldn’t want your situation to get worse.”

You get into a silent staring contest that you end up winning. But still, somehow, despite it all, you feel like all you did today was prove his point.

You end up getting asked out on a date, as if something inside of Seungcheol broke and he accepted his fate. Not what you expected but sure, why not if he’s on his best behavior. Let’s see where this goes.

[419jhat]

Steve becomes an actor. Eddie reacts to his movies while nursing his crush.

***

That Time He Got Naked

Steve had always been a good performer. Eddie watched him in school, putting on the face of a disaffected cool guy who was above everything around him. And he watched him put on a face of bravery for the kids when the end of the world was at their fingertips. When Steve got his first role, Eddie figured it made sense. He hadn't exactly been trained in acting, but he had a pretty face and the ability to do what he was told on a set.

When he got his second role, Eddie didn't pay much attention. Local art movies by Robin's college friends weren't that interesting to watch, in his opinion. But the third role was when it became a thing. That's when it started turning into a big deal. And before they knew it, a year later, Steve was in a real movie. A movie they could see in theaters and rent at family video. A movie people had actually heard of. The kind of movie everyone sat down to watch in support of their famous friend. Even if it was a just small role.

So, at the first available showing where the entire party could get together, Eddie found himself squished between Dustin and Nancy, watching Steve gasp and moan like it was his first time.

And Eddie's face was on fire.

Dustin had pulled his hoodie over his eyes.

Nancy was sitting straight as a telephone pole.

Jonathan leaned over and asked her, “Was he really like that?” Which made her smack him on the arm and tell him to shut up.

Eddie could barely pay attention. He was too busy wondering, as he stared at Steve's bare ass taking up half the screen, if Steve had been hitting the gym to tone up just for this scene because-

He needed to stop thinking about it before he made it even more awkward for everyone.

When Steve called him a week later, he could barely talk without stuttering like a fool.

“So, what did you think? Maria said I was really convincing but she was in the scene with me. She kind of has to say that,” Steve said.

Eddie thought that the sight of Steve's ass had been imprinted on the back of his eyelids, because it was all he saw when he closed his eyes to sleep at night.

“It was good,” Eddie said awkwardly.

“That sex scene was so embarrassing. People keep asking me if it was hot. There is nothing hot about standing around your coworkers in a flesh colored jockstrap.”

“Mm-hmm,” Eddie said, trying not to imagine a scenario where Steve was his coworker, and that was his uniform.

That Time He Died

The next time they met up to watch a Steve movie, nobody had warned Eddie about its contents. Or, maybe they did and he'd ignored it because he didn't want to think about the little mole on the small of Steve's back that he'd discovered last time they watched a Steve movie.

Either way, Eddie was completely unprepared to watch Steve gasping for air while being beaten to death in an alley.

“Ugh, I can't watch this,” Robin muttered when it became clear what was happening. She ran out of the theater a few moments later when the scene didn't end quickly enough.

Lucas was on Eddie's other side, cringing with each brutal punch. Steve was letting out pathetic, wet whimpers, his face literally crunching under the main actor's fists.

Eddie knew it was fake. The blood was kind of excessive and there was just no way you could rearrange someone's face like that with your bare hands. But watching Steve's eyes go glassy made Eddie feel sick.

He got up too.

He found Robin standing next to a water fountain, just staring at it.

“Thirsty, Buckley?”

She jumped.

“Oh. No,” she said, stuffing her hands in the pickets of her jacket. “I just dream about that kind of stuff a lot.”

Eddie nodded. “I get it. It's different when we've seen him hurt before.”

Behind them, the theater door swung open. Dustin paused when he saw them, and then propped it open with his foot. The rest of the party followed.

“I guess we're leaving early, huh?” Nancy asked.

Everyone nodded.

“Nobody tells Steve,” Robin warned.

When Steve called him the next day, he kept his mouth shut.

“You were terrifying,” Eddie said.

“You sure? I think I was supposed to be more pathetic than anything else.”

“I mean, that too. But it was super gory, so I think the whole theater was freaked out.”

“Neat,” Steve said. “You know, I'm going to be in Chicago this weekend. We should hang out!”

“I'd love that!” Eddie said too quickly.

Steve laughed and asked, “maybe you can show me around?”

“Yeah, you can stay at my place!” Eddie said.

And then he looked around his apartment and cringed. “On second thought, you can get a hotel if you don't want to deal with the mess.”

“I love the mess. It's you,” Steve said.

Eddie wasn't sure if he was supposed to be offended or not.

That Time He Cried

The next movie wasn't much better. This time, Eddie came prepared. This time, Steve didn't get naked or die. What he hadn't anticipated was that there were other terrible things that could happen, like watching the man he'd held a crush on for years now scream and sob because he lost the will to live after his wife died.

Eddie honestly didn't know that Steve could sound like that. The anguish in his voice at the funeral scene, the pain in his eyes. It was raw, and difficult to face.

There wasn't a dry tear in their row.

“I do not like this one,” El whispered to Eddie.

“Why is he always miserable in these movies?” Max muttered. She had her shoulders up to her ears and her arms crossed, like she could hold the tears back if she wound herself up tight enough.

“Well. He seemed pretty happy in the first one,” Eddie said.

Max punched him in the shoulder.

Steve's phone call came that evening.

“Dude, I think you broke everyone's hearts. I didn't even know you could cry like that,” Eddie said.

Steve huffed a laugh into the receiver. “My agent told me to think of something sad.”

“What did you think of?” Eddie asked. He instantly wanted to smack himself in the forehead. Why would Steve share that with him? To his shock, Steve hummed, like he was thinking.

“I thought about how I felt when we thought Max was dead,” he said quietly. “Obviously, it's not like that between us. She's basically my sister at this point. But…it was the first time I'd ever lost someone but cared about. Someone I was supposed to protect.”

Eddie's heart melted into a million pieces.

“Steve. I think you should invite her to visit you. She loves you too,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” Steve said slowly, “the only thing is that Dustin would lose his shit if she visited first.”

“Oh, don't worry, I'll keep him distracted for you,” Eddie said.

“With Dragons and Dickwads?” Steve asked.

“You know it.”

That Time He Proposed

Eventually, Steve broke his curse of misery and managed to get a lead role in a rom com. Eddie hated it more than anything else. Watching him fall in love with the human equivalent of a shallow puddle pissed Eddie off more than anything else had in a long time. Steve's pretty eyes, staring at her. Steve, so visibly in love with someone who didn't deserve him. Steve, doing stupid shit to make her take him back when he hadn't done anything wrong in Eddie’s completely unbiased opinion.

It made Eddie want to tear his hair out.

The real cherry on top was Steve proposing to her at the end, because of-fucking-course the movie ended that way. That kind of heteronormative love at first sight, get married and have kids bullshit the media always pandered to, drove him up the wall. Steve did all the work. He set up a cheesy outdoor surprise at the beach and dropped to one knee while everyone in the background of the scene clapped like a bunch of lemmings.

“This is so fucking stupid,” Eddie said.

“Tell me about it,” Mike said.

“God, I hate romance movies," Eddie said.

“They always suck,” Mike agreed.

“Steve would never do that! He doesn't like big grand gestures!” Eddie said.

“What?” Mike asked.

“He's a very private person!”

“Eddie…that's not Steve. That's Chris. Steve’s character,” Erica said.

“I- I know that. I'm just saying,” Eddie sputtered.

“Can you all shut the fuck up?” Max hissed.

Steve called him a week later, and by then, Eddie had forgotten all about it up until Steve started waxing poetic about how romantic it all was. Ugh.

“Wait, I thought you didn't like that kind of stuff,” Eddie interrupted.

“Oh. No, I don't. But in the context of the movie, it was supposed to be.”

“So…what kind of romance do you like?” Eddie asked casually.

“Gonna surprise me with something, Munson?” Steve asked.

“Wha- no, I just-” Eddie stuttered.

Steve interrupted him with a laugh. Then, he suddenly asked, in a sinfully soft voice, “when are you going to visit me?”

Eddie's heart skipped a beat.

“Uh, I don't know. Tattooing doesn't pay for a California vacation yet,” he said nervously.

“You could move out here,” Steve said. “There's a ton of people wanting tattoos in LA.”

“I don't know if all that sun would agree with me,” Eddie joked.

“Youcouldmoveinwithme,” Steve blurted out.

“Hmm?” Eddie asked, twisting the phone cord around his thumb.

“You could move in with me,” Steve said.

Eddie nearly dropped the phone. He sat up straight and looked at his hands like they couldn't tell him what he'd really heard, because there was no way Steve was being serious.

“Eddie?” Steve asked.

“I'm here. Good one, Steve,” he said with a forced laugh, “like you'd want me messing up your place. Anyway, got anything else going on?”

Steve didn't reply for a moment. When he did, he told him about some party he'd gone to. And Eddie forgot about the offer completely.

That Time He Was a Villain

Thankfully, Steve's next film was wildly different from the others. This time he was the bad guy. Eddie found it kind of thrilling to watch him parade around with the confidence of an unapologetic piece of shit. The way he led the main characters around like he had them on a leash, the way he looked when he was in charge. It made Eddie's pathetic little heart shiver.

Steve made a sexy villain.

Unfortunately for Eddie, nobody else seemed to agree. As they left the theater, all the kids were grumbling under their breath.

“I thought he was cool in that role,” Eddie said.

“He was such an asshole!” Dustin said.

“I can't believe he was so mean to Miranda! He didn't have to be such a bad husband!” Max said.

“It was the look in his eyes. Like he thought it was all fun,” Erica said with disgust.

“Once a douche, always a douche,” Mike muttered.

Nancy lifted an eyebrow. “You guys know that it was just a character, right? Steve didn't actually endorse any of that stuff.”

“He chose the role,” Dustin muttered. “I hope Hollywood isn't ruining him.”

Eddie was pretty sure they just missed him.

Steve called him three days later.

“Do you think I'm turning into an asshole?” he asked without saying hello.

“Dustin’s just being stupid,” Eddie said.

“He says I'm regressing back into my high school days!”

“That's dramatic,” Eddie said with a laugh, “he didn't even know you in high school.”

“Exactly!”

“I thought you were cool in your latest movie,” Eddie said.

“What?”

“I mean, you are a bit of an ass, but it shows your skill.”

“Wait, is that what this is about? I thought I missed his birthday or something!”

“Oh, no. They just don't like seeing you play the bad guy.”

“Oh my God, that is so fucking-”

That Time He Fell In Love With A Man

Eddie didn't know what was coming next. Steve had been in a wide variety of roles at this point, so when he sat down in the theater with a bucket of popcorn, he did not expect to witness the crush of his life, holder of his soul, dream of all dreams, to be making out with another man.

Eddie nearly threw his popcorn at the screen out of sheer shock.

“Buckley, did you know about this!?” he hissed to Robin.

“Yeah, I thought it was really brave,” she said softly.

“What do you mean? Because he's straight?”

Robin slowly turned to look at Eddie with an eyebrow lifted.

“...what?” she asked.

Eddie wasn't paying attention. He turned back to watch. It was beautiful. It was nothing like what he'd expected. Explicit love between two men, on screen for the world to see. He didn't even have it in himself to get jealous. For the first time, Eddie couldn't see Steve. He saw the story. He could see himself in the way Steve's character looked at his lover. The way they hid their feelings for each other in public. The film ended with Steve's character passing away in a car accident. It made Eddie cry. Eddie hadn't cried in a theater in years.

He left the building feeling raw.

The others were raving about the film, talking about how it would push Steve's career to the next level. No comments about it being weird or gross.

“Robin, why would he choose that role?” Eddie asked quietly.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean, did he do it for Will or something?”

Robin turned to Eddie with her hands on her hips, looking very much like Steve with the level of judgement in her eyes.

“Eddie…when you said Steve was straight. Were you being serious?”

Eddie just blinked at her. “Of course I was. He is straight.”

“Are you stupid?” she asked. Eddie opened his mouth to reply, but she didn't let him. “Where have you been the last few years? Has that apartment of yours been lined with lead?”

“What-”

“Eddie, he calls you almost every week!”

“He calls everyone-”

“He stays at your place when he's in town!”

“It's cheaper-”

“He is a successful actor! He has no reason to stay in your apartment, which is always covered in dirty clothes!”

“Hey, I try to keep it-”

“Last time I was there, your underwear was hanging on the bathroom doorknob!”

“Listen, I told you I can explain that-”

“Eddie, he asked if you wanted to move in with him!”

Eddie opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. Now that he thought about it, he did recall Steve joking about that. But it had just been a joke. Right?

“I thought he was being nice?” Eddie offered.

“Oh my god, you are so stupid,” Robin said.

“Wait, so let me get this right. Steve isn't straight. And he's interested in me!?”

Robin punched him in the shoulder. “Go call him, you dumbass.”

Eddie turned and ran all the way home without even saying goodbye. By the time he made it to his phone, he was gasping for air after running up three flights of stairs. And for the first time in years, he called Steve after watching his movie.

“Hello?”

Eddie could only gasp for air.

“...listen if this is some kind of prank-”

“No! Wait! It's me!” Eddie gasped.

“Eddie?” Steve asked.

“I saw your new movie,” Eddie said, brushing his hands out of his face with a shaking hand, “why didn't you ever tell me?”

Steve was silent for a moment.

“Tell you what?” he finally asked.

“That you like men!”

“I'm sorry?” Steve asked, sounding shocked.

Eddie's face was on fire. Had he somehow completely misunderstood Robin's point? Should he have stayed beyond to make sure?

“Eddie, did you not know that?” Steve asked.

“What! Of course, I didn't! If I had known that I would have-” Eddie cut himself off, too embarrassed to even say it.

“You would have what?” Steve goaded.

“It doesn't matter,” Eddie mumbled.

“No, I think it does,” Steve said.

“It's not a big deal,” Eddie said.

“I think it is,” Steve said.

Eddie bit his bottom lip, letting his feelings fester inside him until they finally exploded in the form of him shouting, “I would have asked you out!”

“And I would have said yes,” Steve said instantly.

“Really?” Eddie asked softly.

“I mean…I've been crazy about you for years,” Steve said.

“Why didn't you say anything!? Do you know how crazy you drove me last time you stayed here? You can't hold a man in bed like that and not expect him to fall in love!”

“I- uh, thought you didn't feel the same,” Steve said, sounding embarrassed. Eddie closed his eyes and sighed. Robin was right. He was so stupid.

“Steve, I feel the same and I want to ask you to be with me for the foreseeable future,” Eddie said boldly.

“The foreseeable future? Not just a date?” Steve asked.

“I am well past wanting a single date, to be honest.”

“Oh wow. Well, I've been looking for a boyfriend,” Steve said.

“I might even surprise you with something romantic,” Eddie said with a smile.

[somefanchick]

-Leona’s Pride and Prejudice-

(This story is from Leona's perspective anytime the events of book three. It does include mention of the Cloudcalling on the Savanna event. I only know information from the English server story and events so sorry if anything is terribly out of character. This fic is platonic and is cannon for my Yuu-sona, but I do just call them (Yuu) in the story [she/her] [feminine terms]. Hope you enjoy!)

(Triger Warning: cussing, derogatory terms, drunk individual, and some sexual harassment towards (Yuu).)

I had a hard time understanding the Ramshackle prefect. She would put up with things that would piss most people off and then fly off the handle at things that only seemed to bother her. Hell, she seemed more pissed at me for not wanting to let her stay in Savanaclaw while she dealt with the octopunk then she was at me for overbloting. She would entertain Grim, Cheeka, and freshmen alike while they did every annoying thing they possibly could, but then lose her mind at Jamil just brushing by her in the hallway without saying a quick apology. 

I could never tell what she was going to do next. I would find myself observing her whenever she came near, making a game out of trying and failing to predict her choices. I would guess she was getting a sandwich for lunch only to get the fish platter and give it to Grim. I would think she came to the library to read or research only to find her pulling out a pen to work on a paper for class. I couldn’t understand her. 

Once again, it was time to play the game. I had hidden in a large tree near mainstreet to sleep, using the people below as some sorta white noise. However, (Yuu) had entered the picture, keeping me awake. The statues had gotten dirty as migration had caused flocks of birds to pass over campus during the changing seasons, leading the headmaster to commission his little errand-runner to clean them. 

She was working on the King of Beasts' statue when I noticed that a group of sophomores had stopped to talk and loiter on the side of the street. I didn’t even notice them at first, but they kept raising their voices to force everyone around to listen.

“Maybe people wouldn’t hate her so much if she wasn’t such a bitch,” the leader of the imbeciles spat, pointing the words at (Yuu), “Maybe then she’d have someone who wants to keep her around.”

“Maybe,” another boy took (Yuu)’s lack of response as a go ahead to keep pushing, “she needs someone to put her in her place.”

The leader wasn’t even trying to hide his smirk. I couldn’t even hear what he was saying properly anymore. My head was racing. As the insults kept hurling towards her, I kept watching for a reaction. Nothing. It’s like she wasn’t even hearing them. 

On the one hand, I knew she could handle herself. Seven knows she can dish out even more than she takes. Plus, she’s dealt with more overblots than anyone with nothing more than her own physical ability to keep her safe. I knew that she could send those cocky assholes to the dirt if she really wanted to. But she didn’t. I kept waiting. 

“I would understand her ego if she wasn't such an ugly prude,” One of the boys snickered, “You would think she’d want to show off the only ‘nice’ thing about her, but she always covers up those long legs of hers.”

She ignored them again, climbing onto the statue base to get bird poop off the mane. They kept getting louder and it was starting to piss me off. They made comments that were more and more specific and vile. I knew she could handle herself, but I also knew that I could handle it. I started to run out of patience. 

“And what is with those freshmen she hangs out with?”

I finally saw her react. It was small and subtle enough to where I don’t even think the assholes saw it. But she froze for a second. I could almost see her switch from ignoring them completely to analyzing everything by the second.

“They are so stupid! I don’t think a single one of them is going to pass their classes,” the boy rolled his eyes, “Plus those guys are weak as hell. I bet any one of us could beat the shit out of any of them while the bitch just watched.”

“Say that again?” (Yuu) had finished with the mane of the statue and was now leaning against it while towering over the sophomores, “I fear my ears may be fooling me.”

“He said,” The leader took over for his friend, approaching the statue in some attempt to look threatening, “that any one of us could beat the shit out of any of those dumbass freshmen while all you did was bitch and moan about it while sobbing your eyes out.”

“Cool,” She jumped down from the statue, leaving the cleaning supplies on the base, “So now that you’ve gotten your delusions out of your system, you can start preparing for the consequences of running that shithole you call a mouth.”

“Oh really?” He got in her face, I was almost out of patience, “And what consequences are those? You getting on your knees to beg for mercy on behalf of your little boy toys?”

“Nope.”

She socked him in the face. It was a perfect attack. A clean hit to the jaw before driving her knee into his crotch. She moved back as the friends went in to make their own attacks. I actually recognized the tactics she used as she quickly dodged and hit the others. They had been the same techniques I had taught at the Bead Brawl tournament.

Soon all of them were hauling their sorry asses to the infirmary. I knew she wouldn’t get in trouble because idiots like those wouldn’t admit they got their ass handed to them by a magicless girl. 

She just moved on to start cleaning the next statue. It was like nothing had happened.

I was in one of the trees in the courtyard, once again trying to sleep while Ruggie was in PE. (Yuu) entered the courtyard in her own PE uniform, probably at a break in her schedule after her own flying class. She sat at the fountain and began reading some history book. I didn’t recognize it from Trein’s class, so I assumed it was one of her ‘fun’ reads. 

I could see a pair of Savanaclaw freshmen at a table near the fountain, and I could see them talking in hushed voices. If I had been anyone else I wouldn’t have heard them, but being me, I did.

One of the students was a jackal beastmen, “I still can’t believe that lazy prick is King Falena’s brother. I’m so glad there's no chance he’ll be king. He’d run the country into the ground.”

“Dude,” One of the other student’s joined in the conversation, “You didn’t even see his meltdown. The dude almost disintegrated Ruggie with that terrifying spell of his. He must be real fucking stupid to try and kill the one person who puts up with his lazy ass.”

I watched as (Yuu) slammed her book closed, not bothering to mark her place, “Could you twats shut your traps?”

 “Excuse me?” The second boy looked at her with disgust and confusion, “We’re having a private conversation.”

“Yeah,” She stood, “Loud enough for anyone in the school to hear. Plus, what your saying is bullshit. I’m not letting bullshit interrupt my reading during my half-an-hour of peace, solitude, and quiet.”

The beastman stood, trying to use his size to get her to back down, “Look, I’m just expressing an opinion. Why do you even care? It’s not like he’s ever done anything for you. He’s just lazy.”

“And that’s how I know you’re just imbeciles who don’t know anything other than what you’ve been told to believe,” She stared him in the eye and showed no signs of backing down, “What exactly do you expect from him? Do you expect perfection without praise? Perfection without any hope for something to come out of it? Do you expect him to make plan after plan to improve everything for everyone else only to get shot down because it’s his idea and not someone else's or because it hasn’t been done before? Do you expect him to try and improve the lives of the people who are figuratively slapping him in the face on the regular? Try to be productive while being ignored, constantly overshadowed, and being put down by everyone around you. After you do that, then you can shoot the shit all you want and I won’t complain.”

“Why are you being so defensive about this?” The other student interjected, “You of all people should know how destructive he is. You’re the one who dealt with his overblot.”

“Exactly,” She smiled a wicked smile that sent a chill through me, “I dealt with it. You cried in the corner. It’s not that he’s scary. You’re just a coward. Plus, it is rich of you to call him lazy or stupid when you are completely aware of his little scheme to win the spelldrive tournament. The plan was actually well thought out and took a good deal of effort. The only folly was that he underestimated me. And Seven knows that he never made that mistake again. He’s constantly aware of every factor he can’t predict. That takes intelligence and diligence. Now will you please give me my…” she checked a pocket watch that someone must have given her at some point, “twenty three remaining minutes of peace, solitude, and quiet?”

The freshmen were silent. The jackal-boy sat back down. An odd emotion swirled inside of me. She seemed to somewhat get it. Everything she had said about me was at least a thought that had crossed my mind at one point or another. Sure it wasn’t everything, and it wasn’t like she knew everything. However, it was odd that she could read that much of me. Especially since I thought her head was too far up her ass to see others so intimately, let alone me.

She sat back down at the fountain and the freshmen left the courtyard. Part of me hoped she would look in my direction. Show some kinda sign that she only said those things or intervened because she knew I was watching. Some part of me thought that would make it seem less personal. Make it feel like she was doing it with some ulterior motive of gaining my favor or getting me to ‘owe’ her. But she didn’t.

She just sat down and began reading again. 

She was strange.

She could handle herself. I knew that. I had seen that first hand. She could fight or outwit any of the other herbivores. But I could never understand her. 

I don’t even know what possessed me to take the bus into town. An odd craving for this one sandwich made by a local business that refuses to deliver and an absent Ruggie maybe. 

(Yuu) was also on the bus. I found myself almost following her when she got off. She had a bag with some books in it, so I assumed she was trading them in at that one bookstore full of used literature. I told myself that I was just going the same direction as her because the two businesses were near one another, but part of me knew it was just to see what she would do.

She turned the corner and ran smack into a man that was all but blocking the entrance to the bookstore. 

“Pardon me,” She didn’t smile as she moved to walk past the man.

“Hey,” Even from the distance I had put between her and myself, I could smell that the man reeked of booze. He hiccuped, “What’s the rush pretty lady? Got a hot date or something?”

“No,” She kept a neutral expression, “Just errands and a limited time to do them.”

He stopped her from moving past him, “Well then why don’t you stay a while? Pretty thing like you shouldn’t be all alone. Plus,” I could see him scan her form, “I’m sure I could find something good to entertain both of us.”

I wanted to rip his head off. He was being annoying and (Yuu) at least deserved some assistance after she went out of her way to defend me. However, I knew she could handle herself. I waited and watched for her to do something. For her to punch and kick, knocking him to the ground like those asshole sophomores. For her to talk him into the grave and bathe him in shame like she had with the freshmen. But it was nothing. She let him keep going.

“Why aren’t you smiling? Beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be frowning,” He put his arm against the wall, keeping her in place, “Come on sexy, smile for me.”

Why wasn’t she doing anything? I know she didn’t typically do what I would think she would do in any given situation, but to do nothing? What in the name of the seven was going on in her head? 

I didn’t even notice I wandered closer until (Yuu) and I made eye contact. I had never seen that look in her eyes. It wasn’t exactly fear or numbness, but an odd mix of the two. As if she had completely disassociated but some small part of her was screaming for help. I didn’t even think she realized that it was my eyes she was looking into. She only knew that it was someone who could possibly help. 

She could handle herself. But not right now.

“Hey,” I found myself gripping onto the man’s shoulder, “Leave.”

“Excuse me?” He swayed as he turned to try and confront me.

“You’re drunk, not deaf,” I nearly growled, “I told you to leave.”

“What’s your deal?” He seemed even more drunk close up, “It’s none of your business. I’m just talking to a pretty lady. What happened to being a bro and not cockblocking a perfect stranger?”

Sevens the bastard was drunk off his ass. 

“Leave before I tear your fucking head off,” I grinned to show off my teeth, “Or don’t. I don’t mind catching a charge.”

The man put his hands up in surrender, “Whatever dick cheese. A guy can’t shoot his shot with a sexy lady anymore? Sevens!” 

I didn’t take my eyes off him until he completely disappeared into the streets. I just hoped someone called the police on his ass for public intoxication or some shit.

“Leona?” (Yuu) finally spoke again, the look in her eyes replaced by her normal neutral or annoyed tone, “What are you doing here?”

“Getting a sandwich,” I put my hands in my pockets, “What else?”

She sighed, “Can we just not talk about what just happened? It’s a pain in the ass.”

I tried not to smile, “Yeah. It sure is.”

I went with her to the bookstore and she followed me to the sandwich place. The day was filled with a comfortable silence, only broken by random comments that never really led to a full conversion. It was nice. Plus, I no longer felt like I needed to pay her back for her defending me to those freshmen. It was a win-win situation. 

It still didn’t stop me from thinking about it. She had no trouble standing up to people at school for talking shit about me and her freshman. However, she seemed to completely shut down when it was about her. I didn’t get it.

She sat next to me on the bus as the sun set. She laid her head back on the seat and I could see the moment that she fell asleep. It was oddly peaceful. 

… 

I had a hard time understanding the Ramshackle prefect.

[bedards-bunnie]

NHL Players Reacting To Finding Out You're Pregnant ❄️🐰

Content: Pregnancy, Established relationships Notes: Please let me know if I missed anyone you would like to see! I hope you enjoy..please interact if you did, feedback is appreciated! 💗

*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ ⋆꙳*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ ⋆꙳*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ ⋆꙳*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ ⋆꙳*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ ⋆꙳*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ ⋆꙳*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ

Connor Bedard

He freezes. Like completely stops functioning for a solid minute.

“Wait, really? Like… really, really?”

Once it sinks in, a huge grin grows on his face

He reaches out to touch your stomach, even though he knows there’s nothing there yet.

He’s still processing days later

“Holy shit… we’re gonna be parents.”

He immediately starts researching  “how to be a good dad”  but doesn’t tell you out of embarrassment.

Will NOT shut up about it to his teammates once he gets over the shock.

Nico Hischier

Literally stops breathing for a second. He thinks he misheard you

Hands on his hips, pacing. Runs a hand through his hair.

“Are you serious?”

When you nod, his whole face lights up with this attractive, excited smile.

Pulls you into his arms and buries his face in your neck, taking in the sweet scent of your perfume.

“I love you. So much. Oh my.”

Probably tears up but tries to be subtle about it.

Calls his mom IMMEDIATELY.

That night, he lies awake, just staring at you in awe, hand resting protectively on your stomach.

Adam Fantilli

“No way. No fucking way. Are you messing with me?”

As soon as you confirm, he just starts grinning like a fool.

Picks you up and spins you around happily.

“WE’RE GONNA HAVE A BABY!”

Lowkey freaks out about being a dad but masks it with excitement.

Already planning matching hockey jerseys for the baby.

Catches himself watching you all the time now, like holy shit, you’re carrying our baby.

Leo Carlsson

His eyes go wide and he just blinks.

“Really?” His voice is so soft and unsure.

When you nod, he immediately wraps his arms around you and just holds you tight.

Kisses your forehead, then your stomach.

“You’re gonna be the best mom.”

Gets really emotional but doesn’t say much

Looks up Swedish baby names

Jack Hughes

Stares at you for a solid ten seconds.

“Wait. What?”

Once he processes, he just drops his head into his hands, overwhelmed.

But when he looks up he’s smiling so big.

“Holy shit. We’re gonna have a baby.”

“I mean you’re gonna have a baby..but- but it’s mine, right?

Hugs you so tight, burying his face in your hair.

Calls Luke IMMEDIATELY to freak out.

Will not stop touching your stomach even though it’s early.

“Hey, baby, it’s your dad. I love you already.”

Quinn Hughes

Just stares at you for the longest time.

He’s so overwhelmed but doesn’t know what to say.

Finally, he just pulls you in, pressing his face against your shoulder.

“Are you okay? Do you feel okay?”

Tries to act calm, but you can feel his heart racing.

Kisses your forehead and whispers, “I love you so much.”

He won’t let go of you in bed and keeps one hand on your stomach.

Tyler Bertuzzi

“No shit?”

Smirks at first, but then he actually processes it.

“Wait. I’m gonna be a dad?”

You see it hit him all at once and he grabs your face, kissing you hard.

“You know our kid’s gonna be an absolute menace, right?”

Immediately starts thinking about all the dumb dad jokes he’ll get to use.

Brags to literally everyone who will listen.

“Yup, knocked her up. Guess I did something right.”

Trevor Zegras

“NO WAY.”

Literally jumps up and down like a child.

“We’re having a BABY?! We made a whole human?!”

Pulls you into his lap, holding your face in his hands.

“Holy shit, I love you so much.”

Immediately starts making TikToks about being a dad.

Buys baby Ducks merch within an hour.

Alex Vlasic 

Stops mid-breath.

“Are you serious?”

When you nod, his face softens immediately.

Holds your hands in his and kisses your knuckles.

“I love you.”

Becomes super protective overnight.

Talks to your belly when he thinks you’re asleep.

Gets teary-eyed thinking about holding your baby for the first time.

Jordan Binnington

“Wait, hold on.”

Visibly panicking.

“Like, an actual baby? Like… OUR baby?”

Sits down, processing, then suddenly grins.

“Shit. I’m gonna be a dad.”

So protective. Tries to ban you from doing anything remotely dangerous.

Insists on driving you everywhere.

Will absolutely fight someone for looking at you wrong.

Vince Dunn

Eyes go wide. Mouth slightly open.

“No way. No fucking way.”

Tears up immediately.

Wraps his arms around you and buries his face in your neck.

“I love you. So much.”

Starts referring to you as “baby mama” immediately.

Can’t stop smiling like an idiot.

“Our kid is gonna be a little shit, huh?”

Luke Hughes

Stares at the test for way too long. Blinks. Looks at you. Looks back at the test.

Hand running through his hair, pacing for a second before stopping in front of you.

“You’re serious?”

When you nod, he exhales sharply and then he’s grinning, pulling you into his arms.

“Holy shit, we’re having a baby.”

Face buried in your neck, arms holding you tight. A little shaky, a little overwhelmed, but so happy.

Lowkey panics about being a good dad. Watches so many parenting videos. Asks Quinn and Jack way too many questions.

Will 100% cry when he holds the baby for the first time.

Juraj Slafkovský

Eyes go wide. Mouth slightly open.

“No way. No fucking way.”

Scoops you up in his arms, spinning you around. Realizes mid spin that you’re pregnant and panics, putting you down so very gently.

“You’re serious?” he asks, voice soft, hands shaking a little. When you nod, he just stares at you in awe.

Holds your face in his hands, forehead pressed to yours, whispering, "I love you so much."

Calls his mom immediately. Literally before you even sit down. She cries and now he’s crying too.

So protective. So dramatic about it. You get up too fast? “Baby, sit.” You try to carry something? “Nope. I got it.”

Talks to your belly in Slovak every single night. Tells the baby about his games, how much he loves you, how excited he is to meet them.

Buys the tiniest baby skates he can find. Will not stop showing them to you.

Insists the baby’s first word is gonna be “hokej”

Loses his mind the first time he feels the baby kick. “Did you see that? Our baby’s already an athlete.”

Holds your hand through the whole delivery. Kisses your forehead, whispering, “You did so good, láska.”

*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ ⋆꙳*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ ⋆꙳*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ ⋆꙳*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ ⋆꙳*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ ⋆꙳*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ ⋆꙳*❆ ₊⋆୨ৎ

[riddlerosehearts]

okay but. in trey's dream, leona says he feels sorry for riddle because his two underlings are both dreaming of changing who the boss is. and then idia agrees and says that people like cater and trey are scary because they smile and hide their true feelings while secretly being dissatisfied with riddle and wishing someone else was the dorm leader. and i'm guessing, as i haven't ventured into the tags yet, that while i waited to be able to watch an english translation the rest of the fandom spent the last few days taking leona and idia's words at face value and hating on trey and having discourse over this!

but my first thought? was that those two couldn't be more wrong, and that cater and trey were subconsciously being so kind to riddle. seriously. they can't imagine the trauma his mother caused him being entirely gone, that's just too far off from reality and what they know, but they can imagine it being softened a little. they can imagine him being allowed to start healing instead of spending his first year at school getting worse and worse. they can dream of a world where riddle doesn't have the stressful responsibility of being dorm leader, a responsibility that contributed to keeping him under his mother's thumb by allowing him to tyrannize the dorm and force his obsession with rules on everyone else. cater dreamt that he was dorm leader and riddle was not only a normal card soldier, but a DJ for cater's parties, and having a fun time! trey dreamt that chenya not only went to NRC with them but became the dorm leader--that the happy trio of their childhood was reunited and riddle would be known as a great student who others could always ask for help, who lets himself feel free to eat what he wants instead of continuing to follow his mother's rules. both cater and trey's perfect dream worlds took away riddle's role as dorm leader, something that for his whole first year at NRC had served to prolong his trauma, and replaced it with him remaining a normal student so heartslabyul could be a safe place where he was free from his mother's influence instead. that's just so sweet it makes me want to cry.

[lucysarah-c]

I'll just say, I may be here posting about Mounting Spring, asks etc... But I'm cooking... I'm cooking something everyone asked me for lol

“I like this! This 3D flower pattern is so on trend right now.”

Levi’s eyes were glued to the screen as a freshly painted nail was shown up close.

“Oh, hi! Thank you,” her voice popped up again, and like an animal in pure confusion, he tilted his head to the side.

What are those things popping up? He was completely lost.

“Isn’t it too late for coffee?” she read aloud before grabbing her cup and taking a sip from the straw. “There’s no such thing as too much black or too late for coffee. Plus, it’s girls’ night! What’s a girls’ night without iced coffee or a glass of wine?”

This feels wrong now, Levi thought, taking a sip of his own drink, lazily sprawled on his bed. But when she started showing off her pajamas, that’s when he lost it.

Holy shit... it’s the little shorts doing it for me.

“This is why kids these days have their eyes glued to this shit,” he muttered, almost offended— as if his own mouth wasn’t slightly open and his eyes weren’t stuck to the screen as she vibed to the song playing in the background.

“Have you ever tried… this one?” She winked at the camera, arm in the air, hips moving in a way that Levi quickly guessed was meant to simulate riding. Over the kitchen island.

…I’m definitely not better than a 12-year-old boy.

The chat flooded with messages about how much they loved the song.

Whose song is this?

“Oh! I love that! Ugh, my heart is divided, I want all of them to win! Birds of a Feather is so good, but Hot to Go?” she gushed, listing more names Levi didn’t recognize.

Who are those?

“And the dance?”

What trend? What song? What dance?

Levi felt lost. Completely lost.

“Oh, thank you for the donation! Here, a heart for you!”

She pressed two fingers together in the shape of a heart. Levi tilted his head again, frowning.

How the hell is that a heart?

But before he could keep questioning his entire existence—or, perhaps, his age—her expression shifted. The usual bright smile faded as she read something from the chat.

“Look, if you’ve got a problem with me, just keep scrolling, buddy. Can an admin ban him from the stream, please?”

That made Levi do the exact opposite. He scrolled up through the rapidly moving chat until he found the comment in question. Some idiot had said she owed it to him if something happened because of what she was wearing and doing on screen.

“What’s your fucking problem, dude?” Levi whispered, clicking his tongue. “If a woman has never even touched you, don’t say it so loudly.”

His fingers moved on their own, pressing the guy’s username, looking for a way to reply—until he suddenly let the phone drop onto his chest and stared at the ceiling.

“I need to calm down,” he muttered. Being in this live stream was already too much for him. Getting into an online argument was not the way to go.

How long had he been watching? He wasn’t sure. But in that time, he’d learned that ASMR meant tapping on objects with freshly done nails and whispering, that people voted on live which designs she should do next, and… a whole lot more.

“Say you can’t sleep, baby, I know. That’s me, espresso…”

She sang along to the music, and he felt hypnotized.

“…Did I just spend two hours of my life on this?”

The “Love ya!” came through the speakers as she blew a final kiss before ending the live.

“For fuck’s sake…” Levi muttered, almost offended. “You can’t be that stupidly cute.”

Maybe pop songs were popular for a reason. Maybe that’s why Levi never downloaded any apps on his phone or used it for anything beyond strictly necessary texts. Because explain to him why the hell he was humming at work.

“Since when do you know Sabrina Carpenter?”

Hange appeared out of nowhere, catching him off guard.

Levi had to come up with an excuse. Fast.

“What? Is it illegal for me to know new songs?”

“No…” Hange dragged the word out, squinting at him in suspicion. “But since when do you?”

“Give me a break. I’m not that old. I can get to know new artists,” he brushed it off while brewing himself a tea.

Hange let it slide, but their mind was already working, scheming. They kept talking, mostly about work. But as Levi finished his tea and was ready to leave, Hange casually dropped:

“Espresso?”

Levi frowned. “What?”

Hange repeated the question immediately, as if he hadn’t heard them the first time. But of course, he had.

“Fuck no. You know I hate coffee. Black tea,” he grumbled.

To his shock, Hange chuckled, shaking their head, biting their lip as they held back a knowing smile.

“Aww, Shortie… don’t give yourself away.”

“Huh?”

“Espresso. That’s the song you were humming.” Their grin widened. “I’m starting to think you’re not just listening to new artists—you’re watching new people.”

Levi stiffened.

And for the first time, he couldn’t hide the subtle embarrassed blush creeping up his face.

“Get off my ass,” he muttered, already walking away.

But Hange wasn’t done.

“And I think it might be Erwin’s cute little influencer friend!”

I won't say anything else, let the readers figure it out.

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #03 死

† breakfast and training †

"His eyes are the kind of dark that makes you forget there was ever light in the world. And you hate that you're starting to notice details about him."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 5.4k

rating: mature

content: training violence, weapons, strong language, sexual tension

☠ author's note ☠

HELLO MY FELLOW SLEEP-DEPRIVED CREATURES. Welcome back to another episode of "Kiki makes questionable life choices and writes fanfiction instead of sleeping"!

Can we talk about how I wrote like three different versions of the gun scene before my perfectionist brain was satisfied? And by satisfied I mean "fine whatever just post it I guess." Don't @ me about gun accuracy, I play Call of Duty sometimes that's research enough (ㆆᴗㆆ)

Also yes, I am absolutely living for the whole "oh no they're training together" trope. Sue me. Or don't, I'm broke. All I have is caffeine and the ability to make my characters suffer. Speaking of which - Jeon in combat mode? chef's kiss My boy is out there being all professional and grumpy while Y/N is just trying her best not to get shot. We love that for them.

PSA: The whole "Cookie" thing was totally self-indulgent and I regret nothing. V is here to cause chaos and honestly? Goals.

Special shoutout to my cat who watched me write this at 3 AM and judged me silently. You're the best beta reader a girl could ask for, even if your only feedback is knocking my coffee over.

See you next Tuesday, you beautiful disasters! Remember: sleep is for the weak and fanfiction is for life.

crawls back into writing cave while mainlining espresso

Kiki

⚔ socials ⚔

read on ao3

read on wattpad

tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

Mornings in the castle hit different. Through your window, the sky's doing that thing where it can't decide if it's still night or already dawn—all soft blues mixing with hints of gold. Everything's quiet, like the world's holding its breath.

Then your alarm goes off.

"Why did we agree to this again?" Yunjin whines from her bed, fumbling to shut up the annoying buzz. Her pink hair is a mess, splayed across her pillow like cotton candy gone wrong.

"Croissants," you remind her, stretching until your joints pop. "Fresh, buttery, heavenly croissants."

"Not hungry." She burrows deeper into her blanket cocoon. "Too early for hunger. Too early for existing."

You swing your legs off the bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor. "What happened to yesterday's 'new me, new goals' speech?"

"That was yesterday's Yunjin. Today's Yunjin chooses sleep."

With a snort, you pad over to her bed. It's literally two steps away—your shared room is cozy like that, with just enough space for two singles and matching bedside tables. You give her shoulder a gentle shake.

"And what's tomorrow's Yunjin gonna think about that?"

"Tomorrow's Yunjin's problem," she mumbles, death-gripping her blanket. Smart girl. She knows your next move would've been stealing it.

"Then it's tomorrow's me problem too!" You can't help but laugh, and it finally gets her to peek one eye open.

She lets out the longest, most dramatic sigh. "Fine. Fine. You win."

Your shared laughter is soft, comfortable. It's weird how quickly Yunjin became your person here. Maybe because she's as new to this as you are—no pressure to measure up to badasses like Chaewon or keep your guard up around intimidating figures like V and Jeon.

She joined two months before you did. For her, it meant saying goodbye to having her own room, but she says it was worth the trade-off. Girl's a mess when it comes to sleep schedules, but she keeps your shared space spotless and her determination is s̶c̶a̶r̶y̶ impressive. Like, you've seen her practice seduction techniques until 3 AM, and now here she is, dragging herself up at dawn for... well, croissants and self-improvement.

There's something genuinely good about Yunjin. She's always there—to help, to listen, to just be. Five months in and everyone in Seduction already adores her. Yeah, she's clumsy as hell during physical training, but her mind is sharp. Nothing gets past her—it's like she's got a built-in lie detector.

After yesterday morning's... incident, you're extra grateful for her company.

You both grab your digital cards from your bedside tables—can't go anywhere in this place without them. They're basically your whole identity here, determining which doors open for you and which stay firmly shut.

The castle corridors feel endless this early. Most members are probably still sleeping or doing whatever gang members do at dawn. Your footsteps echo softly as you and Yunjin make your way to the cafeteria, keeping the conversation light.

"Have you had breakfast here before?" you ask, watching her stifle another yawn.

"Once." She nods, her pink ponytail bouncing. "Got up at 10 though. Wasn't worth sacrificing sleep for."

You can't help but smile. "Early breakfast hits different. You'll see."

When you reach the cafeteria, Yunjin taps her digital card against the scanner. The light blinks green, and suddenly your nose is filled with the heavenly smell of fresh pastries. Inside, only a handful of early birds are scattered around the massive space. Makes sense—most people here prefer their beds at this hour.

Your eyes do their usual sweep of the room, casual and practiced. But then something pulls at you, like a magnet finding true north. Your gaze locks with dark, piercing ones.

Jeon.

"Oh, that's Jeon, right?" Yunjin's voice cuts through your thoughts. "Guess he likes mornings too."

You nod, still watching him from the safety of the doorway. Something about the distance makes you feel almost safe. He's got that thing about him—that unmistakable aura of authority that even 6 AM can't dim.

"Damn," Yunjin says after a beat, blunt as ever. "He's hot."

"Let's get food," you mutter, rolling your eyes and heading for the pastry section.

You and Yunjin load up your plates with a bit of everything, especially those famous croissants. Finding a quiet corner, you settle in to enjoy both the food and each other's company, pointedly not thinking about piercing dark eyes or brooding corners.

You try to look casual as your eyes drift back to Jeon for the hundredth time.

He's sitting there, both hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee like it's his lifeline to sanity this early in the morning. The sight of those tattooed fingers curled around plain white ceramic does something to your brain that you'd rather not examine too closely.

"You know, I heard something interesting about him." Yunjin's voice makes you jump. S̶h̶i̶t̶ Great, she caught you staring.

"Oh?" You tilt your head, hoping your voice sounds more curious than guilty.

Yunjin leans in conspiratorially, her pink hair falling forward as she drops her voice to barely above a whisper. It's kind of unnecessary given how far away Jeon is, but there's something about him that makes everyone speak in hushed tones.

"Apparently, he's got this whole... ritual thing going on. Every single morning, without fail, he makes sure he's the first one to get fresh coffee. Like, the first cup from a fresh pot."

Your eyes track back to that cup held between ink-covered fingers. Now that she mentions it, you've never seen him drink anything else in the mornings. The way he's savoring it, eyes closed and expression almost peaceful, makes you think Yunjin might be onto something.

"Every day? He's literally the first one here?" The mental image of Jeon lurking outside the cafeteria doors, waiting for them to unlock, is both hilarious and weirdly endearing.

"From what I've heard. Maybe it's a power move?" Yunjin suggests with a soft laugh. "You know, asserting dominance through caffeine consumption."

The idea of someone as intimidating as Jeon—co-leader of the Assassination Division, member of the Council of 9, literal professional killer—climbing the ranks of one of South Korea's most dangerous gangs just to secure his morning coffee makes something bubble up in your chest.. You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing too loud.

"Imagine that being his master plan all along," you snort. "Join gang, become assassination chief, get first dibs on coffee."

You both dissolve into quiet giggles, but the moment shatters when something shifts in the air. It's like thorny vines suddenly wrapping around your lungs, making it hard to breathe. You don't need to look to know who it is.

"Mind if I join the fun?" V's voice slides over your skin like honey laced with poison, playful but with that edge that makes your hair stand on end.

His arms drape over your shoulders without warning, caging you and Yunjin in what should be a friendly gesture but feels more like being trapped. Your muscles tense automatically. There's something about V that keeps you perpetually on edge—like admiring a rose only to remember it's got thorns that could draw blood.

Yunjin manages a wobbly smile, but you can tell she's as unsettled as you are by his sudden appearance. "We were just... talking about coffee."

"Coffee?" V drawls the word like it personally offends him. He pulls back, throwing his arms behind his head in that carelessly graceful way of his, but stays close enough that you can smell cinnamon. "Boring. Now, this new training program? That's something worth discussing."

His eyes glint with mischief, reminding you of a cat playing with its food. "I'm keen to see what you girls bring to the table. Should be... intriguing, don't you think?"

The way he says it makes your skin crawl. There's nothing overtly threatening about his words, but the undercurrent is clear—the Assassination Division isn't known for playing nice, and V seems to view the upcoming cross-training as his personal playground.

"I'm sure it will be enlightening," you say carefully.

V's energy is infectious, but not in a good way. More like a disease you're trying not to catch.

He chuckles, and those thorny vines around your lungs squeeze tighter. "Oh, I'm sure it will be. And don't worry, yours truly will be there to add a little spice to the mix. Can't let things get too dull, can we?"

Before you can respond, his attention snaps to something—or someone—across the cafeteria. With a dismissive wave that somehow manages to feel both elegant and insulting, he strides off as suddenly as he appeared.

You exchange looks with Yunjin, both of you sagging with relief once he's gone. She looks as drained as you feel, like V's presence alone sucked all the energy from the room.

"Well, that was... something," Yunjin says, and you could write a whole essay about everything packed into that single word. Her pink hair is still slightly disheveled from where V's dramatic entrance messed it up.

"That's one way to put it." You try to shake off the phantom feeling of thorny vines around your lungs. V's presence leaves you feeling like you've been through some kind of emotional washing machine—tumbled around and wrung out.

"But oh my god." Yunjin's whole face suddenly lights up like she's remembered something amazing. The whiplash from her mood shift almost gives you vertigo.

"What?" You ask, though part of you already knows where this is going. Yunjin might be shy and perceptive, but she's also a total simp when it comes to pretty faces.

"He is SO handsome?" Her voice rises with genuine awe. "Everyone kept saying he looks like a prince, but I thought they were exaggerating. They were not."

You raise an eyebrow, wondering if you were even in the same conversation just now. Sure, V's gorgeous—that's kind of his whole thing. The dangerous beauty, the dripping poison. But after feeling his aura wrap around you like a boa constrictor, 'handsome' isn't exactly the first word that comes to mind.

"Did you miss the whole creepy vibe?" You keep your voice low, even though V's long gone. Some habits die hard in this place. "He talked about the training program like he's planning to turn it into his personal episode of Squid Game. With popcorn."

"Yeah, but like..." Yunjin waves her hand dismissively, "have you seen his face? Those cheekbones? That��jawline?"

"The way he's probably plotting our deaths as we speak?" You counter, but you can't help the smile tugging at your lips. Trust Yunjin to focus on the aesthetics while completely ignoring the red flags. It's kind of adorable, in a concerning way.

"Doesn't change the fact that he's eye candy," she says with zero shame, stabbing her fork into her breakfast. "Like, premium, expensive, imported chocolate level of eye candy."

"True," you admit, finally taking a proper bite of your croissant.

And it is true—V's got that whole ethereal beauty thing going on, like a masterpiece painting that happens to be slightly cursed. The kind of face that belongs in museums but also probably comes alive at night to terrorize security guards.

But even as you acknowledge V's obvious appeal, your eyes betray you, drifting back to that other corner of the cafeteria. Back to dark eyes and hurricanes.

Back to Jeon.

It's not like you mean to look.

It just... happens.

Like your gaze has some kind of magnetic programming that keeps pulling it in his direction.

Which is s̶t̶u̶p̶i̶d̶ inconvenient because the last thing you need is to get caught staring at one of the most dangerous men in Kkangpae while you've got croissant crumbs on your face.

The rest of your morning slips by without V popping up again to make your skin crawl. You try to focus on getting ready for what's coming, but your mind keeps drifting to the upcoming training.

Working with Jeon and V's division? Yeah, that's not anxiety-inducing at all.

When you step onto the training field outside the castle, the change of scenery hits different. After being cooped up in the gang's concrete maze, the open space and towering trees feel almost surreal. The cold morning air bites at your lungs—a wake-up call you didn't ask for but probably need.

Today's not just another training day. It's your first cross-training with the Assassination Division, and the tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with one of V's knives.

Your stomach does this weird flip-flop thing as you walk towards the gathering crowd. Working with Jeon after... that incident? Not exactly on your bucket list. The memory of your last encounter sits heavy in your chest, making each step feel like you're walking through mud.

The Assassination Division is already there when you arrive, looking like they stepped out of some action movie poster. Some look ready to murder, others look ready for a nap. But it's Jeon who catches your eye—impossible not to, really. It's like the air itself is swirling around him like a storm about to break.

He's got that look on his face—you know the one. All business, no bullshit, could probably kill you with his pinky finger.

No sign of V though.

Makes sense, when you think about it. Those two aren't exactly besties—more like two wolves forced to share the same territory. Their whole approach to killing is different as night and day.

Jeon's all about precision. Clean shots, minimal mess, maximum efficiency. He's the type to plan every detail, calculate every variable. Need someone taken out from two buildings away without anyone even knowing what happened? That's his specialty. The human equivalent of a surgical strike.

V though? He's chaos incarnate. Gets up close and personal with his kills, leaves a message written in blood if he feels like it. He's the guy you call when you want someone dead and don't care how messy it gets. Planning? Fuck planning—V works on pure instinct and improvisation.

The crowd goes quiet as Jeon steps forward. The atmosphere shifts, less like a raging storm now and more like the heavy air before thunder breaks. When he speaks, his voice does that thing where it demands attention without actually raising in volume. And despite everything—despite knowing better—you find yourself leaning in slightly to catch every word.

"Your state of mind is everything in this line of work," he says, dark eyes scanning the crowd like he's reading everyone's potential in real time. "A calm, collected mind can mean the difference between life and death."

The task he lays out seems simple enough: shoot the cardboard target, hit the center, don't mess it up. But as you watch others take their turns, that knot in your stomach keeps getting tighter.

The gun feels wrong in your hand. Not that you haven't held one before—basic training covers that—but this is different. This is him watching, and somehow that makes your palms extra sweaty.

Then your turn's up.

Walking to the mark feels like crossing a minefield, every step measured and tense. Your heart's going so hard you can barely hear anything else.

Focus. You need to focus.

But Jeon's standing right there, making the air thick and hard to breathe. Your finger hovers over the trigger, but doubt creeps in like poison.

The target blurs in and out. You can feel Jeon watching, that heavy gaze picking apart every flaw in your stance. The pressure builds in your chest until you're sure something's gonna snap.

Just a bit longer. You need to be absolutely sure before taking the shot.

It's not like Seduction gets much practice with actual weapons—your arsenal usually involves batting eyelashes and strategic flirting, not bullets and gunpowder. So it's no wonder the gun starts slipping through your sweaty fingers.

You tighten your grip. A surge of determination hits you like a shot of adrenaline. Come on. It's just cardboard. You've handled way worse situations than this. You can do this.

Your finger starts to squeeze the trigger—

BANG.

That... wasn't your gun.

You flinch, turning toward the sound before you can stop yourself. Through the corner of your eye, you catch smoke curling from Jeon's pistol.

He's standing there looking bored, arm extended like this is just another one of his daily mornings. The gun fits his hand like it was molded for him, an extension of his body rather than a weapon.

When your eyes snap to the target, there it is—perfect shot, dead center, because of course it is.

A̶s̶s̶h̶o̶l̶e̶ Show-off.

You lower your gun, lips pressed tight. His gaze sits heavy on your shoulders, hurricane pressure bearing down until you want to scream. His face gives nothing away, but those dark eyes say plenty—and none of it's good.

"If you're not quick enough, you'll get killed." His voice cuts like ice. "Let that be a reminder for everyone else."

The words hit like a slap. Heat rushes to your face—anger, embarrassment, frustration, all mixing together into something that makes you want to either punch something or crawl into a hole. Preferably punch him, but you're very aware of everyone watching this little show he's putting on.

Both divisions are staring, and you've never felt more like a fish in a very small, very exposed bowl.

Your eyes meet Jeon's, and suddenly breathing gets hard. His stare hits different—those dark eyes boring into yours like he's trying to read your soul, pupils blown wide in a way that makes your stomach do weird flips.

That silver lip ring catches the light when his mouth twists into something s̶e̶x̶y̶ condescending. He opens his mouth—probably to tear into you some more—but then—

BANG.

Everyone drops like puppets with cut strings. Pure instinct.

It's instant chaos. Voices rise into a crescendo of shouts and commands, bodies moving with practiced urgency.

It's kind of beautiful, in a messed-up way—how quickly personal beef gets shelved when shit hits the fan. One minute Jeon's looking at you like you're dirt on his boot, next second he's barking orders to keep everyone safe.

Your heart's in your throat as you scan the crowd for a flash of pink hair.

Yunjin.

But Yunjin's nowhere.

The sea of faces blurs together—no Kazuha, no Eunchae, not even Sakura. Even Chaewon's vanished, which is weird because she's usually got this sixth sense about danger.

Another shot cracks through the air. Your fingers tighten around your gun until your knuckles go white. Your eyes keep drifting to the treeline, where shadows dance between patches of dark green.

A calm, collected mind can mean the difference between life and death.

His words echo in your head, which is ironic considering how not calm you feel right now.

Fuck it.

You're moving before you can second-guess yourself, legs carrying you toward the forest. Maybe it's stupid, but you need space to think. To be calm, like he said.

Plus, the trees might give you cover—an advantage you desperately need right now.

The forest swallows you up. Sunlight filters through leaves overhead, painting everything in shifting patterns of light and shadow. Every step crunches on dead leaves, making you wince. So much for stealth.

V wouldn't be happy.

The chaos from the training ground fades the deeper you go, replaced by normal forest sounds—birds chattering overhead, small animals rustling in the bushes. It's almost peaceful, if you ignore the whole possible death situation.

You spot it then—a ridge overlooking the training ground, hidden behind thick bushes. Perfect vantage point, if you can reach it. The climb makes your muscles burn, but you manage. Up here, you force yourself to breathe slow and steady, trying to quiet your racing heart. Your fingers trace the gun's cold metal like a lifeline.

Your back hits the tree with a thud. The bark scrapes against your spine through your shirt, but you barely notice. Every nerve in your body is focused on that rustling sound behind you.

Footsteps.

Your breath catches. They're quiet—too quiet to be some random person stumbling through the woods.

No, these are the steps of someone who knows how to move silently. Someone trained.

Adrenaline floods your system as you press yourself flatter against the tree. Your fingers tighten around the gun until your knuckles go white. Through a gap in the leaves, you try to catch a glimpse of whoever's approaching, but the foliage is too thick.

Friend or foe?

The question pounds in your head with each careful footstep drawing closer. Your mind races, too many possibilities—it could be an enemy, could be another member searching the area.

Could be death or salvation walking your way.

The steps are almost upon you now. Your breathing goes shallow, controlled. You might be exposed up here, but they don't know that. Surprise is your only advantage right now.

Shoot or strike?

The dilemma tears at you. A gunshot would alert everyone to your location. And if it turns out to be an ally... F̶u̶c̶k̶ No. Hand-to-hand is safer. Quieter. Less explaining to do if you're wrong.

Your muscles coil tight as a spring. When the footsteps are close enough, you launch yourself from behind the tree in one fluid motion, aiming to take them down hard and fast.

Instead, you slam into what feels like a brick wall.

Oh.

It's Jeon.

His reflexes are insane—before you can even process who he is, he's already moving. The air sweeps around you as he twists, disarming you with embarrassing ease. Your gun hits the ground with a clatter that seems to echo through the whole forest.

Recognition hits you both at the same moment. That flicker of shock in his eyes quickly turns to his usual look of disdain, because of course it does.

Then—a misstep.

Your ankle rolls, sending white-hot pain shooting up your leg. You stumble, sucking in a sharp breath. His grip on you loosens just slightly, and something that might be concern flashes across his face before his usual cold mask slips back into place.

"You okay?" His voice is gruff, like the words are being dragged out of him against his will.

"Just perfect," you snap back, because fuck his concern when your ankle feels like it's on fire and your pride hurts even worse.

He just stands there, staring at you with those dark eyes that see too much.

"What the hell were you thinking?" A pause, one eyebrow lifting. "You have a gun, don't you?"

You almost laugh. Because of course. If you'd shot at him, he'd be lecturing you about trigger discipline. Attack hand-to-hand, and suddenly you're an idiot for not using your weapon.

You seriously can't win with this man.

"Well, good thing I didn't use it on you then." The words come out lighter than you feel, dancing between playful and pissed. "And what are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be back there playing commander?"

"That's what deputies are for." The casual way he says it makes your teeth grind. "Besides, I dispatched a team to check the gunfire. Just my luck, running into you instead."

"Pleasure's all mine, chief." You load the title with all the sarcasm you can muster.

"And you?" His dark eyes study you like you're a particularly puzzling target he can't quite line up. "Any reason you're out here instead of following orders?"

"Didn't get any orders to follow." You cross your arms, ignoring how his presence makes your skin prickle. "And that ridge over there?" You jab a finger toward the overlook. "Perfect vantage point. I was trying to be strategic before you showed up."

He actually grimaces at that, like your logic physically pains him. But before he can open his mouth to deliver what's surely another lecture, you add:

"Just my luck, running into you instead."

The words—his own words turned back on him—hit their mark. His eyebrow twitches just slightly, and satisfaction blooms warm in your chest.

Score one for you.

But before you can inwardly celebrate, he grimaces. He actually grimaces before he opens his stupid mouth again.

"That?" His voice drips with condescension. "You think that's prime real estate for observation?" The asshole holds back a laughter. "Alright." He says, and you ponder the merits of hitting him with a rock.

But then he begins walking, and you trail after him, partly because s̶c̶r̶e̶w̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ he's wrong and partly because... well, where else are you gonna go?

"Remind me again—which one of us specializes in persuasion and observation?" You can't keep the annoyance from your voice. His arrogance is starting to give you a headache.

"And which one of us is known for sniping?" He tilts his head just enough for you to catch the silver flash of his eyebrow piercing. "You think I don't know a thing or two about picking vantage points?"

"Just because you can shoot from far away doesn't mean you know the best places to shoot from." The words come out sharper than intended. "What works for a sniper might not work for surveillance. They're different skill sets."

"How so?" He doesn't even bother looking back now. "A lookout's a lookout, smartass."

Your hands find your hips. "You know what? Ask me that again when you sit in on our cross-training. Might learn something useful."

"Learn from an ensign?" His tilt is mocking. "No—learn from you?" He lets out a low chuckle that makes your teeth grind. "Pretty sure it works the other way around."

"Forgot about Flower?" You can't help the snark in your voice. "She's a chief too, and I'm sure she'd love to put you in your place."

The exhale he lets out is so exaggerated it has to be for dramatic effect. "You're insufferable."

"Feeling's mutual, chief."

You trail behind Jeon through the darkness, trying to ignore how his mere presence makes the night air feel electric against your skin. The silence wraps around you both, broken only by your footsteps until—

A rustle in the underbrush.

Before you can react, his hand clamps around your wrist. No warning, no words—just the firm press of tattooed fingers against your pulse point as he yanks you behind a massive rock. You crash against him, bodies colliding in a mess of limbs and s̶h̶i̶t̶ startled breath.

You open your mouth to tell him exactly what you think about being manhandled, but his finger presses against his lips. Shut up. His eyes scan the darkness beyond your hiding spot, focused and lethal.

And suddenly you're way too aware of him.

The moonlight paints him in silver and shadow, highlighting things you've never noticed before. Like how his eyebrow piercing catches the light—two tiny beads of silver that draw attention to the way his brow furrows in concentration. Or how that lip ring glints when his mouth sets in that stern line you know too well.

There's a scar on his left cheek—barely there, really. Just a whisper of a mark that makes you wonder what story it tells. Your eyes drift lower, catching on the small mole decorating the left side of his neck. It's such a delicate detail on someone who radiates danger, like finding a flower growing through concrete.

But it's his eyes that f̶u̶c̶k̶ y̶o̶u̶ u̶p̶ catch you off guard. Dark and deep, framed by stupidly long lashes that flutter when he blinks. They're beautiful in a way that makes your chest tight—and isn't that just f̶u̶c̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ fantastic? You didn't need to know that about him.

This close, you can see the tiny lines at the corners of those eyes. They speak of sleepless nights and heavy choices, of burdens carried too long alone. Watching him like this—he feels different now, less like a storm trying to drown you and more like standing in summer rain.

The realization hits like a punch to the gut: you're seeing Jeon. Not the cold-as-ice division chief or the intimidating Council member. Just... him. Human.

Complex.

His fingers are still wrapped around your wrist like an iron band. If anything, his grip's gotten tighter, and you're caught between wanting to yank free and being weirdly aware of how warm his hand is against your skin in the cool night air. It's hard to tell if you're feeling trapped or protected.

The footsteps draw closer—deliberate, confident. Not someone trying to hide.

You watch a muscle tick in Jeon's jaw, the kind of tiny detail you wouldn't normally notice if you weren't pressed so close to him. It's fascinating, in an annoying way, how he can look so calm while radiating such intense energy.

His eyes flick to yours for just a second, but it feels loaded with... something. Like you're suddenly partners in this mess, whether you like it or not. It's more communication than you've had in all your previous conversations combined.

The rustling gets louder. You hold your breath. Jeon's gone statue-still beside you, but you can feel the coiled tension in him. His dark eyes snap to a spot in the trees, then back to you with unnerving intensity.

"Shoot there."

You stare at him like he's lost his mind. "What?"

"There." His voice is barely a whisper, rough with urgency. He jerks his chin toward whatever he's seeing that you're apparently missing.

"You want me to shoot a tree branch?" The skepticism in your whisper could cut glass. "Seriously?"

"Just do what you're told." The words rumble out of him like distant thunder, crackling with impatience.

You give Jeon a look, but arguing isn't an option right now.

The gun feels heavy as you line up the shot. Your finger finds the trigger, and for a split second, everything goes quiet. The bang echoes through the trees, making your ears ring. You watch as the bullet hits exactly where Jeon wanted—that innocent-looking branch that apparently wasn't so innocent after all.

A net explodes from the darkness like some kind of ninja trap, shooting toward the approaching figure. But whoever it is moves like water—fluid, impossible, beautiful in a terrifying way. The net hits empty ground with a sad little flutter while your brain tries to process what just happened.

Beside you, Jeon goes still. If you weren't pressed so close, you might have missed that tiny hitch in his breath—the only sign that this wasn't part of his plan. His eyes narrow just slightly, that crack in his perfect mask making your stomach do weird flips.

He pushes you back against the rock, putting himself between you and whatever's coming. The stone digs into your spine, cold and rough through your clothes.

Then everything happens at once.

A shadow vaults over your hiding spot, moving with deadly grace. Gunshots crack through the night, and suddenly Jeon's shoving you down, his body covering yours. The world spins into a blur of motion and sound, your pulse drumming so loud you can barely think.

When reality settles back into focus, you watch the figure reach for their mask. Your fingers tighten on your gun, waiting to see what kind of threat managed to dodge one of Jeon's traps.

The mask comes off.

Oh for fuck's sake.

V's grinning like the cat that got the cream. "Paintball night!" he announces with way too much glee for someone who just scared the shit out of you.

Relief and irritation war in your chest. Of course it's V. Who else would turn a simple training exercise into their personal dramatic performance?

You watch Jeon's shoulders drop, but the annoyance is written all over his face. His jaw's so tight you can practically hear all the curses he's not saying.

Always the professional, even when he's irritated.

V's eyes dances with delight as he watches Jeon simmer. "Don't look at me like that, Kookie," he coos, lips curling into that signature smirk that makes you want to take a step back.

Cookie?

You blink, trying to process that nickname. Looking at Jeon—all dark clothes, silver piercings, and intimidating tattoos—the last thing that comes to mind is anything remotely cute or sweet. The mental image of him buying cookies from some terrified boy scouts makes you bite back a laugh.

Now that's a story you'd pay to hear.

Jeon's eyebrow shoots up in that way that somehow manages to say f̶u̶c̶k̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ more effectively than actual words. His tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, jaw working like he's physically holding back whatever he wants to say. He's irritated.

"I'll give you some advantage," V sighs dramatically, thorny vines wrapping around your lungs even from this distance. "No fun beating you when you're unarmed." The words drip with amusement, like this whole thing is his favorite game. "See ya."

With one last unsettling grin, he melts into the darkness. Because of course he does. Dramatic asshole.

You're still sprawled on the ground, processing what just happened. Leave it to V to turn a regular night into some twisted paintball training session. The man's idea of "improving stealth skills" is giving everyone heart attacks.

Beside you, Jeon's muscles finally uncoil from their battle-ready stance. He looms over you, and you can't tell if the expression on his face is more annoyed or relieved.

"You gonna get up or what?" The words come out gruff, but there's something else there. Something that might be concern if you squint.

Then his hand appears in front of your face. You stare at it for a second, surprised. It's weirdly bare compared to his tattooed arms, and you hesitate before taking it. His grip is firm but careful as he helps you up.

The whole night feels surreal —one weird training session bleeding into another. You glance at Jeon as he stretches, working out the tension in his shoulders.

The mystery of "Cookie" tugs at your curiosity, but one look at his face tells you now's not the time to ask.

Some mysteries are probably better left unsolved.

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© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[landopoet]

two prizes.

pairing lando norris x journalist!reader

warnings smut, oral (fem receiving), mentions of alcohol

synopsis that day was not the first time you and lando had met, and he helps you remember that

author’s note posting my older works, thanks to @clovermoters for the collage up top!

♯

Excitement pulsed through your veins at the mere sound of engines roaring.

The amount of people trying to push past you made you anxious, but you knew it was all part of the experience. Everyone was bunching up to watch one of the greatest events of all time— the Miami GrandPrix.

Once you make it through the crowd, avoiding elbows and shoulders of people much taller and energetic than you, the entrance that you need comes into view.

You weren’t just excited for the interviews you were going to watch up close, but also the entire concept of the race. The hustle of engineers in all these garages, working their hardest to get the drivers in and out of the pits with minimal time to waste. Not to mention the drivers themselves, having to sit in the cars for multiple hours over the race weekend with no complaints— they chose to do this, they deal with the consequences.

That’s exactly what excited you. The reasoning for their choice to do this, you wanted to ask each and every one of them why they wanted to do this, what was so interesting?

You guessed their answer would be the same as yours if you were asked why you became a sports journalist.

Keeping your amazement at bay, you observed the race, focused on everything going on even though it was a lot to keep up with. But that’s exactly what you were there for.

You were sitting in the grandstands, intently watching the cars fly past you, when your phone rang. The caller ID said it was your coworker who had also been at the race but disappeared about ten minutes ago.

“Hello?”

She sounded distressed when you heard her voice. “Hey, love. I was wondering if you could take over the post-race interviews?”

Today was supposed to be a sort of intern day for you, meaning you were just going to watch your colleague interview the drivers and better understand what the etiquette is for it. You hadn’t expected to have your first interview today.

“Uh, why?” You asked, in a whisper. “You know I’ve never interviewed anyone before, right?”

“So?” She seemed much more confident in you than you were in yourself. “You’ve studied journalism for a few years now, yeah? I don’t think you’d have taken an internship at SkySports for nothing.”

“I mean, I guess?” You shrug. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to speak to actual drivers, though. What if I make a fool of myself?”

“You won’t if you remember that they’re just people doing their jobs, and you’re doing your job by asking them questions.” She makes a good point and you sigh in defeat.

“Alright, I’ll do it. Send over the information you’ve written.”

“Sorry.” You hear her slightly laugh. “You gotta fend for yourself with that one, hun. It’s a cruel world we live in. Cheers.”

With that, the call ended and you were left with nothing but anxiety weighing on your shoulders. The rest of the race seemed to fly by in mere minutes, your mind too focused on the pressure of your first ever interview.

Well, not first ever.

You imagined the day would come sooner or later, so you’d practise a conversation with one of the drivers by speaking to yourself in the mirror. That, and watching multiple interviews through the years, soaking up every bit of information you could about the process of it.

Before you knew it, you were standing in a sea of people with their cameras, waiting for the drivers to make their way to you.

It wasn’t that nerve wracking when you actually started talking to them, and by the time you got to Daniel, you had lost all feelings of anxiety, instead laughing along to his jokes.

You thought so, at least. A feeling of intimidation crawled up your spine when your eyes locked with Lando Norris, a driver for Mclaren. You noticed the piercing look from across the room as he spoke to a different interviewer, his green pupils tracking your every move as you spoke to Oscar.

The interview with Oscar wraps up and he begins turning away from you. “Good luck on your next race!”

Oscar smiled at you as he walked off to somewhere you could only guess.

If you had been anxious before, you were probably five times as anxious now, because Oscar Piastri leaving the spot in front of you meant that Lando Norris would be replacing him. And, for whatever reason, he was making you incredibly nervous.

You looked down at the ground as Lando approached you, waiting to hear what you had to say. You couldn’t bear looking up at him, knowing he’s already staring at you. But it was part of your job and you had to stay professional.

“Hello, Lando.” You said, cheerily.

“Hi,” he grinned at you, sweaty and all, his dimples appearing for a split second. “How are you?”

“I’m alright, thanks, how was the race?” You asked with a smile, ignoring the butterflies in the pit of your stomach when he smiled at you again.

Lando’s green eyes studied your face, soaking up each detail he missed since the last time he had seen you. He knows you don’t remember him and he doesn’t need you to, it’s kind of nice to feel something without reciprocation from the other.

After a long while, Lando shrugged. “Yeah, uh, the race was pretty good, I mean, I got first place, so I’d say it’s good. Y’know, aside from Oscar’s incident, but that’s not something we can predict, it just happens.”

You watched intently as he explained the race, your eyes oddly drawn to his lips. The pattern at which they move, and the tempting way he pokes his tongue out to tap the corners of his lips, makes you weak.

This was horribly unprofessional of you, and you knew that, but the charms of this young british racer had worked their magic on you, and you weren’t strong enough to resist it.

You felt like it was just the two of you in the room and both of you were trying your damn best not to break, one for more reasons than the other.

“Yeah, it seems like it was a lucky race for you, the pace of your car was incredible to watch.” You pointed out, looking down at the race data on your clipboard. “The RedBull’s were a bit slower this race, do you think that gave you an advantage?”

“Well, they already win races left, right and centre. They have to be bad sometimes.” Lando stifled a laugh. “But, uh, I don’t know. I think it all came down to the car and my ability to control it. The pace was insane, honestly, I wasn’t expecting it to be faster than a RedBull.”

The joke made you giggle and you quickly hid your face by looking away for a mere moment, in an attempt to recollect yourself. Thankfully, none of the cameras were on your face.

“Or it’s just pure talent, I’d say.” You look back up at him, his eyes never once leaving your face. He’s so smiley and it’s contagious, so you can’t help but smile at him, too. “Any plans for the celebration? You must be feeling ecstatic about your first win, so I assume the celebration must be as big as this.”

Lando puts the tube of his water bottle to his lips and takes a long sip, eyes still glued to you. He wasn’t even blinking, far too focused on the shape of your lips and how good they felt that night. That one night you can’t seem to remember.

“I’m not entirely sure, if I’m honest.” He shrugs, tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth, biting back the widest grin you’ve ever seen on his face. “I still have to call my mum and siblings.”

“I’m sure they’re incredibly proud of you,” you smile, politely. He’s still intently looking at you, cheeks now burning red at your comment accompanied by his massive grin.

It was time to wrap up your chat with Lando, but, in all honesty, you really didn’t want to. You felt something brewing in your chest at the mere feeling of his eyes burning into you, and it excited you.

Still, you ignore it. You had to stay professional, even if it was all too much to handle. “It was lovely chatting with you, Lando. Congratulations and good luck next race.”

“Will you be interviewing me next time, too?” Lando asks, making no move to walk away just yet. His eyes narrowed onto yours when you looked back at him, an adorably surprised look on your face.

“Uh,” you look away for a moment, not sure what to say. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I look forward to seeing you again. Maybe.” He gave you another cocky smirk and nodded his head as a farewell, leaving you nothing but a blushing mess in the media pen.

After a plethora of interviews back to back, you were tired beyond words. Your feet were sore, your back hurt, you felt your eyelids close if you stood still for longer than two seconds. The image of your soft hotel bed made you motivated to keep moving through the building and find your way out.

“Oh, hey!” A familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. “Y/N, was it?”

Your eyes find their way to the person behind you and you’re happy to see that it’s Daniel. “Daniel! Hi, nice to see you again.” You extended a hand to shake and he smiled as he squeezed it.

“Was lovely talking to you earlier. You asked such great questions, honestly, it made me really think about my answers, y’know?” You hadn’t noticed how both of you started walking again and he kept up with your pace. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Oh, interviewing?” You ask and he nods eagerly, with the energy of a little boy. “This was my first official day of interviewing, actually. I had to step in for my colleague.”

“No way.” He muses, jaw slack and eyes glimmering with interest. “The way you interacted with me had me thinking you were carrying a load of experience.”

You stifle a laugh and watch the path ahead. “Yeah, well. I practised a lot in my room. You have race sims, I have a mirror and a hairbrush for a microphone.”

Daniel’s laugh echoed in the mostly empty area around you. “You’re funny, too.” He muses once again, shocked by how much fun you can be. “Listen, I know it’s not professional to ask this, but are you free tonight?”

“Oh, uh,” you look up at him and hesitate. “I’m not interested in-“

“No, no,” Daniel waves his hands in the air as if to stop the words spilling from your mouth. “God, no. I was going to ask if you’d like to come to the club later, all of the drivers are gonna be there to celebrate Lando’s win. It could be fun.”

You paused in your steps, brows furrowing as you felt a beam of energy climb up your spine. All of a sudden, your bed didn’t seem like the comfiest thing in the world and you were willing to exchange it for a pair of heels and a dress.

“I’d like that, yeah.” You smiled at Daniel and he reciprocated the gesture.

He gives you a piece of paper with something scribbled on it and you gladly pluck it from his fingers. “Shoot me a text when you’re ready, I’ll give you a ride to the club. Cheers.”

And with that, he disappeared into the car park, the only remainder of his friendly presence being his lingering smell in the air and the scribbled number on the back of a grocery store coupon.

“Thanks, mate.”

Lando’s hand felt heavy as he shook it with someone he barely knew, congratulating him on the win. He’s been stuck in this large group of people for way too long, desperately looking for an escape. And, eventually, he found it— you.

His eyes have been stuck to you for the past fifteen minutes, patiently waiting for the people to finish congratulating him so he could finally talk to you.

When the perfect moment arose, Lando swiftly shimmied between the dancing bodies and made his way to the bar. You were still sitting there, looking as beautiful as the last time he saw you, but now you were right in front of him and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Lando’s voice startles you when he plops down in a bar stool beside you.

You smile at him, feeling the same anxiety crawl up your spine as the last time you saw him. “I’d say the same, but this feels like the perfect place for a race winner.”

“I honestly hated it before,” he shrugged, looking out into the crowd. “I used to party after a podium, second place being the best I’ve ever had.”

“But now you’re here as a winner.” You’re still looking at him when he turns back around. There’s something so nostalgic about the way he looks at you, almost as if you’ve already been there and seen him before. “A victory looks good on you.”

“Yeah?” He flashes a grin your way, raising a brow. “I’ll try to win more then. Maybe I’ll get to see you again that way.”

“I’m free whenever you want to see me,” you blurt. Lando’s eyebrows raise with surprise when you say that and he bursts into a small laugh when you start flailing your hands around in the air. “Sorry, that’s so unprofessional, I didn’t mean to–“

“It’s fine,” he assures you. “I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to get out of here. But that’s so unprofessional of me.”

“Mr. Norris!” You exclaim with a faux gasp. Lando watches with an amused grin on his face as you smile back at him. “I’d like that very much.”

It didn’t take long for both of you to swivel your way past the drunk people in the club and find yourselves in a cab. Lando’s hand made a home on your thigh and you didn’t mind. It felt warm, secure and turned you on when he inched it closer to the hem of your dress.

Time flew fast in the company of a race winner, especially one as charming and attractive as Lando. You didn’t realise how many hours had passed after you had left the club and, frankly, you didn’t really care.

The moments spent with him felt somehow nostalgic, as if you had felt this way before. But you’re sure you just dreamt it. There’s no way you’ve met Lando before and didn’t remember it.

It felt silly to think that, so you just ignored that thought and continued watching the intoxicating way his lips moved as he spoke. He’s been talking about something for the past five minutes and you didn’t hear a word of it, being far too focused on the pattern of his freckles, the dip of his nose and the gentleness of his eyes when he looked at you.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, voice gentle and cautious.

You bit back a smile, eyes flickering between his eyes and lips. “You.”

The nostalgic feeling snuck its way into the back of your mind when he kissed you, his lips and hands feeling like a long lost home. You somehow already knew the melody of his breathing and the pattern of his hair, the familiarity of his kiss starting a fire in your chest. You felt the warmth of his lust spread through your torso, creeping up your neck, softly toying with the giggle in your throat.

Stars spackled on the inside of your eyelids and the harmonious sounds leaving your lips finally drew you back to that night.

Warm hands. Gentle strokes and soft kisses. Careful fingertips trailing their way down your hips. Lando’s tongue danced on your aching bud and you felt the whole world fade away. The mere touch of his fingers on your hips to keep you still reminded you of the last time.

“Mmh, fuck.” Lando hummed against you, the vibrations sending bolts of lightning through your veins. “So good. So fucking good for me, y/n.”

His tongue swirled around your throbbing clit, bringing you that much closer to the edge. The alcohol in your system mixed with the pleasure coursing through your body was a lethal combination. Your legs shook as you felt your walls close around nothing, Lando’s mouth attached to you as if he was a starved man and you were the first thing he could get his mouth on.

“I’m- I-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before making a mess all over his goatee. He licked up every last bit of you, the sweet taste of you making a perfect combination with the aftertaste of whiskey in the back of his throat.

You stayed lying there, eyes fluttering closed and lips parted, deep breaths inflating your chest. Lando watched you, green eyes soaking in every inch of you— he wasn’t sure if you’d remember him this time, so he made the most of every moment spent with you.

After a while of him watching you, you felt Lando get up and come back in a few minutes, a damp towel in his hands. He touched your most sensitive parts with the weight of nothing, carefulness sewn into every movement he made. At that point, you were drifting in and out of consciousness, not fully knowing when the bed dipped under Lando’s weight again.

You felt his arms wrap around you and pull you in, the warmth of his bare skin heating your cheek. You were hesitant to speak, cautious as to not say something wrong. So, instead of speaking, you lifted your head and connected your lips with his again, the minty taste of his lips making you smile.

“It was you.”

Lando hummed into the kiss, as if to acknowledge that it was him, but also to ask what you meant.

You pulled away, fingers immediately making home in his curls. “That night.” A familiar look painted itself across Lando’s face. “I tried so hard to remember whose lips felt like home, and only the weight of yours reminded me.”

“You were thinking about me?” Lando inquired, brushing stray strands of hair away from your face.

You nodded. “Every day since that night.”

Lando smiled before kissing you again. “You never left my mind. I kept reminiscing that night, waiting for fate to magically bring us back to one another.” He whispered against your hairline, lips pressing soft, love-filled kisses against your skin. “Didn’t expect to win two prizes in one day.”

A small laugh slipped past your lips. “What a lucky man you are, Mr. Norris.”

“The luckiest.” He hummed. “Because I finally have you.”

[mqriuss]

Now playing: Bonus track - Everything I Want

from 'bad girls that haven't been caught' series

an extra ramble post about rindou and reader dating stuff

playlist | series masterlist

rindou would always be late to school and no one cared, everyone stopped caring after a while. but ever since he started dating you, he's always early just to wait for you at the gates so you could walk to class together.

ran also doesn't care about being late to class but rindou is usually there to make sure he doesn't sleep the whole day. well now ran has to make use of the annoying alarm clock since his little brother decided to be a boy in love. good for him i guess, he'd think to himself.

i think that's how everyone would figure out something was happening between you two. one day, rindou just decided to be super early to school and is just standing around by the gates. people were already whispering and looking at him, but it doubled when you arrived.

"what the hell?" you froze and rindou looked up from his phone. he grinned upon seeing you, taking out an earphone. "why are you early? this is so weird, oh my god."

"hey, can't help i wanted to see you sooner," he said, chasing you when you started walking ahead of him.

"get away from me, you're not rindou! what did you do to him?!" you picked up the pace and let a smile appear when he laughed.

everyone immediately starts talking, and the word spreads like wildfire. which you obviously expected. you had more reason to hide your relationship with rindou compared to your ex, but this time will be different.

you didn't like basketball—even before fumio, you never liked it. you hated it even more after him. but it's not so bad anymore. it's not so bad when you're at the outdoor court, alone with rindou, watching him do a bunch of tricks that he said would "make the crowd go wild if he was on the team." it's not so bad when you're in his backyard, playing with him and sometimes with ran too.

rindou was a better and more patient teacher than fumio. it's something you didn't expect from him at all. patience. fumio tried playing basketball with you too, but he hated it because you sucked so bad and he'd try to teach you but he gets pretty emotional when you can't get it right. when you look back on it you think, why didn't you just dump him at that moment?

now that you're with rindou, he plays basketball with you just to spend time together. it didn't matter that you weren't that good at it, he'd never get frustrated with you and i mean, how could he when you seem to be having some fun? yeah. you think basketball's fun with rindou now.

your favourite moment has got to be when he carried you on his shoulders in front of the hoop, giving you a closer distance to throw the ball in. he's not that tall so you couldn't just dunk it in. because of that, the moment wasn't as cute as he was imagining, but you were giggling over sitting on his shoulders and feeling taller and getting the ball in more easily. the moment wasn't as cute as he was imagining because it turned out to be even cuter. it's really just because of you though.

for a while, you made it clear to him that you wanted absolutely no pda in school and he respected that. so this was causing a lot of discussion among other students—were you dating or just really good friends? "but why is y/n friends with the delinquent to begin with?" not many people knew about the times you tutored each other so it was still a pretty huge surprise when you started appearing around the school together.

it was an even bigger shock when on white day, rindou came to school with a little bouquet of your favourite flowers and a burned cd with songs that reminded him of you. it had "for y/n, on white day" written on it. (your valentines day gift for him was a lot more subtle, so not many people had connected the dots at the time).

ever since that day, showing affection in school started small. rindou would sit by your desk just to chat or sit in silence with you as you ate lunch together. he'd also share his earphones with you, letting you listen to all the playlists he's made about you, or songs he just likes at the moment.

then you started holding hands. and sometimes he'd have an arm around your shoulders as you walked. everyone is still in shock whenever they see you two together. it was just, such an unlikely pair. smartest girl in class with a delinquent, no one can wrap their heads around it to this day.

the kicker is that some of rindou's grades had went from Fs and Ds… to Cs, and you don't even tutor him that much. he started paying a bit more attention in class, maybe because he started gaining a bit of interest in some subjects after hearing you ramble on and on about actually interesting things you've learnt in class.

now all you need to know about fumio is that he started dating the first year manager but it lasted like two weeks before she finally realized how shitty of a boyfriend he is. and when that didn't work out, he tried talking to you again, thinking you'll obviously want him back again if you had the chance. besides, your parents love him more than they'd like rindou and your classmates ship the two of you anyway. you two will always look great together.

but he was so fucking wrong. rindou meets your mom for the first time when he walks you home after school and she had gotten home from work early. safe to say, she prefers the boyfriend who helps her do the dishes, isn't picky about the food she makes and compliments her cooking instead of comparing it to what the private chef at his home is making. your mom loves nothing more than seeing rindou stuffing his face with rice and katsu, speaking with a slight mouth full, "ma'am, this is michelin."

and your dad prefers the boyfriend who doesn't treat you as competition all the time, and listens to him ramble about all kinds of stuff in the living room. turns out, they don't care that the new boyfriend has tattoos on his body or dyes his hair and has piercings. he's good to you, and your family. fumio's got nothing on rindou. he's everything you want.

Previously on the playlist:

08 - Greenlight

[s4svnn]

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter Thirty Two

The evening had started off lighthearted and fun—jokes flying across the room, the scent of Kayla’s home-cooked meal filling the air as we laughed between bites of perfectly seasoned food. For a while, everything felt easy, like the kind of night you look back on and smile at. But now? Now I was standing in the wreckage of Kayla’s overly competitive nature, dealing with the aftermath of what could only be described as absolute chaos.

I sighed, rubbing my temples as I surveyed the scene before me.

Leah was sprawled out on the couch, one arm hanging limply over the side, her mouth slightly open as if she had passed out mid-sentence. Serena, on the other hand, was curled up on the floor near the coffee table, clutching an empty red solo cup like it was a lifeline. Cyrus, well… he was face down on the carpet, completely unmoving, as if the alcohol had quite literally knocked him unconscious.

And the culprit behind this disaster was sat cross-legged on the other couch, looking far too pleased with herself as she sipped on a bottle of water, her expression smug. “Lightweights,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head.

I shot her an exasperated look. “This is your fault.”

Kayla shrugged, unbothered. “Hey, I didn’t force them to go shot for shot with me. They chose violence.”

I groaned, sinking into the chair beside her. “You challenged them, Kay. You literally stared Leah dead in the eye and said, ‘Bet you can’t keep up with me.’”

She grinned at that. “And I was right.”

I glanced at the disaster zone that was her living room. “You could’ve just let them enjoy their drinks at a normal pace, but no—now I have three bodies to deal with.”

Kayla snorted, setting her water bottle down. “Oh please, they’ll be fine. A little hungover tomorrow, but fine.”

I sighed, shaking my head as I turned to Adam, who was sitting in the armchair across from us, completely unaffected by the chaos around him. He had a glass of whiskey in one hand, swirling the liquid absentmindedly as he scrolled through his phone with the other. Out of everyone, he was the only one who hadn’t indulged in the challenge. He hadn’t even looked remotely interested in drinking, which wasn’t surprising. He never really seemed like the type to let loose that way.

I studied him for a second, taking in the sharp lines of his face, the way his jaw tensed slightly as he read whatever was on his screen. It was strange—being around him like this, in such a casual setting, after everything.

“You’re staring.”

His voice cut through my thoughts, and I quickly looked away, feeling my face heat up. “No, I’m not.”

He raised an eyebrow, setting his phone down. “Yeah, you were.”

I huffed, crossing my arms. “You’re literally sitting in my line of sight.”

He smirked, the corner of his lips tilting up in amusement. “Right.”

I rolled my eyes but said nothing, instead reaching for my phone, only to find Kayla watching me with an all-too-knowing look on her face.

“What?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Kayla hummed, taking a slow sip of her water. “Nothing.”

I didn’t believe her for a second.

Before I could press her on it, Cyrus let out a loud groan from his spot on the floor, shifting slightly as if trying to wake himself up. He failed miserably, groaning again before going still.

Kayla laughed. “Told you they’d be fine.”

I shook my head. “You’re impossible.”

Kayla stretched her arms above her head, looking down at the drunken mess she had single-handedly created. “Welp, I guess I’m on clean-up duty,” she said casually, clapping her hands together before glancing at me. “I’ll haul these guys over to the guestrooms before they start drooling all over my house.”

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. “Need any help?”

She waved me off. “Nah, I got this. You just relax.”

I didn’t argue, mostly because I knew Kayla well enough to understand that when she said she had something handled, she meant it. She crouched down and effortlessly pulled Serena up, slinging her arm over her shoulder before dragging her towards the hallway.

Cyrus and Leah were next, but I wasn’t really paying attention to Kayla anymore. Because the second she disappeared down the hall, I realized something.

Me and Adam were alone.

The air in the room shifted immediately, a noticeable change in atmosphere that sent my nerves into overdrive. The distant chatter from Kayla moving the others barely registered in my ears as the reality of the situation set in. It was just the two of us now, sitting in the dim glow of the living room, the silence between us thick enough to drown in.

I stole a quick glance at him, but he was already looking at me. His dark eyes were unreadable, intense in a way that made my stomach flip. He hadn’t moved from his spot in the armchair, but the way he sat—legs spread slightly, one arm resting against the armrest while the other still held his glass of whiskey—made him look far too composed, far too unaffected by the weight of the silence hanging between us.

I, on the other hand, felt like I was about to combust. I cleared my throat, breaking eye contact as I fidgeted with the hem of my top. “So… you’re not much of a drinker, huh?”

Adam took a slow sip of his whiskey before setting the glass down on the table beside him. “Not really.”

I nodded, grasping onto the small conversation thread like a lifeline. “Why not?”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze still on me. “Never saw the appeal of getting wasted and embarrassing myself.”

I huffed a small laugh. “Fair enough. But you have to admit, watching them embarrass themselves was pretty entertaining.”

A ghost of a smirk touched his lips. “I’ll give you that.”

Silence settled over us again, heavier this time.

I shifted in my seat, suddenly hyper-aware of every single movement I made. The air between us felt charged, like something unspoken was lingering in the space we refused to address.

Adam must have sensed it too because he leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. “You uncomfortable?”

It wasn’t a question.

I blinked, startled by his bluntness. “I—what?”

He studied me for a moment before leaning back again, his expression unreadable. “You keep fidgeting. You haven’t looked at me for more than two seconds. And you keep doing that thing with your fingers.”

I glanced down at my hands, realizing I had been twisting the hem of my shirt this entire time. I immediately let go, feeling my face heat up. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

A slow smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, his gaze dark and full of something I couldn’t quite place. “No?”

I shook my head, determined to keep my voice steady. “No.”

His smirk widened slightly as he leaned back in the chair, his fingers lazily tracing the rim of his whiskey glass. “Then come sit on my lap.”

My breath hitched.

“What?”

His eyes didn’t waver. “Come sit on my lap.”

His words hung in the air between us, thick with unspoken tension. I had expected him to be joking, for that familiar smirk of his to break through any second now and for him to laugh at my flustered expression. But he didn’t. He just sat there, watching me with that dark, unreadable gaze, his fingers lazily tracing the rim of his whiskey glass as if he hadn’t just thrown my entire equilibrium off balance.

“No thanks,” I finally managed, but my voice wavered slightly, betraying the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside me.

Adam tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smirk. “What you scared?”

That was it. That was the moment something inside me shifted. The way he was looking at me, the way he had thrown that challenge into the air as if he already knew I wouldn’t take it—I refused to let him have that satisfaction.

So I straightened my back, lifted my chin slightly, and before I could overthink it, I strode over to him with newfound confidence. He look shocked at first, as if he didn’t believe i’d do it then his smirk deepened slightly, as if he was amused by my sudden boldness, but it faltered for just a second when I swung one leg over his lap, settling onto him so that I was facing him directly.

Our faces were close. Too close.

My knees rested on either side of his thighs, my hands lightly gripping his shoulders for balance, and his own hands instinctively found my waist. The warmth of his touch seeped through the thin fabric of my top, sending a shiver down my spine, but I ignored it, forcing myself to maintain my composure.

I met his gaze, refusing to waver, and smirked. “See? Not scared—”

But I never got to finish that sentence. Because in the next instant, his hand slid up my back, tangled in my hair, and before I could even process what was happening—he kissed me.

My mind went blank.

His lips crashed against mine with a mix of hunger and frustration, as if he had been holding himself back for far too long and had finally decided to stop fighting it. His grip on my waist tightened, pulling me flush against him, and I gasped softly against his mouth. He took advantage of the small opening, deepening the kiss with an intensity that made my toes curl.

This was nothing like I had expected.

Adam was always so mysterious with everything he did, but this—this was raw. Desperate. His lips moved against mine with a need that sent heat flooding through my body, his hands gripping me like he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon.

And the worst part?

I wasn’t stopping him.

I could feel his smirk against my lips as he felt me give in, but before I could even get annoyed at his cockiness, he suddenly shifted, turning the tables completely.

In one swift movement, he pushed forward, flipping us so that I was now the one pinned against the couch, his body hovering over mine. The weight of him, the warmth, the sheer dominance in the way he moved—it sent my heartbeat into a frenzy.

His mouth left mine, trailing down to my jaw, then lower to the sensitive spot just below my ear. I sucked in a sharp breath, my fingers instinctively gripping the fabric of his shirt as his lips brushed against my skin.

“Still not scared?” he murmured against my neck, his voice rough, teasing.

I hated how much I liked the way he sounded, how his words sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in my stomach.

I swallowed hard, trying to gather my thoughts. “Not scared,” I whispered, but it came out far less convincing than I had hoped.

Adam chuckled softly, his breath warm against my skin. “Liar.”

His hands slid lower, gripping my thighs as he pressed closer, and for a second, I thought I might actually die from how intense this was. But then—

A loud crash echoed from the hallway.

Both of us froze.

A groggy, drunken voice followed. “I think I knocked over a lamp…”

Serena.

Reality came crashing back down like a bucket of ice water.

Adam pulled back slightly, his breathing still uneven, his eyes locked onto mine with something dark and unreadable lingering in them. Neither of us spoke, the weight of what just happened still hanging in the air between us.

Then, as if sensing my inner turmoil, Adam smirked. He reached up, gently brushing his thumb against my bottom lip, his voice dripping with amusement.

His smirk deepened, his thumb still grazing my lip. “Looks like we just hit match point Banks.”

Jungkook’s POV:

Dressed head to toe in all black—an oversized hoodie that hung loosely off his frame, fitted joggers that showcased his lean build, and sleek combat boots that echoed with every step—Jungkook made his way through the airport, his presence undeniable. His dark sunglasses shielded his tired eyes, giving him an air of mystery and detachment, while his sharp jawline was set in a firm, unwavering expression. His posture and demeanor screamed that he was not in the mood for any pleasantries, and it was clear to anyone who crossed his path that approaching him would be a mistake.

As he moved through the bustling terminal, people instinctively stepped aside. Some recognized him, others just sensed the force of his presence. His every step radiated a quiet authority, a silent command that made the world around him feel a little smaller. No one dared to interrupt his pace. The murmurs of the crowd grew distant, as if they knew this was someone not to be trifled with.

Without breaking his stride, Jungkook passed the check-in counters and headed straight toward the exclusive first-class lounge. The security personnel at the entrance, who had seen countless high-profile individuals walk through those doors, gave him a nod of recognition, ushering him in without a word. Inside, the atmosphere was calm, hushed even. A far cry from the noise of the terminal, the lounge was a sanctuary for those accustomed to luxury. Businessmen in tailored suits sipped on expensive whiskey, their conversations low and measured, while celebrities relaxed in plush chairs, their faces hidden behind designer sunglasses. The subtle hum of quiet chatter and clinking glasses filled the air, but none of it seemed to catch Jungkook's attention.

His eyes scanned the room briefly, but his focus remained singular. He moved with purpose, bypassing the distractions of the lounge, and made his way to a private corner near the back. There, his assistant, Minjun, was already handling the final touches of his check-in, ensuring that everything was in place for the flight. Jungkook didn't acknowledge him immediately, instead sinking into a large leather chair with a deep sigh, as if the weight of the world rested squarely on his shoulders.

He pulled out his phone, his fingers moving swiftly across the screen as he navigated to the file his informant had sent him. The file was a mix of personal details, surveillance footage, and updates that had been gathered over the last few weeks. He opened it with a sense of purpose, his eyes scanning each line of information as if he were memorizing it. The details about Aylah Jace Banks stood out immediately—her address, a modest apartment in a quiet part of the city, and her job at a small café. There was mention of her coworkers, a small but close-knit group, and it struck him that she was someone who lived a life far from the chaos of his world.

But it was the next piece of information that made his breath catch, his jaw clenching as he read the words. Her new boss.

The words reverberated in his mind, and his hand tightened around his phone as the realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He read through the note again. Aylah had gotten particularly close to him. Too close.

His eyes narrowed as he continued scrolling, coming across the man’s name—Adam. The café owner. According to the report, Adam was in his late twenties, tall, heavily tattooed, and built like someone who spent more time in the gym than behind a coffee machine. Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the grainy surveillance image that accompanied the report, studying the man's face. The picture was blurry, but it was enough. Adam’s rugged features, the tattoos covering his arms, the cocky smirk that seemed to radiate from the photograph—it was all too clear.

So, this was the guy.

A wave of frustration and anger bubbled up inside him, but he shoved it down quickly. He didn’t have time for that now. What he needed was to focus. His fingers drummed against the edge of the chair as he stared at the image, a dark thought forming in his mind. The more he thought about it, the more the situation irritated him. How had she gotten so close to this man? What had drawn her to him? Was it the way he looked? His personality? Jungkook couldn’t say, but it gnawed at him. He had to find out.

His mind flicked back to Aylah, to the time they had spent together. He could remember her laugh, the way she had always made him feel like the world was lighter, more vibrant, whenever she was around. But that had been before. Now, she was out of his reach, and the thought of another man—this Adam—getting too close made his skin crawl.

Jungkook scoffed under his breath. Doesn’t matter. Whatever was going on between them was about to end.

Just as he was about to keep reading, the presence of someone standing too close to him made him sigh. He could already smell the floral perfume before the voice came.

"Hey there, handsome," a woman purred, her voice laced with a playful, flirtatious tone.

Jungkook didn’t even bother looking up from his phone. His eyes remained glued to the screen, fingers swiping and typing with practiced ease. His focus, unwavering. “Not interested,” he replied flatly, his voice cold, giving nothing away.

The woman, unfazed by his initial dismissal, let out a soft chuckle, the sound rich with amusement. She clearly wasn’t going to give up so easily. “Oh, come on, maybe you should reconsider. You never know what you’re missing.”

Jungkook’s fingers paused mid-swipe, but he still didn’t glance at her. The sound of her voice was starting to get under his skin, but he wasn’t about to let it show. With a slow sigh, he leaned back in his chair, his posture languid but commanding. He had no intention of letting some random woman interrupt his peace.

After a moment, he finally lifted his gaze, his dark eyes locking onto hers. She was leaning against the armrest of his chair, eyes glimmering with interest, a knowing smile playing on her lips. Jungkook tilted his head slightly, studying her for a moment.

The woman was attractive, that much was clear. She had long, tousled hair that framed her face and a bold, confident air about her. But none of it made a difference.

A slow, amused smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he took his time looking her up and down, his expression shifting into one of cool disinterest. He wasn’t impressed, and it showed.

“Why would I want a cheap bitch like you?” he said smoothly, his tone dripping with mockery, the words cutting through the air like a blade. He leaned back further into the chair, arms crossed over his chest, daring her to respond. His eyes were cold, unblinking.

The woman blinked, taken aback for just a moment. But then, her smile faltered, and she opened her mouth to retort, only to be interrupted by Jungkook’s unyielding stare. He wasn’t done.

He let out a quiet laugh, low and dismissive, before continuing. “I have a girlfriend.”

The words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the playful energy she had been trying to project. His voice, now slightly more serious, carried a weight of finality that left no room for debate.

Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing her features. “You have a girlfriend?” she repeated, as though she couldn’t quite process it.

Jungkook’s gaze softened ever so slightly, but the smirk remained. “Yeah. I do.” He leaned forward, his eyes never leaving hers. “And I’m not looking for anything else. So stop wasting my time.”

Her eyes widened in sheer offense, her lips parting in a scandalized gasp. With an indignant scoff, she spun on her heel and stormed off, her designer heels clicking furiously against the marble floor.

Jungkook barely blinked. Pathetic.

"Sir," a voice, calm yet insistent, pulled Jungkook from the depths of his thoughts. He recognized it immediately—the steady tone of his assistant, Minjun. Looking up, he saw Minjun standing in front of him, his posture impeccable, his expression a perfect blend of professionalism and subtle concern. "It’s time to board."

Jungkook’s fingers brushed against his phone screen as he quickly pocketed it, his mind still lingering on the quiet thoughts that had consumed him. He stood, stretching his arms slightly, feeling the tension in his muscles loosen. The weight of the upcoming journey settled in his chest, but he didn’t allow it to show. He ran a hand through his dark hair and adjusted the hoodie draped casually over his frame. He had become accustomed to the feeling of being under the spotlight, but this trip felt different—this was personal.

Without another word, he nodded at Minjun, who led the way toward the private boarding gate. The two of them moved with practiced ease through the airport’s high-end terminal, bypassing crowds of busy travelers and security checks, until they reached the sleek, black door that would lead them to the plane. As they stepped inside, a flight attendant, dressed in an immaculate uniform, greeted him with a respectful bow, her smile warm but professional.

"Good evening, Mr Jeon," she said, her voice as smooth as the fabric of her attire. "Please make yourself comfortable."

Jungkook offered a polite nod in return, his eyes scanning the cabin as he walked further inside. The interior of the private jet was exactly what he had expected—luxurious, spacious, and designed with meticulous attention to detail. The warm glow of ambient lighting highlighted the plush leather seats and polished wood accents, offering an air of serene elegance. He made his way to his designated seat, a corner berth in the first-class section that offered a panoramic view of the world outside. He sank into the seat, feeling the soft cushioning mold to his frame, and leaned back, letting the weight of the journey settle.

As the plane began to taxi down the runway, Jungkook slipped on an eye mask, blocking out the world around him. The hum of the engine filled the cabin as he shifted slightly in his seat, trying to find the most comfortable position. His mind, however, remained far from the quiet comfort of the moment.

There were still seven hours ahead of him—seven hours of solitude. He needed that time. Seven hours to mentally prepare for the moment that had been building up for what felt like an eternity. Seven hours to remind himself that this time, there would be no hesitation. No turning back.

In London, he would finally see her again. Jungkook’s jaw clenched as he allowed his mind to focus on the purpose of this trip. His fingers gripped the armrests as he took a slow, steady breath. There was no room for doubt, he wasn’t letting her go this time.

Aylah’s POV:

As Adam’s smirk lingered, the sound of Serena fumbling outside the door snapped me back to reality. I exhaled, stepping back from him, my head still spinning. He watched me for a moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes before he finally sighed.

“I should probably head home,” he murmured, stretching slightly before standing up. His usual cocky demeanor had returned, but there was something else beneath it—something more guarded.

I nodded, unsure of what to say. I felt… overwhelmed. I watched as he pulled on his jacket, running a hand through his already-messy hair before making his way toward the door. He paused just before stepping out, turning back to me with one last glance.

"Night, Banks," he said smoothly, as if what just happened between us was nothing more than a casual moment in a long list of them.

I stood there for a second, trying to process everything, but then Serena groaned from the hallway, reminding me that my best friend was still very much in need of assistance. With a sigh, I grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen before making my way to her.

She was slumped against the wall near the guest room, her usually perfect curls now a mess around her face. One of her heels was missing, and her makeup was smudged. I crouched down beside her, nudging her shoulder.

"Serena, come on," I whispered. "You need to drink this and get to bed."

She let out a tired whine but took the glass anyway, sipping it in slow, exaggerated gulps.

"You’re the best," she slurred, smiling sleepily. "Love you so much, AJ."

I shook my head with a small laugh. "Yeah, yeah, love you too. Now, come on."

With a lot of effort and some stumbling, I managed to haul her into the guest bed, pulling the covers over her before she mumbled something incoherent and immediately passed out.

Finally alone again, I made my way back to my own room, shutting the door behind me with a quiet click. The second I was inside, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. My fingers absentmindedly traced over my lips, the memory of Adam’s kiss still fresh—too fresh.

What the hell just happened?

Adam was—well, Adam. Frustrating. Cocky. Infuriating in every possible way. Sure, he was attractive. More than attractive. And clearly, he was an amazing kisser. But what did that mean? What did I want it to mean? The last thing I needed was another no-label, undefined situation with a guy who had a reputation for keeping things casual. I had been through that before, and it never ended well.

But then why did my skin still tingle where he had touched me? Why did my heart race just remembering the way his lips felt against mine? I exhaled sharply, shaking my head as if I could physically get rid of the thoughts. I needed sleep. That was all. A clear mind. A fresh start in the morning.

So, I climbed into bed, forcing myself to ignore the lingering sensation of Adam’s touch, the smirk in his eyes when he said match point, the way he made me feel. I turned over, squeezing my eyes shut. Just go to sleep, Aylah.

The next morning a loud banging on my door nearly made me fall out of bed.

"AJ! Get up!" Kayla’s voice rang through the apartment, still groggy but far too loud for this early in the morning.

I groaned, rolling over and checking my phone. 8:07 AM. Ugh. I had barely slept.

Dragging myself out of bed, I opened the door to find Kayla standing there, her hair in a messy bun and sunglasses perched on her nose—classic post-hangover survival mode. She held out a mug of coffee like an offering.

"Here. You look like you need this even more than I do," she said, her voice still scratchy.

I took it with a mumbled thanks, sipping at the hot liquid.

She leaned against the doorway, tilting her head slightly. "Sooo… anything interesting happen last night after I passed out?"

I nearly choked on my coffee. "What?"

She smirked, adjusting her sunglasses. "Oh, come on, I may have been drunk, but I swear I saw Adam leaving the living room looking all smug."

I forced a laugh, trying to act casual. "We just talked for a bit. Nothing happened."

Kayla narrowed her eyes. "Uh-huh. Right."

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the heat creeping up my neck. "Shouldn't you be dealing with your hangover instead of interrogating me?"

She sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. But this conversation isn't over."

The warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as I tied my apron around my waist, the familiar hum of the café bringing me back to reality. It was busy as always, the comforting clatter of cups and quiet chatter from early-morning customers surrounding me like white noise. I focused on setting up the pastry display, trying to shake off the remnants of last night—the way Adam had kissed me, touched me, the way his voice had sent shivers down my spine.

Stop thinking about it.

I was just placing a tray of croissants onto the counter when a groggy but familiar voice broke through my thoughts.

“AJ….."

I turned to see Serena, Cyrus, and Leah standing a few feet away, all of them looking like they had barely survived the night before. Serena’s hair was a tangled mess, her eyeliner smudged beyond repair. Leah had on oversized sunglasses despite the fact that we were indoors, and Cyrus… well, he just looked like he regretted every life decision he had ever made.

I arched a brow. "Well, look who finally crawled out of the depths of their hangovers."

Serena winced, dramatically rubbing her temples. "God, don’t talk so loud. My brain feels like it's melting."

Cyrus groaned, leaning against the counter. "I swear I’m never drinking again."

Leah pushed her sunglasses up her nose. "You say that every time."

He shot her a half-hearted glare. "Yeah, well, this time I mean it."

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. "So… should I even ask how much of last night you guys remember?"

Serena groaned. "Very little." She looked up at me, her face filled with guilt. "But I do remember being a complete mess, and I’m so, so sorry for putting you through that. Seriously, Ay, you should’ve just left me passed out on the floor."

I let out a small laugh. "I considered it. But then I figured you’d probably roll under the coffee table and never be seen again."

Leah chuckled, but then she sighed, taking a step closer. "No, but really, we feel awful. We were so out of it, and you were probably just trying to enjoy your night, and instead, you had to babysit us."

Serena nodded. "Yeah. And apparently, I knocked over a lamp? Sorry about that."

I shook my head with a small smile. "Guys, it’s fine. I promise. You were drunk, not evil. And honestly? It was kind of funny."

Serena perked up. "Wait, really?"

I smirked. "Yeah. You kept calling me ‘Mom’ and tried to make me read you a bedtime story before you’d agree to go to sleep."

Cyrus snorted. "That actually sounds like something she’d do."

Leah laughed, nudging Serena. "Aren’t you a little old for bedtime stories?"

Serena groaned. "Oh my God, I hate myself."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Relax, I’ve seen you all way worse. Just maybe don’t black out in my living room again."

Cyrus placed a hand over his heart. "Scout’s honor."

Serena grinned. "Okay, Mom."

I rolled my eyes, swatting at her playfully. "Go drink some water before you pass out again."

We were still laughing when the bell above the café door jingled.

And just like that, my laughter died in my throat.

Adam’s black t-shirt clung to his toned frame in a way that made me want to scream, and his dark hair was still slightly tousled, as if he had just rolled out of bed looking perfect. But what made my stomach tighten wasn’t how good he looked. It was the way my mind immediately threw me back to last night.

His lips on mine. His hands gripping my waist. His voice, low and teasing, whispering against my skin.

Heat rushed to my face, and I quickly looked down, pretending to suddenly be very interested in rearranging the croissants. But Adam? Completely unfazed.

He barely even glanced in my direction as he walked past, his expression unreadable, his posture relaxed like nothing had happened at all.

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the edge of the counter.

Of course. Of course, he was acting like it was nothing. What did I expect? That he’d walk in here and immediately sweep me off my feet? That he’d pull me aside and confess that he couldn’t stop thinking about me?

Get a grip, Aylah.

Cyrus must have noticed something was off because he nudged me lightly. "You okay?"

I forced a smile, nodding quickly. "Yeah, just tired."

Serena, thankfully, was too busy chugging a glass of water to notice anything. Leah, however, shot me a look like she knew exactly what was going on.

I ignored it.

Instead, I turned back to my work, trying my best to pretend that Adam’s presence wasn’t making my heart race, that his indifference didn’t sting just a little more than I wanted to admit. But as I reached for the coffee cups, I caught him in my peripheral vision, standing near the back of the café.

And even though he was acting like nothing had happened I could’ve sworn I saw the corner of his lips tug up in the faintest smirk.

I forced myself to shake off the lingering thoughts of Adam, inhaling deeply as I focused on the rhythm of my morning routine. The café was filling up fast, customers lining up for their morning caffeine fixes, and I was determined to bury myself in work.

Serena had finally managed to rehydrate and regain some of her usual energy, now busy making lattes while Cyrus handled the pastries. Leah leaned against the counter beside me, casually observing the morning rush before nudging my arm.

"So," she said, drawing out the word. "You sure you're okay?"

I sighed, keeping my eyes on the espresso machine. "Leah, if you ask me that one more time, I’m going to start charging you for emotional labor."

She chuckled, but I could tell she wasn’t convinced. "Fine, fine. I just… I saw the way you looked when he walked in."

I clenched my jaw slightly, keeping my voice even. "It’s nothing."

"Uh-huh." Leah crossed her arms, tilting her head. "You sure? Because you looked like you wanted to either run out the back door or throw a coffee at his head."

I huffed out a laugh. "Well, neither of those options would be very professional, would they?"

She grinned. "No, but they’d be fun to watch."

Before I could respond, the door chimed again, and I turned instinctively—grateful for the distraction. But instead of another wave of customers, a familiar face walked in.

His tall frame was unmistakable, his sandy brown hair slightly messy as always. He had this easygoing energy about him, the kind that always made people feel comfortable. Dressed in a fitted navy sweater and jeans, he looked effortlessly put together, his hazel eyes scanning the café before landing on us.

A slow smile spread across his lips as he approached the counter. "Well, if it isn’t my favorite barista."

Before I could respond, I felt Leah stiffen beside me. Subtle, but noticeable. Her eyes darted to Ryan, then back down to the register as if suddenly fascinated by the buttons. I smirked. Oh, this is interesting.

"Ryan, hey!" I greeted him, but as I spoke, I nudged Leah forward—just enough to make her stumble slightly.

She shot me a death glare but quickly composed herself. "Uh—hi, Ryan." Her voice was a little higher than usual, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

Ryan, completely oblivious, smiled at her. "Leah! Good to see you. How’s life treating you?"

She blinked. "Oh. Yeah. Good. Great."

I stifled a laugh. Smooth.

Ryan nodded. "Glad to hear it. I figured I'd come in for the best coffee in town before heading to the office."

Leah, still clearly flustered, took a deep breath before blurting out, "AJ makes the best caramel macchiato! You should totally order one!"

I rolled my eyes dramatically. Seriously?

Ryan chuckled. "That so? Sounds like a solid recommendation." He then turned to Leah, a teasing glint in his eye. "What about you? What do you make the best?"

Leah blinked rapidly, caught off guard. "Uh—I mean, I’m really good at…" She trailed off, looking completely lost. Then, she blurted out, "Pouring coffee. I pour great coffee."

I let out a strangled cough to cover my laughter while Serena and Cyrus were visibly shaking with silent amusement behind the counter.

Ryan, either completely oblivious or just being polite, grinned. "Then I think I'll need you to be the one to pour my coffee today."

Leah froze, her face going pink. "Me? Oh. Right. Yeah. Sure!"

She scrambled to grab a cup, nearly knocking over an entire stack in the process. As she worked on his drink, Ryan casually leaned on the counter, completely at ease.

"So, how’ve you been?" he asked her.

Leah, still flustered, cleared her throat. "Oh, you know. Living the dream. Making coffee. Getting blackout drunk with these idiots."

Ryan laughed. "Sounds about right. No surprise Serena was involved."

"Hey!" Serena called from the espresso machine. "I don’t always blackout!"

Ryan smirked. "You absolutely do."

Leah handed him his coffee—miraculously without spilling it—and Ryan took a sip. "Perfect," he said, flashing her a grin. "You weren’t lying about the coffee skills."

Leah let out a nervous laugh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Uh, yeah. Thanks."

Ryan glanced at the time. "I gotta run, but it was good seeing you guys. I’ll be back soon." His eyes flickered to Leah briefly before he smiled again. "See you around."

As soon as he walked out the door, the café erupted.

"Oh. My. God." Serena gushed, spinning to face Leah. "That was painful to watch but also incredibly entertaining."

Cyrus wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "Leah, did you really just say your special skill is pouring coffee?"

Leah groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I hate all of you."

I grinned, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Don’t worry. You only made a complete fool of yourself."

She whacked my arm. "You're supposed to be my friend!"

I laughed. "Oh, I am. Which is why I’m going to lovingly remind you of this moment for the rest of eternity."

Leah groaned again, but despite her embarrassment, there was a tiny smile playing on her lips. 

Cyrus clapped his hands together, shaking his head with an amused smirk. “Alright, enough teasing Leah. We actually have jobs to do, and unless we want Adam breathing down our necks, we should probably get back to work.”

Serena groaned dramatically. “Ugh, way to ruin the fun.”

Leah laughed, nudging her playfully. “Come on, we’ll grab more cups from the back.”

Serena rolled her eyes but followed Leah toward the storage room, still giggling under her breath. Meanwhile, Cyrus grabbed a towel, heading toward the sink to start washing the growing pile of mugs.

That left me at the counter, sorting through receipts and straightening out the bills in the register. The café had settled into a comfortable rhythm—machines whirring, quiet conversation buzzing in the background, the occasional sound of ceramic clinking against wood. It was just another normal shift, the kind I’d done a hundred times before.

But then the air shifted, subtle but undeniable, as someone stepped up to the counter. A presence. I didn’t look up right away, too focused on adjusting the register. “Hi, how can I help you?” I said automatically, my tone polite but distracted.

The lack of response caused my chest to tighten. Slowly, I lifted my gaze, and the moment my eyes landed on the figure standing in front of me, the world around me seemed to still. 

It was Jungkook.

[tinydefector]

Behind the Scenes 5- DC

Tim Drake x Male reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: classic Tim being obsessed over unknowns.

Masterlist

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The Wayne Manor was unusually quiet for a Saturday morning, save for the occasional sound of footsteps and the faint clinking of dishes from the kitchen. Tim sat in the library, his laptop open on the table in front of him, several tabs pulled up as he combed through every scrap of information he could find on Sarah, the nursery, and, most frustratingly, Y/N.  

He was so engrossed in his search that he didn’t notice the faint creak of the door opening behind him.  “You’re doing that thing again,” came Duke’s voice, breaking the silence making Tim jolt slightly, looking up from his screen. As Duke leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed and a curious grin on his face.  

“What thing?”  a frown slowly creased its way onto his lips as he stared Duke down. “You know,” Duke snickers, walking into the room and dropping into a chair across from him. “The thing where you get all hyper-fixated on something and start acting like a conspiracy theorist. You’re, like, two coffee cups away from turning this into a full-on crime board with red string.”  

Tim rolled his eyes. “It’s not a conspiracy. I’m just... looking into something.”  

“Uh-huh,” Duke said, leaning forward to peer at the laptop screen. “So what’s got you all worked up this time? Serial killer? Corporate espionage? Secret society trying to take over Gotham again?” Tim hesitated for a moment, weighing whether or not to bring Duke into this. But before he could respond, another voice chimed in.  

“Tim’s got a new obsession?” Dick sauntered into the room, his usual grin plastered across his face. He flopped onto the couch, resting his feet on the coffee table despite Tim’s glare and groaning over not wanting to have everyone snooping in his business and his mini case.  

“I don’t have an obsession,” Tim said flatly.“You totally do,” Duke said, smirking. “He’s been glued to that laptop since breakfast. And judging by the way he muttered, ‘Why would she bury that recording?’ earlier, I’m guessing it’s something juicy.”  

Dick perked up at that, his grin widening,  eagerly trying to look over Tims shoulder to see what sort of case he had been working on or piecing together “Ooh, now I’m interested. Spill, Sherlock.”  

“It’s nothing,” Tim said quickly, closing one of his tabs. “Just... something weird I noticed at the nursery Alfred and I went to yesterday.” Dick raised an eyebrow, before shooting Duke a look. “a nursery? the one Alfred dragged you to?”  

“Yeah,” Tim muttered, clearly reluctant to elaborate. Duke and Dick exchanged a look before and then Duke is leaning forward with a smile as his eyes dance across the screen trying to catch snippets of what he can read. “Okay, now you have to tell us. What’s so weird about a nursery?”  

Tim knew he wasn't getting out of this, he wasn't the only detective in the family and knowing his luck one of them would figure something out if they didn't just blatantly ask Barbara to hack his computer. He lets out a reluctant sigh, realizing he wasn’t going to get out of this. “Fine. There’s this guy who works there—Y/N. He’s... not normal.”  

“Not normal how?” Dick asked, his curiosity clearly piqued.  

Tim hesitated again, trying to figure out how to explain without sounding insane. “meta, has a way animals and plants react to him like nature takes to him. It normally wouldn't be a problem except this is me, I get a weird feeling while there, he's what’s making my detective instincts go off so i dig a bit And then there’s this video of him and Ivy...”  

That got their attention. “Wait, Poison Ivy?” Duke asked, sitting up straighter. “What kind of video?” Tim opened his saved files scrolling through until he found it, pulling up the grainy footage he’d found the night before. He hit play, and the three of them watched as Y/N and Ivy stared each other down, the crow perched on Y/N’s shoulder shifting uneasily while the plants around Ivy swayed in her presence.  

No one said a word as the clip played out, showing Ivy turning and leaving without so much as a word, while Y/N remained frozen in place. When the video ended, Dick let out a low whistle. “Okay, that is weird. Like not as weird as I was expecting but more so the fact that Ivy just straight up turned around and walked off ”  

“Exactly,” Tim said, gesturing at the screen. “Ivy doesn’t just back down like that. Not unless there’s a good reason. And then she never went back to the nursery again. Ever.” Duke frowned, leaning closer to the screen. “What’s the deal with the crow? It’s just... sitting there, like it’s his pet or something.”  

“That’s the thing,” Tim said, pulling up another clip from the security footage. This one showed Y/N walking through the nursery, with the same crow trailing after him. “Animals act weird around him. They follow him around, leave him little trinkets... it’s like they’re drawn to him.” Dick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched the second clip. “So he's a nature based Meta?, i mean it's not the first time we have had run in’s with them, but he doesn't seem hostile. So why is he on your radar?”  

“I don’t know,” Tim admitted. “He's just… his file seems to be clean, No criminal record, no connection to Ivy or anyone else in Gotham’s rogue gallery. He’s just a guy who works at a nursery.” Tim really doesn't know why he was so fixated, but after the rumours of Ivy having an apprentice and then Y/n, it couldn't be a coincidence. 

“And yet,” Duke said, pointing at the screen, “Ivy looked at him like she’d seen a ghost. That’s not nothing.” “Exactly,” Tim said, running a hand through his hair. “There’s something going on with him. I just don’t know what it is yet, i'm trying to find information, whether he's involved with Ivy somehow, and well i've heard she has an apprentice, and him showing up”  

Dick leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “You think he's involved?”  

“like 73%, there is a probability that he isn't but with everything so far, i just need to see if there is anything else with him and Ivy, because it may, may have been a fluke of two people with nature based abilities having a stare down, but even that probability is extremely low” Tim said. “Interesting,” Dick said, tapping his chin. “So what’s your next move, Detective Drake?”  

Tim rolled his eyes in annoyance. “I don’t have a ‘next move.’ I’m just... keeping an eye on things for now. He hasn't caused any chaos that im aware of, so i'm just observing ”  

Duke snorted, trying to cover up a cackle. “Yeah, right. You’re already planning to go back there, aren’t you?”  

“I—” Tim paused, realizing they weren’t wrong. “Classic Tim. You get a mystery in your head, and you can’t let it go. You’re gonna end up camped out in the nursery parking lot with binoculars, aren’t you?, mightstart calling you Inspector gadget again”  

Tim huffed, closing his laptop. “Whatever. You guys don’t get it. There’s something weird going on with Ivy, and I’m going to figure out what it is. And so far everything is pointing towards Y/n”  

“Sure, sure,” Duke said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But hey, let us know when you crack the case. This is way more interesting than patrol. I happen to enjoy when you get yourself wrapped in an obsessive state over a case”  Tim glared at him and if a look could freeze Duke it would have, but Dick just laughed, clapping him on the shoulder as he stood up. “Don’t work yourself into a frenzy, Tim. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”  

“You’re not taking this seriously.”  “Oh, we are,” Duke said, holding up a hand. “It’s just more fun to watch you spiral.”  

“I’m not spiraling!”  Tim hissed out in defence. “You are definitely spiraling,” Dick said with a chuckle. “But hey, I get it. Weird guy, weird vibes, weird encounter with Ivy—it’s a classic Gotham mystery. I’d be curious too.” Tim groaned, slumping back in his seat. 

Before anyone could say more, the subtle sound of footsteps caught their attention.  Cass walked into the room, her dark eyes scanning the scene in front of her. She tilted her head, clearly intrigued by the animated discussion.

What are you talking about?

she signs, it takes her a moment to make sure she had signed it right. And took Duke and Dick a bit longer to translate it than it did Tim. 

 

The three boys exchanged a look, and then Duke grinned. “Oh, Cass, you’re gonna love this. Tim’s got a new mystery guy.” Cass blinked, her gaze shifting to Tim. “Not like that!,” Tim said quickly, his face flustering pink as he elbows Duke. “It’s not a thing. It’s just... There's this guy at the nursery Alfred took me to. He’s… a meta who has similar abilities to Ivy.”  

Cass raised an eyebrow and sat down on the armrest of the couch near Tim, silently encouraging him to continue. “Okay, so there’s this guy, Y/N, who works at the nursery. Animals and plants act weird around him, like they’re drawn to him. And the footage I found shows him having some kind of... standoff with Poison Ivy. She didn’t attack him. She didn’t even say anything. She just... left.”  

Cass frowned slightly, her expression thoughtful.

Not normal?

she signs simply. “Exactly!” Tim said, gesturing at her like she’d just proved his point. “Show her the video,” Duke said, nodding toward the laptop.  

Tim hesitated for a moment, then pulled up the footage again and turned the screen to face her. Cass leaned in, watching closely as the grainy video played out. Her sharp eyes followed every detail. Y/N standing frozen, the crow on his shoulder shifting restlessly, Ivy’s calm but deliberate retreat. When the clip ended, Cass sat back, her brow furrowed. Her finger moves to point towards his neck and cheek.

Leaves?   

Cass pointed at the screen. “Y/N. He’s nervous, but... not afraid. Not of her.” Her voice is rather quiet and slightly raspy as she talks, making an uncomfortable face as she analyses the young man. “Calm. Like... he belongs.” she continues. “Belongs?” Tim repeated, his frown deepening. “What do you mean by that?”  

Cass gestured vaguely toward the screen. “Plants. Animals. They like him. Trust him. He doesn’t force it. It’s... natural. like..”  She's trying to find the right word but can't. “zїna biando ” Dick mutters his accent coming out for a moment. Making everyone look at him. “You said there were little leaves and vine patterns On his skin, can you zoom in enough on them?” he asked rather fascinated, he hadn't heard stories of the Fae born since he was a child. 

The room fell silent for a moment as everyone processed what Dick had said. The image is blurry but they can all make out the very fine line little leaves that seem to pulse under Y/n's skin, they look like little fine leaf ferns or something akin to them. 

“ he’s not controlling them,” Dick said slowly. “It’s more like... they’re drawn to him because of what he is. My Daj used to tell me stories about the fairies when I was little, about how they used to steal babies away when they were small and replace them. Used to scare me shitless as a kid”  

Duke let out a low whistle. “Okay, that’s... kind of cool. Still weird, but cool.” Tim, however, wasn’t satisfied. “That still doesn’t explain why Ivy backed off,” he said, staring at the screen. “She doesn’t care about people who are meta She only cares about plants. If she left him alone, it’s because she saw something in him. Something that made her think he wasn’t a threat—or maybe she was afraid of him.”  

“Maybe he isn't a meta, Dick did just say he reminded him of fairies, and I know for a fact they aren't cute little winged creatures that fly around granting wishes. Ever think he might be something outside of the normal ” Duke said, while shooting Dick a look of ‘you said it not me’  

“Or,” Dick said with a grin, “maybe he’s secretly her long-lost nephew.”  and that just makes Tim groan. “You’re not helping. One moment you're saying he's an ancient being and the next that he's her nephew you're impossible you know that.”  

Cass nodded. “But don’t push too hard,” she added, her expression softening. “If he’s hiding, there’s a reason.” Tim considered her words, then nodded slowly, he trusted Cass’ advice more than a lot of other people's. She was good at reading people and understanding them from just a glimpse. “Alright. I’ll keep digging, but... carefully.”  “Good,” Cass said, a small smile tugging at her lips.  

Duke grinned. “Man, this is shaping up to be way better than I thought. Let me know if you find anything juicy, Tim.” Dick chuckled, standing up and stretching. “Yeah, keep us updated on your new favorite mystery guy. But i'm probably going to head, i want to try and make it back to Blüdhaven before the midday rush, I'll catch you all next week, oh Jason's also organising for an arcade night next Saturday”  

Tim turned back to his laptop, her words echoing in his mind. Whatever Y/N was hiding, Tim was more determined than ever to find out. But now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Cass might be right whatever the truth was, it wasn’t going to be simple.

—----

The quiet hum of Y/N’s voice filled the small apartment as he moved from plant to plant, watering can in hand. The soft golden light of the morning poured in through the window, illuminating the small jungle he’d created on his windowsill. Each plant looked healthier than it had any right to leaves vibrant, stems strong, buds ready to bloom.  

Out on the balcony railing, the crow that frequently visited him sat fluffed up, the soft clicks and occasional caws breaking the otherwise peaceful silence as it fiddled with the toys and treats stuck in them. 

“You guys are looking better,” Y/N murmured, brushing his fingers lightly over the leaves of a small, struggling fern. His touch was gentle, as if he were afraid of hurting the delicate greenery. “Knew you just needed a little love. Glad I brought you home, hopefully this fertilizer will be more gentle on you than the stuff at work.”  

The fern seemed to perk up under his touch, its leaves ever so slightly unfurling. Y/N smiled softly at the sight, a quiet sense of pride blooming in his chest. He moved on to the next plant, a wilting orchid he’d taken from the nursery just a week ago. It had been deemed unsellable, the kind of plant most people would have thrown away without a second thought, after all orchids were known for being a hard plant to keep alive. But Y/N had seen potential in it, like he always did. Changed the substrate it was in for rock moss in hope it would help keep it from getting root rot.  

“Don’t worry, you’re going to be beautiful again soon,” he said softly. He added a small pinch of his homemade fertilizer mix and gave the orchid an encouraging tap on the side of its pot. The crow clicked again, drawing Y/N’s attention. He glanced toward the balcony, a small smile tugging at his lips. “What? You want some attention too?I just gave you blueberries and peanuts trying to swindle more treats out of me?”  

The bird fluffed itself up further in response, letting out a soft caw. “Alright, alright,” Y/N said with a chuckle, setting the watering can aside. He stepped out onto the balcony, resting his forearms on the railing as he looked out at the city. The crow hopped closer, its beady eyes locking onto him. “You’re so spoiled, you know that?” Y/N said, reaching out to scratch the bird's head. The crow tilted its head, leaning into the touch.  

Y/N let out a contented sigh, his gaze drifting back to the plants inside. The apartment was small, but it felt alive, every corner brimming with greenery, from the hanging pots in the kitchen. It was a little sanctuary in the middle of Gotham.   

As he finished tending to the last plant, stepping back and surveyed his little indoor garden. A satisfied smile spread across his face. “There we go. You guys are all set.”  

Y/N settled into his couch, the crow flying in to perch on the backrest beside him. He grabbed the remote, flipping on the TV, the soft hum of the news anchor’s voice filling the room.  

The familiar Gotham News Network “ temperature. Highs today will reach the mid-50s, but by tomorrow morning, we’re looking at lows in the upper 30s. So, make sure to bundle up and keep an umbrella handy, expect ice on the roads and perhaps even some snow!”  Y/N ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the plants by the window. If it did snow he'd have to bring all the plants from the balcony inside, he didn't want them to get frost burn. “You guys are lucky you don’t have to deal with the cold,” he muttered with a small smile.   

“In other news, a multi-car pileup on the Gotham Expressway has left three people injured and caused significant delays for morning commuters. Authorities say the accident was caused by a trailer losing control on a slick patch of road. Emergency services are working to clear the road.” Footage of flashing lights, emergency vehicles, and crumpled cars filled the screen, followed by a statement from a spokesperson for the Gotham City Police Department.  

“Thankfully, no fatalities have been reported, but we urge drivers to exercise caution, particularly with rain expected later today. And positive snow and ice in the coming days”  

Y/N sighed, shaking his head. “Gotham traffic is bad enough without stuff like that, guess ill be leaving extra earlier for my shift on monday so i dont get caught” he murmured.  

The anchor’s shifted again this time to a woman at a desk, this time to the lighter, polished tone reserved for celebrity gossip.  

“And here in Gotham, headlines as Bruce Wayne announced a new charitable initiative at yesterday’s gala. The initiative, focused on improving inner-city schools, will launch with a $10 million donation from Wayne Enterprises. Mr. Wayne, known for his philanthropic efforts, spoke briefly to reporters about the project.”  

The screen cut to footage of Bruce Wayne, dressed in a sharp suit, smiling politely as he addressed a crowd of reporters outside the venue. “This city’s children deserve every opportunity to succeed and have a chance for a better future, ” Bruce said, his tone calm and confident. “Education is the foundation of a brighter future, and it’s our responsibility to provide the resources and support they need to thrive.”  

The clip ended, cutting back to the anchor.  

“Wayne Enterprises CEO Tim Drake-Wayne also announced plans to partner with several local nonprofits to ensure the funds are distributed effectively. This comes on the heels of a recent spike in Wayne Enterprises’ stock prices following the successful launch of their clean energy program.” Y/N let out a low whistle, leaning back into the couch. “Man they are always busy, that lot” he said, shaking his head.  

Y/N lounged back against the couch, one leg draped over the armrest as he lazily flicked through the channels. The familiar static hum of old TV shows filled the room, and he settled on an episode of mind-numbing drama that he didn’t care enough to name. It wasn’t for the story; it was just background noise to accompany the quiet peace of his apartment.  

Reaching to the side table, Y/N grabbed a small stack of books he’d been working through. The worn covers and dog-eared pages spoke of his frequent use, each book filled with handwritten notes, underlined passages, and little scraps of paper sticking out as bookmarks.  

His fingers trailed over the spine of one before he opened it, flipping to a section he’d been revisiting lately: remedies for colds and flu. The weather report replayed itself in his mind—a sudden cold front, rain, and dropping temperatures. He already knew what that meant.  

Mrs. Callahan from down a floor would be knocking soon, asking for something to help with her sinuses, which he'd then remind her she needed to see a doctor over it. And Mr. Moran would probably stop by later in the week, claiming he wasn’t sick while sniffling through every word. Y/N smirked as he flipped through the pages, his fingers tapping softly against the book’s edge.  

He didn’t mind. His neighbors weren’t bad people, and they were always grateful for the little tinctures and herbal teas he whipped up for them. Better than the over-the-counter stuff, they always said. “Alright,” he murmured to himself, scanning a recipe for elderberry syrup. “Elderberries, ginger, honey, cinnamon... got plenty of that. Should probably make a bigger batch this time.”  

His eyes shifted to another section, one detailing a simple herbal vapor rub. He scratched at the faint stubble on his jawline, making a mental note to check his stash of eucalyptus oil. After jotting down a few quick notes in the margins of the book, Y/N stood, stretching his arms above his head. The soft rustling of the nearby plants caught his attention as he moved. Their leaves seemed to shift slightly toward him, as though drawn by some invisible force. He paused, smiling faintly.  

“You guys are so needy,” he teased lightly, brushing his fingers over the nearest set of leaves.  Y/N wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a large mixing bowl and a few jars from the cabinet. He worked methodically, humming softly as he pulled ingredients from various cupboards. His crow companion let out a soft caw from its perch on the back of a chair, watching him with the same curious intensity it always seemed to have.  

Y/N said, tossing the bird a small piece of dried fruit he’d left out on the counter. The crow caught it mid-air, clicking in approval as it settled down to eat. The herbs and jars are spread out across the counter as Y/N begin to measure and mix. The faint scent of cinnamon and honey filled the air as he started on the elderberry syrup, carefully boiling the berries with spices before straining the mixture into a pot.  

______________

Translation: 

zїna biando - fairy born

Daj - mother

______________

homemade cough and cold syrup 

Elderberry syrup 

1 cup dried Elderberries 

4 cups water 

½ cup honey or sweetener of choice 

A piece of ginger 

4 cloves 

2 cinnamon sticks 

(Optional add ins) 

2 sprigs of rosemary 

3 star anise 

1 tbsp of Yarrow 

Garlic and Honey 

Add garlic and honey into a jar of choice and let ferment for 4 weeks. Make sure to tip and burp your jar at least once every two days. 

Fire cider 1L worth 

1 red onion 

2-3 jalapeno's or chilli's 

1 large orange 

1 lemon 

1 head of garlic smashed 

1 bunch of thyme 

1 bunch of rosemary

Small handful of peppercorns 

5 cloves 

A cinnamon stick 

Dried cayenne pepper 

Ginger (measure with your heart) 

Turmeric (half of your ginger) 

Fill jars with raw apple cider vinegar once everything is in the jar

(Honey is Optional) 

___________________

Also, for everyone, this here was the rescue Crow I had for a while who still visits my grandmother, his name is Kohl. He's the base of the crow in the story, so I hope you enjoy it.

Let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list for this fic.

[the-crustation-sensation]

How i think arcane s2 fumbled Viktor. Coming from a disabled person

Not proofread we die like all my favorite characters

As previously mentioned, I struggle with chronic pain. I have POTs and probably EDS now that I think about it, and I use a cane on bad days since at times walking long distances is very painful

I started watching arcane shortly after discovering my own disability and I was SO happy to see a well represented disabled character, guess who my favorite character is (hard mode)

Anytime there’s someone with a physical disability represented in modern media, they’re never allowed to just… be disabled, casually. Yes disability massively affects and changes one’s live immensely, but it’s not the only all-encompassing trait of their personality. A lot of the time when I see a disabled character, they’re just there to be disabled. They don’t get a character arc outside of their disability… or much of a personality either

And sometimes having a characters arc revolve around a disability is acceptable, but it’s not ok to have a token disabled character and do nothing else with their plot line. Disability is allowed to be a part of their story, but it doesn’t have to be the whole story. Make your disabled characters people with a disability, not a blank slate token character.

And that’s why I was so pleased with Viktor in season one. He exists With his disability, not despite it. It was very refreshing to a character have a very defined personality and purpose outside being a token disabled character. Yes of course his disability is a huge part of his story, but it’s not the entire story.

Now how did s2 fumble?

In s1 I think viktors descent into illness was well written, I was kind of expecting his disability to be a big part of his overall character arc in the first place (as it so often is) but in s2 I feels like the writers almost forgot that Viktor was dying of cancer … not trying to perfect himself

I was so excited to see what s2 did with his character arc, and I just ended up.. disappointed. On surface level i loved Jesus!viktor just as much as the next fan, but when you dig deeper into his story it felt so icky

Whenever a disabled person is represented, not only does their character arc revolve around disability, it has to revolve around “fixing” said disability. And a big pattern I see is many character arcs having an undertone of radical acceptance. I.e “you where never broken, you just needed to accept yourself” “you just need to love your disability as a part of you”

No… you don’t have to love the part of you that’s actively causing you pain and lowering your quality of life, or actively killing you like Viktors terminal illness.

Self acceptance with disability is all fine and dandy, but it is SO overplayed and overwritten. You’re allowed to be frustrated with your disability, and learn to move past it.

The big point is Viktor was never trying to “perfect” himself in s1, he was trying to live.

In s2 they took the idea of Viktor working to cure his terminal illness and ran with it. They blew his arc so wildly out of proportion until he literally became a god obsessed with “perfecting” all of humanity.

And that just felt.. icky. It didn’t feel like Viktor. The Viktor in s1 had a dream of helping his people, of using his creations to uplift everyone! He never would have wanted to force all of humanity into “evolving” without their consent. And do not even get me STARTED on how he completely lost his autonomy to the hexcore, and in turn took it from so many people. That deserves a post on its own

I was so excited for the arcane writers to do something creative with his character arc, but no. Once again a disabled character fell victim to their entire arc being about fixing their disability, only to end with radical self love and acceptance

And the thing is I could get behind an arc of Viktor healing! He deserves to heal and live his life happy and healthy, but to me and him all of a sudden obsessed with “perfection” felt completely out of left field

I think my biggest problem with season 2 overall is that it lost sight of the entire theme of the show. Season one was a beautiful statement about classism, segregation, and how differently it affects people. It was representing real world problems on a scale we could understand. And the best part about s1 was that everyone on the main cast was relatively morally grey, they were humans who had realistic flaws, and made mistakes.

Nobody was shoved into a traditional “good guy/bad guy” box, and that made the show feel so much more real.

S2 was rushed, and for some reason the writers said “actually never mind, we’re going to bend everyone’s morals out of proportion so we can have a big bad villian we all fight at the end”

It had an overwhelming undertone of “forgive your oppressors so we can come together against a common enemy” which felt like a massive slap in the face to everyone who’s actually experience the classism and poverty that arcane represented in s1

I think so many of the problems with s2 could have been fixed or at least explained in detail if we got a s3. I understand as a writer myself that would have been a long, and expensive process that the arcane producers weren’t willing to go through. But I can’t help but mourn the story we could have had if the writers were just allowed to spend more time on it.

Overall, I could write an essay picking apart every tiny detail of arcane in general, so I’ll stop here. I just needed to get this rant out in writing and out of my head, I’m so insanely disappointed and mildly insulted with how the arcane writers treated Viktor, who had such potential

Feel free to share your opinions or completely disagree with me in the comments, please be kind as this is just my humble analysis and opinion.

[hayleythesugarbowl]

If you want to, could you somehow do something like Ian Hecox x daughter reader that is just fluff ?

Daddy Ian || Ian Hecox & daughter!reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: ian introduces his daughter to the smosh cast

word count: 829

warnings: none

a/n: i absolutely can! dad!ian is so important to me 🥹 this is just pure fluff and smosh cast being smosh cast. i imagine the reader to be in high school just bc of like timing and stuff. enjoy 💌

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Hooligans, my daughter. Daughter, hooligans.”

     Your dad gestured between you and the group of people standing in front of you. You waved at them.

     “Hey, I’m (Y/n), it’s nice to meet all of you,” you said politely. 

     Your dad had finally decided to give you a tour of the Smosh studios where he did his job and you had been more than eager to meet his coworkers and see how things worked. 

     “(Y/n), this is Damien, Angela, Chanse, Arasha, and Tommy,” Ian told you, pointing at everyone. “Oh, and that’s Trevor I guess.”

     The guy who must’ve been Trevor threw up his arms in surrender. You giggled. 

     “So, you’re the famous (Y/n) Hecox that Ian never shuts up about,” Tommy said. 

     “My dad’s told me so many things about all of you,” you said. “Which one of you jumped over a car?”

     “Oh I like her,” Chanse said, turning to Ian. “You’ve taught her well.”

     “Well I had to,” your dad spoke to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder playfully. “Since she doesn’t watch our videos.”

     “Don’t feel bad, I don’t either,” Angela said conspiratorially out of the side of her mouth.

     “Dad, I watched that one, remember?” You said. 

     “Beef ‘n Go doesn’t count,” Ian corrected. 

     “What’s Beef ‘n Go?” Arasha asked. 

     “Tell you later,” Damien answered her. 

     “It’s so cool seeing where you guys film,” you said, looking around. “I’ve never been in a real studio before.”

     “Hear that? She thinks I’m cool,” Ian mock whispered to his friends.

     “Ok, that’s not what I said,” you corrected.

     “Well that’s how I heard it.” Ian shrugged.

     “Your hearing’s also probably not what it used to be, am I right?” Trevor said, the mischievous grin on his face melting as Ian raised an eyebrow at him. “I-I mean, you’re in your prime, Ian. Sir. Boss.”

     “Suck up,” Tommy coughed into her shoulder, earning a laugh from Damien and Arasha.

     “Suck up? Title of yo—” Angela started. 

     “Angela,” Chanse chided, glancing at you, stopping her from saying whatever she was about to say. 

     “Yeah dude, not in front of my daughter,” Ian said to Angela. 

     It was fun, seeing your dad and his friends all talk and banter like this. You had only known them outside of Ian’s stories for a few minutes but you could already tell how close they all were. You could see why Ian loved his job so much. 

     “And, hey, getting sucked up to is just one of the perks of being the president of the company,” Ian crossed his arms, taking on a cocky look. “I’m kind of a big deal.”

     “Is he always this annoying at work?” You asked them. 

     “(Y/n),” Ian scolded, as his coworkers laughed. “I could ground you for that.”

     The room was silent a moment, everyone sharing glances of disbelief.

     “Yeah that didn’t sound right to me either,” Ian finally broke the silence. “I’m too cool of a dad for that.”

     “Again with this?” You groaned.

     “It’s an undeniable fact. Oh—I should tell them about the time I danced to Baby Got Back at your birthday party,” Ian elbowed you.

     “I still have nightmares about it,” you shivered dramatically.

     “Hey! Your old man’s still got some moves.”

     Ian demonstrated this by dancing awkwardly as you rolled your eyes at him. He eventually stopped, clutching his side, muttering about pulling something. 

      You covered your mouth to hide your laughter. Ian put his hands on his hips.

     “Ok, do you want me to give you the tour or not?” Ian asked. “Because I’ll take you home if—”

     “Yes, yes I definitely do,” you said, making your face serious now.

     “Let’s go,” Ian said, leading you away from the rest of the group. “First stop: my office. I wanna show you how big my desk is. Did I tell you that I run this whole company? ”

     “This is why no one sits with him at lunch,” you heard Arasha tell the others as you walked away. 

     You waved at them, saying goodbye as Ian lead you deeper into the building. 

     “They all seem really nice,” you said when you and your dad were out of earshot.

     “Yeah, wait until you work with them for years,” Ian joked, putting on an exaggerated British accent. “They’re terrible, really. Absolutely dreadful.”

     “Ok, Simon Cowell,” you teased. “I can tell you love them.”

     “Not as much as I love my daughter,” Ian said, placing a hand around your shoulder.

     “Love you too dad,” you responded.

     “No need to sound too enthusiastic,” Ian clutched his chest in mock offense. 

     “Too enthusiastic. Ways to describe your Sir Mix A Lot choreography.”

     “Anthony said I could throw it back!” Ian protested. 

     You giggled. “Uncle Anthony’s your best friend so he has to say that. But I can be honest.”

    Ian shook his head at you lovingly, ruffling your hair. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

     You beamed up at him. 

     “Because I’m your daughter.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope u liked this love! more fics coming out soon xx

[utilitycaster]

I’ve never actually watched a campaign of critical role live, like I first heard of it at the start of c3, didn’t finish campaigns 1 and 2 until episode like 80, and decided to just let c3 finish airing so I could binge. You’ve been in fandom since c2, and I wanted to ask two questions. How does criticism of c3 differ from c2, or even c1? Also, since the fandom has grown and the cast is now much more removed from the fans, do you think if they ever do another long form campaign they’ll try and address some complaints people have had about c3? Or will they just continue to do their own thing? It just feels (to me with no point of comparison) that a lot of people have a lot of valid complaints about c3 and I can’t imagine they’d just ignore all of it, but I could just be naive

Let me answer the ending question first, which is that I do not know how much the cast sees and honestly I wouldn't even blame them for ignoring most commentary during the campaign because I think it's hard to actually run a campaign constantly trying to make the fandom happy. I also have some guesses that the cast has their own doubts that are perhaps less harsh than what many of us have been saying, but are present. Like I can't imagine they missed how rushed the emotional beats of this campaign felt, and how bad this party is at making decisions that feel earned and interesting and don't take them 3 hours, even if they might keep that private. I think the flaws of this campaign are also a bit of a perfect storm, namely, Matt had a very specific plot in mind but ran this campaign with too open a hand, and the cast of characters they played could have used a bit more balance. I mean, I'll admit to being unimpressed by a few of Bells Hells' initial premises compared to other parties, but most actually could have become great if they were in a more character-tailored campaign like the previous two. I think without this goal of creating a big culmination in a hypothetical future campaign, this problem of having ill-suited characters for that type of plot and then pushing development aside in the service of that culmination becomes a nonissue.

Now, fan criticism. This gets tricky, because a lot of criticism, to be blunt, sounds similar on the surface no matter how valid it is. For example, "this ship lacks chemistry and development" is basically a criticism people throw at any ship they dislike. Chemistry is ultimately subjective, or at least impossible to measure in a meaningful way (this is why the But Number Go Up crowd hates when it gets brought up, like, doesn't matter how many fics your ship has if I think the characters are cold fish with each other; I'll never like it) and development is not but requires strong meta to back it up and it's hard to prove a negative.

Shipping aside, though: I think the clincher for me is that people who ended up disliking Campaign 2 any time between the ending of the hiatus or after the finale, were as a rule invested in one very specific outcome: either they quit because their ship didn't happen (including the many, many people who thought Fjord and Jester or Beau and Yasha would break up in the finale, apropos of nothing); in the case of Shadowgast that the ship didn't happen in the way they expected; or they quit because Molly was not resurrected. There was certainly a lot of trepidation going into the finale that not all stories would have a satisfying conclusion (notably Caleb, Yasha, and Fjord, all of whom did get meaningful resolution in the finale) but, at least in my circles, no one was arguing that the Nein as a whole felt robbed and that the campaign did them dirty. You had the weirdass Caduceus stans who failed to understand that his story was precisely what he wanted, or the Caleb Should Have Killed Everyone In The Assembly people, but honestly at least in my recollections a lot of those were secondary to various shipping/Molly complaints and grew out of there as a means to bash the campaign for additional reasons, rather than as a root cause for dissatisfaction themselves. Here, we have people who are ostensibly thrilled with the shipping outcome and the endstate with the gods becoming mortal and who were crowing about that up until the finale announcement at which point they, in their own words, crashed out and suddenly began agreeing with everything this campaign's detractors had said re: lack of character-focused arcs and rushed pacing, and I think that's notable.

I don't feel qualified really to speak about Campaign 1 because I wasn't there, but I think in addition to the violent misogynistic hate which Critical Role obviously did not nor should have listened to and taken as guidance, there was the usual "MY SHIP DIDN'T HAPPEN SO THIS CAMPAIGN IS BAD AND PROBLEMATIC" complaints we saw with Campaign 2.

I guess my point is, getting back to that first paragraph about shipping, you can't go off of the phrasing of criticism; you really do need to take it in context.