#i will be staring at this for the next 5 hours. thank you.

[writingonleaves]

to not know who i am, but still know that i'm good long as you're here with me - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x original female character

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, nothing much else i can think of!

inspired by + title: i like me better by lauv

word count: 6.4k

author's note: hello everyone!! i feel like i've been in such a rut lately but i'm glad i managed to write this one out! this is for the lovely @wyattjohnston for her winter fic exchange 2k25. demi, thank you as always for your hard work in putting this together and i hope you enjoy. sorry that it's a few days late! to everyone, please let me know what you think!!

*****

When Maia Flaherty left her usual lunchtime coffee run with a number from one very Jack Hughes, she didn’t really quite know what to think. 

“No pressure,” he had said with an easy smile. “I just think you’re pretty and the glare you gave that couple that was making out at the table next to you sold it for me.”

As she stares out on her train ride home, she’s deep in thought. This might be just a one date thing and then they find out they have nothing in common and they move on. But she knows herself. She doesn’t fall fast, but when she falls, she falls hard. What if she ends up falling harder than him, setting herself up for heartbreak. But she knows that’s also unfair to him, especially because she doesn’t know him. She appreciates his boldness in asking her out, but she doesn’t understand how he can be so confident and sure that he wants to go on a date with her. To be fair, maybe he’s only looking for something casual, to which she has even less of an idea of how to handle it, because she has never done casual and doesn’t think she could do it. 

As she’s walking the streets back to her place in West Village, she thinks about how to approach this. Knowing her, she’s too curious to not text him and she probably will think on it over the weekend. But, should she protect herself and go into this as just meeting a friend or go into this romantically? She admits that he is cute and she was the slightest bit charmed by him, but she knows that she knows nothing else about him. She takes the time to look up some of his highlights of his career (he had dropped his Instagram handle to her “just so you know I’m a real person”) and she knows that he’s good. Almost annoyingly good. As a University of Minnesota alum, she’s familiar enough with hockey as a whole. She stalks his Instagram and doesn’t find anything much besides posts with family, friends and teammates. Pretty average. But she’s still weary. 

Monday morning rolls around, and on her train to work, she takes a deep breath, clicking on his contact and copy and pasting what she had written last night. 

hi!!! it’s maia from the cafe. if the offer still stands, i’d love to go out on that date 

Not even a minute later, and she gets a response. 

what a wonderful text to get on a Monday morning

the offer absolutely still stands. what’s your schedule looking like this week?

not around during regular people work hours so monday-friday 9-5 won’t work

my weekend is pretty empty atm but idk if that works for you? i’m assuming you have games this week

no games this weekend, for once. all weeknight games.

lucky timing

lucky indeed. you around Saturday for lunch?

works for me!

you’re in jersey right? i can come out to you if that’s easier

are you kidding me?

i’m not gonna make you come out to me, especially because I’m the one who asked you out

where are you in the city? I’ll come to you

She smiles to herself.

I’m in west village, but i can meet you anywhere 

i’ll do some research after practice and get back to you?

sure

i also can suggest some places as well!! 

appreciate it. i got it though. i’m the one who asked so I feel like it’d be unfair to ask you to plan

Huh, she thinks, being surprised again. She doesn’t have much to compare to, but she can’t remember a single date she’s been on where she hasn’t been the one planning.

okay lmk if you need my help! no rush we have a whole week 

(Jack has a break in a morning practice and he’s just staring at his phone with the biggest smile on his face. His teammates are all making fun of him, but he pays them no mind. It’s not new for them to poke fun at him for texting girls, but he knows, he just knows that this one is different. 

He also kinda likes the idea of “we.”)

kinda wish we didn’t

oh?

saturday is so far away 

you’ll survive

She gets into the office just then and her phone is forgotten as she’s thrown into spreadsheets and meetings. It isn’t until 4 p.m. where she has the mental energy and time to look at his responses. The last text he had sent was two hours ago.  

i found a place. well, a couple

i asked some of my friends who know the city better than I do

*screenshot of list in Notes app*

i tried to find places in different parts of Manhattan, mostly in West Village. i don’t know where exactly in that area you are and how easy or hard it is for you to get wherever

sorry, just realized I’m spamming you and you’re probably working

I’m so sorry i left you hanging work was literally insane until now

honestly all of these places sound wonderful

i’ve been to a couple of them before so tell your friends they have good taste

any one in particular you like?

you choose

since you’re planning it after all 

lol

i really don’t want you having to travel that far

i literally live in nyc so if I want to see any of my friends who don’t live by me I have to travel far

and you’re literally coming from jersey

i’ll be fine with any choice you make

seriously 

He chooses one of her favorite Greek food joints about 10 blocks from where she is and she tries to put it away in her mind. She still has this whole week to go. She’s known for years that she gets overwhelmed and stressed if she thinks ahead occasionally, and this is definitely one of those times. 

(There’s a game on Wednesday night, and her best friend and roommate Carrie urges her to put it on TV in the background while they’re eating dinner. Carrie knows next to nothing about hockey, so Maia tries to explain it to her. But most of the time, she’s quiet and her eyes are zeroed in on 86. Or trying to, because everyone skates so fucking fast. He scores a goal and assists another, and she knows that that’s literally his job, but she can’t help but feel something watching him skate around so confidently. 

She’s always respected the skill it takes to play hockey. Skating is hard. But the hockey attitude wasn’t always something that she loved. She understands that she’s projecting a lot of unwarranted judgement. But she doesn't think it’s all based on lies.

As the minutes wind down in the game, she zones out. She really doesn’t understand how or why this literal superstar of the sport just approached her and after knowing literally nothing about her, asked her out. This shit doesn’t happen to her. She also knows the usual crowd that hockey players go for. She’s not blonde. She’s not a model. She’s not anything like that. 

What does he want from her?)

*****

She wakes up Saturday morning a bit groggy, thanks to the glasses of wine her and Carrie had the night before. She goes through her morning routine, but decides to forgo the coffee and make a smoothie instead. She usually likes to sip on her coffee for hours rather than down it all in one go. And she knows if she downs it, she’ll start shaking. 

She doesn’t need to be shaking today. 

Carrie stumbles out when Maia just leaves the bathroom and offers to make a smoothie for her. With a yawn, Carrie nods as she slides past her to go into the bathroom. 

It’s 9:48 a.m. They’re meeting right at noon, so she has a bit of time. Her phone buzzes right after she finishes cleaning the blender. 

good morning! see you soon

She just sends back a couple of emojis, before scrolling around on her social media accounts, sipping on her smoothie. It’s just the waiting now that’s making her more nervous. 

She already knows what she’s gonna wear. An olive green sweater she bought recently that she’s been loving, black leggings, brown booties and earrings that she got years ago when she studied abroad. She’s leaving her hair down and putting some light makeup on. Nothing crazy. This is literally lunch. And she’s not gonna overthink for a boy. 

Carrie proves to be a good distraction, simultaneously hyping her up, assuring her and talking about other things to keep her head level. She walks to the subway station and goes on the train, airpods in. This is all routine. The way there is no stranger to her, often meeting up with her brother for dinner around the area. 

She checks the time. On time. 

She approaches the restaurant’s front at 11:57 and decides to walk in and grab a table. She stops in her tracks when she sees that he’s already there, in the corner by the window that she usually loves to sit at. He’s wearing a gray sweater and blue jeans, a baseball cap flipped backwards on his head. She waves off the hostess and heads in his direction. 

He looks up from his phone and immediately locks it, standing up. She smiles in greeting and he comes around to grab her bag as she shrugs off her jacket. She thanks him softly, to which he just smiles back at. As she’s sitting down, he pours out some water.

“You didn’t get lost getting here?” She jokes. 

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not that directionally challenged. Just not used to it.”

“That’s what you get for living in Jersey.”

“Oh. So that’s how we’re gonna play this?”

And that just sets the tone for the rest of the date. It’s…surprisingly easy. The follow up question immediately is if she’s from the city, to which she snorts and says “absolutely not,” but she’s been living here for over two years now. She grew up in Buffalo, she says, and went to college at University of Minnesota, to which he, of course, widens his eyes. “You went to Minnesota, and you’re not a hockey fan?” She rolls her eyes. “When did I say I’m not a hockey fan?” She talks about how yes, she went to a couple of games when she was there and they were always fun, but she wasn’t necessarily an avid fan. 

He talks about growing up in Toronto even though he was born in Orlando and then going to Michigan and how hockey was literally just his life from a young age, especially with parents who were also involved, as well as an older and a younger brother growing up to play too. Sure, she knows all of this (she couldn’t help herself and did enough research), but it is nice and different to hear from him directly. She does slip for a second and makes fun of his private school upbringing (“It tracks.”) but the shocked delight on his face lets her know that he doesn’t take offense. 

As they order the food and it comes and they start eating, she lets herself be charmed. She didn’t expect him to be so…normal. Normal in the way that she often forgot that he was one of the best hockey players in the country. Normal in the way that parts of him remind her of her closest guy friends. But then he would mention something about his career or just a random detail in his life that would make her remember. 

She notices that he also is very aware of how much he talks. It’s natural for her to ask more questions, because that’s just how she’s wired, but he turns questions back to her that excite her or make her laugh, and then she goes on a minor tangent. It’s very back and forth. Balanced. 

She’s having a really good time. 

She expected him to be more…straight-forward in terms of flirting, due to how he asked her out, but he’s not. He seems a bit nervous at times even, chuckling adorably and avoiding eye contact, but then he says something that’s so just so incredibly confident that makes her flustered or let out a scoff of disbelief. 

Before they know it, they’re done eating. She protests when he immediately grabs the check and pulls out his card, to which he just playfully glares at her for. She does relent and thanks him, and she’ll never forget the boyish smile he gave her. 

They’re both on the same page, not wanting their time together to end quite yet, lingering to leave. And then she suggests grabbing a coffee from a place around the corner and walking to a nearby park. She teases him, asking if he’ll get cold to which he scoffs at (“I’m basically a Canadian and I live at the rink. I’ll be fine. Will you?” She laughs. “I was born and raised in Buffalo. Don’t worry about me.”) 

They grab coffee (to which she puts her foot down and pays and he lets her), him a black coffee and her an iced chai, and she leads them leisurely to a nearby park. It’s a little chilly, but it’s not windy which is good, and they find an empty bench and sit down, their conversation and battering just coming so incredibly easy. Even to the point where sometimes, she’s not necessarily calling him out, but she’s challenging some of his thoughts. She’s not shattering his confidence at all, but definitely subtly giving him a reality check and just being honest.

And not even purposefully. It’s just how she is.

(He really appreciates it, actually. It’s been awhile since someone who he’s just met isn’t afraid to challenge him off the rink. He loves the attention and always has, and she’s giving that to him, but there’s also something innate in her that’s so grounded and in turns, grounds him.)

But it’s also different. It’s different when he randomly throws out a compliment here and there, saying how he loves her laugh and how cute she is. The way he’s paying attention to everything she’s saying. The way he just can’t help but chuckle almost incredulously because she’s so much more than he imagined, even though he’s the one who asked her out. 

Before they know it, it’s almost 4 and they’ve been chatting the whole time. Yet somehow, it still feels like they could keep going. She walks him to the nearest subway station since it’s on her way home. She gives him a farewell hug and he follows his gut and kisses her on the cheek, promising to text her. She smiles one more time before turning to walk back to her apartment.

When she gets back to her place, Carrie’s there and ready for a recap. She says everything she can remember them talking about, which is a lot, while Carrie just listens carefully. Throughout it, she’s trying to downplay it, probably for self-preservation purposes, looking back. Carrie lets her dwell on it occasionally, but also interrupts when needed to try to assure her friend that she’s a catch and there’s a reason he asked her out in the first place and she can’t play herself down like that. 

What she knows for a fact at this point is that she likes spending time with him, and she does have romantic feelings for him. Everything else? She has no idea. She has no idea if they’d pair together well. She has no idea what he wants from this. She has no idea how he actually feels about her, because he could’ve just thrown out those compliments because he’s naturally flirty. It wouldn’t surprise her. And god, she can’t help but let her mind wander into his career and being in the spotlight and how that just affects…everything.

She just doesn’t know. 

(Meanwhile, he returns to an empty place, Luke out with some friends for the night. He can’t stop smiling, replaying the whole day in his head. She’s just so much more than he expected, able to keep up with his quips, often beating them. She laughs and smiles so freely. She’s so damn smart. She’s beautiful. 

He’s had his fair share of hookups and casual things, but this? This is different. It’s scary, he thinks, that he’s this invested after one date. It’s unfamiliar territory, and there’s so much more he wants to know about her. 

He needs to know everything he can about her. Before she figures out that she’s way too good for him.)

*****

Four weeks pass, and they haven’t seen each other. There have been some sporadic texts here and there, but with the chaos of both their jobs and then Thanksgiving, it hasn’t accounted to more than that. 

(She’s trying to get over it and let it pass. He wants anything but that)

On an early December evening, Maia’s just finished cleaning up the dishes when she gets a call. When she sees his name, she blinks. She clicks accept.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Jack.”

She can’t help but chuckle a bit. “Yeah, I know. What’s up?”

“How are you? How was your Thanksgiving?”

“I’m doing okay. Thanksgiving was good! I got to go back home for a few days. How about you? Did you even have a break?”

“Not really. I had some family come to watch some games though, so that was nice.”

“I’m sure it was,” she hums. 

“Listen-I…I know it’s been awhile.”

“Almost a month.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out guiltily. “I-I’m really sorry about that. I’ve…the season’s just been so crazy and, yeah. I’ve been meaning to reach out sooner, but just, like. Yeah. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she replies automatically. “I get it. Your schedule is crazy. I feel like you have a game every other day.”

“You’ve been keeping up?” He teases lightly. 

She rolls her eyes. “A bit more than I used to, sure. But that really doesn’t mean anything.”

He laughs a bit, before settling down into a serious tone. “If you have time, or if you even want to, because I totally understand why you wouldn’t, I’d love to go out again. I just, I had a really good time with you last time. Again, I know I…if you say no, I get it.”

It’s silent for a couple of seconds, but she knows her answer. “I’d love to.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she smiles to herself at his surprised tone. “You surprised?”

“A bit. I mean, I kinda fell off the face of the planet. I would understand if you didn’t want to see me again.”

“Jack.”

“Yeah?”

“When are you free?”

He sighs. “This week? Not much, unfortunately. I’m only around for dinner tomorrow and Friday, and then I’m gone for a few days on a stretch of away games.”

“Wanna do tomorrow?”

“You around?”

She snorts. “I’m not as busy as you are, Mr. NHL. I’m free most weeknights.”

He lets out a low laugh. “Okay, yeah. Tomorrow night’s perfect. I’ll actually be in the city in the afternoon to meet up with a friend so I’ll just stay and meet you around there.”

“Oh good. I don’t have to pretend I want to go to Jersey.”

“This again?”

She laughs. “I can choose this time. Do you know where you’re meeting your friend?

“Yeah. I have his address. Hang on, I’ll send it to you.” Seconds later, her phone buzzes and she briefly looks at the location on Google Maps. 

“Oh. Battery Park. That’s close to where I am. You must really like this friend if you’re willing to travel that far. It’s a pretty long way from Newark.”

“Right? That’s what I told him. So, tomorrow night, yeah?”

“Yeah. I can figure out a place and I’ll let you know tomorrow morning the latest if that works? What kind of food do you like?”

“Anything you like.”

“Jack.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay, okay. How does ramen sound?”

“Perfect. I gotta go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I’ll text you,”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.”

Tomorrow comes, this time at a lowkey but busy ramen place where they’re sat side by side and their knees are touching. Jack’s hair is out this time, and the waves are falling across his forehead and she just loves the way it looks. He notices the two rings she’s wearing as one quickly catches a light in the restaurant. They continue on from the last time they talked but this time, swimming the surface of deeper conversations. 

She talks about her constant doubts about her job and how she sometimes just wants to pick up and movs somewhere else and start new. He talks about how he knows he’s good at hockey and knows this is the only path for him, but how he recognizes that outsiders look and sometimes see a sell-out or someone who doesn’t work hard. But he’s learned to just put his head down and play and to do it well. That’s something she can also relate to. 

She talks about how her relationship with her older brother is one that she’s found to be very grateful for, especially because they’re so far apart in age. A lot of who she is is based on his personality. He talks about being the middle child and being close in age to his brothers, and how competition was always just built into every activity they did. He’s realized, especially as he’s gotten older, how much he appreciates his brothers and having all three of them being in the same league, with Luke on the same team, and going through similar experiences but also completely different trajectories. 

(Somewhere, they both take a few sake shots and Maia’s not quite drunk, but buzzing, her laughter more free and her face redder).

Even semi-intoxicated, she decides not to ask the questions she really wants to yet that focus around them and what they are, unclear of where they stand. They’re sitting so close to each other and she relishes in it, wanting more. When she runs a hand through her hair to push it back, she notices his eyes flickering at that action, which means…nothing. She has to break away eye contact sometimes because he’s just staring at her so intensely. 

No wonder he has girls wanting him left and right, she thinks. She’s kind of no better. 

Towards the end of the night (he paid again and she only let him after he said he would let her pay next time. Next time), they plan out vaguely when they’ll see each other next. He’s away for the next week or so, and she just shrugs. She gets it. It would be naive of her to think she can change it. “I’ll let you know the second I land,” he says, and she just nods. She then jokes that maybe their next date could be skating, and he rolls his eyes, though he takes it into consideration. When he asks if she’s serious, she snorts, “I mean, sure. But you’re not gonna have to teach me how, if that’s what you’re going for.” He laughs. Loudly.

When they part ways, he hugs her tightly and for a long time. She breathes him in subtly, her eyes fluttering shut when she feels him press a lingering kiss on her forehead. 

Maybe that’s when she should’ve asked. Because that act was way too intimate to feel friendly. But she didn’t, and she watched him walk away, chuckling as he turned around to shoot her a parting wink. 

She went to sleep that night, somehow, with so many thoughts circling around her mind)

*****

Maia has an idea of when he’s landing, so she’s not surprised when she gets a call on a Thursday night.

He seems a bit out of breath, and she asks him if everything’s okay. Everything’s fine, he says. He just landed back in Newark and is heading home. He cuts to the chase, and asks if she’s around the next night. She blinks, because she knows he has a game. He clarifies. Is she around after the game? (“Or for the game,” he adds quickly. “If you want to come, I can get you tickets.”) While she’s flattered, she knows that’s crossing a line at this point and she politely turns down his offer. But yeah, she says. I’m around after. What’s up? He asks if he can take her out on a date. And she knows her answer (it’s obviously yes) but she says only if she’s allowed to go to him in Jersey. He protests immediately, but she shuts him up (“Both of our dates have been way closer to where I am. It’s only fair, Maia.”) 

It’s gonna be a late night date, since the game (assuming no overtime) won’t end until at least 10:00. He’s not sure what he has in store, but she’s okay with not knowing. The only thing he assures her of is that he’ll drive her back into the city afterwards. Traffic should be light, so she doesn’t fight him. 

(That should’ve been another hint that this was something worth pursuing. She has a hard time letting go of control of plans, especially with people she hasn’t known for awhile.

She trusts him already)

When he hangs up, she thinks for a second. He had told her during their last date that he would let her know the second he landed. 

And he did. 

Huh.

*****  

The next night, she’s nervous. 

Dinner’s already been eaten. She caught the first period of his game, but had to leave to catch her trains to meet him. With encouraging words from Carrie paired with some hype up music, she’s on her way.

When she steps out of the station on this abnormally warm December night, she immediately sees him leaning against his car. His hair is damp from the shower he probably just took, and he’s sporting a peacoat over a sweater and blue jeans. 

He perks up when he sees her and she practically skips over to him. She smiles and pulls him into a hug, and she feels him press a light kiss in her hair. 

“Hey.” She says softly. 

“Hi,” he mutters in her hair, pulling away to lean down and place a kiss on her cheek. “It’s good to see you.” He opens the door for her as she slides in, and she’s thankful that she followed her instincts and dressed comfortably in her beloved Minnesota sweatshirt, stifling a yawn as she thanked him. She puts on her seatbelt and leans back, watching him climb in. 

He turns to her, “Wanna aux?”

“Are you sure?” She asks, already fiddling around to connect her Apple carplay. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” He chuckles, looking behind him to pull onto the road. 

She shrugs. “What kind of music do you want?”

“Whatever you want.”

She snorts. “You don’t mean that.” She scrolls through her playlists and debates on which one to do. “I saw that you guys lost. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he replies automatically and she catches his eye and gives him a look of doubt. He corrects himself. “Okay, it’s frustrating, but none of that right now. I wanna hear about you. How’s your week been? Did that thing with your boss get resolved?”

She blinks. Right. She had mentioned that briefly when he called her earlier in the week. “Kinda.”

“Kinda?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I don’t know. You gotta learn which battles to fight, you know? This one is one I don’t have to win.”

He nods with a soft hum, stopping at a red light. “Do you like milkshakes?”

She chuckles a bit at the change of topic. “I don’t mind them.”

“Wanna get some right now?”

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“No,” he admits. “Because I want one.”

“That can’t be on the diet plan you athletes have going on.” 

“Oh, it definitely isn’t. Worth it though.”

“Do they have oreo or cookies and cream?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes.” He grins, and she takes a couple seconds just to watch it. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Thanks for coming out to Jersey at 10 pm.”

She chuckles. His heart drops to his stomach. “I had nothing else to do on a Friday night.”

He snorts. “Yeah, okay. I don’t believe that.”

“Really?”

He shrugs.

She leans back into her seat. “I don’t have the energy to hang out with people every night. Respect to the people who do. That’s just never been me. I can sit for hours and not talk to anyone.”

“You’re an introvert, then.”

“Is that surprising?”

He takes a second to think about it. “Yes, one, because you always talk about your friends so I know you have a lot. And two, because we literally talked for four hours on our first date.”

She shrugs, looking straight ahead of her to get the courage to respond. “There’s very few people in my life who I can talk with for hours.”

“I’ll consider myself lucky, then.”

She looks back over to him, watching as he shoots her a quick smile before he focuses back on the road. “How’s your week been?”

“The usual. Practices and games and travelling in the west coast, so I’m a little jetlagged, which isn’t great.”

“I didn’t realize that you guys play games like, every other day. Which is dumb, because like, it makes sense, but that just sounds exhausting. What am I saying though? It’s literally your job.”

He laughs softly and she tries to ignore the warmth spreading across her skin. “It can be tiring, for sure. But yeah, I love it, you know? Wouldn’t want to be doing anything else.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Just then, they pull into this small, unassuming diner and roll right through the drive-thru. He orders a chocolate milkshake and she gets an oreo one, and before he can think about it, she forces her credit card in his hand. He laughs and relents, and they pull out and are back on the road quickly. She sips on her milkshake and smiles to herself, not even asking where he’s driving them to next. 

(She thinks they could be anywhere and she’d still want to keep talking to him forever. He thinks that practically every worry in his life could fade away if he could look at her smile for the rest of his life)

He rolls up to one of his favorite views in Jersey of midtown Manhattan, finding an alcove and backing his car into it. Hamilton Park. They both get out and all she can do is stand there and admire the stunning view, milkshake in hand. She’s literally breathless. The last time she remembers feeling like this is when she saw the Pantheon for the first time nearing midnight with her brother when they were in Rome in 2022. She doesn’t notice him unlocking the trunk and setting up the backseat with blankets and pillows until he softly calls her name. 

(When her eyes met his, the glow of Manhattan in her eyes, he swears to this day that his heart skipped a beat. He was hers already then)

They settle into the makeshift couch, not quite touching but really freaking close. 

“It’s beautiful,” she says softly, just looking at the view. 

He hums, his eyes flickering between the view he knows too well and the girl who makes him feel better about who he is simply for just being around. It sure is. 

She lets herself admire the view silently for a minute or so more, before she can’t take it anymore. “Jack?” She asks, still looking out. 

“Yeah?”

“What are we doing?”

“What do you mean?” 

Wrong answer, if the unimpressed expression on her face is any indication. She nudges her knee with his. “Come on. You know exactly what I mean. What are we doing? What are we?” 

He shrugs, trying to ignore the frogs in his stomach. He should’ve known she was gonna bring it up first. She’s too smart not to. “I-I like you. Wouldn’t have chased after you if I didn’t. You-you’re amazing, you know that? I don’t think you realize how much you can just stay on someone’s mind. I know this is only our third date, but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life and I like who I am when I’m around you.” 

She swallows, pausing to sip her milkshake and wiggling into the blankets. He thinks she’s adorable. “I haven’t liked someone in so long. I thought I forgot what it felt like. But then you asked me out and I see a text from you or hear you through my phone or see you on TV, and I’m like oh. I think I remember what it feels like now. It feels like this.” 

He has to take a second because oh, maybe her dreams of becoming an author aren’t just words. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” She swallows again. “But I, I can’t do casual. I never have. I really, really wish I could

sometimes. So if that’s what you want, I can’t do it.” 

“What makes you think I want casual?” 

She snorts, “Because you’re a hot and talented hockey player? You can’t blame me for making the assumption.” 

“You think I’m hot?” 

Maia smacks him in the stomach. Jack laughs. She takes a breath. It’s now or never. “I just, I know you have girls in your DMs and your comments and everywhere else that are prettier and maybe could give you more of what you’re looking for or something that’s not…me.”

“You’re beautiful.”

She lets out a small noise and smiles slightly. “Thanks. But, I-I know that you have so many options. I won’t be hurt if I’m not the one you choose.”

He taps her knee so she’s paying attention and listening to his next words. “I-I’ve done casual before. I don’t think I can do that with you.” 

“You can’t? Why not?” 

“Well, A, because you don’t want to, which leads to B, I don’t want to. Not with you.” It’s his turn to swallow now as he looks at the skyline. “I really, really like you, Maia.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

“All in?” 

“All in.”

“You completely sure?” She interlaces her hand in with his and raises his knuckles up to her lips. He’s utterly floored. But he’s nervous. And she can sense it. 

“Yes. I just…it’s, I’m not trying to backtrack. I mean, you’ve already seen some of it. Like, during the season, it’s intense. Game every two or three days, practice pretty much everyday, stretches of roadies and being away. I feel like, not that I doubt you or us or anything, but that’s not, I won’t be around as much as I should be. How is that fair to you?”

“Yeah, I mean, yeah. I figured that from the first day. I get it. Well, as much as I can get it. I’m sure it’s gonna be tough. I know it will be.” She squeezes his hand, leaning on his shoulder. “If you’re willing to try, then so am I.”

“You’re too good for me.”

She scoffs, grinning as he places a kiss on her temple. She places her milkshake by her side, summoning up some courage. She adjusts herself so that she’s fully facing him, and he just watches her intensely. With her white BU crewneck, a blanket around her shoulders, hair falling just past her shoulders, and the soft smile on her face, his mind goes quiet. Peaceful.  

She kisses him first. Innocently and softly, before pulling back to gauge his reaction.

He responds quickly, cupping her cheek and pressing his lips against hers again. They’re both smiling into the kiss and everything feels calm. He wraps a hand around her waist as she maneuvers her hands around his neck, playing with his hair. She’s so lost in him that she doesn’t really realize that she moves herself so that she hovers over his lap, knees on either side of his hips. He has his hands placed on her lower back.

He lets out a low groan, “Baby.”

Her brain short circuits, both at the nickname (she’s always flinched at it before, but she loves the way he says it) and the timbre of his voice, but she has enough sense to pull away. They’re both breathing heavily. “Sorry,” she breathes out, leaning her forehead on his shoulder. She closes her eyes. She needs a second. 

“Don’t be,” he says, bringing her face back up to his and brushing his thumbs on her cheek. “God, you’re so beautiful. I’ve been wanting to do that since the minute I saw you.”

She chuckles, sliding off of him and settling into his side, staring out at the skyline again. “You’ve had plenty of chances.”

“I kinda knew if I kissed you before knowing what we were, it would be more heartbreaking if you rejected me.”

“If I rejected you?” 

“Yes.”

“In what world would I have rejected you?”

“I don’t know. But I’m glad it’s not this world.”

She keeps herself from rolling her eyes, and just leans up to kiss him on the cheek. Because, you know, she can do that now. 

(That night, staring out at the stunning skyline of a city she has grown to love, with the warmth of the blankets over her legs and over her shoulder, a boy she was very quickly growing to care for deeply pressed by her side, telling her he feels the same way, she felt lifted. Free.

Unstoppable)

(When he drops her home, it’s 1:18 a.m. and she doesn’t want to get out of the car. With the way his hand has been attached to her thigh, it seems like he doesn’t want her to get out either. But he has an 11 am practice tomorrow and he just had a game. He’s exhausted. 

He kisses her once, twice, a third time before letting her go. As soon as she steps through the lobby of her apartment building and out of view, his grin practically splits his face. He smiles all the way home)

[leeyasuojihan]

An Hour with You

Soobin X Male Reader

fluff, slight angst 

IC: Reader is an ex-SHINee member (maknae), age gap (5 yrs Soobin is 24, M/n is in his late 20’s), acquaintances/friends to lovers(not really), reader is friends with Yeonjun, reader had a past scandal very brief, -nim means Mr., sorry if anyone is out of character I'm just a writer 😣, Rusty writer, I'm seriously not good at dialogue

A/n: there were so many moments where I was like wtf am I writing about idek what pov this is? 3rd ig, I used the 40% of English I know, slightly inspired by the bl “Light on Me” the ending

Start: 12/22/24 - Finished: 02/02/25

~

An hour or 8, how long has it been? {name} has been in the studio since the group had returned from an interview, hours since he and Chan had both been there working on their solos for their next release HOP

Is there something wrong with him? All the other members have already finished at least writing their songs, I mean it's not that it's due anytime soon, but still, it's been weeks. The only word present in his notebook was the word “you” surrounded by scribbled-out traces of his past thought processes

How much longer would he have to stare at his pen for ideas to start forming? He looks around for his phone, seeing it by his once-filled coffee cup he checks the time, 6:30 AM, as it is about to turn off a notification reignites it

Lixie: Hyung, are you still at the studio? you weren't in your room

Why was he still up, they have another interview tomorrow, or well later today either way it's not something he's excited for, {name} quickly responds 

{name}: I’m leaving now, why are you still up Lixie

Sending the message he packs up disgruntledly glancing at his poor attempt at a song one last time before closing his notebook and tossing it into his bag so ready to do anything but think for the next hours

~

7:31

Entering the shared dorm Felix was waiting in the main room lying on the couch, hearing the door he turned his attention from his phone, “Oh hyung, you look tired”, “Wow, thank you” {name} said placing his bag down beside the door, he’ll get it later, or someone else will do it

“You know I didn't mean it like that, you lay with me,” Felix said, watching {name}’s slow movements towards him. Nights like this were when {name} wished he had just settled for a normal job after leaving his last group, he appreciated the member's efforts and all of Stay’s support, all 7 summers together were spent with no regrets, but with a schedule like this there should be a lot more breaks 

“Have you finished your song yet {name}?”, {name} groaned not wanting to think about his lack of creativity, “I'm not even close, I have no good ideas”, Felix responded with a hum “We still have a month” A month {name} is sure will be filled no progress since 5 have already passed

“Yeah,” {name} says, turning towards the window, curtains slightly blocking out the beauty of the sunrise. “It's almost light outside, I'll go shower so I won't take too long when we're ready to leave” At this point, it wasn't only the music becoming a burden 

It was everything and everyone, even the shortest conversations like this were exhausting especially when they were about work, he didn’t even feel like he had enough energy for a shower but whatever would help him get away for a few minutes

The thought of a hiatus was never a new thing, he had been on hiatus for a scandal a year ago, and that might be the problem, he had gotten so used to doing nothing only to be placed back with a hectic schedule on a random day when the company decided they wanted him back in the group 

Since this comeback started he has been battling the thought of having this conversation again, this time it being his own decision, he didn’t want to leave the boys worrying while they were all busy with practices and preparing for their solos. He’s usually good at pushing through these moments regardless of how tired he is, but recently the weight of everything feels as if it's trying to crush him

Being in the industry as long as he and being the oldest of the group has made even the smallest mistakes on stage and during recordings made him feel like he’s no longer good enough to be an idol, the other boys have noticed his constant requests for retakes but it never seemed that serious as Seungmin would do the same at times

Now not even being able to write a song was his limit, living like this any longer was just unbearable, all his passions seemed to be dimming, and it was obvious, to him at least, that he needed to take a step back before he completely loses it

The interview goes by as most do, lame jokes, fake laughs to be nice, and the interviewer knowing barely anything about the actual group, fun. Although {name} spent most of the interview zoned out it didn't change much since both felt like a waste of time, one was just more socially agreed on

Chan of course observed all his members making sure they were all comfortable and noticed quickly when {name} wasn't as interactive as he usually was, only sending small smiles his way when he’d seen the leader looking his way

Finally, there's an end to it, the room fills with thank you’s and staff members packing up, {name} quickly made his way over to Chan thanking a random staff member, “Can I talk to you about something” Chan's expression became more serious as he turned in {name}’s direction “Yeah, I wanted to talk to you too”

The two ended up in a bathroom, not the best place but it's private. “Are you okay you barely said anything the whole time” Chan started “Actually, Channie.. I haven't been feeling well lately, I wanted to talk to you about going on hiatus”

With his reaction {name} wasn't sure how he was feeling, Chan simply nodded and stared for a second before speaking again “How long have you been feeling like this, why didn't you tell me earlier”, {name} thought about for a second glancing around but still the design of the room goes unnoticed “it's been 5 months now, I didn't want to bother you guys but right now everything even just talking for too long feels like a chore. I don't want to leave but I think I need time to find myself”

“{name} hyung, this isn't something that bothers us, this is serious. I'm sorry you've been feeling this way and that I didn't notice sooner, you've worked hard, it's normal to get tired, you're human. If a hiatus is what you need we’ll all support you” Chan says going in for a hug

{name} accepted the hug, It was no surprise he’d react this way, he was probably the best leader any group could have, but there was always a thought that leaving in the middle of preparing for another comeback was just selfish competing with the his other thought that if he doesn't take a break his lack of motivation could imperil the group and his relationship with his members

“Seriously don't worry about us, we can talk to the company together and figure out how to handle this. Take care of yourself”

[2 Days later]

For some reason having everyone here talking about this felt embarrassing, almost as if he should be punished for not being strong enough to keep going. The members sat gathered around the main room sitting wherever they could fit

As Chan explained why they were all called here, the attention was fully on him and {name} the only two standing, the atmosphere was awkward but free of judgment. Chan gave {name} a pat on the back before sitting on the couch armrest by Minho “I want to start by saying I love you all, I'm very grateful to be a part of this group and have you guys as my brothers, but lately…I haven't been okay”

The room immediately falls silent, the member's once playful expressions fading into furrowed brows and worried glances. Looking down to avoid eye contact {name} continues “I’ve been feeling burnt out for a while now. I didn't tell you guys because I didn’t want to disappoint you, but it’s been getting harder every day. I feel like I can’t give 100% anymore to our fans, you, or even myself. I already talked to Chan about it, and we both agreed that I needed to take a break”

There was a brief moment of stunned silence with the boys exchanging glances and processing his words. Still unable to meet their eyes {name} continues “I know this might make things harder for all of you. I hate the idea of leaving you even for a little while, but I need this time to figure things out, I’m really sorry”

Jeongin is the first to speak up “Hyung why are you apologizing? You dont have to be sorry for taking care of yourself” his voice wavering slightly “You’ve been so strong for all of us. If you’re feeling this way, we’ll support you no matter what”. Changbin’s usually playful personality wasn’t present 

“{name}ie, we’ve always said that we’d support each other through anything, and this is no different. Your health comes first. The group will manage without you for however long you need—we’ll make it work. You just focus on getting better.”

Felix made a slight humming sound nodding his head to agree “when you’re ready to come back we’ll be here waiting for you”

Felix got up walking to where {name} was standing pulling him into a hug. It didn’t take long before it became a group hug

5 days in, not much has changed aside from now being over rested. It wasn’t a bad change though. Despite the comfort {name} knew it was time to get out of bed and start taking care of himself 

When he walked to the living room his mom was watching the news, it was nothing important just something to follow the weather report 

“Ma?” hearing her son’s voice she looks over “oh you're up?, how are you feeling?” It was a quick glance as she continued to watching the news

“I feel a little better” {name} says walking over to the kitchen behind the couch. “That’s good, I made you something. Also when you’re done eating do you think you could go to the store for me”

This time instead of glancing she got up and walked over to him lifting the cover off the breakfast she made. {name} didn’t have anything else to do so the answer was easy “yea, what do you need me to get”

With 3 things left to find on the list his mom gave to him he turns the cart into another isle to be met with a man standing in front of 1 of 3 things

“Excuse me?” {name} called, The man turned around surprised “Oh! Hi {name}nim,”. It was Soobin, {name} knew him, he was the leader of his friend Yeonjun’s group. {name} had went out to restaurants and played games with members before, but only when Yeonjun was there

Soobin had also recently went on hiatus for health issues, “I saw that you’re also on hiatus now, how are you?”. {name} answered his question while placing what he needed in the cart “I’m doing well, what about you? your break is almost done”

“Ah, I’m good, I feel better” Soobin said observing the cart and its keepings. “{name}nim are you in a hurry to go home after this” 

“Not really,” there wasn’t much for {name} to do at home besides watching tv and talking to his mom and their dog, the groceries weren’t an urgent need

“There’s a café close, do you want to get coffee together?” Soobin asked looking as if he wanted any answer but a the word no

Or is this delusion? Either way no wasn’t an option “yea, I just need 2 more things though”, Soobin smiled softly “What else? Let’s look for them together. I couldn’t find what I wanted anyway”. He took the small blue paper from {name}’s hand

After ordering they took a seat in a corner with the grocery bags resting below them. Soobin angled his head trying to see the one that kept turning over

“Did you just want to get coffee, or did you want to talk about something?” Just a curious question from {name}. Soobin looked up with that one slightly surprised bunny expression he has

S-“I just thought about how I’ve never gotten the chance to talk to you alone”. 

{N}-“Tomorrow I have nothing to do, do you want to go somewhere together?”

For the first time in a while seeing someone didn’t feel like a chore to {name}, if anything it was his main motivation to do better

How would he go see Soobin if he hadn’t showered, brushed his teeth, or got dressed

At this point he’s gotten up early and showered for it to return as a habit. His phone lights up, 2:05 am, from Soobin 

“Hey {name}ie, do you want to go to the store with me?”

{N}- “Soobie it’s so late why are you up😭”

S- “we had to re-record a few things and why are you still up {name}-nim”

{N}- “alright,” “don’t question me” “I’ll go get ready and wait for you outside”

It wasn’t anything speacial but these past 4 months, even though Soobin when back to schedules, {name} has been going on late night or early morning walks with Soobin to a close store or to wherever they decide to stop, talking about any and everything

Surprisingly and unsurprisingly they had a lot in common, and Soobin tells {name} about everything that happens while he’s on hiatus 

Like Felix getting lost on stage again, Jeongin and Beomgyu annoying both groups, and messages of how much both Stay and the kids miss him 

The last one always feels like he was sent to recruit {name} from hiatus. “So how much longer do you think you’ll be on hiatus?” 

He’s been thinking about it, finally seeing his members again. As much as he needed this break, he now misses his members 1000 times more, calls weren’t enough 

Soobin has of course been great company, another thing he’s been thinking about

“Hmm, tomorrow” of course it definitely wasn’t thought out but {name} was tired of not being able to see them

“Really?!” Soobin stopped walking for a while until {name} reached beside him and turned to face him

{name} shook his head “mhm, also since you’re usually the one inviting me for walks, I invited you this time because I wanted to tell you something…”

They were back to walking. Soobin looked over again “Oh? {name}ie what is it?” 

“I like you” a sentence enough to stop their movement again. “I wanted to tell before I got off hiatus since our schedules probably won’t match anymore”

Blank stare. Blink. Was it a mistake? Did he misunderstand?

“{name} are you sure you’re ready to go back to the dorms?” His mom asked looking at him from the doorway

“Yea, I’ll be okay. I was okay when i debuted, I’ll be okay now” he glanced around his old room.

Knock Knock

“Mom did you invite someone?” “No, I’ll go check”. A few minutes later a stream of familiar chatter flowed down the hallway 

“{NAME}IE” Changbin already shouting before they all got into view. {name} got up meeting the members halfway at tge door, Felix was the first one to pull him into a hug

“Oh- why are you guys here?!” {name} accepted the hug motioning for the other boys to join which they did without hesitation except for Chan who just answered giggling at the scene “we had a day off so we wanted to come pick you up”

They separate with the younger members moving to do their own little inspection of the room that held their oldest brother for months 

“Are you feeling better?” Chan asked walking over and picking up {name}’s packed bag. “Yeah, I can’t wait to go back”

2024 MAMA Awards 

Hours of announcements and 4-5 awards won for the night, a performance is the perfect time for a bathroom break

Jisung and Hyunjin went along too. As they entered the bathroom Soobin was by the sink washing his hands and looked over 

The two boys beside {name} quickly greeted Soobin before entering their own stalls

Soobin grab a paper towel drying his hand before speaking. “{name}, I’m sorry,” “it doesn’t matter” before {name} walk away Soobin caught his hand

“After the awards, I’ll be outside for a while just come talk to me” Soobin finished throwing the paper towel away before hurrying back to his seat 

Soobin sat outside on a bench a bit near the building, a vacant area compared to the front littered with confused idols trying to get to their correct vans. {name}’s slow steps lead right to him. Soobin looked up blurry eyed “You're here”. {name} took a seat beside him only looking ahead as if there was something interesting about the same trees hes seen before

“What did you want to talk about Soobin?”. Sooobin let out a light sigh before sitting back “{name}, when you told me you liked me i was scared. I'm sorry”, “why are you saying sorry, it's okay, you don't need to like me , just say thank you for liking me, it sounds better”. 

Looking at each other Soobin finally lets himself smile, even if it was a small one, “thank you for liking me, but i like you too”. “Oh. Soobin-ah thank you, i really liked being around you, but this time i i’d rather someone who gives me the same effort i give”

Soobin glanced down for a second before looking back up to meet {name}’s evercalm expression, “hyung, i'll try again. I promise i wont make you feel that way again”.

“Go for it”

[tiddygame]

Ghoap god type au part 10!

Ao3 /// part 1 /// part 2 /// part 3 /// part 4 /// part 5 /// part 6 /// part 7 /// part 8 /// part 9 /// part 10

WERE ALMOST THERE LESSGO

Everyone say thank you to my friend Aster who has no interest in Call of Duty whatsoever, but let me talk to them about this fic for almost two fucking hours and use them as a rubber duck to fix some issues with the plot. Thank you, Aster! And sorry for ranting to you about Call of Duty fanfiction for TWO. FUCKING. HOURS. :,)

edit: why does the formatting always break after i post 😭

@imjustheretofightforlove / @pieckyghost / @life-as-a-gamergirl

...

The plan was simple, in theory.

Before the war began, tunnels had been dug into the mountain; At the time, their numbers, both of men and supplies, were outgrowing the fort, even with it being as big as it was. It was supposed to eventually become a store room, winding passageways connecting to create an outline.

Then war came knocking. Their supplies dwindled, they lost men, and the tunnels became nothing more than a forgotten project. Once they sat as an odd reminder of how far the fort had fallen; to have gone from carving through stone for extra room for all of their supplies to barely able to avoid hypothermia at night was a haunting ghost of their fall from grace.

But, perhaps now they could offer their salvation.

The Captain’s men were to set a scene; They hid the evidence of the medical center the once formidable fort had become and made it look like it had been bustling with life. 

Initially, they tossed around the idea of moving the sick and injured out but abandoned the idea quickly. It involved too much risk, too many variables; Some wouldn’t have survived the trip.

Instead they prepped the unused warehouse and war room. They moved the worst off into the buildings and those who had a better chance at fighting into the walls. Snow would cover the amount of movement that had happened over the course of executing their plan. 

The healthy few would  silently tell the story of a panicked and hasty retreat that looked as if it had happened just minutes prior.

They laid false tracks, leading to the tunnels. Tunnels that could perhaps be mistaken for an evacuation route by those unfamiliar with the area or a group in the rush of a promised battle. Tunnels that could trap those who charged in blindly. Tunnels that had one entrance, one exit.

And they waited, placing their trust in the reluctant apostle of a forgotten god.

…

Ghost had returned to camp well into the night; the air didn’t feel as frigid after sleeping on a mountain. The trek was much easier the second time, having two advantages with setting out earlier and not losing his fucking mind in a dead man’s cabin.

The general hadn’t asked him any questions. Just said that it was a shame he didn’t catch anything and that dinner had already been served.

That first night, Ghost fell in and out of a fitful sleep, unable to rest. He kept his weapons placed strategically, waiting for the ambush. There was no way they did not know of his betrayal.

Yet, the ambush never came. They marched on. 

It took weeks for the entire camp to make the journey that had taken him a single day. The snowy weather only worsened in protest of spring looming closer.

When the general sent out the platoon, Ghost was filled with so much  dread that he couldn’t feel anxious. He knew how to stay calm in dire situations, but this wasn’t that. He wasn’t calm, it was like he had hit his limit of how much stress he was able to process and was left hollow.

The morning was far too calm for the bloodshed that was bound to occur on either side. Tragedy was imminent and the sun hadn’t even crested the horizon.

Staring at the closed gates of the fortress in formation with men he should have called brother, he had a sinking feeling that he was going to be reunited with his old friend before the next sunrise.

He thought he might have heard that friend telling him to breathe.

Ghost was not the one leading the charge, no, he wasn’t trusted enough for that, but he was on the front lines. He was one of the first to push through the gates, to search for the enemy, and perhaps might have even been the one to pointedly stare at the obvious trail leading to the tunnels.

He may or may not have been right behind the commanding officer that followed the trail with his weapon drawn. 

And when they realized that the tunnels were nothing more than a circuitous dead end, they filed out in reverse order. The passages were not wide enough for two armored soldiers to pass by each other, forcing them to slowly and awkwardly work their way out of the commander’s shortsightedness one by one. 

The commanding officer, Ghost, and whatever other poor fools that had been stuck on the front line were still at the back when the Captain called to fire. 

Archers that had been lying in wait, hiding atop the walls, picked off the soldiers that made their way out one by one. The Captain’s men were greatly outnumbered, but those numbers offered no help when the only soldiers that made their way out were turned into pincushions.

It did not take them long to realize that the exit was impassable, and they fell back, looking to their commanding officer for an order.

Their commanding officer, whose head had been cleaved in two by someone who was once on their side. Some were frozen in fear, some charged towards the defector, and some attempted to flee. 

Those with delusions of bravery were cut down quickly, same went for the ones that froze. As for the rest, the traitor found a perverse satisfaction from attacking the back of a fleeing man, just as they had done to their enemies. 

The only light was from the few that had carried in torches. As they dropped, the shadows grew twisted and distorted, corrupted by the betrayal. 

The soldiers that made it to the exit found that swordsmen had joined the archers in blocking the exit. They turned back once more and saw the carnage caused by a wraith covered in the blood of their allies. 

They had a choice, not to live or die, but of which blade to be struck down by.

The mountain reeked of copper.

The sounds of a slaughter quietened.

The swordsmen did not holster their weapons. The archers did not drop their arrows. The Captain did not give the order to stand down. Each and every one of them waited to see who would exit the tunnels.

The silence was cut through by the sound of squelching, the sound of piles of corpses being stepped on as one man exited.

The traitor emerged, black cloak turned red. 

The Captain’s men cheered. 

The traitor did not.

They relit the fires that had been snuffed. The bodies were removed and treated with an undeserved amount of care as they were lined up and piled. Despite just cheering their deaths, they gave the felled enemy the mercy of a proper funeral.

They knew that their own allies had not been given the same treatment, but refused to stoop to the enemy’s level. The Captain watched as the pyre was lit. Soon after, they dispersed, preparing the fort for regular, day-to-day life.

The Captain stayed and kneeled by the roaring flame, tending to it, making sure it continued to burn. 

The traitor approached, stood next to him. He took off his armor piece by piece and tossed it onto the fire. It was soaked in blood, the insignia that once denoted him as one of the mighty general’s soldiers was hidden beneath the carnage that he had wrought. 

They both watched the fire.

The traitor walked towards the gate. The Captain stopped him. Thanked him. Held out his hand to shake. It was stared at for a long time.

The traitor accepted and shook his hand. He found that the Captain held money in his palm, an award for his treachery. Blood money. It was still accepted.

The Captain wore a gaze too kind for the size of the pyre behind him. Told the traitor that should he need it, he would have a roof for himself at the fort. One that did not require pledging a blade nor a life to his army.

The Captain said that they all owed him their lives.

The traitor disagreed but said nothing. He walked down the path to his steed, covered in the blood of his old allies, money in hand.

…

Ghost came back to himself sitting in a freezing river.

Ice and snow dotted the muddy banks in clumps. 

His horse was hitched to a tree. 

Water lapped at his neck; he was kneeling and hunched over enough that only his head was not submerged. Blood trailed away from him, following the flow of the river. 

His sword had been dropped on the snowy bank, pulled slightly by the water but still secure where it sat. His halberd had been buried into the riverbed, the ax slammed into the mud with enough force to hold it in place against the current.

First he realized someone was humming. 

Then he realized someone was holding his head to their chest. 

And then that they were wiping his face and neck, cleaning what the water could not reach.

Ghost closed his eyes and let himself collapse fully into Soap’s arms.

His tune did not stutter. He just held the broken man closer, pressing his lips against his hair and rocking them back and forth.

Ghost clung onto the arm stretched across his chest like it was a lifeline. And it might as well have been. Soap might as well have been. 

He couldn’t tell if he was breathing.

A former gladiator, forced to the ground and shaking because he had to kill people.

He was cold, but not as cold as he should have been. Submerged in a frozen river, he should have already been dead, but Soap didn’t let him feel more than a watery chill.

His fingers weren’t numb, yet he couldn’t feel them. He was trying. He wanted to feel the current, to feel the flow of water, but they might as well have not been there, refusing to respond.

He would never return to camp nor meet the general’s ire ever again.

There was a bird on the ground. A little waxwing. Hopping around and pecking the dirt. It scratched at the rocky bank for a moment before taking flight, landing in the branches of a leafless tree.

The little waxwing ruffled its feathers and shook its head. It called out a few times before taking off again, flying somewhere Ghost couldn’t watch it anymore. He wished it had lingered just a little longer.

He would have thought he was hyperventilating if not for the fact that he watched  his slow, steady puffs of air freeze in the wind.

After spending too long drifting away, Ghost found it within himself to ask, “What happens now?”

Soap hummed, “Find somewhere safe for tonight, eat something warm, and rest.”

He said it so simply without even having to think about it. It was obvious to Soap.

“And then after that?” Ghost asked, not able to accept that it was that easy.

“One step at a time,” he said gently, running a wet hand through his hair.

Ghost shook his head, his anxiety growing, his breathing getting quicker. He knew what Soap was trying to say, but to him it sounded like there was no plan. Like the only thing he could do was focus on tonight because there was no tomorrow. 

“Hey,” Soap pulled him back, pressing his lips to his temple, “Heroes for hire, right?”

“I’m—,” Ghost stuttered a moment before he remembered confiding in him about an old friend. “—Surprised you remember that,” he finished in a mumble. It was said so softly, a mortal man wouldn’t have heard it over the rush of water.

The god smiled, “Of course. You said it, didn’t you?”

The words bounced around in his mind but failed to process them.

“It’s up to you to live out the dream, for both of you.” Hope came so easily to Soap and Ghost would have given anything to have a fraction of his love for the world.

Soap paused the rocking as something spooked a small flock of birds that were sitting in a nearby tree. Ghost could see out of the corner of his eye the way the god glared over at them, daring anyone or anything to intrude on… whatever was happening.

As soon as Soap was certain that there was no imminent threat, he returned to his rocking and rested his head against the top of Ghost’s.

Ghost, ever the contrarian, cynically asked, “The dream of running around, demanding money from people in need?”

It was the very thing that had him itching for a fight when getting the kid medical attention; Someone taking advantage of another’s desperation for a little bit more change in their pocket. 

Was that the life Ghost was meant to strive for?

Despite the (surely by now, very annoying) pessimism, Soap easily amended, “Running free, helping people in exchange for a warm meal.”

“You remind me of him,” Ghost said before he could think better of it.

Soap was silent, Ghost didn’t know how long for. His thoughts were split between regret for voicing the comparison and guilt at the reminder of his long lost friend. When he found it within himself to pull far enough away to see Soap’s face, he found that he was wearing a soft smile.

Soap asked gently, “What’s his name?” 

Ghost wasn’t used to so much gentleness directed towards him of all people and struggled with the question. Ghost wanted to answer, but he couldn’t.

Soap, in all of his kindness, waited. Let him sit there and flounder under a simple task with enough patience to ascend him to divinity if he weren’t already a god.

Ghost took a deep breath and closed his eyes. 

He exhaled shakily.

“Roach. His name was Roach.”

Ghost felt years upon years of delayed grief hit him at once.

“He—” 

His voice broke. After all of that, his voice broke after six words. 

Fucking years of never-ending torment made bearable by one man’s presence and he didn’t have the decency to give out more than his name? Gods, the amount of fights he wanted to lose just so it would be over but kept going because of him and that was all Ghost had to offer? Six fucking words!?

“—Is very proud of you, I’m sure,” Soap finished his sentence for him, “And happy that you’ve come so far.”

I am.

“Both of you need to shut up,” Ghost grumbled, his lip curling at the nauseating words from both of them. 

He reopened his eyes slowly. The snow was still just as bright as before, the water was still moving, and the wind continued to shake empty tree branches.

He stood very slowly; He didn’t know how long he was kneeling for, but he did know that it was long enough for his legs to lock into place and one of his feet to fall asleep.

Soap stood with him, holding onto his arm to make sure he didn’t fall. He couldn’t be embarrassed, he certainly needed the help (not to mention he had done the same thing to Soap not too long ago). 

With his foot only half-assedly responding, he limped towards Taxes. Soap did not let go until Ghost grabbed onto her and started petting her mane. 

It took Ghost far too long to realize that his clothes were inexplicably dry. It should have been the first thing he noticed as soon as he stood, and yet…

He couldn’t afford to get lost in his own head again. 

Ghost removed his gloves to feel the coarse hair of Taxes’s winter coat beneath his hands and stared down at his feet, noting any and every detail about the snow and twigs beneath him.

Soap grabbed his weapons from the river for him and set them against the tree. Part of the ax and speartip were muddy, a line showing where they had been sunk into the riverbed. 

He watched, entranced, as the water on the blades frosted over and coated the metal in a sheen of white. He couldn’t tell how cold it was with the god shielding him from most of it, but if it froze that quickly…

It only served as yet another testament to how much Soap did for him with little to nothing in return. 

There was a tangle in Taxes’s mane.

He brushed through it slowly. Soap patted Ghost’s shoulder and let his hand linger there. Part of Ghost wondered if the god was as touch-starved as he was.

“Do you know where the nearest town is?” Soap asked. He was probably about to have to leave again.

Ghost nodded slowly. 

Ghost was going to a town. To find a hotel. So he could rent a room. And stay there. Because he wasn’t going back to camp again. Ever. He couldn’t. 

And again, it was Soap who pulled him back. 

Soap dropped his hand to grab Ghost’s, squeezing it with that complicated look of emotions that Ghost wasn’t willing to unpack. Nothing was said, but Ghost squeezed his hand back.

They stared for a while, Ghost still trying to process how to function under the crushing weight of freedom and Soap doing whatever it is that Soap does.

Soon, the god was stepping back but did not let go of his hand. The complex array of emotions was taken over by one he knew very well: An unwilling goodbye. 

It was the sad smile of someone not wanting to leave but already anticipating their next reunion; Seeing it on Soap and about him made him feel… odd. There was a pain in his chest, but one he wanted to seek out instead of avoid. Ghost still managed to find guilt in causing Soap any negative emotion.

Soap said in a voice that was only just loud enough to be heard and no louder, “Well, I’ll… try to see you there.” 

He admitted the “trying” part reluctantly, as if ashamed by his own limits. Ghost wanted to reassure him that it was okay, but words were never his strong suit.

You should kiss his hand.

Ghost pulled Soap’s hand closer and pressed a kiss to Soap’s knuckles like some stupid scene from a stupid fairytale. As he pulled away, he rubbed his thumb across where he just kissed and let go.

Soap’s eyes were wide and a blush was just visible against his tan skin. Ghost felt pride well up from somewhere deep inside him; He, Ghost, a mortal man, just made Death blush.

“Until we meet again,” Ghost said with a sarcastically pompous tone and a burgeoning smile as he got on his horse, hoping a message that he himself wasn’t clear on was clear to Soap.

The god was still gawking at him, frozen in surprise even as Ghost rode towards the faint path in the snow. It wasn’t until he checked behind him and saw that the god was gone that his brain turned back on and practically screamed at him that he’s an idiot.

Because, yes, the god was frozen in shock, but why the fuck did he assume Soap was frozen because he was happy about Ghost kissing his hand?

Ghost closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. 

This was the fucking bar fight thing all over again. He had assumed that Soap wanted or needed his help to get down and made a fool of himself back then, and the same had happened once more. 

Except worse. Because he just fucking kissed his hand. Unprompted.

Well… unprompted from Soap, at least.

Quit your whining. Soap’s a god, if he didn’t like it, he’d have done something about it.

Which was the same excuse he had given after the cabin.

I was correct then, and I’m correct now!

He buried his face in his hands. Gods, why didn’t Ghost just fucking ignore him like he always did? Everything would have been fine if he hadn’t acted on some stupid little voice inside his fucking head—

You’re gonna thank me when all of this is said and done.

Ghost couldn’t take it anymore and yelled in exasperation to an empty, snowy forest, “When all of what is said and done!?”

Predictably, the trees held no answer and he heard the faint echo of a familiar laugh from somewhere in his own head. Ghost resituated and mocked the voice, hoping his annoyance was clear.

The town was hours away, and he’d spend every minute of the ride stewing in the agony of knowing he was an easily manipulated, stupid idiot. He sighed, although it quickly turned into a frustrated groan.

“Fuck you,” Ghost grumbled.

Aww, you’re so nice to me!

Ghost could picture his stupid shit-eating grin without even being able to see him. He shook his head and reminded himself that he was angry at him and shouldn’t smile at his joke. Fucker.

…

The room he had been given was comfortably small, most of the area taken up by a large bed centered on one of the walls, with a floor that creaked every time he shifted his weight.

Most of the light streamed in from the windows that overlooked the tree line although a few dim lanterns were dotted about the room. A wood stove in the corner was working to fend off the frigid weather with a small table and chairs under one of the windows.

Ghost barely took the time to check the room before dropping his gear and outerwear unceremoniously to the floor. It was warmer than what he would have expected and the bed was calling his name even though it couldn’t have been past noon.

He still needed to give the god an offering, both as a part of his daily routine and as a thanks. Ghost couldn’t help but yearn for when it was warm enough for him to go searching for Soap’s temples.

He missed the thrill of exploration, the rewarding feeling upon properly reading the environmental clues, and comfort once near one of his old shrines. As soon as spring began to scare away the snow or he was far enough south for it to warm up, he’d have to find one again.

He stared at the ceiling above him in case it had any ideas for possible offerings hidden in the wood grain. Nope. But the bed was more comfortable than he expected.

The quilt overtop of it was rough, scratchy, and heavy in a way that he knew he would not struggle to stay warm that night — It reminded him of one his mother had made years and years ago. The unrefined stitching was charming; whoever made it cared more about functionality than looks and wanted something warm as opposed to pretty.

Uncomfortable, lumpy pillows sat against the headboard. The last time he had slept with an actual pillow was… probably back in Soap’s temple after the bookstore debacle. (He still had no idea where Soap had gotten it and the blanket from).

Sure, most people would probably call it pretty shitty, but he wasn’t on a cot, in a sleeping bag, or staring up at a canvas tent. To him, it was perfect.

While he was cold, he did not get under the covers. He knew that he was lying to himself that he would be able to stay awake if he did.

But he definitely wasn’t lying to himself about staying awake as long as he just laid on top of the blankets. The fact that he blinked and suddenly the sun was much closer to the horizon than it had been a moment ago meant nothing.

The cause of his vexation was sitting at the table. Soap was staring out the window with his chin propped up on his hand, Ghost could only see the back of his head. He was tapping his fingers against his arm.

Ghost reluctantly sat up and stretched, afterwards having to blink several times for the world to return to normal.

“I was wondering when you were going to wake up,” Soap commented without turning away from the window.

“Should’ve woken me, then,” Ghost grumbled. He was surprised by the rasp in his own voice, making a face of confusion, only then realizing how deeply he must have slept. He moved his legs over the side of the bed like he was going to stand, but as soon as he realized that standing meant leaving the bed, he changed his mind.

Soap chuckled quietly, now looking at him. “I’d rather kill myself than interrupt your sleep.”

“Fucking hell! Alright, gods…” Ghost responded as if he wouldn’t make a similarly grim joke. “How long have you been waiting?” he asked, fruitlessly trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.

“Not long.” Soap answered fast enough that Ghost knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was lying. He rubbed his eyes harder, now wondering how long Soap had to wait on him.

When he finished, he found Soap staring at him. As soon as he saw that Ghost had noticed him, Soap looked away, shifting in his chair and messing with his hands.

It was Ghost’s turn to stare now as he tried to figure out what made him so antsy and… was he blushing? What— 

Oh yeah. 

That.

Fuck.

How does he even begin to apologize for kissing Soap’s hand?

Tell him you want to kiss him on the lips.

Ghost wanted to throw something out the window. That stupid little voice was the very reason he was in this fucking predicament to begin with!

Oh, boo hoo. Now kiss.

Ghost took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry about earlier—”

“I’m sorry I made you—”

They started speaking at the same time, both apologizing but cutting each other off before the reason for the apology could be revealed. They paused and a slightly awkward laugh was shared as a tense air fell over them.

“You first,” Ghost said before Soap could, delaying the inevitable.

“I’m sorry I made you do— well— all of this,” Soap said, looking anywhere but at Ghost, gesturing around.

“All of what?” Ghost asked.

“This,” Soap said again. “The— The betrayal, the cabin, the ambush— all of it.” He finally looked back at Ghost, his voice filled with regret. “I’m glad you’re not there any more—” If he said it with any more anger, smoke would have been pouring from his lips. “—But I wish it hadn’t come with… everything else.”

Ghost sighed sadly, upset at the idea that Soap believed he owed an apology for pushing him to leave the general’s side. “Soap—”

“Nope! Your turn! What do you think you have to apologize for?” he interrupted quickly, his tone pulling a 180 with a hypocritical denial to hear any push back on whether he needed to apologize. 

The last part of his statement didn’t make any sense; It should have been obvious why he was apologizing. Ghost had just kissed his hand out of nowhere, of course he needed to apologize for that. 

Did Soap somehow forget? Was it that bad that he immediately repressed it to the point he didn’t even remember Ghost’s fuck up? Did he just want to pretend it never happened and brush it aside in the hopes it wouldn’t happen again?

Well, Soap would be right about that — Ghost sure as shit wasn’t going to make a mistake of that magnitude again. He owed that much to Soap, at least. He couldn’t let himself establish this pattern of constantly and consistently overstepping—

“Ghost?”

His head shot up. Soap was looking at him concerned. 

Right. They were talking.

He started his apology, “I’m sorry about earlier…” 

But Ghost always has been and always will be a coward. “With— um, not giving you an offering.” Gods, what is wrong with him? Stupidly, he stuck to his lie. “I, I tried to think of something— of an offering—”

Unless pretending he wasn’t upset about it was a test to see if he’d still apologize without Soap having to mention it, to see if he was actually sorry, and he just failed.

He was staring firmly at a knot in the floorboards as his hands mindlessly picked at his nails. He was never sure if it was a habit he formed to distract his hands or if it was because he wanted the pain of picking them too far.

Breathe.

“Ghost.” 

Soap had stood up, was standing in front of him. His eyes widened, not having heard the god’s approach. He grabbed Ghost’s hands and pulled them apart. When his thumb absently moved to keep picking at his nails, Soap clasped their hands together to prevent the action. 

Soap, perfectly fine with turning Ghost’s world on its head with just a few words, said so softly, “I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it. You do not owe me. You have done more for me than I could ever put into words.” Soap brought his hands together and kissed his knuckles.

If Ghost wasn’t blushing before, he definitely was now. And he wasn’t even wearing his mask.

I FUCKING TOLD YOU, YOU STUPID LITTLE BITCH.

Ghost snorted. 

Which was not the right response to Soap’s heartfelt words, but damn if dead people don’t have awful timing. Knowing just how bad of a response it was made him chuckle more, shaking his head.

“I— I’m sorry—” He was still giggling.

“What?” Soap thankfully sounded more confused than offended.

“Roach, he—” Still giggling. He could feel the dead bastard’s smug grin in his sudden silence.

“What…? Wait, did he say something?” Soap asked, catching on. “He did, didn’t he? What did he say?” Soap had a growing smile, almost laughing along with Ghost even though he had yet to find out what was so funny.

“…Nothing,” Ghost said unconvincingly. Gods, how does he explain what he said without recounting every time the asshole demanded that he flirt with Soap.

“He was making fun of me, wasn’t he?”

“No, no—”

“No? Then what was it?”

“He’s mean to me,” Ghost tattled, trying to stop laughing.

Am not. Pussy.

“You’re not gonna tell me, are you?”

“You don’t want to know,” Ghost said honestly, shaking his head. Without thinking beyond just wanting to hide, he dropped his head and closed his eyes in embarrassment, the crown of his head resting against Soap’s sternum. 

Which solved his problem of wanting to hide, but created a new problem in not knowing what to do with his hands as Soap let go. 

Gods, so much was fucking happening and he was still barely awake.

Shakingly, hesitantly, his hands fell to Soap’s sides. He was still too caught up in his own issues for the forefront of his mind to pay much attention to the action, leaving his subconscious to decide that it was the right move.

His hands were clenched in a loose fist, as if his subconscious thought that it would fix any worry of the motion being mistaken for wandering, grabbing hands. 

Part of him, the stupid part, wanted to pull the god closer and, at first, he couldn’t figure out why. But Roach’s influence must be rubbing off on him because he realized he wanted a hug. 

How fucking embarrassing.

What was even more embarrassing was how much his blush worsened when Soap brought his own hands up, one brushing through his hair and one resting on his shoulder, occasionally rubbing half-circles with his thumb.

Recompense.

That was the only thing Ghost could think of in that moment. What could he do in return.

He just said you don’t need to give him anything, dumbass.

Yeah, thanks, dumbass, but he wanted to give him something. Ghost from a year ago would have scoffed at that idea and probably make fun of him too, but a year ago the only thing he had to look forward to was dying on the battlefield.

“Simon,” he said quietly without thinking about it a moment more.

“Hmm?” Soap asked quietly, neither of his hands pausing.

“My name— It’s Simon.” He lifted his head from where it was resting but did not look up. He would lose his nerve if he tried looking up at the god, so he decided that the third button from the bottom on Soap’s shirt would be just fine as a replacement.

It wasn’t the kind of offering the god needed, it didn’t have much of any meaning aside from another way to address him, but it meant something to Ghost, at least. The gods didn’t care about his weird personal plight with his real name given to him by his Mother versus the moniker bestowed upon him by those placing bets on when he’d die, but maybe it could mean something to Soap too.

“Thank you, Simon,” said Soap, still running his fingers through his hair.

And the way he said it, maybe it did mean as much to Soap as it did to Ghost. It was just his name, but it had tears welling up in his eyes. He did not know how long it had been since someone called him by his actual name.

(He did. It was the last thing Roach had said, his last words wasted on trying to save Ghost, calling out for him to move before acting for him.)

He still couldn’t look up at him, but he did manage to pull up enough to now be staring at the fifth button on his shirt. No one knowing him as anything other than Ghost was a self imposed punishment; He could have, at any given time, told people his name, but he didn’t.

And he wouldn’t. Not after how nice Soap said it. No, he would like to keep that to himself and Soap.

“I think my name was John.”

Ghost heard the way he said it. It was the same way Ghost had confessed his: quick and impulsive, saying it before your fears could talk you out of it. 

He finally pulled his eyes up, making eye contact for a split second before he settled for staring at some point on his cheek. Ghost was still sitting on the bed while Soap stood, the exaggerated height difference only making the moment of vulnerability that much more intimidating.

“John?” Ghost asked to confirm.

Soap inhaled shakily, like finally hearing someone else call him by his name confirmed hazy memories. “All of it’s fuzzy, but… I— I think it was.”

Ghost knew he would never understand the full weight of that confession but he knew that he felt happy that Soap trusted him enough for it, that Ghost may have been able to help him find solace with a question he might never be able to answer.

He would never know the origin of Death and it wasn’t a question he felt too pressed to find an answer for, not when he was sitting in front of it, fucking holding him. Knowing the name he had before becoming Death was more than enough for Ghost.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Johnny,” Simon said, squeezing his hand.

“Is it?” Johnny asked, a question loaded with more than what was directly said.

While Simon did not know what all the god wanted to ask, he knew what his answer was regardless. “Yes, I think it is.” 

The hand that had been on his shoulder moved under his chin and slowly tilted his head up. 

It wasn’t the first time the god had done it, but his breath still hitched; the god did it the same way every time, always careful, always with a touch light enough to be a suggestion and nothing more, never forcing. And like every other time, he obliged.

Simon still dodged the eye contact like it would cause him physical pain if their eyes met, but he took in every other detail of Johnny’s face; The lingering blush, the expression that Simon couldn’t describe as anything other than awe even though that couldn’t be what it was, and (after a courage-gathering inhale) the eyes that were not looking at his own, but staring at his lips.

It took Ghost an embarrassing amount of time to realize, ‘Oh, he wants to kiss me.’

And as soon as he did, a million and one fears ran through his head, all about messing it up or misinterpreting it, but the closer Soap got, the more muffled they became. 

And, well, thinking had never done him any good, so he made an impulsive decision and crossed the last half of an inch between them.

Ghost hesitantly brought his hand to rest on Soap’s cheek, reassured when Soap did something similar and held the back of his neck. Soap held his hand there like it was protection, covering a weak spot during a moment of vulnerability. 

Vulnerable was really the only word he could use to describe it. Normally, where the word would bring fears of helplessness and going unprotected, he only felt comfort. Intimacy, his brain provided.

There was nothing he could do to try to describe it, partially because it broke his brain, but what else is new.

When they separated, Soap’s chest was moving like he was breathing heavy, like he had run out of air. Ghost smiled; He knew it was no physical limitation causing his perceived breathlessness. 

But they didn’t stay separated long. No, now that kissing was on the table, it was going to be taken fully advantage of.

Soap was the one to close the distance the second time, now holding Ghost’s face in both hands, one still on the back of his neck and the other positioned so his thumb could rub his cheek, just under his eye.

Ghost was completely out of his element but he trusted Soap. Johnny stepped closer, resting his knee on the bed next to one of Simon’s own. He almost laughed at himself; Earlier, he had scoffed at the fact that he wanted a hug, and now…

When the contact started to become too much and he remembered that he was supposed to be breathing, he tapped Soap’s wrist and pulled back. Soap thankfully understood, moving one hand back to his shoulder and the other ghosting the back of his neck. It was still contact, but much less all-encompassing; Something easier to digest without taking it away completely.

They sat in silence for a moment, processing and basking in the sudden development. Ghost felt like he was a kid sneaking into a closet to steal kisses from his sweetheart. The comparison made him blush more, and only then did he realize how red his cheeks must have been.

Simon wondered when the hell they had grown so close, wondered when the god managed to fully gain his trust without his notice.

It was anxiety-inducing and exhilarating all at once. And with Soap’s presence alone calming the anxious part of him, he was left with a delighted, fuzzy feeling that made the world feel a little more welcoming, a little bit brighter.

Ghost’s smile grew as he quietly teased, “And here I thought the kiss of Death was supposed to be a bad thing.”

Soap did something between a sigh and a scoff, like he wasn’t sure if he should take it as a compliment or a taunt. It seemed he took it as both, rolling his eyes even though the fond smile never left him.

“Oh, gods…” Ghost groaned in reluctant realization, his head falling against Johnny’s chest.

“What?” Johnny asked, his hands hovering, his worry palpable.

Simon pulled him closer as he groaned, “Roach is going to be so fucking smug.”

Damn fucking right I am, you stupid, lovable, delusionally oblivious bastard.

Soap huffed, clearly not having expected that development. “What do you mean he’s gonna be smug?”

Go on, tell him.

Ghost was now officially trying to hide against Soap, even though it was Soap he would want to hide from after this admission. He groaned like he was in grievous physical pain and (very) reluctantly admitted, “…Roach has been trying to tell me that you want to kiss me or that I should kiss you for weeks now.”

The words were so mumbled, Ghost hoped that Soap didn’t understand them. But of course he did. Simon heard Soap’s laugh as much as he felt it, and damn that pushy, dead freak, he wanted to burrow through the floorboards.

“Is… Is that why you kissed my hand in the forest?” Johnny asked, a grin audible in his voice.

He groaned again, just needing to make his annoyance known, and nodded against his chest. 

Soap’s arms landed on his back and held him, comforting him even as the traitor chuckled at Simon’s misery. “Well, he wasn’t wrong — And I’m very glad you chose to listen to him.”

Ghost held his breath for several seconds, though he had no idea what he was trying to achieve. When he breathed in again, he turned his head to the side, still resting against Soap but watching the sunset through the window.

I believe a thanks is in order.

“Thank you, Roach,” Ghost reluctantly mumbled, forgetting that Soap would hear it too. He needed another nap.

The god echoed his words, “Yes, thank you, Roach.”

Simon shook his head, “Don’t thank him too, his ego was already bad enough.”

“Well, I think he deserves it,” Johnny said, leaving Simon outnumbered. 

Ghost finally pulled his head up and stared at Soap. “That’s because you don’t have to listen to him—”

Soap quietened his petulant argument by kissing his forehead, stopping Ghost in his tracks and leaving him to blink blankly as his blush slowly grew worse as if they hadn’t kissed on the lips just a moment ago.

Haha, loser.

Simon looked away and resisted the urge to feel the spot the god kissed, who only chuckled at his reaction.

…

Although the sun had settled behind the mountains, he still braved the nighttime winds that rolled through the town. It had only been a few hours since he left Taxes in the hands of the local stable, but he couldn’t not check on her. So, to the stables he trekked.

The locals were wandering the street just fine, unfazed by the weather. Ghost, however, was not as acclimated.

It wasn’t long after Soap and Roach bullied him that the god had to leave, still bound by the limitations of his power. Ghost distantly wondered if he could give Johnny food offerings again and claim they were for dates… But the idea was left behind when it made him confront the idea that he might be dating a fucking god.

Flowers would still have to do… 

…Which are also something given on dates. Fuck.

He hugged the buildings, the store fronts and porches offered some protection from the wind that billowed down the street. There were more people out and about now, but even the nighttime rush was still quite quaint.

The hitching posts in front of the tavern were almost all taken. Fortunately, the building didn’t look too rowdy from where he glanced through the windows from the other side of the street; Soap would absolutely kill him if he got into another barfight.

When he finished trudging through all of the snow and got to the stable, he found that predictably, Taxes was fine, but that didn’t stop him from letting out a sigh of relief. When he went to pet her, she was reluctant for only a second or two before she remembered that she liked to be petted and demanded that Ghost continue and never stop.

He loved his stupid horse.

“We actually made it out, huh?” he mumbled, still not believing it himself.

Ghost’s small smile only grew when he realized that she didn’t even know that her life was about to change for the better; She’d never have to march into battle or deal with the general’s men ever again.

Tomorrow was going to be stressful, trying to figure out a plan of action and leave to avoid having to spend what little money he was given on another night in the town. But, now that he thought about it…

It was stupid beyond belief and proof that his survival instincts had been thoroughly fucked, but part of him considered taking the Captain up on his offer.

Out of one frying pan, into a second frying pan, out of that frying pan, and back into yet another fucking frying pan. Brilliant.

But he wasn’t indebted to the Captain, there was no reason for him to stay longer than necessary, and, well… 

Fucking hell, he wanted to trust what Captain Price had said about helping him, alright? Yes, it’s fucking stupid, but fuck he just wanted it to be true.

Maybe… Maybe he could “take a sabbatical” or some shit, follow through on the idea of finding a temple of Johnny’s, maybe shake the bastard by the collar and demand to know what the hell happens if you date a god, and then see if the Captain’s offer still stands.

It felt like it should have been suicidal to return to a military after finally breaking his chains, but— but he wanted to have hope, dammit.

Taxes let out an ear piercing whinny and stomped around, at which point Ghost realized she was probably pissed that he hadn’t brought her a treat. No doubt the stable hands had already given her something, but he’d like to keep the horse in his good graces.

Glancing around, there wasn’t anything left out in the stable for him to pilfer for her, meaning he’d have to go all the way back to his hotel room, get an apple or oatcake or something from his bag, and then come all the way back to give it to her.

“The lengths I go to for you…” Ghost mumbled in mock annoyance.

Softy.

“Shut up,” he demanded without any bite, rolling his eyes. He could still hear Roach’s chuckles echoing faintly from his own mind. He patted her nose in lieu of a goodbye and when he stepped away, she moved around in her stall, stomping some more. 

He shook his head and took a courage gathering inhale, dreading the frosty wind; He hoped Taxes appreciated that he was facing a snowstorm just to get her a snack. 

Making sure his cloak was pulled tight, he stepped into the snow, and made it three steps before hands grabbed him and his world went dark.

[drkcatt]

just got this chibi comm back from my friend and very awesome artist @ clawbound on twitter!!! minvaya and sweet little starbird 🥹🥹🥹

[dollywons]

giving a very loud thank you to jungwons parents omfg

[ciaoteamo]

Milk and Water (Pt. I)

pairings: doppelgänger!Milkman x fem!Reader

summary: One of the newest residents’ very first doppelgänger comes in, trying to sway you into to letting them in. Will you..?

pt.II

art credit (twt: loafuu_chii)

warning: 18+ content

“…what’s the story behind your um… ears(?)” You ask the doppelgänger before you. It was a clone of one of your favorite neighbors actually, her name was Maria.

A woman around your age that you became really close friends with over the few months of you working here.

“@&! !$?&” The doppelgänger let out a series of sounds.

“right, so give me one second” You press the bright red button next to the window and the steel blinds shut with a blaring alarm sound.

You call D.D.D. and they clean up their mess per usual. You once again, you were just thankful you didn’t have to work on that side of the glass.

You check your wrist watch, and happily sigh at the fact that you only had one more hour left to work.

“ mmm, someone’s eager to go home i see” A familiar voice speaks up.

“oh, Mr. Francis” You give the man a polite grin. He gave you a sly one in return. You knew it wasn’t him off the bat. Francis was usually shy towards you, making you want to tease him into blushing whenever you saw him.

Well, you suppose you could kill two birds with one stone. Flirt with the doppelgänger of your crush, and have some entertainment.

“how are you pretty girl” He asks, sliding an I.D. and sheet through the slot.

You examine the documents and identification and beam a smile up at him.

“the date on the I.D. is a little expired hun” You declare. He lets out a small chuckle and leans a little toward the glass.

“mmm, been busy with the milk business, love. must’ve slipped my mind to renew it” He replied. His eyes were low but he still held his sly grin. You leaned back in your chair, with a bored look on your face.

“you’re not like my Francis” You huff and tilt your head with a disappointed look.

His grin faltered and he stepped closer. His breathing had quickened a bit and he took off his hat. “who knows, i could be better” He suggests.

Now that his confidence had depleted a little, you were growing bored of him. You checked the time again and you had 45 minutes left.

“well i’ve gotta get you moving now. it was nice to see such a handsome face though, so thank you” You beam and reach for the button

“you don’t want to do this, trust me” He states with a warning tone. This wasn’t unusual, getting threats after realizing they’re doppelgängers, but being that this one was this aware… they must be evolving.

“and why would i trust you?” You ask out of curiosity.

“i mean look at me” He smirks, one arm leaned against the top of the window. His irises turned from their chocolate brown and into an empty pure white.

“hm” You nod and press the button.

“(Y/N)!” He roared with what you assume was his fist banging the glass.

You call D.D.D. and wait for them to clean their mess, again.

The steel blind begins to lift and you sit back in your seat, checking your watch again but noticed the new pink lighting that shone in.

You furrow your eyebrows and look up in horror as you see blood streaks on the window in thick, and dripping amounts. You jump out of your chair and put your back against the wall.

About 5 D.D.D. workers were piled up, bloody and battered in the corner of the room, and there the doppelgänger was.

Staring at you.

His eyes were low, his shirt was torn, revealing his pecs and the start of his abdomen. He was panting with his (surprisingly still) neat hair and an almost psychotic expression.

“oh no…” He starts with a laugh, still breathing heavily.

“what did you do..?” You cover your mouth with your hand.

“it’s what you did. you got me all riled up.”

He looks down for a brief moment and you swear you hear a zip. He holds his tie and the end of his tattered shirt in his mouth and looks up at you with knitted eyebrows.

His breath fogging up the window as he asks you. Looking like a poor starving puppy. “will you let me in now…? I need your help…” He slightly groaned.

“…what. the. fuck.”

[inkskinned]

in the time loop the only way out is to leave her there but you don't ever leave her there, never in the roughly one thousand years you have been in the same day. it is probably like "50 first dates" but you haven't stooped so low as to watch "50 first dates" yet. (but who is to say what another thousand years of the same media will bring to you, maybe you will develop a new taste).

you spent about 200 of these years sulking in a bathtub or on the couch or staring at the seaside. 300 of them have been spent slowly mapping the geographical distance you can actually get before the time loop restarts. you have a list of favorite places: one library in Western Massachusetts called "The Bookmill", which has weird hours and has never raised an eyebrow to you arriving out-of-breath and panting, asking to see a specific book on a specific shelf. There is one beach without a name in North Carolina; it is an accident of geography and ownership title disputes - and it is pristine, untouched, warm and cozy. you've taken her on a lot of picnics there. Acadia National Park. One specific birdhouse in the mountains.

you were stuck in the time loop with the money you entered it with: not enough to rent a private jet. you've robbed a bank a few times, you don't like the way it ends. maybe next century you'll get the hang of it. you don't like the look on her face when you say hang on i have to stop at the bank.

you just have to leave her, and you can go back to being a person again. you took 5 years just catching a flight and sitting in the Grand Canyon. if there's one thing you regret more than anything, it's that you hadn't gotten your passport renewed before this fucking time loop. maybe you should spend some time learning forgery - but also, like, you look like an english teacher. nobody is going to be cool about you asking to see their paper printing machines.

the world is very big. that is one of the things groundhog day gets wrong. there are no consequences, so you have literally all the time (or none of the time?) in the world. in groundhog day, he does a lot of very cool things, but in reality - your muscle memory never gets better. you can't necessarily learn how to play piano or sculpt ice, because your hands never remember the practice. but hey - maybe you'll try violin next. drums. synth.

you can open any door and walk into any conversation. money isn't really an object. you can try every meal off every menu, forever. take her on helicopter tours and into every museum and on every event that is happening right-now at-this-moment. parades and funerals and calligraphy classes.

but you are somewhat trapped by the limitations of your body. if you were reading a book, you still need to get up and go back to the library and find that book again when the day resets. (thank god for the internet). it still takes like 2 hours to board a plane, and then takeoff and landing and traffic. you've gotten off to run around on the freeway. one of the little thankful things: since your brain isn't actually developing (it's a muscle too), the days thankfully don't feel shorter to you. that would be agony.

all you have to do to leave the timeloop is let that man get away with it. that's all. in every version of yourself - forever - you have stopped him.

the problem is that this experience has convinced you of the existence of the human soul. after all, how else are you forming memories? your very cells reset. information has to be transferred somehow. and if timeloops are real, you can convince yourself other magic exists. so you have two choices here: this hell, or the next. there might be a millennia where you have been worn down to the point you can accept fate's decision. this is just not one of them. ironically - she is the one thing you have left.

and besides! if you can't always find something new in your partner, aren't you failing them? there is something new about her, every day with the same morning. every brutal day with the same orange sunset.

after all, you wanted to live with her in heaven, in eternity, and, well - isn't this second-best.

[gangplanksorenji]

An Ethical Consideration.

Pairing: IVE’s Yujin x Male Reader

Word Count: 9,124

A/N: The last fic of 2024. Been wanting to write some office-related stuff right now and glad I had the time to do so. Hope y'all like this quick piece of mine and cheers onto the next year ahead! <33

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The weight on her shoulders is the sum of her choices, and it bears the burden of being intact and to be precise eloquently. She’s often mistaken as a model due to her undeniably stunning pulchritude from head to toe as well as her clever mind that's just the cherry on top, and you can’t deny that, but the thing is, she’s a power lesser than you since you’re the more omnipotent one.

Your ego refuses to let her crumble down your defenses whenever you fall for her natural charms and whatnot, yet again, you can’t deny that. Mainly, it doesn’t help with the nature you have with her, always used to assert dominance.

Despite all of these egotistic approaches and hypocritical advances, you still treat her as a human because you’re not that cruel of a person, and even so, letting her be the first one to know what you have in plan for today.

“Schedules, again, Yujin.”

“All over? Today? To—”

“Yes.” You look at her, fixing your necktie with a stern stare that possibly intimidates her. “And yes.”

Standing a little awkwardly beside you, Yujin mutters each of your endeavors, an occupation that seems to strangle the concept of time.

“At 1 P.M., you’ll have a meeting with Mr. Kim and his colleagues, and that will take an hour and a half, presumably. Then, at 3 P.M., you’ll be in a—”

“Wait, wait, Yujin.” She gulps nervously with your words, possibly a little nuanced from what’s her usual demeanor until you chuckled a laugh.

“You are really something else, Yujin.”

She composes herself with her eye contact with yours, and you replied with a mutual action as your reassuring tone possibly relieves her. “W-What do you mean, sir?”

“Come on, I’m just playing with you—you don’t need to repeat it all but you’re just…” You look at her, from her doe eyes to her black heels, and then paint that smile you know that she always loves to see. “A different breed, I guess.”

Yujin smiles, knowing this is all a test and completely reassured. She continues assessing the paperwork lying on the desk and you watch her amusedly, clearly admiring her determination and this little interaction etches a note down your brain.

These are one of her struggles being your secretary, and it’s often making her question her every move nowadays since your mood is often played inside a Russian roulette. Yet on your side, it’s clear that you like to see the subtle anxiety in her eyes and your little, silly fantasies that possibly annoys her.

“Also, one thing, Yujin.” She looks at you, eyes full of anticipation.

“Yes, sir?”

“You can drop the paperworks.” You gesture it with your hands, a smile vibrant towards her even though it’s evidently simple, and she can’t help but feel relieved with your words. “Treat yourself a little, alright?” 

A simple token of gratitude is what made her smile that gleefully. At long last, she won’t be worrying most times, beating herself into that stress that’s always inevitable whenever she’s in your vicinity but it doesn't eliminate the fact that she’s still incredibly doubtful.

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“I mean it, Yujin.” You draw yourself closer but not too much, then stare at those brown orbs of hers to make her feel the sincerity of your words. “Don’t worry for me, for now. Make yourself comfortable, okay?”

She nods and is clearly being reassured with your words. She thanks you for the little token of gratitude, bows at you and walks swiftly immediately, not before stopping on her tracks with her name coming out of your lips, her eyes intrigued. “By the way, come to my office later at 5 P.M., I’ll show you something and don’t worry, you won’t be in any trouble.”

Well, that doesn’t help her at all but your reassuring tone was the indicator, to say the least.

---

You’re just hoping she gets to use her time in the best ways possible, for every second should be worth her time, and you’re just waiting patiently for her and what’s bound to possibly happen.

Frequently checking your watch, you patiently wait for her as the rook takes your queen, near with your king and that’s another checkmate. You’re killing time playing chess online, and knowing you’ll still have some time to spare allows you to decide on this.

“Wow, he’s good.” You murmured as your focus is entirely invested onto what could be your next move as a knock on the door could be audibly heard.

“Come on in.” It’s enough to hear it, and there the figure goes into the room. There’s a high chance that Yujin’s the one that’s going to knock on the door at this given time, three minutes after the clock strikes five and damn right it is.

“Oh sir, I’m incredibly sorry—”

You snap and she shuts herself, eyes wide and a gulp evident. “Don’t apologize, Yujin—take a seat instead.”

Once she hurried to take a seat, you fixed your collar, and composed yourself to possibly intimidate her. Here it starts, and your choice of words reflects the outcomes that may happen.

“You really do surprise me sometimes, Yujin.” Your voice is so close to being unreadable that even Yujin takes a hard time to decipher it. She’s matching your disposition, and clearly anticipating more. “You’re still into those things that we used to do?”

Fuck. Something clicked in her, and she instantly knew the sole reason for her appearance here.

She still denies it, knowing there’s no evidence of the assumption but you know she’s back to her clandestine roots. “S-sir, I can assure you that I’m over whatever you’re possibly thinking.”

“Oh please, Yujin, stop with the lies—”

Knowing how retaliation with words and the defensive approach could absolutely result in anything going against her way, she would opt for an option that could possibly bear the best of outcomes. “Then what is it, sir? What’s this assumption all about?”

She’s slowly raising her tone, failing to cover up her permeating defensiveness as you gestured to calm her down, and let yourself be heard as she’s in clear of any trouble. 

“Yujin, me personally—I’m just saying that I was genuinely baffled that you’re still into that.” Your words work like a charm, getting more loosened up as the soothing atmosphere really eliminates the fact that about denial and lies. “If it’s the others, you could’ve landed onto something hard on the surface but not for me.”

Her gaze fixated towards you with your last words, a smirl curling up your lips as you can see the comfort within her. Yet, there’s still a question lingering in her mind that she can’t contain any longer. 

She gave up knowing it’s not worth it to put a nail on a coffin, yet rather, open it up. “How’d you know, sir?”

She's still anxious and it’s completely normal even with the possibly platonic relationship you’ve built with her because at the end of the day, you’re the one in control, a higher hierarchy. “Well, it’s quite simple, actually?”

There’s probably glint in her eyes, running up the possible reasons of a secret unshackled as her career is probably flashing before her eyes, knowing how your sugar coating is absolutely deceiving at most times. “How s-simple, sir?”

She’s stuttering but that didn’t stop you, and it’s cruel to know how bittersweet these events can get but you need to address it, and add a possible way to bring something back to life.

You push the seat away from you as you stand up, now going towards her and breaking that suspense that’s lingering right from the start when she steps foot onto your office. “Wonyoung reported me about your naughty desires when all eyes aren’t watching you, clearly moaning my name and still fantasizing about me, hm?”

Oh, the sabotage. You know how it can possibly hurt her to hear those words come out of your mouth, but that’s the truth and right when Yujin is coming to defend her actions, you pull up a trick on your sleeve that could easily dismantle her attempts to dismiss the truth.

The recording plays, loud and clear, her voice calling you lustfully and god, it’s breaking her, piece by piece.

“Wha—”

“It’s hard, Yujin—I know, but at least keep it within yourself probably, you know?” Now, you’re just hitting her critically, opposing the reassurance you enlightened her with earlier. She’s looking down, defeated and apologetic and you’re sympathetic with her vulnerable state. “Oh please, look at me, Yujin.”

You inch closer towards her, tilt her chin up, looking at you endearingly with a plea loud in each second she stares at you, as you continue. “Enjoy your break, Yujin. We’ll talk later for more. I’m clearly disappointed.”

You give her way towards the door as she stands up quickly, on the verge of tears, sniffling with a loud thud of steps. As she’s about to reach for the door handle, your voice interrupts her, feeling like a deja vu from earlier. “Clearly disappointed to know I wasn’t there to aid you.”

Those words struck hee like lightning, piercing through her like a sword as it hit too well, letting her feel rivaled and frozen. You walk towards her, a smile curling up your lips as she turns around with a quizzical expression. “What do you mean, sir?”

“You know what that means, Yujin.” Your hands are quick to pull her dangerously close toward you, making her yelp with your actions and she’s clearly processing what’s currently happening yet jovial knowing this could end up something elevated that what she was expecting.

You’re now facing her, nose a mere inch away as you whisper. “Now let me show you what you really need.”

God, it’s a sight to behold. You immediately pull her and latch your lips with hers, exchanging torrid pecks that define the hunger and deprivation between the both of you.

You’ve been in your cage for so long and for the longest time possible, you missed these moments with Yujin and you can’t let that opportunity slide. You tug onto the hem of her blazer as you admire her outfit, and teased with how it’s clearly against the dress code. “Feeling really stylish, as always.”

“Hope you liked it, sir.”

“I really do, Yujin.” Then, you continued with the sloppy exchanges, clearly savoring each second you latch onto hers as her plum lipstick accentuates her given scrumptious taste, letting you yearn for more and she reciprocates so swiftly.

It was a quick descent and possibly all according to plan, but you can’t deny the fact that a possible friendship can be ruined between such close friends, but for now, all these things are set aside as your focus is entirely averted towards Yujin.

One, two—fuck, she’s a great kisser.

And so are you, possibly.

---

These events really took a wild turn, and not even two minutes of such a lustful exchange, comes the comfortability of both parties, even descending down to the madness of lust, and the first victim that falls onto that is Yujin, clearly vocal about how she missed getting that taste of your succulent shaft.

“You really want to suck my cock, huh?” She can’t help herself with the thoughts in her, absolutely telling her to give in to her carnal desires and she does so.

Yujin just falls onto her knees, a loud thud audible as she can’t help herself but just be drunk with the thought of slobbering all over your length. “Please, sir—I need your cock—to taste it.”

“Wrong name, Yujin.” You tug her ponytail, earning a yelp from her as bites her lips, subtly liking the way you’re rough on her.

“Sorry, daddy—I just can’t help it…” And so, you gave her mercy, even with just the precious seconds left to spare.

You smirk, looking down and eventually seeing the lust behind those adorable, doe-like eyes that resembles how she’s undeniably ruinable whenever she pulls up this look.

“Oh, Yujin…” You lift her head up with a finger on her chin, chuckling as your sinister plans are starting to choreograph the possible actions you can do to ruin your secretary on your professional grounds as this can be considered somewhat ethical at your own words. “I’m going to make you choke all over my dick so bad that the only thing you’ll remember on the whole day we’re here is the taste of it, and mark my fucking words.”

Fuck. Yujin mutters and gulps, because your tone permeates sincerity and there’s no way on god’s green earth you’ll never fulfill those promises, not when Yujin is kneeling down so submissive and entirely begging to be sullied.

“That’s what I want to hear, daddy.”

The falling consonants escaping her lips ignites something within you, and you’re throbbing just hearing her voice being sultry, aching to be freed. You are unable to take it anymore, and Yujin knows how much you need to be relieved even if it gets so risky. “Do the honors, my Yujin, now.”

You’re really demanding, and she fulfills it within a heartbeat.

Yujin unbuckles and frees every bit of clothing that deprives her with the view of insatiability, hungry and yearning to get herself a hold of her desired prize. She’s swift and deft with it, hands skating through the confines like it’s nothing and that’s what you like about her—the lingering confidence that no one else can match, and she’s bold and audacious with a care towards you only. As selfish as that sounds, why would it matter when it’s Ahn Yujin that’s in front of you and possibly, worshiping you.

The last bit of defense, your boxers, and it’s going to be deemed useless as her hands tug on it and give you that submissive look. “Promise me that you’ll be rough for me, daddy.”

There are two reasons why is this extremely rhetorical: first, with a girl oozing with hotness and a body built to be ruined, how can you not think of something so ludicrous and utterly aiming to ruin her living life out of her; and second, preferably last, she always wants to be pounded and controlled to oblivion, putting in her place, just like the usual pursuits that sparks the risk.

“Always, Yujin—now get that lips on my cock now—want to feel it.” Again, it’s commanding and she likes it a lot.

The encapsulation of her lips around your purplish crown meets the inevitability of moans coming from your lips, her hot, wet flesh being too euphoric to handle. You can bear with the gratification, of course, but the way that she’s applying the pressure whenever her cheeks hollow and the plumpness her lips provide would like to have a word. It feels like your cock is made for her to suck, and she proves it with every second she spends her precious time with, a slobbering mess all over your length. She was quick to be messy, spit already seeping out of her mouth as she held your thighs for a support with her rapidly increasing pace. 

“Jesus, Yujin—this hungry for my dick? Really this bad—fuck!” The question was quick for her to be registered yet she chooses to ignore it, occupied with the devotion of giving the utmost pleasure and fulfilling her needs of tasting you.

“I asked you a question, didn’t I?” You tugged her hair, a statement to consider as she pulls away from your saliva-sheathed shaft and catches her breath.

“Yes, daddy—I want y—mmh!” All you need to hear is a single yes to conclude the satisfaction within you and the want in her. She’s quickly muted with your sudden impalement, making her hands grab onto your thighs as she eagerly bobbed her head to prove that she can match your roughness. You grit your teeth, looking down at the sight of a lifetime, groaning with Yujin’s actions as her eyes gaze at yours through the reflection of her glasses, scanning your expressions to tell if you’re loving this or not.

Why would that be a question within her when you’re already moaning with her suction wringing the best bits of pleasure possible? Guess people have their own ways of assurance and Yujin’s ways are something you’d always commend—she always loves to ensure things even if it’s already confirmed to be certain.

When your tip hits the back of her throat, nose flushed onto your lower abdomen and her glasses slightly pressed, that’s when you uttered the hottest moans imaginable, feeling her oral assaults are a battery to invigorated the lust within you.

“God—fuck—how are you always feeling so good, Yujin?” You hands caress her ponytail as she ensues her pace, rightfully sullied then pulling out to state the rhetorical within you.

“Maybe because I’m a sucker for daddy’s cock, that’s why.” The choices of words were simple, yet hot and it’s the way that she delivers it too. Yujin flashed a smile before indulging onto your length again, stroking your base as her hunger speaks loud and clear, actions rapid and pleasurable.

The scene alone inside your office is something like in the pornogrpahic videos that tells the tale of fiction and what’s on the camera yet this is real, as the insatiability between the both of you drew towards this madness. Knowing that you keep your promises and wanting to make things elevated, you flashed a sinister smile before tapping Yujin’s cheeks poking with your length, and then she pulled out yet again, whimpering with the sudden depravity.

“What now, daddy?”

“I’m going to make a mess outta you, starting with this tight throat.” Your words are laced with lust and the venom that stings her to bite onto your commands, and eagerly anticipates what you’ll do next. You take a hold of your wet length and direct it inside her tightness yet again, groaning with how warm and pleasurable it is before grabbing her head with both hands and thrusting with an already moderate pace. 

She wants it rough, right? Then you’ll give it to her, even if it takes to break you as long as you get to ruin her innocence and that existing class within her.

She gags when it hits too deep, yet she doesn't stop you, taming her reflex as you invite you with more, digging her hands onto your hips and urging to take what her limits can. She’s fighting you, closing her shut and tight as she takes you was the notion that she’s already reaching her limitations, yet this is not what you trained her for and she knows it.

Without further to do, you let yourself be the one to expand her horizons of the inevitable domination all over her, and this time, you’ll be berserk.

“Open your fucking mouth, Yujin.” You let her jaw be slacked, up for the taking as you relentlessly pound her tight throat, fulfilling your needs and deeply disheveling and leaving her sullied once she leaves the office doors. You pinch her nose, playing with the risky game between asphyxiation and god, she’s struggling and constantly gagging onto your rapid length.

“You always love my cock balls deep into your slutty throat, don’t you?” The mocking gets into her, nodding frantically as your words spill the truth, nothing even close on being a lie.

Yujin’s cheeks flushed red, struggling for oxygen as you let go, letting her breathe through her nose and with a pocket of relief, she took your whole cock with an invigorated stance, standing her ground and not letting herself break. You tug onto her ponytail, surprisingly still bonded even with your relentless pace and ruthless actions and it’s just a great element for leverage, elevating the ruined look she emanates all for your eyes to see, and the glasses she’s constantly wearing is just the cherry on top. She digs her fingers onto your thighs, spit seeping out of the crevices of her mouth and your cock, coating the vicinity of skin around your length.

She wanted this anyway, and you’re just warming everything up.

Her ruined countenance is a sight to be etched within your deepest lobes in your brain, for it’s something stupendous and incredibly monumental. She ruins her own clothing and gags repeatedly, yet it doesn’t matter because as long as you’re molding her throat with the shape of your cock, then you’d say you’re in a triumphant run of domination over Yujin. “Take it all for me, Yujin—god, t-this fucking throat is way too good.”

You can vouch and it’s incredibly factual. You’d want to just warm up your shaft for the magnitudinal display of pleasure that’ll happen later (and it’s going up her tight cunt) yet her throat and her lips would like to speak up, or maybe even adding up to the mess you’re making right now.

Pick a side, and you can’t, but you have to decide yet the pleasure coursing down within you is putting you in a position of indecisiveness.

You continue the ruthless assault against her mouth, chanting her name while you do what you’re best at and your sincere praises towards her is just the cherry on top. Usually, she would be writhing her arms with subsequent gags resonating all over the room but it's surprisingly and genuinely impressive how she takes you better now, yet not the perfected craft you sought her to be and you wouldn’t complain. 

There’s also an additional element of lust that elevates the oral experience, and you cared to address that because of how hot it actually makes her, even more than what you expected.

“Not going to take those off, huh, Yujin?” You cool down your thrusts and let Yujin have the capability to control her pursuits, impaling her with more of what you can offer she pulls out to answer you, catching her breath and painting such a vibrant smile that contradicts the sexual tension lingering in the air.

Her mouth is utterly messy, saliva drips down to her chin as her insatiability towards you didn’t even bother the tiniest bit of modesty to even clean up. “I’d like to see how much you’ll cum knowing this does turn you on more.”

She knows. She fucking knows you. The way she said it so confidently with the smirk painted on her face says a lot, knowing that she’s just inflicting on the wounds of lust within you. She cracks the code open with your subtle kinks that’s profoundly known by her and immediately, she would live up to those fantasies of yours—it’s actually baffling how she knew your little fetishes that no one else can, and she’s absolutely clever reading you like a book.

“You know that I’ll probably destroy these glasses, Yujin.” The warning is audible, falling onto her ears as she continuously teases your tip with her tongue, before setting your insatiability aside and muttering up a reply.

“You probably can consider that you’ll fuck my mouth like it’s my cunt.” She’s not wrong, though, and certainly, that’s bound to happen. “And just so I know, you’re going to give me another set once these are broken because I’m something special, am I?”

It’s a blessing and a curse whenever she gets too cocky—her permeating confidence knowing her words exhibits the truth and it won’t help for your supposed reasonings, yet sometimes, her limits wouldn’t help her much, not when you still have the authority to be in control with a flick of a switch.

“Damn right it is, Yujin… You gave up and relinquished the truth, but you can’t wait up any longer for what’s the reason behind this sinful mess. “Now shut up and let me fuck your mouth.”

“Oh pl–mmh!” It was a mistake once she parted her lips enough to impale her with your cock, yet it’s all bound to happen and embraces every thrust your hips muster. 

The opportunity is taken, instantly ravaging her mouth like it’s your last, tugging on her ponytail that’s holding on thanks with your vice grip onto it. She’s tearing up as you ensued and put her in her place, managing eye contact towards you with a silent plea laced behind those glinting orbs of her for more. She’s gripping your thighs, a leverage that’s still not enough for her to handle your roughness and god, her hands digging you for more tells exactly how she doesn’t want the pace to dissipate.

She’s crazy for this, and you’ll match that freak of hers.

It hits balls deep every time, her glasses almost slipping out and being crushed with your own weight of force being distributed to this sinful endeavor. She grasps your thighs like she’s bound to break, and you’re going to achieve that yet she’s robust and able to take you for she is capable of your pace even with the evident gags and subsequent grips that could probably bruise your skin. 

Your pace never fails to bring her to the weakest, tears flowing down her cheeks as she indulges under your control and you’ll never falter, not when you had enough. The way her throat tightens up once you push your length deeper always sends yourself closer to the promising heights of euphoria and god, she’s just taking everything your hips oscillates. She’s just getting messier with every second that counts, yet she perseveres to prove her worth despite the apparent struggles.

And she delivers, every inch, every thrust, and every goddamn gag—

You pull out and she’s gasping for oxygen, her reddened face tells the story of your roughness and she just flashed a grin, her satisfaction fulfilled choking on a cock like yours.

“God, you’re so fucking messy, Yujin.” Your swears ignites something in her and it’s such a gem to hear profanities coming out of your mouth, because she knows she’s making you crazy and this was just the start of an exhilarating show. You wipe the saliva that escapes out of her mouth and seductively play with those lips of hers, and she knows what’s the reply of such display of lust.

She didn’t waste her breath to mutter a word, but rather, invest in constant hums as she sucks onto your fingers like a lollipop, enveloping that soft flesh and tasting like the sun won’t come up tomorrow. The voracious assault onto your fingers concludes her insatiability towards you, and she’s trying her best to live up to her desires and selfish pleasures.

As she’s incredibly readable, you could only imagine how soaked her cunt is with all of the lingering intimacy.

“God, please—more, daddy—please let me—”

“No.” You caress her cheeks and look at those eyes full of that lustful glint, preparing for what you could possibly do with her. Help her stand up and pin your arms so her back is pressed against the wall, your stare continues to pique her as it lures her in like a trap. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Yujin. Since you took me so well, I might have to consider something to aid your wrongdoings.”

A cunning smile paints you, as her eyebrows furrow in anticipation as her lust puppets her to desperation. “A-And what is that, daddy? Please, I’ll do everything even if it means more than what you can expect of me.”

“Expect? Hah.” A chuckle escapes your lips, and that puzzles Yujin. She’s laughable at that moment given how she’s mostly the epitome of fulfillment, the clear meeting of expectations. “Gladly enough, everything that I could think of links every missing piece so perfectly.”

That’s the beauty of An Yujin—clearly innocent yet determined for every obstacle that gets in her way, even if it means something unethical. But here’s the thing, you orchestrate what’s the order in this room and have the authority to bend what’s considered to be rightfully taken.

In this case, it’s something way too obvious.

“The question is: where do you want it, Yujin?” 

Once those words were said, her eyes immediately averted to your throbbing cock, rock-hard just for her as her hand seizes the opportunity yet you stop her. “Answer me, Yujin.”

“Inside me—just as long as I can feel it, feel you, daddy.” Now, you’ve just broken her and it’s all with a single kryptonite that she always loves to play with and it never fails her to be driven towards insanity.

“Oh, you really want it, huh?” The nod is evident and desperate, and you’re just igniting the fire to tease her further. “Bend over for me, on the desk.”

“But the documents—” Maybe the addressing of concerns should take place in a completely separate hour or day as you don't care if they’ll get all tangled in a huge mess because getting Yujin railed from behind will be your utmost priority. 

“I don’t give a shit, Yujin—we can rearrange them some time.”

“But daddy, it’ll be a—ow!” You’re fed up with her considerate actions because of your selfishness too, a grab on her wrists and a spank is enough to enlighten a statement within her.

Your eyes penetrate daggers through her, and it’s turning her on even more. “I really hate repeating myself, Yujin.”

You really do, and with the grip immediately loosening, she obliges and gets rid of such paperwork and bends over your main desk without any care but you.

“Better. Fucking better.” 

You glance over the helpless, submissive stance Yujin is on, and you’re just running on the possible permutation you can possibly do with her. She holds onto each side of the desk while looking over her shoulder, eagerly anticipating what you have in store with you and you definitely have an abundance of tricks up your sleeves.

“Don’t look back and put your hands behind you, Yujin.” She’s quick and obedient, gladly compliant because this would definitely turn around worse for her if she wasn’t being one. You are quick to grab your belt and she knows what’s possibly going to happen, erratic breaths and chuckles coming out of her mouth are the signs of her building satisfaction.

“God, I always wanted to experience this while you ravage me senseless, daddy.”

“Great thing this is your lucky day.” You wrap your leather belt around her wrists and hold them in place, making sure that Yujin is as helpless as possible before the sinful act commences.

“Too tight?”

“Not really, it’s just right.” She yelps and cries because of a harsh spank as its hypnotic ripple earns that groan from her, deriving pleasure out of your enervating ruthless approach towards her ass. You raise the hem of her skirt up to her waist, and so are those grey-colored shorts just a little to get a delectable view of a backside that could be worth millions, and luckily enough, you’ll be the only to see the wonder of such treasure. 

Your hands roam around her arched butt and those heaven-sent thighs, feeling the smooth, porcelain skin in every inch that just feeds to the hunger you’re having towards her but you have your own composure, a word of modesty and patience that Yujin isn’t bothering to have at these desperate moments. “You know this dress code isn’t really allowed, hm?”

“How so? No one has ever called me out wearing short skirts like these—oh god, right there…” She’s delving nearer onto her breaking point, moaning with your repeated assault towards her supposedly drenched lips through the frustrating fabric, teasing and building up her lust while she fights to be as eloquent as possible. “You n-never said a warning, daddy, let alone implement a rule or a ch—ow! Ohh, fuck!”

“All I’m saying is that you’re being such a slut for wearing one, just to summarize it for you, Yujin.” Your words sting as much as the heavy hits of your palm, marking a familiar rosy hue onto her ass that earns that triumphant smirk on your face.

“But I know you like it, by a lot.”

“Never said I didn’t.” You’re growing impatient because of the possible things that’s running around your mind, and it’s all about how you can totally sully her.

Your eyes darts onto her perfect skin, before tugging onto her shorts which is surprisingly easy to undress, coming off and onto her ankles just with a few seconds (Yujin standing up quickly also helps) and then the last bit of defense against the inevitability—those ruined, black silk thong that’s drenched with juices. Also, those come off and down on her ankles and all of those kicked to god knows where as she can’t help but moan with the sensitivity she’s currently feeling, and she likes being defenseless and being totally handled by you.

She never looked great being incredibly submissive and she’s perfectly built to be like this.

Amongst all of the foreseeable futures that could happen, one by one they are eliminated, until only three had made it to the final cut as these are the things that can go so right for the both of you: you could curse her satisfaction with your fingers teasing her tight cunt, on the edge of breaking apart and make her cum effortlessly; could invest onto some returned favor, your lips eating those succulent holes of hers as she writhes with the wetness you bring; and lastly (being the most cruel and pleasurable act you can possibly do), a finger, knuckle deep into her asshole and teasing her tightness with your own length.

Yet, with all of the articulative thinking, you can’t help but let your patience run thin and do what you promised earlier on—to let her see stars, ruin her entirely.

You nudge your cock onto her waiting heat, and immediately, you halt the agonizing reprieve as it is sheathed inside without a warning, knowing she can take it all despite her helpless state. At this rate, Yujin would be gripping both ends of the desk yet with the belt around her wrists and your hand holding her in place, she could just writhe and moan your name out uncontrollably as she gives everything in, and you control her.

Thanks to her slick juices, it wasn’t hard to accommodate yourself onto a moderate thrust that she grew accustomed to once you keep assuring and complimenting her, even if it comes out as a profanity.

“Not bad for a slut like you, Yujin—god, do you like this, hm?” You’re refraining to voice out how great she fucking feels around your cock, and let your mind savor the sight of her powerless figure dependent for your handling. 

“Yes, y-yes—oh fuck, yes, daddy—it’s so good, so good!” Her strained voice, stuttering and alluring is what invites you for a harsher pace. The both of you are mutually gratified with each other’s actions, and you can’t help but groan her name too in every thrust you do, now filling her up.to the hilt and withdrawing with just your tip inside. It is hard yet moderately paced, just how you like it for now, and knowing how this possibly defeats what Yujin likes, you don’t want her to wail and break apart within your own eyes.

Wait, she is calling you and pleading with you—that’s the sign, she wants more.

“Harder, daddy—please.” Of course you’ll fulfill that as soon as possible. You pull the belt towards you, letting her hands meet your abdomen and pound her tight cunt with a power greater than before. Every clash of your hips to her butt resonates this sound that’s the epitome of candy in your ears, and it’s just going to get better, knowing that with the profound kisses you do on her nape makes her clench even harder and wringing out the best of all pleasures.

She cries and you hum onto her skin, continuously worshipping her as her moans with your repeated actions set the fire in you, as well as her constant compliments that you know would be inevitable.

“You lips—g-god, you kiss me so good, daddy—oh shit…”

Your lips are dangerously close to her ears now, as you whisper, “And you take me so well—this tight cunt is really for my cock.”

Well, it probably is, considering how every thrust molds to the shape of your shaft lives up to your words. She’s incredibly tight and slick, even with the constant ravaging and it’s just getting way better knowing that she’s not showing any signs for you to slow down nor stop, letting you go berserk on living up to both your likings. It’s possibly painful to know that your eyes can’t get that hypnotic sight of her thighs rippling and as much as you like kissing her backside, you can’t afford to lose an opportunity with an angelic view.

“Grab the desk, Yujin. I’m gonna fuck you harder now.” Now loosening the grip of the belt around her wrists, she immediately leveraged with a painful grip onto each end of the desk as you didn’t slow down and continued your igniting fervor. She’s trembling once she grabbed onto both ends, thighs shaking due to your actions as her mouth spills honey-filled moans with the pleasure spiking up on her spine, and through her veins. 

Now, you have the everlasting sight to behold—the recoil of her skin with your thrusts is a vision to be etched within the deepest parts of your brain, and you’d live every moment seeing her like this. You painfully grip her hips, pounding her harshly to the point that the desk is even responding to your ruthlessness, but you don't care, not when she’s still coherent, able to walk and most of all, not cumming all over you.

These are just the multiple goals you'd eventually achieve, and it’s getting pretty near considering how her lips pulsate and drenches with copious amounts. She’s now creating a miniscule puddle onto the floor and the small rivulets on her thighs full of her nectar, and you’d eventually double that given how hard you’re fucking her and god, she’s crying and far from the An Yujin everybody knows.

“God, fuck—da-ddy, p-please—let me cum—let me cum, I’m s-so fucking close—oh god, oh god, p-please!” It continues like this, a jumble of words due to the skyrocketed pleasure she’s experienced and you know she’s dangerously close, and you’re just there to pull the trigger sooner.

She lets out a primal cry, and you seal her fate.

“Cum for me, Yujin.” Simple words yet enough to break a woman like her.

She’s practically gushing onto your fingers as you rub them out to reach her climax and she does so, spilling the borderline screams of pleasure that is caused by you, and she’s basically elevated way past her euphoric trance. 

Her knees tremble due to her orgasm, and whisper onto her ear while still pounding her through it since she wanted this in the first place. “You know, Yujin—I would have just fucked your tight ass if we have some lube, want to see your cunt gushing out while I ravage your tight hole.”

You’re not yet finished and your words immediately made her clenched so tightly that it made you groan in the middle of your sentences, but that doesn’t stop you from enlightening her with your fantasies. “God—both of your holes are fucking tight—guess I’d just make this pussy cum all over again while you could only imagine how my cock would slide so good inside you, hm?”

Your words do make her squirm uncontrollably, a key to the door of madness as you didn’t waste time increasing the pace and getting back to the roots of how this goes. Knowing how much you want her to reach another inevitable high, you opted for a leverage on her end, offering your fingers for her to such as she eagerly does so, tasting you and humming in need as every second passes by. You make her choke with your own digits, and she slurps each time she does so, yearning to impress you and to voice out how much she loves these miniscule actions to fight against the pleasure.

“P-Please, daddy…” She cries for you, letting her catch her breath as your thrusts are constant, deep, and unforgiving.

“Say i-it, Yujin—please for what?” You need that answer escaping those sinful lips of hers, you need it desperately, even if her voice is broken for all of the vocals she bestowed.

“Fuck—f-fuck me, daddy, please!” 

It’s the constant chant of the same sets of phrases and words and you can’t blame her, not when you’re absolutely fucking her like you do mean it. She can’t think straight, possibly seeing stars at this moment as her nectar spills into rivulets yet again, the mess currently spoiling the marble floor that didn’t concern you.

“My office is gonna smell like sex thanks to you, Yujin.” You let out that primal call, a satisfied one as her clenches aids more with the pleasure you’re currently experiencing. “And I’m—I’m fucking close, Yujin.”

The stream of constant moans ends up on a halt, as Yujin still has the coherence to think and break the loop of words, pleading as she tightens her grip on the desk. “On my face, please, daddy—you can’t cum inside me yet, not here!”

Oh, she now has this courage to utter words against your possible wants, and honestly, that’s commendable yet you didn’t like it and not when you’re in the peak of the hierarchy, in the absolute authority of things.

“And why not? Also, girls like you deserve a load inside their tight cunts, no matter what the circumstance.” No one could probably argue against you, not when her walls clench for you to fill her up, even though it’s against her wants yet again, you are the dominant one, the power to control and bend towards your will.

You didn’t utter a word and ramped up the pace again, and this time, you’ll do everything to feel every ounce of pleasure as much as possible. Yujin’s face contorts into that familiar countenance of being cock-drunken, yet you break that trance with a hand on her chin, making her face towards you and then again, you meet those luscious lips of hers that’s entirely insatiable.

You pull her close and continue to pound her tightness, humming on your reciprocation and her lips quivering in pleasure, chasing that high of yours that’s bound to spill into the depth of her tight walls. She tastes so great you can’t pull away just yet, closing your eyes and feeling how soft her lips are and when you do, you bring the final onslaught of thrust that’s possibly going to break her in half, moaning on how good you’re making her feel.

“Fuck—f-fuck, daddy—I’m gonna cum too—so close!” At long last, she’s a hair’s width onto her own high and being in the same boat as yours, and this couldn’t be any better.

“Fucking cumming again? Hah, then we’ll cum together then—gonna fill this pussy up so good, Yujin.” It’s surprising how coherent you are even though you’re as stimulated as Yujin but it doesn’t matter, not when your primal instincts are the ones that powers you to achieve that euphoria.

You dug your hand onto her hips, spreading her legs more to go deeper and god, you can’t possibly survive another set of thrusts on the count of five.

That familiar tingle firing you up was the call, and you impaled yourself deep into her snug walls, filling her with every spurt your slit can possibly deposit. She’s wailing, calling you and yearning for more as her brain can’t possibly fathom the utmost pleasure she’s experiencing and you’re just giving it all, giving what she desires right from the start.

She’s thanking you, a cry that could break you but in a different, unorthodox way that relies on the scope of lust. “Jesus—fuck, why are you always so goddamn tight, Yujin?”

It’s rhetorical and she knows it—she’s aware of what she can do to you, and even in a submissive frame, she can absolutely break you apart. You kept your length buried in her for a longer while, possibly extending the pleasure that’s beating your brain in a mush, and eventually, the inevitable could not be stopped. You pull out and let out exasperated breaths, admiring with the wonder of your roughness evident with your red handprints, and as the cherry on top, her cunt dripping with your anticipated load.

There’s still that gas left in the tank, a fuel burning and igniting for more and you can’t let it become idle.

“Thank—o-oh fuck—thank you for this, daddy…” Yujin’s chants are a constant ringing in your ear, her moans subsiding as she recovers from her own high, assessing how great you feel with your load deep inside her.

Your hubris never fails to fuel you up too, and you’re far from over.

“You remember me saying I’m going to fuck you rough, Yujin?” You’re demanding, incredibly primal and wanting more of what she can offer. She can sense it as she looks onto her shoulder only for you to guide her and flip her around, now facing you with your eyes evidently distracted with her leaking cunt. “And really mean it, because you're going to take more.”

Her eyes darted towards you, glowing, endeared, and laced with lust. She wanted this for weeks and now, she’ll get to feel your wrath once more, and this time, it would be way better than before since you’ll see how beautiful her face contorts whenever she succumbs to the pleasure, on even her moans to the very least.

It’s one of the robust parts of the pillars that builds up your concupiscence, and it’s the strongest amongst them all—her sultry tone says it all, and it’s just making you descend down to your own madness.

“Gonna breed me like the desperate girl I am, daddy?”

“Correction,” Your hands deftly find her waist, drawing her frame closer to you as she yelps with your sudden control, then smiles knowing she’s going to be put in her place. “A desperate slut.”

Yujin is still leaking, thighs stained in the right places with indistinguishable liquids caused by you and you’ll stand proud for the product you just made. Still with the skirt pulled up on her waist, you lifted her legs a little as she relaxes herself onto your desk—it’s pretty surprising how sturdy this is and probably, you’ll invest onto some greater furniture in the latter weeks, if ever—and teased your rock-hard shaft against those sullied, white-stained slit of hers, which earned another set of needy moans that’s clearly aphrodisiac in nature.

You’d never shut up how great she sounds, and you’re growing impatient by the second you tease her heat.

“Please, daddy—please put it in again…” Both of her arms extend down your shoulders, hands resting on your neck and caressing it, urging you to comply with her needs and she doesn’t need to plead more because you’re definitely in a losing battle of discipline.

Why would you even bother thinking of such a concept in this filthy endeavor? Yes, you won’t, and you’ll dismiss it.

It’s another sudden action, you buried deep, withdrew and slammed back in, repeating the harshness you bestowed upon her earlier but this time, you’re feeling everything and even better, see how pretty she looks when she’s blessed with the constant overwhelming pleasure. You grabbed her hips and impaled her deeper, your cum leaking repeatedly out of her tightness as it stained everywhere in its vicinity—you’d probably have this dilemma of cleaning your workspace once you’re done with her, but you wouldn’t care until she’s fucked senseless, her mind thinking of you and you only.

You’d intend on doing that, and with your stored-up strength, you’re able to lift her with your arms and pinned her onto the nearest wall where you’re in full pace on revving up your thrusts with abandon, letting out the most sinful moans of satisfaction Yujin can produce. You’re in the same boat as hers, utterly succumbing into the abyss of gratification and constantly grunting with how great she still feels, tight in the right places, possibly molding her walls onto the shape of yours. 

It’s genuinely hard to comprehend her unparalleled tightness despite the pounding she took earlier and that’s just elevating the pleasure you experience as always, dismissing that sensitivity that once took over your length. You hold her frame with your hands on her waist, her legs wrapping around yours as you achieved greater depths that resonated magnitudes of different cries of pleasure. You catch her lips again, holding her chin upright as the both of you exchange torrid kisses, hungry for each other and utterly leveraging the unstoppable pleasure each of you brings to the table.

It’s the sound that she makes while making up with you, and you’ll never get tired of it, not when she’s dancing her tongue against yours, and attempting to mutter words that fail to be audible with how much you’re investing on dancing with her. Her legs instinctively pull you closer, and can’t help but groan against her lips on how much she clenches between every thrust your hips muster. 

“Are you getting close again, Yujin?” Your breaths come right after, clearly anticipating on achieving her ultimate prize once again, letter her see stars let alone galaxies with how much exertion you bring onto pounding her. Her legs are falling limp, tired with the monstrosity you’re doing but neither of you will have any regrets, and the closest thing to have a thought like that is if someone sees you and there’s no world anyone would have an eye of a trusted, hierarchical man of the company ruining her secretary.

Oh, curse these ethical bullshit and your reputation, because you’ll fulfill your utter desires before you can call this a day.

“I can’t h-hold–oh fuck—so good! Can’t hold it anymore, daddy…” She’s just desperate for another release, and you’re inching closer towards your promised land. She’s bound to feel something so euphoric, and it’s all mutual, even up to the point where you fill her up to the brim. You’re gaining every ounce of strength to wrap herself around you  and a bright idea sparked within you despite all of the thoughts within you spiraled up, all tangled and in haywire.

Before the unexpected detour, she could just moan onto your neck, resting her head against your shoulder and chasing her high, messing up the floor and your thighs with her succulent nectar. Your workplace being stenched with the smell of sex will be the least of your concerns in this current affair, but rather the fact that you can’t see a pulchritude broken into something sullied, and your mind currently emptied, just with the thought of making herself her own canvas.

“What—what are you d-doing?” Yujin is limp once she stands on her feet, messed up thanks to you as her puzzled face is evidently confused with what you’re having it in your mind. Still recovering and gaining that semblance of urgency, she anticipates what you’ll utter and it wouldn’t be long.

“Remember what you said earlier about your favorite pair of yours?” Even with the stupor clearly shown, she’s still articulative and bright, grasping with what you’re trying to make her remember and just flashing that innocent grin with the thought of it.

“Oh god, yes.” She’s quick with it, instantly dropping down onto your knees, legs quivering as she looks up at you, her eyes glistening with what you’re going to shower her with. “Would like to see my favorite pair covered with your cum, daddy.”

God, she knows, she fucking knows.

You didn’t hold back, and she’s sticking her tongue out and closing her eyes, letting her imagination roll upon what could be the most erotic sight that could happen between the both of you. It’s turning you on even more, clearly focused on chasing your high with the velocity your wrists are doing and eventually, it wouldn’t be long enough for her to be deprived of it.

It’s a decent shower, not excessive but god, it’s just right. Her messy bangs got caught off on the process, a little stained and you did what you could to seal the promise, her nose, mouth, chin and most importantly, the scaffolding of her glasses, stained with that white liquid that’s drained out of you.

To be honest, you clearly forgot the existence of such an element, but glad you’re able to cover it and fulfill her needs.

“Fuck—god.” Yujin’s breaths are erratic, still kneeling down and scooping the remnants of your cum and tasting, undeniably satisfied with the outcome. “Considering the load in my pussy, you still came a lot.”

It’s still surprising how she sounds so confident saying such sinful words, but being still in the trance, you wouldn’t mind it so much. “Dropping the names, huh?”

“Oh, sorry—”

“Hey, hey, it’s totally fine, Yujin.” Still managing to display humor, she laughed it off in relief, dropping the act and exchanging exhausted breaths in every second that counts.

“Well, I guess we should clean up, sir.” You help her stand up, legs trembling as she laughs it out and reassures you that everything is going to be fine.

“Yeah, we should, I’ll call up my—”

“No sir—” Her hands stop you from grabbing your phone on the desk, unharmed, and you’re painting shock with her actions.

“Why?”

Yujin stares at you, removing the cum-stained glasses and onto the desk and you can clearly see what she’s made of, a monster in the making. “Just us, please, sir—at your place.”

That’s a bold move, but considering what happened, it wouldn’t be much of a deal as you drop the hierarchical advantage you possess. “There’s still another hole you haven’t stretched yet.”

The wink was the cherry on top and you swear to god, this girl will break you, possibly into millions of pieces more.

You need to fix yourselves up first, and with the obviously influenced and hurried decision, it was damn sealed in the history books.

“How can I resist that?” Your chuckles reflect your masked answer, and clearly, she knows what’s bound to happen. “Guess tomorrow’s going to be your day off then.”

She broke you, and it’s mutual between both parties. Possibly, the threat of a tension between Wonyoung and herself would break apart with this profound comeback of such roots yet who knows? 

These hours have been stressful and quick, but nonetheless, absolutely phenomenal and baffling…

[aakeysmash]

prompt:

reader getting injured because she slipped in the shower, sukuna has to help her get to the hospital, where reader gets some pain meds making her kinda high. she confesses to him while being high

content: fluff, crack. reader is in the hospital and blood is named but there’s no gore. yuuji and sukuna are siblings. i love sukuna and i need him in my life so bad… someone PLS be my sukuna

“So, just to be sure: one margherita for me and one with sausage for you?” Asks you Yuuji while putting on his shoes.

“Yup,” you answer, popping the p. “Can I just have a quick shower while you’re gone?”

“Uhhh, sure, let me go ask Sukuna,” your friend tells you smiling and rushing up the stairs of his home.

You and Yuuji have been best friends since forever. You remember the first time you both cried your eyes out at the park in kindergarten because a lizard had just eaten the ladybug you had been watching for half an hour. Since that moment you’ve been attached at the hip, your homework filled afternoons in high school turning to pizza nights when both of your work schedules allowed you to now.

“Big bro said sure,” comes Yuuji’s voice from the end of the staircase.

“I did in fact not say that,” growls Sukuna from behind him. Sukuna is the same age as you and Yuuji, but he always seemed older. Sometimes wiser, but sure as hell more annoying than his brother. Hotter, too, but that’s a topic for another time.

“I didn’t ask you to join me, big boy,” you say sarcastically, fake smiling. He crosses his arms, leveling you with a bored look.

“Yuu, if you aren’t fast enough you’re not going to find her corpse when you get back,” he tells his brother, still staring you up and down. Yuuji sighs, tired, then opens the front door.

“Make sure to not kill each other. I have a shift after this, stop bickering. You two act like siblings more than I do with you, Sukuna,” he reprimands you both. You and his brother roll your eyes at the same time, then you push him out, closing the door in his face. You turn around and find yourself face to face with Sukuna's menacing grin.

“You have 5 minutes before I come knock at the bathroom door with a kitchen knife, doll.”

You’re scrubbing yourself clean with a random pine body wash you found in the shower when the playlist you put before entering the stall stops. You’re annoyed, because now you’re forced to listen to Sukuna’s ugly songs from the bathroom wall (that he’s blasting just to annoy you), so you try to reach your phone. You’re on your tippy toes, not wanting to get out completely, when you trip and fall since you didn’t wash the soap away from your body. You bump your head on the sink in front of the shower, hard, and you muffle a whine. You close your eyes as hard as you can and open the shower head with the room spinning inside your skull.

“Don’t open your eyes, don’t open your eyes or you’ll fall… fuck, it hurts so bad,” you tell yourself while you speed run the end of the shower and blindly put your shirt over your head. It’s not the first time you've bumped your head on something, you were a crazy kid, so you’ve learned to open your eyes only when you physically can’t function anymore or you'll start seeing stars immediately. You barely get to put your pants on when you notice your forehead feels wet, and you didn't even wash your hair. As you get out of the bathroom wobbling you touch your head. When you open your eyes, you see blood on your hand. The room spins. You barely have time to look up and watch Sukuna coming out of his bedroom frowning before seeing black dots in your vision.

You try opening your eyes, but they feel so heavy. Your body feels rather stiff. What's this smell?

"Oh, she's waking up," a female voice softly says from somewhere next to your right.

"Thank you, miss, I got it from here," a rough voice responds.

"Make sure she drinks a lot, and keep a couple of painkillers near you. The scans show she doesn't have any internal damage, but she hit her head pretty hard. She's going to have a big bruise for a couple of days," the female voice continues. You hear the man making a sound of affirmation.

There’s a brief pause. "Your wife is very lucky. It's not every day that a man takes a woman up four flights of stairs by simple arm strength," the woman concludes sweetly, getting out of the room after he responds with a grunt and closing the door behind her.

"Your ass is lucky I lied or they wouldn’t have let me in, dumbass. Open your eyes, I know you're awake," the voice you now recognise as Sukuna says, getting closer. You try opening your eyes, managing to focus your gaze on him. Everything feels so fluffy, apart from your throat. You cough, and you think you see him rolling his eyes before getting you a glass of water and sitting beside you on a chair. You gulp it down, still feeling fuzzy, then you blink a couple of times.

You gape at him. He's cute. “You look funny,” you say, poking his cheek. He’s so squishy. Like a little mochi. A little mochi filled with strawberries. Strawberries and cream. He slaps your finger away, and you put on a hurt expression. He huffs.

“Why am I here?” You ask. The more you look at him, the more heads he seems to have.

“You fell in the bathroom,” he says, straightening up from the chair and covering your right leg with the duvet the hospital gave you. You raise an eyebrow at his gesture, and he just rolls his eyes again. “Don’t want you to also catch a cold. Yuuji would kill my ass.” You just hum.

“I caught ya when you already fainted. Yuuji came back home and panicked, but he couldn’t back out from work, so I was stuck with your ass. Took ya here but the elevator broke down. And I ate your pizza, by the way. All this is gonna cost ya 200 dollars, cash,” he lists, sprawling back onto his chair, deadpan.

Silence engulfs the both of you, and you don’t know what to say. You heard what the nurse said and you are searching for a way to bring it up, but the words in your mind are all scrambled. It’s probably the morphine that you realise they gave you, IV still attached to your left arm. You open your mouth to say something along the lines of “I’d like to thank your gym membership for this,” but instead the words that leave your mouth are-

“I’d like you to be my husband.”

His eyes snap to your widening ones. “Wait that wasn’t what-“

“Huh?” He just replies, dumbfounded. You panic, waving your hands in the air between you two.

“No, what I meant was- like- thank you for getting me up here- can you stop looking at me with your weird 16 eyes?- not that you aren’t attractive! You’re super hot! But that’s not- oh god,” you whimper, rubbing your face, noticing how you’re just making the situation worse. You prepare yourself for his snarky comeback, closing your eyes, but everything is silent.

Suddenly, you hear him snort. You crack your eyes open, touching the big cotton gauze they put on your forehead. You must be hearing things. It’s definitely the morphine, there’s no way Sukuna is actually laughing.

“Yes, I’m laughing, doll,” he says, chuckling. You widen your eyes.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You cringe.

“Yeah, you kinda did,” he responds, smirking. You groan.

“Take me out to dinner first, damn,” he yawns. You jut your bottom lip out, frowning and giving him your middle finger. Then you register his words.

“You’d come? I mean, if I asked you out.”

“Well, if you’re paying,” he responds, shrugging. That’s still a yes, isn’t it?

He ruffles up his pink hair, black t-shirt straining across his bicep. You can’t contain the urge to poke the muscle.

“Stop touching me like I’m made of play dough, doll,” he sighs, slightly less annoyed than 5 minutes ago.

“Would you let me play with you if you were made of play dough?” you ask, words a little slurred, still poking his arm, and he flexes it. “Don’t show off,” you mumble.

“You’re even weirder when you’re drugged,” he grins. He kinda looks scary, though. If you didn’t know him, you’d piss yourself by looking at his sharp teeth.

“But would you or would you not?” You whine, dragging out the last word, letting your hand fall next to you. He misses the warmth of your hand, so instead, he just puts his on your thigh. To be warm, of course. The room is so cold. Yeah. Definitely because of the missing heat.

“Yeah doll, I would.”

[no-144444]

mishaps online- o.piastri (81)

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

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

summary: oscar accidentally posts a nude online the night before your big concert and launch. oops.

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x singer! fem! reader

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

As you stared at the screen in front of you, your eyes filled with horror. Oscar Jack Piastri, your boyfriend of 3 years, had just posted a nude to his instagram story. 

What the fuck. 

You immediately sprung into action, calling him since you were in Berlin for a concert. He didn’t pick up.

You called Lando next, knowing they were in the same hotel, especially since it was 3am in the fucking morning. You were already getting bombed by tweets and messages, from friends and fans, all asking if you’d seen it. 

“What?” he groaned, groggy from being woken up.

“Lando! Go into Oscar’s room right now please,” you pleaded, happy that you had gotten ahold of someone. 

“What?- Why?” he asked, but obliged all the same, getting out of bed. “You know we're supposed to be on vacation right? He can go to sleep.”

“Is he awake?” You asked, ignoring his complaining. 

“Osc?” he called as he knocked. “Y/n’s on the phone, she wants to talk to you!” 

“Huh?” you heard a yawn from Oscar, then shuffling as he got up. Of course Oscar would send you a nude, then immediately fall asleep. For fuck’s sake. “Baby?” He took the phone out of Lando’s hand and held it to his ear. “You alright?”

“You posted a nude on instagram, please go delete it now,” you blurted out.

He stood still for a moment. “W-what?” 

Lando laughed so hard he fell over. “There’s no way!” 

“I-I didn’t,” he panicked then lowered his voice. “I sent it to you.”

“Well, you sent it to me and your instagram story,” you explained. 

Lando was on the floor, cackling as Oscar almost tripped over him to get to his phone and delete the photo. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeated as he went through his phone, taking down the photo. 

“You are such a muppet!” Lando cried, breathless from laughing. 

“Shut up!” Oscar replied. “This is your fucking fault! You told me to send the picture!”

“To Y/n, not the fucking world Osc!” he chuckled.

To be fair, you understood where Lando was coming from, this was objectively funny. You’d probably be laughing if you weren;t his girlfriend, and if you wouldn’t have to explain this entire situation to your family, including your parents. God, just thinking about it made you sick.

“Is the photo down?” you asked.

“Yeah, it’s down,” he sighed. “I’m so sorry baby I just-”

“Let’s not have this conversation with Lando in the room,” you stopped him and he chuckled. 

“Good idea.”

“Zak’s probably going to call you, and I’m going to go call Margaret now. I love you Osc, talk later?”

“I love you too,” he sighed. “Talk later.”

You hung up the phone and let yourself scream into your pillow for a few seconds, then dialled the number of your manager, Margaret. 

“Y/n? What’s wrong?”

“Oscar posted a nude on instagram by accident,” you sighed. “He’s sorry.”

She took a deep breath. “You know how I love you, right?”

“Yeah?” You answered hesitantly. 

“And how I love you and Oscar and how happy he makes you?”

“Yes?”

“Well right now, I fucking hate him and want him dead. Please give me a few hours to work on this before I can properly face you again, alright?”

You smiled, happy she was taking care of it. “Thank you, and sorry- again.”

She hung up the phone with a groan of frustration. 

Next, someone else called. Oscar’s mom. 

“Hey Nicole,” you tried to keep calm as you spam-texted Oscar about the situation. No way his mother was calling you about this. 

“Hey Y/n,” she smiled. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” you nodded. 

“Is my son really stupid enough to accidentally post a nude picture of himself to his instagram and leave it up for a whole 5 minutes?”

“Apparently so,” you shrugged, slightly laughing. 

Nicole chuckled. “Are you laughing?”

“If I don’t laugh I’ll probably cry, so, yeah.”

She laughed at that. “I’m logging off the internet for a while, tell Osc to text me, yeah?” 

“Of course,” you smiled. “Sorry about this.”

“Jesus, it’s not your fault, don’t worry. How are you?”

“Shocked,” you answered truthfully. “And a bit scared of what’s coming next.”

“I just hope you two are ok,” she added. “I need you as my daughter-in-law.”

You smiled a genuine smile. Nicole was always so welcoming and lovely. “We’re all good, don ‘t worry.”

“Good,” she smiled. “I’ll leave you to it, love you, talk soon.”

“Talk soon,” you smiled and she hung up. 

Immediately, Lando called you.

“I thought you’d be back in bed,” you teased. 

“Trust me, being in the room for Zak and Oscar’s call was worth the missed sleep,” he chuckled and you heard Oscar sigh in the background. “He’s gotten his phone taken off him!” You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, they’ve given me a fucking flip phone instead,” he revealed. “How’d it go with my mum?”

“She’s not ecstatic with your choices, but she’s alright. She mostly wanted to know if we were alright, which we are, in case you were wondering,” you explained. “She wants you to call her.”

“Now?"

“Nah, maybe tomorrow.”

“How are you?” He asked, worried about what you’d say.

“Not an ideal situation, but I’m not mad at you. It was an honest mistake, seriously darling,” you reassured him. “Plus now the internet knows why I constantly have a bruised cervix,” you added, wanting him to loosen up and relax. It was a mistake, an honest mistake. 

You heard Lando laughing, and you got a chuckle out of Oscar, which was enough for you. You stayed on call with them for a while, then turned off your phone to get some rest.

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

You woke up to about a million messages from hundred of different people. Family and friends teasing on the various groupchats, management and your record label freaking out, and Oscar just being upset.

Osc <3: I feel like such an idiot. I cannot believe I did that, especially the night before the start of your tour, and the night of the launch. I'm so sorry baby.

You: It's alright Oscar, I promise. Margaret is already sorting something out right now. It's ok, I swear.

Osc <3: I still feel awful. I'm so sorry.

You: It's alright. Did you at least get your phone back?

Osc <3: Yeah but no social media on it anymore. I can't even look at your instagram :(

You: I think you'll survive lol :) I love you

Osc <3: I love you too.

You got up and out of bed, tired from the stressful night. The concert tonight, the launch tonight. What were your fans going to say?

comments:

ynsbff: something as big as oscar's d-

-> user12: GIRL

user56: girl is bouncing back fast from the shocker last night was

-> user29: fr i'd still be shook my boyfriend posted THAT

landonorris: legend 💙

pierregasly: 💙💙💙

logansargeant: can't wait 💙💙💙

lewishamilton: burning it down and shining on 💙

-> user58: ????? what does this mean????

-> user80: the return of XNDA????

russellgeorge: 💙

valterribottas: 💙

mclaren: 💙🧡

user23: why is the entire grid in the comments with blue hearts?

-> user82: literally? like what do yall know?

danielriccardo: don't know what's gonna hit 'em 💙💙

mercedes: 💙

user13: why is oscar the only one with pink hearts?

-> landonorris: he's not allowed his phone, it's his publicist 😁

-> user90: DAMN. exposing ur bro like that is crazy

-> landonorris: so is posting a nude 🤷🤷🤷🤷

kmag: 💙

charlesleclerc: 💙💙💙

maxverstappen: can't wait 💙

fernandoalonso: Mi favorita💙

lancestroll: it's going to be a wild one 💙

alexalbon: legendary 💙💙💙

lilymhe: my girl 💙💙💙

-> alexalbon: *cough* i'm ur boyfriend? *cough*

-> y/ny/l/n: bless you? do I need to call u a doctor?

zhouguanyu: 💙💙💙

carlossainz: 💙

nicohulkenburg: 💙

estebanocon: 💙

-> landonorris: plz don't crash into this bro 🙌

-> y/ny/l/n: HAHHAHHAHHA

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

You stepped onto the stage and the crowd went crazy. This was it, your first world tour. You were living your dream.

"Hello!" you cheered into your microphone. "I am so happy to be here, thank you all for coming!"

The crowd went wild again.

"Now, before we start, I have a pretty special announcement to make..." you paused for dramatic affect. "My next album 'Curious' drops tonight at midnight! And a very special feature from one of my very good friends, XNDA!"

As the crowd screamed over you and Lewis, who just came on stage, the opening of 'Save your tears' played. You two danced around the stage as you sang, excited with the reception from fans. For the rest of the concert, Lewis stayed on (since he was on another song, but also because he helped produce the album) and you two had so much fun. The concert ended at exactly midnight, and you came off stage on such a high. And there he was. Your Oscar, with a wide smile on his face and his arms open for you to jump into. Which you did, happily.

"Congratulations," he smiled, holding you close.

"Congratulations to you too," you smiled.

He pulled back, a confused look on his face. "What for?"

"Listen to 'Stargirl Interlude'," you shrugged, a smirk on your face. "And tell your mom not to listen to it, yeah?"

He smirked. "Whatever you say baby," and with that, he kissed you. His large hands holding your cheeks as you kissed him back, happy to be in his arms again.

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

comments

user15: OMFG 'STARLGIRL INTERLUDE' WHAT IS GOING ON

user12: wishing i was y/n rn....

landonorris: being horny on main? cringe.

-> y/ny/l/n: not winning for 6 years? cringe.

-> maxfewtrell: HA

lewishamilton: we told yall 🤷🤷🤷

pierregasly: kika has not stopped playing this 💙💙💙

-> user51: as she should.

danielriccardo: since when was my back replaced with oscar's y/n???

-> oscarpiastri: sorry mate, just better 🤷🤷🤷

-> y/ny/l/n: at least daniel's better at keeping his pants on online 😁

-> oscarpiastri: ok I deserved that.

-> landonorris: HAHAHHAHAH

alexalbon: RELAX I DIDN'T NEED TO KNOW ABOUT UR SEX LIFE.

-> y/ny/l/n: bitch ik all about urs too. lily tells me everything.

-> alexalbon: brb, having a breakdown.

logansargeant: @ oscarpiastri first i had to see your dick and now this? mate leave us alone.

-> oscarpiastri: SHUT UP I APOLOGISED.

-> logansargeant: NOT ENOUGH.

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

comments

lewishamilton: mr. stargirl interlude? mr. billie boss nova? mr. the diner? mr. chihiro? is that you?

-> oscarpiastri: hush

logansargeant: @ oscarpiastri hate club leader

-> landonorris: can I join?

-> y/ny/l/n: lando you've been singing chihiro all day. stfu.

-> landonorris: ...

-> user37: were you silent or silenced?

y/ny/l/n: MY BEAUTIFUL BOYFRIEND

-> y/nsbff: thirsting on the main?

-> y/ny/l/n: what have i become?😥

user89: ok, but who is 'i didn't change my number' about?

-> y/ny/l/n: @ logansargeant actually wrote it about williams 😥😥😥

-> logansargeant: Y/N. TOO FAR.

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

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[sloaneispunk]

“001”

frontman!in-ho x you

in-ho had manipulated everyone into thinking he was an angel. but he had one more person i convince, and when he couldn’t, he eliminated every person in the way

⋆°☁⋆° ☁⋆°☁ ⋆°☁ ✿ ⋆°☁⋆° ☁⋆°☁ ⋆°☁

“why do you keep looking in that direction?” gi-hun questioned in-ho as he caught him staring into your direction for the fifth time in the last hour.

“n-nothing, just thought i saw something.” in-ho awkwardly chuckled.

but in all honesty, he was eyeing you. he observed as you talked with your team, the group consisting of two girls and a boy. everytime in-ho looked towards your direction, he noticed how close you were with the only boy in there. it infuriated him, he clenched his jaw and fists at the idea of anything romantic between the two of you.

during the second game, he realised how badly he wanted you. upon watching your team, he grew more and more angered whenever the boy would touch you in anyway. be it holding your hand, resting his hand on your waist, or just brushing up against you.

you turned into his motivation to excel in the games.

one night, he laid awake on his bed. his thoughts trailed from the memories of the both if you accidentally locking eyes, to him even fantasing about killing the boy to get you all for himself. in-ho ran at least a hundred thoughts in his mind, trying to come up with the easiest and quickest way to eliminate his competition.

when it came to ‘mingle’, he had the perfect, most cunning plan to make you swoon right into his arms.

‘the game is mingle. when the number is called out, you are to form groups of the number and enter the nearest room.’

the platform shifted, making every player stumble as the game began. in-ho’s eyes lingered on you, watching jealously as you grabbed onto the boys arm instinctively.

‘9’

“they’ve got four! let’s go!” in-ho was the first to yell, dashing towards your team and grabbing your arm, causing everyone to follow him.

when everyone entered the nearest room, you thanked him. “thank you, sir! you must have really quick reflexes to notice us!”

in-ho could only grin. “it’s nothing, i’m glad you’re-everyone is safe.”

“hey, what do you say, we all stick together? there are more than enough people, i’m sure we can all make it out alive if we play the games together.”

he could combust on the spot. you were doing all the work for him.

as the next round started, you still held onto the boy that in-ho had grown to loathe.

‘5’ there were way too many people.

without even discussing any plans of sorts, in-ho took your hand, dragging you with him without any choice into the nearest room. that made two. you didn’t know, but the two other girls in your team were following behind. but in-ho was quick, before they could enter, he grabbed onto three other men, shoving them in and closing the door.

just as the door locked, you glanced over to the door.

“y/n! help us, please! open the door!” they pleaded, pounding on the door but it wouldn’t budge.

you tried with all your might to yank the door open, but eventually you watched hopelessly as they were being gunned down by the guards.

“no! please, we have to open the door!” you cried, sinking to the floor in agony as their screams came to a stop.

in-ho knelt down in front of you, pulling you into his arms as you had your meltdown. he caressed your hair, whispering sweet nothings to calm you down. he took in the smell of you, using every inch of his self control not to let out a groan.

“hey, it’s okay-look at me.” he cooed, cupping your cheeks in his hand lovingly. “i’m here, you’re safe.”

you nodded, finding comfort in his embrace.

when the next round started, you couldn’t find the boy, and it scared you. but having in-ho with you made things better. he draped an arm around your waist, pulling you close as the platform began to spin.

‘2’

he watched your wandering eyes searching for anyone other than him. in-ho was annoyed. was he not enough for you? was everything he had done not enough to win you over? why did you need anyone else other than him?

“we have to go!” he shouted over the chaos, gently tugging at your jacket.

you hesitated for a second, but ultimately you knew that you didn’t have many more options at hand to play, so you went with him.

just as you were running to the room, in-ho spotted the boy from his peripheral vision. ‘fuck’ he thought.

he ushered you into the room, beckoning you to turn around to face the wall so ‘you don’t have to see the violence and utter havoc taking place’. but in reality, he knew he needed to remove the last of his concerns.

the boy came closer, trying to push in-ho out of the way so he could take his place. the boy opened his mouth the speak, but in-ho was quicker. he grabbed onto the boy’s neck, trapping him in a headlock as he fought hard.

“what are you doing?” the boy tried to squeeze out as in-ho tightened his grip. he glanced at the clock, ten seconds left.

as the seconds passed, he could feel the life fading away in his arms, the andrenaline coursed through every vein in his body. when he heard a final snap, he scurried onto his feet, locking the door behind him as you turned around.

to his surprise, you ran to him, throwing your arms around his abdomen. “i thought you weren’t coming back!”

in-ho had a moment where he was taken aback, but his arms had betrayed him, he took you into his arms, resting his chin on your head.

he loved it. you were practically doing all the work for him.

when the game came to an end, you exited the room with in-ho, hand in hand. when you were back in the room, you searched for the boy but he was nowhere to be seen.

eventually when reality set in, you realised that he might not have made it afterall. that night, you laid in in-ho’s arms as he consoled you. he kept you close to him in approximation and emotionally.

in-ho knew then that his plan had worked. he had isolated you from anyone you had knew from the games, bow you were all his.

[bruhstories]

Bet III

p.1 here & p2. here & p.4 here & p.5 here & p.6 here

summary: the game is on, but in-ho can't focus on it. he's got you on his mind pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, mentions of domestic violence, veeeery slow burn, reader is an orphan, slight voyeurism, people dying ayy yo (but if you watched squid game, this is just normal) w/c: 2.2k

a/n: if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! also feel free to replace y/n's age, i just needed to put a number there lol

In-ho removed the intricately designed mask from his face and poured himself a glass of whisky, one leg crossed over the other as he sat on the leather sofa of the control room. The first game was about to begin soon — always Red Light, Green Light — and he waited for his favourite song to start — always Fly Me To The Moon. There was something so hauntingly beautiful about listening to a love song while people lost all hope, one by one falling to the ground.

It was a fantastic way to get rid of the weakest links, leaving only those resilient alive. Player 101, eliminated. Player 82, eliminated. Player 329, eliminated. Player 2, eliminated. They dropped like flies, frantically clawing at the gates in a futile attempt to escape while the soldiers shot them from above, painting the ground crimson.

Exhilarating was the only word that could describe what In-ho felt in that moment, and nothing compared to it. When happiness died along with his wife, control was the only thing that fulfilled him. He controlled who died and who lived, but he was also being fair — if participants played by the rules, they survived. It couldn’t get any simpler than that.

Obviously, they didn't have a choice, and In-ho knew that well enough. No, players only had the illusion of choice, but that mirage was what kept them in the game. Besides, they chose to come to the island. They chose to gamble their lives. They chose to be greedy. If anything, the games taught them, albeit for a short time, that actions had consequences, and In-ho was their judge, jury and executioner. It was truly thrilling. Exciting. Exhilarating.

His phone lit up with a notification from the security cameras concealed in his house. Irked by the sudden disturbance, he opened the app to check the footage. You weren't supposed to be there at that time, because you had already been at his house in the morning. In-ho watched you lock the door behind you, thinking today was the day you stole from him and proved him right.  He scoffed, hoping you would last longer than one day, but to his surprise, you sat on the kitchen floor, knees to your chest, crying. 

He couldn't send you a text — it would have made it obvious that he knew you were there, and his eyes lingered on his phone, forgetting about the game in front of him for a moment. In-ho watched you take out your phone and type, and not a minute later he received a text.

Good morning again! I had a bit of free time after my second job today and came to check on Eunjoo. I'll be leaving in an hour for my other job and I'm not charging for the extra visit.

In-ho stared at the big screen, completely dumbfounded and ignorant to the people dying right before his eyes. How were you working that many jobs? That was, if you were even telling the truth. But he would find out soon, because he left a stack of 2 million won on his nightstand, eagerly waiting for you to take it. You had to take it. You had to be the same as everyone else.

That's absolutely fine. If you don't mind me asking, how many jobs are you working?

He swapped back to the security cameras and watched you wipe the tears off your face with the back of your hand, smiling at his text. Did he say something funny? Why on Earth would you be smiling when a minute ago you had tears rolling down your cheeks?

Officially two, unofficially three. I teach Korean to a family of immigrants, but that's unpaid. I think of it as volunteering. They do feed me, though! My other job is a mascot at Lotte World.

In-ho shattered the empty glass in his hand while reading your text, and winced when he felt blood seeping from a fresh cut. Why, just why did you have to prove him wrong? He watched you go into his bedroom with a pile of freshly clean and dried shirts, ignoring the money. You saw the stack, he noticed you staring at it, hoping you grabbed it, but you found his ironing board and began to iron his shirts, not sparing the money another glance.

Why?

Through the camera, he saw you text back.

Why what?

"Tsk." In-ho scoffed at your question while wrapping a bandage around his palm.

Why are you working that many jobs?

Ah. My uncle has debts. Unfortunately, I had to drop out from uni to help him pay for them. It's fine though, I like what I'm doing. 

How old are you?

23.

Jesus Christ, you were so young, yet life had been unfair to you. You deserved an education, a better life, and it cemented his ideal that the world needed to rid itself of the trash. He didn't know the full details, but he was sure to find out. You were unlike anyone he's met before. At least for now, at least until you proved him right.

Ding!

In-ho opened a picture from you — Eunjoo curling up on the left side of his bed, paws under her, looking like a loaf of bread, and the question 'Is that your side of the bed?' under it.

Indeed it is. 

I knew it! Aww, she misses you :( 

How strange it was to read those words. How strange it was to think about someone, or something missing him. To In-ho that was a foreign feeling, and he loosened his tie, swallowing the lump in his throat. He'd seen Eunjoo sleep on his side of the bed before, when he was gone, but he assumed it was just comfortable for her. 

Animals truly were better than humans. If they betrayed their owners, they did it out of necessity. When humans betrayed, it was by choice. 

In-ho watched you neatly adjust his ironed shirt on a coat hanger that you hung in his wardrobe, disregarding the Red Light, Green Light game that had long finished, and it hit him like a train that you reminded him of his wife. God, you were so much like his wife it infuriated him, because no one was allowed to take that place in his heart. No one was allowed to make him feel anything other than hatred.

You had to make a mistake, to prove to him that you were just like everybody else, and if money didn't make you crack, something else would. In-ho made it his purpose to unravel your darkest secrets, whether through manipulation or sheer force, but the distance between the two of you proved a greater obstacle than he thought. 

He watched you finish ironing his clothes, watched you refill Eunjoo's water bowl, watched you comb your hair and put lip balm on while staring into his mirror, and it felt so wrong to study all your quirks and habits without you even knowing. It was the closest thing to having a normal life. But nothing about what he was doing was normal. Especially not watching you be so oblivious to his true self.

With a sigh, In-ho adjusted his mask left the control room to instruct his subordinates, the square-masked guards, to prepare  for the next game, Neolttwigi, the soldiers to take the remaining players back to their beds, and the workers to remove the corpses. 188 players survived and more than 50% were eliminated. In-ho, in his Front Man persona, should've focused on the games, but he couldn't, for some unknown reason, shake off the image of you crying on his kitchen floor. He didn’t dare ask what happened. How could he? It would destroy all the secrecy.

It wasn't that he cared about you — he didn't. You appeared to be a positive, cheerful and talkative person, so whatever hurt your feelings must have been important. Was it your uncle? Your boyfriend? He scoffed at that thought. The mere idea of some guy breaking your heart made him irrationally angry, and In-ho was lucky that his mask concealed his frustration. 

He decided to pay the remaining players a visit, accompanied by eight armed guards, and, just like last year, and the year before, and the year before that, there was always a woman who dropped to her knees, begging to be spared and allowed to go home. Another one followed, and even men asked for forgiveness, but they just couldn't get it through their thick skulls that they chose to be there. They chose to gamble their lives away, they chose to borrow money and end up with debts they could never afford to repay. No one forced them to play the games.

When the room was filled with echoing cries and hysterical sobs, In-ho fired a single shot in the air, shutting everyone up. They all looked at him with fear in their eyes like pigs in a slaughterhouse waiting to be gutted, and he lowered the gun, standing firm on his feet.

"You must be mistaken. You are not here to be punished, you are all here because of the choices you made." In-ho simply said, his voice distorted by the mask. 

He took notice of teams already being formed, of those who were willing to step on corpses just to get the big prize and those who would rather sacrifice themselves, because there were always people who wanted to play the hero. He studied them all before they got recruited, and knew 456 secrets, 456 names, 456 lives. Well, only 188 survived.

"We came here to win money, not to fucking die!" Player 072 shouted from the back of the room. "And if I'm correct, we can vote to go back home."

Ah, yet another one who thought they could outsmart In-ho. He's been there before. He walked that path before, and it taught him that people don't change. Ever. Even if they voted to leave, they always came back.

"Of course, clause three of the consent form. If the majority decides to go home, you are free to do so. We don't hold anyone against their will." In-ho nodded. "But before you make your choice, allow me to tell you the current accumulated prize."

He pressed a button on a small, black remote and a large glass piggy bank was lowered from the ceiling as the lights in the room dimmed down. Stacks upon stacks of money piled up in the piggy bank, and the screen counted the current prize — 26.8 billion won. In-ho watched how their faces lit up at the amount of money accumulated, but also how the penny dropped for most of them — the more people died, the more money the survivors got.

"If you choose to leave, the money will be distributed amongst the deceased players' families. It’s only fair." He said, and left the room so that the soldiers could prepare for the democratic vote.

"You're manipulating us!" In-ho heard a player shout, and maybe he did. Maybe he was chipping away at their humanity to bring out the worst in them, but it was for the best. At least by dying they served a purpose.

It was no surprise that the majority voted to stay, 95 to 93. Good — he didn't have to go through the trouble of sending them home. The soldiers and workers brought food for the players, and In-ho checked his phone in the safety of his room. There was no text from you, and it was almost time for you to check on Eunjoo, but when it hit 9 and you weren't in his house, he felt a knot in his stomach, an uneasy feeling. Was he worried? Of course he was, for his cat, not for you.

Ding!

The sound of his phone caught him off guard, almost startling him, almost making him feel relieved when he saw it was you, and In-ho read the text.

Evening! Traffic was baaad this evening but I'm nearly at the penthouse. Will Eunjoo ever forgive me? :( 

The stupid sad face you sent made the image of you pouting pop up in his head and he wondered why. There wasn't a good enough reason for you to be haunting him like a phantom. You were a nobody to him.

Eunjoo might, but I won't.

In-ho immediately regretted pressing send. It was unprofessional and stupid of him to text such a reply, because you weren't friends. He had no friends. 

I'm so sorry, but I promise I'll make it up to you, Mr. Hwang! I really need to get you a gift for letting me use your shower anyway.

A relieved sigh escaped his lips when you didn't take his message the wrong way, but part of him was hoping you would try to flirt with him, seduce him, do anything to prove him right. And yet again, you remained true to yourself.

He watched you on the cameras again, how you invaded his home, his life, how you fed Eunjoo and munched on prawn crackers again, disappointed that you, for the second day in a row, refused to use anything in his house for yourself except for the shower and the TV.

There was still time to win the bet, and he never lost.

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn @hobiesbrownsgf @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm

please keep in mind that if i didn't tag you it's because i either missed it, or i couldn't find your age on your blog. there will be smut.

[startaegi]

CHAPTER 001 . . .

previous next masterlist playlist

You often wondered about the first moment you fell in love. It happened so gradually that you couldn't quite recall the moment it finally clicked. The same thought followed you in the small hours of the night, on the long work days when your feet and back ached, and especially on the days when you missed his presence most.

It had been the summer of 2008 when you first met him. You were a bright eyed eleven year old, too innocent for the world. The sun had finally started shining after a long week of summer showers and so your sketch pads laid against the hot pavement, pencils scattered around you. Your bottom lip was jutted in concentration, hands flying across the paper, a brown pencil tucked between your fingers.

You paused as a shadow blocked the sunlight casting darkness across your drawing. You slowly glanced upward expecting your mother but instead a boy towered over you, eyes focused on the paper at your folded legs. You looked down and back at him again.

"That's pretty good" He said, finger pointed to the cat drawing you were currently sketching.

"Thanks" You replied, tone clipped. "Can you move? You're blocking the sunlight"

He shuffled to the side, the soles of his shoes scuffing against the pavement. He continued to hover over you for the next minute or two, eyes focused and head moving when your pencil flicked in a certain direction. You tried your best to remain cool, uncomfortable under the unknown boys stare.

You dropped the pencil, staring up at him. "What are you doing?" You questioned.

"Watching you" He replied matter of factly.

"It's creepy"

He shrugged. "As i've heard before"

His words softened your gaze a little. You knew what kids were like. Their mean words, their horrid actions. You had known it a little too well, it was the reason you chose to stay so close guarded. Even at eleven you knew how cruel the world could be.

You straightened your back, apologetically looking back at him. "I didn't mean that" You said sincerely.

"It's okay, i'm used to it" He laughed it off. "Do you live here?" The boy pointed to the house behind you, the one with the windows pulled open and the trot music lowly drifting out.

"Yeah" You admitted, a little embarrassed.

He scratched the back of his arm, a red mark, almost like a burn, stood out against his pale skin. "Cool, we're neighbours" He beamed.

Hyehwa Station was fairly empty for a Saturday night. The only sounds came from the racketing trains passing through and the footsteps of the commuters heading home after their 9 to 5's. You wrapped the coat tighter around yourself, attempting to savour the warmth and took a seat at the empty bench. The small screen read ten minutes until the next train to Itaewon. You let out a sigh stretching your legs. The long work hours were slowly killing you.

Too busy trying not to fall asleep you took no notice of the person now sat beside you, too tired to care, until he loudly cleared his throat. You looked to your right, a well dressed man smiled, a little menacing if you were honest, at you, briefcase at his side. You smiled awkwardly back, bowing your head slightly out of politeness.

"Would you like to play a game?" The man questioned, the same uncanny smile on his face.

The unsettling feeling of dread settled in your stomach. You moved closer to the edge of the bench, as far from him as you could. "Excuse me?" You replied.

His head titled to the side, facial expression frozen. "Would you like to play a game?" He repeated.

"No thank you" You muttered under your breath.

The stranger didn't reply instead he stood up, opening the briefcase on the now empty spot he had once been sitting. You watched him in confusion, you didn't have the time or energy to be dealing with the strange people that frequented the subway stations. You pinched the bridge between your eyebrows, sighing loudly.

"Would you like to play a game?" He asked again as if stuck on a record.

"Look-" You started, turning to face him but froze momentarily. "What?" You asked dumbfounded.

Enough money to pay the month's rent gleamed up at you. Stacks upon stacks of Korean won sat neatly in the briefcase. You glanced up at him and back at the bills again. You didn't hesitate before asking, "What's the game?"

The man's eyes sparkled, his smile somehow becoming wider. He reminded you of something from the horror comics you used to read as a child.

He reached into the case pulling out two envelopes, red and blue. "Ddakji" He said, gaze fixated on you. "I'm sure you know how to play"

You hadn't in years, you'd probably only played it once or twice but you nodded nonetheless.

His twinkling eyes crinkled with a smile, "Win and i'll give you 100,000 won. Lose and you'll receive a punishment." He paused. "Ready?"

Your brows furrowed. "Punishment?"

"Just a light slap"

At this point you didn't care, you would've taken any punishment if it meant winning the money in that briefcase and you were winning it.

"Okay" You agreed, standing up and shrugging the backpack from your shoulders, then placing it onto the bench.

Five rounds later and you were 100,000 won richer. Your left cheek throbbed, your eyes filled with tears. Your mouth tasted metallic from the cuts you'd bit into your cheeks in frustration. He was too good at this, his calmness told you he'd done it one too many times.

"Congratulations, Y/N-ssi" The man applauded, slowly clapping.

You stared back at him through hooded eyes, attempting to catch your breath. He stretched out a hand, fingers delicately picking up the stack of cash and passing it to you. You quickly snatched it, scared he would take it away from you and tucked it safely into the pocket of your coat.

He closed the case, turning to face you cheerfully. It seemed this man didn't know how to be upset. He reached into his pocket, taking out a small brown card and holding it out for you. You hesitated but took it from his grasp. Three symbols stared up you, a square, a triangle and a circle.

"Call the number on the back if you're interested in winning a lot more" He said, bowing in your direction and then taking off towards the exit.

You flipped it over and truth be told a number was there. Your mouth twisted, mind in battle with itself. If it was another game of ddakji or even worse, some other childhood game, you'd be screwed, you would be loosing whatever money was up for grabs in the first round. Your childhood was spent in comic books and colouring pencils, or in textbooks and homework, not on the playground with other kids playing games, you'd have no idea how too.

Your mind contemplated it over on the train ride home, occupying your running thoughts with something else for once. You entered the cold apartment at almost midnight, instantly throwing yourself face down onto the bed. Your backpack and coat still on. You let your body sink into the mattress, exhaling loudly. The apartment was silent, so quiet you could hear the refrigerator humming and the wind rattling against the windows.

These were the nights when your mind went to him. When it was quiet. When it was your heartbeat you could hear and not his underneath you. You flipped onto your back, backpack digging into you, moving uncomfortably you pulled it from your shoulders tossing it onto the floor. Your fingers found your pockets taking out the brown card, staring intently at the phone number. When had your life become such a shit show, when had accepting a beating from a stranger in the subway station for 100,000 become the normal. This wasn't how you planned it for yourself. You often wondered where it all went wrong.

previous next masterlist playlist

note . . . i had to give the reader an age to make the story make sense!! i listened to rosé’s album on repeat writing this chapter and it fits the plot perfectly. layout inspo for entire series belongs to @ourseasone

taglist . . . let me know if you wanna be added!

[solxamber]

(I sprint in like the Flash on a sugar high)

I'm here for the holiday event!! Hopefully I'm doing this right, I just love love love your writing & didn't wanna miss the opportunity.

I'd like to request the following: Scarabia, prompt #5 (It's always been you), and fluff (like romantic), pretty please!!

—🐈‍⬛

omg hi 🐈‍⬛️ anon!! and thank you <3

It's You || Jamil Viper

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "It's always been you: ; Genre: Fluff (+ very mild Hurt/Comfort)

Jamil was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, his expression carefully neutral. But his next words shattered the facade.

“What’s your type?”

You blinked at him, pausing mid-bite of the snack he’d casually handed you moments ago. “Huh?”

He shrugged, looking at the ceiling like he didn’t care, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “I’m just curious. You’re always surrounded by people—Ace, Kalim, everyone else. Surely you’ve thought about it.”

The question was so startlingly out of character for Jamil that you just stared at him, trying to figure out if this was some weird prank. But when his gaze flickered to you, there was a vulnerability there, fleeting but unmistakable.

“Well,” you said slowly, deciding to indulge him. “I guess I like someone who’s reliable. Smart. Quick on their feet. Someone who takes care of others, even when it’s thankless. And, uh…” You smiled to yourself. “Someone with nice eyes and hair. Maybe good at cooking too.”

You looked back at him, and he looked like you’d just punched him in the gut.

“Jamil?” you asked, concerned.

He didn’t answer. His lips parted as if to say something, but no sound came out. Instead, his expression twisted, heartbreak and disbelief warring in his eyes.

You laughed softly, trying to ease the tension. “You’re a sharp guy, Jamil. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” With that, you stood and stretched, brushing imaginary crumbs off your hands. “Goodnight.”

You left him there, frozen, and retreated to the safety of your dorm.

Hours later, frantic knocking yanked you out of sleep. You groaned, stumbling to the door.

“Who—” you began, but stopped when you saw Jamil.

He looked… frazzled. His scarf was askew, his hair messier than usual, and his expression was an uncharacteristic mix of panic and determination. He looked like he had run straight from his room, like he couldn’t wait another second.

“Jamil? Are you okay?” you asked, alarmed.

“No,” he said bluntly. “I mean—yes. But no.” He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, pacing in your small space. “I… I’ve been trying to figure this out. What you said. And…”

He stopped, turning to you, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “It’s me, isn’t it?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“You didn’t say it outright, but it’s me.” His voice was soft, almost disbelieving. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He looked so lost, so unlike himself, that it broke something in you. You stepped closer, placing your hands on his arms. “Jamil, you’re one of the smartest people I know. But sometimes, you’re incredibly dense.”

Before he could respond, you tilted up and kissed him.

For a moment, he froze. Then he melted against you, his hands coming up to hold you close, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that made your knees weak. He kissed you like he’d been dying of thirst, and you were the only oasis he’d ever known.

When you finally broke apart, he pressed his forehead to yours, breathing heavily. “You make it impossible for me to recognize myself,” he admitted softly, his voice tinged with awe. “You… you’re changing everything I thought I knew.”

“Good,” you whispered. “Because you’ve been changing everything for me too. It's always been you.”

“I love you,” he said, the words almost trembling as they left his lips.

“I love you too, Jamil.” You smiled, pulling him into another kiss.

Masterlist

[just-dreaming-marvel]

The Accident

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3,170ish

Summary: Logan seems to always be there to rescue you.

Warnings: injuries, car accident

Notes: I completely made this up the other day. I hope people enjoy it.

Your shoes felt like they were weighing you down with each step you made up the staircase. Why the hell was your apartment on the fourth floor, and why the hell did you keep taking the closing shifts at the bar? Ready to pass out, you finally made it to your floor and slowly made your way down the hall. Your eyes glanced at your neighbor’s door as you walked past, hoping to hear the deep voice of your crush. It was silly since it was past midnight, but you had learned quickly upon moving in that your neighbors seemed not to care what hour they were yelling at.

When you reached your door, you leaned against it with a sigh. Digging through your purse sounded like a chore right now. Slowly, you slid down the door and sat on your mat. Your head fell back against the door with a soft thud, eyes closing.

You don’t know how long you were like that before the sound of heavy boots pulled you from your quiet bubble. Before you knew it, a rough hand was on your shoulder, gently shaking you.

“Y/N,” Logan's gruff voice echoed in your ears. “Y/N, sweetheart, wake up.”

“Mmm?” you hummed. Your head moved to face Logan as your eyes slowly opened. 

Logan was crouched down with worry etched on his face. “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” You reached out to the sides, stretching.

“Really? You’re fast asleep at your doorstep. Did you lose your keys?”

“No, I was too tired after work. What time is it?”

“It’s 5:30 in the morning.”

You laughed. “Well, at least I got some sleep.”

“It’s not safe for you to be sleeping out in the hall, Y/N.”

The true concern in Logan's eyes caused you to stop laughing. “I know.”

"Next time, call Wade or I. We can open the door for ya.”

“Thanks.”

He gave a little grunt before taking your hand and helping you to stand up straight. Your heart rapidly beat as you realized how close you were standing to Logan. His hand kept a strong hold on yours as the two of you stared at each other. 

Logan soon cleared his throat and pulled his hand from yours. “I, uh, I gotta go to work,” he said. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah," you nodded. “Thanks for waking me.”

“Anytime.”

Logan watched as you dug your keys out of your purse and unlocked your door. You turned to face him with a soft smile that threatened to melt his hardened shell. 

“Thanks again, Logan,” you said. “See you around.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. "See ya.”

He watched as you slipped into your apartment and shut the door. He didn't move until he heard the door lock behind you. Logan stuffed his hands in his leather jacket and turned around to head to work. His mind was on you the entire way there. Ever since Wade had introduced you to him, Logan knew that there was something different about you. You were sweet and kind even when Logan was guarded and often blew you off. But you didn't care. The more interactions with you he had, the more he wanted to get to know you. Though, he was careful about it. Logan was afraid to get too attached to you. Everyone he had ever cared about was dead; he wouldn't let you end up like them.

~~~

Another long day at work as you trudged up the stairs for the second day in a row. This time, you vowed to make it to your bed. As you reached the top of the stairs, you tripped, falling forward. Before you could land harshly on the ground, strong arms caught you.

“Whoa, there, sweetheart,” Logan’s rough voice soothed you as he lifted you up to your feet. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, catching your breath. “Thanks for catching me.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The two of you stood there, staring at each other in growing silence. Your hands were on his shoulders while his hands were on your waist.

“Uh,” Logan cleared his throat as he pulled away and stepped back, “you coming home from work?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Another long shift. Where are you off to?”

“Just needed to get out for a moment. Wade is on one and Vanessa is with him.”

You giggled. “So I guess that means I will be needing my headphones tonight.”

“Sorry. I can try to get him to stop.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind… Do you, uh, need a place to go?”

Logan shook his head. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Logan, you’re never a bother. I have an extra bedroom, bed made, and everything.”

“I don’t know—“

“It’s the least I can do after you saved me the last two nights.”

Logan knew that he shouldn’t. Getting close to you was a dangerous game, but you were looking at him with those eyes he couldn’t say no to. “Fine,” he sighed. Your smile made it all worth it.

“Great! Follow me.”

Logan trailed behind you and led him to your apartment. You opened the door, holding it open so that he could enter. He had been in your apartment a few times, and it never ceased to feel so homey. 

“The extra bedroom is the first door on your right with the bathroom just across from it,” you told him as you hung up your purse and jacket. You slipped off your shoes underneath it.

“Thanks,” Logan muttered, awkwardly standing there with his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets as to not intrude on your space.

“Make yourself at home, Logan.” You waved around the living room as you headed to the kitchen. “Need a drink?”

“Uh, no, thanks.”

“You’re probably tired, long day a work, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then, I won’t keep you. Feel free to head to bed. I’ll be out here winding down if you need anything.”

“You’re not going to bed?”

“I’m gonna watched an episode of a show then I will.”

“Oh… okay.” He watched as you grabbed a water bottle and headed over to the couch. “Night then.”

You looked over with a smile. “Night, Logan.” Then you turned your focus to your tv.

Logan lingered in his spot, watching as you pulled a blanket over you and got comfortable. He yearned to join you on the couch, to pull you into him and hold you close. But he couldn’t. It was too dangerous for you, even though he was living in another universe and didn’t have many enemies here. Logan could gain enemies easily and could even hurt you himself. He would just have to learn to love you from afar and just be okay with it.

~~~

A nightmare woke Logan up just a few hours later. He threw the covers off of his sweaty body and got out of bed. Logan didn’t even think twice about the fact that he was just in his underwear before he exited the room and headed to the kitchen. The sight of the tv still on had him freezing in place. You were still out there. He strained his ears to hear your steady breathing. Logan carefully snuck over to the couch as peered over. You were sound asleep. His eyes softened at he took you in. He didn’t think you could be prettier than you already were, but then there you were.

With quick but quiet movements, Logan grabbed a drink and then came back over to the couch. He crouched down in front of you and allowed himself to take advantage of being this close to you for a moment, just staring lovingly. He was so glad that you weren’t awake and that Wade was not around to tease him. Finally, Logan gently pushed his arms underneath you and pulled you into his bare chest. He carried you with ease to your bedroom and tucked you in. Logan couldn’t help himself when he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your head.

“Sleep well, sweetheart,” he whispered, giving you one last look before slipping out of the room.

~~~

Logan closed your apartment door quietly before he walked over and entered his own. He headed to his room to get ready for the day when a familiar voice stopped him.

“So… how’s Y/N?” Logan could practically hear Wade’s smirk.

“Fine,” Logan huffed. 

“Yeah? And how are you? Riddled with guilt that you did the deed and then walked out on her?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You didn’t deny it! You had sex!”

“Quiet! Her room is on the other side of the wall. And we did not.”

“Seriously?”

“She offered me a bed since you had Vanessa over.”

“How kind of her. Maybe next time, make a move and share a bed, okay? And do it before I lock you two in a room and force the one bed trope on you.”

“She doesn’t like me that way.”

Wade laughed. “You must be losing your eyesight, peanut. The only one that Y/N has eyes for is you, clearly.”

“Whatever.” Logan stomped back to his room.

“I’m just saying, you may wanna make a move sooner rather than later, Romeo.”

~~~

When you woke up in your bed, you were surprised. You stretched and got yourself up and out of your room. The guest room was open, with the bed made, gaining your concern. 

“Logan?” You called, heading into the living area. No response. “Logan?” 

You were alone in your apartment. You sighed, slightly disappointed that Logan didn’t say goodbye. You walked into the kitchen and spotted a note on the counter.

Didn’t want to wake you. Had to go to work. Thanks for the bed. ~ L.H.

You smiled at the note, grateful that he even thought to leave it. It was your day off, so you got to work on getting your apartment cleaned and a list of errands that needed to be done.

By early afternoon you had ran most of your errands and were driving home. Your phone buzzed in your cupholder and you quietly pressed the button to answer it.

“Hello?” 

“Hi, Y/N, it’s uh, me, Logan,” his nervous voice filled the car.

You giggled. “Hi, Logan. Do you need something? I’m almost home.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess. I got off work early and was thinking that maybe you’d want to get some, uh, food with me?” You bit your lip as Logan spoke, melting at his nervousness. “Of course, if you don’t want to—“

“No! No! I’d love to.”

“Okay. I can meet you downstairs, help you bring things up, and then we can go.”

“Sounds great. See you in a minute.”

“See ya in a minute.”

You couldn’t stop the large smile that grew over your face as Logan hung up the phone. Your fingers anxiously tapped at the steering wheel as you waiting for the light to turn green. As soon as it did, you starting across the intersection. You didn’t make it across before a car rammed into your side.

~~~

Logan’s hands were stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket. He was bouncing on his heels as he looked around for your car. He caught sight of it at the nearest stoplight and kept his eyes glued to it. He saw the incoming car before you did.

“Y/N!” Shouted from his lips as his body propelled forward.

The crashing sound echoed around the area as everything came to a halt the moment the car collided with yours. Logan was at the scene in record time. He paid no mind to the driver in the other car as he rushed to where the cars met, at the driver’s door. 

You were slumped in the seat, cut up and bloody. Logan could hear your breathing, a slight wheeze behind it. Witnesses gathered around, calling 911 and seeing if they could help, but Logan’s sole focus was you and only you. He used his strength to push the cars apart so that he could get to you. He opened your car door and was quick to grab you before you could be jostled too much.

“Sweetheart, it’s me,” he said, trying to remain calm. “I’m here, I got you.”

With a snikt, Logan’s claws appeared from one of his knuckles. He used it to carefully cut you free from the seatbelt and the airbag. With great care, Logan pulled you out of the car and laid you on the street.

“Y/N, sweetheart, wake up,” he pleaded. 

You were stilling bleeding in various places and there was no sign of you waking. The sirens grew closer but not before Wade did.

“Holy shit! Peanut!” Wade was dressed in his Deadpool suit, ready for action. “What the hell happened here? You distract her with your good looks?”

“Shut the fuck up, Wilson!” Logan snapped. “That car ran through a red like and rammed into her.” His focus returned to you, immediately softening. “You gotta wake up, sweetheart. Listen to my voice and wake up.”

EMTs rushed over with a stretcher and their other equipment.

“Sir,” one of them called, “we need you to move so that we can check her out.”

Logan bit down the desire to fight back, brushing his hand over your cheek before pulling away. He watched with an intense stare at every move the EMTs made. The EMTs didn’t bother to fight him as he climbed into the ambulance with them, headed for the hospital. Though, once there, he was forced into the waiting room where he continued to pace, unable to sit still.

~~~

“Mr. Howlett?” A nurse called, hours after they had brought you in.

“Yes,” Logan’s long legs made quick work of cutting the distance between him and the nurse.

“Miss Y/N is back in a room now. She had a broken arm, a concussion, a few broken ribs, and some stitches. Nothing she can’t heal from. She got extremely lucky.”

Logan felt little relief since you were still injured and he had yet to see you with his own eyes. He followed the nurse back to your room and gave her a grateful nod before pulling a chair to your bedside and taking a seat. His hands were trembling slightly as he reached for your hand and cupped it between his rough ones. Logan waited there silently for hours until you woke up with a cough. He was quick to pour you some water and bring the cup to your lips. He helped you take a drink before he sat back down.

“Lo—Logan?” You rasped.

“Hey, sweetheart,” his lips lifted slightly, though you could see the great concern still etched on his face. 

“You’re here…”

“Of course, I’m here. No place I’d rather be… You scared me real bad back there, sweetheart. I thought I was gonna lose you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. Just glad you’re okay.”

~~~

Logan didn’t leave your side, even once your were discharged. Your guest room became his room and he made sure that you were taken care of.

“I’m fine, Logan,” you tried to wave him off with your good hand. “Go to work. You haven’t been in a few days. I’ll be fine.”

“But you—“

“I won’t leave the house without you or Wade. I’ll call if I need anything. Go.”

Logan sighed. “Fine. But I have my phone on.”

~~~

Your apartment was driving you crazy. You needed to get out. You knew that Wade wasn’t home due to how quiet it was next door and you weren’t about to call Logan just because of your boredom. You decided that you could handle getting the mail by yourself. Making sure that your phone was on you, you left your apartment and headed for the stairs. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t see that Wade had left one of his stuffed animal snakes near the stairs, causing you to trip over it. You landed with a loud thud at the top of the stairs, hitting your head against the wall. You cried out as tears gathered in your eyes. With trembling hands, you had your phone call Logan.

“Sweetheart?” The concern in his voice made you wince. “You alright?”

“Logan,” you whimpered.

“What is it? What happened?”

“I’m sorry. I should have stayed inside. I got bored and I fell—“

“I’m on my way. Stay on the line. What hurts, sweetheart? Keep talking to me.”

“My… my head… my arm… my side…”

“Shit,” he muttered. “Can you get back into the apartment?”

You thought for a painful second. “…No.”

“That’s okay. I’m almost there. Just stay with me, sweetheart. Stay awake.”

“”m… tryin’…” Your head was getting fuzzy and it was hard to keep your eyes open. “…all…fuzzy…”

You heard loud footsteps rushing up the stairs before you finally blacked out.

~~~

When you came back to, you were tucked into your own bed. The lights were all off and Logan was sitting beside you on the bed. His head had fallen back and his mouth was open slightly, he was asleep. You needed to sit up but you were afraid of waking him. You tried to push yourself up with one arm but let a whine slip from your lips. Logan jumped awake, eyes wide and frantic as he stared down at you.

“Are you okay?” He asked, keeping his voice soft. “Is something wrong?”

“Sorry,” you whispered. “I just needed to move. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What do you need? I can help.”

“You don’t have to. You’ve already done too much.”

“I want to.”

You stared at Logan, seeing that he meant it with how his eyes were looking at you. “Why?”

Logan sighed, running a hand down his face. “This is not how I wanted this to go. I was supposed to take you out, maybe a few times, then tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“How much I care about you. How seeing you bloodied and bruised had me scared out of my mind… I can’t live without you, sweetheart. You are the greatest part of my day… every day.”

“Logan,” tears welled up in your eyes, “I care about you too, very much.”

Logan’s lips lifted up in a smile that you had rarely ever seen. His hands came up to gently hold your face. “When you’re feeling better, I’d like to take you out.”

“I’d like that.”

“Woot woot!” Wade shouted from the other side of the wall. “About damn time.”

You winced at the loudness. Logan scowled at the wall as he pulled you into him like that would protect you from Wade’s voice.

“Knock it off, Wade,” he whisper shouted. “She’s concussed.”

“Oh, yeah!” Wade didn’t quiet down. “Sorry!”

Logan shook his head. “I’m gonna—“

“Don’t,” you stopped him from letting you go. “Leave him… I’m fine as long as you’re here.”

He held you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Always, sweetheart. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

[4chensungs]

pls pls pls can you write something about sucking jisung off………… i love you <3

nsfw. +18. oral (m rec.)

you were so tired of waiting for your boyfriend to come home; the insane amount of things you did today while he was at the company since early in the morning.

you cleaned your shared room and your shared closet, spent solid two hours online shopping. jisung wasn't much different, he kept fighting the urge to not message you "i miss you" every 5 minutes, or else he'd get in trouble.

your eyes were closing involuntarily while you were under the warm blankets of your bed, and although you promised him that you would wait for him, it was already so late.

when you heard the sound of keys fumbling from afar you knew it was him, and you mentally thanked God for not getting asleep before the time he got home.

you ran out of the bedroom, smiling when you were met with jisung's figure from across the room, arms wide open for you.

you practically jumped in his embrace as his hands made their way under your thighs, being secure while carrying you.

"hi baby, oh my god." he leaned away from the hug to peck your lips, smiling. "i tried my best to leave early but we had tons of meetings and they wanted us to practice more for the next-"

you cut him off by kissing him again, fingers getting lost in the dark hair locks on his nape. jisung smiled between the kiss, walking further away the room with you still in his arms.

when his lips left yours to catch his breath, his eyes scanned over your body. just noticing that you were wearing his all time favorite lace night gown of yours. 

you grabbed his jaw to push his head up, pecking his lips again and again. "at least try to hide your stare, ji.”

jisung clicked his tongue, a blush painting his cheeks. making his and your way to your shared bedroom, "you're cute, princess. can't hold myself when you wear that."

"i know." you smiled again, still massaging his hair. "how was practice?"

"nice, but i got yelled at a million times. couldn't focus when all i was thinking about was you." he said before kissing your cheek.

you laughed and playfully slapped his arm, leaning to hug him again with your face deep buried in his chest.

jisung squeezed your thigh, "get on the bed for me while i take a bath, princess. i'll be fast."

you jumped off his body with a pout painting your lips, not wanting to stay a minute more without his presence and his touch.

you almost choked when your boyfriend got out of the bathroom, his hair a bit wet and his usual sleep attire being today’s choice. grey sweatpants and a black shirt.

it was humiliating to see the way your legs started to press together in the exact moment he appeared. fuck.

jisung joined you on the bed, both of you smirking as you got up slightly to hover over him, “oh hi there.”

“hey, gorgeous.” his hands flew to your hips, messing with the flimsy fabric of the lace covering your body.

you kissed his lips, his tongue entering your mouth in a hot minute, the heat of the kiss making you more in need than you’ve ever been.

“can i suck you off, ji?” you mumbled in between, desperation being heard through your voice. “help you relax.”

jisung couldn’t hold back a smile when you asked him that so nicely. puppy eyes looking up at his own, fuck, you made him crazy.

“get to work.”

you smiled sheepishly, letting your hands slide all over his body, crawling back to the edge of the bed.

jisung made space for you between his legs, caressing your hair while you helped him take off his sweats, being met with the hard erection on his boxers.

your hand teasingly cupped his cock through his boxers, and you let out a chuckle when his reaction was exactly what you were craving for.

“cmon, baby. don’t tease.” jisung’s deep whiny voice echoed in your ear.

he raised his hips and you lowered the fabric just enough for his hard cock to slip out, the pink tip shining with his pre cum.

“suck.”

you french kissed his tip while pumping the base with both hands. no matter how many times you suck him off or he fucks you, you’d never get used to his big size. jisung was huge.

when you started sinking your mouth slowly at first, but then sinking deeper to accommodate his whole cock in your mouth, jisung cursed loudly, groaned loudly.

“fuck fuck fuck.. yeah do it just like that.” the scene being seen through your eyes was truly amazing. your boyfriend with his head thrown back, mouth wide agape while panting. big veiny hands gripping your hair in a ponytail.

saliva pooled in the corner of your mouth as you tried to suck him whole. the musky and masculine scent intoxicating your senses.

jisung kept on cursing and mumbling, “good.. princess doing so fucking good.”

one of your hands caressed his balls while the other tried to grab his entire base. cheeks hollowing with his girthy warm cock inside your mouth.

“it’s s-so big, ji.” you cried, pulling back with a string of saliva connected to his dick, tears gathered in the corner of your eyes.

jisung’s thumb touched your lips and cheeks, loving the way you’re absolutely fucked out just from sucking him off.

“i know, baby. but i also know you can take it, hm?” you looked up at him again when he tapped your lips with his tip.

you went back to business, breathing through your nose when you sucked all of him.

“you’re so beautiful.” he spat, his eyes never leaving your figure.

you felt his thighs start to tremble not much time after, “ i’m close, love. get up.” jisung softly said, groaning again when your wet mouth left his needy cock.

his cock was all wet with your spit, drooling with pre cum. he helped you crawl back again to the bed, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer, “let me finish inside you.”

thank you for the request !!!! <3