#i am so bad at checking docs

[icyfox17]

i love seeing how different people format their drafts/docs for their stories, it's so lovely seeing the personality on the page sobsobsosbos

people are so cool...

[zevrans-archive]

.

[mythvoiced]

-. and some more about jiang cheng, he really just does... not win. like, i mean, sure it doesn't get worse i guess, because at the very least the story gets some kind of resolution, but the story is a resolution for wei wuxian, jiang cheng is and remains a secondary character.

he doesn't have villain to unmask and a mystery to solve and a love interest to finally get together with.

i'm not insinuating he needs any of those things, but he also doesn't really get a lot, unless my memory betrays me, other than being 'forced' to realize that his vengeance towards wei wuxian is misguided and misplaced - even though it's completely understandable that he'd feel this way towards him at all, considering, WELL, IYKYK.

he has a future to build, that is true, a nephew to perhaps raise a little gentler as the story goes on, but his prospects aren't as dreamy as, again, wei wuxian's. and maybe jiang cheng doesn't need all of that to be happy, or at least content, or start on a proper path of healing, but isn't it still relatively maddening for him that wei wuxian yet again seems to be simply... more deserving than he is?

sure, that'd be an odd thing to hold onto all the way from his teen years, especially considering what wei wuxian is put through, but things do stick with you, you know?

jiang cheng is by no means fragile, okay, but... he's a good man too, at the end of the day, at the bottom of his heart. doesn't he deserve a lil tenderness 🥺 a little winding down 🥺 a little no more having to fulfill expectations or live according to what is needed in an heir, in a brother, in a figure of authority 🥺

[the-voldsoy]

what

[changeling-droneco]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is the goal of our content?

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

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

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

Gross

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It’s okay for the boys to be childish

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

More favoritism

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

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

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

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

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 14]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.3K

After Hongjoong gave you a mini tour of the place that day, you honestly couldn't remember all of it. The only place you remembered was the library and Hongjoong's office, in case you ever needed to find him... For whatever reason...

"Have a nice night, (y/n)." Seonghwa smiled as he stood by the front door, watching the chauffeur open the car door for you.

"See you, Seonghwa. Goodnight." You bowed your head and waved before entering the car. The chauffeur bowed to Seonghwa and got in to drive you home.

'She's gone. - Seonghwa'

Seonghwa sent the text and retreated back into the house, the maid closing the door behind him.

"Thanks, Hwa." Hongjoong limped into the house and fell onto the couch. His fringe stuck to his forehead from the sweat since he spent the past 30 minutes waiting in the carpark.

"Damn, they got you bad." Seonghwa frowned as he stood in front of his best friend.

"Yeah, I think I know." Hongjoong winced.

"I already called the doctor." Yeosang said, coming in as he was tucking his phone back into his pocket. Except for the cut on his lip, Hongjoong didn't have any other open wounds so he went to take a shower before the doctor came, he wanted to get the dried blood and grime off his body.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Who is it?" Hongjoong asked as he dried his hair.

"Hyung, its me and Doctor Lee." Yeosang's voice was heard on the other side of the door. When Hongjoong let out a sound of acknowledgement, the two came in.

"Good evening, Hongjoong sshi." The doctor bowed and Hongjoong just nodded, moving to sit on his bed.

"Just wanted to make sure there's nothing internal." Yeosang said to the doctor.

"Of course, excuse me, Hongjoong sshi." The doctor wore gloves and began to check Hongjoong's injuries. Yeosang stood across the bed, leaning against the dresser as he watched the doctor work.

"I'll have to remain hidden for a while, especially when (y/n) comes to the house." Hongjoong sighed.

"Why?" Yeosang tilted his head.

"How am I supposed to greet her like this, Yeosang ah? She doesn't know what we do. I can't suddenly see her like this, all beat up and injured. She'll definitely suspect something and I'm not ready to tell her what we do for a living." Hongjoong stated.

"Well, you'll have to tell her some day, cap. You can't hide it from her forever... Especially if you... plan on keeping her around you and us." Yeosang shrugged.

"Don't... say it like that." Hongjoong hissed as the doctor disinfected his wound.

"Ah, you know what I mean." Yeosang rolled his eyes. There was another knock on the door and San came in.

"What's the damage?" He asked Yeosang and the doctor.

"From my assessment, nothing major. Just some minor bruises and cuts but I would advice you to take it easy, Hongjoong sshi. The hit to your knee wasn't major but still bad." The doctor said.

"I know myself. I can't just stop working because you tell me to." Hongjoong scoffed, putting his shirt back on and buttoning it up.

"Besides that, thanks for dropping by, doc. I'll walk you out." Yeosang said and walked the doctor out.

"Easy up, hyung." San chuckled, to whom Hongjoong just rolled his eyes at. He sighed and wanted to get out of bed but winced and just leaned back, letting San come over to fluff his pillow and prop it up for him. With a look of defeat, Hongjoong leaned against the pillow on his headboard.

"Anyway, I've got... not so good news to share..." San said, sitting at the foot of Hongjoong's bed. Hongjoong raised his eyebrows in anticipation of what San had to say.

"My fight club was bugged. I went back and did a sweep, I found bugs in the VIP room." San crossed his arms.

"And we have no clue how long it has been there?" Hongjoong asked.

"I'm having my boys run through the camera videos now but I'm not sure how long that will take. These people wanted something, knowing where the VIP room was and how to bug it." San sighed.

"This is not good. We don't need this now. We need to find out when and who bugged your place." Hongjoong rubbed his temples.

"I'm on it, hyung. I'll get the footage to Yunho and Jongho, see if they can find out where the video was transmitting it." San assured and Hongjoong nodded.

"So, how are you going to face (y/n) like this now?" San changed the topic.

"Gosh it's like you and Yeosang rehearsed what to ask me. I'm not, I'll just stay in my office or say that I'm out working when she comes. I shouldn't take too long to heal up. No big deal." Hongjoong said. San nodded his head slowly, seemingly convinced.

"Woah, where are you going now?" San rushed to Hongjoong's side, seeing him suddenly swing his feet over the side and attempt to stand on his feet.

"My office. I need to get something." Hongjoong mumbled.

"Tell me where and what it is. I can get it for you, you should be resting in bed." San urged.

"I'm fine, San ah. Just let me get it and I'll come back. Don't worry and don't follow me." Hongjoong pointed to the younger, whose hands droppd by his side in defeat.

"Alright, goodnight hyung." San wished and Hongjoong nodded before they split way. He limped to his office and turned the lights on.

"Now, where was it?" He sat at his desk and opened the drawers. Finally, he spotted wha the was looking for.

"There you are." Holding the jar of leftover medical balm that you made in his hand, he smiled with content and stood back up. But when he saw his office door open, he quickly shoved the jar into the pocket of his sweatpants. Seonghwa stood there with a raised eyebrow and folded arms.

"What are you doing in here?" The second in command asked with much suspicion. Seeing Hongjoong so skittish, he knew that the captain must be hiding something.

"Nothing. How did you know I was here? Did San rat me out?" Hongjoong asked back.

"No, I was walking back from the library and saw your office lights on. No one comes in while you're not here." Seonghwa stated.

"Right... I just came to get something and I'll go back to bed." Hongjoong said, limping out from behind his desk, over to the doorway where Seonghwa stood.

"Good, I thought you might have snuck here to continue working." Seonghwa wrapped an arm around Hongjoong to support him.

"No, I wouldn't dare. Not when I know you're awake." Hongjoong teased.

"I only nag you because you don't take care of yourself." Seonghwa sighed, having repeated that line to his best friend since they were much younger. Hongjoong hummed, letting Seonghwa help him back into his room and into bed.

"Just spend the day resting in bed tomorrow, let the rest of us take over what you have to do." Seonghwa said as Hongjoong adjusted his pillows so he wouldn't be in pain.

"I'm fine, Hwa! I swear." Hongjoong grumbled into his pillow. Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

"Goodnight, Joong." He ignored the sulky captain's whining and turned the lights off before leaving the room.

After the door closed, Hongjoong sat up, leaning over to turn the nightstand lamp on. Then he fished out the jar of balm from his pocket and set it there so he could remember to use it tomorrow.

-

It was weird that the other night, Seonghwa was the one that walked you out. You hadn't seen Hongjoong for practically the entire day but you figured he must be busy working.

Then this week, when you went over, Hongjoong wasn't there at all. But you still did your job, with the other boys coming to bother you, occasionally. You wanted to text him or ask the others where he was but after thinking about it, it sounded too clingy so you decided against asking.

Something felt off, not seeing Hongjoong for two weeks when you saw him every week at his house. But you were not in the position to pry about his wareabouts.

"(y/n)!" Nana came into your shop during lunch time. You broke out of your thoughts and looked at her, blinking in confusion.

"What are you doing tonight?" She asked.

"Nothing. Once I close shop, it's just me and my couch. Plus dinner." You chuckled, gesturing for her to take a seat at your work table. She smiled, satisfied with your answer.

"Your smile is scaring me... Why do you ask my plans for tonight?" You asked with caution.

"There's this thing! Like an event of sorts... I wanna take you and Eve to experience it. Perfect that you're free." She clapped her hands.

"What event or thing is this?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Ah, don't ask so many questions! It's a surprise! You'll see when we get there. Just get dolled up, it's an outdoor event. Think... Outdoor party?" She tilted her head.

"That worries me even more." You squinted your eyes at her. Nana merely smiled innocently at you.

"We'll come by your place to pick you up tonight. Be ready by 9!" She patted your hand and left your shop before you could ask her any further questions. You let out a long sigh, shaking your head with a knowing smile.

'Hey, Hongjoong, haven't seen you at the house. Busy with work? Not playing hooky anymore? ;P - (y/n)'

After sending that message to Hongjoong, you put your phone away and went right back to work, preparing orders and attending to walk in clients.

"No, you don't have to!" You shook your head.

"I insisted, (y/n). Anyway thanks to you, my aloe vera is flourishing! So please just take some." The lady slid the bag of aloe vera back.

"Ah, alright. Thank you so much. This is great for treating sunburns and wounds." You smiled, looking at the aloe vera. After that, you walked her to the door to see her off.

"Fresh aloe." You smiled happily and placed the bag into the fridge so you could use it later.

"That's order number #5019 done." You checked off your list on your phone. Curiously, you opened the chat with Hongjoong.

*read*

He had read the message but didn't reply. He could just be really busy with work but then looking back at the message, you realised that maybe you were acting a little too familiar and friendly with him. Maybe you were not at that level of friendship yet and he still viewed you as nothing more than a gardener working at his house.

"Once again, you have overstepped." You scolded yourself with a sigh, tucking your phone into your pocket to finish up your work for the day so you could close.

"Could I maybe add some greenery around the back?" The customer requested.

"Of course. I'll be right back." You went to your bins to retrieve some stalks of green to add to the bouquet.

"You've got a good eye. It compliments the bouquet and flowers nicely." You smiled as you added the extra stalks to the bouquet you had already bundled together.

"Thank you." The male blushed, watching you wrap everything with colourful tissue and securing it together with a pretty ribbon.

"There you go." You handed it to him and sorted out the payment with him.

"Have a nice evening!" You wished. He smiled and bowed while leaving the shop. Once he stepped out, you closed the door and locked it, turning the sign to 'CLOSED'. Now, it was time to pack up and go home.

'(y/n)! No skipping out tonight! See you~ - Nana'

'Yes, yes. Can't wait to see you! And don't try to hide from us, we know where you live... Okay, that sounded a lot more stalkery/ evil than I expected... - Eve'

You laughed at your friends' messages and slung your bag over your shoulder before making your way home.

"What to wear? What to wear?" You sighed.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Coming!" You went out, knowing it was your friends at the door. They stood there, all dressed up, staring at you who was still wrapped in your robe.

"I don't know what to wear because I don't know where we are going. You guys need to help me." You said.

"Ask Nana, she picked my clothes. I, too, don't know where we are going, remember?" Eve shrugged, sitting at the edge of your bed.

"Alright, let's see what we have." Nana looked through your closet. You chuckled and sat at your vanity to do your make up, watching as Nana sifted through your closet to put together an outfit for you. Eve watched on with amusement, trying her best to help by giving opinions on colour coordination.

"Yes! This works." Nana smiled proudly and you went over to see the outfit.

"I don't think I've ever worn these clothes before." You chuckled, picking up the skirt. Eve shooed you off to the bathroom and you went to change.

They picked an oxblood leather skirt and a black tube top with a racing jacket to wear over.

"You look cute!" They clapped happily.

"Seriously, where are we going?" You laughed as your friends hurried you to wear your shoes so you could leave.

"You'll see when we get there! Stop asking questions." Nana pushed your out of the house. Typical her, she already had a car waiting for the 3 of you, the driver knowing the destination prior.

"I'm starting to question where we're going..." Eve nudged you, trying to freak you out even more.

"And we're here!" Nana squealed. You and Eve looked out the window, unsure of where you were, but got out of the car anyway. It was a deserted area but there people standing around with the revving of car engines being heard.

"Nana, where are we?" You held her arm.

"Street racing." She grinned. You and Eve stared at her with wide eyes, totally not expecting this. There was a lot of people, cheering for the race that was happening.

"This doesn't feel safe..." You looked around. Nana laughed and led the two of you further in.

"There are bike races and car races." She explained as you watched the two bikers race, getting loud cheers from the crowd.

"How did you find out about this place?" Eve asked.

"From a... friend." Nana grinned, cheering on the bikers like she knew them. You were still a little in shock, this was definitely not legal and you weren't really into racing, cars and bikes to begin with.

"And of course, our winner is still undefeated!" The winning biker removed his helmet. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your skull.

"S-Seonghwa?" You whispered to yourself.

"What did you say?" Your friends turned to you but you shook your head, denying having said anything. If Seonghwa was here, that means the others might be here too. If there's a possibility Hongjoong might be here, you felt your stomach sink a little. You couldn't face him now, at least not here.

"I need to use the bathroom. I see the portable toilets there, I'll be right back." You said, patting your friends on the shoulders before going to the bathroom.

"Gosh, even here, I run into them." You mumbled.

"Hey pretty, what's your na- (y/n)?" Mingi's eyes widened when he saw you. You gave an awkward, shy wave.

"W-What are you doing here?" Now Mingi was stumbling over his words, having dropped his cool guy persona, exactly like the person you knew back at the house.

"Here with some friends. I didn't even know I was coming here, have never been to anything like this before." You chuckled.

"Oh, you've never been to a race before?" He tilted his head. You shook your head.

"Mingi ah! What's taking you so lo- (y/n)?!" San stopped in his tracks, blinking at you like he was dreaming.

"Hey, San. Yes, it's me." You chuckled and waved. San smiled, sending you a friendly wave back. He sent Mingi a look and the taller just shrugged in response. In your head, you wondered if you should ask them if Hongjoong was here.

Then you saw him, dressed in a nice suit and talking to Seonghwa. But you were not staring at that. You were staring at the bruises and cuts on his face, and that he walked with a limp.

"Wait." You spoke. San and Mingi turned around to see what you were staring at and immediately blocked your view.

"Guys, is Hongjoong okay?" You looked at them.

"Uh, yeah! He's fine, you know busy with work at home. He's not even here." San waved you off.

"Yeah, you must be seeing things. It's dark." Mingi added with a smile. You gave them an odd look, wondering why they were lying to you about Hongjoong being here. Or maybe you really were hallucinating.

"Guys, Wooyoung's race is gonna start soon. Oh, (y/n)! What are you doing here?" Yeosang smiled.

"Just here with some friends. Speaking of, I should be getting back to them. Bye..." You waved and left to find your friends.

"Hongjoong hyung, Hongjoong hyung. (y/n)'s here! We just ran into her, she saw you and asked about you." Mingi said with panic. Hongjoong stopped talking to Seonghwa and turned to look at his younger brother with wide eyes of shock. San and Yeosang could only nod to confirm the taller male's statement.

"And what did you say to her?" Seonghwa raised an eyebrow.

"We told her she was seeing things and that you were not here." San replied. The two oldest facepalmed and sighed.

"You guys... Why did you... You know what, nevermind. We're in the VIP area anyway, she won't be able to come look for me. It's fine." Hongjoong assured.

"Wait, you're still avoiding her, hyung?" Yeosang asked.

"I just want to wait until I have recovered then everything will go back to normal." Hongjoong said.

"Yeah, wouldn't want her to see hyung with his grandpa cane." Jongho added with a snicker. Hongjoong glared at the youngest, using his cane to hit Jongho.

"Seonghwa made me use it okay." Hongjoong hissed then turned to glare at his best friend.

"It was a cane or crutches, Joong. You know you're supposed to be resting and keeping your weight off your knee." Seonghwa shrugged.

"Anyway, guys. You know while we're here, we have to avoid her. We cannot be seen with her and she cannot be associated with us, it may put her in danger. We're here as Ateez, not AURORA Corp." Hongjoong reminded. The boys nodded obediently.

"Go, Wooyoung!" San cheered loudly as Wooyoung stepped into his car. As they all cheered Wooyoung on, Hongjoong looked out into the crowd and met eyes with you.

"Get ready, racers!" He tore his eyes away from you and focussed on Wooyoung's race instead.

RINGGGGGG

"Shit. I think there are issues at the club." Hongjoong cursed and excused himself, going to the back of where his brothers was sitting to answer the phone.

"Okay, handle it. If you need me to come down and handle it, call me again." He said to the manager and hung up.

"Hongjoong?" Hongjoong cursed and turned to see you there.

"(y/n)... Didn't know that you were here..." He nodded over to you. Seeing his entire condition, your eyes widened. You didn't see him with a cane earlier but now that you did and you saw his injuries a lot closer, it just made you assume that his condition was a lot worser than you initially thought.

"Hongjoong, actually I-"

"You shouldn't talk to me or approach me." Hongjoong said and turned to walk back to where his brothers were sitting, leaving you there alone.

~

Series masterlist

[cherryblossomcowgirl]

Stitches

WC: 1.5k

Trigger warnings: Injury; crash, mentions of death; hospital; FLUFF

.

.

“Okay Lieutenant Commander Seresin, I am Dr. Y/n Y/l/n, let’s take a look at what we have here. Ejection from aircraft?” I flip through the chart, making my way into the small room. Concussion, bruising, lacerations, and some road rash. A feeling of worry spreads over me, an ejection? Not only does it sound dangerous, but it also sounds terrifying. My eyes rise up from the papers, meeting the bright green eyes of my patient. My gorgeous, Ken doll of a patient. He sighs, “How bad is it?” I scan him up and down, “We will need to keep you overnight for observation, but you should be able to go home in the morning. I am going to stitch you up now, your numbing shots should have kicked in.” Sitting beside him, I start to sterilize the wounds. He stares at the needle and I can see the nerves on his face. He gulps, “So, uh, where did you go to med school?” I smile in an attempt to calm him, “University of Texas. How about yourself?” The blonde man winces as I sew the first laceration closed, “Hook ‘em, ma’am.” I smile, “Born in Texas, or a transplant?” “Born and raised. From your accent I am assuming you’re the same?” A laugh escapes my lips as I finish up the second long cut on his arm, “Is it that noticeable?” “Yes ma’am. Now can I ask you something and you won’t get offended?” I raise my eyebrow, “Sure, Lieutenant Commander.” He grits his teeth as I finish up the longest cut on his leg, “How old are you? You look a little young to have graduated from med school.” I knot the stitch, “I am 28. This is my first year of residency. And you? Don’t remember seeing you around campus.” I pat his leg and he smirks, “36, ma’am. I would’ve remembered you.” I blush and start putting away my materials, “Well, uh, sir, I will be checking in during rounds. You can hit the call button if you need anything. Your CT scans should come back soon and I’ll read them for you.” As I walk away I can hear his smile as he says, “Thank you, doc.”

.

.

I knock lightly on the door before opening it, “Hi Lieutenant Commander. Your scans came back clear. We can get you out of here first thing in the morning. How is your pain right now?” He turns to me and smiles, “2/10. And you can call me Jake.” “Well Jake, let me know if you have any other questions.” He clears his throat, “Actually I do. Do doctors wear wedding rings?” I furrow my brow, confused, “Married ones do, why?” A smirk spreads across his face, “So there is no Mr. Dr. Y/l/n?” I laugh, “No, Jake. There is not.” “Well in that case, want to grab dinner once I get out of here?” Heat rises to my cheeks yet again, “Oh, Jake, I can’t..” “So there is a future Mr. Dr. Y/l/n?” I shake my head, “No, it’s just I am only 18 hours into my 72 hour shift.” He thinks for a second, “Well how about in 54 hours, I come back and pick you up? As a thank you.” I fiddle with the chart in my hands, hoping he doesn’t see how red my cheeks are, “Sure, Jake.” His smile spreads as I walk out of the room, “Press the call button if you need anything.”

.

.

When I walk in to sign Jake’s discharge papers, he is already out of his bed and dressed. I sigh, “You took out your IVs?” He laughs, “Yes ma’am.” “That’s my job.” Jake checks his watch, “I will see you in 48 hours, Dr. Y/l/n.” Shaking my head, I giggle, “You can call me Y/n, Jake.” His smirk makes my heart skip a beat, “Have a good shift.” “Thank you.” I walk out of the room, wondering what I am getting myself into. My shift flies by, like usual. I stand in for a couple of surgeries and actually get a few hours of sleep. My eyes keep peeking at my watch. That blonde Texan is taking over my brain. I have never seen such a beautiful man. Blonde hair, green eyes, tan, and oh so muscular. I clock out and change into my outfit. I curse myself for not picking something cuter. Just a pair of jeans and a fitted t-shirt. Heading to the front of the hospital, I realize I don’t have his number to tell him where to pick me up. As I exit through the sliding doors, Jake is sitting on a bench and he’s holding flowers. He sees me and jumps up, “Hey there, doc.” I smile as he hands me the flowers, “A true southern gentleman.” “I didn’t know what your favorite kind was.. and sunflowers remind me of back home.. so I thought I’d grab them.” “You’re sweet. There’s actually a sunflower field on our ranch.” He runs his hand through his hair, “I’m assuming your car is here, but would you like me to drive? I’ve never picked up a girl from a hospital before so I’m not really sure what the protocol is.” I giggle, “I’ll ride with you, thanks.” He leads me to a lifted pickup truck and laughs when he sees my face, “You can take a boy out of Texas, but you can’t take his truck.” Jake opens my door and gives me a hand up. His hand is so large and steady. He starts the engine and starts driving. Country music is playing on the radio. I feel like I am back home, nervous and trying to impress my high school crush. Jake’s hand reaches over and settles on my thigh, “Thank you for stitching me up. They’re healing real nice.” I try to focus on anything other than his hand on me, “You’re welcome. You got pretty banged up.” He pulls into the parking lot of a restaurant and turns to me, “Yeah, dangers of the job. But I hope you like seafood, this spot has the best view in all of North Island.” “Sounds perfect.”

.

.

He opens the door and I follow him in, noticing how broad his shoulders are. Our table is outside, overlooking the ocean. We sit down and I gaze off at the waves, “This is beautiful, Jake.” He smirks and hands me a menu, “Do you like wine?” “I actually don’t drink.” He raises an eyebrow, “Can I ask why?” I laugh, “No deep or interesting tale, I’m just kind of a health freak.” He leans in, intrigued, “Okay give me the rundown.” “No food dyes, no high fructose corn syrup or artificial sweeteners, no seed oils, and I try to avoid very processed foods.” His jaw has dropped, “Okay, that’s amazing. You will be mortified to see how I eat.. a lot of freezer meals.” “Oh Jake.. we have to get you meal prepping.” He shrugs, “You’ll just have to teach me.” “Deal.” The waitress takes our orders and conversation flows so easily. Jake is smart, funny, and very thoughtful when he speaks. The food comes and it is amazing. Jake clears his throat, “I feel like I’ve bombarded you with questions, so it’s your turn.” I think, “Last serious relationship?” I regret asking it immediately. How forward can I be? He smiles, “I’ll be honest with you, it’s been years. My career doesn’t usually mix well with long term relationships. How about you?” I chew on my bottom lip, “I dated a little bit in college, but never anything serious. My whole life I have just been focused on becoming a doctor.” He nods, “I like you. You’re very straightforward.” “Yeah, uh, sorry. Like I said, it’s been a while.” “How was your shift?” I smile, “I got to assist in an aortic repair surgery and a defibrillator placement! The lead surgeon let me remove the damaged valve. I literally had a piece of someone’s heart in my hand.” “So you’re a surgeon?” “Well, first year surgery resident. Usually 75% make it through all 3 years.” His eyes meet mine with a look of genuine admiration, “You’ll make it.” A blush creeps across my face and I look down, “Thank you.” He pays for dinner and stands up, “Can I show you one more thing?” My stomach flutters and I nod, following him back to his truck.

.

.

He drives down the coast, finally pulling in to a quiet park of the beach. He opens my door and grabs my hand, “Watch your step, okay?” He leads us right past the dunes, sitting in the sand. I sit beside him, the crashing waves sending a calm feeling over me. I turn and meet his green eyes, “Were you scared when you had to eject?” He takes a deep breath, “Yes ma’am. That was the second time in my whole career. The lever jammed for a second. Didn’t think I’d make it.” Instinctively, my hand rests on his shoulder, “I’m sorry, Jake.” My thumb traces circles and I can see him relax, “You must be exhausted, I should take you back.” I breathe in the ocean air, “Just one more minute?” He throws his arm around me and pulls me in to lean on his shoulder, “As many more as you’d like.”

[gotta-winwin]

(🎞️) ... hit the road docu.<> if i walked at my own pace

masterlist | cyana's masterlist

word count: 1.8k tw: anxiety, mentions of bullying, panic attacks, sleeping pills italics are interviews cut between scenes + english a/n: we're finally starting to dive into cyana's backstory + the mystery of what happened in LA! if any of the above trigger warnings trigger you - scroll away, stay safe, and come back for the next one 💓

Cyana never really understood how some of the members could stand to watch their own fancams. Sure, she understood that it was a vital part of analyzing their performance, but every time she tried searching up her own fancams, she was greeted with a wave of self-embarrassment and cringe. 

“It won’t be like that forever,” Vernon tried comforting her, pausing his own fancam on his phone to look up at her. “You’ll end up getting used to watching yourself on camera.” 

Cyana shuddered. “I can’t imagine I’d ever get used to that.” Reaching over, she pressed play on his phone. “Other people’s fancams, however, that I like to watch.”

Vernon laughed, his ears turning pink as he adjusted his phone, letting Cyana watch over his shoulder. 

“Woww,” She marveled at the end, quietly applauding the performance. “So cool.”

Vernon smiled, swiping out of the video. “Not bad, huh.”

“Psh.” She smacked his shoulder lightly. “Not bad my ass. Give yourself some more credit, Hansol.” 

His lips quivered into a small smile, amused by how Cyana seamlessly switched to calling him by his Korean name when speaking English. Ironic, but for some reason it fit. 

“Anything in particular you’re looking for?” 

Vernon opened the door to the record store, motioning Cyana to head in first. He had promised the girl he’d accompany her to get a couple records, knowing how much she had been looking forward to browsing the New York streets. He was just as excited, shopping for anything music related was probably the only shopping he found himself enjoying. 

“The National.” Cyana said, already flipping through the boxes of records. “The 1975, The Cure, really anything I can get my hands on.” She pulled one out, gasping as she presented it to Vernon. “No way! Look at this.” 

Taking the record from her hands, he turned it over to read out the artist. “The Beatles?” He looked at her, a little confused. “I didn’t think you’d be a big Beatles fan.”

Cyana looked a little offended at his words. “I am. Huge fan. I’m getting that one.” 

Vernon held the record out of her reach, tucking it underneath his arm as he moved to another aisle. “I’ll get it for you, don’t worry about it.”

“Really?”

Vernon hummed, sifting through the boxes, looking for his own purchase. 

“Wow. Look at you,” Cyana tucked into his side, a hand around his lower arm as she browsed the options with him. “So dependable.” 

“How are you feeling?” The doctor prodded at Vernon’s neck and throat. “Any soreness?”

He shook his head, thankful that he wasn’t feeling at all ill, unlike the others. “I’m doing fine, doc.”

He watched as the doctor moved on to Woozi, repeating the same procedure with him and asking the same questions. Pulling out his phone, Vernon scrolled in a daze, allowing his mind to shut off for a little bit before their concert. He liked letting his mind blank out for a moment, like it was rebooting all his thoughts, worries and signals. 

It was Cyana’s quiet voice that pulled him out, most likely because the girl was speaking English.

“Do you think I can get some meds for sleeping?” 

Vernon looked up from his phone, eyebrows furrowed as he watched Cyana interact with the doctor, who was packing up his kit, ready to go. 

“Have you been having trouble sleeping?” The doctor asked her, pausing to give her a proper lookover. 

“A bit.” Cyana mumbled, glancing around, as if to check that no one was listening. Her eyes drifted over Vernon before returning to the floor next to her feet. “Or just in case.” 

Nodding, the doctor pulled out a bottle, shaking it slightly before handing it to her. “Most people in your line of work ask for the same thing, so I always keep it on hand. Take two before bed, three, if it’s not enough. But no more, alright?” 

Vernon watched Cyana slip the pill bottle into her hoodie pocket, thanking the doctor before retreating back into her chair. He frowned before shrugging, returning back to his phone and putting his brain back on airplane mode. It was whatever, right? 

“I could remember our LA show extremely clearly because I remember how Cyana’s face looked minutes before it.” Vernon told the camera, moistening his lips before continuing. “She looked like going on stage would destroy her completely.” 

Even under the dim lights beneath the stage, Vernon could tell there was something different about the way Cyana looked as they waited for the platform to rise with them on top of it. Usually she’d be smiling his way with a bright, dazzling grin, all pumped up for their performance and buzzing with energy. Now however, as Vernon stared at her, she seemed distant - almost muted - as if something had drained all the color from her cheeks. 

He reached over and gently shook her shoulder. “You good?” He mouthed, searching her eyes for an answer.

She shrugged his hand off her shoulder and mouthed back an okay, before turning away and readjusting her mic.

He didn’t believe her one bit.

“I mean,” He tried explaining himself to the camera. “I could relate to her, I guess. I keep things to myself a lot too. If I'm struggling, I won’t hide it, but it’s not like I’ll talk about it either.” He let out a small sigh. “I guess that’s why I didn’t say anything for a long time. I thought maybe silence was just normal for her like it was for me.”

Looking back now, on that concert day in LA, Vernon could remember seeing her hunched over, backstage, after a particularly intense run of Getting Closer. He remembered chalking up her sweat and body chills to mere overexhaustion, simply handing her a bottle of water before going back up for his turn with the Hiphop Unit. 

He also remembered hearing her quiet sobs and harsh breaths from across the room, as they all waited for the Performance Unit to finish with their set. Cyana was mostly covered by a worrying Joshua, fussing over her and whispering something Vernon was too far away to hear. 

He remembered how worried everybody was that day. How DK and Hoshi were unnaturally quiet on the way back to the hotel, their eyes sending fleeting glances over to Cyana, unsure what they could do to help. How Jeonghan and Joshua could only sit and hold her hand, Joshua’s eyes sending signals to Jeonghan that Vernon couldn’t understand. But most of all, he remembered how Dino came to sleep in his room that night, tears tracking down his face as he sobbed over Cyana asking to room alone. The boy couldn’t understand why she had kicked him out - and why they were all useless to stop it. 

“I was already worried about Coups hyung.” Vernon recalled. “We look out of sync when we’re missing someone, and I didn’t want Cyana to need to leave as well.” 

Vernon had no idea what was going on, as he tried meeting Joshua’s eyes to ask him what the hell was up with their youngest member. The older boy infuriatingly refused to meet his eyes, only leaving Cyana’s room to grab food or water for the girl. 

“Just wait.” He told Vernon when Vernon finally got a hold of him, just about to leave the washroom after brushing his teeth. “She’ll explain when she feels better.”

“Why can’t you just tell us now, though?” Vernon asked. “Everyone is going insane. Both DK and Dino went to bed crying last night and Mingyu looks like a kicked puppy waiting outside her door. Seungkwan even told me Wonwoo’s affected, something about how his face is stuck permanently in a worried expression. I’m going insane too, hyung.” He admitted the last part rather timidly.

Joshua looked torn. “I can’t.” He finally said after a painful pause. Moving behind Vernon, Joshua left, leaving him standing in front of the bathroom, looking incredibly stupid and pathetic. 

“I just wanted answers.” Vernon mumbled, not looking at the interviewer or the camera as he spoke. “And it felt like no one really had them. All of us had recounted that day, trying to piece together what could have affected Cyana so terribly - but none of us could think of anything at all.”

Cyana made sure to walk right next to Woozi as they exited the venue in between the barricades holding their fans back. It was rather strategic of her, she knew. Walking next to Woozi would ensure a constant presence - he wasn’t one to run up to the barricades and interact with fans, wasn’t one to draw attention to himself and therefore those around him. Cyana chose to be next to him for send-off for one reason: to not be seen. 

She couldn’t justify the fear to herself - let alone other people - so she kept the fear she knew was irrational and childish hidden. How was she to explain she was afraid of the crowd? Of their beloved fans?

Oh hey, Joshua. Yeah, I can’t do today’s concert because I’m afraid I’ll go up onstage and someone from the crowd will jump me. Or shoot me. Or throw a knife at me. Or throw acid up onstage. Or- anyways, yeah. So I can’t perform today. I feel like I might pass out onstage. Why? Oh- I kinda have people who want to kill me in LA. Yeah- from highschool. Bullies. I know, a long time ago. So it’s irrational. Right? And it’s not like they said they’d kill me. So it should be fine, right?

A swirl of thoughts wrapped around her as she continued to walk, putting one foot in front of the other, trying to block out the loud cheers and screams from the crowd. She had gone through the concert. Now all she needed to do was walk through the sea of fans, enter the company car and go home. 

You have to at least wait till you’re back in the hotel room before you break down. She chided herself. You must.

A scream, not much louder than the rest of the fans, caught her ear. She whipped her head around at the sound of her voice - yelled out through a sea of fans. She knew that voice. Her blood grew cold as her ears rang - muffling the world around her - and Cyana felt as if she was sixteen once again.

Her eyes drifted from face to face in the direction of the scream until it landed on a girl in the front row, holding a bright pink banner with Vernon’s name on it. 

“Cyana!” The girl yelled out again, her eyes twinkling in a way that made Cyana’s skin feel ice cold. 

And she watched, horrified, as the familiar girl mouthed an all too familiar five words at her. I’m going to get you. 

[catboymoments]

Hi everyone I’m so sorry to bring this up because as we all know tumblr discourse is EXHAUSTING but the blog @ romans12-19 that has been obsessively documenting my friend Juicebox and spreading misinformation + encouraging harassment towards them (based on a “”callout”” started by their groomer) has not let up and is continuing to spread a hate campaign. I’ve spoken about this before because the people who have been harassing juice for some reason value tumblr clout over human lives. (they’ve sent the goddamn fbi to their house for working on a doc to take down a local predator knowing that Juicebox is a black disabled victim of police brutality.) juice is my friend and I care about him so much and I want this to stop and for these absolute ghouls to leave him alone and get a life.

… And because I am simply a person who cares about juice and is their friend (that they cannot believe because they want a villain so bad) they’re trying to drag me into it to. By (checks notes) bringing up a “callout post” made by a grown woman who harassed me on Twitter when I was SEVENTEEN Years Old for disliking proshippers in the jojo fandom full of either non issues or things that I’ve since acknowledged were tasteless of me to say. So. THATS HAPPENING.

so please I ask of you can we report this blog for harassment and hopefully get it taken down because this is ridiculous. Holy shit

[frozenmxngo]

✧*̥˚ In Between the Lines | Choi Beomgyu *̥˚✧ pt. 3

✧ beomgyu x selective mutism fem!reader

✧ part three, word count 11.6k ✧ summary: y/n, a university student with selective mutism, finding solace in solitude. when beomgyu, a curious music student, starts noticing her, their paths cross, and he learns to navigate her silence. ✧ warnings: social anxiety, sooo much fluff!! ✧ an: when i tell you i crashed out about 30 times trying to upload this.... tumblr kept giving me that error when you paste too much text. so every time i would paste from docs tumblr was like ):< and honestly this would've been out sooner but apparently i don't have patience. so ig i learned how to have patience this past week. i'm nervously posting this bc im worried i may have pasted something twice but i am so tired of rereading this- i will double check tomorrow i just want to post this so bad

MASTERLIST « previous - next »

The house was quiet. Blissfully, wonderfully quiet. Y/N was home alone for the night—her dad and stepmom were out, likely at some event or gathering. It was Friday, and for once, she didn’t have to worry about the noise or tension that seemed to fill the space when they were around.

Y/N sat at her desk, curled comfortably in her chair, her legs pulled up beneath her. The small TV in the corner of her room, just to the right of her desk, cast a warm glow as her favorite drama played. It was a scene she had been waiting for—the moment the lead characters finally realized their feelings for each other. The soft instrumental built up, and Y/N held her breath, her pencil pausing mid-shade as the male lead reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind the heroine’s ear.

She exhaled, fully immersed in the drama.

The world outside her little room didn’t exist—not even the stress of the day could bother her. Just this moment, just the quiet hum of the television, the soft scratch of her pencil against paper, and the warmth in her chest as the characters on screen shared a long-awaited confession.

Her desk was a small but cozy space, the surface covered with neatly arranged art supplies and small trinkets that made her feel at home. Her latest piece sat in front of her—a carefully drawn night sky over a peaceful cityscape. Deep purples and blues blended under her careful hand, the colors rich and dreamy. She wasn’t doodling this time. This one mattered. It was the kind of drawing she’d take her time with, layering colors until it felt just right.

The scent of kimchi ramen filled the room, steam curling up from the bowl resting on a coaster beside her. Every so often, she paused to take a slow slurp, savoring the spice, the warmth spreading through her chest. Next to it, a bottled green tea sat unopened, condensation gathering against the plastic. A packaged strawberry cream bread rested nearby, waiting for when she was ready for something sweet.

On-screen, the tension between the leads melted into something softer. The heroine hesitated, her voice trembling as she admitted her feelings, and Y/N found herself gripping her pencil tighter.

"Do you think... I could ever be enough for you?" The female lead’s voice trembled as she spoke. She was beautiful, too beautiful to be the underdog, but just like any other typical drama she was cast as the loser. 

Y/N’s breath hitched in her chest, her fingers momentarily pausing in their motion across the sketch of a cozy night sky. This was the moment she’d been waiting for. The male lead stepped closer, his gaze softening as he stared into her eyes, a quiet intensity between them.

"You’re more than enough," he whispered, his voice low and steady, his hand reaching out slowly toward hers.

Y/N leaned in, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the heat of the confession radiating through the screen, her breath caught in her throat. The music swelled, a soft piano playing in the background, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Her pencil paused once more mid-air as her attention was fully captivated by the scene.

"Say it," Y/N whispered under her breath, leaning in slightly, almost as if she were the one waiting for the words.

The male lead’s lips parted, pausing for a moment to consider his words. "You’re everything to me," he finally said, his voice thick with emotion, pulling her in even closer to his body.

Y/N's heart soared, and without thinking, she stretched her legs out from underneath her, sitting up straighter, getting closer to the screen as though that might make the moment real. Her feet kicked out excitedly under the desk, her heart fluttering at the confession.

Just as the heroine closed her eyes and the male lead leaned in to kiss her, the door slammed open with a loud, dramatic noise, followed by a voice shouting, "Well isn’t this just picture perfect!”

The moment shattered instantly. Y/N’s feet kicked out again in frustration, a quiet groan escaping her lips as she slouched back in her chair. She stared at the screen, her heart sinking with the interrupted kiss. "Nooo," she whined softly, and pouted at the TV as the scene cut away.

With a huff, Y/N slouched in her chair even more, feeling the pull of the unfinished moment. As if on cue, her phone buzzed on the desk, snapping her out of her dramatic reverie.

It was a message from Beomgyu.

Y/N and Beomgyu spent yet another evening together at the library earlier, chatting and writing about random thoughts. They learned more about each other, really listening to the little details. They discussed what his favorite video games were, Y/N’s dream vacation, and even why Beomgyu had such a deep hatred for mint chocolate chip ice cream. Beomgyu: I just realized I have a test monday. Do you think I should start studying or accept my fate? Helppp

Y/N smiled softly, the weight of the interrupted drama moment lightening as she typed back.

Y/N: Depends. How bad is it? Y/N: Also?? A test on a monday?? gross.

She didn’t have to wait long for his reply.

Beomgyu: Bad enough that I should’ve started a week ago. But also? Not bad enough that I will. I'm cooked either way

Y/N giggled quietly, a soft chuckle that felt good to release.

Y/N: Sounds like fate it is~

She set her phone down with a satisfied smile, but just as she was about to settle back into the quiet of her room, another message appeared.

Beomgyu: Btw, you made it home safe, right?

Y/N blinked, a warm feeling crept up her spine.

And then another text appeared.

Beomgyu: I hope??

Her fingers hovered over the keys again, her heart swelling with a strange happiness she hadn’t expected. She took a breath, her smile softening before she typed back.

Y/N: Yeah, just relaxing.

A few seconds later, another message from Beomgyu popped up.

Beomgyu: Good. Sleep well, okay?

Y/N stared at the screen, her heart fluttering as she reread his words. There was something so simple, yet so sincere about them. A small smile tugged at her lips as she typed back.

Y/N: You too! (:

With a sigh, she set the phone aside, leaning back in her chair. The peace of the room settled around her again, and she let the soft voices from the TV wash over her. Her mind lingered on the warmth of Beomgyu's messages, even though the drama was still playing, she wasn’t paying as much attention to it anymore. The soft feeling of being thought of—that was the thing that lingered, making everything feel a little bit more right. Y/N carefully put the last few strokes on the night sky, adding a shimmer of stars to the deep blue and purple hues. The room felt completely silent now, the only sound the soft scratch of her pencil against the paper as she focused. The drama had finished, and she was all caught up for now, having turned off the TV afterward. It was just her and her drawing now, and the peace of the moment. The emotional tension of the show had faded, replaced by the quiet calm of her room and the soothing rhythm of her hand moving across the page. She glanced up at the clock. It was getting late, but for now, there was no rush. No one was home. No one to hurry her along or pressure her into anything. Y/N set the pencil down and stretched her arms, letting out a content sigh. The house was silent, except for the occasional creak and pop of the old house settling. 

With another stretch, she stood up and grabbed her empty ramen bowl, its warmth still lingering against her fingertips. Her strawberry cream bread sat untouched on the desk, wrapped tightly in its package. The faint, sweet scent of it lingered in the air, just enough to tempt her, but she wasn’t quite in the mood for it anymore. She carried the bowl to the kitchen, the silence wrapping around her like a warm blanket. She paused for a moment in the kitchen, savoring the quiet that filled the space. No shouting. No nagging. No sharp words cutting through the air like they did so often.

The emptiness of the house, rather than feeling lonely, felt comforting. It was her time to be free, to breathe without fear of being judged or corrected for the smallest things. She didn’t have to shrink down, didn’t have to hide herself.

After rinsing her bowl and placing it in the drying rack, she walked back to her room, the stillness following her like an old friend. She returned upstairs with a fresh towel, wiping down her desk and tidying up her space. The simple ritual of cleaning brought her a sense of peace, and comfort, a comforting routine before she prepared for bed. Not to mention, she’d spilled some ramen broth earlier, leaving behind a small mess.

As she brushed her teeth, a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She could still feel the warmth of Beomgyu’s presence earlier that evening, and despite the time she spent alone now, his memory lingered in her thoughts. 

She rinsed her face, glancing at her reflection in the mirror, and for a moment, she couldn’t help but let out a small sigh. Why am I thinking about him so much?

The thought made her pause. Her stomach did a little flip, and she felt that warmth again, the fluttering feeling that had started creeping in over the past few weeks. Beomgyu had a way of making her feel like she was more than just the quiet girl sitting at the back of the class.

She quickly finished her bedtime routine and changed into comfortable clothes. She pulled the blanket up to her chin, the soft fabric settling around her as she slid under the covers. Her thoughts were still on Beomgyu. I guess I’ve never really had a guy who’s treated me like this before, she thought to herself. It’s... nice.

But it was more than that. As much as she tried to brush it off, she knew there was a growing attraction. She found herself replaying little moments from earlier in the night: his smile, the way his eyes softened when they looked at her, how natural and comfortable it all felt.

It was also the fact that she thought about Beomgyu even on days she didn’t see him, he always crept back into her mind, thinking about him came easily. Not just because he was handsome and sweet… and goofy… beautiful even, but because he truly cared about her. He wanted to get to know her for her, he didn’t care that she didn’t speak. 

It was obvious that Y/N had a crush on him. It was funny how easy it felt to admit it to herself now, after all the time she’d spent avoiding those types of feelings. She hated liking someone, it was complicated and she hated complicated feelings, especially when she couldn’t properly express it. It was just easier to not have feelings for someone, that way she couldn’t get hurt. She was afraid of feeling this way, she knew it could tear her apart on the inside. And yet, here she was.

It’s okay, she reminded herself. It’s just a crush. A small one.

Just as Y/N’s eyes fluttered close, she heard the soft vibration of her phone on the wooden side table next to her bed. She didn’t budge at first trying to have some self-control but it only lasted five seconds until her eyes snapped open. Y/N reached her hand out to grab her phone off the table, it was another text from Beomgyu. She couldn’t help it, a soft smile quickly appeared on her face. Beomgyu: Okayyy soo, I know you’re most likely sleeping by now but I was wondering if maybe you wanted to hang out tomorrow?

Her heart fluttered as she read over the text twice. Beomgyu: I mean if you’re not busy already? Since it snowed all week I figured maybe we could go ice skating, I’m sure it won’t be too busy considering the season just started?

Before Y/N could even think about what she was agreeing to she sent a quick reply.

Y/N: Sure (: sounds like fun!

Beomgyu: Sorry, did I wake you? ):

Y/N: No it’s okay!!

Beomgyu: Okay cool. Oh, unlike last weekend, I won’t force Taehyun to be involved. Just us (:

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly as she reread the message. No Taehyun this time? She thought about it for a few moments. It would just be her and Beomgyu, which she was okay with they spent time together often now, just the two of them but never outside of the library.

This was different, this would be outside her comfort zone, out in public with Beomgyu. On top of it, she didn’t know how to ice skate.

Y/N groaned loudly as she realized what she agreed to, an entire evening of making herself look like a fool in front of Beomgyu. How embarrassing, she thought, squeezing her eyes closed for a couple of seconds.

“Stupid,” Y/N told herself softly as she looked back at the text messages.

Y/N: Oh! Cool!

She sent the message before even thinking about it, she cringed overthinking it now, it was too short it felt like she was uninterested. Y/N quickly double-texted.

Y/N: I’m excited, it will be nice hanging out… not in the library like usual (:

Beomgyu: I know, we need to hang out outside of school haha

Beomgyu: How about I pick you up from your place? That way we can just go together

The first thought that ran through her mind was her family, she didn’t want Beomgyu to meet them, not yet at least. Especially, her stepmother, she wanted that woman to stay far away from Beomgyu. Y/N had a feeling that her stepmother would do everything she could to embarrass Y/N and make Beomgyu run off.

Y/N couldn’t let that happen, her stomach turned just at the thought, she didn’t want to lose him. The two had begun to grow close together. She figured she’d just watch out the window for Beomgyu like a hawk. Once he pulled up she would just make a run for it, giving him no time to get out of the car.

Y/N nodded to herself as she thought out her escape route.

Y/N: Yeah we can do that

She then sent another message, one that had her address in it.

Beomgyu: Perfect (: I’ll see you around 6:30?

Y/N: That works for me!!

Beomgyu: Okok please go to sleep, you’ll need the rest! Sweet dreams!

Y/N: Sweet dreams~

After Y/N sent that final message she went back to her other messages to Jiwon’s contact. With a few quick swipes, she began typing a message to her best friend.

Y/N: Jiwon. Please tell me you’re not busy tomorrow. I need to facetime you. I need help picking out an outfit ))):

With a deep sigh, Y/N locked her phone and placed it back on the table, she knew Jiwon was sleeping and wouldn’t reply until the morning.

Y/N wanted to sleep but now she was giddy and anxious about tomorrow. She had too many thoughts running through her mind. What was she going to wear? How should she do her hair? Should she wear makeup? This wasn’t a date, was it?

“Oh god…” Y/N rolled onto her side facing the wall, her hand gripping the edge of the blanket and pulling it over her shoulder, she kept a tight grip on it afterward.

Eventually, the thoughts swirling in her mind were enough to lull her to sleep, the nerves didn’t quite calm down though. As Y/N slept, she tossed and turned all night, even her anxiety crept into her dreams. They were filled with every possible thing going wrong the next day.

With a loud huff, Y/N turned to face her phone that sat leaning against a pile of books. She was trying outfits on for Jiwon, she wanted to look good for when she went to hangout with Beomgyu. “I…” Y/N glanced at her reflection in the phone. “Jiwon, I’m not wearing this.” She shook her head, thinking the choice of clothing items were insane. “What–�� Jiwon dragged out in a whine. “Why not? It looks adorable on you,” Y/N wore thick tights, a flowy skirt that rested at her mid-thigh, a long-sleeve shirt, and leg warmers. She glanced at her outfit with uncertainty. “Okay, and I’m going ice skating? Which I have never done before… Shouldn’t I be wearing pants or something? I feel like I need more coverage on my legs.” “Beomgyu won’t let you fall,” Jiwon said quickly. “Come on, this is your first date with him-” Before Jiwon could continue talking Y/N stared at her with a hard glare. “Not a date.” “Sure, whatever,” Jiwon rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine, if you’re really such a scaredy cat about getting hurt then wear those cute pants you wore to my birthday party a few months ago…” She took a second to think about the top option. “That… one cute top you have.. And that super cute jacket you wore the other day.” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at how many times Jiwon had said cute. Y/N walked out of frame to find those items, she dug around in her dresser with shaky hands. She was so nervous for tonight, she wanted to make a good impression on Beomgyu. Eventually, she ended up finding the clothing items Jiwon was talking about then swiftly changed into them, minus the jacket. “This?” Y/N walked back into the frame, she stood there awkwardly, her fingers playing with the bottom hem of the shirt. “Not as cute as the last outfit but this will do, you still look perfect.” Jiwon nodded in approval. Y/N let out a soft huff of air, finally feeling slightly better that she finally had an outfit to wear. The knots in her stomach continued to tighten as the clock ticked closer and closer to the time Beomgyu said he would be picking her up. “Honestly.” Jiwon started, Y/N’s eyes wandered back to the screen to watch her friend take a sip of water before she spoke again. “You look hot, the pants really show off your body, in a good way.” Y/N’s cheeks flushed immediately, not being able to handle the compliment. “Stop…” Y/N whispered, her arms crossing to cover her waist. “What? It’s giving body,” Jiwon told her, “Come on give me a little pose,” Jiwon loved hyping Y/N up, she loved seeing the light in her eyes and how flustered she got, it made her feel like she was doing a good job at being a best friend. Y/N awkwardly placed a hand on her hip and then stuck her left leg out at an angle. “Okay, so, uhm… awesome. Next time I see you we’re gonna practice posing for photos because what the hell are you doing.” Jiwon shook her head with a soft laugh. Y/N covered her mouth as she began to quietly giggle at Jiwon’s words. She knew she looked silly, she always felt weird posing, it felt so unnatural to her. “So, if he asks to take a photo of you tonight, don’t do that. That smile was so forced,” Jiwon continued to laugh at her friend, not in a mean way. Jiwon would never purposely say something to upset Y/N, she knew her boundaries and this was just light teasing for the two. “Okay okay,” Y/N smiled at the phone, her lips curved naturally this time as she was enjoying Jiwon’s teasing. “That! That was perfect Y/N, remember to smile like that,” Jiwon clapped her hands together as she watched Y/N. “Jiwon, I doubt any pictures are going to be taken anyway… wouldn’t that be weird?” Y/N asked Jiwon in an unsure tone. “Why would that be weird? You’re on a cute date– I mean adventure… Don’t you want to remember it? Post it to Instagram?” Jiwon was so happy for Y/N, this is all she wanted for her best friend. 

Sometimes it felt like Y/N would never go on a date with someone, considering how shy and anxious she got around people. Y/N never really put herself out there. Jiwon had dreamed of the day where they would talk about boys and get ready for dates while on facetime. “I mean… I guess?” Y/N said unsure of her own response, was that normal? Did people take photos like that all the time? Y/N bit her lip as she thought about it more. New thoughts of insecurity sinking in. She didn’t want to look bad in the photos, she knew how awkward she could be, it was beginning to eat away at her. “Y/N,” Jiwon spoke, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts. “Yeah?” She glanced at her phone. “You zoned out… I was wondering when Beomgyu was going to be there to pick you up?” Jiwon scooted closer to the camera her face right in front of it now. Y/N glanced at the time, “Oh crap, like in a few minutes.” Her heartbeat spiked as she began looking around her room to make sure she had everything she wanted to bring. “Okay don’t forget your scarf, gloves, wallet.” Jiwon began listing off things to help Y/N calm down, she could see how nervous Y/N was just by her jerky movements and shaky hands. Just as Y/N was pulling her jacket on a message popped up across the screen. Beomgyu: I’m here (:

“Oh god…” She repeated a few times. “He’s here,” Y/N's voice was a bit more high pitch now, due to the butterflies swirling about in her stomach. “Jiwon, he’s here. I love you, bye,” Y/N ended the call not even meaning to say farewell like that, she couldn’t think straight. “Oh gosh,” She said softly, grabbing her small bag that contained her wallet and lip balm. She grabbed her phone shoving it in her jacket’s pocket before sprinting down the stairs, forgetting her scarf and gloves on her messy bed. Her room was a disaster at this point, with clothes strewn everywhere from the outfits she’d tried on, and her makeup was scattered across the desk. She promised herself she’d clean it up when she got home later that night. Her eyes immediately fell on her father’s figure who stood at the window in the living room peering out at the street. Y/N ran over to the front door, slipping her shoes on. Her stepmother was in the kitchen washing the dishes. This was perfect, this meant her stepmother would have no idea about Beomgyu being outside. Y/N gave her father a quick wave and a weary smile. “Who–” Before her father could even finish asking his question Y/N was out the door. Her cheeks burned as she saw Beomgyu was already halfway up the steps, she stopped mid step as she looked into his warm eyes. “Hey,” He chuckled softly, a small friendly smile sat on his lips. Y/N took a deep breath before showing him an awkward soft smile, she slowly brought her hand up as if to say hey back. “I figured you didn’t see my text so I was going to knock,” He explained before stepping backward off the steps, with ease. Y/N nodded her head before following behind him, they walked in step to his car, and Beomgyu opened the passenger for her. She nodded her head to him to say thank you before she slid into the warm seat. Beomgyu rounded his car to get into the driver's seat. “Are you cold?” He asked glancing over at Y/N as he typed in the directions to the outdoor ice rink. Y/N shook her head, she was somewhat sweating due to her father almost answering the door. Her eyes fell to her shaky hands, she made the mindful effort to grab onto her sleeves to try and relax herself. Beomgyu turned on some music before he shifted the car into drive. The music was soft, but not drowned out by the engine of the car. He could tell that Y/N was nervous, so he wanted to try and comfort her as best as he could. He waited a few minutes before speaking so she could collect herself. He glanced at Y/N who was looking out the window of the car door. He took in her appearance, she looked beautiful as always, but he noticed a very subtle difference, she was wearing very light makeup. He couldn’t hide his smile, he liked seeing her like this, it was different.

“Have you ever been ice skating before?” Beomgyu asked, his eyes shifting from the road to Y/N. Y/N shook her head and pressed her lips together, feeling awkward, maybe she should’ve told him last night that she didn’t know how to skate. She didn’t want him to feel upset that he had to babysit her the whole time. “What?” He let out a breathy laugh, “There’s no way.” He turned his attention back to the road. Y/N gripped the sleeve of her jacket even tighter, trying to press the nerves away. “Don’t worry, I’ve been skating since I was like… ten… maybe?”  He wasn’t sure if he was a year or two off. Y/N raised her eyebrows slightly at his response, that was a long time. “I used to go skating with some of my old friends all the time, you’ll pick it up fast.” Beomgyu would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited about Y/N not knowing how to skate. It was a great excuse to stay close to her, hold her hand, and keep her from falling. This night was going perfectly for him so far. The rest of the ride was filled with Beomgyu telling Y/N stories, he figured he’d do what he’s best at and yap her ear off. He made sure to glance at her every so often to make sure he wasn’t boring her to death. To his surprise she was listening quite closely, her facial expressions were very responsive to what he was saying.

Once, Beomgyu shifted the car into park he glanced at Y/N with a huge smile. “Ready?” Y/N nodded shyly before grabbing her bag off the floor of the car. “Oh, don’t worry, you can leave your bag here. Tonight’s on me, plus I would feel better leaving your bag in here… I don’t trust those lockers sometimes.” Beomgyu said. Y/N was surprised by him, she quickly pulled her phone out and typed. Are you sure?? I don’t mind paying!

Beomgyu’s eyes fell onto her phone screen, the soft blue light hitting his face. “Please, don’t worry, I want to.” Y/N’s heart picked up once again. Her fingers hit the keyboard quickly. Thank you (: Beomgyu smiled softly at the message before he got out of the car, Y/N following his lead. She stayed in step with him but stayed slightly behind him as if he was like some safety shield for her anxiety. As they walked towards the counter Y/N realized she was going to have to let the worker know her shoe size. Y/N pulled her phone out once again and typed her shoe-sized down to show the worker, they were behind a few people so there was still a ton of time, but the nerves gnawed at her. She had to be prepared just in case. Beomgyu noticed her note prepared and smiled softly, he looked ahead and kept quiet. After a few moments, it was their turn. They both signed a waiver then Beomgyu spoke saying both sizes they needed, that way Y/N didn’t even need to show the woman at the counter her phone. Y/N glanced up at him feeling a bit surprised, it warmed her heart that he did that without even saying anything to her. She grabbed the pair of skates that the woman handed over to her, once Beomgyu received his they made their way over to a bench. Beomgyu was quick to switch over into skates, he opened the rental locker and threw his shoes in. He turned back towards Y/N who was still trying to tie her skates. “Here,” He spoke softly, he knelt down slightly and tied the skates for her, making sure they were tight enough.

Y/N’s eyes glanced around the area, looking at the people around them, wondering what they were thinking of her and Beomgyu. Did they think she looked stupid? Before she could let her negative thoughts spiral into something bigger, she shook her head and looked down at Beomgyu as he finished tying the skates. Beomgyu grabbed her shoes and threw them into the locker with his own, he made sure it was locked before shoving the key into his pocket. He took a deep breath trying to relax his own nerves, he slowly turned back to Y/N with a smile on his face. “Let’s go,” He held a hand out to her. Y/N glanced at his hand surprised by the gesture before her soft hand slipped into his, it fit perfectly. His warm hand wrapped around hers like it was a normal occurrence. She stood up on her feet with good balance.  “Walking to the ice is the easy part,” He said, guiding them to the rink. The ice rink was large, surrounded by the crisp evening air and the soft hum of cheerful chatter. A canopy of warm, golden string lights weaves around tall, wooden poles encircling the rink, casting a gentle glow that reflects off the smooth ice. The lights flicker softly, their golden hues blending with the deep night sky, where wisps of snow drift lazily from above.

Around the rink, festive winter decorations enhance the cozy, magical atmosphere. Garlands of pine branches, dusted with fresh snow, wrap around the poles alongside twinkling fairy lights. Festive red ribbons and bows are tied neatly along the railings, adding pops of color against the icy backdrop. Wooden crates filled with pine cones and frosted berries sit at intervals, giving the scene a rustic charm. 

Soft holiday music drifts from nearby speakers, mingling with the sound of skates gliding across the ice and the occasional laughter of skaters. Families, couples, and groups of friends move fluidly across the ice—some gracefully gliding, others stumbling and giggling as they hold onto each other for support. Beomgyu turned to face Y/N and took a backward step onto the ice, he did it with such ease, it was natural to him. He stood in place holding Y/N's hand still. He could tell she was feeling unsure about stepping onto the ice. “I promise I won’t let you fall,” He told her, his grip becoming a little more firm on her hand. Y/N nodded, she took a brave step onto the ice, it didn’t feel slippery yet. As soon as she placed her other foot onto the ice she lost her balance. Beomgyu couldn’t help but giggle as Y/N grabbed onto his forearm with her free hand. He kept his promise though and steadied her.

"Okay, okay, I got you," Beomgyu laughed more, steadying her by the waist as she clung onto his arm as if her life depended on it. "You're so tense—you gotta relax a little. If you keep locking your knees like that, you’re just gonna make it harder." Y/N gives him a panicked look, her feet felt like they were slipping slightly beneath her.

"Alright, the first thing you need to keep in mind is balance. Keep your weight centered, not too far forward or back. If you lean too much, you’ll—whoa—" Beomgyu quickly catches her as she wobbles, with a huge grin he pulls her closer to him. "Yeah, like that."

Y/N’s cheeks and neck flushed, she couldn’t breathe being pulled close to Beomgyu like this, his hands were all over her. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting but it wasn’t this, she would have never thought Beomgyu would have her pulled close like this.

Beomgyu brought his hands back up to Y/N’s small hands, and he held onto them gently. "Bend your knees just a little, don’t stiffen up. And when you move, think of it like... pushing off to the side, not straightforward. Like… watch." He smoothly glides backward, demonstrating effortlessly, he pulled her with him.

"See? Small pushes, one foot at a time. You try." Beomgyu encouraged with a sweet smile. Y/N glanced down at her feet and the ice before looking back up at Beomgyu, she shook her head no, she didn’t think she could do it. Her hands grip his tighter, and Beomgyu mindlessly brushed his thumbs across the back of her hands. "You can do it," he reassures, his voice softer now. "I'll go slow, I'll move with you. Just trust me."

With a deep breath and still holding onto him, Y/N hesitantly shifts her weight, attempting the smallest push. It's wobbly, but it works—kind of.

"There you go! See? Not so bad." Beomgyu’s grin is warm and encouraging. "You'll be skating circles around me in no time." 

It earns a soft, quiet giggle from Y/N, one of his new favorite sounds. Eventually, after guiding Y/N around the rink a few times, she managed to push herself forward—slowly, but surely. Beomgyu still held onto one of her hands, keeping them moving with his own steady momentum. “Wanna take a break? Maybe get some hot chocolate,” Beomgyu offered, Y/N was quick to nod, ready to enjoy something warm, she was a bit cold now.

Beomgyu nodded and led them toward the exit of the rink, he helped Y/N over to a bench before he went to a small stall to order hot chocolate for the both of them. While Beomgyu was gone, Y/N let herself sink into the moment, replaying everything that had happened tonight. It felt like a dream, like something out of a story she’d never imagined herself in. The way he held her close, the warmth of his hand never straying far from hers… it was starting to feel like a date, even if he hadn’t said it outright. Her thoughts didn’t linger long, Beomgyu was back in no time with two warm paper cups filled with hot chocolate. “Here,” He murmured, as he sat down next to her on the bench. Y/N accepted the cup with a small smile, the heat seeping into her fingers as she curled them around it.

Beomgyu’s free hand reached out, dusting the snow from her hair with gentle, absentminded touches. He took a sip of his drink, wincing slightly as the warmth stung his tongue. “Are you warm enough?” His voice was soft, laced with quiet concern. Y/N hesitated before offering a small shrug and slight nod as she tilted her head. Letting him know that she was somewhat cold. She took a sip of her drink before cradling it in both of her hands, warming her palms once more.

Beomgyu shifted beside her, his thigh brushing against hers. Without a word, he set his cup down and reached for the dark blue scarf wrapped snugly around his own neck. Y/N watched him, eyes curious as he pulled it off, his fingers working effortlessly. Without saying a word, he gently draped it over her, wrapping it carefully around her neck with slow, precise movements. His touch was light, almost hesitant, as he adjusted the fabric to make sure it sat comfortably. “This should keep you somewhat warm,” His fingers lingered for just a moment, smoothing over the soft wool before finally pulling away. Beomgyu was gazing at her with soft eyes, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips. Y/N glanced up, realizing just how close their faces were—probably the closest they’d ever been. Her eyes flickered over his sharp features, taking in every detail, but it was his scent that overwhelmed her senses. It was soft yet vibrant, it wrapped around her like a cozy embrace. The rich, slightly tangy sweetness of pomegranate stood out first, fresh and bright, as if she had just broken open the fruit herself. Beneath it, delicate floral notes softened the edges, blending into something light and airy. With a light clear of his throat, Beomgyu decided to roll his shoulders back in an attempt to relax. He sat up more straight, and averted his gaze from hers, suddenly all too aware of how close they had been.

Before reaching for his hot chocolate again, his hand lifted to adjust the beanie on his head, tugging it down slightly. It was a small, nervous habit as he processed the lingering warmth of their proximity. The pair sat in comfortable silence as they finished their hot chocolate. Once again Y/N had Beomgyu tongue-tied, his mind scrambling for something to say, yet coming up empty. With a soft sigh, Beomgyu took one final sip of his drink before turning toward Y/N again. “Alright,” He had a playful glint in his eyes. “Think you can keep up with me now?”

Y/N quirked a brow at him, unimpressed by his tease. He stood up, holding out a hand for her. After a brief hesitation, Y/N placed her hand in his, letting him pull her to her feet. Before heading back to the rink Beomgyu threw their empty cups out. Once they were back at the entrance to the ice, Beomgyu let go of her hand and stepped down onto the ice, he adjusted himself so he was skating backward once more. It honestly impressed Y/N with how skillful he was on the ice. Beomgyu flashed her a teasing smile. “Maybe, we could race around the rink?” She gave him a nervous smile and a shake of the head, she wasn’t ready for that yet. She had only just gotten the hang of pushing off the ice, and only with Beomgyu right there beside her. “Come on, try getting on the ice by yourself this time,” He encouraged her.

Y/N's fingers gripped the edge of the barrier as she carefully placed one foot onto the ice. Taking a deep breath, she followed with the other foot, her hold on the barrier tightening as she wobbled slightly, trying to steady herself. “You’re gonna be pro in no time,” Beomgyu chuckled softly as he watched her struggle onto the ice. Y/N smiled softly, she was expecting him to grab a hold of her by now but Beomgyu had other plans. He slowly skated a few feet backward, he wanted her to try and skate to him without his help. “Skate to me,” He told her with a huge grin. “I know you can do it, just trust yourself.” Y/N glanced at the people skating by them, she felt a bit silly for not being able to skate, she felt like everyone’s eyes were on her. 

“You got this,” Beomgyu pulled her out of her thoughts. She nodded a few times before she slowly let go of the barrier. Beomgyu was probably five feet away, he wasn’t far whatsoever.

I can do this, she told herself as she pushed her foot against the ice like he had shown her to do.

Beomgyu watched proudly as she began to slowly skate towards him, he decided to take it a step further and began to slowly skate backward so she would have to skate further without him. He was close enough to her if he needed to jump in and keep her from falling. Y/N gasped softly as she saw him move away from her, she was so surprised that she had almost spoken, she had almost told him to stop, that she needed him. The feeling in her throat surprised her, she didn’t know what to think of it, it’s been a while since she’d felt this way with someone she hadn’t spoken to before. Just the thought of her speaking to him had her cheeks burning, she was glad that it was cold out so she could play it off as if the cold was making her cheeks turn color. As Beomgyu skated, his skate slid across the ice a certain way making him slip and fall onto his bum. A small laugh bubbled up in Y/N's chest as she saw him sitting on the ice, she let it escape her mouth as she saw Beomgyu looking up at her with a pout on his face. However, her laugh quickly faded as she realized Beomgyu never taught her how to stop. She wasn’t going fast, so it wasn’t dangerous, but she was heading straight for Beomgyu.

Beomgyu seemed to notice this as well, he tried to quickly stand up but he wasn’t fast enough. Y/N bent her knees more and leaned forward more than she needed to as she finally reached Beomgyu making her balance completely thrown off. Beomgyu decided the best thing to do was to catch her fall so their skates wouldn’t get tangled up, he didn’t want anyone getting hurt from the blades. She ended up falling toward him, her hands instinctively landing on his chest to catch herself.

To keep her from completely toppling over, Beomgyu reached out to steady her, grabbing her upper arms. Her knees gently hit the ice between his legs, but it wasn’t hard enough to cause any real pain.

Y/N’s ears went red, she gave him an apologetic look, but Beomgyu brushed it off with a smile, laughing softly. His carefree laughter made her giggle too, the tension of the fall disappearing as they both shared the moment.

“You okay?” He finally asked her, he slowly began to help the both of them to their feet.

Y/N nodded then pointed to him and gave him a thumbs up, asking if he was okay as well. “Yeah, I’m okay, my butt is a little wet from sitting on the ice but I’m okay,” He laughed, and his hand went back down to grab a hold of Y/N’s hand, it was a natural action, with no hesitation behind it. “Okay, I guess… let’s just skate together, I don’t want you getting hurt,” His voice was soft again. Y/N nodded, agreeing with Beomgyu. As the night went on, the two continued skating and having fun. At some point, Beomgyu made sure to snap a selfie with her, grinning as he held up his phone. He told her it was to commemorate her first time on the ice, but in reality, he just wanted a picture with her. He figured this was a pretty smooth way to do it without making things awkward. 

Once they were tired they returned the rental skates and made it back to Beomgyu’s car. “You learned a new skill today,” Beomgyu pointed out as he started his car. Y/N nodded her head, offering him a soft smile.

“Honestly, I must say you did really well for your first time,” He smiled back at her. She knew Beomgyu was just saying that to be nice but she appreciated the compliment anyway. Beomgyu turned on the music, keeping the volume low. Y/N noticed that Beomgyu always had to have some kind of noise around him. She didn’t mind though, she just found it interesting. Most of her peaceful moments were filled with silence meanwhile his were filled with the comfort of noise. He entered her address into the maps app before starting to drive toward her home. Like the ride to the ice rink, it was mainly filled with Beomgyu talking about whatever came to mind while Y/N listened to him, nodding here and there when he would glance at her. The ride felt shorter this time, she wished it wouldn’t end so soon. Being with Beomgyu was comforting, far better than facing what awaited her at home. The cold presence of her stepmother lingered in her mind, making her want to stay wrapped in the warmth of Beomgyu’s car just a little longer.

As Beomgyu pulled up in front of her house, Y/N felt a familiar heaviness settle in her chest. The warmth of the car, the quiet hum of the engine, and Beomgyu’s presence made it hard to step out into the cold night. She stared at the porch light glowing dimly, her fingers tightening slightly around the sleeve of her jacket. 

Beomgyu turned to her. “You okay?”

She hesitated, then nodded. But deep down, she wished she didn’t have to go inside just yet. Y/N pulled her phone out, the dim light casting across her face, she began to type a message. Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun (: Oh! And thank you for paying! A small smile appeared on Beomgyu’s face as he read the message. “Seriously, no problem, you don’t have to thank me.” Y/N let a soft smile form as she looked up at him. “I also had a really nice time with you though,” He paused for a moment, feeling a slight knot in his stomach. With a deep inhale he continued. “Maybe we could do this more often? Hanging out together outside of school?” A light pink tint appeared across his face but it was too dark in the car for Y/N to even notice it.

Y/N nodded her head a few times. 

“Cool, well… I’ll talk to you later then?” Beomgyu said with a soft tone, he was excited that she wanted to hang out more, he was trying to keep his cool. Y/N typed one last message to him, she turned her phone so he could read it. Good night (: get home safe!! It was a simple message but it was enough to warm his chest. Y/N grabbed her bag, before slipping out of his car. She turned and gave him a wave as she walked up to the front door of her home. Beomgyu made sure to sit there and make sure she made it inside before he pulled off. As soon as he was on the road, Beomgyu wasted no time connecting to a hands-free call with Taehyun. His excitement bubbled over, he had to talk about everything. “Hello?” Taehyun’s tired voice filled the car. “Taehyun, it was perfect.” Beomgyu had a huge grin on his face. Even in his drowsy state, Taehyun let out a chuckle. “Well… tell me about it.”

The drive back to Beomgyu’s dorm felt like it flew by as he couldn’t stop talking to Taehyun about the night. He went on and on about how fun ice skating was, how Y/N’s nervous laugh was the cutest thing he’d ever heard, and how they had hot chocolate.

At first, Taehyun was half-listening, his tiredness still lingering from a long day. But it didn’t take long for him to notice the shift in Beomgyu’s usual energy. His voice was still upbeat, but there was something extra in it—an almost nervous excitement that made it clear how much he’d enjoyed the night. He wasn’t just talking, he was gushing, like a kid telling a story he couldn’t wait to share.

“Man, you’re really into her, huh?” Taehyun said, sounding amused but not at all surprised. “I’ve never heard you talk this much about a girl before.”

Beomgyu paused, momentarily flustered. His hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as he thought about how to respond. “I… I don’t know, it just felt... easy, you know? I was nervous at first, but once we started skating... it just felt like we were both in the moment.”

Taehyun raised an eyebrow, smirking to himself. “You guys looked pretty cute in that picture. Your scarf looks good on her, yeah?” Of course, Beomgyu sent his best friend the photo they had taken together. 

Beomgyu laughed, feeling heat creep up to his face. “I didn’t say that, but yeah, she looked... really cute." His grin spread wider, his mind replaying the way Y/N had looked up at him when he wrapped the scarf around her neck. It had felt like the whole world had paused for a second.

Taehyun, now fully awake, could hear the soft fondness in Beomgyu’s voice, and something told him this was more than just a casual crush. He could practically picture his friend’s goofy grin as he drove. “Look at you, man. You’re grinning like an idiot. I can hear it.”

Beomgyu couldn’t help it. “I... I guess I am,” he admitted, his smile softening as he thought about Y/N again. “I don’t know what it is, but it feels different with her. I want to see her again. I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Taehyun was quiet for a moment as if weighing his friend’s words. “Well, that’s a good thing, right? Just don’t overthink it, man. If she’s the one you’re thinking about, then you’re on the right path.”

Beomgyu’s grip loosened slightly on the steering wheel, his heart lighter. "Yeah... I think so." He sighed softly.

The next afternoon, Y/N sat at her desk, her fingers gliding over the smooth surface of her sketchbook as she absentmindedly shaded a drawing. Her phone, propped against a candle jar, displayed Jiwon’s face—bright-eyed and animated as she recounted the details of Y/N’s night with Beomgyu for what felt like the tenth time.

“Girl, I told you a picture would be taken. And thank God you didn’t do that forced smile thing,” Jiwon teased, her eyes flicking to the ice rink photo on her screen. A grin spread across her face. “Ugh, you guys look so cute together. I’m so happy.”

Y/N paused mid-shading, her grip tightening slightly around her pencil. “Jiwon… it wasn’t a date,” she muttered, though even as she said it, something in her chest fluttered.

Jiwon let out an exaggerated sigh, dramatically flopping back onto her pillows. “Yeah, yeah… you keep telling yourself that.”

“He never called it a date,” Y/N insisted, her pencil moving in slow, careful strokes as she focused on the sketch. It was easier to concentrate on the lines than to acknowledge the warmth creeping up her neck.

Jiwon hummed knowingly. “Maybe not. But let’s be real, would a guy who doesn’t like you give you his scarf and look at you like that?”

Y/N swallowed, her eyes flickering to the scarf still resting at the foot of her bed. She hadn’t meant to keep it there. She had meant to return it, maybe fold it neatly in her bag for when she saw Beomgyu next. But last night, when she got home, she had hesitated—her fingers brushing over the soft fabric, the faintest scent of his cologne still clinging to it. And now, it was just… there. A quiet reminder of him.

Her lips twitched into a small, unbidden smile. “It was really sweet of him,” she admitted softly, her voice carrying the weight of something unspoken.

Jiwon gasped dramatically. “Oh my god. You’re so whipped.”

Y/N’s head snapped up, her cheeks instantly burning. “I am not,” she denied, far too quickly.

Jiwon grinned like a cat who had just caught a mouse. “Mmm. Right. And that’s why you’re staring at his scarf like it’s some kind of sacred relic?”

Y/N immediately turned back to her sketchbook, willing herself to ignore the giddy feeling in her chest. “I was just… thinking about how nice he is,” she muttered, but even she wasn’t convinced by her own words.

Jiwon smirked. “And how cute he is?”

Y/N still refused to look up, but she could hear the smirk in Jiwon’s voice, and it made her want to sink into the floor.

“So,” Jiwon continued, twirling a strand of her hair lazily around her finger. “When are you seeing him again?”

Y/N shrugged, pretending to be unaffected. “Probably at school.”

Jiwon hummed in response.

A comfortable silence settled between them for a moment, Jiwon lounging on her bed while Y/N focused on her sketch, her tongue poking out slightly in concentration.

“So,” Jiwon said, breaking the quiet, “what are you sketching over there?”

Y/N hesitated for half a second—too long.

“Oh, it’s nothing really…” she said quickly, too quickly. She lowered her head, her fingers fidgeting against the edge of the paper. She didn’t dare meet Jiwon’s gaze.

Jiwon narrowed her eyes. “It’s not nothing. Show me.”

Y/N clutched her sketchbook tighter. “Just doodling some animals. Nothing special.” She avoided eye contact, but the way her fingers hovered protectively over the page gave her away.

Jiwon’s smirk widened. “Come on, please! I won’t judge.”

Y/N shook her head furiously, but Jiwon had the patience of a saint and the persistence of a menace.

“You know I won’t leave you alone until you show me.”

With a dramatic sigh, Y/N reluctantly lifted her sketchbook, her stomach twisting into knots. She barely peeked at Jiwon’s reaction, her whole body burning with embarrassment.

Jiwon’s breath hitched. “Oh my god… Y/N. You’re sketching him?”

Y/N immediately lowered the sketchbook, gripping it tightly against her lap as if that could somehow erase what just happened. “I didn’t mean to,” she mumbled, her voice small. “It just… happened.”

Jiwon was silent for a second before she burst into laughter, her voice teasing but warm. “Oh my god, you have such a big crush on him. You literally sketched him. He’s stuck in your head!”

Y/N’s gaze stayed glued to the page, her fingers tightening around the pencil. She knew Jiwon was just teasing, but the words struck a different kind of nerve.

Because it was true.

No matter how much she tried to push it down, to reason with herself, to tell herself this was just another fleeting crush—Beomgyu was there. In the quiet moments. In the way her heart stuttered whenever she thought about his stupid, lopsided grin. In the warmth of his scarf wrapped around her. In the gentle way he spoke to her, like he saw her.

And that scared her.

She had been here before. Letting someone in, getting too comfortable, only to end up hurt in the end. The realization settled in her chest like a weight, her grip tightening around the sketchbook.

Jiwon, observant, caught the subtle shift in her demeanor. Her laughter faded slightly, replaced with something softer. “Hey…” she said gently, her voice careful. “You okay?”

Y/N forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

Jiwon studied her for a moment before nodding. “Just don’t overthink yourself into a hole, okay? Beomgyu’s not like that.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her eyes flickering back to the sketch. She wanted to believe that.

She really did.

But the fear still lingered, unshakable. Would he prove her wrong? Or would this end like all the others? For now, she didn’t have an answer. Before the conversation could continue, a soft knock tapped against her bedroom door. Panic flared in Y/N’s chest like a struck match. Without thinking, she flipped her sketchbook to a blank page, the pencil nearly slipping from her fingers. Her grip tightened around her phone. “I gotta go,” she whispered hurriedly, ending the call before Jiwon could respond. She set the phone down carefully, as if pretending nothing had happened would erase any evidence of it.

The silence that followed made her pulse race. She didn’t speak, but after a moment, the door creaked open, and her father peeked his head inside. His expression was hesitant, searching. When he spotted her sitting at her desk, he stepped in, closing the door softly behind him.

“Hey,” he said gently.

Y/N glanced up at him, offering a small, cautious smile. She wasn’t sure why he was here, but she waited, hands resting stiffly on her lap, her fingers twitching slightly. The air between them was quiet, uncertain.

“I just wanted to check in on you,” he said after a beat, his voice careful, like he was afraid of overstepping. “You rushed out of the house yesterday.”

Her chest tightened slightly. She had. And she hadn’t looked back.

As her father’s gaze drifted toward her desk, something else caught his attention. A paper, slightly off to the side, where the bright red 100% stood out against the crisp white page. A test. Multiple-choice answers were sloppily circled.

His brows lifted. “Hey, 100?” He stepped closer, picking up the paper to look at it properly. “That’s awesome.”

A flicker of warmth spread through her. Y/N ducked her head slightly, a shy smile tugging at her lips. Moments like this—when it was just them, without the tension of her stepmother’s presence—were rare. She wished they weren’t. She wished she could talk to him more, let him into her world the way she used to when she was younger. But she didn’t know how anymore.

“Did you have a good time last night?” he asked, his voice casual, but his stance betrayed him. He shifted slightly, hands in his pockets, the way he always did when he felt awkward.

Y/N gave him a small nod, her eyes dropping back to the blank page of her sketchbook.

Her father hesitated, then added, “He seemed like a nice guy.”

Y/N stiffened. Her fingers clenched slightly against the edge of her desk, and a grimace flickered across her face before she could stop it. This—this—was the last thing she wanted to talk about with her dad. It was hard enough processing it with Jiwon teasing her about it.

“Okay… okay, I’ll leave it,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. There was the faintest trace of amusement in his voice, but he let it go. “Just wanted to make sure you had a nice night.”

She pressed her lips together into an awkward smile, glancing up at him briefly.

A beat of silence.

Then, in a quieter voice, he said, “I’m proud of you, you know.”

Y/N’s head lifted in surprise.

“For getting out there,” he continued, his tone sincere. “I know it’s not easy for you.” He gave her shoulder a gentle pat, something warm and steady in the gesture, before turning toward the door.

Y/N watched him go, her chest tightening—not in anxiety this time, but in something softer. Warmer.

She barely heard the door click shut before she exhaled, sinking back into her chair. The words settled inside her, wrapping around the parts of her that often felt unseen.

I’m proud of you.

Her gaze lingered on the empty doorway for a few more seconds, soaking in the quiet comfort of the moment.

Then, finally, she turned back to her desk. Without hesitation, she reached for her phone and pulled up the ice rink photo.

Jiwon was right. Beomgyu had been lingering in her thoughts long after the night had ended. She turned back to the sketch of Beomgyu.

Her fingers moved instinctively, pencil gliding across the page, sketching out the curve of his smile, the messy strands of his hair that fell into his eyes. But no matter how much detail she added—the softness of his features, the light in his gaze—she knew it wasn’t enough.

Her art could never quite capture how beautiful he actually was. But still, she kept drawing.

Because if she couldn’t say it out loud, at least she could pour it into something real. Something she could hold in her hands.Something just for herself.

A few hours had passed, Y/N was now at the café, working through her shift. Today, the schedule was overstaffed, which usually meant one thing for her—cleaning duty. It wasn’t that she minded tidying up; in fact, she liked keeping things in order. But days like this always made her feel a little out of place. While her coworkers huddled behind the counter, laughing and chatting freely, she scrubbed surfaces and organized supplies, an outsider in the very place she worked.

They weren’t mean to her. They acknowledged her presence and smiled in passing, but they never truly included her. Every time she finished a task, another would be handed to her without question, as if her silence made her the default choice for the grunt work. It wasn’t their fault, she supposed. It was easier this way—for everyone. Still, she couldn’t help but wish they’d talk to her the way they talked to each other.

At least there was Hajoon. He was different from the others, always making an effort to ensure she was comfortable. He didn’t just give her tasks—he showed her how to do things, explained the ins and outs of the café, and most importantly, treated her like she was part of the team. She was grateful for him.

With a quiet sigh, Y/N wiped down the large café windows, watching as her coworkers joked around at the register. The glass gleamed under her touch, reflecting the warm glow of the café lights. She was exhausted, her arms aching from the repetitive motion. She just wanted to go home, curl up in bed, and disappear into the comfort of her favorite drama.

The chime of the front door startled her from her thoughts. She turned,  her heart stuttered at the sight. It was Beomgyu, Taehyun following behind him.

Her grip on the cloth tightened instinctively. The moment Beomgyu spotted her, he grinned, his entire face lighting up. He raised a hand in an enthusiastic wave before heading to the counter with Taehyun to order.

Y/N hesitated, debating whether she should go over and greet them, but instead, she remained rooted in place, forcing herself to focus on her task. She stole quick glances their way, watching as they laughed and chatted while waiting for their drinks. Beomgyu looked so effortlessly comfortable, so naturally vibrant, that it made her chest ache.

Once they had their drinks, the two of them didn’t head to an open table near the back like she expected. The two men sat at the one closest to where she was cleaning. Her stomach flipped.

“Hey,” Beomgyu greeted her with a smile, his voice warm and familiar.

Taehyun gave her a small nod in greeting, his expression soft.

Y/N swallowed and lifted a hand in a small wave. Then, remembering something, she held up a finger, silently asking them to wait a moment before slipping behind the counter. She dug through her bag, fingers brushing against the soft fabric, and pulled out Beomgyu’s scarf. She had neatly folded it before her shift, making sure it stayed clean. As she returned to their table, she hesitated for just a second before holding it out to him.

Beomgyu blinked, momentarily surprised. “Oh… wait, did you bring your own scarf today then?”

Y/N shook her head.

Beomgyu frowned, then, with a stubborn grin, pushed the scarf back toward her. “Then keep it again. I’m fine without it.”

Taehyun, who had been silently watching, exhaled through his nose and rolled his eyes. He saw right through Beomgyu’s act. He wasn’t just lending her the scarf—he wanted her to have something of his. A quiet, thoughtful gesture. But Taehyun knew Beomgyu well enough to recognize that he wasn’t going to admit it.

Y/N tilted her head, questioning if he was sure.

Beomgyu nodded. “We were thirsty, so I figured we’d stop by and see you.”

Something warm spread in her chest, that new feeling that she began to welcome instead of shy away from it. She pulled out her phone, fingers tapping quickly across the screen.

How are you guys?

Beomgyu glanced at her screen and smiled. “We’re good. Had a lazy Sunday, honestly.”

From the counter, two of her coworkers watched with mild curiosity. They had never seen Y/N interact like this before. To them, she had always been quiet, isolated. But here she was, engaging—laughing silently, typing responses, exchanging glances filled with an ease they had never witnessed. One of the girls, Juha, tapped a finger against the counter, making a mental note. Maybe they had been wrong to assume she didn’t want to be included.

Back at the table, Beomgyu suddenly leaned forward. “Oh, hey… next weekend, there’s gonna be this party. Did you maybe want to come?” He bit his lip slightly, his gaze searching hers. “No pressure, I just thought you could meet some more of my friends.”

Y/N froze.

A party.

Her mind immediately conjured images of crowded rooms, loud music, and unfamiliar faces pressing in on her. The thought alone made her hands clam up. She’d never been to a college party before—what if it was too much? What if she got overwhelmed? What if people expected her to talk? Was it like what she saw in movies? 

Before she could respond, Taehyun cut in. “Wait, that’s not next weekend.”

Beomgyu frowned. “What? Dude, yeah it is.”

“No. It’s not. Check the group chat.” 

Beomgyu sighed, pulling out his phone to scroll through his messages. His lips pressed together when he saw Taehyun was right. Taehyun chuckled, a smug smile sat on his face.

“Well,” Beomgyu looked back up at her with an easy grin, “not this upcoming weekend, but the one after. So I guess you’ll have more time to think about it.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, relieved for the extra time but still uncertain. She wanted to go, she wanted to say yes. But she wasn’t sure if she could handle it, this was something way too out of her comfort zone.

“But uh, if you’re not working this upcoming weekend, maybe we could still hang out?” Beomgyu continued, shifting slightly. “Maybe a movie at my place?”

Y/N hesitated, then quickly checked her work schedule. She turned her phone to show him, her shift ended late on Saturday.

“8:30 too late for you to come over?” Beomgyu asked.

She shook her head.

“Perfect. It’s a date then.” The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

Both of them stiffened.

Y/N felt her entire face heat up. Her brain short-circuited. Date?

Beomgyu’s eyes widened as realization dawned, his expression morphing into pure panic. “I mean—uh—hangout? Not a date. Or—” He groaned, rubbing his temples. “Oh my god.”

Taehyun let out a quiet, suffering sigh. “Wow. That was painful.”

Beomgyu opened his mouth to dig himself into a deeper hole, but Y/N quickly typed out a response, her hands trembling slightly.

Sounds fun! I’d like to watch a movie (: Don’t sweat it!!

Beomgyu read her message and let out a breath. “Perfect. I’ll text you later about it.”

Before they could say more, her coworker called her name. Y/N shot Beomgyu and Taehyun a small wave before disappearing to the back. They needed her to handle a few things in the back of the store before her shift ended. 

The moment she was gone, Taehyun turned to Beomgyu, deadpan. He couldn’t believe his best friend.  “Dude. That was awful.”

Beomgyu groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “I know.”

“But,” Taehyun shifted in his seat, a slight smirk appeared, before he took a sip of his drink, “she still said yes.” Y/N stepped into the storage room, the air cooler and quieter than the café outside. She set down Beomgyu’s scarf on a nearby shelf and ran her hands over her warm cheeks, she exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

A date.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the first box of supplies, stacking cups into their designated spot. The word played on repeat in her mind, making her stomach twist in nervous knots. Beomgyu hadn’t even meant to say it, that much was clear from how flustered he got afterward—but still, the thought of it sent a rush of heat down her spine.

But suddenly her thoughts began to wander toward the party.

Her hands slowed as she tried to picture it. Conversations she wouldn’t be able to escape from. Would Beomgyu stay by her side the whole time? Would she even belong there?

She swallowed hard and focused back on sorting the lids and straws. It wasn’t like she had to say yes. She could just not go, save herself from embarrassment. 

But the way Beomgyu had looked at her, the hopeful smile on his face, the one that made her chest tighten. She liked spending time with him. Even now, just knowing he had come here to see her made her feel lighter.

Her hands found the soft fabric of his scarf, still resting on the shelf beside her. She clenched it gently, then exhaled, trying to push away the doubts clouding her mind.

One thing at a time, she told herself. The hangout was first. Just a movie, something familiar and safe. She could handle that. As for the party… well, she had time to think about it.

✧ taglist: @brrytears @tubasmiracle @sseishiross @dalkom-han

[arn359]

Wine is waaaay to worse than i imagined😭😭😭. I will blame all the fic that i read about him and make like he was a nice guy. The fact that i will immediatly shoot the other au without question if he meet them is insane. And the way he always want more power and he will always try to manipulate the king . Also poor coffee😓.

Anon, I’m using your ask to ramble about Wine. And it’s too long…. So i think i will put the rest under the cut. After the pic.

I haven’t read much of fics that have Wine in it. But with so little information about him, the way it scattered around and languages barrier. I understand that ppl may have different view of him, also is the setting of the fic. If it’s on the surface, i guess he could be better???

But there’s a thing about FSG(Fellswap-Gold) being set in communist theme , Wine being the head of the royal guard, AKA he the head government. Idk about you guys, but for me. Any head government of a dictatorship system could never be a nice guy. NEVER. IT’S UNACCEPTABLE.

Though, you guys can have fun, just don’t forget it exists in real world. And even thought it’s not real. Propaganda exists, so is the media effects.

I summarized some of the timeline in the second pic (The art is based from the creator)

I hate Wine so much, but here i am defending him(?) nope just explaining my insight. (i still haven’t read the setting with proper translation , so this is my headcanon from what i understand)

Wine will immediately shoot other AU.

It’s both Gaster and the system that made him that way. He’s born to be the best solider. He trained hard, deem to be love by Gaster but Gaster only see him and Coffee as tools. After Wine feelings toward Coffee became ‘his only family’ Wine wants to protect Coffee. Wine changed to rely on Coffee being relied to him. Wine betrayed Gaster cuz Gaster want to get rid of Coffee.

Wine is a conservative, because that what the system always is.

So Wine will shoot other AU immediately because for the system. AU is see as threat. The AU would bring new possibilities and that’s against the conservative view that is to continue the old/current system.

(The dictatorship and conservative control the knowledge of their citizens. Keep their knowledge low so it makes them easier to control. Risks of having the AU be seen by citizens is not good. Citizens can’t see new things, can’t have more knowledge of other AU, can’t know that world with freedom exist. So the AU is see as threat)

But of course, Wine is not really a full conservative as we seen in some settings about him, like Wine doesn’t discriminate toward Undyne&Alphys, Wine support Grillby and Muffet interracial wedding. But the system, the time(their au set in old period), and social. Also is the way he grow up, the way he need to be ‘the best’. It rooted too deep into his mind. And it show with what he said toward Coffee.

Yes Wine always seek power.

Because he’s a coward. Wine felt loved when Coffee relied on him as a child. But when they grow up, Wine still think that way to the point of unhealthy. Because he feared of being alone and lost his only family. And because of the system in underground is like that, he needs power to stay safe. To stay alive and hope that the thing he fears the most never come true. So it lead to seeking powers.

Wine for me, he’s a coward, he fears and the only way he knows how to ease those fears is to have more power.

Kinda words these badly, cycling nonstop. But it’s really just the way it is. Cycle. The system can't be changed. It needs to be perished.

Yes…. Poor Coffee…he also has a problem… but that’s for another time. Another post… the bairnrot hitting me bad…

These information are from @/fsg-settings go check it or you can see my post and a link to my doc i collected all the information in one doc and used google translated on them. So you can just read there. Or maybe opening the web would be easier?

[gayestcowboy]

fantasy dildo recs please? im trying to find one that isnt like $100 but is still good and reputable and wont fill my body with microplastics. ive been looking at neotori and they look great but;; the price;;; anyway yeah recs please?

hi! i have a lot of information for you.

first off, my specific recommendations of fantasy toy shops i’ve bought from or know to be reputable: uberrime, wandering bard, twilight meadow creations, strange bedfellas, pleasure forge, pp sculptors, batbites, xenocat artifacts. all of these shops have toys under 100 usd. uberrime especially has a huge selection including non-fantasy, realistic, and dual density. my top 3 fantasy toys right now are TMC’s ambrose (mini), wandering bard’s shadow demon (x small), and uberrime’s ardor dragon (small). highly recommend ambrose to transmascs with bottom growth. also it looks cool as fuck. mine is bright green and yellow.

second, this google doc is a masterpost of fantasy and fantasy-adjacent sex toy companies (created as a list of alternatives to bad dragon) and is organized quite well, and includes some shops to be wary of. it was last updated in 2022 so it’s outdated, but it’s massive and still quite useful. safe fantasy toys dot com also lists body safe toy companies, although you should still check reputability of the company before you buy (some of the companies listed on the site should still be avoided for various reasons— try cross checking with the google doc, browsing reddit, etc). all of the specific companies i recommend in this post use platinum silicone only, but if you go searching for other toys make sure to avoid jelly and other porous materials because they cannot be sanitized properly and will store bacteria. just like with piercing and body jewelry (another one of my special interests lol), it’s always better to pay more for safety when it’s something going inside your body. reputable stores will always list the material, and tend to have pages on their sites with even more specific information on their silicone. shipping also affects the price, especially international shipping.

also, when youre shopping for fantasy toys, make sure you check the sizing. smaller toys are frequently under 100 usd. many fantasy toys tend to be quite large anyways, especially knotted toys (many small knotted toys still have diameters of 2”+ which is usually too large for me personally. for reference i think the average human penis is somewhere around 1.5” diameter.) there’s so much diversity in fantasy toys that you will probably be able to find toys that fit your desired length/girth and are still classified as small and therefore less expensive. if you’re new to fantasy toys or have trouble with insertion (or even just have an average sized vagina/rectum), small fantasy toys can be cost efficient and accessible and more fun than more standard toys. many stores will also sell b-grade toys at a discount for minor cosmetic flaws that don’t affect usage. also, there’s a pretty big market for secondhand toys/dong sales on twitter, reddit, etc so if you’re willing to buy secondhand, that can be more cost efficient. quality silicone toys can be properly sanitized by boiling and other methods. for more cheap options— good glass toys can frequently be under 50 usd, and are easy to sanitize. also, tantus isn’t quite a fantasy brand, but it’s very high quality and has some great toys on the cheaper side (i love the tantus magma). and if you want a really good cheap vibrator, the romp hype is amazing and only 35 usd.

i am by no means an expert, just incredibly autistic, but i hope this helps! i’m always happy to try answering questions about sex toys!

[dreamsofbroflovski]

Dude, I just— I made a Tumblr account to follow you JANDKSND and ask for a request 🤧🤧

Can we have some of Kyley-B x reader? 😵‍💫 I would like to read a cliché of the innocent girl and the bad boy who incites her to do illicit things (with smut, of course). 🙏🙏🙏🙏

Heeeeeyaaaaaa my first request! ❤️

I am so so so so sorry for taking so long to get to it. Really need to make my writing more speedy and efficient.

Hope you liked it, and once again, really damn sorry 😭😭😭

Also, a belated merry christmas/happy holidays to everyone!

Kyley-B x Reader - trinitrotoluene

Also available on ao3!

Summary: An innocent librarian's whole views on the world - as well as her guts - are rearranged when she takes into the equation South Park's resident New Jersey asshole. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content (everyone involved is above the age of consent), Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Semi-Public Sex, Doggy Style Position

A/N: Gods was this one hard. I never imagined writing Kyley-B would be this hard. Props to everyone who has managed thus far, because this guy wrestled against me in my mind for the whole 14 pages of the Google Docs and even now that I'm posting it I'm not sure I actually won.

I tried my hardest to put together what an adult version of Jersey Kyle would be if he really donned the mantle. Hope I did him justice.

The story of how my life changed forever was rooted in New Jersey, but happened nowhere near there.

When I applied to work at the South Park Public Library, I thought it would be an easy task. Library work in a small secluded town, in a day and age where people mostly forgot about physical books due to the convenience of Kindles or their own phones? How hard can it be? Turns out, very. The place greatly suffered from a lack of useful employees, so I ended up doing a lot of extra work that had nothing to do with what I was hired for, with no extra pay, when the salary was already not that stellar to begin with. Not a great headstart for a fresh-out-of-college English major such as myself, but it was this or the 7/11.

Days like that one kind of made the whole thing worth it, though. Summer weekends in the middle of July, when all the students were on vacation and people lacked the urge to read in favor of other activities, and the only people that would actually visit the library would be soft-spoken loners who just craved the social connection but at the same time didn’t want to chase it. In those days, I was able to just sit back on my chair at the reception counter and take full advantage of the amount of books around me, reading to my heart’s content for almost a full eight hours and getting paid for it.

Such a situation is how I found myself at that particular moment. Curled up as well as I could get in my tiny office chair, my shoes forgotten under the desk in favor of the comfort of being barefoot, yet another book in my hands that wasn’t part of my enormous ‘To Read’ list. It was all cruising up to be another quiet and peaceful day, just a few check outs and some small talk.

Except it wasn’t.

I heard the sizzling of a dynamite’s wick before seeing a full blown atomic bomb. Loud squeaky sounds of sneaker soles trudging across the hardwood, strings of profanities being spewed with each step, followed by the shocked gasps of some of the people seated nearby and their hurried movement as they got out of the way in every direction. Noise like this would usually have me kindly remind its emitter of the setting around them and beg for more silence, but as I raised my eyes from my book, I knew it would be of no use.

Already in front of the counter was one of the most obnoxious-looking men I had ever seen. His blazing curly red hair was slicked back with an obscene amount of gel on it, to the point where it made me wonder if it just started to stay that way after his showers. I couldn’t see him from the waist down, but he was wearing a loose fit wife beater, showing off the muscles of his arms in all their ‘glory’. A golden chain dangled around his neck, clearly fake, the paint already chipped in places where its links connected. His tanned skin already looked out of place in the cold town in the middle of the mountains, where its citizens were mostly pale due to never seeing enough sun to actually get a tan to begin with - but this man was just a few shades away from orange, painfully artificial, he’d stand out like a sore thumb no matter where he was.

“That’s right, you better fucking go, bitch!” The loud addition to my peaceful workplace called out angrily, looking over his shoulder, finishing up his threats on the last bypasser he could before turning his face forward again, which finally let me take a good look at his features. There I saw which had to be the only real thing about him - intense olive eyes that glinted with a fire unknown to me, pure passion and energy, the type that could either burn someone to the ground or keep them warm and safe in the winters. Right now, however, they could set the entire library ablaze by sheer feral glares alone.

I hurriedly scrambled to adjust my position in my seat and rested my book to the side of my computer. “Good afternoon and welcome to the South Park Public Library, restrooms are at the end of the first corridor to the left,” my explanation was kind and gentle, accompanied by a gesture of my hand in the general direction I spoke of.

“I don’t wanna know about no fuckin’ toilet,” the man spat, as if me merely opening my mouth to say something that was of no use to him was enough to make him angry beyond measure, “I’m here to return this.”

With an unneeded display of strength that made all the other items in the counter shake slightly, he slammed a book on it in front of me, his hand staying splayed on top of the cover, allowing me to see that his fingers were fully decked out in fake gold rings in the same fashion of his chain.

Even without seeing the full thing, I recognized that book immediately. My eyes widened. If I was to be honest, I didn’t even imagine the guy in front of me was capable of reading to begin with - and the book he brought was such difficult literature, even I struggled with it at first, so to imagine he deliberately checked that one out and allegedly read it to completion flabbergasted me.

I forced myself to blink and reel back from my shock before continuing the interaction. Get it together, I told myself mentally. My mother told me all the time to never judge a book by its cover - even if that defeated the whole purpose of book cover graphic designers to begin with -, and this was what I was doing right now; letting my prejudices get in the way of what could be a healthy interaction with a fellow bookworm.

Lightly, I placed my hands on the sides of the book and pulled it slowly towards me, letting it slide under his palm, which I avoided touching altogether lest it make him more angry. “Of course, sir,” I managed to assemble a gentle smile on my lips, trying my best to not let my previous thoughts show up on my face.

“Don’t call me sir, I’m not that old,” this complaint was slightly less persistent, but I was still not about to test his limits on it.

“Of course… Mister,” the word in that context sounded way too weird to me, but it was better than the two alternatives of either insisting on ‘sir’ or just not calling him by any title at all, “I’m just gonna need your library card, if you have it on you right now…”

His hand left the counter to retrieve something in his pocket, before swiftly passing to me a tiny rectangular piece of plastic - his library card, the old design of them at that, which meant he had it for quite a while now. My eyes narrowed as I scanned it, my brain multitasking with my fingers typing his card number on the database, and I found myself repeating the information out loud. “Alright, let’s see… Kyle Br-”

“Kyley-B,” his correction came harsh and immediate, stopping me from saying even one more letter of his government name, “And don’t you dare forget it.”

I really hadn’t. It wasn’t like I didn’t know his name, everyone knew it well - he was an infamous face in town. Originally from New Jersey and carrying with him every single terrible stereotype about the place, the man before me caused trouble wherever he went, having very little regard for anything that didn’t concern himself, and yet expecting everyone else to show him the respect he lacked for them. He had actually been in South Park longer than I did, but apparently what was said held true: you can’t take the Jersey out of someone.

“M-My apologies… Kyley-B,” I tried my best to abide by his request and use his nickname in a sentence no matter how ridiculous it sounded, while still typing on the computer to avoid enhancing his anger in any way, “It’s all set. Feel free to peruse the collection if you’d like to borrow something else.” Please don’t was the thought that came right after.

He nodded curtly, taking the card from me to put it back in his pocket, and I noticed his shoulders relaxing a little. Apparently, me being polite and understanding appeased him greatly, like he had understood that I wasn’t one of the assholes trying to get him pissed or something. For as long as I was respectful, I’d stay out of the path of destruction. I could swear I saw the intensity in his eyes shift a bit - but I avoided staring too long, both in fear of getting him angry again and in slight embarrassment at the thought that he might notice me doing that. “Thanks. I think I will.”

Leaning back in my chair and picking my book back up in my hands, I figured that was that. Kyley-B would go off somewhere looking for trouble and I’d be back to my silence and my reading. Yet I didn’t hear the same noises I had when he arrived; no cursing, no loud shoes, no nothing. When I raised my eyes again, he was still there - leaning towards me with his forearms on the counter and a curious expression on his face.

“Do you… Need any help?” I inquired, slowly placing the book on my lap and rolling the chair closer to the desk so he wouldn’t believe for a second that he didn’t have my attention.

A smirk curved his lips as he eyed me up and down. “Nah, just… Perusing.” 

Well, now that’s a word I would never hear out of the mouth of a Jersey guy.

“Okay…” My fingers nervously tapped the cover of my book. “If there’s anything I can do for you, then-”

“There is, actually,” his body swayed slightly as he shifted his weight on his feet, “Has to do with my phone. You can put your number in it.��

Another jolt of bewilderment crossed my features. Allowing myself to focus my eyes on his again, I then understood what it was I saw on them earlier. Attraction. Now that he wasn’t angry anymore, Kyley-B was allowing himself to see me as a woman instead of Personal Enemy Number Ten Thousand. And he made no attempt to hide that he liked what he saw. The blood ran to my cheeks and ears before I could compose myself, my body clearly not accustomed to such unabashed interest. “E-Excuse me?”

“Your number, baby,” he repeats as if it’s nothing, “Could say I’m tryna make a movie with you here, but you clearly rather have your erotica in book form.”

What kind of Jersey asshole even knows about the word ‘erotica’? “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

A ring-adorned index finger pointed towards the book on my lap and I froze. I had deliberately chosen the version of this book - a rather obscure piece of erotic literature, the first of a series - that had a more passable cover, absolutely nothing in it that could give away its themes, in a way that they could only be known by someone who already knew the title. And there was no way Kyley did, right?

“I’ll tell you right now, stop at the first one. The sequels are garbage.” Kyley did. He shook his head with his own advice, like the memories of having to go through the continuations of that book brought stress back to his mind again.

My hands quickly grabbed the book and tried to hide it behind my computer monitor, away from his eyes, but the damage had been done. I tried to retort, but the words got stuck in my throat, coming out as gasps that enhanced further my petrified face, my wide eyes and the intensifying blush in my cheeks and ears. 

“Cat get ya tongue?” Kyley teased as if reading my mind, his upper body leaning over the counter so his pointing finger could brush softly against my cheek, “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I’m no blabbermouth.”

Still I took a bit to relax and believe his words. This was a small town, gossip spread as easily as the snow fell, it would be hard to show my face anywhere without having jokes hurled towards me about being a ‘closeted freak’. Which was extremely far from the truth, to be honest - that genre of book was not amongst my most read, I was as vanilla as they came, it was literally an unfortunate circumstance that led to anyone finding out about this.

The fact that Kyley-B was so uncharacteristically decent and understanding about it too, despite the initial teasing when he was hitting on me, threw me off even more. He had no reason to help me, and he was notorious for being unhelpful, so this was odd behavior on his part. My mind raced with reasons as to why that would be, trying to make sense of the madness - maybe he had secrets of his own, or maybe he just understood how it was to be the subject of unsavory discussions everywhere he passed. Either way, I found myself thankful for his actions.

Eventually, I let out a deep sigh, my lungs almost hurting as I did. “Thank you… Kyley.” I murmured, nodding slowly, my eyes shining with the gratitude that I couldn’t express with words without sounding corny.

He brought his hand back to himself, and I looked at his face again, seeing the exact same intense expression as before. Maybe, in my slight delirium of trying to build up Kyley-B as an actual human being with thoughts and feelings instead of your stereotypical Jersey playboy, I had imagined it faltering.

“That’s something I like to hear,” the flirtatious tone of voice was back with a vengeance, “Now, about that phone number of yours...”

And just like that, I was avoiding his eyes once more, my hands drifting down to fidget with the hem of my skirt absentmindedly, making me look even more suspicious. “I… I don’t know if that would be appropriate.”

“We only have to get inappropriate if you want me to,” his smirk grew. His voice didn’t even drop in volume as he said this, like he was completely comfortable with talking to unknown women like that - which he probably was, “We can just go party, have a couple drinks, make some noise, shit, whatever it is you like.”

Whatever it was I liked did not involve any of the things he mentioned. “I… I’m afraid I might not be the ideal person for that.” As I tried to let him down easy, I felt a striking pain in my chest; like the act of refusing made me uncomfortable, like I somehow wanted to accept it, even though it didn’t belong to me at all. “But thank you for the offer.”

“‘Not ideal’? What the fuck is that about?” He retorted, and for a moment I thought I might’ve riled him up again - but, although he was still loud, he didn’t seem angrier. More so confused about what I said rather than the circumstances of it. “I’m inviting ya, ain’t I? How the fuck is that not ideal?”

“It’s not the invitation!” I was quick to respond, “It’s just I don’t think I’m the right kind of company for all that… I’m sure there’s better people in town who would love to go clubbing with you.”

“Well, I’m not inviting those other people, I’m inviting you!” It was clear the insistence would not wane anytime soon. He rubbed his eyes with his palms for a bit, his mind trying to come up with a solution, before taking a deep breath and looking at me again. “How about some coffee, or tea, then? You into that?”

My eyes widened in surprise and he probably knew he struck gold there. A coffee shop was much more up my alley, but never in a million years would I imagine the likes of Kyley-B in such an environment - somewhere with no alcohol, no loud music, and where fighting was not tolerated. “I… I am, yes.”

“Coffee it is, then,” his tone was every bit as comfortable as he was when he mentioned partying, “Just gotta avoid that one place near the movie theater. Tastes like shit and the owner is a piece of garbage.”

A small giggle left my mouth. I had been to that coffee shop and knew its owner personally, it wasn’t hard considering the town was pretty small. For once in his life, Kyley-B was right, even if I personally wouldn’t phrase it all like he did. The business was probably only kept standing due to the fact people were too used to it by now, but it was the one place where I wouldn’t mind seeing a Jersey-level rage outburst take place. 

My reaction was stifled by a glare Kyley shot at me, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to understand if I was laughing at him or with him. “I’m sorry! It’s just… I don’t like that place either.” I admitted, immediately scanning the library hall with wide eyes, trying to see if there was anyone around that could’ve heard me say that. 

His expression relaxed and he nodded. “You ain’t gotta be so shy, you know,” he commented, his tone slightly more serious, “If you have your truth, then you gotta just say it. It’s how we do it in Jersey, and it works!”

It didn’t really work, but I wasn’t about to question him, not when the structure of his message was in the right place. My whole existence happened inside strict lines ever since I was a kid, I was one to keep my opinions to myself and rein in my actions to keep myself palatable to the people around me. This lifestyle had me sheltered to a fault, but until that moment I was fine with it; going through life avoiding trouble kept me healthy and safe, and I didn’t want to jeopardize that. However, Kyley-B’s advice still held some sort of water, and I found myself willing to hear more, even though it came from such an unreliable narrator.

“I know, I know… I just didn’t want anyone to hear me say that. It feels weird.” I shrugged.

“Well, maybe if that place wasn’t so trashy, you wouldn’t have to complain about it, it’s exactly what I am saying!” He retorted, the serious edge in his voice gone and replaced by the usual annoyance. “And I keep telling people that, but they won’t listen!”

With every passing millisecond, Kyley-B managed to confuse me more. While a part of me was stuck on the still present image of the annoying jerk who only knows how to pick fights and be rude to others, another part slowly took form; one that was intrigued about that man, knowing that although he could be a little too much, he was still completely true to himself, which is more than what can be said about a lot of the people around me. Right now, he carried his actions like a motorcycle zig-zagging through the traffic of my mind. Its destination? The inside of my skirt. 

“I’ll keep that in mind… Thank you.”

Kyley-B nodded with a smirk, content that I wasn’t disputing him like people usually seemed to do. Though something told me that even if I did, I still wouldn’t be subjected to the same type of verbal abuse others would if they tried that. “Now, back to that coffee…” 

I then managed to notice that we weren’t alone in our conversation anymore when a hand sneaked from behind the Jersey man, tapping his shoulder a bit. Immediately my brain was blaring sirens, the word ‘DANGER’ being transmitted by every one of my neurons. “Excuse me, sir?” Another male voice called out, well-mannered enough, yet still firm.

Kyley-B immediately turned to face the unknown third party, his eyebrows furrowing and whole expression hardening into anger. “What the fuck do you want? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something here?”

Apparently the stranger had very little regard for his life, because he didn’t back out from the rude display, their tone instead becoming louder and more insistent in retaliation. “Well, your ‘something’ needs to happen somewhere else, because I have to check out this book and this is the only counter available!” He lifted his hand to show Kyley the book he was holding, as if that would drill the information into his skull.

All it did was make him more angry. He quickly snatched the book from the client’s hand, throwing it with such force it managed to hit the wall farthest from us, before stepping closer to the stranger and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

The client was stunned for a second, both from his book being thrown and from the sudden inferred physical threat. “What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?” Through his shock he still managed to spit back, trying his best to mirror Kyley’s body language and tone; but it’s hard to be as violent as a guy from Jersey. “Can’t you see you’re fucking wrong? Back off!”

“No, you back off!” Kyley used both his hands to push his adversary away - the other guy stumbled backwards a few feet, but luckily didn’t fall. However, the Jersey man was quick to breach the freshly created distance with hard steps. “I’ll fucking teach garbage like you not to mess with me!”

Right in front of the stranger again, Kyley cracked his knuckles and squared his shoulders. The other guy straightened his posture and balled both fists at his sides, prepared to strike the Jersey threat right back if it came to that.

Mustering the small courage I had in me and having to force my fear-frozen legs to move, I ran from behind the counter towards the two men, putting my hands on their shoulders and praying to all deities that my presence would make them back off instead of turning me into a casualty of the upcoming brawl. “G-Gentlemen, please, don’t…” My voice was thin and desperate, reflecting the state of my mind as I tried to diffuse this situation to the best of my abilities, “There’s no need for any of this! Please, calm down!”

Luckily, they heard me well enough, and my guess is having to acknowledge the presence of a woman put a damper, however small, in their urge to clash. For a moment, our little group was completely silent except for the heavy breathing noises coming from the three of us - the two men furious like bulls about to strike, and me in terrified anxiety over the situation. They maintained a quiet staredown for what felt like forever, and I knew that if they were telepaths, the offenses they’d be mentally hurling at each other would contain curse words that could make a sailor blush. Then Kyley-B did something I didn’t even think he could physically do - he took a step back from a fight.

“Screw this noise,” he huffed, before turning his face to me again and making a gesture with his arm that beckoned me to accompany him somewhere, “Come on, can’t fucking talk in here without a shithead butting in.”

“W-What? Come on where?” My hands gestured desperately towards both my counter and the client in front of Kyley, who the redhead was now clearly ignoring as if he was nothing more than a decorative piece of the library, much to the other’s confusion, “I mean, I’m working right now!”

Before I could stop him, he walked back to the reception and reached over to the space of my desk, his hand clumsily scattering a bunch of the items on it before he could retrieve what he wanted - a small desk sign that just said ‘Be Back Soon’. He placed it firmly on top of the counter, the text facing him. “There. Now you ain’t.”

Kyley-B didn’t even allow me to put my shoes back on before he grabbed me by the wrist and started taking me away from the reception. I sent the other client one last apologetic look over my shoulder as Kyley dragged me, his sneakers louder than ever as he brought a barefooted me all the way to the farthest hallways of the library, down the always empty and slightly dusty Latin Literature section. His hand only loosened its hold when we stopped walking completely. Place was empty except for me, him and one of the trustworthy metal library carts, containing an assortment of books that needed to be delivered back into their proper shelves.

When he put both his hands in his pockets, I realized that now, away from the reception counter, I could see the lower half of his body. Even though he wore a belt, his acid wash denim jeans still hung a bit low on his hips - when his shirt shifted slightly, I could see the top of his boxers’ waistband peeking out. A look that normally would have given me pause when it came to a guy, but at that moment, what paused was my gaze, that I had to forcefully tear away from the region as I imagined what he looked like minus the outfit.

“Fucking finally. Can’t stand those hicks sticking their nose in business that ain’t theirs.” He spat, looking over his shoulder a bit towards the direction from which we came, like he was still trying to send his message to the other man who couldn’t even hear him anymore. 

“I guess...” I didn’t really want to continue dwelling on what just transpired; Kyley’s anger was still fresh - was it ever not? - and the last thing I wanted was for him to decide to head back and finally start what he was about to before I intervened. Besides, from our small interaction in the reception desk, I had learnt that he had a ‘not complete jerk’ side to him that was much more tolerable to be around.

“I swear, people in this town stress me the fuck out. Gahbage, all of them.“ He shook his head and with that, finally turned his face back to me - his expression was still intense, but at least he wasn’t completely pissed off anymore, and a hint of that cocky flirtatious grin had returned to his lips. “Well, not all. But enough about that bullshit. What do they call you around these parts?”

The way he asked for my name sounded weird to me, but I guess that’s the type of sentence someone’s got to use when their name is ‘Kyley-B’ and they refuse to be referred to as anything else. “I’m Y/N.”

‘Y/N, huh? That’s hot.”

Of all the adjectives he could have chosen, he went for the one I had never seen used before to describe a name, especially mine. “What do you mean by that?”

Kyley frowned a bit in confusion. “I mean it’s hot, what of it?” The answer came with a dismissive shrug, as if it was obvious and I was dumb for even having something to question. “Your name is hot, you’re hot, there’s not much else to say.”

My mouth spoke before my mind could catch the words this time. “Well, that’s a surprise.”

His frown intensified and I put my hands over my lips, the mistake getting to me. “And what do you mean by that?”

“Well, it’s just, I’ve seen you around,” my brain cells worked themselves into overdrive trying to find a way to say it that didn’t sound accusatory, “With some girls, and…”

Lively laughter that almost seemed to rumble the books on the nearby shelves interrupted my train of thought. “Oh, so that’s what this is about?” Kyley ran his fingers through his own hair - it almost didn’t even move due to the sheer amount of hair gel. “Don’t ya worry about it, baby. I like the covered up look too. You’re really pretty.” 

He eyed me up and down slowly, still grinning, as if he truly appreciated what he saw. I looked down at myself as well, taking in my outfit - a loose-fitting blouse, a skirt that ended just barely above my knees, my bare feet that were earlier covered by a pair of flats. Miles away from the style of the women that I’d seen Kyley-B have in his arms - women who wore clothes with much less fabric, shoes with much higher heels, makeup with much more vibrant colors. Women that dressed like they wanted the attention, in the way that Kyley’s personality denounced the same thing.

Yet that Jersey man still looked at me like he wanted me in a much worse way than he’d want any of those girls, beyond just flirting for the hell of it or so he could add another number to his body count. And I was eating it up despite myself - having the undivided attention of Kyley-B in a somewhat private setting like this, instead of fighting other women for it at a club or something, was deliciously feeding into my ego, and it took everything in my mind for me to remind myself that this was my job and I was working and there is no way anything can happen and oh my lord his eyes are so gorgeous.

My eyes drifted to the floor, suddenly very interested in the nail polish on my toes and the small creases on Kyley’s Jordans. “Thank you…”

 “See? This is what I’m talking about.” One of his hands made its way to my chin, tilting it upwards just enough to bring my attention towards his face again.“That’s the fourth time you’ve thanked me now. Makes me wanna actually give you something to be thankful for.”

Now forced to look at him - honestly, I don’t know how ‘forced’ I really was, considering I made no attempt to dodge my head away from his hold -, the fire reddening my face was on full display for Kyley, a sight that made his smirk widen.

“There’s no need for that,” I murmured, though the little vain monster in my heart yearned for him to continue talking about me like that, to continue making me feel actually interesting, “It’s just… who I am.”

He stepped closer, keeping his eyes on mine. “Who you are? I wanna know all about that… Inside and out.”

My nervous hard swallow was audible. I was sure I could boil a kettle using only the heat radiating from me at that moment. His voice was dripping with desire; the double entendre almost making the air around us crackle with how charged it was. Despite my whole body presenting all my real feelings, my personality still clamored for some semblance of that decorum that Kyley-B was trying to make slip away. "I don’t know… I don’t think we should…”

“Why not?” This time, there was no anger in his voice as he questioned me; its volume had dropped lower, matching the ‘private’ nature of the conversation. “I’m into it, you’re into it, I don’t see the issue.”

I could’ve denied, said he understood everything wrong and I was just being polite, thanked him for his time and left that place with my decency intact. But I was always a very bad liar, and there was no denying the way my heart beated like a drum with his proximity, how my face got beet red just from our simple conversations, or the way I eagerly paid attention to every word that came out of his mouth.

Why was I feeling so drawn to his offer anyway? Was it the forbidden aspect of it all, the knowledge that I’d be going wild and letting loose while still maintaining the looks of a productive member of society? Did I internally enjoy the attention of someone who usually went for women that had nothing to do with me in either appearance or personality? Was the savior complex acting up again, the ‘I can change him’ mentality? All of the above would lead to the same outcome.

Another thing that really led me towards the path of surrendering to Kyley was the fact that, during all of this, he still hadn’t touched me in any way that was inherently sexual, despite all of his verbal advances. He was still waiting for my consent, exhibiting atypical patience, which made me believe he would’ve been okay even if I legitimately rejected him - the thing he couldn’t take was me hiding myself from the both of us, my attempts at masking my interest, and that’s why he was still pressing the issue. He wanted to take me, but he also had to make sure I wanted to be taken.

“Come on, baby… Talk to me…” His voice dropped even lower as he took the final step towards me, our bodies inches from each other now, “Wanna know what’s going on in that pretty little mind…”

The deep shuddering breath I took brought to me the smells of old books and some very strong cologne, the latter of which I could easily imagine on my pillow. “Need you…”

His hands grabbed both sides of my face and he pulled me into a fierce kiss, groaning into my mouth once we collided. His lips were surprisingly soft, likely due to a religious application of chapstick, but the kiss as a whole was still rough in a figurative sense; tough, possessive, everything that man was now being transferred to me through the clashing of our mouths, basically demanding me to respond in kind.

Which was something I didn’t even know I could do. I wasn’t necessarily a virgin, but that doesn’t mean I was all that seasoned, either. My years in university weren’t necessarily the great breeding ground for sexual experience that they seemed to be for everyone else - turns out all the other English majors were more interested in reading about steamy affection and whirlwind romances rather than actually living them. 

So that moment with Kyley-B, in the back of my workplace, was the first moment of my life I actually felt desired - like my whole presence did something for the man in front of me, something he couldn’t ignore. And I found myself in equal measure wanting him as well, entranced by his untamed nature, like a tiny wild side of me I didn’t even know existed was slowly coming to life now that he was close enough.

We needed to have each other. So, letting my last sliver of rational thought become dust and settle on the books in the shelves around us, I kissed him back, my hands resting on his shoulders and gently bringing him even closer. Kyley’s hands tightened around my waist and he pushed me backwards until I felt my ass lightly hit the library cart, hearing the faint squeak of the wheels as they moved a bit from the slight impact. His tongue led mine in a sensual dance, one that I initially didn’t know the moves to, but that quickly became second nature under his expert tutoring. His hips pressed against me and I was a bit glad to notice he was clearly affected too, seeking whatever friction he could get by grinding his bulge against my lower abdomen. 

Both of us had our chests heaving heavily when we pulled back in need of air, and that’s when I realized my whole body was trembling with a mix of nerves and anticipation. “Please…” was all I could manage to say, and I didn’t even know what I was begging for; for Kyley-B to calm down, to keep going, to do more, to bring me somewhere else or take me right there. Just whatever it was that would calm down the heat on my lower abdomen, since I knew only he could take care of that now.

“You really know your magic words, what a good girl,” Kyley murmured with his mouth still inches from mine, his words teasing, but with an undertone of praise. One of his hands slowly drifted down from my waist, pulling up the fabric of my skirt a bit just so it could slide under, a feather-light touch making its way towards my inner thighs until it settled right over my clothed pussy - the material already thoroughly damp from just his previous contact.

Two of his fingers traced my slit over my panties before they stopped right on top of my clit, applying slight pressure to it before rubbing tight firm circles over it, the fabric of my underwear providing even more friction against my extra sensitive bundle of nerves. My teeth dug into my lower lip as I stifled my whimpers, squirming quietly under Kyley’s teasing moves.

“You’re real wet, ya know that?” He moved his head so that he could whisper in my ear, his teeth grazing my earlobe. The tip of his tongue then slowly traced the outline of my ear, a seductive gesture that sent goosebumps through my whole body. “Love to see it. Basically dripping for me.”

His digits moved back lower between my thighs, tracing me yet again, but the pressure on my clit wasn’t missed for long, as his palm was now flat against it, applying a bit of pressure and moving just barely to still keep me sensitive. He pushed my very damp panties to the side, a finger now circling my entrance, the small wet sounds it made almost deafening to me, proving Kyley’s previous claim without a doubt.

When he pushed his index in, I grabbed hard on the library cart handle, making it rattle a bit with the sudden movement. My breath hitched with the sudden intrusion, and Kyley chuckled in satisfaction, his face lowering to my neck. The pleasurable pain of the bites he started to place on the sensitive skin came in tandem with his middle finger also plunging inside of me, all the way to the last knuckle.

Kyley-B wasted no time before curling his fingers in a come hither motion, pumping them in and out with a type of strength that made my whole body shake with each push inward. My hips moved towards his palm in sync with his ministrations, subconsciously trying to get extra friction on my clit. 

Despite never having seen me before, it was like he had a complete map of my body in his mind. He knew exactly what to do at all times to make me feel good, and handled my body with a type of care that I would never expect from the likes of him. My worries about his nature or his intentions were gone with the wind; he could be whoever he wanted, as long as he’d continue laying his passion on all the neglected erotic parts of both my body and spirit. Soon my nails started making scraping noises against the metal of the handle, like I wasn’t just holding on to it, but also to the last little bit of my sanity before Kyley-B would kick me right into the deepest ends of pleasure.

Then suddenly, it stopped. His fingers withdrew from me and he took them to his mouth, cleaning my whole arousal out of those digits as he sucked on them. Not saying a word, he then used both of his hands to hike up my skirt completely so that it would be bunched up on my waist, immediately pressing his body against me again while his fingers drifted to the side of my panties. With a fierce tug that would’ve made me lose balance if not for his presence, he tore the damp fabric clean off, dropping it on the floor near our feet.

“What… Why did you…” I stuttered a bit as I looked up at him with my mouth hanging slightly open, looking every bit needy and desperate for him, absolutely pathetic in my yearning for the touch of that man.

His response came as a series of quick yet sensual kisses, the last one prolonged by the soft pulling of my bottom lip between his teeth. “Think we’re both gonna like it a lot more if you cum on my cock, baby,” he cooed, “And ya want it too, right? Don’t think you’d want to come all the way here just to get two fingers in.”

My head moved in a meek nod. My brain would’ve normally scolded me for agreeing so easily to words like these, so overtly sexually charged, but I couldn’t exactly lie to Kyley, either. I wanted him to fill me up. Taking in my agreement, he pulled back just a bit so he could make quick work of the belt and buttons in his jeans and pulled both them and his boxers slightly down, just enough for his cock to spring free. 

A lot of times, when people see feisty men with boisterous personalities, they like to say that those men are compensating for a lack of something. Kyley-B absolutely was not. He had the inches and the girth to back up every single aggressive display and explicit word that left his mouth. I pressed my thighs together, both in a gesture of fear for my poor pussy and also as a way to create some sort of pressure in the area that could calm me down until he would finally give it all to me.

My light squirming did not go unnoticed by his ever observant olive eyes. For all his violent behavior, he was still a really sharp individual. “You can take it,” he stated in a way that left no room for questioning, “I’ll make sure of it.”

Kyley took my lips back in his as his hands then moved from my waist to my ass, the unfamiliar sensation making me gasp against his mouth. He kneaded the soft flesh a bit, feeling it around. Then, without warning, both his hands delivered hard smacks to each side of my bottom, and I broke the kiss with a loud high-pitched yelp - the sounds almost echoed in the quiet library. He immediately started rubbing circles with his palms on the areas he slapped, as if trying to soothe them, contented groans rumbling in his chest. His next sentence came as an order. “Turn around. Need to feel this ass on me.”

I spun 180 degrees on my feet without a second thought and he pushed my back unceremoniously, making me bend over the library cart in front of me before shoving my head down towards it so that my back would be even lower and my ass would be in a more prominent position. My face landed on its side on one of the books that I was supposed to put back in place - Don Quixote. I had the feeling that by the end of my encounter with Kyley-B I too would be crazy enough to fight windmills.

I could only hear the noises his shoes made as he settled properly behind me, the hand he had used to shove me now placed at my back, putting slight pressure to keep me bent. He held his cock with the other one, giving a few light taps with it on my ass, and I just knew his gaze was burning into me as he watched the soft flesh jiggle a bit. When he positioned himself to start dragging the head across my slit, gathering up my already plentiful arousal and spreading it around even more, I whined and bucked back a little with my hips, the library cart under me rolling a bit as well. 

Immediately the hand that had been resting on my back moved to my ass and grabbed it fiercely. “Damn desperate for my cock, are ya, baby?” I could almost hear the smirk in his lips as he said those words, “Don’t worry, Imma give it to ya… And you ain’t even gonna need to thank me for it…”

Fortunately Kyley-B did not make me wait much longer after that. He was all about that instant gratification, and my submissive behaviour fed right into it. He traced my slit a few more times with the tip of his cock before pushing it fully inside of me in one swift motion, taking advantage of my wetness buildup. 

Another yelp from deep within my throat, this time accompanied by a deep grunt from Kyley-B’s. Both his hands grabbed my hips with such ferocity it felt like he was trying to get his fingers to break through my skin - but he’d have to settle for them just leaving a couple bruises. The stinging sensation deep in my walls as they stretched around his cock was like nothing I had ever felt before; worse than it felt when I lost my virginity, yet it was better, as in, actually good. I took a deep breath, hoping the air coming inside my lungs might help ease the burning somehow.

“Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” Kyley-B grunted behind me, his tone of voice faltering for a moment, becoming less brutish than usual - he was lost in the feeling of being inside me just as much as I was on the feeling of taking him. “Gonna end up ruining ya… If I’m not careful…”

He already had.

His grip steadied on my hips as he pulled away from me, before slamming all the way back in, giving me no time to calm down as he quickly settled into a steady pace, each thrust burying his cock to the hilt inside of my cunt. He was so big I could feel his tip hitting my cervix, constant jolts of pain coursing through my lower abdomen with each hit - yet I didn’t feel any urge to bring myself away from it or make it stop. It was the best pain I had ever felt in my life, which is a sentence I never thought I’d put together. 

Before I knew it I was letting out loud pleasure whines, my perception of the environment around me slowly being lost. Kyley still seemed to maintain his for a bit, though - to stifle my noises, he quickly shoved his index and middle finger inside of my mouth, almost all the way to the third knuckle. As if on cue, I started sucking on those digits and swirling my tongue around them like it was second nature.

“Fuck, girl,” he groaned with a husky voice, “If ya pussy wasn’t this fuckin’ good I’d be using my cock on this great tongue ya got instead.”

His other hand grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled it with reasonable strength, making me gasp and bringing my head up - my mouth opened wider and I could now taste the brass of his fake rings on my tongue as he pushed his fingers all the way inside, having the surprising care of positioning them in such a way that they wouldn’t make me gag, while I continued to work on them.

He didn’t keep my noises muffled like this for long. Soon he seemed to realize it was of no use and we were already loud anyway; so he let go of my hair and my face immediately fell forward, his fingers leaving my mouth with a wet noise and slight pain to me as his rings clumsily hit my teeth from the sudden movement. His hands slapped both sides of my ass again and I yelled with full force of my lungs - now that I was free to make noise, he seemed interested in testing my ability of it, and I could swear the squelching noises my pussy made with each of his thrusts became louder as he sped up a bit.

With each potent snap of his hips against my ass, my whole body would jerk forward and cause the library cart to hit the tall wooden bookshelf right in front of me, shaking the whole thing up and making it bang against the wall behind it. Heavy hardcover books rained from the shelves, hitting the parquet floor with loud thuds.

Completely immersed in the pleasure the Jersey man was giving me, I failed to notice the danger I was in, of a book striking my head and knocking me out cold. I only realized that situation when all of a sudden Kyley-B had the whole weight of his upper body against my back, his harsh breathing on my neck sending shivers down my spine while his arm moved at the speed of light to backhand a falling book out of its path towards our bodies, sending it flying a few feet away like it was nothing. He hissed between his teeth, likely from the pain of the smack, but didn’t voice any complaints besides that, his pounding against me not faltering for even a second.

I adored the new sensation. Though I was almost fully trapped against the library cart, him leaning on top of me like this was strangely comforting, seeing all of that oppressive strength being used for my protection. Kyley-B clearly took care of what was his, and at that moment, that’s exactly what I was.

Best as I could, I sneaked one of my arms over my shoulder, my hand clumsily grabbing a fistful of his gelled up hair. He grunted roughly against my neck, apparently not used to being touched like that - maybe it was usually the other way around - but making no move to stop my awkward attempt at a caress either. His thrusts slowed a bit as he stayed like this for a moment or two, before he straightened his posture back up with his chest away from my back and gave my ass another slap, picking up speed again - maybe that was his way of taking for himself the smallest bit of control over the situation I held for a bit. 

Not that I minded. Him taking charge was all that I wanted at that moment. Not a single useful thought graced my brain while he fucked me senseless, all of my neurons hyper-aware of how his cock felt when it pushed against the most sensitive spots inside of me and not much else. Everything was Kyley-B, the world around us irrelevant, merely a void environment that could absorb all of my moans and screams of pleasure, as well as the squelching and slapping noises of his thrusts, with no repercussion. Even the swear words he grunted every so often now sounded like music to me; because it came from a place of intense pleasure, which I was giving him, so he could curse as much as he wanted near me as long as he’d do it in that lascivious tone.

Kyley’s thrusts became even quicker and more erratic, as if he couldn’t bear to have a single inch of himself not buried inside of me for any amount of time. He bullied my walls and my cervix with wild abandon, and I felt myself tensing up under his chest, my toes curling against the hardwood floor as my body braced for the impact of the release that his cock was about to give to me. 

He noticed the physical aspects of my buildup and a hoarse chuckle cut through the sounds of his hips slapping against me. “Gonna cum for me now, are ya, babe?” He murmured huskily, giving the lightest of taps to my ass, an action that felt weirdly reassuring. “Told ya it was gonna be better with my cock… Go on, let me see ya…”

My eyes rolled almost to the back of my head and I let out a cry that made my whole throat quiver as the most intense orgasm of my life crashed on me like a tsunami, my spine arching and making my upper body press even more against the cart under me. While I whimpered and trembled through the ripples of pleasure in my system, Kyley-B grabbed my hair again, pulling my head back some more as he used the newfound reins to jackhammer into me with my cunt clamping fiercely against his cock, trying to make it a permanent attachment to my body - a very smart decision on its part, really.

Despite riding my climax out to the fullest, I did not get any time to catch my breath - Kyley-B’s attack on my walls had already started to cross the line into overstimulation, making me whimper from the continuing massage on the extra sensitive region, before he suddenly withdrew from me. Although I already had way too much everything considered, that action surprisingly made me legitimately angry for half a second - I missed him inside of me. His breathing shook and faltered while thick jets spilled over my ass and lower back, his seed warm against my skin.

As he came down from his high and his breathing became more steady, I heard him reach inside of his pocket again, then felt the slightly rough sensation of lace being rubbed against me - he was cleaning up his release with the very same panties he tore away. Seemed thorough about it, too, as he took his time and by the end of it I didn’t feel sticky anymore. Yet, the knowledge of what we did had painted my body forever, the warm sensation still very much psychologically present, even if I was physically ‘clean’.

I looked over my shoulder just in time to see him stuff the panties in his pocket. The normal confusion I’d exhibit if seeing such an act did not grace my features, either because I was too fucked out to care or because I actually liked it.

He tucked his softening cock back inside of his boxers and closed the buttons and belt on his jeans before leaning towards me again, this time to put his nose to the side of my neck, inhaling my scent sharply while his arms wrapped around my waist.

”Did so fucking well for me, baby. You were so damn good.” Kyley-B whispered against my skin, his voice once more taking that less rowdy tone I heard earlier. Hearing it again, in a full sentence this time, sent shivers down my spine - different shivers from the ones that had coursed through my body earlier. Like I could catch a glimpse of the man behind the fake tan. He made sure to leave one tiny nip at my skin before pressing a kiss right on top of that region - a surprisingly soft kiss, like he was now trying to be careful with me.

He stayed like this for a little more before straightening up again and letting go of my body, giving my ass one last playful slap, chuckling as he watched it jiggle. “You’re the real deal, Y/N,” the Jersey playboy voice was back at full force, “Let’s go out sometime. I’ll call you.”

Which was a weird thing to say, considering I hadn’t given him my number at all, but for some reason I just knew that was the least of his problems. He knew where I worked. He’d find a way, and I’d give him as much direction as I could for that.

As soon as I couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore, my knees gave in, and I fell right on them, letting the library cart hit the now much less packed bookcase a final time. My hands clung to the side of it with what little strength I had in my body, that still felt like it was made of jelly. I could’ve fallen asleep right then and there, the exhaustion from the unfamiliar ‘exercise’ getting to me. Dozens of books laid around me on the floor, waiting to be put back in their places, but I decided to just make that a problem for future me, instead choosing to let my muscles catch a break.

When I finally managed to pull myself together enough to return, alone, to the reception desk, I realized I was in deep shit. Every single set of eyes in the location turned to me, wide and horrified; apparently, the whole time I was with Kyley-B back there, my clients at the library were frozen in place listening to the whole thing. I tried to avoid my shame by looking elsewhere, but then my eyes rested on a decorative piece of mirrored glass at the wall; I could now see myself clearly. My hair was messed up beyond belief from all of Kyley-B’s pulling, my whole makeup was smudged - with special attention to the huge pink blur of lipstick around my very kiss-swollen lips -, my shirt was creased everywhere. Not to mention that now my underwear was hanging out in a New Jersey man’s pocket, leaving me totally commando. And I had a few more hours of my shift ahead of me.

It didn’t affect me as much as it should.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

Surprisingly enough, I did not get fired from my job after that. My guess was they knew they couldn’t find anyone else who could put up with the extra work that had nothing to do with my appointed position, not for the money I was paid. So I got to stay.

What did happen was the influx of people at the library augmented significantly. This did not mean a proportional increase in the number of books checked out, however - it just meant way too many people were suddenly interested in Latin Literature, and my workplace became a lot noisier.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[bisexualiteaa]

Getting interrupted 🤭

CW: smutty 18+! Suggestive themes, light mentions of/implied smut, getting caught, possible errors and possible OOC scenarios. Otherwise, enjoy! 🥰

John "Soap" MacTavish

- he was a sucker for someone in uniform, so it was no surprise that he would come and constantly visit you down at medical where you worked. It's how you both met and got together after all, so despite the pain and occasionally bad memories that came with it, it still held a place in his heart because you were there.

- he'd never admit it, but sometimes he would get himself hurt on purpose just to visit you, he always loved to see the smile on your face as you would shake your head and rest your hands on your hips before fixing him up perfectly, always having the cure to his every injury or ailment.

- sometimes these were the only moments where he'd get a chance alone with you, enjoying the way you'd always make a little time for him to talk and enjoy each others company for a little while afterwards.

- no one knew you guys were together, everyone knew he had a crush on you because, quite frankly, he wasn't very good at hiding it, but he didn't really want to either. But for the sake of your job, he didn't want to reveal anything should it get you in trouble.

- "you never stay out of trouble, do you?" You asked with a playful grin as you'd just finished stitching up a small gash on his arm. "If I stayed out a trouble, I'd never get the luxury t' see you" he replied with a flirty tone, making you chuckle. "Just be more careful please, I need you in one piece" you replied, kissing his cheek as you sat next to him, having just patched up his arm. "I will, don't worry your pretty head lass, I'll always come back t' you" he assured, making you smile and hum in appeasement before you leaned in, pulling him into a soft, loving kiss. His hand came to cup your cheek as you held his other one in your own, fingers intertwined as you shared in your moment together. When you two were alone together, the world finally felt at peace, no wars to think about, no stress weighing down on you, all you needed to think about was your Johnny.

- So it was no shock that your kiss took a turn to something a little deeper, a sigh leaving you as your free hand rested on his collarbone. "Careful bonnie, go on like tha' and I'll be walkin' outta here with a whole different problem" he said, making you giggle. "Wouldn't half mind fixing that either, too bad you don't know how to keep quiet" you quipped with a grin, making him laugh at your remark. "Cheeky bugger" he replied with a matching grin before pulling you in again, kissing you as if tomorrow you'd be gone.

- But sadly, even the best moments must come to an end, neither of you were expecting the way it had however.

- "Sorry to bother doc, got room to squeeze in a- woah!" Spoke Gaz as he pulled back the curtain, seeing your form loomed over the side of the exam bed, kissing his comrade. You gave a short gasp as you both jumped apart, blushing wildly after being caught red handed. "Shit, I'm SO so sorry!" You spoke, bumping into your cart in your panicked frenzy as you tried to back away and button your uniform back up as to not look suspicious, but it was already too late.

- "Sorry Gaz, appointment got prolonged. Doctors, am I right? Gotta poke around an' check everywhere for some reason" Johnny spoke, nervously rubbing the back of his neck with a slight blush but trying to joke his way out of things, as per usual. Gaz gave a chuckle. "Explains why you come down here so often. Here I thought you were just trying to get a good record built up for disability, didn't know you had a Dr. Feel Good situation goin' on" he teased with a grin. "I'm gonna get in so much trouble.." You muttered, holding your face in your hands out of embarrassment. "Relax doc, your secret's safe with me. I promise. It's about time you finally went for" Gaz assured you before offering a genuinely happy smile to Johnny. "I know all to well of the draw of the uniform myself" he added, looking towards one of the other doctors, her offering a giggle and flirty wave his way. "Well I'll be damned" Johnny spoke with a chuckle. "And looks like she's got an opening, so you two just earned yourself some more alone time" Gaz said, making you and Johnny both chuckle. "I owe ya one" Johnny spoke before Gaz walked away, turning back to you as you closed the curtain again, alotting you both some privacy for just a little bit longer.

König

- You were in his room, laying in bed together, enjoying the time alone after months of him being away.

- It started out innocent enough, just enjoying a movie together, but one innocent kiss turned to two, and when wandering hands found their way down your sides to your ass, playful giggles soon turned to quiet moans and it wasn't long before things turned just a little more heated.

- You were on top of him, straddling his lap as his kisses began littering down your neck, his large, rough hands at your hips moving you back and forth against him. A quiet moan and sigh fell from you, both of you doing your best to keep quiet as not to raise suspicions.

- "How I missed you, schatz" he told you, making you smile with drunken love in your eyes. "Missed you too, Kö" you replied sweetly, your lips now trailing down his neck to his bare chest in a way that he swore injected fire straight into his veins.

- You were topless as you sat there straddling him, indulging in one of those moments of kissing one another deeply, only stopping at the feel of each other smiling before resuming. Light, breathy giggles and quiet sighs of pleasure leaving you as you both were caught up in the heat of the moment.

- That was when you both heard the knock at the door, making you both jump. "Shit" you said quietly but in a panic. "Hide" he replied, getting up to put on a pair of pants, allowing you some time to scramble to grab your shirt and any trace you were here and hide in his bathroom, staying dead silent as you did.

- You heard the sound of him talking to Captain Price as you were hidden, relief washing over you once the door had finally closed and he walked away. You peaked back out from the bathroom, seeing König look at you as the look of panic finally fell from his face. "Close call" you spoke with a grin. "Way too close" he replied as you came back to him. "Ya know, if you just came over to my place, we wouldn't have to sneak around and worry about getting caught" you mused, making him chuckle as he leaned down. "Maybe I like the thrill a little bit" he admitted, making you giggle lightly before kissing him once more, your arms draped over his shoulders as you did.

- "Just keep it down in there" Price's voice spoke from the other side of his door, making you panic once more. "König! This is why we should be at my house!" You said, face red as a beet from fluster, and König couldnt help but grin at your embarrassment. Price gave a laugh as he walked away.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

- Everyone knew you were his, he made it very clear that he would break the neck of anyone who would dare try to have a piece of you, or even look in your direction with malintent.

- He didn't need PDA to show it either, when you both were out with his comrades, or out in public, a protective arm laid around your waist yes, but even when it didn't, all it took was one look from Simon for someone to deeply reconsider their intentions with you.

- So one night, when you were both coming out to his truck for a smoke from a night out drinking with friends, the liquid courage seeping through your veins, you decided to push his buttons a little.

- There he stood, leaned against his truck, having just finished taking drags off of his cigarette before putting it out with his foot. His balaclava was still pulled up to rest on the bridge of his nose, showing off the lower half of his face, so you took the chance.

- You smiled as he grinned when your fingers slid along his jaw and up under the balaclava just a little, keeping it up so that you could kiss him. The taste of smoke, tobacco, and whiskey mixed together in a taste that was just so *him.* You couldn't help the surge of butterflies that came through you as his hands rested on your hips, the way he kissed you always left your mind reeling as they were always so intimate, so shameless.

- "Just couldn't wait, could ya?" He asked, making you chuckle as you bit your lip, your cheeks heating up from the drinks buzzing in you as well as the heat that always burned in you anytime he kissed you. "You know what bourbon does to me, and you know what *you* do to me" you replied with a playful grin, making him chuckle once more as you said it, poking his chest to prove your point before dragging your finger down some. "I'm very aware" he replied.

- Your finger looped into his belt, giving a strong tug to pull him closer to you, your lips just centimetres apart now before you closed the distance once more. "You're playing a dangerous game, lovie" he spoke in a low tone, making your grin only stretch wider. "That so? Gonna put me in my place then?" You challenged bravely, making his eyes hold a different intensity. Hunger, a predatory one at that. "Get your ass in the truck. Now" he ordered.

- Needless to say, it was no shock to him that you both managed to find your way in the back seat of his truck, music playing just loud enough in the background to add to the atmosphere as your panting from the deep kiss filled the air in the car.

- You grinned far too devilishly as you rolled your hips in time to the beat of the song, enjoying your moment of power over him. But he was there to remind you that even if you were on top and straddling him, that did not, by any stretch of the imagination, mean you were in control. His hand came to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he tugged it back, making your head dip back as he did. You gave a sinful moan as he did, roughly thrusting his hips up into you. "Your misbehavin' has gotten a bit out of hand, love. Someone oughtta teach you some fuckin' manners" he damn near *growled* in response, making you whimper as his hips stilled completely. "Gonna be good f' me? Stop bein' a fuckin' brat?" He asked, making you nod your head yes vigorously, earning another yank on your hair and a powerful thrust up into you. "Answer properly" he ordered. "Yes sir, gonna be good for you, I promise!" you let out, his hand leaving your hair as he started his pace up again. "Then be a doll and take it" he spoke, making your eyes roll to the back of your head as he continued his brutal pace.

- Anyone on the outside wouldn't have known, the music, not too loud to be suspicious, but perfectly loud enough to cover your joint symphony of moans, pants, and grunts, paired with the sounds of skin against skin. So Soap being none the wiser, thought it'd be safe to go to Ghost's truck to tease you both for being gone for so long.

- Then a hand came to the foggy window, smearing enough of the condensation away to reveal the both of you in the back seat. What he wasn't anticipating was the sight of you on top of him, fully clothed thankfully, but it was clear what was going on. "Shit!" You exclaimed when you saw Soap's eyes widen before he looked away, knowing he'd be in deep shit for catching you both. Simon's eyes followed yours to the window, catching sight of the reason why you were hiding your face in your hands. A devious grin came to his lips, deciding to roll the window down some, not too much to show too much, but enough to send you into a panic. "Si! What the hell are you doing??" You asked, making the scot give a chuckle. "Was comin' t' check an' see if you two were still alive, but clearly you're takin' more than a smoke break" he replied. "Started off as one anyway.." You spoke with a nervous look, making him chuckle once again before turning around and walking back. "Try not to kill 'er" Soap spoke before walking back inside.

- You certainly learned your lesson that night, hiding your face that burned bright red as you left the back seat, Simon of course delighted in your torture as you both went back inside to sit back at the table, getting to take in all the knowing grins from his friends as they all teased you for the rest of the night. To Simon's standards of course, he'd never let anyone take it too far. ❤️

[discordantwritings]

Distractions (Benn Beckman x Reader)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, gn afab! Reader, minor talks of cuts and blood, Benn has a hair pulling kink you can’t convince me otherwise, PiV sex

WC: 3.5k

Summary: As the doctor for the Red Haired Pirates you know there’s only so much you can do to curb their bad habits. But maybe you can help your favorite patient, Benn Beckman, kick his smoking habit with a bit of distraction.

Notes: for the lovely @fanaticsnail who is correct, Benn needs more love

“You already know what I’m going to say.” You tap your pencil on your clipboard, looking up at the grey haired man on your examination table.

“Doc, don’t start this again.” Benn’s tone is only slightly annoyed as he looks back at you.

“All that smoking is going to kill you.”

As a doctor on a pirate ship your life was all uphill battles that you were not going to win. Telling pirates to be less risky, drink less, and as is the case with this particular first mate to smoke less- all of these were battles you know you were not going to win. But it sure doesn’t stop you from trying, determined to be the annoying thorn in their side to at least make them stop and think before doing something stupid.

“Being a pirate is going to kill me, not the smoking.” Despite his tone a smirk sits on his face, he’s familiar with this song and dance you two engage in at the end of every regular check-up.

“I’m just trying to make sure you die of plain old age, alright? You know I expect the most from you Beckman, you’re the only responsible one around here.” You swivel around in your chair, placing your clipboard on your desk before standing.

“I think you’re wrong there.” Benn stands up as well reaching into his pocket to pull out his carton of cigarettes.

“Don’t you dare- not in my office!” You playfully hit him on the arm and he laughs.

“See- you’re the responsible one.” He twirls the carton in his hand, movements you’ve seen him use to spin his guns.

You roll your eyes but you can’t muster up any actual annoyance. “Maybe I am. But you’re a close second.”

Benn moves towards the door out of your office but hovers before he opens it. After a few seconds he turns back to you.

“But if I wanted to cut down- not quit mind you- just curb it. What would you suggest I do?” It takes all your professionalism not to grin from ear to ear that you had finally broken him down.

“Well, since we don’t have any nicotine substitutes one of your best bets is developing new habits.”

“You’ll have to explain a little more for me Doc.”

“Well, smoking is a whole ritual, right? You have to cut out the ritual around it and the best way to do that is to from some new rituals and habits. It’ll be good to think about some good distractions for when you feel cravings.” You explain, happy to see that he is actually listening to you.

“That does all make sense.” He shoves the carton of cigarettes back into his pocket. “I’ll try out your advice, but no promises, okay?”

“Just you trying means a lot to me.” You say honestly.

“Alright, alright. See you later Doc.” He waves and leaves you to take your next patient.

It’s only two days before Benn is back in your office, hovering in your doorway right after sunset. When you really look at him you sigh. A rag is wrapped around his hand and red is seeping through the white fabric near his palm. He gives you an apologetic smile.

“Sorry for coming in right as you should be getting off for the day but-“ You are already right in front of him, delicately unwrapping the rag to assess the damage.

“Beckman what happened?” You tilt his hand to look at the deep gasp across his palm.

“Well, really it’s your fault.” He says as you guide him to sit before grabbing your supplies.

“My fault? Really?” Laying out your salves and antiseptics you shoot him a curiously look.

“I was trying to distract myself by sharpening up my daggers and, well…” He trails off but you can put two and two together.

“You’re not normally on the list of people I have to tell not to use weapons while they are of not sound mind.” Carefully you clean the wound, impressed with the way he doesn’t flinch as you do so.

“I didn’t think I was that out of it.”

“It’s your first day of cutting back.” You sigh as you get a clear view of the wound. “You’re really lucky this wasn’t any deeper. You still need stitches though.”

“Whatever you say Doc.”

Despite today’s events he was your best patient, never saying no when you tell him something needs attention. You thread up your needle and begin your work.

“Well, I guess pain is a distraction.” He jokes and if you were to look up you’d bet good money he was smirking.

“Don’t make this a habit Beckman. I can refuse to help you.”

“You would never. You’re too nice for your own good doll.” You have to bite the inside of your cheek to try and tamper your reaction to the pet name. It’s not often he uses them for you, almost always referring to you as “doc” or “doctor” but when he does it always makes your heart lurch into your throat.

It’s stupid, you know, having a crush on a pirate. Having a crush on someone you work with. But when he’s so kind and thoughtful and helpful and so damn handsome… well who could blame you?

“You really should let me teach you how to shoot one of these days.” He says after a few more moments of silence.

“You know my answer.”

“You really should know how to protect yourself.” There’s serious concern laced in his voice.

“I’m a doctor, I took an oath to do no harm.” You explain to him, like you have many times before.

“And you’re the only doctor working on a pirate ship who takes that oath seriously.”

You pull the last stitch tight before looking up at him. “I know but, the thing is I’ve never felt the need to protect myself on this ship. Sure I’ve felt in danger due to the sea but from other pirates?” You shrug. “I’ve never had any doubts you’d be there to protect me.”

There’s a few beats before you’ve realized what you’ve said.

“And Shanks and all the other crew.” You quickly add, darting your gaze away as you grab a bandage. He chuckles and you hope to whatever gods are out there you aren’t completely flushed.

“Well, can’t say I don’t like that answer.” He keeps his hand open as you wrap the bandage securely around his hand, wrapping it around a few more times for security.

“Now do your best to not break your stitches, alright?” You finally look up at him, matching his gaze.

“I’ll do my best.” He promises and you believe him. “But I’ll probably need a different distraction.”

“Yes you will.” You laugh. “Look I know it might be boring but I do need help sorting through the supplies I picked up last week when we were docked.”

“Oh, I see how it is.” His serious tone has you concerned for a second but you see that sly grin. “You’re just using me to do your dirty work.”

You gasp, mock offended. “You really think that low of me?”

“I would never think low of you. In fact, making me do your grunt work is very smart.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“No, seriously you do so much to help us all it’s only fair I help you.” His uninjured hand covers yours it’s in that moment you realize you never let go of his hand after bandaging it up. You freeze and feel your skin heating up somehow more than it already was.

“That’s- I mean- it’s my job you don’t owe me anything.” You don’t meet his gaze directly but don’t move your hand away either.

“It’s your job to help us if we get sick or injured in battle. It’s not your job to help us every time we get drunk and accidentally shoot or stab each other.”

“Very good point.”

He pats your hand before pulling both of his away and standing up. “Again, you’re too good. But I’ll be around tomorrow, alright doll?”

There was that damn pet name again and you fought the urge to melt into the floor. “Thank you Beckman.”

“Thank you Doc.”

It’s embarrassing how you count down the hours until he’s at your door again, knocking on the open door with his good hand. You’re already in the thick of organization, crates of bandages, medicines, and other supplies strewn about your office.

“Oh! Hi Beckman! C’mon in.” You stand up and begin gesturing around. “It’s a bit cluttered but trust me there’s a method to the madness.”

You go through and explain what needs to be done and Benn listens carefully, asking questions when he has them. The second you’re done he gets to work, following your orders perfectly. Well, that’s one of the many reasons why he’s an amazing first mate you suppose.

The two of you work together and have casual conversation for a few hours and the time flies by in his company. Before you know it you’re almost done and working side by side with Benn on the last few things.

“Did you redo your bandage today?” You ask as you get a good look at his hand.

“And miss the chance to have your capable hands do it?” He smiles as he hands you the final box of gauze you need to put away.

“Or I think you just forgot.”

“Maybe.” He admits and you get up to get fresh bandages.

“You’re lucky you already helped me with all this work or I might’ve handed you the bandages and sent you on your way.” You hop up on the exam table you had been using to sort supplies and take his hand, carefully unwrapping yesterday’s bandage.

“Didn’t we go over this yesterday sweetheart?” His smooth tone has your heart hammering in your chest.

Sweetheart. That was a new one.

“Yeah, yeah.” You try to play it off but you know you’re flushed. You busy yourself with replacing the bandage. “Anyways, how are you feeling? Did this help?”

“Hm? Oh the distraction thing.” He thinks it over a second, watching you bandage his wound. “Mostly.”

“Mostly? Still feeling the cravings?” You finish your work but selfishly still hold his hand in yours.

“Yeah. I mean working with you did the trick, don’t get me wrong but now that I think about leaving and going back out on deck…” He shrugs. “But I guess that’s just how it’ll go for a while.”

“It will. But I’m not kicking you out, you can stay here as long as you like.” You secretly hope he sticks around, his presence made your work faster and your heart lighter.

“You’re offering to keep distracting me?” There’s a tilt to his voice that makes your heart hammer in your chest.

“Ah- I mean-“ You kick yourself internally for being so easy to fluster. “If that helps.”

Benn chuckles. “Now you’re not thinking anything dirty are you?”

Well- none of those thoughts were at the forefront of your mind before that but now? You’re acutely aware of the fact the hand you’re holding is so close to your lap and how close his chest is to your knees.

“No?” Your attempt to lie was uniquely pathetic but it earns you another laugh.

“And if I was thinking something dirty, you wouldn’t think less of me would you doll?” He slowly stands up as he speaks, tall frame hovering over you.

“I would never.” Your voice comes out as a whisper as you stare up at him.

“You’re too good to me sweetheart.” The hand not in your lap is used to hold himself as he leans further over you, face closing in on yours. “But I gotta know this isn’t just a treatment plan.”

“No- Beckman-“

“Benn.” He corrects softly.

“Benn.” You repeat. “I want this. I want you.”

That’s all he needs before he closes the gap and kisses you. His lips are chapped but his kiss is soft and the hand in your lap moves to intertwine his finger with yours. His kisses you until you’re breathless, having to pull away to gasp for air. As you do he moves to your neck, pressing delicate kisses along the sensitive skin. Your free hand comes up and tangles in his long grey hair, anchoring yourself.

“Can I-“ You moan as he mouths against the curve of your jaw. “Confess something.”

“Anything.” He stops to look into your eyes.

“You look really hot when you smoke.”

There’s a pause where he process what you says before bursting into laughter, and you can’t help but follow suit.

“So that’s why you didn’t make me go cold turkey?” You feel his smile against your neck.

“I can be a little selfish.” His body is still a little too far away so you push your hips forward, able to just meet his. Benn groans against your neck as you feel his clothed length press against you.

“Doc, be as selfish as you want.” He adjusts his stance so he no longer has to lean on his hand and uses the now free arm to pull you flush with him. You automatically wrap your legs around his hips, moaning at the friction.

“Then can I selfishly ask for you to take your shirt off?”

“Of course.” He places one more quick kiss on your lips before pulling away and taking off his shirt. You can’t help but admire his frame- broad shoulders filtering down into a narrow waist.

“Don’t go giving me an ego now sweetheart, I’ll be as bad as our captain.” His fingers play at the hem of your shirt before pushing under, calloused finger tips splaying over your stomach.

“You could never.” You press up against his touch, needy. “C’mon Benn.”

His hands slide up and push your shirt up over your head and the second the fabric is past your face he’s kissing you again, deeper than before. Your legs grip tighter around his waist, chasing any friction you can get. His hands now push against the waistband of your pants and he breaks the kiss to whisper in your ear.

“Let up a second doll.” You obey without a second thought, unhooking your legs so he can yank your pants and underwear off, stepping away so he can fully snuck them off your legs.

Long fingers hold your thighs open as he hovers back for a second, getting a good look at your soaked core. Embarrassed you go to shut your legs but you’re not match for Benn’s strength.

“Don’t hide yourself from me.” He finally moves back in, slotting his hips against yours as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. There’s a hunger to his kisses now as you press your hips up and grind against him, moaning into his mouth.

You feel those long fingers dip down between your bodies and you let up on your grinding, inviting him in. Two fingers press into you and you break away from his kiss to throw you head back in a moan. His mouth moves to your neck as his fingers take you apart, curling in while his thumb gives you the pressure you need on your clit.

“Fuck- Benn-“ You hand comes up to grip in his hair and as he hits that spot inside you you pull on his hair.

His fingers falter for a second as he groans into your neck and you smile knowingly. “You like that?”

“Don’t tease me doll.” He redoubles his efforts, a third finger sliding in that makes you see stars.

You can only hold onto him while he takes you apart with just one hand, your moans filling the air as you get closer and closer to your peak. You slap his shoulder as you feel yourself on that edge, warning him.

“Hm? Don’t worry I can feel how close you are sweetheart, it’s alright I want you to cum all over my fingers. Can you do that for me?” His low voice is right in your ear and is all you need to be pushed right over the edge.

“It’s alright, that’s it.” Benn speaks to you softly as he slowly pulls his fingers out and you whine at the loss.

You watch as his holds his fingers up and you can see them covered in your slick. You’re about to be embarrassed and turn your gaze away but then his tongue darts out and licks and sucks away all of your cum. It’s hypnotizing the way he actually relishes in your taste and you feel a whole new wave of need wash over you.

“Benn- I need you in me now.” You pull his hair tight and he chuckles.

“Who am I to say no?” His hands quickly work at his pants, pulling them down just enough to release his cock, springing up to lay at your folds.

You can’t see his dick from this angle but you can feel it- long and veiny as Benn grinds between your folds. You moan as he ruts up against your clit but you’ve had enough teasing.

“Inside- please Benn.” You whine and he presses a surprisingly soft kiss to your cheek.

He guides his tip to your entrance and he easily slides in after all the work he did moments before. The two of you groan in unison as he slowly pushes in, careful not to hurt you. He stills when he’s full sheathed in you, his head resting on your shoulders as he pants.

“Sorry- fuck doll you just feel so good- need a second.” You feel him throbbing inside you and you run your hands through his hair gently, giving him the time.

“Take your time baby. Love feeling so full.” He seems to reach and fill every last inch of you and you soak up the feeling as he gathers himself.

“Gonna start moving.” He warns you just before he slowly moves out, the drag making your toes curl.

He’s slow and steady and you can feel every inch of him moving in and out of you. One of his hands is holding him steady against the table while the other is on your hip, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the skin there.

“You feel so good sweetheart- so warm and tight around me- knew you’d feel good doll.” He whispers loving praises into your ear as he thrusts and you grip the base of his ponytail to anchor yourself.

It’s not long before his pace picks up and you lock your legs around his waist as his thrusts get rougher and deeper. Your moans and the sound of his hips meeting yours fill your office, the lewdness of it all making your head spin.

“Fuck- I can feel you gripping me doll- you close? Keep- fuck- keep sounding like that I’m not gonna last long.” The hand on your hip moves and one of those damn fingers finds your clit again. You yank on his hair and grin at the way his pace stutters when you do so. “Just like that doll- please-“

You can’t deny him- not when he’s making you feel this good. You pull on his hair as your other hand grips onto his shoulder for dear life. Praise spills out of Benn’s mouth as he thrusts into you and works your clit and there’s nothing you can do but take what you’re being given. It’s not long before you feel your orgasm building up, vision blurring at the edges as you throw your head back.

“You’re almost there aren’t you sweetheart? Need to feel you cum around me- fuck- please doll.” He sounds so needy and at his demanding you’re pushed over the edge again, cumming around his cock.

“Shit-“ Benn spits out as he quickly pulls out of you and right as he does so you feel his warm cum splatter onto your hips and stomach.

The two of you catch your breath, still holding each other closely as you both figure out how to speak full sentences again. Benn’s the first to regain functions, pressing a kiss to your forehead before untangling himself from you. He walks away but you see him go over to your sink and wet a wash cloth, coming back over and cleaning you up. You hum in appreciation, kissing whatever skin of his you have access to as he works.

“So Doc, if I ever need a distraction…” His hands hold your hips as he looks down at you with a smile.

“Then you can come find me.” There’s a slight pause before you add on- “Preferably in a bed next time.”

The two of you laugh and you’ve never been so happy with a course of treatment.

[anjelicawrites]

Scrapes at the borders of your life

“The giraffe has its heart far away from its thoughts. It has fallen in love yesterday and doesn’t know it yet.”

― Stefano Benni, Ballate

Paring: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x trauma surgeon!reader

Synopsis: Simon has fallen for the trauma surgeon attached to the 141 and believes he has no chances with them, resigning himself in the role of friend and guarding devil, until the truth comes out.

Warnings: angst, stalking (Simon doesn't mean to), medical talk, surgery talk, reference to depression meds, reference to weapons, reference to Simon’s abuse as a child, reference to violence, talk of scars, insecurity, someone gets slapped (reader but not from Simon), someone gets headbutted (not reader, not Simon), Johnny tries to be a wingman, Simon simps a lot, Simon’s fear of not managing a full intercourse, Simon's hit and miss libido, premature ejaculation, kissing, oral (f receiving), fail sex, good sex, P in V sex (protected and unprotected), fingering, overstimulation, cuddling.

A/N: reader is AFAB, they/them pronouns used when needed. They're referred as "ma'am" a couple of times.

Word count: 10.293

You check your phone, you’re not late but you need to be out of the locker room in ten minutes, if you want to arrive on time for your date, the one you don’t really want to go to.

You’re still rummaging through your bag as you exit the lockers, when you hear Soap’s Scottish accent and Ghost’s quiet hum of answer: those two are like black and white, yet are joined at the hip like twins.

NSFW and 18+ only please!

The locker room of the male military personnel has recently been moved next to the one used by the civilians working on base, something that most of the men had made crude jokes about; thankfully the task force you’re attached to, the 141, abstained from any remarks. You didn’t know that Simon had rained his irritation on the men who had the gall to repeat the jokes to his face, in the form of exhausting training and fatigue duties, during the next few days, it was something he kept for himself, the same way he did all his thoughts about you.

“So, Johnny, what do you think?

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, doc! Aren’t they not, Lt.?”

The behemoth of a man glances at you, without saying a word.

“If the guy doesn’t beg for a second date, he’s an idiot, doc!”

“That’s not what I need to happen.” You pout. “Mother is hellbent in finding me a partner, I have told her this is the last time I’m going out with someone. I need this date to go bad, so she will stop pestering me when I tell her that I’d rather die alone with forty cats, than with someone I’m not truly interested in.”

“Do you have everything with you?”

You stare at Simon’s masked face, his brown eyes unreadable.

“Simon, really…”

“Do you have it?”

He’s not standing in front of you, blocking your path, but he’s trying to pin you with his stare.

“You’re insufferable!” You rummage in your bag. “See? Pepper spray, teaser and the knife!”

“That’s enough stuff to make any bloke run for his life.” Soap says, eyeing the array of weapons.

“I hope so! This chap is the son of someone mum knows. I have to make sure he runs for the hills the next time he hears my name!”

You walk towards the door, blind to Soap’s grinning, and to the way Simon’s hands have curled into fists.

“See you next week, boys!”

“What?”

You turn around and look at the Scot.

“I’m on annual leave. Try not to go save the word when I am not here to patch you four up, OK?”

The door closes behind you, cutting Soap’s laughter.

“What do you say, Lt.?” He asks, showing him the pictures of what appears to be a Tuscan villa. “You, the doc, and a spring wedding?”

“Fuck you, Johnny.”

Simon keeps telling himself he isn’t truly stalking you. He doesn’t have a tracking device installed in your car, or your phone, because that would be creepy, but he’s well aware of the statistics, how high the numbers are for assaults or, worse, rape and murder, or how those figures sky rocket when it comes to dating.

Simon knows you’re bright, brighter than most, but that doesn’t protect you if one asshole decides he doesn’t like your smart mouth, and bleeding Nora you have opinions and you’re not afraid to voice them! He still remembers the first time he’s met you.

You had emerged from the OR after a five hours long emergency surgery on Gaz. You were still wearing your scrubs and one of the colorful caps you use when you’re operating (it was the pink one with the dogs, Simon would gift you one with skulls and bones after the first routine checkup you did on him).

None of them had ever seen you, you had started at the base while the 141 was deployed; when the pararescue had entrusted Gaz to Dr. Rutherford, you were just one of the medics running to the OR, you were but a scrub, a body among many others, listening to the quick handover and shouting orders as the gurney was speeding down the pale green walls of the military hospital.

“What?”

You had looked at the three of them with weary eyes and furrowed brows, surprised that the soldiers had encircled you and were staring expectantly.

The man you’ll learn to know as Captain Price had asked you about Gaz’s prognosis, the other men crowding around you.

“Hasn’t Dr. Rutherford talked to you?”

“No, ma’am.”

He had sounded tired, he looked like he had been through hell and back. Those three men hadn’t probably hit the showers yet, too worried for their friend.

“Oh bleeding hell!” You had burst out, the peak of adrenaline that had carried you through out the surgery having abated, leaving you sluggish. “OK, gather around children, mother goose is gonna tell you everything.”

You had marched to the closest row of chairs and climbed on top of one: those men were so tall and buff you felt like you couldn’t breathe, nor be heard with them standing around you.

“We’re positive he’s going to be fine.” You had smiled at the collective sigh of relief. “He’s in the recovery room, the nurses there are checking on his vitals, before he gets transferred to the ICU. He’s going to be intubated and sedated for a couple of days, to help his body deal with the pain. His wounds were pretty gnarly, and his appendix was ready to burst. Did he tell any of you if he felt abdominal pain, or nauseous?”

There was a collective shake of heads and surprised stares, even the eyes of the one with the skull mask had widened.

“All things considered, it would have been worse if the appendix had actually burst while you were out. That would have been another bag of cats to handle.”

You had elected not to say anything about the way the small organ had almost exploded as soon as you had gently poked it, or that the sergeant would have had high risks of dying of peritonitis out in the field.

“I’ll tell the nurses to give you all a shout when the sergeant is transferred. You can sit with him outside his room, if you want.”

You had expected them to visit their friend, not to find them sitting on the uncomfortably plastic chairs, still wearing their whole gear, when you had popped by the ICU.

“Doc?”

It was the one you’ll learn to know as Soap that had stared at you, one eye swollen and in dire need of ice: another battle for another day, you had mused.

“I’m not in the habit of abandoning my patients after surgery.”

You had marched to the two chairs right in front of the window into Gaz’s room, and kicked Ghost’s foot out of the way, he was manspreading so much he was occupying two seats (honest to God! Why men need to always do that?). At the time you weren’t aware of his reputation, and even if you were, you wouldn’t have cared, too tired and angry.

“You junk wouldn’t scare death away, soldier.” You had sat next to him. “And we’re not going to open another cycle on my watch tonight.”

You had pulled out your headphones and started blasting music to keep yourself awake, ignoring the surprised stares of the men.

Next to you Ghost was staring at you, wondering if you had a death wish, or if you believed that looking at the little numbers on Gaz’s monitor, as if they owed you money, was the right way to fight death. You were listening to your music with a volume so high he could hear it himself: pop songs from the early 2000s: would that be enough to scare death away, he had wondered.

None of you knew how much time had passed, the minutes bleeding into hours, weariness setting in your bones, the music not helping fight the siren’s song of sleep: you were so tired, the azure number of Gaz’s oxygen saturation, and the constant curves on the monitor were truly hypnotizing you, your eyes were growing heavy and unfocused.

You head had snapped to the right side as soon as you had seen Dr. Rutherford walking down the corridor.

“I’ll be back in a moment.”

You had popped your pink headphones on the uncomfortable chair, the men around you not clocking on the clacking sound of plastic on plastic, but the angry way you were marching towards your colleague, your hands closed in twin fists.

The conversation was carried out in hushed tones, Dr. Rutherford was standing still, his mouth a thin, white line of anger, and you were constantly in his space, a snarl on your face as you growled your words at him.

It was well known that Dr. Rutherford wasn’t liked and that he had the reputation of someone who would pull his rank to cover up his bullying, and his mistakes. He was feared, having managed to ruin other physicians’ careers over the years.

In retrospect Simon had realized this was the moment when he had started to notice you: when he was wondering about your lack of self preservation. To tell the truth, it was what you did seconds after that stole his heart, unbeknownst to him, when Dr. Rutherford had slapped you in the face.

Time could have stopped, for all you knew. You couldn’t hear the surprised shouts of the nurses, nor the scuffing of the men’s boots hitting the ground, only the roar of blood in your ears and the knot of rage exploding in your belly. Seconds, only seconds had passed when your body had decided to act on its own, your forehead crashing on the older man’s nose, Captain John Price’s burly body between yours and Rutherford’s a moment too late.

“Oh crap! I think I have broken my nose. Oh shit!”

You were too busy tenderly touching your face to mind the chaos around you.

“I’ll have you in front of the court martial!” Rutherford had screamed at you.

“I’m a civilian, you buffoon! Your loser grades mean nothing to me!”

Through the pain you had felt a bulky arm curl around your middle to stop you from attacking the other surgeon.

“That’s enough, doc.” The low thunder of Ghost’s voice had rumbled against your back. “Stand down.”

Your vision was blurry, the soldiers tasked with security were tackling Dr. Rutherford, with the help of Soap: the older man was still trying to get to you, he was hurling insults, his voice booming in the crowded corridor.

“I’m not done with you! Did you hear me well? You’ll be fired! You’ll never work in this country ever again!”

“The one who’s never going to work in this country for the rest of his life is you, Rutherford.”

Amidst the chaos, Price was calm, furious but calm, his voice was cutting through Rutherford’s threats and the security men’s shouts.

“I am a major, captain! I can have you transferred in an hour!”

“You can try, major. Hitting a civilian, in front of witnesses?”

“Leaving the OR mid surgery to do God knows what, since I had to talk to these gentlemen about their friend.” You had snarled, the arm around your middle had tensed again. “You manage to fire me? I’ll go back working with Doctors without Borders, but I’ll make sure you’ll lose your license, Rutherford.”

When Ghost’s arm had released you, you had let yourself slide against the wall, after Rutherford had been carried away, your legs having finally given up supporting you. You had needed a minute before letting the nurses do a check up.

“Are you OK over there, doc?”

It had been Soap asking.

“I have been through worse. Jesus Christ what way to present myself!” The men had looked at you puzzled. “I’m the new trauma surgeon attached to the 141. Hi! Usually I am not this violent, or chaotic, I’m sorry you had to see all of that.”

You didn’t fault the men for not knowing: they had been out in the field for months, your predecessor had decided to step down after some serious family issues right after they have left base.

“You should all go home, I’m on call, I’m going to stay with the sergeant. And I’m going to see one lieutenant Riley on Monday? For the routine check up?”

The man with the over the top mask had sighed: lieutenant Riley found!

“If anything comes up, I will contact you all, it’s a promise.”

Simon hates when he has to tail you so close to the city center, there are too many people around and his baklava would stir up too much curiosity, the surgical mask on his face, his baseball cap under the black hood of his hoodie don’t offer enough cover for his face, he feels exposed, even though he’s hiding in the shadows of an alley where he can keep an eye on you.

Your date has picked a table at the window; Simon hates that the prick thinks he can put you on display like that. If he were a different man, he’d bring you to somewhere cozier, smaller, and he wouldn’t show you around like a prize he’s won.

He knows you’re hating every minute you have to spend with the anonymous man who’s boring you with whatever topic he’s prattling about, Simon sees it in the way you are looking outside, or in how many times you grab your phone; from this distance he can’t see your eyes, yet he knows they hold that distant look he’s seen too many times when you have to deal with paperwork. He wonders how long before one of your friends will call you to save you from this dreadful date, or if you’ll suffer through it to make your mother happy; if his circumstances had been different, he wouldn’t bore you to death, you wouldn’t have to use help to finish this date earlier. But Simon knows you’re way out of his league, too much of everything he has never had the chance to be, to ever hope to be. He can only be your patient and, something akin to a friend.

He had knocked at the door of your office on the dot, hating that he had to go through this bullshit check up, but preferring to be done with it as fast as possible.

He had expected the usual flurry of nurses coming and going, making the experience ten times more unpleasant; you were alone, instead. Your cheek was still swollen from the slap and you were sporting a bump on your forehead, right where you had headbutted that prick Rutherford; he half expected you to wear a colorful T-shirt, like the one you wore after Gaz’s surgery: obnoxious pink, the Barbie inspired font composing the phrase ‘Bitch, please’, which should have told him already everything he needed to know about you.

He was almost disappointed by the white button down shirt and black trousers.

He knew he was trying to distract himself from the knot of anxiety churning his stomach: how he hated to be here!

“Lieutenant.” You had looked up at him with the more open expression you could muster. “I will need you to remove your baklava. I have to examine your face.”

“Negative, ma’am.”

He couldn’t let you look at himself and, based on his records, you understood why.

You had tried to transmit him calmness by relaxing your body as much as possible: face open to his scrutiny and slightly pulled to the side to show your neck, your hands palms up.

“Lieutenant. I know this is unpleasant and that I am a stranger to you, but I can’t sign off the paperwork, if you don’t allow me to do my job. I can’t let you out in the field.”

You knew he was observing you, those brown eyes scanning you like he would an enemy, and you let him, you were in no hurry and this man deserved to make up his mind.

The way you had addressed him, the respect you had shown him, had convinced him to unmask himself: you weren’t doing this with ill intent, the matter of fact way you had used, as if you were telling him a known fact ‘Water is wet’, ‘ The sky is blue’, ‘If I can’t do my job, you wouldn’t be able to do yours’ had convinced him: you were one of the few people who weren’t curious about his face. He has encountered too many people who wouldn’t take a no for an answer, who didn’t care about why he wished the mask was his face, instead of seeing his father’s face staring back at him in every mirror, they just wanted to solve the mystery. You were doing your job, with all the sharps edges that it entailed, just like he did his, and that was something he had to respect.

You had been as fast and clinical as possible, the scars didn’t horrify you; based on his paperwork, you could list off all of his injuries as you saw them on his face and, later, his body. What you couldn’t find in his file, it had been easy to infer based on all the x-rays and MRIs, some old injuries impossible for a child to have without some external causes.

“You can put your baklava back on, lieutenant.”

Simon would never be able to put into words how grateful he was that you had kept your examination of his naked face as fast as possible, and that you didn’t force him through the hell that was small talk for the whole ordeal. If you had noticed the way he was staring at you, you didn’t say a single thing, something he was also grateful for, it had helped him bearing with the whole process, than anything else ever did.

On Friday a small packet and a steaming mug of tea were waiting for you on your desk. Carefully folded in the bright paper, an OR cap, black with neon skulls and bones design. On a whim you had told the nurse working with you to hold the fort for a minute, you had forgotten you had to run a little errand.

Said errand was standing in the field, covered in head to toe in black, busy overseeing what you believed was some sort of drill with the younger recruits.

“Thank you for the cap, you didn’t have to, lieutenant.” You couldn’t hide the smile in your voice, you didn’t want to. “How did you manage to discover how I love to take my tea?”

Simon was standing next to you, massive arms crossed on his solid chest, his face slightly turned towards you.

“If I were to tell you, doc, then I would have to kill you.”

Someone else would have been petrified by his words and the deadpan expression in his eyes, you had simply chuckled and had taken a sip from the mug, your personal mug, the one you had brought to use in the kitchen for the medical staff.

“We can’t have that, can we? Now I have to discover how you prefer your tea.”

“Do you like challenges, doc?”

He had turned to look at you and you had fancied you could see amusement in the rich brown of his eyes.

“I live for those, lieutenant.” You had taken a couple of steps towards the medical buildings. “Have a nice day!”

You were already halfway through, when Soap had approached Simon.

“Spring wedding, Lt.?”

“I need a sparring partner, and you just volunteered.”

You were always catching his attention without doing so. You were always at the corner of his eyes, busy working, or chatting with the civilian personnel at the base. He’d be running drills with the new recruits and he’d know you were walking somewhere nearby, he’d be at the canteen and you’d be either leaving the premises, or entering them. You’d pop by the military rec room because “You boys get the better tasting tea!” and he’d be snickering to himself in the shadows.

Unconsciously, he had started using the route passing by your office, to go to his (that he had to enter the medical building and then exiting it was something he actively didn’t want to think about), his eyes taking quick peaks at you through the window, whenever you kept the blinds open; you’d be slaving by your desk, elbow deep in paperwork, brows furrowed in concentration, or typing away at your PC. He’s seen you, during night shift, either working or reading with your legs propped up the desk, munching on something sweet, trying to keep yourself awake, or asleep on your couch, curled under a thick blanket; he had felt something warm unfurl in his chest, you looked so small and defenseless he felt the strange urge to stop and keep guarding your door until you’d wake up.

It had been you who had watched over him after a gnarly injury. He had woken up in a hospital bed, oxygen mask on his face, drips in his arm and too many surgical drains poking him. He was still high on the anesthetic and pain killers, his eyes barely focusing on your face that he had thought he was hallucinating you.

“How are you feeling, lieutenant?”

He had needed a moment to speak, his mouth felt like cement.

“Thirsty.” He had managed to say, ashamed that you were seeing him so weak.

“We’re giving you fluids but you’re not clear for food or water, yet. Squeeze my hand if you understand.”

Your small fingers had wounded around his coarse palm, their dainty touch had grounded him: you were real.

“I managed to remove the bullets from your gut. You have a lovely spleen and gall-bladder.”

Even high as a kite, in that precise moment, Simon’s brain had catch up with his heart and had realized he was in love with you, irrevocably, and that he had zero chances with you.

It wasn’t because you were a genius and he was an idiot, Simon knew well that he had the brains to match his ruthlessness, the issue laid in the fact that you two had less to nothing in common. He had seen you read thick tomes he has never heard of and talk with Gaz about movies he didn’t know ever existed; when he had checked any of the titles out he had realized how wildly your tastes forked: what he liked, you would hate, what you loved, made him fall asleep in ten minutes, like that subtitled movie he had tried to watch during leave, he had conked out five minutes in, and awoke when the end credits were rolling.

In his head he could see how a movie date would end up: he asleep and you wondering why he had asked you to come with him to the movie theater. What did he have to say to you that would interest you in his ugly mug? He was a highly trained killer whose hands were dripping blood, he came with a baggage that would put you in danger, what good could he add to your life? Yet, he was attracted to you like a moth to a flame. Even if he wanted, he wouldn’t be able to stop looking for you at the base, or shadow you when you went home.

It wasn’t a matter of stalking you, Simon fully knew where he stood, and that the only thing he could do for you, was keeping you safe; he would hide in the shadows and follow you home, leaving only when he had seen you safe in the quiet of your apartment. He had gifted you weapons, his heart beating a tad too fast when you didn’t run for the hills when he had given you the knife for your birthday, then the pepper spray and then the teaser. He had scared away a persistent date, a guy who simply didn’t want to understand that you weren’t interested: being your guardian devil was all he could offer you.

Soap didn’t help. He kept trying to push him towards you, trying to make sure his lieutenant was alone with you. One night shift he had gone as far as buying takeout, gave it to Simon when you were passing by with a cheeky “You must be famished doc!” and left Simon standing like a log with too many bags in his hands (he was going to use Johnny for target practice, if he ever survived this ordeal). You had stared at him with a smile, so lovely on your face, that he had wanted to bolt, food and all: you scared him in a way no promise of violence ever could. “You shouldn’t have, Simon!” and he had found himself sitting awkwardly on the too small couch in your office, all the plastic dishes neatly organized on the short table in front of him; you had removed your shoes and were sitting on the armrest, a container and a fork in your hand. Of course you were wearing ridiculous eraser yellow socks with tiny bunnies sketched on the cotton.

“Are you hungry, Simon?”

The way you pronounced his name! The way your voice modulated each and every syllable sent a shiver down his spine.

“Yes.” He had lied, his stomach was a knot.

He had been through hell, he knew you could tell by the scars littering his body. He has had too many close brushes with death than what he cared to count, yet he was petrified by your vicinity, by the fact that he had never been ‘Ghost’ to you, you had progressed from ‘Lieutenant’ to ‘Simon’ effortlessly, that you seemed to be able to read him in ways no one ever could. Were you be able to tell that the silence clothing you two was too deafening to him, the man who was the Reaper for his enemies?

What was he supposed to talk about with you? Why couldn’t he find some inane topic that would make you smile? Even the youngest recruit would be able to simply chat with you, why couldn’t he?

“What’s a cycle?” He had blurted out

“What?” You had started at him, quizzically, mouth around a forkful of food.

Yes, his mind provided, way to pass off as an idiot. He couldn’t possible stay silent, he had to press on even though he could only taste bile, not the food he was trying to chew.

“With Gaz. You said you didn’t want to open another cycle.”

“Oh, that!” You had put the fork in the empty container and stared at him. “It’s one of our superstitions.”

You had gently put the container on the table and grabbed your Coke.

“We actually have many, us who work in hospital, that is. It’s all nonsensical, no actual basis but the mind’s strife to put order in the chaos of life.” You had giggled, staring at him. “Don’t make that face!”

Simon was positive he wasn’t making any face whatsoever, it was well known he was a stone and what could you see? He had lifted his mask over his nose to eat, you couldn’t observe a single thing!

“You have very expressive eyes. And I’m going to tell you, after the shift is over, I’m as superstitious as they come!”

You did tell him, when the sun was grazing the horizon and he was having a smoke, dreading that he had to go home, if his sparse apartment could have been called that.

You were standing next to him, your own cigarette between your fingers, a colorful T-shirt half hidden under your hoodie and leather jacket. He had come to realize you only wore your more professional clothes during the day; when you had to work nights, you preferred more casual stuff, that made you look younger than your years. He hated that he could notice that, and that this information made his black heart swell a little.

“There are a handful of superstitions any hospital worker will tell you are true. The first one, the golden rule, is that you never say that a shift is quiet, not while you’re working, or literal hell will break loose. Second one is the cycle: death comes in clusters of three in a ward. It makes no sense and it’s truly pareidolia at its best, but it’s true: ask anyone working at the hospital on base and they’ll tell you that three people will die in a row, perhaps in a span of a few days, but it will happen, all in the same ward.”

You had puffed a cloud of smoke, staring at the sky.

“The others?” He had heard himself ask.

“Oh, the new moon.” You had smiled at him. “Pregnant people tend to give birth more during that time span. It’s utter and complete crap, on a scientific level, but it’s all true. Also, when you’re walking a deserted ward at night and you hear your name being called? No you don’t. You keep walking and ignore the ghosts.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“It is, but we believe in it religiously or the most of us do.”

You two had finished your cigarettes in silence, then you had bid him a good day of sleep; he had wondered if he should follow you home just to see you in your apartment, drinking your tea before trying to get some shut eye.

He had done this countless times, after particularly grueling missions, after you had gave all of them a clean bill of health, scolded Gaz (“Fallen off a chopper again? Is this the Darwin Awards sergeant?”) and Soap (“I swear to God MacTavish, you have fun at getting hit in the head!”) for their bumps and scrapes and asked him if he was sure he didn’t need anything to help him sleep.

He was well aware you had clearance to read his medical files, the list of prescriptions he was under, even the stuff the psychiatrist on base had given him to help him navigate his life; he didn’t want any of that, he only needed to see you safe home, to find the strength to go back to his own, so barren compared to yours.

He hadn’t gone to his hole immediately. He had followed you and hid to watch you brew your morning tea and eat a couple of biscuits. The sky had become overcast, yet to him you were still bathed in sunlight, your cozy apartment filled him with a longing he wasn’t capable to bear: would you let him sleep on your small couch? He wouldn’t do anything else but curl there under one of your quaint blankets (he had a preference for the crochet one, but he would have taken anything, really, a rescued dog would accept any scrap of love it was given), lulled to sleep by your presence.

What a loser, right?

It’s raining by the time your date ends.

Simon can’t hear what the douchebag is telling you, but he can’t help the satisfied smile on his face when he sees the guy leave with his tail between his legs: whatever that is, it didn’t work with you and never will.

He tails you from afar, your obnoxious umbrella dotted with pink hearts is the beacon that helps him spot you amidst all the people running from the rain; he doesn’t care that he’s drenched, he’s been through worse.

He stops and ducks in the alleyway he uses to keep an eye on your apartment, waiting for the right moment to hop on to the small balcony where all your plants live.

He doesn’t usually lets himself get so close to you, tonight he can’t help himself: he’s going to listen to you get ready for bed and then go, he’s become hungrier and hungrier for your presence, looking from afar it’s not cutting it anymore. And he’s not going to see you for a whole week, he needs in his bones to absorb whatever little scrapes of your life he possibly can, until you’re back to the base.

He listens as you walk around the apartment barefoot, your clothes hitting the bathroom floor, the whisper of the clothes you wear at home, when you unfold it from its place on the dresser (once he had almost ogled you when you were changing clothes; he had managed to turn around before he could have seen more than he should have, yet the image of your bare back had hunted him for days), some inane documentary on the telly keeping you company as you remove your makeup. It’s all so familiar, so homely, a routine he knows by heart and that is never going to be his, and that relaxes him: if he were yours he would brush his teeth side by side with you, maybe poke at you with his elbow just to make you laugh, he’d carry you to bed bridal style and keep watch until you fall asleep all curled up in his arms. If he were yours, but he’s never going to belong to you.

“Simon?” Your voice comes from the French doors.

His training doesn’t make him jump in surprise, on the inside his heart is hammering like crazy against his ribs.

He stands still, he doesn’t move a single muscle as he hears you exit the warmth of your apartment to join him where the storm is raging.

You stand next to where he is, the two of you sheltered by the worse of the water by the balcony over yours. With the corner of your eyes you see how drenched he is and you have to fight the instinct to scold him from courting pneumonia.

“I have to admit it has taken me a little to notice what you were doing. I thought I was going mad but then I stumbled upon that guy who didn’t understand I wasn’t interested in him: he was petrified and had begged me not to tell ‘my big friend with the skull mask’ that I had met him by chance while queuing at Costa.”

You stare at his hood, still stubbornly covering his face.

You don’t try to uncover his head, you understand that he needs his space and this silence, broken by the rumbling of a thunder.

You’re not mad at him, puzzled yes, but not angry.

“Is it always going to be like this, Simon? You hiding where the borders of my life begin? What if I meet the right person, what then?”

Your words break the spell that keeps him rooted where he is, he scoffs and turns his head to stare at you; you see something dangle from his face, one of the straps of the surgical mask has broken and now he’s naked in front of you, the darkness of the night his only cover.

You’re so close to him he can make out the soft angles of your face, the warm light in your eyes: you should be screaming at him, call the cops on him, yet you’re staring not precisely at the mangled thing he calls his face. He’s the one who has been hiding in the shadows, yet you’re still giving him his space.

“Would you keep on doing this?” You ask.

You’re so close, closer than he’s ever let most of the people be, so close that he can smell your perfume and your face cream.

“What would you do if I told you to stop?”

“I would.”

Those words cut him like knives: it would kill him to stop hunting for the scraps you had, unintentionally, given him, but he would, for your happiness.

“What if I tell you to come inside?”

“You can’t ask me that.”

His voice trembles and he’s a child again, defenseless in the snares of his father.

“Why?”

You’re fully in his space now, you can feel his warmth and he yours. The cotton of your tracksuit drenched with the raindrops falling from his leather jacket.

“Answer me, Simon.”

Your eyes are still avoiding his face, you’re still granting him this sliver of respect when you shouldn’t.

“Talk to me Simon, please.”

You’re on your tip toes now and he can smell the mint of your toothpaste.

He can’t speak, he can’t breathe.

His hands shoot out to grab your arms, his lips find yours in a kiss that’s almost a bite.

When your taste hits him, it’s like a floodgate is being ripped open by the violence of a flood.

Under his your lips part and your tongue seeks his, snuffing out his groans of pleasure, your arms escape his hold and grab his hair under his drenched hood and cap, your body pulls him forward, guiding him inside the sanctuary of your home.

You almost fall and his hands grab your hips to steady you, his tongue shyly plays with yours, as if he’s still insecure of what you’d do, he submits to you when you pull at his hair so that you have free access to his lax mouth: cigarettes and tea, that’s what you taste, his moans rumble against your chest, until you let go, desperate for air.

The darkness of your apartment is broken by the small light by the sofa, not bright enough to show you completely his face.

“Look at me.”

His gravelly voice makes you shiver, yet your eyes stubbornly land somewhere on his chest.

“Look at me.” He repeats, your name like a prayer on his lips.

You lift your gaze and he moves the two of you where you can see him: all of his scars barren to you, his eyes blazing with his own need.

You can feel his hands tremble on your arms, his teeth chatter and it’s not the cold from his drenched clothes.

“We don’t have to do anything, Simon, you know that.”

And by God you’re not lying. You’d be happy to lay on the couch and talk for the rest of the night, you don’t want him to give you something if he’s not ready.

One of his gloved hands finds your soft cheek and cups your face, his expression has softened, he’s so unguarded and scared now.

“I know.”

He’s not sure his body is up for the task, not with the medication he needs to take daily killing his libido most of the times, but that doesn’t really matter in his book, he doesn’t care if he can’t take pleasure from you, as long as he’s making you feel good.

He feels something warm in his guts stirring awake, but he’s not sure he’s going to manage to go on with it fully. Would you hate him for that?

“Simon?”

Your hand is so soft against the scarred skin of his cheek; he knows you use loads of hand cream to fight against the normal dryness that comes with having surgical gloves on every day, the soft scent hits his nostrils and his desire becomes more solid, it slithers from his belly to his cock, stirring it alive.

“Let me take care of you.”

He’ll live his life for you simply following those words: he’d shelter you from any storm, he’d kill for you, if only you asked. He’d go to hell for you, if that meant that you’d be safe and sound.

You see something shift in his eyes; there’s still insecurity there, but it’s fighting against another emotion, desire maybe?

Under another circumstances you’d tell him that you want to look after him as well, that this thing isn’t only about you, but you think that he needs this, to show you his devotion, if you hope to give him a safe space. Despite the blood on his hands, this man is a nurturer, who doesn’t know how to express himself.

“Yes.”

You’re not surprised that he knows the layout of your apartment, that he doesn’t need to turn on the lights to guide you where your bed is.

You kiss him again when you feel his fingers tremble as they hook the hem of your hoodie to lift it up your body, you murmur soft praises as he divests you and you’re standing naked in front of him.

“May I take your clothes off?”

You wouldn’t mind being the only one naked here, if that helped him feel safer; you two can discuss and explore his hard limits later, now you need to tread carefully.

“Keep the lights off?”

“Anything you need, Simon.”

Outside the storm rages, inside you keep asking him if he’s all right as you slowly peel his clothes off, until he’s barren his scarred body to your touch.

You know how he looks on the inside, what those scars left behind under layers of muscle and bones, you can probably recite all of his wounds alphabetically as you kiss them; he’s so beautiful to you, hard planes of muscles you want to caress and explore, dirty blond hairs on his chest you hope you’ll rub your face against, that thick happy trail guiding your eyes to his half hard cock; you want to caress all of him, make him feel good.

He stops you before you can follow the newest scar on his pectoral with the tip of your finger: you have stitched this one close, managed to pull together the mangled sides of the wound nicely.

“Go lay on the bed.” He tells you, his voice more secure.

He helps you with the ridiculous amount of pillows scattered on the bedding. Lovingly he chooses the ones he thinks will be the best to lift your hips up and to rest your head: he wants you comfortable, and happy with the way he’s treating you.

His eyes drink your lax body open for him. There’s a little light coming from the sky outside, enough for him to make out the soft curves of your body and the patch of hairs at your center. He likes a good bush, when he was younger and his libido not so skewed, he would get it going just because his partner wasn’t completely barren and now he feels his cock stir a little more.

“Like what you see?” You ask, arching your back to entice him.

“Yes.” His head goes up and down dumbly.

“Kiss me?”

He lays on you, his body solid on yours, his weight stealing your breath from you, his rough skin heaven against yours.

You let him take control of the kiss, his tongue less shy as it plays with yours, his moans fuller against your mouth: you have no idea how much he loves your taste.

He maps your body with his lips, in his head he takes notice of the way you keen and arch when he nibbles on your throat or sucks on your nipples. His tongue follows the fat drops of perspiration on your skin, his mouth leaves bruising kisses on your tummy when your hands wind up in his hair to push him to go faster: he’s going to savor you, commit you to his memory.

“Simon please!” You beg, but he’s not deterred. “Need… ah!”

He nibbles your trembling tights, his stubble will leave a rushes on the soft skin and a twisted part of him is proud that you will carry his mark around. His hips kick when your nails scratch his nape: please, yes, brand him as yours, even if you don’t want to keep him, leave the proof of you needing him, even if it is for one time.

You’re already wet when his fingers open your lower lips to his eyes, you’re not drenched yet and he hopes his ministration will get you there so that he can drown in your scent.

The first kiss on your clit is fleeting, shy almost, your body responds by kicking your hips up, needy for more contact and he can’t believe this is happening: he must be dead and landed in heaven, somehow.

“Need you, Simon.” You whimper under his scrutiny.

“I’m here, love.”

His voice is lower, gruff against your folds and you keen, the vibrations torture against your nerves.

Reverent he hoists your legs up his shoulders to open you up properly, his big hands splay on your tummy, your fingers finding his to anchor yourself.

He’s shy at first, exploring your folds with his tongue, playing with your clit slowly, mapping out your response and thank God he’s holding you down because you hips kick up immediately, as soon as his lips wound around your nub to suck softly, your legs clamping around his head and if he’s not dead he wishes you’d snap his neck while he’s eating you out: there’s no better death in his book.

You’re trashing under him, your body arching, feet trying to find purchase on the slick skin of his back, to move away, to gain advantage, you don’t know, your brain is fried, your body a knot of overstimulated nerves, and it’s not because you haven’t had sex in so long. It’s Simon’s mouth on your cunt, it’s his tongue playing with you until you come all over his face, again. It’s his moans of pleasure when your honey hits his taste buds, his wicked fingers exploring your depths, bullying that hidden part of yourself that makes you see stars. It’s his hushed words of praise, his grunts when his cock slaps against his belly with every instinctual kick of his hips against nothing.

You’ve lost your words a couple of orgasms ago, your lungs are too busy trying to pull air in and out to be of any use, your eyes can barely focus on his, dark with hunger, when he looks at you from between your legs.

He needs you ready, wet and loose for him, if his body can keep it up for him to have a full intercourse with you and, if he can’t, he wants you satisfied with what he can give you.

He groans against you when your fingers manage to find purchase on his short hair. He lets you pull his body up to yours, until he’s laying fully on you, your lips seeking his in a hungry kiss that has you keen when you taste yourself on him.

You hiccup his name, cunt rubbing against his erection hastily when his engorged tip slides against your clit.

“Wait!” He chokes out, lifting himself from your body.

Even full of endorphins are you are, alarm bells start ringing in your head at the preoccupation in his tone: did you do something wrong?

In his head Simon is trying to list off the entire armory back at the base, desperate to reel his orgasm in: it has been too bloody long and he feels like he’s sixteen again, popping his cherry with the cashier girl at the news stand at the end of his street.

He’s not sure his body can manage a second round, he doesn’t want to lose this one opportunity to sink inside of you.

“Simon?”

You try to keep the agitation from your voice. If, for whatever reason, he needs to stop, you need to make sure he’s not feeling like he’s leaving you unsatisfied.

Over you, Simon fists the sheets and closes his eyes, head bent so that you can’t see his labored expression. He bullies himself into breathing slowly and steadily, focusing his attention of what his senses tell him: the soft cotton of your bed sheets, your rugged breathing and the sounds of the city spilling in your shared sanctuary.

He needs to control the reactions of his body, center himself on every muscle, every nerve, the same way he does when he’s ready to snipe out an enemy.

“Love.” He groans.

“Do you need to stop?”

His head snaps up, the concern and the affection he sees on your face break him: he shouldn’t make you feel so anxious for him.

“No.” He groans, his body still trying to fight his iron will.

“Simon.” You touch his cheek. “I’m happy if you’re OK, you know that, right?”

Oh Christ he’s going to come untouched if you keep being so gentle with him: he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve you!

“Tell me you have condoms.”

His need for you is a knot of pain sitting in his lower belly, his body is reluctantly following his orders, but his cock aches for you, every breathe he takes is a stab in his gut.

“The lower drawer.”

He stops you from moving. Gritting his teeth he reaches for the knob of the bedside table and fishes in the odds and ends, a light of hope burning wild when he touches the plastic wrapper and grabs it hastily.

He gently moves your hands away when you try to help him roll the condom on his aching erection: he will come if you touch him.

You help him maneuver your legs around his hips, your hamstrings protesting at the angle he has to position you, your cunt flutters when he, slowly, rubs himself against your wetness: he’s prepared you well to take him, you’re drenching him, the wet sounds like music.

He blacks out as soon as he bottoms out, when your cunt clenches around him, stealing his pleasure from him.

The cold wakes you up. Outside the storm is still raging and the bedside lamp is out of commission, it forces you to feel around until you find Simon’s T-shirt, still discarded where you have thrown it. On trembling legs you stand up and wear it, before you paddle to the living room; you’re pleasantly sore, the kind of sweet pain you cherish because it means you’ve been loved well.

“Simon?”

The sound of a glass being deposited on the table makes you turn towards the kitchen: he’s there, his massive form blacker than the night itself.

“You’re out of power.” He rumbles.

He’s dressed back in his jeans and hoodie, the hood back up over his head.

“It’s the power grid of the entire block. Weather like this plunges us back to the Middle Ages.” You try to defuse the tension in the air with your lame joke. “Come back to bed? It’s awfully cold without you.”

You stand in front of him, his body ramrod straight in front of yours.

“You want me there?”

You hate his tone, so clipped and collected. He breaks your heart.

“Why wouldn’t I want you there?”

The way his head turns makes sure you can’t look at his expression, and you can’t have that.

The anxious way he had stared at you after his peak had made all your alarm bells ring in your head. You had hugged him, making sure his face was hidden in the curve of your neck, you had caressed his tensed back until he had relaxed in your embrace, your voice warm with praise for the way he had made you come, repeatedly, on his face.

“I didn’t…” You don’t make him finish.

Boldly you enter his space again, one hand sneaking under his hoodie to find his warm skin; you need to risk it all, if you want to keep whatever link you have with him.

“You didn’t hear me complain, let me finish. You have no idea how hot it was to see you lose control like that, for little old me. You managed what no partner hell! Even my own vibrator ever could, Simon. I lost count of how many times you made me come for you, my maximum is two times in a row, and I needed a moment in between those. It’s not what happened with you.”

His hand snatches yours in a lax hold, you know full well he could break all your bones if only he wanted.

“Don’t lie to me.”

You don’t let the low growl deter you. Slowly, you move your trapped hand, and his, up to your face; you know he’s letting you maneuver him, man his size you wouldn’t be able to otherwise. You’re not sure how much he can see, yet you telegraph your movements anyway, your teeth biting the tip of his gloved middle finger to pull the garment away: if he wants, he can stop you any time.

You let it fall on the floor and guide his scarred hand between your legs.

“Can you feel how wet I still am for you, Simon?” He hiccups on a breathe. “Answer me.”

You can feel his full body shudder at your command, and God isn’t it the hottest thing ever?

“I do.”

His fingers start to explore your folds and you have to steel yourself or you’ll lose your thread.

“Am I lying to you? Is my cunt lying to you?”

“No.”

He’s breathless and, if you’d feel for his heart, you’d hear it thumping wildly against his chest. He needs to remove his fingers from the warm cradle of your cunt, yet his brain is stubbornly refusing to send the information to his hand.

“I don’t care whether or not you rearrange my guts with your cock, Simon. Sex is great, orgasms are amazing, but all of it pales compared to all the time we spent together just talking. Tell me you understand.”

His fingers clench inside of you and you moan.

“I understand.”

“Then, explain to me like I’m stupid, why I wouldn’t want to wake up wrapped around you. Why I wouldn’t want to explore every inch of your skin until you’re too out of it to even beg. You make me come on your cock? That’s a plus. You make me laugh and chat with me during night shift? You, somehow, know how I drink my tea? That’s what I value. You make sure I am home safe? That’s the kind of dedication I have never found in anybody else.”

His free hand grabs your hip to steady you, his fingers, still deep inside of you, haven’t stopped moving, plunging into you inch by inch.

“I wouldn’t mind sitting on your face until you tap out, but I’d be as happy to lay on the sofa and watch this awful storm for the rest of the night.”

There’s another storm wrecking war inside of him, two sides pulling him in two different directions: one that’s screaming that he needs to leave, now, before he embarrasses himself even further, the other is fueling liquid fire in his guts, all his blood tumbling, again, to his cock.

“I don’t need to tap out, I can bench press your weight.”

You don’t have the time to whine at the loss of his fingers, not when he hauls you up and against the nearest wall, knocking your breath out of your lungs.

Simon is fueled by desperation, one hand under your arse to keep you where you should be, the other fishing for his zipper, knuckles knocking against yours in your dual haste: he hasn’t felt like this in ages and, this time, he’s actually in control of his own desire.

“Please!” You beg. “Now Simon!”

“Need to make sure…”

You snap your teeth near his ear, you don’t care if you’re ready or not, the drag of his cock against your folds is driving you mad.

“I swear to God if you don’t put it in immediately I will murder you in your sleep!”

He moans when he breaches you again. Despite his need, he pushes slowly in and out, helping your body accept his intrusion, his mouth overs yours, drinking your shaky breaths.

A juicy curse slips his lips once he’s bottomed out, your cunt trapping him in your depths, warm and silky around his cock.

Your forehead knocks against his, your breaths coming out in harsh puffs as you try to relax your quivering muscles around him and God you wish you could see his face.

“So… warm, ah!” He moans.

You call his name, drunk on the feeling of fullness, of being owned, on his hands grappling the cotton of the T shirt to reach your skin, shredding it to taste you on his tongue again. He’s burning up, he feels too hot and your trembling hands on the hem of his hoodie are a blessing, trying to free him, his scarred torso now crashing against yours, his lips locking with yours as he moves, desperate in and out of you, groaning when you sheath him again in your warmth.

“I can’t! I can’t!” You scream when his rough fingers find your clit again.

He needs you to come all around him the same way he needs air, he’s teetering his own end, those warm flames licking at the edge of his consciousness but he doesn’t want to be selfish, to use you again for his own pleasure.

“Need you.” He keens, broken when the high pitched scream of his name becomes a long wail and your body tries to squirm away from his hold, his fingers grabbing your hip so tightly he knows he’s going to leave bruises on the soft skin.

“Simon! Simon!”

You push with the heels of your feet against his tailbone, desperate to evade his hold, your brutalized clit firing and firing, the pleasure burning through you, his body pulling you closer, his cock pistoning wildly in your warmth, the squelching of your shared pleasure spurring him on, your nails scratching his skin careening him into his own pleasure.

You come, your cunt wounding so tightly around him that he spills with a shout that you don’t hear: you’ve already blacked out.

It’s Wednesday and you haven’t left your apartment. You’ve barely made out of bed to try and sort out the mess the storm has left on the balcony, on Monday, when he had left only to come back with a duffel filled with black, identical clothes (you’ve lost this bet with the nurses at the hospital, indeed he owns the same outfit, go figure!).

He had taken a long look at you, marched to where you were trying to save one of the potted plants smashed on the floor, had manhandled you inside your bedroom (and you were giggling the whole time like a teenager), removed your home clothes looking at them as if they personally offended him and bullied you into one of his black T shirts; only then he had looked at you and growled “That’s better”. And now you’re laying on the bed, cuddled with your head on his shoulder, while you’re browsing on your phone, in the hope to find an online store that isn’t Amazon, to find some surgical masks with sturdier straps than the one he’s currently using.

He’s black mass on the colorful bedding, dressed head to toe in his black clothes, skull baklava to protect his face. Only his hands are free of his gloves and he makes you feel like a Victorian gentleman staring at a naked ankle, your eyes wandering from your phone to his long fingers curled around an e-book reader.

It’s domestic, and all you ever wanted from life, despite being so different from what anyone you know would deem normal.

You two have talked about his whole demeanor of the past years, he’s worshiped your body until you had to beg him to stop, that it was too much; in the dark you have made good on your promise to map out his skin until he was choking on his on breathe, too far gone to even moan.

He hasn’t let you see his body during night time and that’s OK, you don’t expect him to overcome years of life in the span of a couple of days; the fact that he’s lounging with you, that he’s accepting the amount of physical contact that comes with you hugging him and using him as your personal body pillow, it’s a miracle to you. Last night, when you were trying to watch a movie, he had let you follow the paths of his sleeve tattoo, ending up falling asleep, his big body lax in your hold.

“We should go on a date.” You say, turning your head to look at his masked face.

“We have been on dates.”

“Eating take out food Soap has bullied you into buying is not a date.”

You can see his lips break out in a smile under the baklava.

“How is he still alive?”

“He’s a fast bastard.”

“You should thank him.”

“His head would grow ten times the size, you wouldn’t like that, love.”

“We should still go.”

There’s a part of him that still can’t believe this is happening, that you haven’t cussed him out in the rain, that you want to be seen around next to him, skull mask and all. That you’re so accepting of his hit and miss libido: he’s made up in Heaven, somehow, this can’t be his life.

Using your own distraction against you, he rolls you under his body: you look so right wearing his T-shirt and nothing else, it’s a travesty to dress you up in something that doesn’t smell like him.

“And where would you bring me?”

You beam up to him, your hands caressing his sides slowly over the material of his hoodie.

“Wherever you’d like.”

Even if it’s eating out on the balcony, you’d be happy, as long as he’s living his life with you, not hunting for scraps: you want to give him all.