#i just correct it relatively fast in my mind most of the time

[tobiosbbyghorl]

IN STITCHES | PSH | PART 1

pairing: grump surgeon! sunghoon x surgeon! reader

wc: 20.8k first part 14.8k

synopsis: A grumpy, emotionally guarded surgeon and a sunshine-hearted resident collide in the high-stakes world of medicine—what begins with spilled coffee and sharp words slowly transforms into stolen glances, quiet care, and a love powerful enough to heal even the deepest wounds.

It was supposed to be a good day.

The kind where the hospital coffee machine didn’t malfunction, where Y/N’s ID card actually worked on the first tap, and where she could maybe—just maybe—make it through orientation without embarrassing herself.

And then she turned the corner too fast.

Her shoulder slammed into a firm chest, the jolt sending her coffee cup flying—directly onto the pristine white coat of a man walking toward her. It splashed in a perfect arc, dark liquid staining the fabric from his shoulder down to the navy blue scrubs underneath.

“Oh my god—!” Y/N gasped, already fumbling for tissues from her coat pocket. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you—I should’ve—”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. Just looked down at the damage, then up at her, his jaw tight and eyes sharp.

“Of course,” he said coolly, “it’s always the first-years.”

Her mouth opened, then closed. She stared up at him. Tall. Unsmiling. Ice in his gaze. His name tag read Dr. Park Sunghoon – Cardiothoracic Surgery.

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no.

“I’ll pay for the dry cleaning,” she blurted, cheeks burning.

“Don’t bother.” He pulled off the coat in one smooth motion, folding it over his arm. “Just try not to cause any surgical accidents when you inevitably panic in the OR.”

Her jaw dropped slightly. “That’s not fair—”

He walked off before she could finish.

Y/N stared after him, mortified, still clutching her now-empty coffee cup. She hadn’t even started her first day, and she’d already gotten on the bad side of the hospital’s most feared surgeon.

Of course, it had to be him.

Welcome to Seonghwa University Hospital, she thought bitterly. You’re officially doomed.

Rounds that afternoon were brutal.

She stood with three other surgical residents, nerves tingling like live wires as Dr. Park reviewed patient charts with clipped efficiency. His tone was clinical, cold, and sharp enough to slice straight through any trace of confidence.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” he said suddenly, eyes flicking toward her. “What’s the protocol for a Type B aortic dissection?”

Her mind scrambled. “Uh—CT angiography to confirm diagnosis, followed by—surgical intervention if there’s evidence of rupture or compromised perfusion—”

“Too slow.” His voice cut clean through her stammering. “If you think for that long during a real dissection, the patient’s already coding.”

Heat rushed to her face. She bit her tongue.

“Review it tonight. Come back with a better answer. Next.”

—

It didn’t stop there.

He questioned her again—this time on anticoagulation protocols—and when she got the answer right, he didn’t acknowledge it. He just moved on without so much as a nod. But when another resident answered wrong, Sunghoon launched into a five-minute correction speech.

By lunch, Y/N sat at the corner of the breakroom table, stabbing at her rice bowl and trying not to take it personally.

“He’s like that with everyone,” another resident, Yeji, said around a mouthful of kimbap. “He’s allergic to praise. Thinks kindness slows people down.”

“I don’t need kindness,” Y/N muttered. “I just need him to stop looking at me like I’m roadkill.”

“He probably respects you,” Yeji said with a grin.

Y/N looked at her like she’d grown a second head.

“No, really,” Yeji shrugged. “The more he criticizes, the more he sees potential.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “That man would criticize a puppy for blinking too slow.”

—

She made the mistake of letting herself relax during an evening case—a relatively routine pericardial window. She wasn’t even assisting, just observing, but she leaned in to see better, her gloved hand briefly brushing against the sterile field.

“Out,” Sunghoon said sharply without turning.

Her breath caught. “I didn’t—”

“You broke the field.”

“It was an accident—”

“I said out.”

The scrub nurse gently guided her back as her stomach sank through the floor. Her chest burned. Embarrassment. Shame. Frustration. All of it twisting together as she stood silently behind the glass.

When the surgery ended, he walked out without looking at her.

But the nurse leaned in and whispered, “He did the same to a fourth-year two months ago. Don’t take it to heart.”

She smiled weakly, but it still stung.

It was nearly midnight by the time she sat down in the stairwell.

Cool concrete steps. The quiet hum of a hospital trying to catch its breath between crises. She pulled her knees to her chest and let her head rest against the wall.

She wouldn’t cry.

She would not cry.

Not over a man who probably hadn’t smiled since the last Olympics.

Her pager buzzed.

Rotation confirmed – Cardiothoracic Surgery: Dr. Park Sunghoon. Start time 5:00 AM.

Y/N sighed. “I hate everything.”

—

She stayed late the next night—not because she had to, but because one of the nurses mentioned a young girl in the cardiac ICU who’d come in with a complex congenital defect. A rare case. A once-in-a-residency kind of case.

Y/N wasn’t on the attending team, but she couldn’t help herself.

The girl, maybe ten, looked fragile in the bed. Tubes and monitors surrounded her like armor. Her mother sat by her side, gently brushing the girl’s hair back from her forehead.

Y/N hesitated outside the door, then stepped in quietly.

“Ma’am?” she said softly. “Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?”

The woman looked up, red-eyed. “No… thank you. She’s just resting. They said she’s stable for now.”

“She’s lucky to have you here,” Y/N said kindly.

The woman gave her a watery smile. “Dr. Park said there’s still a chance. But the way he said it… I don’t know if he believes it.”

Y/N knelt beside the bed, brushing a thumb gently over the girl’s tiny hand. “Sometimes doctors get tired. We see so much heartbreak, we forget that hope can still matter. But your daughter’s here. She’s fighting. And you’re doing everything right.”

The woman sniffled. “Do you think she’ll make it?”

Y/N smiled softly. “I think miracles happen here every day.”

The woman didn’t reply—but she held her daughter’s hand tighter.

Y/N left the room a few minutes later, shoulders tense but heart strangely full.

And then she saw him.

Sunghoon stood against the wall, arms crossed, half-shadowed by the ICU lights. His eyes had that unreadable gleam again—not anger, not coldness. Something else.

“You talk a lot,” he said flatly.

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks.”

“You’re not even on this case.”

“I know.”

He studied her for a long moment. “Why waste time on false hope?”

She didn’t hesitate.

“Hope isn’t false,” she said quietly. “It’s survival.”

Something flickered in his gaze. Barely there, but it was real.

He didn’t say anything else. Just turned and walked away.

But this time, she saw it—just a flicker—hesitation in his steps.

And that, somehow, felt like the beginning of something she didn’t yet have a name for.

⸻

Y/N’s alarm blared at 4:15 a.m., and for the third time that week, she debated quitting medicine altogether.

Her shoulder still ached from the equipment cart that nearly crashed into her the night before—some intern had rushed around a blind corner, and she’d instinctively stepped in to protect the patient’s IV line. The cart clipped her hard, sending her stumbling back into the wall. No break, thankfully, but the bruising was deep.

Of course, Sunghoon hadn’t said a word about it. He’d looked at the scene, confirmed the patient was fine, and walked away.

Classic.

She hadn’t even had a second to ice it properly.Now, with her arm throbbing and her body protesting every step, she rushed to the operating theater.

He was already there when she arrived.

“You’re late,” he said flatly without looking up from the chart.

“It’s 4:59,” she breathed out, chest rising. “Technically, I’m early.”

His eyes flicked up. “Technicalities don’t save lives.”

She gritted her teeth, fingers twitching by her side. “Understood.”

She moved to scrub in, but lifting her arm to tie the back of her gown made her wince involuntarily. Her fingers paused. Her shoulder tensed. She bit her lip, trying not to make a sound.

And then, suddenly, he was behind her.

Not a word. Not a breath.

Just quiet, practiced fingers tying her gown strings for her.

She froze.

“Next time, ask someone for help,” he said, voice low but firm. “You’re no use to the team if you pretend you’re fine.”

Y/N turned slightly, stunned. “How did you—?”

“You’re favoring your left side. And you winced when you reached for the tray yesterday.”

He tied the final knot and stepped back. His face gave nothing away.

“Be sharp today. It’s a double bypass, and the attending will expect quick thinking.”

Just like that, he was all business again.

But her heart skipped—just once—and her shoulder didn’t hurt as much.

—

Later that day, during rounds, she fumbled her words again. Her brain was foggy with exhaustion and a dull throb beneath her collarbone.

“What’s the minimum ACT required before initiating cardiopulmonary bypass?”

Her lips parted. Her mind blanked.

Sunghoon stared.

“Dr. Y/L/N?”

“480 seconds,” she managed, finally.

He looked unimpressed. “Don’t guess in surgery. If you don’t know, say so. Guessing gets people killed.”

Her stomach dropped. She nodded quietly.

After rounds, she sat alone in the on-call room, feeling the sting of his words settle in her chest. But not even twenty minutes later, a nurse knocked on the door.

“Dr. Park asked me to bring this to you,” she said, holding out an ice pack wrapped in a soft towel.

Y/N blinked. “What? He—?”

“Said you might need it. Said you wouldn’t ask.”

The nurse left before she could say anything else.

Y/N stared at the pack for a long moment before pressing it gently to her shoulder, lips pulling into a reluctant smile.

—

The next morning, she stood by the OR board, scanning the list for her name. Her stomach clenched when she saw it.

Lead assist – Dr. Park Sunghoon.

She’d barely gotten over the last case.

But she scrubbed in anyway, tied her gown on her own this time, and walked into the OR ready for war.

He didn’t look at her.

Didn’t speak more than necessary.

But when the scalpel was passed and she moved to retract, he said quietly, “Switch to your left hand. Don’t strain your dominant arm.”

She blinked.

“You noticed?”

“I’m not blind,” he replied, voice clipped. “And I don’t want my resident passing out mid-case because she’s trying to prove something.”

Y/N swallowed a smile and shifted her grip. “Noted.”

The case went well.

She followed his movements with precision, matching his rhythm as best she could. And once, just once, he looked up and met her eyes over the surgical mask.

It was only a second. A flicker.

But her chest tightened.

He saw her.

Not just as a clumsy first-year or a liability.

He saw her.

—

It was almost midnight again.

She walked out of the OR with trembling legs and a heavy heart. Her shoulder was screaming again. She leaned against the hallway wall and took a breath.

She didn’t hear his footsteps until he was beside her.

He didn’t say anything. Just handed her a paper cup of warm barley tea from the staff lounge. The lid was crooked, as if he’d never prepared one before.

She looked up at him, stunned.

His eyes didn’t meet hers.

“You shouldn’t take painkillers on an empty stomach,” he said simply.

She took the cup with both hands, fingers brushing his for a fraction of a second.

“…Thank you.”

He started to walk away again, but she called after him softly.

“Why do you do that?”

He turned.

“Act like you don’t care,” she said. “But then… you always show up.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, finally:

“Because caring makes people expect things. And expectations get people hurt.”

She stared at him, heart pounding.

“But if we stop caring, we stop hoping,” she said. “And without hope, what’s the point?”

Sunghoon paused.

His voice was almost a whisper this time.

“Why waste time on false hope?”

She met his gaze, steady and warm.

“Hope isn’t false,” she murmured. “It’s survival.”

Something in his eyes cracked—not broken, but softening.

He didn’t reply.

But when he walked away this time, he moved slower.

Like maybe her words had stayed with him.

⸻

The surgical board shifted again.

This time, it wasn’t an accident.

She was paired with Dr. Park Sunghoon for the third time in a week. It couldn’t be coincidence anymore.

Y/N glanced toward the nurses’ station where he stood, arms crossed, reviewing charts. He didn’t look her way—but he didn’t need to.

She could feel it.

He requested me.

—

They prepped for a long aortic valve replacement. Y/N double-checked the patient’s chart, heart hammering in her chest as she reviewed each step in her head. This time, she didn’t want to slip. Not in front of him.

As they scrubbed in, he said nothing.

But once in the OR, while waiting for anesthesia, he turned to her.

“Walk me through your plan.”

She blinked. “My plan?”

“You’re lead assist. Act like it.”

That was new.

He’d never let her speak up like this before.

She straightened. “We’re approaching through median sternotomy. I’ll retract—carefully, since the patient’s anemic—and keep the field clear for cannulation. Once perfusion is initiated, I’ll monitor pressure and—”

His gaze didn’t leave hers.

“Good,” he said.

Her heart stuttered.

Not because of the praise—but because of the way he said it.

Low. Quiet. Like it wasn’t meant to be heard by anyone else but her.

—

The procedure was long. Six hours.

At one point, she nearly lost grip of the retractor when her shoulder screamed in protest. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.

Sunghoon didn’t look up.

But when the attending called for a clamp change, he reached over—under the drape—and adjusted her grip, subtly easing the weight off her injured arm. “You’re overcompensating,” he murmured. “Use your body, not your wrist.”

It wasn’t softness. It was technical.

But his touch lingered a beat too long.

And her hands didn’t tremble after that.

—

A week passed, then another.

They kept getting assigned together.

Somehow, she found herself gravitating toward his pace, matching his rhythm. He never gave her easy praise. Never babied her.

But he watched.

When she caught a medication error before it reached a patient’s chart—he didn’t say thank you. Just looked at her for a second too long and passed her a sterilized pen. When a code blue erupted mid-shift and she rushed to help, he appeared beside her two minutes later, silently taking over compressions so she could breathe.

No one else noticed. But she did.

And once—after a particularly brutal shift—she found a pack of muscle relief patches in her locker. No name. No note.

Just taped carefully to the inside, with a pair of latex gloves beside them.

—

One night, she caught him eating dinner alone in the on-call room. Cold noodles, barely touched. His shoulders were slumped—an unusual sight.

“Rough day?” she asked, hesitating in the doorway.

He looked up, startled.

Then back down at his food. “Long one.”

She moved to the counter to pour herself some stale coffee.

“You know,” she said cautiously, “for someone who tells everyone else to rest, you really suck at it yourself.”

His lips twitched. Just slightly.

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop on my advice.”

“Maybe if you said something nice once in a while, I wouldn’t have to,” she shot back, raising her brows.

He looked over at her again.

Not irritated.

Amused.

“You think I’m not nice?”

She sipped her coffee. “I think you’re complicated.”

“Complicated?”

“Yeah.” She leaned on the counter. “You bark at interns and bark louder at residents. But then you hand someone tea when they’re too stubborn to admit they’re in pain. Or… request someone to assist you just so she doesn’t get stuck with scut work.”

His eyes darkened slightly. “You noticed.”

“I’m not blind either.”

A beat passed.

He set his chopsticks down and looked at her fully now.

“You’re not like the others.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You’re too kind for this place,” he said quietly. “Too… hopeful.”

The words struck a chord—somewhere between compliment and caution.

She smiled softly. “You say that like it’s a weakness.”

“I’ve seen what this job does to people.”

“So have I.” She tilted her head. “But I still think kindness doesn’t have to die in order for us to survive.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond for a moment.

Then, so low she almost didn’t hear it—

“I don’t want to watch it die in you.”

Her breath caught.

And in that silence, their eyes locked—nothing but the hum of fluorescent lights between them.

He blinked first.

And just like that, the moment passed.

But something had shifted.

She wasn’t sure what exactly—but it lingered in her chest long after she left the room.

—

They didn’t speak of it the next day.

But she caught his fingers brushing hers when he handed her a clamp. Saw his jaw tighten when an attending snapped at her during rounds.

And once, when she laughed at something a fellow said during a break—Sunghoon turned away just a little too sharply, gaze dark.

The line was still there.

But now, they were toeing it.

Every day, just a little more.

⸻

The OR was unusually quiet.

Only the steady rhythm of machines, the murmur of the circulating nurse, and the soft rustle of gloves broke the silence. They were closing up after a smooth procedure—just the two of them. No attendings, no audience.

Y/N stitched with quiet focus, her sutures clean and symmetrical. Her fingers moved confidently, almost instinctively.

Sunghoon watched for a few moments longer than necessary.

“Where’d you learn to suture like that?” he asked, voice low.

She glanced up, surprised he’d noticed. “Oranges.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“In med school. I used to practice on oranges. My roommate was furious for months.”

His mouth twitched—just barely.

Almost a smile. But not quite.

“Good technique,” he said instead, and turned back to the tray.

The compliment settled in her chest like warmth on a cold morning. She didn’t need his praise—but it still mattered.

—

The following morning, Y/N was running late to rounds when she bumped into someone outside the break room.

Dr. Seo Jaemin. Neurosurgery’s golden boy.

“Whoa, easy there,” he said, steadying her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry—late again.”

“Here.” He handed her a protein bar. “Skipped breakfast, didn’t you?”

She blinked. “How’d you—?”

He winked. “You always skip breakfast.”

She laughed softly. “Thanks, Dr. Seo.”

“Call me Jaemin.”

From across the hallway, Sunghoon walked past without a glance.

But during rounds, he was impossible.

Every minor presentation from Y/N was scrutinized. He interrupted, questioned, forced her to repeat data she’d already gotten right. Even her notes weren’t spared. By the end of the session, she was red-faced and silent, fingers curled tight around her clipboard.

As the group dispersed, he walked ahead without waiting. “You don’t need compliments,” he muttered without turning around. “You need discipline.” The protein bar stayed in her coat pocket the entire day—untouched.

—

They didn’t speak again until three days later.

It had been a grueling shift—four back-to-back surgeries, all high-risk, high-pressure. Y/N didn’t remember the last time she drank water, much less sat down. During the lull between cases, she collapsed onto a bench outside the OR, head in her hands.

A shadow passed in front of her.

Then—“Catch.” She looked up.

A cold coffee cup hovered in front of her. Sunghoon stood there, gaze trained somewhere over her head.

She blinked. “Is this… for me?”

“Iced Americano. Half shot. No sugar,” he said, still not looking at her.

“You memorized my order?”

“No,” he replied curtly. “You mutter it every morning. It’s hard not to hear.”

And just like that, he walked away.

She stared after him, stunned.

And then smiled.

—

The next shift didn’t go as smoothly.

Midway through an elective gallbladder procedure, her body turned on her.

At first it was a wave of heat. Then a chill. Her vision swam, the room tilted, and her hands began to shake.

Sunghoon noticed before anyone else did.

“Y/N,” he murmured under his mask, “you good?”

“Fine,” she whispered, though her knees told a different story.

He didn’t press—but his next command came faster. Sharper.

“Clamp.”

Ten minutes later, she faltered. A sharp sway—and she nearly hit the floor.

He caught her elbow in a flash, his grip firm.

“Someone take over. Now.”

Without a word, he finished the procedure himself. Efficient. Controlled. Afterward, he walked her—no, practically carried her—to the on-call room. His expression unreadable.

“You don’t get to collapse on my table,” he muttered, kneeling beside her and pressing a cold pack to her flushed skin.

She managed a weak laugh. “Thought you didn’t care.”

“I don’t,” he said, voice flat. “I just don’t like replacing residents mid-surgery.”

“Right,” she mumbled, eyes slipping shut. “Of course.

But his hand lingered at her pulse longer than it should have. And when she fell asleep, he didn’t leave.

—

The next morning, she was back on her feet and heading to radiology when she overheard the nurses by the stairwell.

“…Park Sunghoon? Yeah. His fiancée was a cardiac fellow.”

“She died, right? Complication post-op?”

“Yeah. A rupture. He was in surgery when it happened.”

“He hasn’t been the same since. Doesn’t date. Doesn’t talk. Ice cold.”

Y/N kept walking. Didn’t let herself react.

But when she saw him later that evening—pacing outside the OR, tense—she didn’t flinch at the way he barked at a nurse or scolded a junior. She didn’t even flinch when he looked at her and said, “You’re on trauma call tonight. Hope you’re not planning to faint again.”

Instead, she smiled softly.

“I’m tougher than I look, Dr. Park.”

He stared at her for a beat too long.

Then turned away without another word. But that night, she found a small packet of electrolyte tablets slipped into her coat pocket. No note. No explanation.

Just like the coffee.

Just like him.

—

It started with silence.

Not the biting, clipped kind he used to wield like a weapon—but the kind that filled the space between them without pressure. The kind that settled in easily, like breath.

They were on-call together again. Two traumas back-to-back, one failed code blue, and a teenage stab wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding.

It was after that last one—after hours of blood, shouting, hands inside a chest cavity—that they sat side by side in the dim locker room. Neither spoke. She glanced at him. His scrubs were soaked. His jaw clenched.

Her hand moved without thinking—offering him the leftover chocolate from her coat pocket.

He didn’t take it. Just stared.

But didn’t leave.

“Sometimes,” she said quietly, “I imagine how different everything would be if I wasn’t in this field.”

He didn’t answer.

She tucked the chocolate back into her coat and stood to leave.

Then, softly, barely audible: “Me too.”

She turned, startled.

His eyes were fixed ahead. Still guarded. Still distant.

But something in his voice—cracked. Human.

Something that felt like the beginning of a confession.

—

A week later, they were paired on a complex cardiac procedure.

It was high-risk. High-stakes. The kind of case most attendings watched like hawks.

But Sunghoon didn’t hover.

He stood beside her, guiding, correcting—but not belittling.

And when she took the lead on a critical step, he didn’t stop her. Just murmured, “Careful,” like a reminder instead of a warning. After the successful surgery, she sat down at the nurses’ station to chart.

He dropped a granola bar beside her.

“Eat.”

She blinked at it, then up at him.

“Thanks.”

He didn’t respond.

But that night, he didn’t leave the hospital either.

She found him alone in the chapel—hands steepled, eyes blank. She didn’t go in. Just stood by the doorway for a moment and left him there. She never mentioned it the next morning. But he nodded at her in the elevator. A real nod. Like an acknowledgment.

That was new.

—

Then came the patient with the DNR.

Elderly. Peaceful. Ready.

The family wasn’t.

Y/N was the one who held the daughter’s hand while Sunghoon explained—clinical, detached—the reality of palliative care.

After the family left, she turned to him.

“Don’t you ever get tired of pretending none of this affects you?”

He met her gaze. Calm. Cold.

“Feelings get in the way of logic.”

“That’s not true,” she said. “You can care and still be a good doctor.”

He didn’t answer.

But later that day, she found him sitting beside the patient’s bed in silence, hands folded, just… keeping her company.

She didn’t say anything.

Just watched from the doorway.

She saw him gently adjust the blanket. Saw him whisper something under his breath before standing to leave.

—

A few days after that, she found herself alone in the stairwell, trying to catch her breath after a long call night. Her hands were shaking—adrenaline still high after a failed intubation.

The door creaked.

He walked in.

Paused when he saw her.

“You okay?”

She nodded, swallowing hard.

Then, surprising even herself: “You were right. About feelings. They do get in the way.”

Sunghoon stepped closer. Not too close.

“They also keep you human,” he murmured.

She looked up at him.

For the first time, he didn’t look untouchable. He looked tired. Worn.

Real.

“Did it happen here?” she asked quietly. “Your fiancée?”

His eyes froze.

And for a moment she thought he might snap.

But instead, he exhaled.

“ICU,” he said. “Complication post-op. We were supposed to have dinner after she recovered.”

She didn’t speak.

He didn’t need her to.

His next words came like splinters.

“I told her she was fine. That the surgery went perfectly. I went back to the OR… and she coded alone.”

The silence between them shifted.

Heavy. Sacred.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He nodded once, eyes shining—but he didn’t cry.

He never cried.

Instead, he looked at her—really looked—and said, “You remind me of her.”

Her breath caught.

“Not because you look like her. You don’t,” he added quickly. “But you… you care the same way.”

She opened her mouth, but he turned, reaching for the stairwell door.

Before he pushed it open, he paused.

“Be careful with that kind of heart,” he said softly. “It gets people hurt.”

And then he was gone.

⸻

She didn’t bring it up again.

Not the chapel.

Not the stairwell.

Not his fiancée.

The next day, she greeted him like nothing had happened. Gave a short nod during rounds, answered his rapid-fire questions like always, kept her tone level, calm.

Sunghoon never mentioned it either. But he noticed. Noticed the way she no longer challenged him on every clinical judgment. Not because she was afraid—no, Y/N didn’t scare easily—but because she was beginning to understand him.

The difference between wall and armor. Distance and protection.

She didn’t force closeness. She let silence speak. And that, more than anything, softened the tension between them.

⸻

They began to fall into rhythm.

A subtle, unspoken routine formed over the next few weeks.

If he came in early, there’d be a fresh cup of his exact coffee order on the counter—never handed to him directly, just waiting by the nurse’s station.

If she looked pale or tired, he’d ask her to triple-check the supply room—code for “take a breath, hide for five minutes, I’ll cover.”

They started reviewing cases together during night shifts—him pacing, her curled on a chair, tossing back ideas until they cracked the diagnosis like a puzzle.

Still professional. Still distant. But different now.

Their walls were shifting. Slowly. Quietly.

⸻

The night everything changed came unexpectedly.

The ER called in a critical: a child—six years old—brought in from a construction site accident. Crush injury. Collapsed lung. Internal bleeding.

The kind of trauma that pulled every doctor into overdrive.

Sunghoon and Y/N were first to respond.

Blood pooled around the tiny body. Alarms screamed. A nurse shouted vitals—BP dropping fast.

Sunghoon issued orders fast and sharp, steady in chaos. Y/N worked alongside him without hesitation, fingers slick with blood as she held pressure against the wound.

“He’s crashing—”

“Move!” Sunghoon barked, grabbing a scalpel.

Y/N held the child’s head steady as Sunghoon performed a rapid thoracotomy, opening the chest wall to decompress.

“You’re cutting too shallow,” she said, voice calm, measured.

He glanced at her—just a second—but enough to correct.

“Retractor.”

“Here.”

They worked as one. Focused. In sync.

And when the monitor finally beeped steady again—when the bleeding slowed, when the child breathed—Y/N leaned back, breathless.

Sunghoon looked at her.

Not just looked. Saw her.

His eyes softened. And for the first time—not a smirk, not an almost—but a real, genuine smile broke across his face.

Small. But there.

“You did good,” he said softly.

She blinked, stunned. “Did you just… smile at me?”

He stood. “Don’t get used to it.”

But as he turned, she swore—swore—his ears were red.

—

The shift ended hours later. The adrenaline faded. Exhaustion hit like a wave.

She found him outside the hospital, leaning against the railing under the early morning sky, tie loose, hands in his pockets.

She joined him quietly, handing him a bottle of water. No words needed.

They stood side by side in silence.

Then, without warning, his shoulder brushed hers.

Barely. Softly.

But he didn’t pull away.

Neither did she.

And when her hand lingered by his on the cold metal railing, he didn’t move.

Just let it rest there. Close enough to feel the warmth.

—

From that day forward, something shifted between them.

She caught him watching her sometimes. Not like before—not critical or guarded. Just watching. Quietly.

And one night, when she fell asleep during a case review in the break room, she woke up to a blanket draped over her shoulders. A chair pulled next to hers. He sat there, arms crossed, pretending to be reading.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“You snore,” he muttered.

She rolled her eyes, smiling into the blanket. “I do not.”

But he was smirking now.

And this time, she didn’t look away.

⸻

The rain came down in sheets.

She stood beneath the flickering streetlight, soaked through, arms wrapped around herself as her phone died for the second time that night. The last bus was thirty minutes late. The emergency shift had been brutal—three codes, one loss—and she hadn’t eaten since noon.

When the car pulled up, she didn’t recognize it right away. Not until the window rolled down and a familiar voice snapped, “Get in. Before you get pneumonia and ruin my schedule.”

She blinked. “You drive?”

“Clearly.”

“Since when do you give rides?”

“Since you’re too stubborn to call a cab.”

She got in without arguing. The heater was already on, blasting warm air into her frozen fingers.

They drove in silence for a minute before he spoke again, eyes on the road.

“You should’ve paged someone. You looked like you were going to pass out in the OR.”

“I was fine.”

“You were swaying.”

She risked a glance at him.

His jaw was tight. But his hand—resting on the gearshift—was relaxed. Open. Like he’d just unclenched it after holding something too long.

“Thanks for coming,” she said softly.

He didn’t look at her.

But his hand moved. Turned the heat up two more notches.

—

Three days later, the hospital lost power.

Backup generators kicked in for the surgical floors, but not the on-call rooms.

They found themselves stuck in the same one. Only one cot. One blanket. The temperature already dropping.

“Take the bed,” she offered.

“You’re exhausted.”

“You’re worse.”

A beat passed.

Then, without another word, she laid down on the narrow cot and patted the space beside her.

He hesitated.

Then joined her.

Back to back. Barely touching.

At first.

She fell asleep fast—her breath slowing, fingers curling near his side.

He didn’t sleep.

Just turned slightly, watching her.

She mumbled something. A dream. His name, soft like a memory. And then: “Don’t go.”

He froze.

Didn’t move for a long time.

When she woke up hours later, his jacket was draped over her and his arm was resting—lightly, protectively—beside her head. Her cheek was inches from his chest, where his heartbeat kept steady time.

He was awake.

But he didn’t pull back.

Just met her gaze and murmured, “You talk in your sleep.”

She flushed.

“Did I say anything embarrassing?”

He looked away, but his voice was almost gentle.

“No.”

Just true.

—

The next day, everything cracked.

A teenage patient coded in surgery. Sunghoon had been leading. All protocol followed. All decisions correct. But the bleeding was too fast. The heart gave out. He stormed out before the family could be told. Before the paperwork could be started. She found him in the supply room, sitting on the floor, scrubs bloodstained, hands shaking in his lap.

She didn’t speak.

Just sank down beside him, legs crossed, fingers gently brushing his. When he didn’t pull away, she took his hand fully in hers.His voice broke when he finally spoke.

“I did everything right.”

“I know.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

She didn’t argue. Just let him lean into the silence, her palm against the back of his hand. His head dropped forward. And for the first time, he let someone see him fall apart.

—

Two nights later, the fight came.

It was stupid, at first—a disagreement over procedure order, a miscommunication during rounds. But the tension had been building for days.

“I don’t understand you,” she snapped, pulling off her gloves after surgery. “You act like caring is a weakness. Like the minute someone gets too close, you’ll break.” He slammed the clipboard down.

“Because I know what it costs!”

The room went still.

His chest heaved. Her eyes widened.

His voice was quieter when he continued.

“Caring doesn’t save lives. Skill does. Discipline. Control.”

“But it’s not enough,” she said, voice shaking. “You said it yourself. Sometimes it’s not enough. So why push everyone away? Why be alone through all of it?” He looked at her then. Not angry. Just tired. “Because if I let myself care again, I won’t survive the next loss.”

Her breath hitched.

She stepped closer. Slowly.

“You’re not alone.”

He didn’t move. She raised a hand—barely touched his arm.

“You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

He didn’t answer. But his eyes closed. Just for a second.

And then, he exhaled.

A sound like surrender.

⸻

The hospital buzzed quietly in the background—hallway chatter, the click of nurses’ shoes, the low beeping of monitors. She caught sight of him reviewing charts near the nurses’ station and lingered. She hadn’t said it properly—not the way she wanted to. So she walked toward him, steadying her breath.

“Dr. Park.”

He looked up. Cool. Composed. Always.

She lowered her voice. “Can we talk?”

He gave a short nod and stepped aside into the vacant resident lounge. She followed, hands in her coat pockets, heart thudding louder than it had any right to. “I just wanted to say… I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I shouldn’t have challenged you like that. Not without knowing what you’ve been through. I crossed a line.”

He didn’t respond right away. He watched her for a beat longer than she was comfortable with—until he finally sighed and leaned back against the counter, eyes heavy.

“No,” he said. “You didn’t.”

She blinked.

He looked past her, almost through her. “It was a standard lap appy. Nothing out of the ordinary. I was scheduled for a major case the next morning, so I left her in post-op.” There was a hollowness to his voice, like the memory had worn down over time, but the edges still cut.

“She said she felt off. Lightheaded. But her vitals were fine. I figured it was the anesthesia. Post-op nausea, maybe. I told the nurse to page me if anything changed.” He swallowed hard.

“I didn’t stay. I didn’t listen.” Her chest tightened.

“There was a slow internal bleed. A small vessel rupture. Missed on imaging. She coded twenty minutes later.” His voice cracked. Just barely.

“They couldn’t bring her back.”

She felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Sunghoon…”

“I checked the scans again and again. I should’ve caught it. I should’ve been there.” He didn’t cry—but she saw the guilt, raw and thick behind his eyes.

“I never got to say goodbye. And I promised myself I’d never get distracted again. No attachments. No soft spots. Just skill.”

He finally looked at her.

“But then you showed up. With your jokes. And your oranges. And your endless goddamn optimism. You make it hard to remember why I built that wall in the first place.”

Her eyes burned.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again. “For everything you lost. For what it did to you.”

For a second, he just looked at her—like maybe he saw her differently now. Maybe the light wasn’t so blinding. “Thank you,” he said. Simple. Honest.

And she knew what it cost him to say it.

—

The shift wore on, but something between them had shifted.

It showed in the way he handed her a suture kit without her asking. In how he quietly corrected her charting error but didn’t make a scene. In how they stood closer than usual while consulting a post-op patient. That same patient, an older woman with a mischievous smile, squinted between them.

“You two married?” she asked, a little too loud.

They both stiffened. “No,” Sunghoon said flatly. Too flat.

But she smiled, flustered. “Definitely not.”

The woman hummed. “Could’ve fooled me. You fight like one of those couples on medical TV shows.” Sunghoon cleared his throat. “Focus on your recovery, Ms. Kang.” As they left the room, she bit back a grin. “You know she’s not wrong. He rolled his eyes. “You’ve been watching too many dramas.”

“I bet you’d be the arrogant lead.”

“I am the arrogant lead.”

She laughed. And for the first time in days, he smiled.

Really smiled.

And it was quick. Barely there. But she caught it. She always would.

⸻

It was nearly midnight when the trauma call came in.Pediatric emergency. Eight-year-old girl. Car accident. Blunt abdominal trauma. Sunghoon and Y/N exchanged a glance the second the page went out. Both already moving before words were necessary. She pulled her gloves on with trembling hands as they waited by the trauma bay doors. Sunghoon stood beside her, steady and calm—but his eyes flicked to her just once, landing on the set of her jaw.

“You okay?”

She nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just… kids always get me.” His voice was low. “Same.”

The gurney rolled in, chaos surrounding them—nurses shouting vitals, blood pooling beneath the child’s shirt, a terrified mother in tears nearby. The girl’s lips were pale, her breathing shallow “Possible spleen rupture,” one nurse shouted. “BP dropping fast.”

Sunghoon’s voice cut through the noise. “OR now.”

They rushed together. He barked out commands, she assisted without hesitation—already anticipating his steps, handing instruments, suctioning blood. Her hands didn’t shake. Not once. She didn’t flinch when things got messier. She held pressure where needed, held eye contact when he needed confirmation.

They saved her.

It took everything. But they did it.

⸻

Afterward, silence.

The girl was stable. Post-op team had taken over. Y/N leaned against the scrub sink, gloves off, surgical gown untied and hanging from her shoulders. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Sunghoon stood beside her, washing his hands slowly. His sleeves were soaked, hair mussed, voice hoarse when he finally said, “You were good in there.”

She turned her head. “You too.”

He glanced over. “I always am.”

She gave a soft laugh. “And there’s the arrogant lead again.”

He smirked—just faintly. Then his expression softened. “But tonight… I couldn’t have done it without you.” Her breath caught. The silence between them shifted—heavier now, but not with anger or grief. With something warmer. Closer. Unspoken.

“I—” she started, but didn’t know where she was going with it.

He stepped closer. Not too close. Just enough that her back straightened, and she could feel the static rising between them like the charged hum before lightning strikes. “You really don’t give up on people, do you?” he said quietly.

She shook her head. “No. Not even you.”

A beat passed.

Sunghoon reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face—slow, like he wasn’t sure if he had the right, but did it anyway.Her eyes searched his. “You can care, Sunghoon. And still be brilliant.”

He didn’t answer.

Just leaned in.

Not all the way.

Close enough that she could feel his breath. Close enough that if either of them moved even an inch—

A nurse barged in. “Dr. Park! Radiology needs—oh.”

They both froze.

The nurse blinked, then cleared her throat. “Sorry. Just—whenever you’re ready.” Sunghoon took a slow step back, jaw tightening. But his eyes never left hers. Not even for a second. When the nurse was gone, he said nothing.

Neither did she.

They just stood there in the silence. Both wondering what would’ve happened if no one had walked in.

—

After the almost-kiss, everything felt different—but Y/N wasn’t sure if she liked it. Her mind raced the entire drive home. Why had her heart fluttered? Why had his touch felt like it meant something when they’d spent so much time fighting, pushing each other away?

She stared at the ceiling for hours, the memory of his gaze lingering. She replayed it over and over in her mind, wondering if she had imagined the tension—or if there was something real there. Something more than just the exhaustion and the adrenaline of the surgery.

The next day, she tried to push it out of her head, but it lingered, creeping into every interaction they had. Sunghoon was still Sunghoon—cool, collected, and distant. But there were little things. Moments that made her heart trip over itself.

—

It started with him offering to drive her home after a late shift.It wasn’t anything grand. Just a simple, “I’m going that way. Get in.”

She almost said no—except she didn’t want to walk in the dark by herself. And there was something undeniably reassuring about him offering without asking for anything in return.

“Thanks,” she said, quietly getting into the car. The hum of the engine filled the space between them as he drove, the headlights cutting through the streets.

The drive was short, but still, it felt like time had slowed. He didn’t speak much, just focusing on the road. But every now and then, his eyes flicked to her—just for a split second—like he was checking to make sure she was okay. When they reached her apartment, she was about to open the door when he handed her a bag from the passenger seat.

“Here. Snacks,” he muttered, a little awkwardly. “You haven’t eaten dinner yet.”

She blinked, surprised. “I—thanks. I didn’t—”

He just nodded, turning the key in the ignition as if it were nothing. “Get some sleep,” he said before she could close the door. “You look like you could use it.” She nodded, feeling a rush of warmth in her chest. And just like that, he was gone. But it didn’t feel like the same cold, indifferent Sunghoon. There was a softness there now—quiet but there, nestled beneath the layers of his usual tough exterior.

—

Rumors started to spread a few days later. At first, they were innocuous—lighthearted teasing from the other doctors and nurses, all focused on the new dynamic between her and Sunghoon.

“Did you notice how he handed you the snacks? Just like a couple.”

“You’re telling me he actually offered to drive you home? Dr. Park? That’s—wow.”

But then, as these things often go, the rumors fizzled out just as quickly as they started. The teasing slowly died, conversations returned to the usual medical chatter, and life resumed as normal. They’d even been assigned to different surgeries for a while, their paths crossing less and less. Still, the air between them was different. It wasn’t as charged as it had been that night, but it wasn’t as distant, either. There was an undercurrent to everything they did—little glances, half-smiles, and more moments where their eyes lingered longer than they should.

—

The change wasn’t just in the rumors. It was in how he kept appearing at unexpected moments.

Another long shift came, and this time, it was his turn to bring in coffee. It wasn’t even a special occasion, just a Tuesday afternoon. And yet, when he set the cup in front of her without saying a word, she felt that familiar flutter again.

“You didn’t have to,” she said, looking up at him in surprise.

“I know.” He shrugged, standing there like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You were up all night with that trauma patient. You look like you need it.” She took a slow sip, eyes studying him. He looked so calm on the surface, but she could feel the tension just beneath it. Something had shifted in him, and she wasn’t sure if she was imagining it or if he was letting his guard down—just a little.

“I appreciate it,” she said, her voice softer than she intended. And he actually smiled at her then—a small, genuine thing that took her by surprise “Don’t mention it,” he said, turning to leave. But before he stepped away, he looked at her over his shoulder. “I’ll check on you later. Make sure you’re not about to fall asleep standing up.”

She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face.After all the walls he’d put up, the small gestures felt like a breakthrough. A crack in his armor. As the days went on, those small gestures kept coming—more rides, more snacks, more lingering moments of silence that said more than words ever could. He never pushed for more. Never made a big deal out of it.

But she noticed.

And for the first time, she realized that she wasn’t the only one starting to care.

⸻

It started with her laughter.

A quiet evening in the resident lounge. Most of the staff had gone home. Y/N was curled up on the beat-up couch with a granola bar and a chart in her lap, lips pressed together in deep concentration—until something on the page made her snort softly. She didn’t even realize he was there. Sunghoon watched from the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the frame like he hadn’t just frozen when he heard the sound.

“You always read discharge notes like they’re comedy scripts?” he asked, stepping in.

She looked up, startled, but relaxed when she saw him. “Sorry. This kid just wrote ‘Doctor Park is scary but he saved my guts, so I guess he’s alright.’” She grinned, eyes flickering toward him. “You’re earning a fanbase.” He rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the small twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Terrifying and efficient. That’s my brand.”

She smiled—bright, easy. And he didn’t look away.

It was quiet after that. Not uncomfortable. Just…quiet.She scooted over slightly, patting the empty spot beside her without thinking. “You can sit, you know. I won’t bite.”

He hesitated—but only for a second.

Then he sat.

Too close.

Or maybe just close enough.

They didn’t speak for a while. Her shoulder brushed his when she reached for her drink. His knee accidentally bumped hers. He didn’t apologize. Neither did she. The tension wasn’t sharp anymore. It was soft, slow, warm—like settling into something unspoken.

“You don’t stay late unless you’re avoiding something,” she said quietly, still flipping through her notes. He didn’t answer right away. Just watched her fingers trace the lines of ink on the page. “And you don’t bring snacks to people unless you like them,” he replied.

She paused. Looked at him. “So you do like me?”

He held her gaze for a beat too long.

“I never said I didn’t.”

That made her breath catch—just a little. Enough that she had to look away.

“I’m not used to this,” she admitted, the words coming out softer than she meant. “The in-between. The almosts.” He turned slightly toward her. “Then let’s stop pretending it’s an almost.”

The air shifted.

Again.

And this time, it didn’t feel like something to run from.

His hand found hers, resting between them on the couch. He didn’t grab it. Didn’t squeeze.

Just let it sit there, his fingers brushing hers—tentative but real. She looked down at their hands.

Then up at him.

“You’re impossible,” she whispered, smiling.

“And yet here you are,” he said. And he was smiling, too—more with his eyes than anything else.

They didn’t kiss.

Not yet.

But when she leaned her head gently against his shoulder, and he didn’t move away—instead letting out a quiet breath like he’d been waiting for this—they both knew something had changed.

Not a crack in the wall.

A door.

Opening.

Just enough.

⸻

Y/N didn’t expect to see anyone from the hospital on her day off. She had planned for coffee, maybe a walk around the park, and a moment to breathe without pagers screaming in her ear.

So when she saw him—Park Sunghoon, dressed down in a hoodie and joggers, standing outside a boutique pet store with a pristine white poodle perched in his arms—she froze.

Her first thought: He’s kind of hot when he’s not telling me I’m doing things wrong.

Her second: Is that a dog?

“Dr. Park?” she called, half in disbelief, half in amusement. Sunghoon turned, clearly not expecting to see her either. His expression didn’t soften right away, but his posture relaxed, and the corner of his mouth twitched. The poodle—fluffy, snow-white, with a little pink bow on her collar—blinked curiously at Y/N.

“Y/N,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“Enjoying my day off. Clearly not as productively as you,” she teased, nodding to the dog. “This yours?” He adjusted the dog in his arms, like he didn’t quite know what to do with her fluff. “Gaeul. Technically my sister’s. I’m just filling in while she’s out of town. Temporarily.”

“Sure,” she said, eyes twinkling. “You look natural with her.”

“I’m being judged by a resident and a poodle,” he muttered, but his lips tugged into something suspiciously like a smile. Before he could say more, Gaeul wiggled excitedly in his arms, clearly interested in Y/N. Sunghoon hesitated—then extended the leash. “You want to walk with us?”

It wasn’t phrased like a date. Not even close. But it felt like one.

—

The walk wasn’t long, but it was peaceful—quiet jokes, soft teasing, and a few moments of silence that didn’t feel awkward at all. She kept glancing at him when he wasn’t looking, surprised by how easy it felt. How different he was out here, in the sun, not shrouded in harsh fluorescent light or tense OR pressure.

He caught her looking once.

She quickly looked away. “I just can’t believe you own chew toys.” “They’re not mine.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, not buying it. “I bet you even talk to her in baby voice when no one’s around.” He didn’t respond.

Which meant he absolutely did.

—

Later, they ended up near a small bistro she liked, tucked between buildings, the kind of place with mismatched chairs and fairy lights strung across the outdoor patio. He glanced at her as they paused in front of it.

“You eaten yet?”

“No.”

“You want to?”

She blinked. “With you?”

“Unless you’ve got another emergency poodle date lined up.” She laughed—and it felt good, falling out of her chest that easily. “Okay. Let’s eat.”

—

Dinner was simple. Pasta, wine, shared appetizers. Gaeul napped peacefully in the seat beside Sunghoon, occasionally pawing at his hand when she wanted a scrap of food. Y/N watched him sneak her a piece of chicken, and something in her heart melted. She didn’t even realize how long they’d been sitting there until the sun dipped lower, coloring the sky peach and gold. The conversation had wandered—from their most annoying patients to childhood stories to travel dreams—and somehow, without meaning to, their knees were touching under the table.

“You’re different outside the hospital,” she murmured.

He raised a brow. “Better or worse?”

“Still grumpy,” she said. “But less… guarded.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just watched her for a moment, then leaned back.

“This was nice,” he said quietly. “You. Here.”

Her heart did a little somersault.

“So was this, like… a date?” she asked, teasing—but there was a hopeful edge under her voice she couldn’t hide. He didn’t tease back.

Instead, he tilted his head, watching her with eyes a little too serious. “I don’t know,” he said. “Do you want it to be?” Her smile was slow. “Yeah. I think I do.”

Sunghoon nodded once, then leaned forward, just enough for his voice to drop slightly. “Then let’s call it one.” And just like that—unofficial, simple, but undeniably something—the shift between them became real.

No masks. No operating room tension. Just him, her, and the warm beginning of more.

⸻

The morning air in the hospital was brisk, the corridors buzzing with early rounds and shuffling residents. But Y/N walked in lighter than usual, barely noticing the chill. She wasn’t just glowing—she was radiating. Like some invisible switch had been flipped, and everything suddenly felt warmer, brighter, closer.

Of course, someone noticed.

“You’re smiling,” Heeseung, one of the cardio fellows, said as they scrubbed in side by side. “That’s suspicious. Who let you have fun?” Y/N rolled her eyes, hiding the faint color creeping up her neck. “I’m just in a good mood.

“Right,” Heeseung said with a smirk. “Totally unrelated to you being seen near a very broody attending last night with a dog that looked like a cloud.”

She nearly dropped her surgical cap.

“You saw that?”

“I was walking back from the clinic. Couldn’t miss it. You two looked…” He cocked his head, playful. “Uncharacteristically cozy.”Y/N narrowed her eyes. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” he asked, grinning.

Before she could reply, the OR doors pushed open—cue the very subject of their conversation.

Park Sunghoon entered with a clipboard in hand, his usual calm intensity intact. Except… something about him was off. He didn’t bark at anyone. He didn’t rush. And when he passed by her at the sink, his fingers grazed hers—barely—but deliberately. A blink-and-you-miss-it kind of touch.

And then—he smirked.

Tiny. Barely there. But real.

Her brain short-circuited.

She glanced sideways at Heeseung, who now looked like he was watching a drama unfold in real-time. “I take it back,” he whispered. “This is better than TV.”

“Shut up,” she muttered.

But she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.

—

During the procedure, it was business as usual—Sunghoon giving instructions, Y/N assisting like always, but the atmosphere between them was subtly different. When she handed him instruments, his fingers lingered for just a breath longer. When she asked for clarification, he actually gave her a soft nod instead of an irritated sigh. And when the surgery wrapped up and she peeled off her gloves, she felt his eyes follow her for a second longer than necessary. Outside the OR, she pressed her back to the wall, trying to cool off the butterflies flapping against her ribs.

Heeseung passed by, clapping her lightly on the shoulder. “So. Coffee? Or should I just start planning your engagement party?” She shoved him down the hall. Behind her, Sunghoon’s voice rang out calmly. “Dr. Lee. If you’re done playing matchmaker, rounds start in ten.”

Heeseung straightened immediately. “Yes, sir.”

But as he passed, Sunghoon flicked his eyes toward Y/N—still faintly amused, still very much aware—and added with an almost imperceptible twitch of his lips:

“Glad someone’s in a good mood this morning.”

Y/N didn’t stop smiling for the rest of her shift.

⸻

Her shift dragged longer than expected, the kind of slow where time felt thick, and her body begged for rest. But even through the fatigue, her mind kept drifting—back to last night, to his quiet smirk this morning, to the way his fingers brushed hers in passing like it meant nothing and everything all at once. Y/N found him late that evening reviewing scans in the diagnostics lounge. Most of the hospital had quieted by then. The vending machine buzzed faintly behind her, and the soft hum of a nearby ECG monitor pulsed in rhythm with her nerves.

She knocked lightly on the doorframe.

He looked up. “You’re still here?”

“Barely,” she said, stepping in. “I was going to grab dinner before I collapse. Thought I’d ask if you wanted to join. Since you—” she paused, gathering her courage, “—seemed like you didn’t hate my company last night.” Sunghoon’s brows lifted, surprised—but not unpleasantly.

“You’re asking me out?” he said carefully, not mocking, but definitely amused.

“Technically, I’m asking if you want udon and maybe a beer at that tiny hole-in-the-wall spot by the train station,” she said, arms crossed, meeting his gaze with quiet defiance. “But if you need to call it a date—” He stood slowly, slipping the folder under his arm, that same unreadable expression settling over his features.

“I’ll call it dinner,” he said simply. “Unless you decide otherwise.” Her heart thudded, and she followed him out with a soft smile.

—

The place was dim and warm, all steam and sizzling broth and cheap plastic stools. It didn’t take much for conversation to flow again—stories about ridiculous patients, gossip they’d both overheard, moments they’d survived in chaotic silence. At one point, she laughed so hard she accidentally choked on a sip of beer, and he leaned forward with concern—hands braced on the table, eyes focused.

“You okay?”

She coughed once, nodding, waving a hand. “I’m fine.”

“You should chew before you drink,” he murmured, sliding a napkin toward her. “It’s basic survival.”

She grinned as she wiped her mouth. “You’re bossy even off-duty.” He tilted his head, eyes lingering a second too long. “You wouldn’t like me if I weren’t.”

“I think I already do,” she blurted—then froze.

His gaze sharpened, but instead of teasing her, he said—softly, without irony:

“I know.”

Her throat tightened, caught between panic and warmth.

The rest of dinner passed in that quiet, humming space—closer now. Like they were both slowly inching toward something they couldn’t define yet, but neither wanted to stop. Outside, under the glow of streetlights, he didn’t offer to drive her home.

He just walked beside her, hands in his coat pockets, shoulder brushing hers every few steps. When they reached the corner where their paths split, she turned to say goodbye—but Sunghoon spoke first.

“I don’t usually do this,” he said. “Whatever… this is.” She didn’t respond right away. Just stepped closer.

“Then don’t think too hard about it tonight,” she whispered. “Just walk me home.” So he did.

⸻

The next morning, Y/N showed up early to rounds with a coffee in each hand—one hers, the other a quiet gamble. She didn’t expect much. Maybe a nod. Maybe nothing. But when she passed Sunghoon in the hallway outside the nurse’s station, he took the cup without a word. Their fingers brushed. His gaze dipped to the coffee sleeve, then to her. “Still trying to bribe your way into my good graces?” he murmured, a corner of his mouth twitching.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. “Bribes are more effective than flattery with you. That much I’ve learned.” A beat passed. His voice was lower when he added, “You’re not wrong.”

—

They were checking in on a sweet older patient in recovery—a woman who’d had a complicated mitral valve repair that Sunghoon had handled with his usual precision. Y/N stood beside him as he reviewed the charts, jotting quick notes. The woman, Mrs. Choi, smiled up at them from her bed with knowing eyes and years of unspoken wisdom crinkled at the corners.

“Doctor Park,” she said suddenly, her voice soft but clear. “You’re different when she’s around. Sunghoon paused mid-note, not looking up. “I’m always professional.”

She waved a frail hand. “Professional, yes. But warmer. Not so much like a machine.” Y/N choked back a laugh, quickly glancing at Sunghoon—who, for the first time in weeks, looked genuinely flustered. “Don’t worry,” Mrs. Choi added kindly. “It’s a compliment. She brings the color out of you. You both make a good pair. In surgery and in life.” Sunghoon didn’t respond right away, flipping a page in her chart with more force than necessary. But then, without looking at Y/N, he said under his breath, “Tell me when your fan club starts mailing out T-shirts.”

Y/N smiled. “Only if you promise to wear one.”

—

Later that afternoon, they passed in the hallway again, mid-shift. No words. But he slowed down just long enough to let his fingers graze hers—barely a touch, almost an accident.

Except it wasn’t.

She turned, heart stuttering, only to find him already walking away. But his hand lifted briefly in a lazy half-wave—uncharacteristically casual.

She couldn’t stop the grin that followed.

⸻

It was nearly 3AM by the time they finally peeled off their scrubs, the adrenaline of the six-hour operation slowly bleeding out into exhaustion. The OR had been tense—delicate vascular repair on a child, high-risk and high-stakes. They’d barely spoken during the procedure, every move precise, instinctive. In sync. Now, the silence in the break room felt heavier, softer somehow.

Y/N sat on the worn-out cot first, back against the wall, her eyelids already drooping as she clutched a water bottle with trembling fingers. Sunghoon leaned against the doorframe, watching her for a long beat. “You should sleep,” he said quietly.

She looked up, too tired to smile. “You too. You look like hell.”

He scoffed lightly, but there was no bite to it. “Flattery again?”

“Always.”

He finally moved, shrugging off his coat and tossing it over the back of the chair. Then he hesitated—just for a second—before sitting beside her on the cot. There wasn’t much space. Their shoulders brushed. He didn’t pull away.

Neither did she.

The room was dim, the air slightly too warm. Her head dropped onto his shoulder without warning, and when she realized it, she jolted back with a quiet gasp.

“Sorry—”

He caught her wrist gently before she could move further. “It’s fine,” he said, softer than she’d ever heard him. So she settled back in, slower this time.

She felt his breath steady beside her. His body warm and solid. After a while, he shifted just enough to ease her down gently onto the cot, stretching out beside her. She blinked at him, eyes wide.

“You’re going to sleep here too?”

“You think I’ll leave you unsupervised after today?” he murmured. “You’ll probably try to round on three patients in your dreams.”

She chuckled, eyes fluttering shut.

Then came the quiet surprise—his arm sliding around her waist, anchoring her close. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t bold.

It was careful. Considerate. Quiet.

Like everything he did with her lately.

She melted into it, letting her hand rest lightly against his chest. His heartbeat thudded against her palm—steady, controlled, but undeniably there.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. Neither of them moved. Just before she drifted off, she whispered, “You’re not as cold as you pretend to be.” He didn’t respond. But the grip of his arm around her tightened just a little.

Enough to say, I know.

⸻

When Y/N blinked awake, the room was filled with that hazy, gray pre-dawn light seeping through the slats of the blinds. Her body ached with the kind of deep, all-consuming fatigue only surgeons knew—but it wasn’t discomfort that pulled her out of sleep.

It was warmth.

Steady, solid warmth wrapped around her like a cocoon. A strong arm still draped over her waist, and the quiet rhythm of someone breathing close—too close to be anyone but him. Her head was resting on his chest. Her fingers were curled loosely into the soft fabric of his shirt. And Sunghoon… Sunghoon hadn’t moved. She froze for a second, trying to process how close they still were, how completely tangled. She could hear his heartbeat. Feel it. She could feel everything. Slowly, carefully, she lifted her head just enough to see his face. Eyes closed. Jaw relaxed. Breathing even. Asleep. Or pretending to be.

She let herself look—really look—for just a second. This version of him, stripped of sharp lines and distance, was softer. Younger. And heartbreakingly human. A flutter moved through her chest. Unwelcome and warm.

She shifted slightly, trying to untangle herself without waking him—but as soon as she moved, his hand flexed on her waist. Not tight. Just deliberate. And then she heard his voice. Low. Raspy with sleep.

“…You talk in your sleep again.”

Her breath caught. “I wasn’t asleep yet.”

A beat. His eyes opened—just a sliver, just enough to meet hers. There was no smirk. No teasing. Just that quiet, unreadable look she was starting to memorize. “You said my name,” he murmured.

She flushed instantly, words scrambling. “I—I don’t remember—”

“I do.”

The silence that followed stretched thin, warm, alive with something unspoken. Her fingers curled unconsciously against his shirt again.

Sunghoon didn’t move.

He didn’t pull away.

Instead, he closed his eyes again and said quietly, “Five more minutes. Then you can go back to pretending we don’t like each other.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “Deal.”

And so they stayed like that—still, silent, suspended in the soft gray hour between night and morning. Not quite a confession. Not quite a denial. But something real in between.

⸻

By noon, they were back in their whites. Sunghoon was reviewing scans with his usual unreadable expression, and Y/N was beside him, slightly more relaxed than usual—though her hands still fidgeted with the corner of the tablet as she read vitals over his shoulder. When she reached for a pen at the same time he did, their fingers brushed—brief, but enough to make her flinch half an inch. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he just kept writing, deadpan. “You can’t keep doing that every time we touch.”

“Doing what?” she said, a little too quickly.

“Acting like it didn’t happen,” he murmured without looking up.

She blinked. Her pulse fluttered. And when she stole a glance at him—just a flick of her eyes—his mouth twitched like he’d caught it. Later, in the OR, they worked on a post-op complication together. Fast. Fluid. Almost like they could read each other’s thoughts.

“Clamp,” she said.

He passed it.

“Retract?”

He was already moving. “I’m on it.”

“Pressure’s stable—”

“Keep it there. Good.”

One of the scrub nurses muttered to the anesthesiologist, “They always been this in sync?”

The other nurse shrugged. “Didn’t use to be. Something changed.”

⸻

After surgery, they scrubbed out together in silence—shoulders brushing as they reached for the same towel. Again.

This time, neither of them moved away.

“I’m just saying,” said Dr. Ryu, a junior resident passing by with a smug smile, “if you two want to start finishing each other’s sentences, the rest of us will just assume it’s a married couple thing.” Y/N nearly dropped her towel. Sunghoon didn’t even blink. But then he turned to her, eyes steady, and said dryly, “We’ll have to work on our vows then.”

She stared at him, completely thrown.

He walked away.

She was left blushing by the sinks, heart hammering, while the other resident practically cackled.

⸻

It was nearing the end of their shift when Y/N noticed the blood.Just a faint smear against Sunghoon’s glove, but enough to stop her mid-sentence. She followed the trail with her eyes—to the side of his hand, just beneath the wrist. A shallow but angry-looking gash.

“Hey,” she said sharply. “What happened?”

He barely glanced at it. “Caught it on the edge of the equipment cart earlier. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” she snapped, louder than she intended.

He raised a brow at her. “Y/N—”

“You didn’t even clean it?”

“I didn’t have time.”

She exhaled tightly, already pulling gloves and antiseptic from the drawer beside her. “Sit.”

“I’m not a patient.”

“Well, you’re bleeding like one, so shut up and sit.”

There was something wild in her eyes, not just frustration but worry—sharp and real. He sat.She took his hand gently, pressing a sterile cloth against the cut. He flinched, just barely, and she softened her touch instantly.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “You have to take care of yourself too, you know.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“No,” she said, voice quieter now. “You are. You do this thing—like if you ignore it, it won’t hurt. That’s not how it works. You’re not invincible, Sunghoon.”

His name on her lips made his fingers twitch in hers.

She wrapped the gauze slowly, carefully, her brow furrowed. Her touch was precise, but tender—almost reverent. He watched her, watched the way she handled him like something she couldn’t afford to break.And when she finally looked up, their faces were too close. The air between them pulsed.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Her eyes flicked to his. “For what?”

“For caring. Even when I make it hard.”

She didn’t speak.

She didn’t need to.

Because her hand was still on his, and he hadn’t pulled away, and something in her chest was fluttering, aching, burning.

He leaned in—slowly, hesitantly—as if giving her time to stop him.

She didn’t.

Their lips met gently, barely more than a brush at first—but it deepened quickly, quietly, like something inevitable. Like the world narrowed to just this moment. His uninjured hand cupped the side of her neck, pulling her in, anchoring her there. Her fingers gripped his wrist—not his bandaged one, but the other—steady, sure, as if grounding herself.

It wasn’t rushed.

It wasn’t impulsive.

It was earned—built from every sleepless shift, every whispered name, every quiet act of care they never spoke about.

When they finally parted, neither of them moved right away. His forehead rested against hers. Their breaths tangled.

“Was that okay?” he asked, low, vulnerable.

She nodded. “More than okay.”

He exhaled, just the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Good.”

⸻

The hospital was as chaotic as ever the next morning—stretchers rolling in, pages echoing through the halls, the clatter of carts and calls for consults. But beneath all of it, something felt… different.

Not between everyone.

Just between them.

Y/N found Sunghoon in the hallway outside the cardiology wing, reviewing a file. He looked up the moment he felt her approach—like he’d already known she was coming.

No words at first. Just a lingering look.

Not the cold kind. Not the unreadable one.

This was the quiet acknowledgment of something shared. Something real.

He handed her the chart without breaking eye contact. “You’re late.”

She took it, unbothered. “You’re always early.”

“Habit.”

“Control freak.”

He smirked. “Still talking in your sleep?”

“Only when someone forgets to give me a blanket.”

He didn’t laugh—but his smile stayed. Barely-there, but constant. And warm. They walked down the hall in sync. She was reading vitals. He was adjusting his watch. Their hands brushed again—this time, neither pulled away.

⸻

In the recovery room, an elderly patient tilted her head at them after her post-op checkup. Mrs. Kang

“You two married?” she asked with a sly grin.

Y/N choked slightly. Sunghoon didn’t even blink.

“Not yet,” he said smoothly, turning the page on her chart.

Y/N turned bright red. “Dr. Park—!”

He passed her the clipboard like nothing happened, eyes twinkling as he whispered, “Don’t deny fate, Y/N.” She shot him a glare that had no real heat. Just a flustered kind of fondness.

The patient just chuckled to herself and said, “Well, I’ll be alive long enough to see it, I hope.”

Sunghoon, for the first time in front of someone else, let himself smile fully. “Count on it.”

⸻

The day passed in a rhythm. They shared notes without asking. Their silences were no longer tense—just comfortable. He offered her a ride home again, and this time, she didn’t hesitate.

When they reached her building, he didn’t say anything at first. Just reached into the backseat and handed her a little paper bag.

“What’s this?”

“Your favorite snack,” he said like it was obvious.

She stared. “You remembered?”

“Of course I did.”

There was no teasing this time. No sarcasm.

Just honesty.

She softened. “You’re really not that grumpy.”

He glanced at her, mouth tugging into that small, familiar smile again. “Don’t ruin my reputation.”

She laughed—and leaned in. A small kiss to his cheek this time, just as she stepped out. He blinked. Clearly not expecting it.

“See you tomorrow, Dr. Park.”

His voice followed her up the stairs. “Don’t be late, Dr. Y/N.”And for the first time in a long time, the shift in both of them wasn’t looming or confusing.

It just was.

Settled. Steady. Real.

⸻

Their rare day off was quiet, the kind of morning where even the city seemed to hush. Sunghoon didn’t tell her where they were going at first—just that he was picking her up early and to wear something warm.

They drove in companionable silence. The road stretched away from the city and into the hills, lined with budding trees and spring wind. She didn’t ask. She could tell from the way he gripped the wheel—steady, focused—that this wasn’t just a casual drive.

When they arrived, he parked at the edge of a small cemetery. Clean. Peaceful. Tucked behind rows of cherry blossoms just beginning to bloom.

Y/N followed him up the gentle slope until they stopped in front of a simple headstone: Kang Jiwoo. The inscription was brief. The flowers beside it fresh.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, hands in his coat pockets, gaze fixed on the stone. Y/N didn’t speak either. She just waited.

After a moment, he exhaled quietly.

“I come here every year,” he said, almost absently. “More often in the beginning. Now… when it feels right.” She glanced at him. He looked calm, but not distant. Like this wasn’t a weight he carried alone anymore.

“She was a nurse,” he continued. “Bright. Too bright for someone like me, really. She used to call me a robot.”

Y/N smiled softly. “She had a point.”

He huffed, faintly amused.

“She made me less rigid,” he said. “Taught me how to slow down. How to care without calculating the risk.” His voice dipped. “I forgot that after I lost her.” Y/N stepped closer but didn’t touch him—just let her presence be known, steady and quiet. He turned to her then, and for the first time, there was no shadow behind his eyes when he looked at her. Just something open. Braver.

“I wanted you to meet her,” he said. “In a way. Because… I think she would’ve liked you.”

Y/N’s eyes prickled, but she blinked it back. She knelt, brushing a stray leaf from the base of the stone, and whispered under her breath.

“Hi, Jiwoo,” she said softly. “I’m not here to take anything. Just asking for a little blessing.”

She smiled, tilting her head up toward the sky. “I’ve been waiting for someone who could make me feel safe without making me smaller. Who doesn’t need me to be perfect. Just… me.”

Sunghoon’s chest ached in a way he hadn’t expected. “And I think I found him,” she added, her voice barely above a whisper. “So if you’re watching over him… maybe you could watch over me, too?” He crouched beside her then. Not touching. Just being close.

Their shoulders brushed. The wind moved gently through the trees.

“I think,” he said quietly, “she already is.”

⸻

They drove back with lighter hearts. He let her control the playlist this time. She didn’t tease him when he hummed along. And when she reached across the center console to lace her fingers through his, he didn’t hesitate.

Not this time.

Sunghoon didn’t take her home right away.

Instead, he drove them into a quiet town square nearby. It was the kind of place with cobbled sidewalks, sun-washed shop windows, and a single family-run restaurant that smelled like warmth and comfort the moment they stepped in.

The old couple who ran the place greeted Sunghoon like an old friend.

“Aigoo, Doctor Park!” the ahjumma beamed, wiping her hands on her apron. “You finally brought someone!”

Y/N blinked, slightly startled. Sunghoon rubbed the back of his neck, clearly caught off guard. “We’re just—”

But the ahjussi had already waved them in. “Sit, sit! We’ll bring your usual. And something sweet for the lady, hmm?” They sat at the small wooden table by the window, surrounded by cozy mismatched chairs and plants in chipped mugs. Y/N leaned her chin on her palm, amused.

“Finally brought someone?’ You bring girls here often, Dr. Park?”

“Never,” he said, not even blinking. “You’re the first.”

That shut her up.

Lunch came fast—simple, homey dishes. Kimchi jjigae, crispy jeon, and a little plate of tteok for dessert. Midway through the meal, the ahjumma came over to refill their water, squinting at them like she was trying to solve a happy mystery.

“Are you two married already?” she asked brightly. “You look like a couple with a toddler waiting at home.” Y/N nearly choked on her bite. “N-No! We’re not—”

Sunghoon just raised a brow but didn’t correct her. The ahjumma chuckled, clearly not buying it. “He always looked too serious before, but now look—he’s all soft around the edges.” She winked at Y/N. “That’s love, yeobo.”

The word hit Y/N like a jolt of warm electricity.

Sunghoon stood to pay before she could respond, muttering something about “old people being nosy” under his breath. As they walked out, Y/N nudged him, eyes still sparkling.

“You gonna call me yeobo now, too?”

“Do you want me to?” he asked, completely straight-faced. She laughed—full and real. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He opened the car door for her and leaned in just slightly.

“Try me, yeobo.”

She flushed to the tips of her ears and swatted his chest, climbing in with a flustered smile that didn’t leave her face for hours.

⸻

After lunch, they strolled through the small town center, ducking into shops just for the fun of it. She made him try on ridiculous sunglasses. He made her pick a snack from the bakery “for later,” even though she insisted she wasn’t hungry.

They walked shoulder to shoulder, brushing arms, laughing quietly like the world had softened just for them. No pager, no emergencies. Just them. He bought her a tiny ceramic poodle figurine after she giggled at how much it looked like Gaeul. She didn’t say it out loud, but she wrapped her fingers around it carefully like it meant more than just a joke.

Dinner was unplanned. A small grill restaurant, tucked between two boutiques. The kind of place with sizzling meat and clinking plates and the warmth of shared stories over charcoal smoke. Y/N tried to pour him soju, and he dodged it at first—“I’m driving”—but she pouted until he let her at least fill his glass with cider.

“I had a really good day,” she said at one point, poking at her bowl of rice. “Thank you for letting me in.”

He looked at her for a moment longer than he should have. “You’re already in,” he said quietly. “You’ve been in for a while.”

The sky had long gone dark by the time they drove back. The road home was quiet, lined with streetlamps casting warm pools of light on the asphalt.

She fell asleep somewhere along the way, her head tipping toward the window before finally sliding softly to his shoulder. Her breath was slow, steady, warm against his shirt.

Sunghoon didn’t move. He just let her rest.

When they pulled up to her apartment, he cut the engine and sat for a second longer than he needed to. Her eyes fluttered open, a little dazed and blinking at him.

“We’re home,” he murmured.

She nodded slowly, stretching with a yawn. But when he got out and walked her to the door like he always did, she didn’t open it right away. Instead, she turned, leaned against it, and looked up at him.

“You could stay,” she said, softly.

He blinked. “Y/N…”

She pulled her best weapon—those wide eyes, full of mischief and something gentler underneath. “Just to talk. Watch something. You know. Rest. He arched a brow. “This isn’t how resting usually works.” “You haven’t rested all day either.” He hesitated. But then she tugged his sleeve, and he caved like he always did.

Inside, she handed him a blanket and told him to sit while she made tea. He didn’t say anything, just followed her lead, the corners of his mouth twitching into something almost boyish as he looked around her apartment like he was seeing it for the first time. And when she finally flopped down beside him, tea in hand, he whispered without looking at her, “You know this doesn’t feel temporary, right?” She sipped her tea, leaned against him, and whispered back, “It doesn’t have to be.”

⸻

They didn’t pick anything serious to watch. Just a random drama that was trending—one with overly dramatic plot twists, too-pretty doctors, and love triangles that made them both scoff. She sat curled up under one end of the blanket. He sat beside her, long legs stretched out, sipping the tea she made like it wasn’t too sweet for his taste. At one point, she laughed—loud and unfiltered—at a particularly absurd scene. Sunghoon turned toward her with a small, incredulous smile.

“You’re really into this, huh?”

“It’s terrible. But I need to know if the second lead confesses before the wedding.”

He chuckled under his breath and shook his head, but when she leaned into him during the next episode without saying a word, he didn’t shift away. He just pulled the blanket up around her shoulders a little more securely. By the third episode, her eyes started fluttering closed again.

“You’re falling asleep,” he said softly.

She hummed. “’M not.”

He glanced down to find her curled into his side, tea long abandoned on the table. Her breathing deepened. His shoulder had become her pillow again. He didn’t mind.

⸻

When the credits rolled, he muted the TV and let the silence fill the room. A soft hum from the fridge, the occasional car passing outside.She stirred in her sleep but didn’t wake. Sunghoon watched her for a moment—her hair slightly messy from the couch pillow, one hand resting over her stomach like a sleeping child, a small frown between her brows even now. Always so much feeling in her. His fingers hovered above her cheek for a second before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You really are something else,” he murmured, voice so low it got swallowed by the dark. He leaned back, head tilting against the couch, and closed his eyes.

⸻

They woke tangled.

She stirred first—blinking blearily, realizing her hand was on his chest and her legs draped over his.“Oh my god,” she whispered. “Hmm?” he groaned, eyes half-lidded. “You move a lot.”“You’re literally hugging me.” He looked down, then shrugged, completely unapologetic. “You didn’t seem to mind last night.”

She flushed, but couldn’t hide the small smile creeping onto her lips. “So… you’re staying for breakfast?” He smirked, brushing a thumb against the back of her hand before standing to stretch. “Only if you’re making pancakes.”

“Only if you’re doing the dishes.”

“Deal.”

It was the kind of morning that felt like they’d been doing this for years.

⸻

The scent of butter and warm batter filled the small kitchen, sunlight pouring in through the half-open blinds. Y/N stood by the stove, flipping the pancakes with practiced ease, still wearing her sleep shirt and the flannel pants she’d tossed on earlier. Her hair was a little messy. Her eyes still carried that post-nap haze. But there was a softness in the air, one that hadn’t quite left since they woke up.

She didn’t hear him walk in at first.So when Sunghoon wrapped his arms around her from behind, she let out a startled little squeak, only for him to chuckle and bury his face into the crook of her neck.

“You’re warm,” he murmured, voice still heavy with sleep.

She relaxed into him instinctively, the spatula in her hand hovering over the pan. “You’re clingy,” she said, but there was no bite—only fondness.

“You’re pretty,” he replied, arms tightening a little as he nuzzled behind her ear. “Baby.” She blinked at the pet name, her breath hitching just a little. It came out so effortlessly.

As if he’d always meant to call her that.

“I’m trying to make you breakfast,” she whispered, heart thudding quietly in her chest.

“I know,” he said, smiling into her skin. “But it’s unfair. You’re cooking and looking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like the girl I’m… falling for.”

She went still, just for a beat. Not dramatic. Not heavy. Just honest. Soft-spoken and steady, like he wasn’t afraid of the truth anymore. She turned slightly, just enough to see his face. “That so?” Sunghoon kissed her temple, then her cheek. “Mm. I like waking up with you. Like this.”“Even if I burn your pancakes?”

“I’ll eat them anyway.”

She turned fully, wrapping her arms around his waist this time, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his jaw. “Then let me finish, clingy boy.” “Fine.” He smirked. “But I’m still hugging you while you do it.” And he did—standing there behind her, arms around her middle, chin on her shoulder while she made breakfast like it was the most natural thing in the world.

part 2

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permanent taglist: @ijustwannareadstuff20 @hoonielvv @rjssierjrie @firstclassjaylee @morganaawriterr @rikifever @daisyintherainsposts @kkamismom12 @pocketzlocket @semi-wife @soona-huh

[final-script]

Decisions | Jack Grealish

Pairing: Jack Grealish x Reader

Sumary: When they decide to take the step from being private to being private but not secret.

Warnings: English is not my first language !!!.There are probably many mistakes (I will correct them later),

a/n : Honestly, I don't know if it makes any sense what I just did, but I hope you enjoy them.

Gif: packjoker

-------------------------

They both scrutinized every moment they shared alone.

Jack knew what the press is like, so since he met you and both decided to start a relationship, they decided to keep him private for at least a while.

Being able to enjoy your boy, without having people who are continually criticizing what they were doing, is beautiful.

It was beautiful, but at the same time stressful, having to go out and do everything secretly, stopped being something fun, after the first few months.

Were you willing to put up with it? Yes, because you enjoyed every moment with Jack.

But… As in most cases, there was a very big but, you liked privacy and everything that came with it, but… At the same time you wanted to be able to show off a little about your relationship.

(…)

One night while having dinner at Jack's house, it seemed that the two wanted to talk about it.

For a few weeks, Jack had begun to imagine, how you would look in the area for relatives at games, wearing his number, with his family.

J- there is something I want to talk to you about. You could notice your boyfriend somewhat nervous, you did not know if as much as you were, but you could notice it.

Y/N- it seems that we think the same, I must also mention something, but since you mentioned it, tell me. You cheered him up.

J- for a few weeks, I've been thinking about it and I would like us to make it public, I would like to see you in the games using my number, that you are with my family cheering me, if you think I am filling too much fast, please tell me.

Y/N- I don't know how, worse you've read my mind, I know we enjoy our privacy, but I think it's getting stressful and I know you want to protect me from the press, but believe me that little will matter what they say, as long as we are together.

Taking his hand at the table.

Y/N- we can also remain private, only now everyone will know.

J- for a moment I thought you would say no.

Y/N- oh, believe me, as much as I value our privacy, I'm not going to miss the opportunity to show off my boy.

J- nor I to my girl. You knew he was very capable.

That night he went to bed with the agreement that little by little they would start posting about each other on their instagram and maybe after going publicly to one of their parties they would make an official post.

(...)

Several instagram posts later, they could see how you were welcomed by people, some Jack fans thanked you for the photos you posted of him, which seemed funny to you and there were also some hate comments that they clearly chose to ignore.

----------------------------

ANOTHERS

Mommy and Daddy - John Stones x Reader

The Best Kept Secret - Arthur Leclerc x Reader

[c0smoos--xx]

lookism oc bio raaahhh!!

★ — yunho's masterlist

DISCLAIMER !!

My OC is just a triplet of a canon character. It's something I've had in mind for some time now and it's not very creative in my opinion, but I love this goober too much to just throw him somewhere in the pits of my mind. This is just a basic introduction thingy, I'll post his story once I've finished writing it!

basic info

NAME: Yunho*

AGE:**

17 (Chapter 1)

18 (Chapter 121)

19 (Chapter 531)

GENDER: Male

*I haven't found Eugene's or Yuseong's surnames so far, so his name will just be Yunho

**Used Korean age. Calculated Eugene's age, comparing it to Goo's age (16 in Chapter 421, stated by Tom Lee to be 19 in Chapter 295) and Daniel's age (using the chapters whenever he mentions he starts a new school year). Correct me if I'm wrong.

relatives

Unnamed Father (OC)

Unnamed Mother (OC)

Yuseong (Older Triplet Brother)

Yoojin / Eugene (Older Triplet Brother)

medical condition

Yunho has Congenital Insensitivity to Pain (CIP).

physical appearance

Although Yunho looks identical to Yujin and Yuseong, there are subtle differences. He has freckles, like Yuseong, and wears glasses, like Yujin (though Yunho's is horn-rimmed and Yujin's is round). His fringe is long enough to cover his eyes. He has a built physique and scars all over his body.

personality

Yunho is very quiet and reserved, almost always speaking not more than a few words at a time. He's socially inept, awkward, and very straightforward. He has a hard time expressing his opinions and what he wants, preferring to be given orders in fear of doing something wrong.

It took him a while, but after spending some time with Eugene, Yuseong, and Mandeok, he began to open up and express himself more.

He's slowly back to his usual self— rough, brash, energetic, yet fiercely loyal to his brothers, although he doesn't agree with what Eugene's whole business is and tries to make him change a few things about it now and then.

favourite things to do

Writing random words in his notebook with the colorful pens Eugene got him

Eating

Nature watching

Following his brothers around

fighting style

Yunho doesn't have any specific martial arts he practices. His fighting style consists of badly imitated techniques and moves he's seen over the years.

While his form and techniques are bad, his strength and speed are more than enough to make up for it. He tends to start his fights by enduring hits from his opponents, during which he analyses their strengths and fighting style before attacking them back in a way he thinks is most efficient.

strongest feat

Yunho's strongest feat is his inability to feel pain and his speed. That, and his insane amount of stamina and fast reflexes that allows him to fight for long periods of time with minimal injuries— something he had worked very hard to achieve.

weakness

His inability to feel pain is a double-edged sword. Yunho could fight without the limitations of physical pain. Unfortunately, he wouldn't know when to stop. He wouldn't know when his body has reached its limits until it's too late.

There had been several times when he had near-death experiences due to this. Yunho knows how dangerous it is, thus why he trained his stamina and reflexes as best he could to avoid any risks.

Yunho's tendency to analyse and ensure hits, too, has risks, for he may be knocked out immediately or weakened greatly if the opponent is unexpectedly strong.

[cherrari]

would you say charles’ throttle technique is why he’s so fast?

i feel like i didn't explain myself well enough in the initial post (and also made a few critical typos like accidentally saying lando prepared the exit worse lol)... so that's my bad 😞

but no i don't, unless you consider his own comfort a part of the technique. the biggest differentiator is confidence. there probably is some "raw" lap time gained on certain tracks when he executes it correctly (e.g. austria, baku), but i believe the majority of it is that charles is most comfortable relying on the throttle -> when he is allowed to do this properly, he drives better because he's in a better state of mind. this is why i noted when he isn't confident he's inevitably going to lose time because he's added another factor in to struggle with when he's already struggling.

this is just looping back to why charles prefers a car with a stable front, and why one with a stable rear has been chipping away at his confidence. the summary is entering a corner with too much speed is prone to either a) inducing understeer, or b) causing the front tires to lock up. 9/10 turns of a track charles enters with more speed relative to other drivers; when the car can handle this, like i said, yes, this would be an advantage. but the post-sg spec sf-24 often can't handle this and so every corner he is fighting the car. most of the time he wins this fight, and he's gotten good at correcting the car so often he gains time compared to the drivers not taking any risks. but having to fight at all is a detriment

also because so many people have been getting mad at me for talking about charles' bad sessions: charles is the second best driver on the grid. we are scrutinizing the tiniest mistakes in his laps on purpose. i'm only pointing out why he's struggled more recently, and this is not me making this up out of nowhere, this is something he has confirmed like four times since austin. he wasn't going up to +10 on the fw flap for fun, he was doing it because he couldn't drive the base spec of the car competently without changing how he drives—that's a lot more difficult than changing the front wing angle

(+10 is legitimately criminal btw, most drivers ask for +1, maybe 2. charles was out here asking for 4 at a time and even then he was still unhappy 😭)

tl;dr: it's not good or bad

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Main Story: Part 4 - Act 13: Budding Spring - Episode 15: Ketchuped Thoroughly

Employee A: I apologize for the inconvenience.

Employee A: We are doing relatively well in English-speaking countries and Asia, but this region is difficult and not a lot of people within the company can help…

Employee A: I’m considering out-sourcing, but I have yet to receive approval. Please at least correct the parts that don’t make sense through machine translation.

Chikage: I can do this much quickly, it’s alright.

Chikage: …

[Keyboard keys clicking]

Chikage: (Is this the last one?)

Chikage: — —

Chikage: (... Same last name? I’m starting to develop a bad habit of reacting on reflex.)

-

Tsumugi: It’s been a while since the voting period started, but the notifications for debut performances don’t seem to be letting up.

Kazunari: There are still a lot of announcements about new theater companies being formed and member recruitments~

Kumon: Oh yeah. A kid in my class also said they wanted to try acting.

Tsumugi: As more people are exposed to theater, more of them want to try it out.

Tenma: And because of the SNS voting, more and more companies are focused on online distribution.

Omi: While working on a photoshoot the other day, I met someone who works in the video industry, and they said they suddenly got a lot busier.

Yuki: There’s also comments from overseas on online reviews.

Tasuku: As they said in the press conference, the New Fleur Award is revitalizing the world of theater.

Azuma: That’s amazing, considering it’s only just begun.

Sakyo: Yukio-san’s the kind of person to be smack-dab in the eye of the storm when it comes to theater. 

Guy: He has gotten busier as the award gains more attention. He has been doing a lot of interviews together with Kamikizaka.

Sakyo: Well, I’m sure Reni-san’s handling that part just fine.

Yuki: The reviews on En.com are also increasingly rapidly, but there’s a lot of bad ones.

Yuki: Even plays by famous troupes and screenwriters have comments like, “They spoke too fast, and I didn’t understand a thing, the costumes were cute tho”.

Yuki: There’s also, “I didn’t understand why, but they suddenly broke into contemporary dance. It was interesting overall, however.”.

Azami: Honest but harsh, huh.

Sakyo: They probably don’t understand the artistic beauty of theater and are just sharing their first impressions of it.

Tsuzuru: They’re interesting to read, but it’s scary to think how that might be us next time.

Sakuya: I wonder what they’ll say about us…

Izumi: Don’t think about it so much and get discouraged. We’ll be fine if we do things as we usually do.

Itaru: Tru. If we worry about it too much and worry our fans, we’ll be putting the cart before the horse.

Yuki: It’d be a good idea to keep review checking in moderation.

-

Yuzo: Good morning.

Tsuzuru: Good morning.

Sakuya: Good morning! Thank you for today!

Izumi: Sorry for calling you here when you’re also busy with your own troupe.

Yuzo: I don’t mind.

Itaru: Have you thought of any strat for the New Fleur Award, Yuzo-san?

Yuzo: We’re just gonna do what we usually do. The pre-voting stung, though.

Izumi: MANKAI Company came up 70th.

Yuzo: We got 103rd.

Sakuya: Lower than us!?

Tsuzuru: Even though you sell out all your tickets and have a loyal following…

Yuzo: Most of our fans are pretty old.

Yuzo: There’s probably people who didn’t know about the pre-voting, or they just didn’t know how to participate.

Yuzo: It seems like it’ll be an uphill battle, but all we can do is be ourselves.

Yuzo: Well, this round ain’t over. We’ll go at our own pace, with no rush.

Yuzo: Still, Yukio-san threw a curveball at us like he always does. I’m always amazed at what he can come up with.

Izumi: Haha… You can say that again.

Yuzo: Alright. If you’ve finished getting ready, let’s start.

Sakuya: Yes! Thank you very much!

-

Yuzo: …

Izumi: What do you think…?

Izumi: (It’s been a while since I last felt this nervous…)

Yuzo: Hah… As rough as ever.

Yuzo: Since it’s a sequel to your debut performance, your interpretation of your characters is good. What you’re lacking on is spirit.

Yuzo: And Tsuzuru, you’ve still got your doubts about the script, so you can’t concentrate on acting it out, yeah?

Tsuzuru: … Yes.

Yuzo: The rest of you guys are too caught up in wanting to put on a good show in order to produce good results for the ranking.

Yuzo: Having to put on a good performance is common sense. I’m sure you guys understand that by now.

Yuzo: So, you need to think about what you want to convey and achieve through this performance on top of that.

Yuzo: Do you want a better place in the rankings, or do you want to show how much you’ve grown…

Sakuya: — —

Yuzo: It’s not a bad thing to want the audience’s reception to be positive, obviously. But if that’s all you’re aiming for, then this is all just a way to earn points.

Yuzo: All your thoughts will be things like, “if we do this we’ll get more popular and get more points” and “if we do that we’ll get extra points”. But what we’re doing here is theater, not a competition.

Yuzo: What is you guys’, what is the Spring Troupe’s acting all about? Who are you doing it for? For what purpose?

Yuzo: You’re doing a sequel for your debut play. What did that debut mean to you guys?

Yuzo: If you’re going to go through with this, wouldn’t it be a good idea to discuss and re-evaluate your origins?

Yuzo: …Heh, but do so with some self-discipline, yeah?

Izumi: (I wonder if Yuzo-san also has various concerns regarding the New Fleur Award?)

Izumi: (No, I’m sure troupes other than Yuzo-san’s do too… It’s not just us.)

Izumi: (What role should our theater company have in this world of theater that is rapidly changing in front of our eyes…)

Izumi: (We may have to re-evaluate the direction we’re headed in.)

-

Citron: It’s been a while since he ketchuped us so thoroughly~

Masumi: Criticized us so thoroughly?

Itaru: But he’s upped his kindness levels recently.

Chikage: Doesn’t that mean he approves of us?

Masumi: But the parts that are no good have become much harder to fix.

Sakuya: That’s true… We can’t come up with an easy answer this time. Our acting… Our origin…

Tsuzuru: It’s surprisingly difficult to just be ourselves.

Chikage: Probably because we’re the ones who understand ourselves the least.

Izumi: We chose to make a sequel of our debut performance with the intention to go back to our roots and remember our beginning…

Izumi: So, what do you think was the best thing about the original RomiJuli?

Sakuya: Honestly, I think I was pretty bad at acting. All I had going for me was how badly I wanted to act.

Tsuzuru: Though those feelings of yours haven’t changed.

Sakuya: Yes! If anything, I love and treasure acting even more now.

Masumi: So, we have to find what our current selves are “lacking”.

Itaru: I do feel like my current self is more absorbed in acting than I was back then.

Chikage: Our bonds have deepened, and we’ve all leveled up.

Citron: I can not think of anything we’re lacking~....

Masumi: But I understand what Yuzo’s saying.

Tsuzuru: Right… He’s also right about me still doubting the script.

Chikage: A difference from our debut performance, huh… For better or worse, it’s no longer our “first time” acting.

Itaru: You mean, like our freshness has disappeared? I guess a writer’s debut work always has a certain kind of oomph to it.

Sakuya: A “beginning” only comes once, so it’s not something we can replicate…

Tsuzuru: So in a sense, we’ll never be able to surpass our debut performance…?

Itaru: Sad but true.

Masumi: Something that can’t be surpassed despite our growth…

Itaru: A “first time” and the image of innocently rushing forward both have a certain kind of impact.

Sakuya: Hmmm…

Izumi: …

Izumi: (Everyone’s mood dampened.)

Izumi: Let’s put this on hold, think about it individually, and then have another meeting.

Tsuzuru: ‘Kay.

Itaru: … Good idea.

[Phone vibrating]

Sakuya: Oh–

Izumi: The meeting’s over, so it’s okay if you go out.

Sakuya: I’m sorry, please excuse me.

[Sakuya walks out]

Sakuya: — —Hello, This is Sakuma speaking.

Sakuya: Ummm, I’m sorry. About that…

Iv: long af maint shiki: i’ve got a test tomorrow, so i might not be on much Iv: we start on thurs Kar: gl Iv: aren’t you also starting soon Kar: been at it since the day before ytd Iv: oh you already did shiki: you’re so chill about it momo has entered the chat Kar: sup shiki: you’re late today Iv: have your tests started too? momo: i ran away from home Kar: sudden mood shift lmao

previous episode | masterpost | next episode

[cryptidsurveys]

Wednesday, July 10th, 2024.

What time do you wake up most mornings? I already gave a detailed rundown in a recent survey, so I'll just go with between 5-6am.

Do you enjoy your job? If unemployed, are you content being so? I don't have a job, but I do volunteer part time at an animal shelter. It gives me a sense of purpose + passion, the work is relatively straightforward, I get to be around cats, and it helps me fill my socialization quota.

What is something you have given a lot of thought to lately? How much I've changed, especially over the past year. It's hard to put it into words without it becoming a novel, so I'll just go with the basics. The biggest thing is that I'm no longer acutely suicidal. I can't say I'm 100% "in the game," but at least I'm here for the foreseeable future, lmao. My emotional reactions have decreased drastically in their intensity. I'm better at facing my fears and being self-disciplined. I'm better at navigating the social landscape (and occasional minefield) that is the animal shelter. I'm kinder to myself. Etc.

However, one thing I can talk about in more detail is how I relate to other people. I used to be pretty terrified of them, and I gave them so much power. A less than positive or awkward interaction; a sense of being excluded, unwanted, or not good enough; comparisons that led to feeling incredibly less-than; the fear of my own reactions making a mess of things - it would all have me crawling back to my comfort zone of isolation. I guess I thought being around others was just painful and pointless. But I stuck it out. I tried going back to my "grade school" approach, which was to be quiet, kind, and helpful - "a joy to have in class" - and I leaned on the assumption that most people would probably like me, appreciate me, or at least tolerate me. Basically, I was a people-pleaser, praying that it would be enough.

Fast forward, time lapse, whatever. A blur of days. I can't say my fears were entirely dispelled. In fact, some of them were even (indirectly) confirmed. Sometimes people are awful, cruel, petty, untrustworthy, etc. But it doesn't bother me as much as it once did. My people-pleasing tendencies have abated somewhat - at least to the point where I can consider living more for my own sake, rather than making choices based on external praise and validation. Instead of being afraid, I find myself simply weary and unfulfilled. I don't care about over-pleasing these people because I don't actually care about them. And since I don't care about them, I don't really mind if they don't care about me either. It's more nuanced than all of that, ofc, but this is already becoming the novel I said it wouldn't. TLDR; instead of telling me that my fears were unfounded, I wish someone would have told me, "everything you feared is correct, but one day it won't matter anymore." And now I have to figure out how I'm going to relate to others now that a good portion of the pressure is off.

Do you have any tattoos? Do you want any/more? I have a few. I don't want more at this time.

What is your favourite Christmas movie? Hmm, maybe A Christmas Carol.

What do you get complimented on the most? I don't really get complimented on much of anything.

If money was no object, where would you move to? Maybe Beulah or Rye. I'd get to be in the mountains, but within reasonable driving distance of the animal shelter + the conveniences/services of my current city.

Do you believe in soul mates? No. I don't think there's just one person out there perfectly made for me (and me for them), but I still use the term in a casual way.

If you could wake up tomorrow and be fluent in 3 additional languages, which would you choose? Maybe Japanese, Swedish, and Spanish.

Would you rather go on a relaxing beach type holiday to the Caribbean, a cultural holiday to Japan or an adventure packed holiday to South Africa? A cultural holiday to Japan.

Who are the three most important people in your life? My dad, my mom, and my best friend. Honorable mention to my therapist.

Would you sacrifice everything for love? What would that even entail, like…in practice…in reality…in any sense of…whatever..?

Have you ever been in love? It's debatable.

Where do you see yourself in 10 years? Hopefully in my own apartment, employed at the animal shelter, maybe fostering some kitties, finally independent, etc.

Are you scared of the future? Yeah.

What’s the last reason you held someone’s hand? I'm not sure.

Are you lonely? Be honest. In some ways, but I'm no longer miserable, desperate, etc. I'm just kind of like, eh, it is what it is. I'll survive.

Listening to anything? No.

Last thing said out loud? Possibly "love you" to my dad.

Last thing bought? Gas on the way home from therapy earlier.

Last text received? It was from the cattery lead at the animal shelter. She texted me the other day so I could have her number/she could have mine - just in case they need to reach me on sudden notice, like if someone calls out and they need me to fill in, etc.

What has made you happy today? Lots of little things, but right now, my sweet little Esther kitty curled up on my lap. <3

What has made you sad today? Thinking about my cats getting older. They're supposed to live forever, damn it!

What room are you in? My bedroom.

Last thing eaten? A chicken Ceasar salad.

Last thing you drank? Water.

Rate your day on a scale of 1-10: 7.

What websites do you have bookmarked? Blah.

Last reason you kissed someone? Hmm.

Do you have an iPhone? No.

Do you bite your nails? If so, do you wish you didn’t? No, but I do pick at them, one in particular. I do wish I could stop.

Last pair of shoes you wore? I'm actually not sure what brand they are. Just a cheap pair that I bought at Walmart a couple of months ago because my Merrell hiking shoes were pretty much falling apart.

Last movie you watched? Arthur the King.

Name something you’re grateful for. A stable/safe living situation.

Are you wearing anything that’s not yours? No.

Do you shop at Urban Outfitters? No.

Have you ever experienced an earthquake? No.

If you were in the hospital, do you think any of your exes would come see you? No.

Would you rather read an entire encyclopedia or an entire dictionary? Encyclopedia.

Are you doing anything important tomorrow? Volunteering. Possibly going to lunch with my parents.

Do you like your phone? Yeah.

Would you move out your house if you could right now? Under the right circumstances.

Can you whistle? Yeah.

When was the last time you slept in someone else’s bed? I'm not sure.

Do you like being called baby? Not really. I guess I don't hate it, but I prefer other pet names/terms of endearment.

Would you rather drink orange juice or milk? Orange juice.

Do you wish you could kiss someone right now? No.

Do you hate when people interrupt your sleep? Yesss. Sleep is such a struggle for me and I really suffer if I don't get enough of it, so important interruptions only, please!

Are there any movies in the theater that you want to see? I don't know what's in theaters atm.

Do you miss the way things used to be between you and someone else? Ehhhh.

What do you think of your best friend’s ex? My best friend has been with their current partner for a loooong time, and idk who they dated, if anyone, before that.

How long would you wait to say “I love you” in a relationship? Fvck if I know. I'd have to actually be in that situation to say for sure.

If you had a child at the age you’re at now, do you think you’d be a good parent? No. It has nothing to do with my age and everything to do with my personality.

Do you like to be out with friends or stay at home? I'm a homebody. Plus, my only friend lives in California.

When was the last time you felt tempted to do something you shouldn’t? Did you do it? A few weeks ago, while driving to the animal shelter. I passed by a hitchhiker and his dog. I was feeling kind of burned out and was like, wtf, maybe I should pick this guy up and go on an adventure! And NO, ofc I didn't do it. A stupid daydream is one thing, but actually picking up a random stranger is another. ;D

What year was it five years before you were born? 1984.

What holiday is closest to your birthday? St. Patrick's Day.

What is your name if you spell it without the letters “e” “y” and “t” Halli.

What year is the oldest car you or your family owns? 2008.

Who is your 9th contact in your phone? N/a.

Have you had your birthday yet this year? Yes.

Why did you go to the doctor the last time you went? Just a check-up.

How old will you be in 5 years? 40.

How about in 20? 55.

Where was the last place you went? Therapy.

Is there a mirror in your room? There is.

Do you have a twin? No.

[sharonhatestorun-blog]

"Is that a banana in your pocket?"

A Marathon After Action Report

Sorry for such a delayed posting - I wanted to wait for some pictures to arrive and was also trying to process the experience into the correct words. I don't know that I can but, in brief, it was fantastic!

A beautiful weather day, a relatively painless experience to the start village and the company of inspiring friends kicked off the day. I started off according to the pace plan but inadvertently sped up once I hit 4th avenue and the cheering crowds. This too-fast pace could have spelled disaster, but luckily at mile 4 I ran into a running buddy who pulled me back to the correct pace for the next 7 miles.

Now, bear in mind that due to my injury in September, I had never run more than 3 hours at a time. So, once I got to the Queensboro bridge the future was a complete unknown. I was told that people often break down there because there is so much more to run, or "hit the wall" at mile 20 in the Bronx, or ratchet down to a shuffle in the 90s on 5th avenue on the dreaded "ninja hill".

Guess what? No breakdowns happened, no walls were run into, and the ninja hill was merely a blip. Just a steady run, then walk, then run, then walk, repeat until I am handed a medal and a poncho.

What made the difference? My training, thanks to my coaches: Amy, Jim, Njomza, Alberto, and Aditi. My health, thanks to Sam at Finish Line PT. My preparation, thanks to everyone who shared their knowledge about running marathons with me. Lastly, all the folks who lined the course and cheered for complete strangers and, most importantly, YOU. If you were on the street with a sign, texting me words of support, emailing me from afar, commenting on a FB post or wishing me luck on a Zoom call, YOU carried me along the streets of NY.

Congratulations, WE just finished our first Marathon!

(and yes, with an uneaten banana in our pocket).

[nayialovecat]

My friend send me this bingo for fun.

I did it.

It's my results.

I need to explain myself X"D

Has a special interest that brings me lots of joy - At the moment it's the Aztecs and spiders, and I also have some "permanent" interests, like numerology (numbers in general), horoscopes, world mythologies… I have more X"D I love reading, watching, talking and finding new curiosities on these topics.

Makes random noises for fun - Oh yes. Sometimes I don't even know why I did it. I can suddenly start parodying well-known melodies (even unrelated to the topic of conversation), makes random roar or screech. Although my husband was most amused by the time I was walking through the kitchen and suddenly started walking in a dinosaur pose singing "velociraptor, velociraptor, velo-velo-velociraptor".

Gets along well with other autistic people - I can't say yes here, 'cause people are different. I like some, some piss me off. I like the least those who behave like me and have a similar character to me.

You've been called very smart/knowledgable before - I corrected my teacher when she made a mistake sometime in the first week of elementary school. I thought my peers were morons. Adults adored me and thought I was a genius, and I just read a lot. Yes, before I started elementary school.

Has fun researching your favourite topics - This question has already been asked, only written differently. I refer you to it.

Very skilled at your hobby / special interest - I have a problem with this question, because I don't consider myself very talented. But I think I'm quite good at what I do. Rate my drawings, film analyses or novel fragments for yourself.

Enjoys the company of animals more than people - For most of my middle school and high school years I said "I'm not a human, I'm a cat." I hated people so much and wished I was a cat. Now I have friends that I like, but if I had to choose company humans outside of my friends or any animals (except a wasps), I'd choose any animals. Especially if it was some cool millipedes or snails.

Eats the same food every day - Now I try to have a balanced diet, but when I was younger, I didn't mind eating the same soup or the same cutlets with potatoes and the same salad for a week. Now I almost always make sandwiches the same way. I have a few dishes that I like and I prepare them interchangeably. I'm reluctant to try new things, unless I have a spurt to do so. Rarely.

Likes plushies and other "childish" interested - I prefer watching cartoons than "serious" movies, I like collecting figurines or plushies (but now it's called being a geek), and to this day when I buy a kinder surprise egg for my daughter in a store, I buy a second one for myself (and a third one for my husband, so he wouldn't be sad).

Clothes MUST be comfortable - YES! YES ABSOLUTELY! And my mum never understood that so much, saying: appearance is important, a girl has to suffer sometimes to be pretty. That's when I decided I didn't want to be a pretty girl and for half of my childhood I wore camouflage clothes: combat pants, T-shirts, hoodies (much to my dad's delight).

Listen to music to shut your brain up - I don't really know what this point is about, but I can't function properly without music playing in the background. If I can't listen to music, I start singing myself. My mrs boss was very quick to agree to let me listen to music at work (I sing very bad, lol X"D).

Knows a ton of random fun facts - Did you know that tomatoes and bananas are berries - but raspberries are not? Or that female bonobos do sex for food and other material benefits (prostitution is not a human domain!)? In fact, relatively few spiders make webs. My favourite jumping spiders have no cribellum at all - they jump on their prey, they are intelligent, fast and aggressive predators. Love them.

Has an eye for detail - Again, it's hard for me to judge… I think so, because I can pay attention to some detail that others miss. This is the basis of the game of Dixit between me and my friend Titatotrix. But at the same time, I miss important details when someone shows me something. But I think generally yes.

Thinks "outside of the box" - Would I play so many point and click games if I was shit at it? X'D

Very punctual (good job!) - NO! I'm totally unpunctual, my friends know that and make appointments with me for an earlier hour than with themselves X"D Then I'm on time.

NEVER punctual - Yep. That's me.

Makes up lots of stories in your head - I regret that there is no technology that transfers my thoughts to paper or Word. So many ideas are lost forever. I've gotten through a lot of tough times just by escaping into my imagination and living my characters' lives instead of my own. Some days it was survival from the moment I got out of bed to the moment I could lie in bed again and continue plotting.

Likes being alone - Yes, I like it. Sometimes when I meet people I regret that I am not at home reading a book or playing a game. But at the same time I hate being alone. In this sense I'm totally like a cat.

Over-explains everything - Again, I don't know if this is true. But I know that when I started writing and went to a literary club, I was accused of writing too boring and detailed descriptions - cuz I couldn't stand the thought that someone might imagine my character or a situation even slightly differently than I did.

Watches/listens to the same movie/series/music over and over - When it comes to music, I can loop one song and listen to it until the ears of those around me start bleeding. I often prefer to watch a movie I know and like than to risk a new one. I love going back to series I like and watching them in their entirety or just individual scenes. I could quote my favourite cartoons as a child along with the characters, including imitating their tone.

People say you look angry or sad, but you are just vibing - Well, sometimes I sit and think about something and someone at work asks me "did something happen? did you hurt? why are you mad?". I don't know why. I understand if I'm thinking of a dramatic moment in the story, but that often happens when I'm just staring into space and not thinking about anything.

Will fidget with any object within reach - My hands can't rest still, especially when there are interesting things next to them. Scribbled and holed erasers, straightened paper clips, torn papers… Now we've got big sheets for our desks at work, so I scribble on them all the time.

Talks to yourself a lot - As an adult, I've learned to talk to myself in my head, not out loud, but I still haven't mastered not using facial expressions. People often are scared of me.

Gets VERY excited when someone starts talking about your special interests - Oh yeah, if the topic turns to something I'm interested in, I have a hard time sitting still or not interrupting people. I try to control it, but… damn, they're talking about what I know, and I know more than them and I can tell them about it! Hurray!

...

And did you know that doctors said I'm not autistic? Yep. I'm not.

[ellestrade]

The first time Tim had seen Damian, it was through red-tinted glass.

Everything about the boy had been so... Hostile. Violence lingers around the air that he breathes, and tragedy always follows his every footstep. Granted, Damian's tendency to attack him disappeared as fast as they come, yet he never really passed that judgement as his first impression of him.

Tim supposed that time was never really forgiving.

He sets himself apart from Damian, letting a permanent distance between them become, well, permanent. He never really minded when Damian used his surname in contrast to his actual name whilst addressing him— never correcting him because then their relativity is acknowledged, apparent to the world.

Even if Damian was technically his brother, in paper and in practice, actually admitting to that feels... Wrong. Blasphemous, even.

However, looking back now, he shouldn't have condemned the boy for utmost isolation.

"Where are you going?" He asked— it was Saturday afternoon, a little bit past lunch. Tim hadn't had anything to do, doesn't feel like cooking, so he decided to crash in the manor for a bit.

As usual, Damian makes himself scarce; he didn't interact with Timothy much past the expected pleasantries, only exchanging a few hellos and greetings over silently passing the plates to one another. Tim takes it that the younger doesn't want to fill him in on anything that he's been up to, which won't be much considering that...

That...

...

What has he been up to, lately?

"I'm going out with a few acquaintances of mine," Damian responded, as if stating an obvious fact, as if Tim was supposed to know this when in reality Tim wasn't even aware that the brat had somehow made friends— because when did that happened?

Last he knew, Damian was still being homeschooled by Alfred, and such curriculum doesn't provide an actual experience in social interactions other than his family.

"Huh?" He gaped, mentally slapping himself for giving such inappropriate reactions. He's happy for Damian, truly, but he's more aghast over the fact that he didn't know. Despite everything, Damian is still his little brother. The least he could do is know what kind of crowd he decided to mingle in. "Sorry, that came out weird. When— who are your friends? And when did you guys meet?".

Damian clicked his tongue. "If you must know, we're not friends. They all just so happened to be more involved in my life than anticipated," he claimed, "But they're all nice people, I suppose. Mizoguchi, Wilkes, Kane, Ducard, and of course, Jon. I met them through separate circumstances, but majority of them are now eligible to be called my schoolmates."

Tim blinked, and suddenly that red-tinted glass was gone.

He's now being embraced with an image of a teen— gone was the 10-year-old whose hands were tainted in blood, who screams bloodied but desperate. Now, there stood Damian, 16 years of age, and is almost a different person.

This is Damian, his little brother, and he's growing.

Without his knowledge, nonetheless, and he supposed outside of everyone else's too.

"Oh," Tim hummed, but his heart fell— he had promised that he'd be better, when the boy in front of him died in the most tragic way possible, so so young and so so alone.

The lump in his throat grew heavy when he realized that Damian hadn't instigated in casual conversation with him not because he was arrogant or doesn't have anything to offer, but because Tim had grown so estranged to him that he doesn't know how to reconnect.

"Right— cool cool cool. You, uh, have fun," he said, but he doesn't even know what he was wishing for. "Say hi to them, for me."

Tim could've sworn he heard Damian murmured, 'You don't even know them,' but the other nodded nonetheless. "Alright," he said, before turning his heels and walking away.

The glass is now shattered, and the aftermath of seeing the world as it was is brutal.

I have this fic idea in my head and can’t get rid of it sooo

I’m making it everyone’s problem

Okay so everyone’s kinda living their life

Tim’s basically a ceo

Dick and Jason are full add adults they spend a lot of time away from the manor

Bruce is obviously always busy

And then you have Damian

I just I need a fic of the family realizing oh shit the kid grew up

Like night wing ,red hood are like hey it’s not worth it let’s crash at the manor and Tim so happens to be there and Damian walks by and they all double take cause that’s not the little murder assassin they first met

I’m talking like Damian’s 16 now ,he has after school things before patrol ,he’s quiet and a little more mature then when he first arrived

He’s healed a bit ,he’s growing as a person

Like imagine the look on Jason’s face when Damian is almost to his chin now

How his features matured too

Damian drives now

Dick watching Damian handle situations in a more level headed way

Tim realizing he doesn’t seem to be at his throat anymore

And I feel like it’s the kinda thing where Damian is used to them not noticing at this point

But it also makes everyone realize how they’ve missed out on watching him grow up and they all decide to hang out with each other a bit more

And Bruce is just happy to see his boys together for a bit

Pleaseeee someone write this

[molotovmetro]

Hello there!

Hope you're doing good, enjoying your life!

I just had a beautiful (and tiring) day with my boyfriend, we went to ski and then an idea pops in my head.

COD boys + Los Vaqueros + König (yes i need my babygirl) with Male Reader who teachs them how to ski in Montreal! (or wherever you want, i'm just a proud canadian)

You can make it as a headcanon or short story. And hope you can enjoy doing it, if you're not confy with it, fine by me.

Have a wonderful day/night and don't forget to drink water. Ciao!

That sounds like such a good time!

I didn't specify a place in any of these except König's, but where I live Austria and Switzerland are the most common ski vacation destinations so most of what I know about skiing is based on that so I hope it's not too different

I hope you don't mind I left out Rudy for now, I really need to replay the game to get a better grip on his character. That being said this is my first time writing for COD so I'm still working on my characterization a little.

Thank you for requesting :)

Warnings: none! Except for possible inaccuracies because I've never been skiing

M!reader

Being taught to ski by the 141 + Los Vaqueros + König

Ghost

Ghost is in his element. A ski piste is one of the only places in day to day life where a balaclava doesn't stand out.

It's nice to not draw the attention for once.

Would like to try snowboarding as well.

He probably picked up skiing once for a job, so he knows what he's doing relatively well.

Ghost is a man of few words, so he's probably not going to give you long winded explanations. He'll explain the basics, do a little demonstration, and then let you try it and correct where needed.

Its a little impersonal at times, but it's effective. If you look closely though, you might notice the soft look in his eyes.

Soap

Soap is mostly looking forward to the Après-ski.

A day of having fun with you in the snow and then ending it with a party or just a cozy couple of drinks together, it's perfect to him.

Soap finds a lot of pleasure in the little things. Some fun activities, sneaking some spiked hot drinks, and some good food, and he's the happiest man on earth.

He barely knows what he's doing himself, but he makes up for it in enthusiasm. You'll figure it out together as you go!

It's a small miracle neither of you got hurt.

Price

Price really deserves the vacation.

Like Soap, he's looking forward to tiring himself out during the day and then relaxing with good food, a couple of drinks, and a cigar in the evening.

Also picked up the skill for a job, but mastered it.

This man is used to training soldiers, so he's a good teacher. His rookies definitely don't get the soft treatment you do, though. He's all praise and encouraging smiles.

He's surprisingly relaxed out here. As busy as he is with work, he cherishes any quality time he gets with you.

Gaz

This man has no idea what he's doing.

Gaz has no intention of breaking a leg however, so he'll go the extra mile to hire a professional teacher.

He's a fast learner though, and he will tease you about it. All in good nature of course.

"Aw, c'mon, love. It's not that hard."

It is. It is that hard.

He'll use his advantage to help you a bit, and the instructor is probably rolling his eyes a little at his horrible flirting.

You get your revenge later when you get to laugh at him as he takes a tumble.

Alejandro

Alejandro doesn't have the most experience either, but he knows what he's doing relatively well.

He takes the opportunity to float with you, making suggestive comments between compliments and getting a little handsy while correcting your stance.

Expect a lot of showing off. He's trying to impress you.

König

Ski King.

Austria is known for its ski tourism. You're in König's domain now.

He's a great teacher, but can be a little impatient. Not that he would get irritated with you, but he's just so excited and can't wait to start!

He'd teach you the very basics, everything you need to know to have fun and don't die, and then he'd figure you'll get a grip on it as you go.

Even despite his impatience, he'd still be considerate. Especially at first, he'll start off only going short distances before stopping to check in on you, only feeling comfortable going further after making sure you're good.

He's as chaotic out there as he is on the field. It's incredibly amusing and kind of endearing to see him enjoy himself like that.

[ontheblock]

reader is a spy getting info on orochimaru and is working for the leaf. orochimaru knows obviously (cannot hide anything from this in my mind LMAO) and he plays along until he seduces reader and just ends up telling them he knew from the very beginning, maybe she’ll just end up as one of his experiments now. PLEASE OK THIS SOUNDS DUMB NOW but anyways i 💗 ur writing, thank u so much <33

this took such a long time and i‘m still so unhappy with it but i don‘t have the time to rewrite it all and nghhh- i definitely missed the seduction but it‘s still somehow correct? idk man

little spy

warning: noncon, drugging, mind break, all the bad stuff

Tricking Kabuto was difficult. But difficult never meant impossible. Tsunade was reluctant with sending someone out to contact the man that so closely operated with her old team mate. The eldest rioted at her decision to send you. In their words, a female ninja was trained to seduce and assassinate. Close combat and dangerous missions were best suited for men. Naturally, Tsunade gave you the mission that same night. Promising regular reports, you departed before daybreak with nothing to your person but village neutral clothing and a little bit of money. Your plan was fool proof.

At first, the search was fruitless and Tsunade restless. You picked up leads and dubious information as you went. The best clue provided by a drunkard that recognized the description, dubbing Kabuto as a “weird little bastard“ but harmless. Reporting it to Tsunade, she brushed it off as an old man saying anything while intoxicated but you refused to leave any end untied. Your entire reputation was on the line with this mission. You would either return with the information you needed or not at all - because if you did, you would lose to the sleazy men talking Tsunade out of hiring you for the job.

It took days of searching but you met him at the most unconventional place you could think of. Kabuto lingered around a hospital in the outskirts of the Land of Sound. When you first saw him, your heart dropped into your stomach. You were nervous but kept recalling your training of keeping a straight face and a neutral energy. It wasn‘t nearly as difficult to approach the man. Sharing niceties and a fabricated origin story was enough to get him to consider your words. Using the last trump card you had - the name of an important informant - seemed to at least convince him to take you seriously.

So for the next weeks, Kabuto arranged meetings with you alone, exchanging trivial information to build something akin to trust between moles. Neither of you even brought up Orochimaru. You were so close that you even cut contact with your village so nothing could even be traced back to you. You took every precaution in the book, used every dirty trick you learned from friend and foe.

And your patience would bear fruit. Sweet and ripe, because one day, you arrived at the scheduled rendezvous to find Kabuto in the company of another person. The skin shone bright and sickly under the rising moon. Almost artificially stretched across bone and muscle tissue, you could make out his veins even in the dim light. His arms were crossed over his chest, his stance was wide and sure but his face was covered in the shadow of a conical straw hat, tipped low to cover his eyes. They stood at a distance but even being far away, the sannin seemed taller than life. You swallowed and mellowed out your chakra flow.

“I hope you don‘t mind the company.“ Kabuto pushed his glasses higher on his nose bridge, eyeing you with intent to see hesitation. “That‘s fine. I‘ve heard about your company.“ Orochimaru chuckled but the sound was hollow and carried away with the wind. “Only good things, I hope.“ The hair on your neck stood at attention when he reached up to pick the hat off his head. “Good is relative.“ His eyebrows shot up his clinically smooth face. He seemed surprised by your answer - in a good way, you prayed. The expression smoothed out just as fast as it came and he nodded towards Kabuto. “Go on.“

You two talked about stolen knowledge, the very reason why Kabuto was here. Your medical understanding sure expanded with all the research you had to do to make this act believable. Orochimaru didn‘t speak. He just lingered so when the three hours were up and he silently departed with Kabuto, you were shaking with emotions. The next meeting was assumed to go over similarly. Except it didn‘t.

“I hope it doesn‘t bother you that Kabuto didn‘t make it.“

You were suspicious when a message ordered you to a public place like this - a tea house during the day. Orochimaru sat at a table with a cup already in hand. “Not at all.“ You sat across from the man, ordering a fresh brew for yourself to blend in. “Kabuto has talked highly of you. I thought it‘s about time I see this promising medic for myself.“ You forced a smile. “I‘m honored.“ He asked you many questions, the quick topic changes and fast paced questions gave you whiplash but at the end of the meeting he hasn‘t killed you so you took that as the sign that he was finally colored convinced. Convinced enough to offer you a place under his wing by the end of the night. “You don‘t have to decide now. I give you exactly five days to make a decision. If it‘s a no, we will never cross paths again.“ You thanked him, bowed to him even. Little did he know that you decided before even meeting him. You would take him down for good.

Five days couldn‘t have gone slower. With no real decision to dwell on, you were forced to drag the time along with you like a ball and chain. You studied up on medical info. Never in your life have you studied this intensely. Not even as a young child in school. It was draining and you were sure that being a real medic was hell on earth. You couldn‘t wait to leave all this behind you.

When day five came, a cloaked figure lead you towards what looked like a cave. A jutsu you couldn‘t catch with your eyes revealed a gate in the ground and the body disappeared in a gaseous cloud. A shadow clone. You swallowed as the gate opened with a stoney groan. You couldn‘t turn back now. Not after everything you did for this mission. So you went down the steps that lead you into an underground hallway. At the end of it, Orochimaru. “Did the journey here treat you well?“ His tone was off. You blamed it on the echo. “Yes.“ A hum and his hand found your shoulder. “Let‘s talk business, shall we?“

Orochimaru lead you through the lair, every hallway a carbon copy of the last. “In here“, he stopped in front of a door and slowly twisted the door knob, “are the scrolls I told you about.“ You swallowed but kept up with the man as he entered the lowly illuminated room. Said scrolls laid innocently on the shelves decorating the walls but what caught your attention were the floor to ceiling sized glass tanks with glowing pale liquid bubbling inside. Most tanks were empty except for three, containing a floating body on a fake umbilical cord connecting to the floor. The bodies were the size of a three year old child, none had any form of pigmentation or body hair. A cold sweat ran down your back. “Did they not tell you this little detail? The human experiments?“ You flinched hard, stumbling forward and away from his breath on your neck. “What-?“ You turned towards Orochimaru who just kept creeping closer until your back was against the glass tank. “You heard about me, haven‘t you? You seemed shocked.“ You blinked at him, clearing your throat and wiping your sweaty palms on your pants. “Oh. No. I- I just haven‘t seen something like this up close before.“ His eyes traveled from your face to the floating child behind you. “Feel free to observe. They were transferred from a womb to the tank. Fascinating, isn‘t it?“ You reluctantly turned your back to him to study the tank further. There were no labels and you could see the heartbeat through the almost translucent skin. “Yes… Fascinating.“ You tried to calm your nerves but Orochimaru was so close behind you.

“Say…“ You tried to be nonchalant but whenever he initiated conversation you were strung up like a spring. “How is Tsunade doing?“ The moment that name left his lips was the moment your world stopped spinning. Your mouth opened but you didn‘t produce any words. A hand snaked into your hair and slammed your face against the thick, warm glass. Your lung deflated with a pained gasp but Orochimaru pinned your body with his own and you could only brace yourself with your palms flat against the tank. “How-? When-?“ He laughed, lowering his head to your level. “The whole time. It‘s almost insulting that you think you tricked me for even a second.“ Tears gathered on your lash line and he tutted at you. “Tsunade must be getting old… Sending a little girl after me.“ With one hand firmly in your hair, the other made quick work of your clothes, ripping the sturdy material of your pants apart at the crotch. “No! Stop! Stop it!“ You bucked against the body behind you in an attempt to throw him off but it was like trying to contain the ocean in a bucket. “Let me go… I promise- I wh-won‘t say anything to- just-“ A harsh slap on your ass made you yelp. “You freak! You- You disgusting freak! Tsunade won‘t let you get away with this!“ You shrieked as a too dry finger pressed inside your pussy. “The leaf hasn‘t changed a bit I see. Their special forces are still all talk.“

You refused to cry for him, chewing the inside of your cheek bloody instead. Orochimaru pumped his too long finger inside you a couple of times, the friction felt like he was trying to dig your insides out. It hurt but you wouldn‘t cave under this. He seemed to agree because he quickly pulled back out again. “I wish I could collect samples from you first but it will do.“ Something blunt nudged against your hole and you clenched instinctively. “Stop, stop, no, no, no, you can‘t!“ You tried to shift your hips but didn‘t come far. The panic was blinding but the stretch of his cock thrusting into your unprepared pussy made your vision splotchy.

Your mouth hung open against the glass, clouding the smooth surface with your breath as Orochimaru pounded into you from behind. The hand in your hair ripped your head to the side far enough for Orochimaru to slot his lips against your and your protest got muffled by a thick tongue pushing into your mouth, licking across yours and slithering into your throat until you were gagging and clenching around the cock hitting your cervix in fear of asphyxiation.

The burning pain of flesh dragging against flesh deep inside you slowly shifted to a tingling flame. You gasped with effort. Every struggle became a chore as your chakra drained out your system and you became lightheaded. Shoving your face away, Orochimaru latched his lips onto your neck instead. “My- What did you do to me?“ Your speech slurred together like you were tipsy and the glass suddenly felt cold against your skin. A particularly aimed thrust made you moan and grind back against his pelvis. Horrified, you pressed your lips together. “Aphrodisiac. Have they taught you about that method of torture?“ You tried to place his words but it all just boiled down to the horribly slick feeling dripping down your thighs, the squelching of wet meat. “You‘re reacting so well. One might think you were a slut all along.“

But you weren‘t. You were just lured into his domain out of amateur eagerness to take down something too great for you. Being drugged changed nothing about the fact that you regretted not considering to contact Tsunade one last time.

Your knees buckled underneath you and if Orochimaru were to let go, you would surely crumbled on the floor at his feet. “But don‘t you worry. I will turn you into one anyway.“ With just enough pressure on your clit, you were coming and gushing around him, totally unaware that he filled you up with his seed.

——————

Orochimaru sent Kabuto out to Konoha to scope out the atmosphere. A spy disappearing for a month on a dangerous mission must be harsh on the hokage responsible for that big step.

While his underling was gone, Orochimaru took it upon himself to visit your cell. The metal door scraped against the rough ground but you didn‘t even register the sound. You were curled up on a mattress in the corner of the cell, naked and dazed. “K-037.“ You reacted to his hand combing your hair through his fingers, slowly turning to face him. The inside of your arms were bruised, every tiny spot a different stage of healing. “Lord?“ He grabbed the arm closest to him and pulled the prepped syringe from his robe. “Yes.“ A soft breath escaped you. By your expression alone, you seemed to only be able to focus on the man looming above you. The needle found a healthy vein in the crook of your arm and you didn‘t flinch. A dose amphetamines and synthetic hormones enlarged your pupils until it swallowed what used to be lively iris. Your breathing picked up and you melted into the mattress. Shrugging off his robe, he felt an excitement in his chest. Soon he would be able to fill up another tank.

As long as Orochimaru kept your system full of aphrodisiac, you didn‘t even need a name or a village. It was beautiful to reduce a human to their most animalistic state.

[luimagines]

He Accidentally Hurt You pt.2

Masterlist

Set platonically and within the group Part 1

Hyrule

Your blood was pounding as your feet carried you across the battle field.

Your hearing was rendered useless by the cause, you only thoughts were on Hyrule and getting to him before the hoard of monsters did. He had somehow gotten separated from the group in the struggle and was left to fend for himself.

You made contact.

The sword in your hand followed through your practiced movements, slicing all and any between you and your target.

You could hear him in the distance, you were close, you just had to get- just a little-

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and the air changed. The split second static was your only warning before lightning struck.

Monsters fell all around you but you failed to pay attention to that. Your attention was instead on the blinding, scalding twist in your arm that held your trusted blade. You couldn’t even find it in you to let go of the weapon, your muscles incapable to receiving orders.

The pain traveled through your arm and across your chest until it encompassed your whole being.

Screams tore through your throat without your knowledge and when the attack subsided, your whole body went rag doll and your vision went black.

“Please. Please. Please.” A voice whispered through the darkness. It was soft. Pleading. A blessed chill seemed deep into your bones and you found it within yourself to open your eyes.

Hyrule was crouched above you, tears in his eyes with shallow cuts across his tunic and exposed skin. Not a lot of blood though, your brain supplies. You take a relieved breath.

“Hey.” You croaked out in greeting. “Glad to see you’re ok. I was worried.”

“I didn’t know you were there.” He blurts as if he didn’t hear you. Maybe he didn’t. “I thought it was only monsters nearby. I don’t think I have enough magic to heal you completely. This is all my fault.”

“Fault?” You attempted to sit up. You succeed. Mostly.

A grunt leaves your mouth at the stiffness in your joints and you force yourself to power though to reach into your inventory.

A sniffle leaves your Traveler when you push his hands away when you find your target. The red liquid glints in the dying sunlight and you hand it out to him. “Think you can open it?”

He nods and pry's it open before you can even think about getting into a better sitting position.

You don’t think twice about taking the potion when he hands it back.

“Save your magic.” You say. “I’ll be fine.”

And you know you’re right....It’ll take a little more than that to convince the rest of the group when you get back though. Hyrule plans to smother you until not a single blemish is left. The others? Well... They’ll keep an eye on you.

Twilight

“Ten rupees says you can’t make that throw.” You hear Warriors say.

“Double it and I’ll gladly prove you wrong.” Twilight responds.

The book in your lap calls for attention more than whatever those two are doing for the sake of friendly competition. You don’t look up, trying to keep your eyes on the page but you can’t help the growing curiosity in the back of your head.

“What are we using to aim with?”

“That?”

“Sure.”

You roll your eyes and keep your head down.

“I’ll be twenty rupees richer and it’ll shut your mouth. Just watch.” Twilight grumbles.

There’s a tap and a growl before something comes at your head full throttle. It’s dense but not enough to keep it from exploding all into your hair and it knocks you over slightly.

You closed your book to protect it from the falling matter and reach at the spot. By your feet laying the offending object.

An apple.

They threw an apple at your head. Correction. Twilight threw an apple at your head.

The thoughts in your head spin a bit. Your whole head is throbbing but you doubt there’s any blood. You look up just in time to see Warrior and Twilight running at you as fast as they can. Twilight reaches you first and kneels next to you. “By Ordana, are you ok?”

His hands hover over you, trying to take in the damage without actually touching you.

“Who are you?” You blurt out, very quickly realizing that it was the wrong thing to say.

His face drops and Warrior wears a similar expression.

“Kidding.” A pained grin covers your face. “Take me to Hyrule please.”

“I’m so sorry.” Twilight reaches for you and you comply. Once you’re on your feet he speaks again. “Warrior messed up my shot and it hit you by accident.”

“That’s a weird way to say you lost a bet.”

You kick Warrior as payback.

Sky

“So...” You sit next to Sky during the break. “What are you planning to make this time?”

The boy next to you already had his whittling knife out and a decent sized chunk of wood in his lap. He picked it up and spun it a few times, staring into it as if he could already see the form inside it. It was just his job to take it out.

“I don’t know yet.” He admits. “Maybe it’ll come to me.”

You nod and let him work in relative silence, the faint but consistent sounds of Sky working next to you create a blissful and serene atmosphere.

The others are off doing their own thing, each keeping to themselves for the most part.

It’s nice.

“Actually, can you help me with this real quick?”

Your attention is back on Sky. He’s trying to get his knife out of the wood block, the outline of the shape he’s making already starting to form.

You don’t recognize it.

Sky picks up the knife and the whole block follows. “It got stuck.”

“How?” You raise an eyebrow and try to keep the smile off of your face.

Your response is only a shrug and the wood being thrust in your direction.

You grab it and instinctively tighten your grip on it when you feel Sky pull.

You both use your strengths to your advantage and pull in different directions. You feel the knife begin to slip out and adjust your grip. Within seconds the blade is free and you feel it cross the tip of your finger.

Instantly, the wood is dropped and you cradle your hand close to you, putting pressure on the injured digit.

“Ok, got it, thank- What happened?” Sky scoots closer to you and pulls your hands out.

A thin red line follows the length of your finger and it only seems to grow as the moments pass. It doesn’t feel deep but it certainly won’t let you flex your finger for a while.

A quite hiss leaves Sky’s lips. “Well that could’ve gone better. Sorry about that.”

“It could’ve gone worse too.” You press a little on the injury, trying to will the pain away.

It doesn’t work, but hey, you try.

“Hold on. I think I have some bandages in my pack.” Sky gets up and jogs to where most of the others are sitting. He picks up his bag and looks inside for a minute or two before jogging back to you.

A small role of bandages sits in his hand and when he reach for your hand, you don’t hesitate to give it to him.

As he’s working on your finger, you feel mild irritation bubble up in your throat. “This better not scar.”

“Why’s that?” Sky replies.

“It’ll be the lamest story.”

He laughs and finishes his work.

Time

Sometimes it surprised you how short everyone in the group was. You weren’t sure if it was a Link thing or one of the biggest coincidences of the universe because it certainly wasn’t just because they were Hylian (but that probably didn’t help).

That being said, and what you could gather from The Captain, it boggled your mind further that Time was the biggest of everyone. Warrior made it seem like he’d stay small forever, implying that Time was smaller still when he first defeated Gannon.

That didn’t seem very fair.

For him and you....well everyone, only Twilight and Warrior were the ones exempt from having to look up at the old man. But you didn’t like the idea of someone so small fighting such a beast, so Time is included in your sympathy list.

Despite his size, he seemed to move as silent as a mouse. Only Wild would be quieter than him.

After some time of traveling with them all, you realized he was just as much as a gremlin as the rest.

He was not above pranking the living daylights out of poor unsuspecting teenagers.

And the thing is, no one could catch him. Somehow he managed to get them to in the blame on each other but you knew better. You swore it had to be him. There was no way. There was no way he could count as a Link and not get into this kind of stuff.

But no one believed you.

It definitely wasn’t fair.

With the stage set, it’s safe to say now that you were calmly, peacefully and quietly minding your own business. You weren’t bothering anyone.

You were writing in your journal under a tree with some low branches. Nothing too bad but in terms of shade and angle, you found it to be the perfect resting place.

You took a deep breath in and let it out.

Yes, it was nice.

“BOO!”

You jumped as high as your reflexes you take you and spun around, but you had forgotten where you were in the moment.

With a solid thunk, your head hit the branch above you and sat back down, with a curse.

While there was laughter in the your reaction, it was cut off abruptly at the first sign of pain. “Oh jeeze, I’m sorry. How bad does it hurt?”

A whimper escaped your mouth before you could stop it and you closed your journal, choosing to furiously rub your hands against the now tender spot on the top of your head. “Ow Time. Why did you do that?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d move like that.” He moved your hands away and inspected the area for himself. “No bleeding. Doesn’t look like it’ll need a potion...”

“I blame you.” You grumbled. “This is your fault.”

“I can accept that.” He nodded and stepped back. “There’s not much we can do about it in terms of healing, but perhaps Hyrule would be willing to lend a hand.”

“No way. He’d ask how it happened and I’m not going to lie to him.” You pouted. “No one will believe me if I told them the truth.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s you!” You glared at him.

A tiny giggle escaped from the so called Old Man of the group, Mr. Stick in the Mud. Senor Buzzkill. “And why would that make a difference?”

“I cannot believe you... Actually yes I can, you were doing this on purpose the whole time.”

He laughed more fully this time and didn’t seem to let up.

With a pout, you picked up your book and marched away.

One day you’ll get back at him. You just had to figure out how and when.

Four

“So, how do we play this game again?” You picked up the ball one of your companions took out. It was almost the size of your head and had crisscrossing lines. It was white and weighed less than you originally thought.

It was a relatively slow day and no one felt in the mood to dampen it by looking for trouble.

While Twilight and Warrior set up the net that was supposed to go with it, the rest were waiting and going over the rules.

“Just hit the ball over the net. You can’t the ball twice in a row, someone else has to hit it and if it touches the ground you lose the point.”

“Seems simple enough.” Wild takes the ball from you and tosses it a few times.

It takes a while for all the appropriate moves to be demonstrated but you all play the game with ease.

You were having a good time with your friends. Everyone was actually getting along for a change. With a smile on your face, you waited for the moment that would inevitably change.

You swore you could almost pin point when it happened.

With Four right across from you, his sudden change in stance gave away the glint in his eyes.

The ball came to him and he jumped up, higher than you thought he could and spiked.

Next thing you knew, you were on the ground, stunned and slightly disoriented and your face was hurting.

Four ran to your side as the game was halted. “That... was not what I was intending.”

“You don’t say... Can I step out for a minute?” You asked, trying to get your feet. Four helped you get away from the battle field- I mean, the game area and helped you sit back down against a nearby tree.

“Sorry about that.” He smiled apologetically. “Anything I can do to help?”

You looked up at him hopefully. “Lose the game?”

“Not a chance.”

[r0zyp0zy0zy]

Haikyuu!! Prompt list trial

HQ!! Prompt list

Words: 3000+ {oops it was meant to be 1000}

Warnings: smut! First time, nervous Yamaguchi, Tsukki bein a wingman?

Pairing: Yamaguchi Tadashi x FEM!reader

Prompt(s): 1 & 4

PART 2 IS HERE

I LOST THE ASK!! But I did copy it down so.. also this was A LOT longer than I intended

"heh, you're awfully close— a-are we going to kiss now?" And "AH! I'm sorry, I'm sorry— I didn't mean to!" With Yamaguchi please? (I was thinking maybe a first-time scenario mayhaps? It's ok if it's not!) thanks!

Yamaguchi never thought that he would be in this situation, ever. To be fair, it was mostly Tsukkishima's fault that this was about to happen. Yamaguchi probably should've kept his mouth shut about being jealous that Tsukki had lost his virginity, mostly because he forgot that Tsukki had no shame asking girls for sex; and also that he would do it for Yamaguchi. He honestly didn't even know how Tsukishima had convinced someone to hook up with Yamaguchi of all people.

"So remember when you told me you wanted to lose your virginity?" Tsukki picked at his lunch with a cheeky grin on his face.

"...yes? Why, it's not that big of a deal." Yamaguchi replied, scared of what his best friend was about to say to him.

"I got someone who wants to help you lose it," Tsukishima quirked a brow as he took a bite of his salad. "You interested?"

Yamaguchi choked on his sandwich, and he had to take a few minutes to get his food down his throat, "you- you what?!"

"Quiet, unless you want everyone in the cafeteria to know you wanna get laid," the blonde said carelessly. "So do you want to or not?"

"I-I..." Tadashi was speechless, trying to spit out a 'yes! Please yes!'. "Er, who is it?"

"Y/n," Tsukki smirked, watching his friend's mouth drop open in shock. "Careful, you'll attract flies."

"Y-you didn't straight up say that I wanted to have sex, right?!" Yamaguchi whispered.

"Nah, I just said that my buddy Yamaguchi hasn't lost his virginity yet and that I wanted to do him a favour because he's too shy and hopeless to talk to girls," Tsukishima mused. He watched the green haired boy in front of him have an existential crisis in the span of a few seconds before he gripped the sides of his own face.

"Is this real? You're not pranking me, right? You're not that much of an asshole," Yamaguchi worried in disbelief, crossing his fingers praying that his luck shone through.

"I wouldn't do that to you," Tsukishima reassured, "Hinata and Kageyama... maybe."

"Holy shit," Tadashi exasperated, "I hope to god that she's not pitying me. Or even worse! She'll come over and she'll make fun of me!"

"She will if you're into that," Tsukishima finished the last of his salad.

"You're not helping," Yamaguchi pouted, "I'm really worried."

"Yams, if I thought that she would do that than I wouldn't've asked her. Y'know, she told me that she thinks you're cute," The blonde packed up his lunch containers, "she also said that you're very sweet."

"What?!" Yamaguchi's eyes were as wide as saucers. Did she really? Is that really what she thinks of me?

"Yes. Pack up your shit, the bell's about to go," Tsukki pressed, throwing his bag over his shoulder.

So now Tadashi was in his bathroom a few hours before you were supposed to come over, his dad's electric razor in hand. He didn't exactly know how to angle his body so he could catch the falling hair on a paper towel, so he just sat himself on the toilet with his mum's vanity mirror propped on a stool.

Once Yamaguchi eventually managed to trim up, (with an unusually long 'is that what it looks like?' period of discovery), he took a shower and made sure he didn't smell. He scrubbed the hell out of his nails, and brushed his teeth squeaky clean. As he nervously awaited your arrival, he cleaned up his room and made his bed. He blushed as he laid out several condoms that Tsukki had given him, remembering the other day where he had to test them to make sure that they fit.

Yamaguchi eyed himself up and down in his mirror, trying to figure out what he should wear, (which he normally wasn't worried about at all). Should I wear boxers or briefs... will she even know the difference between the two? Should I wear a belt, or would that be too much work? Is a button-up a bit too formal for this event? Yes, ok T-shirt time.

The minutes leading up to your appearance made Yamaguchi sick to his stomach, and he tried to calm his nerves by taking deep breaths. Would he be too scrawny for her? Maybe his dick was small and he just didn't know it? Now that he thinks about it, are his nipples a bit weird? He attempted to flatten the cowlick on the top of his head, but it wouldn't comply. A 'ding' from Tadashi's phone makes him freeze, and he glanced over to peer at the screen.

Y/n: I'm here! I didn't know if I should've knocked or not

Yams: I'll be right there! One moment

Yamaguchi dropped his phone and grabbed one of his pillows before screaming into it. He delicately set it back down, and he made his way to the front door. He was lucky that his dad was working late, and that his mum was away to visit a sick relative. Otherwise, he would have a very hard time explaining your presence to them.

"Hi!" Tadashi said breathlessly as he opened the door to his home, eyes meeting with your e/c ones. God, were you beautiful.

"Hello," you replied shyly, playing with the straps of your bag.

"Come on in," Yamaguchi's chest felt tight as you took off your shoes and put on the guest slippers.

He led you to the living room, unsure if he should take you to his room so soon. He went off to prepare some tea, and his mind swirled dizzily. The two of you barley talked at school, and the past week of getting to know you over text just made Yamaguchi fall for you harder. He swallowed a lump in his throat, and brought the tea tray to the living room with shaky hands.

"Uh, I wasn't sure what you liked, so I hope blackberry is fine..." Tadashi rubbed the back of his neck, eyeing the carpet with piqued interest.

"It's fine!" You smiled gently, pulling your cup closer to you. "So anything that you want to talk about before uh, the main event?"

Yamaguchi was glad he hadn't taken a sip of his tea, because he would've sputtered like an idiot if he did, "uhm, n-not really? I'm j-just really nervous, so please take care."

"Of course! We'll go as slow as you want, no worries," you reassured, taking a sip of your tea, "y-you do have condoms, right?"

Yamaguchi stuttered again, "y-yeah". God he was awkward, getting embarrassed over damn latex.

The two of you did some studying to loosen the mood, and Tadashi started to feel just a little bit more relaxed. It was English you were studying, and since you were a speaker you helped him immensely.

"I know, i's and e's together are tricky, even for me. Most of the time the 'i' is before the 'e', but English can be a dickhead sometimes and it'll be the opposite," you leaned over the table to him as you corrected a few of his words. "But other than that, it looks great!"

Tadashi blushed at the praise, and thanked you quietly. He had to take a few moments so he could breathe normally again as he wasn't used to you being so close. His flush reddened tenfold when he noticed that your shirt seemed to have gotten pulled down a bit, exposing some of your breasts to him. He took a sharp intake of breath as he forced himself to look away.

"It's fine, Yama-kun," you giggled. "You can look all you want."

"S-sorry!" He apologized, embarrassed that you had caught him.

"C'mon, you can take a closer look," you pushed your chair back as you stood up to lean towards him, your shirt complying with gravity.

Tadashi was too flustered to speak, let alone look away from the eyeful you were giving him. You used one hand to grip both of his cheeks to pull him forward, causing him to stand up too. You guided his face so he was level to your boobs, and smiled bashfully when he let out the smallest whimper. You pulled his head up to yours, and you leaned in so your noses were almost touching.

"Heh, you're awfully close— a-are we going to k-kiss now?" Yamaguchi gulped nervously at the thought of your lips on his, and he inwardly groaned in annoyance that he was already getting hard.

"If you want to~," you smiled invitingly at him with your pretty e/c eyes as you touched noses with him.

"O-ok," he gulped, blinking harshly because of nerves.

You closed the gap and pressed your soft lips on his, kissing him slowly with purpose. You pulled away for a moment before going back in for a second taste, and you trailed your fingers down Yamaguchi's torso until you reached his waist. You gripped him gently, slowly riding your hands higher and lower. A gasp left his lips once you pulled away, and his cheeks were ferociously flushed.

"H-holy..." Tadashi mumbled, his lips still tingling from your kisses. "I didn't think it would feel so good."

"D'you mind if we head over to your room now?" You asked, chest still rising and falling a little unevenly from the kiss.

Tadashi gulped nervously as he led you to his bedroom up the stairs, trying to hide his erection so you wouldn't make fun of him for getting hard so fast. Once he locked the door behind you, he looked back to his bed where you were sitting, taking off your necklace and placing it on his side table, taking care not to tangle it. You encouraged him to come over with a beckoning of your hand, and patted beside you with the other.

"C'mon Yams don't be shy, take a seat. I won't bite," you smiled warmly at him. "Unless you want me to."

Tadashi blushed as he walked over, plopping down beside you. You turned to face him and tilted your head to indicate that you wanted to give him another kiss, he leaned closer and you gently held his face. He let out a soft whimper once your mouths collided again, and gripped the sheets under him tightly.

"Touch me, Yams," you moaned into his mouth, and Tadashi thought that he was going to pass out at your words.

He anxiously reached out his hands to grip your waist, and squeaked in surprise when you groaned against his lips, opening your mouth and gliding your tongue across his lower lip. Tadashi let your tongue graze against his, and his whole body shivered at the unfamiliar sensation. The green-haired boy tensed when he felt your hand drop from his face to his chest, which was rising and falling quickly and unevenly.

"You alright? Still want to keep going?" You asked breathlessly, toying with the neck of his T-shirt.

"Hmng," Yamaguchi struggled to formulate a sentence, "y-yes please."

"Using your manners at a time like this? You're so cute, Yams," you cooed, gliding your hand down his torso, giving him a peck on the lips as you continued down to his belt.

"C-call me Tadashi," said the young man, blushing profusely, "p-please."

"You're so cute, Ta~da~shi~," you whispered in his ear, sliding a hand between his thighs.

Yamaguchi moaned as your hand drew agonizingly closer to the strain in his jeans, desperately trying not to rut upward into your touch.

You looked into his half-lidded eyes, purring, "can I touch you, Tadashi?"

"Yes," he answered, too quick for his liking. He inwardly cringed at his eagerness, but it was soon forgotten once you trailed a finger over his clothed cock. "Hah~," he squeaked.

You took ahold of one of his hands and brought it up to your breast, squeezing it for him lightly. Apprehensively Tadashi slowly started to knead it, bringing his other hand to cup your opposite breast. He was very gentle with your assets, taking care not to clutch too harshly on the soft mounds. Tadashi had almost forgotten that your hand laid on his thigh, until you firmly gripped his package.

"Hmmgh," Yamaguchi moaned against your mouth, leaning forwards as you leaned backwards to separate your lips. He was about to apologize, for what he didn't really know, but shut up as you peeled your shirt off your body. He had dreams of this happening, and now that it was real he didn't know what to do. Tadashi blushed furiously as you gripped your own boobs, pinching at your clothed nipples.

You peered at him expectantly, but noticing his cocked head you bowed forward and grasped the hem of his shirt. Tadashi felt foolish at the fact that he forgotten he had to take his clothes off as well, and he warily helped you lift his shirt over his head. The boy huffed anxiously as your eyes drawled across his torso, his head starting to spin with embarrassment and insecurity.

"S-sorry if i-it's not what you h-hoped for," Tadashi heaved, shoving down the hot tears that were building up inside of him. He rubbed his arms as if to warm himself, cowering in apprehensiveness.

"Oh Tadashi, you're exactly what I hoped for," you hummed lowly, trailing your hands down your body to rid yourself of your pants/skirt. He gulped in relief and arousal, watching carefully as you rubbed up and down your torso, occasionally playing with the hem of your undies.

You reached forward to grab his belt, undoing it with a jingle. You threw it onto the floor and dove back down to unbutton Tadashi's jeans, licking your lips in excitement. Just the sight alone made him groan, feeling as though he could cum any second. He watched you with wide, curious eyes when you slowly unzipped his pants. You grinned wildly once you finally rid Yamaguchi of his pants, and gently palmed him through his boxers.

"M-maybe you shouldn't do t-that," Tadashi stuttered as you continued to rub his clothed, twitching cock. "I- I don't wanna f-finish too fast and then we c-can't, uh, y'know..."

You hummed in understanding, and slid away from the dark haired boy. Tadashi awaited the reveal of your breasts as you teasingly struggled with your bra, and you saw him lean in a little closer. He watched in awe as you exposed your tits to him, continuing down to your underwear. Yamaguchi gulped when you peeled them off, staring at the slick string of your juices connecting you to the piece of clothing.

Tadashi was frozen in place as he watched you slowly spread your legs open, giving him a show of teasing yourself. In all honesty it looked like he was about to faint from the lack of blood in his face, but that quickly changed when you softly moaned his name. A whimper escaped his lips and he rutted forward into the air, feeling the blush creep quickly onto his cheeks again.

You breathed deeply as you slowly spread yourself open, carefully inserting a finger, and then another one a moment later. You felt so aroused that you didn't think you even needed preparation; still in a little bit of shock that, oh god your crush was in front of you with a painfully hard erection looking at you as if you were the whole world. The fact that you had scored this opportunity was incredible, and you still couldn't believe it.

You met Tadashi's eyes and slipped your slick fingers in your mouth to suck them clean, observing his awed expression, "wanna taste?" You asked sultry, dipping your fingers back into your heat.

Yamaguchi's eyes were the widest they had been all night, and a strangled nod of his head let you scooch forward to him. He nervously opened his mouth, poking out his tongue to suck on your fingers. You felt your cunt clench desperately at the sight in front of you, and you sighed a moan. You took Tadashi's hands in yours and leant backward onto his pillows, letting him trap you with his arms beside your head.

"Hah— f-fuck," Tadashi choked out, grinding his still clothed cock on your thigh. "P-please~."

"Take off your underwear, 'Dashi," you murmured hotly to him, trailing your hands down his back to his waistband.

He struggled with the article of clothing before throwing them to the floor, blushing profusely once he realized that he was completely exposed to you. A groan was ripped from Tadashi's chest when you gave him a few pumps, reaching out with your other hand to grab a condom.

"Are you ready?" You asked. "You can back out at anytime, no judgment."

"F-fuck yes," Tadashi stammered, shakily rolling the thin latex on his fluttering cock.

He let you take charge, taking a deep breath when you grasped his dick and guided him slowly inside of you. Tadashi's mouth widened into an 'O' as he sank deeper into your hot pussy, taking the air from his lungs. A low groan rumbled in his chest, and he gripped the sheets tightly. He couldn't move, he realized. If he moves, he cums. Game over.

"I-I-," Tadashi gasped, struggling to find the right words. "T-tight."

"You can move, Tadashi," you encouraged, trying not to clench around him.

So he did, wanting to impress you somehow. His abs tensed painfully as he fiercely held in his orgasm, slowly dragging back and forth. He heard himself whimpering and he was scared that he was going to start crying. Your reassuring moans didn't help Tadashi from his sensitive state and he cried out as he came, shaking as he emptied his load into the condom.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry— I didn't mean to!" He panicked, lip trembling as he ridiculed himself for being so embarrassing. He hid his face from your gaze by locking his eyes on your chest, focusing all his energy on not crying.

"It's ok! It's ok, don't worry," you soothed, a little surprised at Tadashi's reaction. "There's always a next time," you added shyly, blush deepening.

"—n-next time..?"

[likeastarstar]

The House Call

Summary: As a full time grad student and part time drug dealer, you have a lot on your plate and Namjoon being a shitty school project partner is NOT helping, ok?!

masterlist.

Okay, so you were a drug dealer.

Nothing major! It was just weed, which would be legalized quickly, given the way the rest of the world was going. It was just to get you through grad school, you only sold to friends. You kept your circle tight, not many people even knew you dealt. You were very selective, which is why when Seokjin asked to share your number with his friend, you were unsure. But he was your most reliable customer, so his friends must be too.

What made it even worse was that he apparently was too busy to meet up at your usual drop spot- insisting to pay extra if you did a house call instead. You agreed, obviously, but still. It was annoying.

You had things to do, there was a huge project due the next morning and your partner hadn't done his part of it. He looked smart enough when you were paired up- he had glasses and everything. How were you supposed to know he was lazy as shit.

A buzzing in your pocket interrupted your internal rant- who the hell was calling you this late at night?

"Hello?" You snapped, letting your bad mood seep through your tone.

"Uh, hi- I had a question about the project."

Namjoon- your project partner. Of course. You groaned, walking up the steps to the apartment complex to where you were meant to drop off the weed. All of your conversations with this new customer had been through Jin, a fact that you regretted deeply.

"Get it over with, you know you really should've done this sooner," You sighed, checking the apartment numbers twice before knocking on the door.

"I normally would've but I've been really stressed, ok?" He apologized, a shuffling sound coming through the line.

You rolled your eyes as the door in front of you opened, revealing-

"Namjoon," You gasped, taken aback. He was Jin's friend? What are the odds. You hung up quickly, raising your eyebrows dramatically, "What are you doing buying weed instead of working on our project?"

He looked shocked himself, towering over you with his phone still pressed to his ear. He was dressed more casually than you were used to seeing, his hair disheveled in a way that oddly looked better than when he tried to tame it.

"I told you I was stressed," He mumbled, "Come in. I didn't know you were a dealer."

"I didn't know you smoked," You bit back, rolling your eyes.

You pursed your lips but stepped into his place, looking around curiously. It was nice, decorated in a way you wouldn't have expected from a 20 something year old boy. His place was relatively clean, other than the multiple empty cup noodles placed in random areas and the insane amount of paper laying around, "is this all schoolwork?"

"I'm taking a lot of classes," He shrugged, "How much is it?"

"Uh- thirty," You answered, picking up the nearest piece of paper. It was for micronutrients in the human body. the human, a class you had taken two semesters ago on a whim. "No wonder you're stressed out."

He handed you the money wordlessly, trading you for the paper in your hand. You looked at him for the first time since you walked in, only now noticing the dark circles under his eye and the way he had seemingly bitten his lower lip raw. You groaned, feeling all of the annoyance you had minutes ago turn into sympathy.

You shoved the money in your pocket and handed him his weed, pulling your backpack off your back, "Get high, take a break."

"I can't take a break right now, I'm so fucking behind on all of my classes-"

"Chill, I'll help you. Light up, we'll work on the project together and then I'll help you on micro. I got an A in it, I'll tutor you."

So that's what you did, working through the mountain of shit he had piled up in his living room side by side. You never really noticed how funny he was before, both unintentionally and intentionally. He offered your own weed to you and you accepted, feeling nice and relaxed by the time you had gotten around to tutoring Namjoon on other subjects.

"Do you understand it a little more now?" You asked, looking up at him. He was sat beside you on the couch, thighs touching yours with an arm stretched behind your head on the couch. He nodded and frowned, correcting his work and leaning towards you to show you. "Y-yeah, that's right."

He smelt really good- like sandalwood and honey. You couldn't help but stare at the way he was sucking his cheeks in in concentration. Why the hell was this guy a environmental science major? He could be a model.

"You're a really fast learner," You noted, your voice soft and hazy, the way it always was when you were high.

"You're a good teacher," He mumbled, smiling sleepily at you.

He looked so cute you couldn't help it, leaning forwards to kiss him. Namjoon was caught off guard, freezing for a moment but his lips were soft and his skin was warm, drawing you in before you snapped back to reality, pulling away sharply.

"I shouldn't have done that," You gasped, leaning away from him awkwardly. You had to get out of here- eyes already searching for your belongings. Embarrassment crept up on your skin, heating your cheeks. Maybe you could blame it on being reallt fucking blazed, which you were.

"No," He said suddenly, catching your arm with a hand around your wrist, "I should've done it."

What?

"Why do you think I wanted to be your partner for this project?" He smiled, eyes lighting up in a cute way you hadn't noticed before.

"Um, because I'm the smartest person in class?" You guessed, playing with his large hand idly. His fingers felt good between yours, tingling shocks sparking in the places where his skin touched yours.

He laughed softly, nodding sheepishly, "That too- but more than a good grade, what I wanted was you. Part of the reason I'm so behind in class is because all I do during lecture is stare at you- you're not very good at controlling your facial expressions, did you know that?"

You pulled your mouth into a tight line, smiling awkwardly. It was true, you had been known to show every thought passing through your mind on your face. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"You're really scary," He shrugged plainly, as if it were just an obvious fact. "You yell at me a lot which makes me nervous and horny at the same time and I've been trying to figure out whether that means I'm a freak or not."

"It's a good thing I enjoy yelling at you," You noted, more to yourself than him.

"You can yell at me whenever you want, baby," He said jokingly, grinning down at you. Holy shit, he had really nice teeth.

You barely had time to process his words before his lips were on yours, leading the kiss this time. His hand cradled the side of your face, thumb stroking your still flushed cheeks delicately as his other arm wrapped around your waist. You placed your hands on his shoulders, squeezing the muscle under your palms and pulling him closer to you. Namjoon guided you onto his lap, holding you closer him. God- he was warm and strong and so, so soft.

His hands stayed in their polite place at your waist, kneading into the flesh of your sides with a purpose. Namjoon was a good kisser- an easy balance of dominant and soft. He knew where to push and pull, reading your body like it was second nature to him. First kisses could be awkward, but this one was perfect.

His tongue licked a tentative swipe along the edges of your mouth and you reached up to sink your hands in his hair, pushing his head to the side slightly as you parted your lips and allowed him to deepen the kiss. His tongue was soft against yours and he tasted like smoke and something sweet, your favorite strain of weed invading your senses.

"We should do this more often- maybe not the tutoring thing, but this- the kissing thing," He said, parting from you for a moment.

You nodded eagerly, pulling him back towards you, "Yeah, definitely- the kissing thing. Maybe if I give you enough time to stare at me outside of class, you'll do better too. I really can't date anyone below a 3.5 GPA you know."

"Okay, calm down," He pouted, narrowing his eyebrows at you, "I have a 3.8."

"I have a 3.84," You bragged, "Don't worry, I'll tutor you."

He stifled a laugh and began kissing you again. You smiled and reminded yourself to thank Kim Seokjin for asking you to make a house call.

(A/N: giiirrrl what the hell? I don't have a 3.84 in my program...maybe I should've gone into a creative writing grad program instead....LMAO)

[cinnamonrusts]

i’ll see you in the village -- 2

parts: 1

This village is nothing that you thought it was going to be. You interact with some locals and Chris does some homework to find where you are when he cannot contact you. (chris redfield x f!reader) (a/n: it’s a long one, bois. thank you for all the love)

                                                            ✧.* ✧.*

As the terrifying sounds echoed through the dilapidated village grew closer to where you stood, your blood ran cold and you reached for your gun but stopped; because, you knew that if you opened fire you might blow your cover. However, whatever created these noises did not sound like a friendly neighborhood pet. Person? Dog? Creature? Whatever it was, it sounded dangerous.

“Come out!” you yell as your head whipped side to side, desperate to get a glance at what it was that was playing this game with you. “Come out!” you scream again, but are only answered with a sharp arrow which hurdled through the air and embedded itself in the wooden fence beside your head. You curse loudly, your life almost ended, and you probably wouldn’t have realized it if it did.

Before you popped off any rounds in retaliation, a strong arm pulled you back from behind. Their rough, dirty palm was pressed firmly against your mouth and they shushed you quietly. The person pulled you into a darkened home and quickly closed the front door that was opened just enough for the two of you to slink through. Your mouth opened to speak once you felt relatively safe from whatever horror lurked in the shadows of the night. “Quiet, girl,” your savior spoke. With the faint moonlight that shined through the boarded up window, you could make out the face of an elderly man and to his right was presumably his wife - who was armed with a double-barreled shotgun and the nose of it pointed at a small hole in the door.

They didn’t explain anything besides telling you that being quiet is the correct thing to do. The same blood-curdling screeches grew closer and thuds on the roof caused you to jump. “Do you have a gun?” he asks and you nod as you place your hand on your hip where it was concealed under your clothing. Sounds of snapping wood from above draw the attention of the wife and she proceeded to pump shells in the general direction of the intruders. One of her shots hit whatever it was and it scurried away. Screams of pain were the last of its noise before the thuds stopped and sounds of it tearing through the front yard verified it was gone.

✧.*

A brief amount of time passed before the two locals spoke. “You’re an outsider,” the woman said as she leaned her firearm on the wall beside the door. “Yes, that is true, but I’m nothing but a traveler from a town far East of here,” you lifted your long skirt to curtsey for the couple, “I’ve come here to spread my fortune telling for all to enjoy.” The man scoffed and shook his head before he took a drink from a dirty mug. “Mother Miranda does not cater well to outsiders,” he burped, “--Especially those with talks of necromancy and fortune telling.” Mother Miranda? Score.

“I promise I have no ill well to you, the locals, or this Mother Miranda that you speak of.” The man scoffed once more but his wife shushed him, “You’re welcome here, dear.” she placed a hand on your shoulder and grinned a gummy smile. “Thank you,” you say and the three of you exchange backstory to your lives, until you try to push for some information about Miranda. “Who is this Mother Miranda?” you ask finally and hope that the tape recorder that is hidden in your waistband had begun to record once you bumped it with your wrist. A glimmer of light sparked in her dark eyes and she walked over to the main wall across the way. She pushed herself onto her toes and reached for a dusty painting of a woman that hung crooked above her head.

“This -- this is our wonderful, Mother Miranda.” she placed it in your palms and you brushed away a thick layer of dust with your thumb. The painting was faded but you could still make out what this woman looked like, and it was identical to the photo that the BSAA showed. Another spot marked off on the mission bingo sheet. “She keeps us safe and has for longer than we have been around.” she continued to praise the blonde. “She does? What about whatever is out there!? Does she keep you safe from that?” Your insult hit a nerve because the man stood from his seat, “How dare you insult our Mother in our home! You will feel her wrath!” he continued to yell, despite hiding away from the thing just outside the door. He proceeded to kick you out of their home and closed the door behind you, then locked it so you couldn’t get back in.

You knocked several times and attempted to apologize, but the same shotgun used to save your life was now pointed at your forehead. When you could feel the sensation of the firearm aimed for you, your hands raised instinctually in the air and you backed away slowly, your eyes never moved from the barrels. Never again would you see this couple.

✧.*

Once again, you found yourself alone in the dark village. Maybe the large castle that loomed over would be a good place to investigate next? You wandered toward the center of the crossroads and your thoughts drifted from subject to subject before being interrupted by the sound of a horse’s gallop. Another villager?! Hopefully they’d be nicer than the last pair. You turned to wait for the horse to approach but were horrified at the site that soon was before you. On the animal’s back was no man or woman, but a grey skinned creature who wielded a burning stake with a charred human remain pierced through the middle. It looked like one of the drawings you found in the old fairytale book your mother read to you when you were a small.

There was no time to scream but just enough to pull your pistol off your hip and shoot into its face. Unlike any human but just like the BOWs you’ve dealt with previously, it took the bullets like a sponge. Instead of wasting any more ammo, you decided on your best bet, and that was to run - run fast. The terrain was unknown but you did your best to go in any direction that was not the same way as your assailant. 

The creature slashed the burning spike around in the air as it tried to hit you with it but you managed to duck and dive each time he did it. Soon, you saw a hope of escape, a line of trees. You continued down your path and once you reached the wooded area, you threw yourself down the only option you could see -- a steep hill and then tumbled down. The horse cried in fear and bucked upward, it wouldn’t allow the hostile creature to chase you any longer.

Your hands covered your head as you bounced off the hard, icy ground. Each hit, bump, and scrape burned through your body but you hoped that at the bottom you’d be safe. When you reached the bottom, you rolled out onto a dirt path and narrowly missed being trampled by a horse drawn carriage. The stallion that carried the wooden neighed loudly as it’s hooves dug into the ground. Your vision was blurred from your trip down the hill and you could barely make out a rather obese face of a man who peeked his head out from behind the curtain of his carriage. 

“My word, I nearly flattened you into a pancake!” he cried as he pulled the fabric back completely. Your breaths were heavy and short as you remained silent, eyes fixated on the Caucasian friendly face. The man encouraged you to enter his wagon and you hesitated to accept but did once you pushed yourself up from the ground. “Unlike those bewitching women who lurk in that castle... I don’t bite!” he giggled. The gentleman introduced himself as “The Duke” and gave you a short tale about his travels in this village. Duke explained that it wasn’t always this way and it was once full of rich life and light, but it’s all different now... “What about you, my lady? What is it that brought our paths to cross one another?” he asked before he blew out a puff of cigar smoke. You coughed several times and waved your arm in the air in an attempt to waft the smoke from the small room. “Well...” you started and then proceeded to tell the imaginary tale that you told the couple previously.

                                                                      ✧.* ✧.* ✧.*

“Dammit!” Chris yelled and slammed the dashboard of the vehicle he was passenger in with his fist. The truck that was to transport Ethan and his deceased wife had been taken off the road and the infant, Rose, was most likely gone or dead. He began to bark orders at his squad in frustration before he came to his senses and took a deep breath. Miranda must’ve been behind all of this... and took Rose. “There,” he pointed at a rugged map of the local area that was taped onto the truck’s wall and turned to Umber Eyes, “Miranda’s village is there, and I bet so is Rose.” 

A female interrupted from the back of the caravan, “Alpha, that information you requested came in.” she brought over a laptop and set it in Chris’s palms. The bright screen in the dark caused Chris to squint as he read through the document. Your BSAA photo was the largest thing on the page and beneath it was the detailed report of your newest mission, the one that brought you to Europe. He gritted his teeth - thoughts of the BSAA sending you on what could be a death mission crossed his mind. Chris reached into the breast pocket of his black overcoat and pulled out his phone, then held down the 1 key to speed dial your cell. It rang several times before informing that there was no voicemail set up. He huffed before he tried several more times. Each call ended the same way and Chris felt anxious.

“Lobo, ping on [Y/N]’s phone and find her location!” he ordered, his voice cracked just the slightest as his anxiety peaked. Lobo nodded, gave his superior a thumbs up and typed away on his laptop. Chris not only was concerned for Ethan and baby Rose, but now your whereabouts plagued his mind. He was confident in your capabilities but he knew how dangerous Miranda and her subordinates could be.

Chris sat in silence with his thoughts as the vehicle turned around and headed in the direction of Miranda’s village. He reached into the same pocket as earlier and pulled out a wrinkled photograph of the two of you. It was from your first mission that the two of you ever went on together. It wasn’t too long ago, maybe three or four years but it felt like a lifetime now. His calloused thumb ran over your smiling face and he hoped that you were okay...

The moment of silence ended, “Alpha, her phone pinged in the same location as Miranda’s village.” Lobo informed as he turned the screen to Chris. A brief moment of relief washed over him but if your phone was there, then where were you? And why weren’t you answering?

Little known to you or Chris -- the cellphone laid in the middle of the dirt road, left behind as you road off in the carriage with the Duke. The screen lit up brightly in the dark air and the generic tune jingled in the stillness of the night. It continued to do this several times as Chris continued to call and worked on pinpointing the pings. On the final ring, a feminine hand reached down from above and picked the phone up. The screen flashed, “CHRIS” over and over. The call was ended by the person, they took the phone firmly in their palm and crushed it with their strength.

Now, there was no way for Chris to communicate with you and someone was now on your tail...

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “An Analysis of Humans.”

Guess my brain wanted to write a partial scholarly paper today, so I guess this is what we got. Added in text sources to make it seem more legit. Lol

An Aggregated Summary of Human and Alien Comparisons

By Dr. Krill, Dr. Katie Quinn, and Dr. Adric Dracondi 

It has long been known, since humans were first introduced onto the galactic stage, that humans are, arguably, the most powerful sentient alien species in the known universe.  These are not simply popular conjectures by nonscientific minds, but the scientific community itself has conducted multiple studies regarding the adaptability and prowess of the human in comparison to other species. Many of these studies have examined, intelligence, hunting prowess, strength, and adaptability as their primary focus, (Diss, A., Wallin, G., and Millard; Wix and Veen). Based on these prior studies, this paper will attempt to summarize the overall strength of a human based on their homeworld evolution, comparison to other species, and their technological interplay.

Humans have existed on their home planet of earth for roughly 200,000 years. In comparison to other alien species, they are rather young, and still within the historical memory of the Rundi, who have existed through two major technology jumps, leaving much of their older historical records lost to time (Keple, J., et, all). Humanity began its life in the Miocene Epoch climbing through trees in the African savanna using both their feet and hands as tools for climbing. During this time they developed the ability to stand upright in order to use their hands for foraging. This gave them an increased ability to forage, and allowed them to share their food between pack members creating, what we now understand to be, the human’s social bonds (Keller, A., Winzer, C, V., and Pellar, Q). Of course, this wasn’t the only reason for human’s increased social bonds. Sometime during this period, the African Savanna went through a period of natural deforestation, reducing the number of trees humans could climb. For this reason, they were forced to turn to the ground where larger predators lurked (Huntsman, J,. Et. Al). At this point in time humans did not have many advantages against large predators, and even as of now, an unarmed human against most mid sized predators is going to lose. Compared to their own planetary predators, humans are not very fast, not very strong and not particularly dangerous when viewed alone. However, one of the human’s greatest advantages was originally their pack sizes encouraging cooperation among members to both protect each other and watch for predators. Predators would be much less likely to hunt a human in a large pack, sut as they are less likely to hunt other animals if they are in large groups preferring to attack those who are alone, weak or sick (Keller, A., Winzer, C, V., and Pellar, Q). 

Why then, were humans able to survive at all as they have some serious strategic disadvantages. Humans are slow, have no trees to climb, poor smell , arguably por hearing, and dismal strength in comparison to savannah predators. Furthermore, the transition into humans walking upright caused the narrowing of the pelvic bone, which would become an issue as humans continued to evolve. The answer to this question comes with later iterations of the evolved humans. After thor descent from the trees, humans gained a few important abilities: first of all they lost all of their fur giving them the ability to sweat, their legs were lengthened and their arms were shortened giving them a superior sense of balance for throwing, and their cranial size increased giving them the ability to use and create tools for cracking bone which would aid them in foraging: the increased brain size would later give them the unique ability to speak. These two distinctions being important precursors for sentient life (Wheeler., R, Winter, F., And Nix., L). 

The human ability to sweat, coupled with their upright walk gave humans the natural ability to run while carrying tools, such as spears and weapons. Early humans evolved for running long distances. The arches of their feet act as springs which depress and spring back as they run. Tendons in the back of the ankle do the same, while powerful muscles in their lower backs and butts keep them standing upright and provide power. Humans keep their balance using muscles in their shoulders, and the swinging of their arms gives extra momentum and balance. The head is held in place by special tendons on the sides of their necks, while their eyes and brains correct for the bouncing of their gait. Furthermore, while other animals require panting and shade to cool off, human sweat rolls into the skin and then evaporates, cooling them off as they move. In this way , humans are superior at long distance running and often used pursuit predation to run their prey to death before spearing them with tools they made (Dillinger, F., and Walker, P). While many animals on their planet are capable of throwing, humanity’s long legs and short arms gives them the superior balance required to throw hard without losing their balance giving them the advantage of long distance weapons. Coupled with tool making,, humans did not have to directly interact with much of the prey they were hunting.

During this time humans grew more socialized and pack oriented  As their brains got bigger, childbirth became more dangerous, and their offspring were forced to be born earlier and more underdeveloped than ever before. Packs grew in size as did family groups. Their ability to speak was probably one of their greatest accomplishments, though ironically, the drop of their larynx into their neck, which supported the transition to speaking, also made them more prone to choking (Huntsman, J,. Et. Al). As the climate on earth gradually began to change, humans moved north using their tools and abilities to survive in colder and colder climates. Different iterations of humanity formed, the Neanderthals VS the Sapiens for a time before the Neanderthals eventually merged with the Sapiens or died out. Humans gained the ability to bond with other animals -- a trick which only the Rundi have separately managed. In turn this sparked the rapid evolution of technology which eventually led them to space travel.

Humans may appear impressive to most outside alien species, but on their planet, domination came about only because of luck, and adaptability. Their evolution to walking on two feet was the catalyst for them being smart enough to out maneuver heavier and more dangerous species.

Now as we examine sentient species today, we can examine a few commonalities between the groups. The first being the ability to speak. No sentient species has evolved without some sort of communicatory language. The starborn can speak telepathically, and most other species vocally.  The lumens and the Mikes also communicate based on light frequencies, though these are still translatable into structural sentences if one knows what they are doing. Even the Adaptids have a very base and rudimentary speech which requires the use of smell (Krill, 4020).  Another common trait is hands or other limbs used for the manipulation of objects. While some aliens also developed the ability to stand upright on two legs: Drev, Tvek, Finnari, Gnark,lak, some retain that ability only partially: Rundi, Kree, while the vast majority require at least three or more limbs to stay upright using tails to balance or adding extra legs for stability: Tesraki, Vrul, Iotins Burg etc..Regardless of walking upright all of these creatures have the ability to manipulate objects to use tools.

The question now remains. Where do humans and other aliens stack up? The answer seems clear in that humans are not powerful because of their dominance in one specific area, but because humans are generalists where others are specialists. There is a human saying that goes along well with this research. Jack of all trades, the master of none, but better than the master of one. A general knowledge of everything seems to be the precursor for being the best survivalists. Let us examine intelligence first, as we know Rundi, Tesraki, burg and Drev are comparable to humans, which are all well behind Vrul and Gibb in average intelligence, though intelligence is one of the more difficult factors as intelligence is an important prerequisite to space travel (Kisk., Gana., Fuller., and Millward).  Humans are not the fastest, that goes to the Rundi, though they are the second fastest, and can arguably outdistance a Rundi in a footrace. Human hearing isn’t as good as a Tesraki, but better than most others just as their eyesight isn’t nearly as good as a Drev, but still much more powerful than others. Drev also take the main spot as being one of the strongest with humans closely behind. Smell is a relatively rare ability among nonhuman species, though the Drev have it to some degree. The Adaptids are known for their superior smelling ability, though it is arguable if they count as sentient just yet. Starborn can survive in space, which is an ability that no other nonhuman species has, accept for humans who can survive for about 15 seconds in the vacuum of space with damage: the only known case of this being of course Admiral Vir, who is as of now, the only human to have attempted this maneuver at all.

The argument we make here is not based primarily on human abilities, which seem second to all, but based primarily about how these interacted with their technological advances. Humans are the youngest species EVER to reach space, and that includes the Drev. In fact most humans still possess instincts which are often lacking in older sentient species, replaced by thought and logic. A human is still said to be able to sense danger before it comes, and can read body language better than any other sentient species currently known, which has much to do with the juvenile nature of their species. Furthermore, human durability is one of the greatest factors. 

The average human can stand about 5gs of force without passing out while trained humans can reach up to sustained 12gs. Most alien species on the other hand had to find ways to keep their craft below 4gs at all times in order to avoid passing out. Nonhumans spent much longer developing their technology before reaching space, while humans were busy strapping rockets to tin cans. A similar situation can be noted with the Drev, who can sustain 7 to 8gs if trained. Both of their species were allowed to leave their planet before fully developing out of their more primitive natures, as was common with other nonhuman or Drev species. In general, human and Drev durability have allowed them to operate machinery which would be too dangerous for other species, giving them a time advantage in the race to the stars.

At this point one might wonder if Drev are comparable to humans, after all Drev are stronger, more durable and just as intelligent as humans. This is true of course, but humans do have some strategic advantages, long distance running ability, pack bonding, and superior technology development, which might have been negated if it weren’t for the Drev religion which calls into question the nature of technology as dishonorable. Furthermore, though they can distinguish less colors than Drev, human sense of smell and hearing is stronger, giving them a distinct battlefield advantage in at least once sense as they are able to pinpoint the direction and height of sounds where Drev have trouble.

A discussion about the abilities of humans can go on all day, though the conclusion scientists have agreed upon focuses primarily on human adaptability and generalization skills as the primary function of their abilities, and seeming power over other species. It seems good then that human pack bonding instincts easly travels across species making them relatively easy to make alliances with compared to some other, more stubborn species.