#mls is back group stage

[leejenowrld]

‘love me back?’ — two

pairing - mark lee x reader

word count - 19.4k words

genre - angst, smut, fluff, strangers to lovers, forbidden love

synopsis — during an away game weekend at a motel, tensions rise sharply between mark and jeno, exacerbated by the close quarters and competitive atmosphere. meanwhile, your connection with mark deepens significantly. amidst the growing rivalry, you and mark find solace in each other’s company, leading to a night spent alone together in the motel, further complicating the dynamics of the trip.

chapter contents/warnings — college au, small town vibes, 2000s teen show vibes, this fic is heavily based on one tree hill, explicit sexual content, explicit dirty talk, spanking, biting, breath play, consensual choking and slapping, praise kink, oral sex received. fingering, a dominant mark and submissive reader dynamic, use of endearments such as ‘baby’ and ‘good girl’, grinding!!!! they’re obsessed with it, dry grinding and dry humping, mark orders reader to strip down, but mark will only let reader remove his clothing in exchange for personal facts about the you, he wants to know about you!! big cock mark agenda, reader gets so overwhelmed and turned on by the size, yet struggling to accommodate him, it takes a few repeated attempts to get his cock fully inside of you, a display of mark’s patience and softness, he goes a lot soft dom here when he’s really a hard dom but he goes softer for you!!! explicit language, slow burn, emotional (and sexual) tension between reader and mark, basketball is a heavy theme, mark being a key player, reader struggles with communication and vulnerability, toxic sibling rivalry between jeno and mark, soft mark, emo boy mark, confident mark, understated and hot mark, competitive sports tension. mark and jeno fighting again, they kinda bond (?) but it’s slow burn and they’re gonna be very off and on, jeno is very off and on with how he acts and how genuine he is, hints of jealous karina, creepy motel vibes, oh and guess who you meet… jeno and mark’s dad!! hehe

[fic ml]

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX

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The morning sun was still hanging low in the sky, casting a pale, golden glow across the university campus. The air was cool and crisp, the kind that hinted at the early stages of fall, where the chill settled into your skin but wasn’t enough to make you uncomfortable. The campus was buzzing with a chaotic energy—players from the basketball team hauling their bags, some slung over their shoulders, others dragging them across the pavement as they exchanged jokes and playful shoves. Cheerleaders were gathered in small groups, some adjusting their ponytails while others scrolled absentmindedly through their phones, their bags packed with uniforms and pom-poms, ready for the weekend away.

Parked in the lot were two large coaches, engines humming softly, filling the air with that distinct scent of diesel and excitement. Coach Suh was already barking orders, his usual gruff tone laced with impatience as he directed the team and checked his clipboard. His assistant coaches stood nearby, chatting with some of the teachers who would be chaperoning the trip, their voices blending with the surrounding noise. The whole scene was one of anticipation—the players buzzing about the away game, the cheerleaders giggling as they gossiped, the distant sound of music filtering from someone’s speaker in the crowd.

You and Karina walked arm in arm through the bustling crowd, her voice slicing through the noise as she vented about something trivial—the usual drama, this time involving Winter. You weren’t paying much attention, your mind somewhere else. It had been a week since you and Jeno broke up, and while you told yourself you were getting over it, a tight knot of anxiety still sat heavy in your chest. A week since everything changed. A week since that kiss with Mark, a moment you couldn’t stop replaying in your head. Now, you were about to spend a whole weekend with both of them, and the thought made your nerves fray at the edges. You weren’t sure if you were ready for this.

“Rina, stop being rude,” you mumbled, barely paying attention as she continued her rant, huffing dramatically when you two bumped into Winter. Karina immediately switched gears, blowing her a playful kiss before wrapping her in a tight hug. But you were already distracted, your focus shifting as your eyes caught sight of Mark in the distance.

He was standing alone, leaning against his bag, earbuds in, completely lost in his own world. His hair was slightly tousled, messy in that careless way that always suited him, and he was wearing black glasses—ones you hadn’t seen him in before, which made something flutter faintly in your chest. The soft sunlight caught on his frame, making the whole scene look like something out of a movie.

“Hold on a sec,” you murmured, cutting Karina off mid-sentence. She looked at you, raising an eyebrow as she watched you slip away from her side, curiosity evident on her face.

You made your way over to where Mark was standing, weaving through the scattered clusters of students, your heart thudding slightly harder in your chest. He hadn’t noticed you yet, his music too loud, and his eyes half-closed, like he was lost in thought.

“Mark,” you said, raising your voice slightly as you gave him a gentle tap on the shoulder.

He blinked, startled out of his reverie, and when he turned around, a small, soft smile immediately graced his lips. He pulled one earbud out, his eyes brightening at the sight of you. “Hey,” he greeted casually, as though it hadn’t been a week since you last spoke. As if that kiss had never happened.

“Hey,” you echoed, feeling suddenly awkward. Your fingers fidgeted with the strap of your bag as you searched for the right words. “Um, I just wanted to thank you, you know… for that night. It—it really meant a lot.”

His smile widened a fraction, but he didn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue. With slightly trembling fingers, you reached into your bag and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped package—a record you had made just for him. The case was simple, but you had taken the time to customize it—his name written in a looping script across the front, surrounded by small doodles of guitars and basketballs. You had put more effort into it than you’d ever admit, each stroke of ink a small way of thanking him without having to say the words.

Mark’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, his lips parting slightly as he took the package from you, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment. “Does this mean we’re dating now?” he teased, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he examined the record.

Your cheeks flushed immediately. “No,” you mumbled, trying to keep your cool. “I just had a lot of free time, and you have a long journey ahead, so… don’t read too much into it.”

But Mark wasn’t buying it, his smirk only deepening as he glanced back up at you. “Sure. Free time.”

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Jeno standing near one of the other coaches, deep in conversation with one of his and Mark’s mutual friends. They were laughing about something, completely oblivious to you and Mark’s interaction, and yet, the sight of him still made your stomach flip in that uncomfortable way it had been doing for the past week.

Mark noticed your distraction but didn’t say anything. He just tucked the record into his bag with a quiet, “Thanks, Y/N,” before offering you a soft, genuine smile.

You gave him a small nod, a sense of relief washing over you, but before you could say anything else, Karina’s voice rang out from across the lot, calling your name.

“I should go,” you said quickly, backing away a few steps. “See you on the bus.”

Mark waved, popping his earbud back in as he leaned against his bag again, slipping back into his own world as if nothing had happened. But you couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted, something small and unspoken, lingering in the space between you.

When you returned to Karina’s side, she was giving you a look that was half suspicion, half curiosity. “What was that?” she asked, her voice dripping with intrigue.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, though the heat rising to your cheeks probably gave you away. “Just thanked him for something.”

Karina’s eyes narrowed, a knowing smirk tugging at the edges of her lips. “You don’t like him, do you?”

“Karina, stop overreacting,” you muttered, trying to brush her off, but you could feel her gaze piercing into you.

“Good,” she said, with a casual shrug. “Because I still wanna have sex with him.”

Your heart lurched, and you tried to keep your expression neutral. “Okay,” you said, voice steady, though your mind was spinning. You couldn’t judge her—not when you felt the same. But there was no way you were going to tell her about the kiss. That would only lead to more problems.

The two of you finally boarded the bus, finding your seats among the other cheerleaders and players. As you settled in, you let out a small sigh, the weight of the day’s tension settling on your shoulders. It was going to be a long weekend. You could feel it in the air. But as the bus started moving, the sound of the engine humming beneath you, you couldn’t help but wonder—what was going to happen between you, Mark, and Jeno? The tension between all three of you was still there, unresolved, waiting to bubble over.

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The gym buzzed with life, the clamor of shoes squeaking against the polished wooden floor, the rhythmic bounce of basketballs, and the murmur of the audience creating a palpable energy. It felt like the air was thick with anticipation, the overhead fluorescent lights harsh and bright, casting long shadows on the floor as the two teams warmed up. The scent of sweat and rubber mingled with the faint aroma of cheap popcorn from the concession stands. On the far side, the home bleachers were packed with students, most clad in blue jerseys, their school colors proudly worn across their bodies like armor. The cheerleaders were stationed by the sidelines, their outfits hugging their curves, shimmering pom-poms ready in hand.

You were in the thick of it, standing with Karina at the edge of the court, arms raised with your pom-poms, shaking them rhythmically as you moved through the choreographed routines. Your cheerleading uniform was snug, the blue pleats of your skirt fluttering as you danced, and your crop top clung to your skin, showing just enough midriff to catch the eyes of anyone paying attention. The crowd was electric, and the boys were on fire tonight, especially Mark and Jeno—though they were in their own worlds, not even acknowledging each other.

Karina’s voice, hushed yet teasing, pulled you from the daze of the game. “Oh my God, Mark looks so hot in blue. We should both fuck him.”

You choked on a laugh, whipping your head toward her. “We?”

“Yeah, at the same time. Threesome.” She shrugged like it was the most natural suggestion in the world.

“Please, shut up,” you hissed through a grin, unable to suppress the giggle bubbling at your throat. You shook your pom-poms in sync with the rest of the girls, trying to keep your focus on the game, but Karina’s persistent teasing kept your mind elsewhere.

“What? You need a little rebound action unless—” Her voice dropped, her gaze flicking toward the court where Jeno sprinted past. “Unless you’re still into Jeno.”

“I’m not,” you answered quickly, too quickly, as your eyes slid to where Jeno was dominating the court. His jersey, drenched with sweat, clung to his body, showcasing every muscle, every ripple of his toned arms and chest. His biceps flexed as he dribbled, every move calculated and strong, and there was no denying he looked good tonight. But that’s all it was—an attraction. Purely physical. The sexual chemistry between you two had been undeniable, but it was never enough to keep you together. The connection was shallow. You both knew it, and yet, the ache of desire was still there.

“Good,” Karina smirked, satisfied with your response. “Because you’re my best friend, and I love you. You get a courtesy hold on Mark for the weekend, but after that, he’s fair game.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. Karina had been there for you through everything, especially after the breakup. She knew how to make light of everything, how to push you to move on even when you didn’t want to.

As the game unfolded, you spotted Jeno and Mark’s best friend sitting in the bleachers, her posture shy and reserved. She had that doe-eyed, innocent look about her, with her small frame tucked into an oversized hoodie, eyes wide as she watched the boys play. She seemed out of place here, her innocence a stark contrast to the intensity of the game.

“What’s the story with that one anyway?” Karina asked, her eyes zeroed in on the girl.

You shrugged, not looking away from the court. “Jeno said she’s tutoring him.”

“And hanging out with Mark?” Karina’s eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“They’ve been best friends since they were kids, right?” you replied, though the bitterness in your voice was hard to miss. You had asked Mark once, point-blank, if there was anything more than friendship between them. He had laughed, like the idea was so ridiculous it didn’t even deserve a serious response. She’s like a sister, he’d said.

Karina leaned in, whispering like she was sharing the juiciest gossip. “Right. And we’re supposed to believe she’s just friends with both of them?”

“She doesn’t seem like a troublemaker,” you murmured, though even you weren’t convinced by your own words.

Karina’s gasp made your head snap toward her. “Did you just see that? Jeno gave her the nod.”

You frowned, feeling your stomach twist. “What nod?”

“The ‘let’s hook up after the game’ nod,” Karina explained, her eyes wide in disbelief.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Karina, you’re reading too much into things.”

Karina crossed her arms, smirking knowingly. “You wanna know what I think? I think Jeno likes tutor girl. I think tutor girl likes Mark. And I know I like Mark. And I don’t even know who the hell you like anymore.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, though the whole thing was spiraling into a mess you didn’t even know how to untangle.

Back on the court, Donghyuck’s voice crackled through the speaker system, narrating the game with his usual laid-back flair. “Ravens have a big lead early in the second quarter,” he announced, his eyes tracking every movement with a casual ease.

Jeno charged down the court, eyes locked on the basket, but his speed got the better of him. As he tried to weave past an opponent, he slammed into him with his shoulder, sending the opposing player sprawling onto the floor. The referee’s whistle pierced through the noise.

“That’s a foul on Jeno Lee,” Donghyuck’s voice rang through the speakers, cutting through the tension in the gym.

Mark, nearby, groaned in exasperation, shaking his head. “Seriously, man? You’re costing us the game,” he muttered, though loud enough for Jeno to hear.

Jeno spun around, eyes blazing with anger. “Mind your own business,” 

Mark’s smirk only widened as he crossed his arms. “Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t realise we were here to watch you fuck up.” He raised a brow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe if you could actually control your temper, we’d be winning by more.”

Jeno stepped closer, his jaw clenched tight. “How about you shut your mouth before I make you.”

Mark shrugged, not backing down. “Why don’t I beat your ass right here and save us the trouble?”

The tension between them was palpable, their rivalry burning hotter by the second. Even though they were on the same team, they were playing like they were enemies, completely isolated in their own games. Jeno refused to pass the ball to Mark, and Mark ignored Jeno’s open plays, yet somehow, the team was still leading. It was a miracle they were winning at all.

Then came Mark’s turn for a foul. He was dribbling down the court, eyes locked on the basket, when he made an overly ambitious attempt at a crossover. His footwork got tangled, and in an awkward stumble, he ended up traveling—taking one too many steps before the ball left his hands.

The referee’s whistle blew sharply. “Traveling violation on Mark Lee!” Donghyuck announced, the crowd groaning in response.

Jeno, quick to pounce on any mistake, smirked. “Nice one, genius. You forget how to dribble?”

Mark shot him a venomous look, his frustration simmering. “Why don’t you try shutting the hell up?”

The game continued, but the tension between them was only escalating. You saw Jeno glance toward Mark’s best friend in the bleachers, her face bored as she gazed around, barely paying attention.

“Hey, she’s looking pretty fine tonight, right?” Jeno smirked, leaning toward Mark just enough for him to hear. “Can’t wait to get with that after the game.”

Mark’s face twisted with anger, the tension between him and Jeno reaching a boiling point. He shot a glance at you, his voice low but cutting, every word laced with venom. “Caught Jeno in the locker room earlier… guess I finally figured out why you left him.”

The implication hung heavy in the air, unspoken but obvious. The cheerleaders beside you snickered softly, exchanging knowing glances. You widen your eyes in disbelief, a flush creeping up your neck as you process his words. It wasn’t just a jab at Jeno—it was personal, and everyone around could feel it.

Jeno’s face contorted with pure rage, his eyes narrowing as the tension finally snapped. Without hesitation, he hurled the basketball straight at Mark’s head, the thud of impact echoing through the gym. In that split second, the air shifted, thick with hostility, and everything spiraled out of control.

The next thing you knew, they were on each other, fists flying as the audience gasped in shock. Mark shoved Jeno hard, sending him stumbling back. Jeno’s momentum carried him into Karina, who was caught off guard and stumbled back, screaming as she fell to the ground.

But Jeno wasn’t backing down. He regained his balance quickly, grabbed Mark by the collar, and yanked him forward, slamming his fist into Mark’s stomach.

The players on the court rushed in, trying to pull them apart, but they were relentless. Every punch, every shove, was filled with weeks, maybe months, of pent-up frustration. As they tussled, Karina, still on the floor, tried to recover, her face etched with pain and confusion.

Coach Suh stormed onto the court, his face red with anger as he bellowed orders. “What the hell is going on?!”

The referee blew his whistle, his voice barely cutting through the chaos. “That’s it, both of you are out!”

“You’re throwing them both out of the game?!” Coach Suh shouted, barely able to contain his rage.

“I have to, Coach,” the referee yelled back. “Punches were thrown.”

“They’re both on the same team!” Coach Suh screamed, his frustration palpable.

The whole gym was a mess—cheerleaders trying to calm the crowd, players separating the two brothers, Coach Suh losing his mind on the sidelines. You couldn’t believe how quickly things had spiraled out of control.

You rushed over to Karina, helping her up from where she lay on the gym floor. “Are you okay?” you asked, concerned.

She clutched her head, wincing in pain. “Ow, pain,” she muttered, rubbing her temple.

And as you looked back at Mark and Jeno, both of them being escorted off the court, you couldn’t help but wonder how this was all going to end.

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The bus rattles down the dark country road, headlights cutting through the shadows as the low hum of the engine mingles with the tired murmurs of the team. The cheerleaders sit scattered across seats, throwing occasional wary glances at Coach Suh, who stands at the front of the coach, face set like stone, eyes boring into the back of everyone’s heads. The tension is thick, even those uninvolved feel the simmering anger rolling off him, spreading like wildfire. But the main culprits sit slouched in the back, sullen and unrepentant.

“Mark Lee, Jeno Lee. On your feet.”

The entire bus goes silent. Jeno rolls his eyes, but he stands, fixing a casual scowl on his face. Mark follows suit, his jaw tight, as if bracing for a hit. Coach Suh steps closer, his gaze narrowing on the two of them, nostrils flaring.

“Congratulations, boys. In all my years coaching, this has got to be a low point.” His words land like blows, the weight of disappointment dripping from each syllable. “That little stunt you pulled almost cost us our undefeated record.”

He pauses, arms crossed, eyes flicking between the two. “I don’t give a damn about your issues with your daddy, your girlfriends, or whatever garbage you’re both dragging out here. As far as I’m concerned, you can hate each other until hell freezes over, but if you’re gonna play on my team, you’re gonna learn how to work together.”

Jeno scoffs, crossing his arms. “I can’t see that happening, Suh.”

Coach Suh’s face hardens, a dangerous glint in his eye. “Yeah? Well, you’ve got thirty miles to figure it out.” Without another word, he jerks his thumb toward the door. “Get off my bus.”

The two barely have a moment to process before Coach is barking orders to the driver. They’re pushed off the bus, stumbling onto the gravel shoulder as the bus door slams shut. Exhaust fumes fill the air as the coach pulls away, taillights fading in the distance, leaving them stranded under a starlit sky.

“They can’t just leave us here,” Jeno mutters, a mixture of disbelief and anger flashing in his eyes.

Mark sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets as he glances down the dark, empty road stretching ahead. “Nice work, idiot.”

Jeno’s gaze snaps toward him, eyes narrowing. “Calm down.”

“You calm down. My phone’s on that bus.”

Mark shakes his head, glancing back at the road as if it might magically bring the bus back. “My wallet’s on that bus, too.”

“Mine too,” Jeno mutters.

The silence stretches between them, punctuated only by the distant rustling of trees in the wind and the steady chirp of crickets. They both realize the absurdity of it — left with nothing but each other on an empty road, thirty miles from any sign of life.

Jeno breaks the silence with a frustrated groan. “What the hell do we do now?”

Mark glances down the road, kicking at the gravel under his feet. “We start walking.”

The night air is chilly, and the silence between them grows colder. They walk side by side, their footsteps crunching on the gravel, neither willing to break the silence until the irritation bubbles over, each resentful glance in the other’s direction building until it finally snaps.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you never joined the team,” Jeno hisses, his voice carrying through the empty night like a challenge.

Mark’s fists clench at his sides, but he keeps his voice low, controlled. “No, we wouldn’t be out here if you weren’t such a jackass about me joining the team.”

Jeno scoffs, turning to face him. “Why do you want my life so bad, anyway?”

Mark stops, looking at him dead-on. “This again? Dude, don’t flatter yourself. You’re the last person I’d wanna trade places with.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jeno’s voice is harsh, his words fueled by a bitterness that runs deep. “All I know is that you came out of nowhere and started grabbing everything you could from me. My game, my girl.” His voice cracks, a flash of vulnerability slipping through before he regains his composure. “Sounds like a broken record, right?”

Mark’s lips curl into a smirk, his eyes glinting in the low light as he shoots back, “Your girl? Last I checked, she dumped your stupid ass.”

Jeno’s jaw tightens, but he scoffs, brushing it off with a roll of his eyes. “I actually dumped her, but—”

Before he can finish, Mark steps closer, his expression darkening, his voice deadly calm. “Watch it.”

They stand there, silence stretching between them, eyes locked in an unspoken challenge. Mark’s mind flashes with memories he’d buried, moments that flood his thoughts with a guilty thrill. He wonders if Jeno has any idea what happened after Jeno walked away from you, the way you gravitated toward Mark, the way you sought him out with a lingering gaze, lips parted, words barely needing to be said.

And Mark wonders what Jeno would do if he knew how you clung to him that night, how your fingers traced his skin, how your breath hitched every time he touched you. If he knew the things you whispered in the dark, the way you looked at him with need, the way you wanted him — wanted to fuck him so badly, a fire in your eyes that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with desire.

The thought stirs something in Mark, a dangerous satisfaction.

Mark’s gaze softens, but there’s an edge to it, as if he’s finally had enough. “Well, what about you?” he shoots back, voice laced with bitterness. “I bet your grades sucked before you met me.”

Jeno’s face contorts, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Who said all me and her got is about grades?”

Mark studies Jeno’s face for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He hesitates, choosing his words carefully, knowing exactly how to hit where it matters without overstepping.

“You ever think about why people put up with you?” Mark says, his tone softer, almost casual, but there’s an edge. “Like my best friend… I don’t know what’s going on between you two but she’s been in your corner even when you don’t make it easy. And you don’t even seem to notice.”

Jeno’s face hardens, his defensiveness flaring up. “Last time I checked, it’s none of your fucking business,” he snaps.

Mark chuckles dryly, shaking his head. “Friends don’t have to keep sticking around, Jeno. She doesn’t have to. You act like people are just gonna stay no matter what, like she’ll always be there for you.” He lets the silence settle, watching Jeno’s reaction. “But even she’s gonna reach her limit eventually.”

Jeno’s jaw tenses, brushing it off. “She won’t..”

Mark just sighs, his gaze shifting down the road. “Just don’t be surprised if one day she’s not waiting around for you to get your act together. She’s got her own life, her own choices.” He glances at Jeno, a hint of something in his eyes Jeno doesn’t quite catch. “And maybe she’s already realizing that.”

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The sterile chill of the doctor’s office settles over you as you sit beside Karina, who winces each time she moves her ankle. The rest of the team is back at the motel, locked down under a strict curfew after Coach Suh’s fury over Mark and Jeno’s latest stunt. Somehow, though, he made an exception for you to accompany Karina here, her ankle too swollen and painful to ignore.

Karina shifts on the examination table, sucking in a sharp breath as the doctor carefully assesses the injury, then begins wrapping her ankle in a firm bandage. She bites her lip, eyelids fluttering as she watches him intently, a coy smile playing on her lips. You frown, noticing her glancing up at him with a softness in her eyes that feels oddly out of place. He isn’t even that attractive, you think, confused by her sudden flirtation.

“Don’t worry, doctor,” she says with a playful tilt of her head, voice honeyed. “I’m in good hands, aren’t I?”

You’re about to say something, feeling the strangeness of it all, when the doctor reaches into his drawer, pulling out a small bottle of painkillers. “Here, take one of these now,” he says, handing her a pill, “and just half of one every twelve hours. Don’t take too many at once—”

Karina pops three of them into her mouth, swallowing them with a quick, mischievous grin. “Oops,” she giggles, leaning back with a sigh as if this is all part of the plan.

And in a flash, it clicks — the batting eyelashes, the sugary smile, the subtle brush of her fingers against his hand. She’s not flirting with him for his attention. She’s trying to score extra meds. You watch in astonishment as she tilts her head, feigning another innocent look. “Doctor, do you think I could maybe… have a few more? You know, just in case the pain gets really bad later?”

The doctor hesitates, clearly charmed, and reluctantly hands over a few extra pills. Karina’s eyes glint with satisfaction, tucking the extra pills into her bag as she gives him one last, grateful smile.

As you help Karina hobble out, she’s clutching your arm, her eyes glassy and far too animated. She’s practically bouncing as you guide her down the hallway.

Outside, as you’re about to help her into the car, you notice a familiar face near the entrance. Mark’s best friend stands there, looking caught off guard, her eyes widening as if she’s been caught red-handed.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, a mixture of surprise and suspicion in your voice.

“Oh, I was just… exploring the area,” she says, her voice wavering slightly as she tries to sound casual.

You laugh, shaking your head. “We’re at a doctor’s office.”

She bites her lip, looking away with a sheepish smile. “Yeah, well… I wanted to see it, okay?”

You roll your eyes. “Right. Totally makes sense.”

Karina, meanwhile, is swaying on her feet, her arm still looped through yours, a dazed smile on her face. “We should totally hang out more often, what’s your name?”

The girl says her name, but Karina waves her hand dismissively. “I’m gonna call you ‘Rina’. I don’t like your name.”

The girl looks between the two of you, unsure if she should laugh or be offended. “Thanks… I guess.”

You chuckle, exasperated but amused, as Karina starts humming a random tune under her breath. “C’mon, Karina, let’s get you to the car.”

As you help Karina toward the car, she pauses, glancing back at Mark’s best friend with wide, pleading eyes. “Wait! Y/N, can she come with us?”

You raise an eyebrow, giving her a questioning look. She hesitates, clearing her throat. “I already got a ride back to the motel.”

You sigh, a small, amused smile playing at your lips. “What, the bus? The last one just left a few minutes ago. And you wanna go by public transport at this time of night? In an unknown and dark area?”

She falters, glancing down the empty road, clearly rethinking her plan. Meanwhile, Karina lights up, a grin stretching across her face as if it’s all settled. “Perfect!, you’re coming with us!” she declares, already pulling her toward the back seat.

You can’t help but roll your eyes as they both settle in, Karina giggling and leaning close to her. As soon as you start the car, Karina’s hand darts forward, reaching for the radio.

“Don’t touch the radio, or we’ll have a problem,” you warn, catching her eye in the rearview mirror.

But she’s already twisting the dial, landing on a random station and singing along, loud and out of tune. Mark’s best friend glances at you with a half-smile, half-grimace, clearly unsure of what she’s gotten herself into.

“Don’t worry,” you reassure her with a quick look back. “She’ll be fine once she sleeps it off.”

Karina, oblivious to the cautious energy in the car, leans over, grabbing her friend’s hand with wide, adoring eyes. “You’re my favorite, Rina. We’re gonna be best friends forever,” she slurs with a giggle, still believing her name was ‘Rina.’ 

You stifle a laugh as you pull out onto the road, realising it’s going to be a long, strange ride back to the motel.

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The quiet hum of the car blends with Karina’s off-key singing, her hand fiddling with the radio as you drive along the deserted road. The night stretches on outside the car windows, fields bathed in moonlight, the road a dark ribbon cutting through the countryside. Mark’s best friend sits beside Karina, offering an amused glance every now and then, though you can tell she’s half-wishing she’d chosen a different ride back to the motel. You stifle a smile at the absurdity of it all.

The journey’s been quiet for a while now, with Karina’s singing slowing to a soft hum as she leans against the window, eyelids heavy, barely holding onto her high. You’re halfway back, another hour to go, when a movement on the roadside catches your attention. Two figures, barely illuminated by your headlights, are trudging along the shoulder, looking like they’ve been through hell. Squinting, you realise it’s Jeno and Mark, walking side by side, both looking rough and dishevelled. Seriously, did they spend the whole time hitting each other?

You slow down and pull over, giving a quick beep to catch their attention. The boys look up, relief flashing across their faces as they recognize you. But as you look closer, confusion knots in your stomach; they don’t seem like they’re fighting, but they’re covered in marks and bruises, a testament to some kind of ordeal. They approach the car, Jeno with tired eyes and Mark with a weary, yet satisfied look.

You arch an eyebrow, eyeing the two of them, your voice laced with incredulity. “Do I even wanna know what happened?”

Jeno and Mark exchange glances, and without a word of protest, they begin to explain. It starts with them walking back, still stewing in anger from being thrown off the bus. Then, a group of players from the opposing team spotted them and pulled over, offering Jeno a ride. Despite the uneasy feeling in the air, Jeno’s pride wouldn’t let him turn it down, even when Mark, sensing trouble, warned him against it. But Jeno got in anyway, throwing Mark a smug look that all but dared him to follow. Mark, unwilling to leave his brother alone, reluctantly climbed in.

The ride took a turn, just as Mark had feared. The opposing players started messing with them, egging them on with taunts and jeers until they forced Jeno and Mark to strip down to their boxers. Humiliation simmered in Jeno’s eyes, his fists clenched tight, but Mark kept his cool, his mind spinning for a way out. It was then that the players offered a sick deal: they’d leave them alone if the brothers fought each other.

With no other option, Jeno and Mark put on a show, faking punches and grappling. But as they moved, Mark managed to swipe the car keys from one of the guys’ pockets. It was the first time they’d worked together as a team, their silent coordination kicking in out of pure desperation. When the brawl seemed convincing enough, they seized their chance, racing to the car, only to find it stuck in the mud. Swearing under their breath, they abandoned it and took off on foot, laughing despite the absurdity of it all, still bickering, but now with a hint of shared respect.

Listening to their tale, you can’t help but shake your head, a small smile playing on your lips. There’s tension still simmering between them, unspoken words and unresolved resentment hanging heavy in the air. But this, this was a start. It was far too early to think all their issues could be resolved in one night, but maybe — just for tonight — you could all ignore the conflict, let it slip away, and pretend things were fine.

“Coach Suh and his tactics really work,” you muse, half in astonishment, as you look between them when the traffic lights flash red. You catch a rare moment of calm in their expressions, Mark’s gaze softened, Jeno’s cocky mask quietq just slightly as he leans back, arms crossed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Mark’s best friend with a small smirk, the corner of her lips quirking upward. Huh. What was that about? She’s usually quiet, but there’s something in her look that suggests she knows more than she’s letting on. It’s always the quiet ones, you think, a sense of curiosity stirring.

As you pull away from the stop, a thought crosses your mind — could she have had something to do with this? With Jeno’s sudden willingness to give Mark even a sliver of slack? The ride back stretches on, filled with a strange mixture of silence and soft laughter, the beginnings of an unexpected truce lingering in the air. 

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The motel looms in the dim glow of your car’s headlights as you pull into the cracked, uneven parking lot. A few lights flicker weakly along the exterior, casting pale, yellow circles on the worn asphalt, barely enough to pierce through the night. The building itself is modest, cloaked in an air of neglect, with faded paint peeling from the wood and shadows thickening in the crevices around the doors and windows. The faint hum of buzzing neon letters above the entrance spells out “Vacancy,” the ‘V’ occasionally blinking, as if it’s uncertain about its own existence.

Jeno’s voice breaks the silence as he turns to you, hands casually stuffed in his pockets. “Hey, me and the guys are gonna go partying. You wanna come?” He raises an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to Mark for a split second before landing back on you, a hint of mischief in his smile.

You shake your head, laughing softly. “I’m really tired. I think I’ll call it a night. You enjoy yourself, though. I don’t know how you have so much energy after all that happened today.”

Jeno just shrugs, his smile widening. “Suit yourself.”

“I wanna come!” Karina chimes in, bouncing over to Jeno and slinging an arm around his shoulders with such force that he nearly stumbles, catching her with a chuckle. He slips an arm around her back, steadying her, and they both look over at Mark’s best friend, asking if she wants to tag along 

She laughs, shaking her head in amusement. “Fuck it, fine, I’ll go too. Why not?”

Jeno’s gaze drifts back to you, a final question in his eyes. “You sure you don’t want to come, Y/N?”

You smile, shaking your head once more. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

With a shrug, he gives you a warm smile. “Alright, then. Good night.” He gives Mark a small nod, and then the three of them disappear into the shadows of the parking lot, their laughter echoing softly as they head toward the distant thrum of the party.

The night settles around you, the silence deepening. You turn to Mark, who lingers by your side, his presence grounding you in the quiet. He’s watching you, his gaze thoughtful, steady, as if waiting.

The doors to the motel swing open, revealing a dimly lit hallway that stretches out in both directions, lined with faded floral wallpaper and scuffed wooden trim. The smell is a mix of old wood, dust, and something faintly sweet, like the lingering remnants of perfume, as if echoes of past guests have left traces of themselves here, woven into the fabric of the place.

You walk in silence, each footstep softened by the thin, worn carpet, every sound amplified in the otherwise quiet space. The tension between you hums, tangible and charged, filling the stillness with an unspoken understanding that neither of you seems willing to break.

You reach the start of the long hallway, the shadows deepening around you. There, you both come to a natural stop, instinctively turning to face each other. The faint glow from the flickering bulbs above casts soft light across his face, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the warmth in his eyes as he looks down at you. For a moment, neither of you speaks, standing there, so close yet so unsure, the silence thickening as you both search for something to say.

Your mouth parts slightly, words hovering on the edge, but they refuse to come. His gaze holds yours, unwavering, his lips parting just a fraction, mirroring your own silent question, as if he’s also lost in the space between you, not knowing where to begin. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, a softness that catches you off guard, and you feel the weight of it, heavy and warm, settling in your chest.

Finally, he clears his throat, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “I’ll walk you to your room, this place is so creepy.” He says, the words quiet but steady.

You nod, your breath catching, feeling the warmth of his offer seep into your skin, grounding you. “Yeah… I’d like that, it’s such a dark hallway, it’s so scary.” You murmur, your voice soft, barely breaking the silence, and together, you begin to walk down the dim hallway, your footsteps falling into a quiet rhythm, side by side, close enough to feel each other’s presence, every step heightening the anticipation that hangs between you.

“Let’s go,” he says softly, his voice steady yet gentle, and it pulls you out of the moment, grounding you.

As you walk, Mark stays close by your side, his presence warm and solid in the dimness. You’re embarrassed by the way your hand brushes against his arm, how you instinctively lean just a little closer than necessary, as if his nearness alone can fend off the eerie stillness of the hallway. Your heart pounds louder than you’d like, each beat reminding you how aware you are of him, of every detail — the quiet confidence in his stride, the way his eyes scan the corridor, protective but at ease.

The hallway stretches ahead, narrowing into shadows at the far end, every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet making the silence feel heavier. The motel feels frozen in time, suspended in an atmosphere thick with the ghosts of other people’s stories. Faint, peeling paintings line the walls, barely visible in the dim light, their subjects obscured by layers of dust and age. Mark’s gaze moves from one faded frame to the next, a quiet curiosity in his eyes, as if he’s absorbing every detail, noticing things even you missed.

When you finally reach your room, you fumble with the key, your hands inexplicably shaky, and feel a rush of relief as the door swings open. The room is small, modest, barely illuminated by the single bedside lamp casting a soft, amber glow over the space. The beds are narrow, pushed against opposite walls, their sheets clean but worn, edges frayed, as if they’ve seen countless nights. The carpet is thin, faded in patches, and the heavy drapes by the window barely keep out the dim streetlight filtering in from outside.

You turn to Mark, who stands in the doorway, his gaze moving over the room before landing back on you. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something that makes your heart pound a little faster, a warmth that lingers between you in the quiet.

“You can stay… if you want. Karina won’t be back anytime soon, so we could just… hang out,” you murmur, your voice soft, barely above a whisper, feeling the weight of the invitation hanging in the air.

Mark stands there, just inside the doorway, his gaze steady on you, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. Instead, a small, gentle smile tugs at his lips, and he raises an eyebrow slightly, letting the words hang between you. “‘Hang out?’” he repeats softly, as though he’s testing the phrase.

You feel your cheeks heat up, the way he says it makes the words feel bolder, more vulnerable than you intended. You swallow, nodding, and barely manage to whisper, “Yes.”

He steps further inside, closing the door gently behind him, the quiet click of the lock making your heart pound a little harder. “I’d like that,” he says, his voice warm, carrying a softness that makes the air around you feel charged, close, as though even the walls of the room are holding their breath.

You gesture toward the room with a nervous laugh, trying to ease the tension settling between you. “Oh, by the way… there’s two beds,” you say, your voice soft, almost playful, as if pointing it out might somehow make the moment feel less charged, less intimate.

His eyes follow where you’re pointing, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he glances from one bed to the other, then back to you. The look in his eyes is knowing, almost amused, but he doesn’t say anything, letting the words linger, a silent acknowledgment of the thin veil of casualness you’re both holding onto.

You settle onto the edge of your bed, pulling out your sketchbook, pencils, camera, and laptop, thinking you might take this quiet moment to finish some assignments. Mark moves toward the other bed, but his eyes remain on you, an intensity in his gaze that you can feel even as you focus on your work, earbuds in, trying to ground yourself in the familiar tasks.

You’re so lost in your own world that you don’t notice him move until he gently tugs one earbud out, his fingers brushing your ear softly. You glance up, startled, and find him close, his face inches from yours, a soft amusement in his gaze.

“You’re working? Now?” he whispers, his voice low, carrying a warmth that pulls at something deep inside you.

“Mm-hm,” you manage, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his steady gaze. “It… it needs to get done.”

He watches you for a moment, a quiet curiosity in his eyes, then offers, “Can I help? I’m not really tired.”

You smile, nodding as you pat the empty space beside you. “You can just… sit here. Keep me company.” Your heart races as he settles beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight, pulling you both closer together.

The proximity is overwhelming, his warmth seeping through the space between you, grounding and intoxicating at the same time. You can feel the subtle brush of his arm against yours. The scent of him, soft peaches, lingers in the air, and each detail heightens your awareness of him, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

The silence between you stretches, his eyes holding yours as his hand reaches out, fingers brushing softly against your wrist. He slides the hair tie from your hand, his touch deliberate, steady, igniting a tingling warmth that spreads through you.

Without a word, he gathers your hair gently, his fingers working it into a loose, careful hold, his movements precise yet tender. The way he pulls the tie over your hair feels intimate, his fingers grazing your neck, sending a shiver down your spine as he finishes, his hand lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Thank—thank you,” you manage, voice barely above a whisper, feeling an inexplicable rush of warmth at the simple, quiet closeness of the moment.

He smiles, his gaze tracing over you, lingering on the way your hair falls loosely around your shoulders. “You look… different with your hair up,” he murmurs, his eyes dipping to your neck. “You should wear it like that more often.”

You try to respond, but your words stumble over each other, caught in the quiet storm of his attention. “I… I usually… thank you,” you manage, feeling the heat bloom across your cheeks, acutely aware of how vulnerable you feel under his gaze.

It’s strange, feeling so affected by him. You’ve always been the one in control, the one who never falters, but here, in this quiet, dimly lit room, it’s as if he has stripped away every layer, leaving you open, raw, trembling with a mixture of anticipation and curiosity.

“So,” he says, his voice breaking the silence, smooth and warm, “what do you need help with?”

He looks down at your camera, piecing together your intentions with a quiet, knowing smile, and you find yourself blurting out, “Can I… take some photos of you? For one of my projects?”

He holds your gaze, nodding slowly. “Yes,” he answers, his voice steady, unhesitating, as if he’s saying yes to more than just the photos.

You stand, adjusting the lighting, switching off the main lights and leaving only the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting warm shadows across the room. The light caresses his features, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the soft curve of his lips, the quiet strength in his posture. It feels like he belongs here, in this softened light, like he’s made for this moment, this intimacy.

You lift the camera, heart pounding as you look through the lens, capturing the way his eyes follow you, calm and steady, a hint of curiosity flickering in their depths. He’s not just a subject; he’s something real, something grounding, something that makes your breath catch with every click of the shutter.

Zooming in closer, you focus on the details — the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheek, the hint of stubble along his jaw, the relaxed curve of his lips. You feel your pulse quicken, each shot a quiet revelation, a piece of him you’re allowed to see, a vulnerability he’s offering willingly.

“Come closer,” he murmurs, his voice a gentle command, pulling you deeper into the moment. You step closer, the distance between you disappearing, and he leans back, spreading his arms casually along the headboard, letting his head fall back slightly, exposing the soft line of his neck. It’s an invitation, a silent offering, and you capture it, feeling your heart stutter with every shot.

At one point, he reaches out, fingers brushing the lens, then your hand, his touch light but grounding, making your hands tremble. His eyes meet yours, his voice soft, almost reverent. “Can I see what you’ve taken?”

You flip the camera around, showing him, and he studies each shot, his gaze intense, thoughtful, a quiet pride flickering in his eyes. “These are… they’re really good,” he says, his voice laced with something deeper, something that feels like admiration

Your cheeks flush, and you look away, stammering, “It’s… it’s nothing. Just… I mean, it’s easy to get good shots when—” You stop, feeling the words catch in your throat, the compliment feeling almost too much to say aloud.

Mark’s gaze softens as he watches you, a quiet, understanding smile spreading across his face. “When?” he prompts, leaning in slightly, his voice coaxing but gentle, waiting patiently for you to finish.

You hesitate, feeling your heart race, before managing, “When the person in front of the camera… makes it easy.” The words are quiet, barely more than a whisper, but he hears them, his eyes darkening just a bit, a flicker of something deeper passing over his face.

He doesn’t look away. Instead, he reaches out again, fingertips brushing lightly along the side of the camera, his touch grazing yours. “You know, you should give yourself more credit for how gifted you are. You have a real eye for photography and capturing the scene, I just wish you’d realise that,” he murmurs, a note of awe in his voice. “It’s like you capture more than just what’s in front of you.” His hand finds yours, fingers wrapping around yours gently, grounding and intimate.

The silence that settles around you is thick with unspoken understanding, a closeness that feels as though it’s been building since the moment you stepped into the room. He lowers his hand but keeps his gaze on you, his eyes soft, searching. The air between you grows still, and you’re aware of every breath, every slight shift in the mattress beneath you, the scent of him lingering around you, warm and inviting.

It feels like he’s going to kiss you, but instead, he breaks the moment with a small grin, tilting his head as he looks at you. He reaches for the camera in your hands, fingers brushing yours as he takes it.

“Your turn,” he says, his voice warm, coaxing. “Let me take a few of you.”

You hesitate, glancing at the camera and then back at him, unsure, feeling the flush deepen in your cheeks. But he just smiles, steady and reassuring. “I want to see you… as you are,” he murmurs, his tone genuine, his gaze holding an invitation you can’t quite resist.

He shifts closer, his hand gently guiding your shoulders back, adjusting your posture with a care that’s both comforting and intimate. “Here… just relax,” he says softly, his fingers lingering briefly on your shoulder before moving to rest gently on your waist, positioning you as he wants. You feel a warmth radiate from his touch, a grounding sensation that makes it hard to breathe steadily.

“Relax,” he says again, his voice low, soothing, his gaze focused on you as if you’re the only thing in the room. “Just be yourself. That’s all I’m asking.” His fingers adjust the angle of your arm, his thumb brushing along your wrist as he guides you into a natural, comfortable pose. The intensity in his gaze makes you feel like he’s peeling back every layer, seeing something raw and true beneath your surface.

He lifts the camera, snapping a few shots, his focus unwavering. “That’s perfect,” he murmurs, his eyes flicking from the viewfinder to you, his smile soft, encouraging. “Just like that.” There’s a quiet reverence in his tone, as if he’s in awe, like he’s seeing you in a way no one else ever has.

You shift, self-conscious, and he moves even closer, reaching out to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering at your temple. “You don’t have to hold back,” he says, voice low and close. “Just let go, Y/N. It’s only me.” His words sink in, their honesty disarming, making you feel safe, and you can’t help but let a small smile break through, the tension in your shoulders easing.

Mark smiles, his voice soft as he captures another shot. “See? You’re beautiful, exactly as you are,” he says, the words genuine, quiet, like he’s saying them more to himself than to you. His hand finds your shoulder again, his thumb brushing in a light, comforting circle as he adjusts the angle, his touch steadying you.

His gaze never wavers, and in the silence, he murmurs, “You make this look easy, you know that?” His fingers trail gently along your collarbone, adjusting your posture, his hand lingering just a moment longer than necessary, a warmth seeping through his touch.

“Mark…” you whisper, unsure of what to say, your voice barely audible.

Mark’s gaze holds steady, an unwavering confidence in his eyes as he lifts the camera and gives a slight nod. “Take off your sweater,” he says, voice low, almost a soft command. There’s no hesitation, no room for second-guessing in his tone, just a quiet assurance that makes your heart race.

“Mark?” you murmur, uncertain, searching his expression, feeling a flicker of nerves.

He smirks, the corner of his mouth tugging up in that playful, knowing way of his. “It’s for the sake of art,” he insists, a teasing edge to his voice. “You can’t argue with me on that.”

You feel a rush of heat spread through your cheeks, his words emboldening you. His gaze is steady, encouraging, his confidence somehow reassuring, and you find yourself trusting him, letting go of your hesitation. 

The sweater slips from your fingers and pools on the floor, leaving you in nothing but a lace bra, delicate and sheer, hugging your curves and revealing just enough to make the air between you feel electric. The lace clings to your skin, delicate patterns stretching across your chest, faintly exposing the shape of your breasts, the soft rise and fall with each breath, and the subtle peak of your nipples through the fabric. You can feel the cool air prickling your skin, heightening every sensation, every nerve ending alive under his gaze.

Mark’s eyes travel over you, lingering at the curves, the shadows, his gaze tracing every inch like he’s committing it to memory. His breath catches, almost imperceptibly, as his eyes roam over the lace, lingering at the exposed skin along your collarbone, dipping lower to take in the lines of your waist, the softness of your stomach. There’s a sharpness in his gaze, an intensity, but it’s the way his jaw tightens, the way his throat bobs with a quiet swallow that reveals the effect you’re having on him.

The camera hangs loosely in his hands, momentarily forgotten as he studies you, his gaze darkening with each second. You feel the weight of his attention, the way his eyes roam over the gentle curve of your hips, the delicate arch of your ribcage, as if he’s savoring every detail, reluctant to let any part of you go unnoticed.

He raises the camera again, and the click of the shutter feels heavier this time, intimate. With each shot, you feel more exposed, more seen. His silence speaks louder than any words, each subtle shift in his posture, each lingering look, making you feel like you’re the only thing that matters in the room.

Mark’s voice is a low, commanding whisper. “Take everything else off.”

You feel a surge of heat rush through you, your fingers lingering at the hem of your bra as you meet his gaze, challenging, steady. “You want me to strip for you?” Your voice carries a daring edge, matching the intensity of his.

You don’t wait for him to respond or to take all of the control. Instead, you lean in, grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him down with a force that matches the heat between you, crashing your lips into his. The kiss is raw, hungry, unrestrained, a fierce claim that leaves no space for hesitation. Your hands grip onto his shoulders, your nails dragging across his skin, feeling the hard muscle tense beneath as your touch ignites a fire between you both. His jaw clenches under your grip, and you let your lips roam, biting and sucking along the line of his neck, relishing the way his breath hitches, the way his body reacts to every bold touch, every demanding kiss.

He lets out a low growl, meeting your fervour, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies are pressed tight, his breath hot against your mouth. The kiss is messy, fierce, a clash of teeth and tongues, meeting each other’s roughness head-on. His hand finds your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp, and he takes advantage of the moment, pressing deeper, his tongue tracing over yours, tasting you with a hunger that’s as consuming as it is electric. Every movement is rough, every touch searing. 

You push him back, guiding him down onto the bed as you climb over him, pressing him firmly against the mattress. Your hands trace over his chest, feeling every line and curve of muscle, savouring the way his body responds to your touch. His hands grip your hips with a rough urgency, holding you close as you begin to grind against him, the friction between you intense and undeniable. The movement sends waves of heat through you, a building pressure that makes you both gasp, your bodies finding a rhythm together, every shift and grind drawing you closer.

You press down onto him, moving your hips in a steady rhythm, feeling the hardness beneath you, his body responding to each shift, each movement. There’s a delicious pressure that builds with every grind, his hands pressing firmly into your hips, guiding you, encouraging you to press even closer. The rough fabric of his jeans adds to the sensation, intensifying the friction, making each rock of your hips a mix of pressure and heat. You can feel his breath hitch, his body tensing beneath yours, every low groan that escapes him spurring you on, the sounds blending with your own gasps as you both lose yourselves in the feeling, the closeness, the raw connection building between you.

Your mouth finds his neck, leaving a trail of kisses as you rock against him, feeling the rise and fall of his breath, the low, raw sounds escaping from both of you. His hands press into your skin, pulling you against him with each grind, the friction building, your moans filling the air as you lose yourselves in the rhythm, a desperate, unrestrained connection as you both give in completely.

Without breaking away, you slide your hands down, gripping the hem of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as you start to lift it. There’s a sense of urgency in your movements, a building anticipation that makes your pulse race, but just as you begin to pull his shirt up, his hands catch your wrists, stopping you with a firm but gentle grip.

“Not yet,” he whispers, his breath warm against your lips as he leans in to press a soft, lingering kiss there. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze intense, searching. “I want to know more about you… everything you’re willing to tell me.” His words are quiet but hold a weight, a sincerity that sinks deep, leaving you feeling bare in a way that has nothing to do with clothes.

His steady gaze holds yours, and you feel your confident act slipping away, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. There’s a warmth in his eyes, a sense of safety that makes you want to open up, to let him in, even though sharing yourself hasn’t always come easily.

You hum softly, nodding, and he continues, his voice low and inviting. “Let’s play a game, hm? Tell me something about yourself that you’ve never told anyone, and for each secret, you get to take off one piece of my clothes.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, and you nod, feeling oddly comfortable, the way he looks at you making you feel secure, protected. Normally, you’d hesitate to let anyone in this close, but with him, it feels right, natural, as if he’s creating a space for you to share, to be yourself without judgment.

You take a breath, gathering your thoughts. “Alright… here’s one,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “When I was a kid, I used to sneak out at night, just to take photos of the sky and all of the constellations. I’d sit outside for hours. That's how my love for photography started. It was when I felt safest and most at peace.”

He smiles, the warmth in his eyes deepening, and without a word, he leans in, brushing his lips softly against yours, a tender kiss that holds a quiet reverence. You take the moment, slipping your hands under his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, letting it fall to the floor. He looks at you, bare-chested, his skin warm, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath.

You take him in, the lean lines of his torso revealed in the dim light. His skin is smooth and inviting, the muscles of his chest subtly defined, rising and falling with each steady breath. Your eyes trace the lines of his collarbone, down to the toned plane of his chest, where each contour hints at both strength and vulnerability.

You smile, feeling the intimacy between you grow, and decide to lighten the moment with your next fact. “Alright, here’s a weird one… I’m terrified of carrots,” you admit with a shy laugh, “and I have no idea why. It’s irrational.”

He chuckles, his laugh low and soft, his eyes crinkling with amusement. You giggle too, your laughter spilling over as you kiss him again, the lightheartedness making the moment feel even more genuine, more real. You climb off him for a second, struggling playfully as you work on unzipping his jeans, and he lifts his hips, sliding them off and tossing them to the floor with a grin.

In one quick motion, he pulls you back on top of him, his hands finding your thighs as he guides you down, holding you close. You start to grind against him again, you’re unable to resist. Your breaths mingle, a delicious friction building as you press down onto him, the heat between you intensifying. His hard length presses through the thin material of his boxers, and you let out a soft, high-pitched moan, feeling your own body respond, your hips moving of their own accord.

“You still have one more fact to tell me,” he murmurs, his voice teasing, his lips brushing your ear as he smirks, clearly enjoying how distracted you’re becoming.

You bite your lip, your hands splayed against his chest as you try to focus, the warmth of his body beneath you making it hard to think. He leans in close, his voice a low murmur. “You know, you haven’t even been fucked by my cock and you’re already this needy…”

As you reach the last barrier of his clothing, a sigh of relief escapes you. Your hands tremble slightly with anticipation as they move towards the zip on his jeans. But before you can pull it down, his hands clamp over yours, stopping you. His grip is firm, his expression stern yet amused by your obvious eagerness.

You pout deeply, frustration and desire mingling on your face. “I’ve told you enough, please take off your pants.”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your desperation. “I don’t know, I think I’m going to need a little more detail, baby. What about being dominated do you like so much?” 

Caught off guard by his insistence on understanding your desires, you falter for a moment before admitting, “I like being pinned down,” your eyes flicking to his arms, imagining them restraining you, the thought alone sending a thrill through you.

“And what else?” he presses, leaning in closer.

“I like being slapped, spit on, choked, being fucked dumb. I just like feeling like I’ve completely lost control and the guy on top takes it,” you confess, your voice a whisper of raw honesty.

He smirks, his voice dropping to a seductive growl. “Oh, is that what you want from me? You want me to hold you down and fuck you so hard you forget your own name? You want me to use you, throw you around?”

You nod vigorously, “Mhm, now can I have your cock, pleaseee?” your whisper laden with need.

“I don’t know, it feels like there’s something you’re holding back,” he teases, his hands loosening their hold on yours, his own patience wearing thin as his desire builds.

Your cheeks burn with a blush as you quietly mumble, “I have a daddy kink…” His eyebrows raise slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement but he doesn’t comment, simply shakes his head in feigned disbelief and finally unzips his jeans.

You don’t waste any time, you pull down his boxers and his cock springs free, thick and hard, its sheer size both thrilling and nearly overwhelming. Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening as you take in every inch, every pulse seeming to echo the growing need inside you. Vulnerability and desire mix within you, and you can’t tear your gaze away, the sight stirring something deep and all-consuming. A quiet gasp slips past your lips, your cheeks flushing as the thought of him inside you settles heavily, making you ache.

The moment stretches, your anticipation growing unbearable, and before you can stop yourself, a loud, needy moan escapes, filling the room with the raw, unfiltered sound of your desire. It shocks you, how loudly you moaned, as if your body was acting on its own, unable to contain just how badly you need him. The sound reverberates in the quiet space, and even as you try to stifle it, the moans keep slipping out. Your eyes drink in every detail of his cock, your body throbbing with hunger and anticipation that knots in your stomach, urging you closer.

Your mouth waters as you stare, the craving growing stronger with every second. You trace the length of him with wide eyes, the thickness and veins seeming almost unreal, the girth larger than anything you’d imagined. The head is flushed, every throb pulsing with a heat that leaves you dizzy. “Fuck—fuck,” you whimper, voice trembling as disbelief and raw hunger mix in the words. You can barely believe the size, the thickness that promises to fill every part of you, your body reacting instinctively, the longing drawing you closer to him.

Mark chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement as he catches your reaction. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Not what you expected?” he asks, voice low and teasing, full of a quiet confidence that makes your cheeks burn even more.

You shake your head, feeling a shy smile forming as you bite back a small “no,” your voice barely above a whisper. “Respectfully,” you add, voice trembling, “nice guys don’t have big cocks.” The words spill out, almost involuntarily, your gaze still locked on him, unable to look away, entranced.

He chuckles again, shaking his head, his smirk deepening as he watches you. “Who said I’m a nice guy?” he murmurs, the words carrying a promise that sends a thrill through you. You don’t realise it now, but you’re going to regret saying that.

“Come here,” he whispers, his voice rough but soft, drawing you closer with a gentle pull. His hands slide up your back, finding the clasp of your bra, and in one smooth movement, he unhooks it. His gaze is dark and intense as the fabric slips away, his eyes fixated on the way your breasts fall free, the soft curve of your skin catching the low light. His lips part slightly, and you catch the way his breathing hitches, almost like he’s savoring the sight. 

He doesn’t rush, doesn’t speak. Instead, his hands come up, fingers tracing along the swell of your chest before letting his palms cup and lift, making you gasp at the warmth and firmness of his touch. Each bounce, each subtle movement seems to captivate him, his gaze drinking in every detail as though he’s committing it to memory.

He doesn’t hold back, guiding your hips firmly as he slides your jeans and lace thong down in one fluid motion, leaving you both fully naked. You’re seated on his lap now, feeling every inch of his body pressed against yours, the heat between you almost unbearable. His cock rests beneath you, thick and solid, pressing up against your warmth, and you feel a pang of anticipation, desire twisting in your stomach. He watches you with a patient hunger, his hands resting at your hips, giving you the space to take him at your own pace.

Slowly, you begin to lower yourself, feeling the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance, stretching you in a way that feels almost impossible. As you sink down, the sheer size of him has you gasping, his girth filling every inch, forcing your body to accommodate his length. You feel yourself stretch around him, the pressure building as you inch lower, and a strangled moan escapes your lips. 

The fullness is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and an ache that borders on pain, and your hands grip his shoulders as if you’re afraid to let go. “God,” you whisper, barely able to speak. You stare at him in disbelief, feeling the sheer depth and thickness of him, every inch stretching you in ways you’ve never experienced. You’ve had a lot of sex, but you’ve never felt anything this big, this deep inside of you. Your voice trembles as you struggle to find words, the overwhelming sensation making it hard to breathe.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you adjust to him, your body reacting to the way he fills you so completely. “You’re… so big,” you murmur, voice cracking as your breathing quickens. Each inch you take seems to stretch you further, filling you more than you thought possible. He’s thick, almost too much to handle, and yet you can’t stop yourself from wanting every bit of him.

Mark’s gaze softens, a flicker of pride in his eyes as he watches the way you shake on top of him. His hands slide up to cradle your face, thumbs gently brushing away the tears that slip down your cheeks. He leans forward, his lips brushing your ear, and whispers softly, “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” His voice is gentle, almost soothing, and his breath is warm against your skin. “Take your time, baby… let me feel you.”

Before you can fully adjust, he shifts his grip on your hips, and in one fluid motion, he flips the two of you, rolling you onto your back beneath him. The world spins for a brief second, your heart racing as you feel his weight press down, grounding you. His hands find your hips again, holding you steady, his eyes dark with intent as he leans over you, a soft smirk playing on his lips. You’re breathless, the depth of him now more intense as he angles himself above you, his gaze locked on yours as he slowly presses deeper

As he presses into you, the stretch is intense, nearly overwhelming. You feel the fullness, but it’s too much, and the ache borders on pain. Your hands fly up to cover your face as it twists in discomfort, trying to absorb the pressure and failing. “Mark, I—‘too big.’” You breathe out, barely able to get the words out as they’re forced through shallow gasps.

Mark looks down at you with the utmost care, his gaze soft and full of patience. He slides his cock out slowly, each inch easing the pressure, and it doesn’t take long—he’s barely inside of you. “That’s okay,” he whispers, voice low and comforting, brushing a few stray hairs from your face as you breathe deeply, trying to steady yourself. “We’ll just try again.” His words are so gentle, filled with such affection that it makes you dizzy, and you can’t help the small, shaky whimper that escapes you as you nod.

You look up at him, eyes searching his face, and he leans in close, pressing a soft, grounding kiss to your lips, his hands finding yours and gripping them firmly. “You think if I eat you out, it’ll make it easier for me to fuck you?” he murmurs, voice teasing, lips brushing yours. 

You pout, feeling the need still thrumming inside you, and sigh, “Just want your cock.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he kisses you again, trailing down your body. “And it’s all yours… just be patient with me, okay?” he whispers, his voice laced with warmth and care. He moves down, positioning his head in between your thighs, his eyes flicking up to meet yours one last time as his grip on your hand remains, grounding you. His other hand slides up your thigh, fingers pressing firmly as he pushes your legs wider, his touch sending a thrill through you.

Without another word, his mouth descends on you, his tongue flicking over your clit with a deliberate, rough pressure that makes you gasp, every nerve ending igniting under his touch. His mouth moves with an intensity that’s both passionate and unyielding, his tongue tracing slow, sensual circles before pressing firmly, flicking against you with a skill that sends jolts of pleasure straight through your core. He doesn’t let up, lips sealing around your clit, sucking softly, then harder, dragging you deeper into bliss with every motion. Your hips buck against his face, desperate for more, and he growls softly in response, the vibration sending shivers up your spine as he anchors you in place, his grip firm and possessive.

You tug harder on his hair, pulling him even closer, feeling his warm breath against your skin as he sinks his tongue inside you, thrusting and curling with a rhythm that leaves you gasping. He moves rougher, his tongue pressing deeper, tasting you with a hunger that’s almost primal, his hands sliding up to keep your thighs spread wide as he devours you, lost in the moment. Your legs tighten around his shoulders, locking him in place, and he responds with even more intensity, mouth working you harder, deeper, his lips brushing against your slick skin as his tongue finds your clit again, circling it with maddening precision.

With one final, perfectly timed flick of his tongue, the tension snaps, and you’re sent spiraling over the edge. Your body arches, shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you, each pulse more intense than the last. Mark stays exactly where he is, his mouth locked on you, drawing out every last tremor, coaxing every ounce of pleasure from your body. His hands grip your thighs, possessive and steady, keeping you firmly in place as he savors every second of your release.

Even as your body goes limp beneath him, trembling and breathless, his tongue continues its slow, gentle strokes, easing you down from the high, until you’re left blissfully spent in his hands, every nerve tingling in the aftermath.

Mark’s gaze darkens as he presses a wet, lingering kiss right against your core. The way his tongue flicks over you sends an involuntary shiver up your spine, his mouth exploring you with slow, deliberate attention. His lips leave you breathless, a mix of pleasure and anticipation curling through your body as he pulls back, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.

He straightens up, positioning himself at your entrance, his hand gripping your thigh firmly. “Ready for me again, baby?” he murmurs, voice a husky promise as he holds your gaze. With a slow, steady push, he slides inside, inch by inch, letting you feel the stretch, the delicious pressure as he fills you. His eyes flicker with intensity, every movement calculated, controlled. A low, satisfied groan escapes him as he presses further, savoring every moment as he sinks deeper, letting you feel every inch.

His lips meet yours in a soft kiss, the warmth of his mouth contrasting with the steady pressure below. “You feel so good,” he whispers against your lips, his words a low, soothing hum. His thrusts remain slow and unhurried, each one pushing deeper, brushing every sensitive spot, his cock moving with deliberate precision, heightening every sensation. His hand trails up, cradling the back of your neck as he kisses you again, letting the intensity build in the rhythm he sets, every movement designed to keep you on the edge, drawing out your pleasure with each slow, consuming thrust.

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you, the combination of his gentle encouragement and the feeling of him stretching you making you feel vulnerable and cherished all at once. He watches you intently, his gaze darkening as he feels you around him. “God, you’re so tight for me,” he murmurs, his voice a low, rough whisper that sends a shiver through you. His hands grip your waist, holding you firmly as he moves slowly, letting you feel the full stretch, every inch of him pressing deeper, unhurried and deliberate.

“You’re filling me so perfectly,” you murmur, barely able to keep your voice steady, each slow, deliberate thrust making you shiver. “Please, don’t stop… I want all of you.” The words spill from your lips in a quiet plea, your body arching into him, craving the closeness, the depth.

He presses a tender kiss to your jaw, trailing soft kisses down your neck as you adjust to him, each movement sending a wave of pleasure through you. His hands rest at your waist, guiding you with a patience that contrasts the intensity of the moment. “Look at you,” he murmurs softly, a hint of awe in his voice. “Taking me so well like you were made for me.”

He hovers above you, his hands pressing firmly against your hips to keep you in place as he rolls his hips forward, each subtle movement drawing a soft cry from you. His touch is steady, grounding, his gaze fixed on yours with a smirk tugging at his lips. Leaning down, his mouth brushes against your ear, his breath warm and thick with satisfaction. “Just like that,” he whispers, voice low and controlled, laced with pride. “I knew you could take me… you’re doing so well.” His lips hover near your ear, his words fanning over your skin, deep and reassuring. He inches in further, each slow thrust emphasising the stretch, pushing you to feel every bit of him.

He groans softly, his lips capturing yours in a brief, hungry kiss, his mouth warm and possessive before he pulls back. With painstaking slowness, he sinks into you again, inch by inch, the stretch intense as your body instinctively tightens around him. Every shift of his hips sends a spark of pleasure coursing through you, his cock pressing deeper, thick and pulsing, letting you feel the full weight of him as he takes his time.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, voice rough with desire, his grip firm on your hips as he holds you steady. The deliberate pace keeps you teetering on the edge, the friction building as he fills you completely with each slow, controlled thrust. Unable to hold back, you lift your hips to meet his movements, grinding up against him, seeking more. Your hands find his shoulders, nails digging in as you move with him, matching the rhythm he’s set, each roll of your hips bringing him deeper, sparking pleasure that leaves you gasping.

Your breath catches as you rock against him, the ache of desire driving you to push up, to take him further, your body arching in response to every deliberate thrust. “Please,” you whisper, the need undeniable as you move under him, craving the fullness, the heat of his skin against yours. Your breath catches, body arching instinctively, craving more, needing him to fill you fully. But he keeps his pace torturously steady, making you feel every inch as he fills you, pulling back just enough to leave you aching.

A low groan escapes him as he watches you, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth. “You want me to go harder, don’t you?” His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing over your skin as he holds you steady, grounding you beneath him, each touch leaving a warmth that only makes you crave him more.

You nod, lips parted in a soft gasp, eyes pleading. “Yes.” You whisper, voice trembling, the word escaping you in a quiet, desperate plea. “I need more…”

He smirks as he leans close, his breath hot against your skin, his voice a low, intoxicating growl. "I know how much you need it," he murmurs, each word dripping with control, teasing you with every deliberate thrust. The way he fills you-inch by inch-stretches you in a way that has your body clenching desperately around him, pushing you closer to the edge with every slow, deep movement.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, clutching onto him, your breaths ragged as you finally let the word spill from your lips, barely a whisper. "Please, daddy," you gasp, voice trembling with need, the desperation in your tone sparking a darker look in his eyes. 

"That’s my good girl," he growls. The slow, torturous build finally shatters as he lets go, hips snapping forward with a force that has you gasping, every thrust deeper, harder. His grip on you is firm, fingers digging into your skin as he watches you tremble, a possessive edge in his gaze as he fills you again and again.

“God, look at you,” he growls, voice thick with satisfaction, eyes heavy with desire. “Taking every inch… like you’re made for me.” His voice is low, a murmur that’s somehow gentle despite the roughness of his thrusts. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, his pace relentless, the force of each thrust making you moan, your cries mixing with his own low groans.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he chuckles softly, taking in the desperate whimpers escaping you. “I know, baby,” he murmurs, the mockery gone, his voice softer, filled with something deeper. “I’ve got you… don’t worry.” He pushes into you deeper, grinding his hips in a way that has you arching, needing every inch.

“Please… don’t stop,” you gasp, voice breaking as he pounds into you, his movements leaving you breathless, your body clinging to his as he fills you again and again, rougher, harder, until the tension is unbearable.

He watches you, his gaze warm yet possessive, hand slipping down to press between your thighs, fingers teasing as he brings you closer to the edge. “Such a tight pussy,” he breathes, voice low and reverent as he watches you fall apart beneath him, his hands gripping your thighs to spread you open as he drives into you with raw, unrelenting force. “So beautiful… so perfect.”

His hips slam into you with an unrestrained rhythm, each thrust harder and faster than the last, sending shockwaves through your body. Your legs tighten around his waist, locking him in as he finds that perfect angle, hitting it relentlessly, making you see stars. The pleasure is overwhelming, building with every stroke, your body arching up to meet his as he drives deeper, every inch filling you completely, stretching you in ways that make you gasp. Your nails scrape down his back as you cling to him, losing all control, the sensation pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your breath catches, turning into desperate, breathless moans that rise in pitch as he keeps going, unrelenting. You feel yourself spiralling, every nerve on fire as the tension coils tight. Just when you can’t hold back anymore, his pace quickens, and you scream his name. “Oh god, yes! Right there.” The sounds that release from you were raw and uncontrolled, echoing around you as your body clenches around him, your release crashing over you in waves. He doesn’t stop, his thrusts hard and deep, riding out every pulse, keeping you suspended in that overwhelming high, both of you completely lost in each other.

“Look at me,” he coaxes, his thumb brushing over your hip as he pulls back slightly before sinking back in, his gaze locked onto yours, absorbing each gasp that escapes your lips. He presses his hand down on your lower stomach, a bulge forming beneath his palm as he fills you to the hilt. “You feel me here?” he murmurs, voice thick, watching your reaction as the pressure intensifies. “That’s all for you.” The sensation makes you tremble, every nerve coming alive under his touch, grounding you in the overwhelming intensity of each slow, deep movement.

“I could stay like this forever, buried inside you,” he says, each word reverberating through you as his hand stays firm against your stomach, feeling every thrust. His hands glide up your back, pulling you closer, his lips capturing yours in a gentle kiss that contrasts the raw intensity below. “I want you to feel every inch, baby,” he whispers, his gaze never leaving yours, rocking into you deeply, each stroke unhurried but consuming. “This is all for you.”

The pressure builds, overwhelming and all-consuming, and you feel yourself clenching tighter around him, unable to hold back. “I’m gonna cum,” you gasp, your voice breaking as the words tumble out, raw and desperate. The sensation is electric, each thrust pushing you closer, and he grips your hips, pulling you down to meet him with every powerful stroke.

“Do it,” he growls, his voice thick with need, his gaze locked onto yours as he watches you unravel. His movements quicken, his cock throbbing inside you, stretching you to the limit, and just as your release crashes over you, he lets go, spilling into you as he presses deep, holding you against him. The heat of his release fills you, his moans low and guttural as he pulses within you, every inch of him flooding you completely, and you tremble beneath him, gasping for air as the waves of pleasure leave you both breathless and spent.

“Good girl,” he whispers against your lips, his voice soft yet filled with a lingering possessiveness that leaves you flustered, speechless, and overwhelmed by the intensity of what just happened. The warmth of his touch, the weight of his gaze—it all feels so intimate, so unlike anything you’ve experienced before.

Before you know it, he’s lifting you into his arms, carrying you effortlessly to the shower. The warmth of the water surrounds you as he gently cleans you, his hands moving with a tender care that soothes every aching muscle. He massages your shoulders, trails body wash over your skin, and you feel completely cared for in his embrace. This is new, this level of affection and attention after something so intense. With Jeno, it was always straight to sleep, never this depth. But with Mark, you find yourself spending the night held close, his arms wrapped around you, feeling safe, satisfied, and genuinely cherished for the first time in a long while.

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The morning sun spilled gently through the curtains, casting a soft glow that illuminated the room with a warm, amber light. You were wrapped securely in Mark’s arms, the comforting presence of his body intertwined with yours under the soft sheets. For the first time in ages, you woke feeling completely at peace, savoring the best sleep you’d had in so long. The thought flickered through your mind that you could definitely get used to mornings like this.

However, tranquility shattered the instant you opened your eyes and saw Karina standing at the foot of the bed, her eyes wide and fixed on both of you. Panic surged through your veins, and a scream escaped your lips, sharp and loud. Karina, equally startled, screamed back, the sound echoing in the small room.

Mark, awoken by the commotion, sat up abruptly. His eyes darted to Karina, but he remained silent, assessing the situation with a calm that contrasted sharply with the chaos of the moment.

She stood frozen, her eyes darting between you and Mark, her expression a complex tapestry of shock, confusion, and something deeper—perhaps hurt. The air felt charged, heavy with words unspoken and questions unasked.

“Karina, I—” Your voice broke as you scrambled for words, the initial panic giving way to a deep-seated embarrassment. You clutched the sheet to your chest, acutely aware of your nakedness.

Mark’s hand found yours under the sheets, giving a reassuring squeeze. Unlike your visible distress, he remained unnervingly calm, his gaze steady on Karina. “It’s not what it looks like,” You started, but the cliché sounded hollow even to your own ears.

Karina’s eyebrows knitted together, her expression a mix of confusion and hurt as she struggled to find the right words. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, the struggle evident in her face. Finally, managing to push past the lump in her throat, she asked in a choked voice, “How long?”

You could feel Mark tense beside you, the muscles in his body tightening as he absorbed the weight of her question, laden with implications and unspoken accusations. He remained silent, however, allowing you to handle the conversation, understanding his unfamiliarity with Karina meant it was not his place to speak.

“Only once, we’ve only fucked once so far.” You began, your voice soft, attempting to keep the situation calm, “can we talk about this outside?” The bedsheet clutched tightly in your hands, you tried to convey sincerity, hoping she’d agree to a more private discussion away from the charged atmosphere of the bedroom.

You watched as Karina’s gaze shifted to you, her eyes searching yours. There was a sadness there, deep and poignant, hinting at more than just the shock of the discovery. Swallowing hard, you slipped from the bed, wrapping yourself in the sheet and stepping toward her.

“Please, Karina, don’t tell anyone,” you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper. Your hands reached out, touching her arm lightly. “I know this is a lot, but we didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”

You grabbed Karina’s hand, the urgency to maintain privacy pressing upon you. With a gentle tug, you led her towards the door, placing a finger to your lips to signal the need for silence. Together, you tiptoed across the room, your whispers merging with the soft creaks of the floorboards, ensuring your voices remained low enough to evade Mark’s ears.

Karina’s mood shifted abruptly, leaving you momentarily disoriented as her shock morphed into a whirlwind of excitement. Her hands came together with a clap, her eyes widening with a childlike glee as she squealed, “How did this happen?”

You laughed, the sound mingling with a sigh of relief. Though you weren’t entirely sure if her excitement was genuine, it was certainly a welcome change from the suspicion and disappointment. “He just came to my room, and we started talking, and one thing led to another,” you mumbled, keeping your voice low, still half-wrapped in the sheet.

You let out a breath, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you recalled the unexpected turn of events. “It was unexpected, he sked if he could help with my assignment, so I said yeah. I took photos of him, and then he took my camera and started taking photos of me. He asked me to take my clothes off, and yeah… it just went off from there.”

Her eyes widened even further, and she gasped dramatically, leaning in closer. “His cock?”

You stifled a moan at the memory, nodding slightly at her unspoken question. “It’s so big.”

“And how was he?” Karina leaned in, her curiosity piqued as if she were gathering details for a juicy story.

“He was good, yeah, really good,” you confessed, your cheeks heating up as you remembered the intensity. “He definitely knows how to handle a girl. Clearly not his first time.” You paused, biting your lip as you considered how much to share. “And… he was holding back a bit because, you know, it was a lot for me at first. It took a few tries for him to even get fully inside of me.”

Karina’s eyes sparkled with a mix of astonishment and amusement. “So, are you guys, like, a thing now, or was this a one-time thing?”

You hesitated, the reality of the situation settling in. “I’m not sure yet. We haven’t really defined anything. It just happened so fast, and now I’m trying to wrap my head around it all.” A rush of boldness swept over you as you added, “But honestly, I wouldn’t mind fucking him more. He feels really good inside of me.”

Karina nodded, her expression turning a tad more serious. “Just be careful, okay? I mean, it’s exciting and all, but don’t get swept away without considering the consequences.”

You appreciated her concern, knowing it stemmed from a place of friendship and care. “I will,” you assured her, feeling a mixture of gratitude and caution. “Thanks, Karina. It means a lot to have you looking out for me.”

After reassuring Karina that you would catch up with her properly later, you offer her a smile as she heads downstairs to grab some breakfast. The moment she’s out of sight, you let out a deep sigh of relief and make your way back into the bedroom. The air feels heavy, saturated with the lingering tension of the earlier encounter.

Mark is still lying in bed, his eyes closed, seemingly lost in thought or perhaps trying to grasp the remnants of sleep. As you approach, he senses your presence and without opening his eyes, reaches out to pull you back into the warmth of his embrace. His skin is warm against yours, but it does little to soothe the chill of apprehension that has crept into your bones. Gently, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, a silent reassurance amidst the storm of emotions.

“All okay?” he whispers, his voice low and concerned as he pulls you closer, seeking to envelop you in his security.

You nod against his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing steadying your own. “Yeah, I just told her not to tell anyone until we figure out what this is.” Your voice is a mix of determination and worry, echoing the complexity of your feelings.

He sighs, a sound that carries a mix of relief and something else—perhaps resignation or a touch of dread for the complications yet to come. “Okay, good,” he murmurs, his arms tightening around you as if to fortify you both against the challenges ahead.

As you lay there, tucked into Mark’s embrace, the room fills with a silence that speaks louder than words. The conversation with Karina, while out of earshot, hangs over you like a specter, its implications darkening the edges of this quiet moment. The reality of your situation, of the secret you now both carried, was weighty and complex. You wonder about the fragility of this newfound attraction you had for Mark, about how the truth, once disclosed, might alter everything.

His steady heartbeat against your ear is a constant reminder of the present, of the choices you’ve made, and the ones still looming ahead. Mark’s hand moves to stroke your hair gently, a soothing gesture that belies the anxiety that you both feel. “Stop worrying and just close your eyes, get some sleep,” he says soothingly, his voice a calming balm. “I got you.”

You press closer, feeling the heat of his naked body against yours, a vivid reminder of how you fucked earlier even after your bath, when you both surrendered to a series of intense, passionate rounds. “Okay,” you whisper back, letting the firmness of his embrace and the sincerity in his words soothe you towards sleep.

───────────────────────────────

The cool autumn air nipped at your skin as you made your way to the gymnasium for another away match. Despite the warmth and safety you had felt wrapped in Mark’s arms earlier that morning, reality beckoned. The game was due to start within the hour, and the atmosphere around the court was buzzing with anticipation.

As you approached, the scene unfolded vibrantly before you. The team was already on the court, running drills and warming up with a focused intensity. Nearby, your fellow cheerleaders were gathered, practicing their routines and cheering, their voices rising in synchronized chants that filled the air with excitement.

You slipped into your cheer uniform with a sense of resignation, feeling the familiar snugness of the sleek, blue and gold ensemble that hugged your figure and ended in a flared skirt. Although the outfit usually made you feel pretty and empowered, today it felt more like a costume you were obligated to wear. As you tied your hair up and secured your pompoms, it wasn’t giddiness that washed over you, but a sense of duty; you were dragging yourself through the motions, mustering the energy to perform your role despite not wanting to be there.

The game kicked off with high energy as you took your place on the sidelines. From here, you had a clear view of both the game and the entrance. You noticed Jeno frequently glancing towards the door with an expression of mixed anticipation and dread. When his father finally appeared, taking a seat in the stands with a stern posture and an unyielding gaze, you saw Jeno’s demeanor change instantly. His movements on the court became forceful, overly aggressive as if each pass and shot were a desperate plea for approval.

“Jeno seems really tense today, doesn’t he?” Karina leaned over and whispered to you as she noticed his aggressive gameplay.

“Yeah, his dad just showed up,” you replied, nodding towards the imposing figure in the stands.

Jeno’s father was a strict, uptight man with sharp features that seemed permanently etched into a frown. His presence was commanding, and his eyes rarely showed emotion, giving him a cold, intimidating aura. You had seen him a few times before but had always avoided interaction; his severe demeanor and the tension that followed him were enough to keep you at a distance.

As the game unfolded, Jeno and Mark, despite the clear tension and their notably strained relationship, surprisingly found a rhythm together on the court. Their coordinated movements and strategic plays became increasingly effective, slowly winning over the crowd.

Donghyuck’s voice boomed over the speakers, narrating the match with enthusiasm, “And what a play by the brothers! Despite the family drama we’ve all heard about, Mark and Jeno are turning up the heat on the court!”

Mark executed a swift, strategic pass to Jeno, aiming to capitalize on a brief opening in the opposing team’s defense. However, under the weight of his father’s intense scrutiny and the mounting pressure, Jeno fumbled the catch. The ball slipped through his fingers, rolling off to be intercepted by a player from the opposing team. This mistake quickly turned into a counterattack, resulting in the opposing team scoring a crucial point. The crowd’s reaction was immediate—murmurs of disappointment and frustration filled the air, mirroring the dismay on Jeno’s face as he glanced apologetically towards Mark. 

His voice cut sharply through the commotion of the crowd, not with generic cheers but with pointed, critical commands. “Jeno, focus! Stop getting distracted!” he barked, loud enough for not just Jeno but everyone nearby to hear. His words, filled with frustration and command, resonated across the court, causing some of the other spectators to shift uncomfortably in their seats. The intense scrutiny and public criticism only added to the tense atmosphere, underlining the challenging dynamics that Jeno was grappling with during the game.

“Tempers are really heating up on the court!” Donghyuck observed, his tone reflecting the palpable tension filling the gym. “It’s clear there’s a lot more at stake here than just points and plays.”

The tension reached a boiling point when an opposing player fouled Jeno aggressively. Mark instinctively stepped in, his reaction quick and protective. The situation quickly spiraled into a physical altercation, with teammates and referees rushing to intervene. The crowd gasped and murmured as the players were pulled apart, the underlying familial pressures and frustrations manifesting in the chaos on the court.

After the game, as the crowd began to disperse, you saw Jeno’s father approach him, his voice stern as he critiqued Jeno for his “lack of control” on the court. His cold dismissal of his son’s efforts was painful to witness, and as you watched, your understanding of the toxic dynamics within their family deepened.

Feeling a profound sympathy for Mark, who had tried to protect his brother despite the personal cost, you decided to approach him. Mark was sitting on the bench, nursing a bruise that had formed on his arm and a visible injury on his face. You walked over cautiously, your approach gentle, trying to convey your concern without overwhelming him.

“Hey, that was some game,” you started, your tone deliberately light but tinged with genuine concern at his injuries.

He glanced up, managing a weak smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s nothing serious. Just a scratch,” he murmured, referring to the bruising that was starting to bloom along his arm and face.

“Do you wanna come with me?” he asked suddenly, his voice low as he stood up stiffly from the bench.

“Where?” you replied, curious about his sudden urge to escape.

“I don’t know where. I just need to get away from here,” he confessed, his gaze drifting towards the direction to the locker room, a quiet spot away from the remaining spectators.

Following his lead, the door shut behind you with a definitive thud, sealing off the outside world. Mark turned to you, his expression a mix of vulnerability and need. Without a word, he stepped closer, reducing the space between you. His gaze locked onto yours for a brief moment, then his hands found the small of your back, pulling you firmly against him. In one swift, fluid motion, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was hard and urgent, his mouth moving against yours with a force that spoke of deep desperation. 

Mark’s hands moved to your waist, his grip both firm and gentle. He lifted you slightly, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist. The closeness intensified, your bodies pressing together in a way that felt both thrilling and dangerous. He began to sit down on a nearby bench, pulling you even closer, but a sudden rush of awareness made you pull back. Shaking your head, you tried to slide off his lap, realizing the inevitable outcome—a quick, intense sexual encounter with him, the thought of his cock sliding into you making you pause. You were both intensely horny, and the risk of being caught only added to the tension.

Mark, sensing your hesitation, tightened his grip, his fingers digging into your skin with a silent plea. He leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a firm, urgent kiss that conveyed his desire clearly. As he pulled back slightly, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips as he whispered, “Stay.” The firmness of his erection pressed against you, a clear and insistent signal of his arousal. Overwhelmed by the intensity of his need, and the undeniable physical connection sparking between you, your resolve melted away. You let out a soft sigh of relief and settled back down onto him, no longer able to resist the compelling force of his touch. The heat of his body enveloped you, driving away any lingering doubts as you both succumbed to the thrilling urgency of the moment.

At his gentle coaxing, you had moved closer, positioning yourself to straddle his lap while being mindful of his injuries. As you settled onto him, his hands rested lightly on your hips, guiding you down with care. The smile he gave you was tender, almost grateful, and you couldn’t help but return it with a sweet, somewhat mischievous grin, secretly pleased that he had convinced you to sit so close. The proximity was immediate and electric; the contact sparked a palpable energy that coursed through you both, your heartbeat syncing with his in a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing.

Your gaze flickers briefly toward the first aid kit positioned on a nearby bench. Reaching for the first aid kit, you felt the shift in his breathing as you moved, his chest rising more sharply against yours. “You don’t have to,” he murmured, his hands sliding to your lower back, holding you securely, almost as if he was afraid you’d pull away.

“It’s okay. I want to take care of you,” you responded, your voice barely above a whisper as you opened the kit and began to extract the necessary supplies. You turned back to face him, meeting his gaze. There was a warmth there, inviting and deep, pulling you in. Slowly, deliberately, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. It was a gentle brush, tender but laden with all the emotions stirring between you.

Mark responded instinctively, his lips parting slightly under yours as one of his hands moved to cradle the back of your neck, guiding the kiss into something less cautious, more open. You could feel the roughness of his palm, a stark contrast to the softness of the kiss. His other hand traveled up, tracing the line of your spine through the fabric of your uniform, sending shivers of anticipation skittering down your back.

The air was charged as you carefully wrapped the bandage around his arm, the close proximity intensifying every subtle touch. Each circle of the bandage over his skin brought your fingers grazing against him, feeling the warmth of his body and the tension in his muscles responding to your care. His sharp intake of breath when the bandage pulled slightly too tight made you pause.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice a soft whisper laden with concern, noticing his wince.

He shook his head gently, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of pain and a deeper, more intense longing. “It’s okay, not your fault.” He reassured you, his voice rough, edged with a raw emotion that sent shivers down your spine. His hands then moved from your hips, gliding up to your thighs, his touch deliberate and increasingly bold, pressing you closer against him.

Mark’s hands moved with purpose as he slid them under your skirt, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of your thighs. He pressed and kneaded your flesh with a fervent urgency, each movement deliberate and intense. His touch was skilled, confident as he explored, drawing you in tightly against him. Your bodies pressed closer, nearly fusing as his hands continued their assertive dance over your skin, heightening the physical connection between you.

The locker room was filled with the sound of your heavy, mingled breaths, punctuated by the subtle rustling of fabric as his hands explored further. The growing heat between you was palpable, Mark’s arousal pressing firmly against you, signaling his desire. A soft giggle escaped your lips, smothered by his in a kiss that was both hungry and profound.

“Baby… why don’t you ride my cock?” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with unchecked desire, each word vibrating through you.

You pulled back slightly, your cheeks flushed with a mix of desire and bashfulness. “In here? People are gonna walk in on us and see us,” you whispered back, the thrill of being caught adding a sharp edge to your arousal.

With a nonchalant shrug and a dark, intense look in his eyes, he repeated, “I don’t mind,” his voice deep and seductive. It was an offer of sheer recklessness, and as you gazed into his eyes, you felt a daring part of yourself responding with equal fervor.

“I can’t believe you still have the energy, especially after this match.” You teased, your breath hot against his lips, 

Mark, feeling your hesitation, intensified his grip, his hands firm on your hips as he pulled you closer. He kissed you deeply, his lips urgent against yours, effectively silencing any lingering doubts. As he broke the kiss, his face stayed close, his breath mingling with yours. “I’ll always have time for you,” he whispered huskily, his voice thick with desire. His hands roamed assertively over your body, tracing the curve of your spine, then sliding forward to the edge of your cheer uniform. His touch was deliberate, igniting sparks of arousal that radiated through your core. The hardness pressing against you was impossible to ignore, and his movements suggested he was more than ready to continue despite the day’s exertions. 

As the heat between you intensified, you suddenly felt overwhelmed. Despite Mark’s firm grip, you managed to slide off his lap, your cheeks burning with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. He sighed deeply, a low moan escaping him as he leaned back, his head tipping upwards and his eyes closing in frustration.

“I—we should probably head back to the motel,” you stammered, your words tumbling out in a rush. “There’s the curfew, and…” Your voice trailed off, not quite sure how to navigate the sudden shift in atmosphere.

Mark opened his eyes and looked at you, a flash of understanding crossing his features before he sighed again, resigning himself to the reality of the situation. He stood up, the lines of his body tense yet controlled. Moving closer, he wrapped an arm securely around you, his touch now protective rather than persuasive. “Let’s go then,” he said, his tone gentle. 

───────────────────────────────

As Mark draped his arm around your shoulders, the warmth of his touch contrasted with the cool air of the nearly empty gymnasium. The game was over, but the echo of bouncing basketballs still lingered as you both made your way towards the motel. Despite the intense moments in the locker room where Mark had coaxed and almost persuaded you to cross the line, you hadn’t ended up having sex. Yet, that didn’t diminish his touchy, affectionate nature that enveloped you now.

His lips found yours again, drawing a giggle from you as his kisses landed with a mix of playfulness and passion. He stopped walking, right in the middle of the gymnasium, and his hands cupped your face as he kissed you deeply, passionately. You responded without hesitation, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer, sinking into the warmth of his embrace, feeling the firmness of his body against yours.

But as the heat between you intensified, reality nudged at your consciousness. You were literally in public, and the risk of being seen was too great. Reluctantly, you pulled away with a jolt, gasping for air. Your breath came in heavy, uneven bursts as you whispered, almost fearfully, “People will see us.”

Mark smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He tightened his grip around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his body a solid barrier against any lingering hesitation. “Look around, no one’s here,” he murmured against your ear, his voice a soothing whisper that steadied your racing heart. His reassurance, soft and certain, drew you back into his gravitational pull.

He kissed your lips again, softer this time, a tender brush that promised more but ended too soon, pulling back just enough to let you catch your breath yet not enough to let you retreat. “See? It’s just me and you here,” he reassured you with a gentle smile.

“Just me and you,” you repeated, your voice a whisper as you leaned in closer, your forehead resting against his.

“Good girl,” he affirmed softly, his breath warm against your skin, his approval sending a shiver down your spine.

Emboldened, you closed the small distance, pressing your lips to his in a kiss filled with all the pent-up desire of the evening. He chuckled, a low sound that vibrated through you, and met your desperation with equal fervour, his kiss deepening, hands roaming over your back as if memorising every curve.

A cough shattered the intimate atmosphere, snapping your heads towards the sound. The sudden intrusion spiked anxiety through your veins, a feeling that only intensified as you saw who was watching you with a judgmental yet amused expression: Lee Taeyong, Jeno and Mark’s father.

“Let’s go,” Mark muttered tersely. He didn’t acknowledge his father, didn’t meet his eyes. It was as if Taeyong were invisible to him, a poignant reversal of how Taeyong had always treated Mark—as if he never existed in his heart, never seen as his son.

Mark gripped your hand, his touch firm, and began to walk in the opposite direction, but you froze when Taeyong’s rough, sneering voice cut through the tension.

“Jumping from one Lee to the next, aren’t we? I never took you for a whore, Y/N.” He said, his voice laden with a contemptuous snicker that echoed through the empty gym. His eyes scanned you with a cold, scrutinizing look that felt like an overt accusation of your character.

Mark’s response was immediate; his knuckles whitened as he balled his hands into fists, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he fought the urge to confront his father physically. Yet, he managed to maintain a semblance of calm, drawing in deep breaths to steady himself.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Mark’s voice was low, dangerously controlled. “Don’t even look at her. You have no right to judge, not after everything. Watch it, Taeyong.”

The intensity in Mark’s voice was unmistakable, a clear warning laced with years of pent-up frustration and anger. His stance was protective, placing himself subtly between you and his father, his body language declaring that he wouldn’t tolerate any more insults.

Grabbing your hand, he pulled you away firmly, his steps quick and decisive as he led you towards the exit. “Let’s get out of here,” he murmured, his voice still tense but softer now, directed only at you. As you walked away, the weight of his father’s words lingered, but Mark’s defense reassured you, his loyalty clear and unwavering in the face of his father’s provocation.

The cold air hit your faces as you stepped outside, the gym’s heavy atmosphere replaced by the night’s sharp chill. Your mind was racing, anxiety swirling within as the reality of Taeyong’s potential backlash began to set in. It was undeniable—Taeyong knowing about you and Mark could never be good. You feared he would use this revelation against you, perhaps even as a weapon in some twisted game of control.

As you glanced at Mark, you saw the changes in him: his usually expressive eyes were now stormy and distant, his jaw set in a hard line. The grip he had on your hand tightened, not painfully, but with a protective intensity that was both comforting and slightly alarming. He was silent as you walked, each step seeming to take him further into his own turbulent thoughts.

The silence between you stretched, filled only with the echo of your footsteps and the distant hum of the city around you. The tension from the confrontation hung heavily, a foreboding shadow that neither of you could shake off.

As you reached the car, Mark broke the heavy silence, his voice low and tinged with regret. “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he said, his expression somber. “Don’t listen to him, okay? Not a word he says.”

“It’s not your fault,” you replied softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, trying to ease the weight of the situation he carried.

Mark shook his head slightly, a determined edge to his voice as he looked you directly in the eyes. “No, but don’t believe a word that idiot says. It’s all just noise.” His hand reached up to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face, a protective gesture that softened his stern expression.

“I know,” you murmured, feeling the solidarity between you strengthening despite the shadows of the night’s events.

As you drove through the quiet streets, a gnawing fear took hold. You found yourself praying that Taeyong wouldn’t escalate things further, especially not involving Jeno. The uncertainty of what lay ahead left you uneasy, the comfort of Mark’s presence a small solace against the potential storm that might be brewing.

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taglist — @keelbeel @d3nbl4d3 @hyuckkklee @ahgasezennie @second-floors @lovetaroandtaemin @steadyparkjisungbookishspy @xuyiyang @remgeolli @toroufriteh

author’s note — hiiii i hope you enjoyed :) make sure to leave a follow, a like, an ask or just interact or lmk what you thought!!

[cvnt4him]

Hello!!! Can i request Izuku x reader doing it for the first time? I think ot would be cute if they were together since UA, and like they were each other first everything.

I love love LOVE. This idea sm. Ask and you shall receive my dearest nonnie<33

Our First.

You and izuku had been dating for about 6 months. You were his everything, you meant so much to him and he wanted you to know it. He's all about making sure you feel what he intended to make you feel. If that's excited then it's excited, if it's loved then it's loved.

He doesn't truly know how much you love and adore him. Like actually, you'd legit die for him like and I know when people say that they say it to show devotion but you'd like, actually do it. No questions asked. Which, it hurts your heart to know he probably wouldn't do the same for you, and some day he's going to not only belong to you but the world as well, and that he'll never truly be yours, and never truly be as devoted to you as you are him.....

But I suppose that's a problem for another day!!

Izuku was having a study group thing with a couple of friends while you were in your dorm watching a movie with a couple of your friends.

You excused yourself to get up to go to the restroom, you hadn't really needed to go you just wanted an excuse to use your phone without anyone saying out it away.

You close the door behind you and sit on the toilet to text your boyfriend.

Hey babes<333

Wyd?

Delivered

You waited for him to reply, tapping your phone against your cheek and staring at whatever caught your eye before your phone vibrated, you were quick to check it.

Hello ml!!<3333

I'm studying w kacchan and a couple of others. Nothing too great😞

Wby?

You didn't really know how to respond. You could A, tell him what you were actually doing which was hiding out in a bathroom to text him.

B, tell him what you had been doing which was watching the worlds most boring movie.

Or C, just make something up. Maybe add a little spice, yk be sexy.

...

You were definitely going with C.

Thinking ab you;(

You sigh heavily, it was a risky text the two of you had never sent texts and the sort. You didn't know how he'd react. It's not like you just asked him to send a dick pic or anything..

Izuku had placed his phone face down on the library table so he could focus (and not get told off by Iida). His phone vibrated which caught everyone's attention causing them to look at izuku.

Izuku looked around the table to see an annoyed Iida and other curious faces. He apologizes with a slight nod of his head attempting to grab his phone before it gets snatched by a snickering denki.

"whua-- hey!"

Izuku whisper yells at denkis trying to grab his phone back but also not be loud since they are inside of a library.

"who could possibly be texting you this much?"

"my girlfriend. Not that it's any of your business."

Izuku was quick to snap before tanking his phone out of denkis hands and holding it to his chest with a snarl. Everyone was surprised by this, he'd never acted like this before. Everyone knows him as the class' sweetheart.

"YOU. have a girlfriend?"

Denki asks, getting agreeing murmurs from those in the room. Besides Iida and katsuki, they already knew about you and izuku. Katsuki because deku can never seem to not tell him shit, and iida because he caught you guys holding hands and had seen you kiss his cheek.

The two of you were really secretive with your relationship, if people really paid attention they'd see the way you guys are with each other, and trust me you guys would do more PDA in public but izukus not in that stage yet, he needs time to work up to it. Y'know do more than just holding hands and cheek kissing.

Izuku looks down at his phone to see your text as everyone huddles close to him to be nosy as well. He groans before reading your text. A blush paints his freckled face with wide eyes, the others around him chuckling and laughing around.

"oh wow izuku looks like your girlfriend wants you~"

Denki sings to him causing kirishima to whistle and nudge izuku with his shoulder, izuku was flushed red and hiding his face with his hand putting his phone down onto the table. He didn't know how to react, you've never been this direct before!!

Izuku was speechless, he just stared at the message for a while everyone pitching in things he should say.

"you should say something sexy back!"

"yeah something like 'hey sexy mama~'"

"you all fucking suck. Especially yours kirishima."

Bakugou boasts with a roll of his eyes before standing up and punching deku in the arm.

"oi, just do whatever you want. Don't listen to these fucking losers they haven't even seen a pair of boobs."

"hey!!"

"c'mon man.."

Kirishima and denkis spirits die down so now it's just izuku staring at his phone. He whimpers lightly and sets it down on the table along with his head.

"I don't know what to say..."

Izuku sighs heavily and defeatedly. He wanted to text you back something sexy really he did, he just didn't know how to go about it. He liked you a lot and didn't want to embarrass himself.

"tch. Give it t'me dork."

Bakugou snatches izukus phone and begins typing.

The three dots show up on your phone after a couple of minutes seeming like hours. For a second you thought you'd went too far, you guys have never been this direct before so you can imagine it's a lot for him.

Oh yeah?

Wanna come over and maybe watch a movie?

You gasped loudly trying to hold back the squeal that wanted to escape your throat, you jumped around in one of your friends bathroom in excitement. Sure you've been to izukus dorm before but the two of you never really....slept together. Like, sure occasionally you'll cuddle close and hell hold you but you've never like actually stayed a night before. Mostly because it's not really allowed and he didn't want to get you in trouble but still.

You were so excited you typed back rather quickly.

I'd love too!!

Shit does that sound desperate? You don't want to come off as desperate despite you guys being together for quite some time.

I mean if you want me too then I don't mind.

Yeah that sounds better!

Bakugou sucks his teeth before tossing the phone back on the table and sliding it to a saddened izuku with his forehead still on the table. He turns his head to see his phone and new texts.

He picks his phone up reading everything his eyes widening each time he reads a new message. He gasps with sparkles in his eyes before he looks up to bakugou who just scoffs and looks away with a slight blush.

"yer' fucking welcome.. nerd."

Izuku chuckles before wrapping his arms around the angry blond who groaned and turned his head, izuku looked up at him with the biggest smile as a thank you and grabs his things before fleeting out of the library.

"are you kidding me. We're supposed to be studying!! You're all going to fail if we do not!"

Tenya barks at the crowd izuku stops at the door before turning around, the others look down in an apologetic manner. He sighs as izuku looks at him with those big puppy dog eyes of his.

"fine, whatever, get the hell out. I'm done here anyways."

Izuku giggles before leaving with a hop, he was so excited to see you!

Once he made it to his dorm he looked around to see how dirty it was, his weights all over the floor some clothes hanging off his bed, his covers and pillows a mess, his floor was littered with cup noodles, water bottles, tissues for... Personal use.. and other things, if he was going to even be in the same room with you he was going to need said room to be cleaned. So he dropped his stuff on the ground and began cleaning the shit out of his room.

You started practically sprinting to his room. You wanted to see him so bad it had been about 2 days since you had! You guys text and call sure but it's like the two of you are still friends who hardly talk and you've noticed that. You hated it as well. You wanted to be seen as a real couple but you just didn't know how to go about it. Getting to spend time with him like this meant the most to you!

You finally made it out of breath due to the flight of stairs you actually ran through, you stopped at his door trying to catch your breath, you fixed your shorts and your tank top to make sure your boobs didn't spill out and regained your composure.

You clear your throat and knock on his door, he was quick to answer with a beautiful bright smile. You couldn't help but to smile back at your cute freckled boy!

"hi hunny."

He says opening his arms for a hug. You rushed into his arms and inhaled the delicious comfortable smell of him and his room, the aroma that came from him was just divine. The warmth be gave you in the hug that he held you in was amazing.

He chuckled and kissed your forehead which made you look up at him. He looked down at you with the most love filled eyes. He rubbed your stray hairs to the back of your hair and invited you in.

He closed the door behind you and walked you to the bed, you both sat down as you admired the way his dorm was oddly clean and how his bed was very neat, the purple fuzzy cover you got for him on your month-iversary. The laptop and snacks he had put out so you guys could watch movies. This was perfect.

"I uh.. I figured we could watch a movie and cuddle.. maybe? If you'd like of course I don't want you to be uncomfortable!"

He stammers on his words, he was sure to ramble off if you hadn't pecked his lips. A quick swift kiss landing on his soft pink tinted lips making him flush red.

"I think it's lovely izuku. Id love to cuddle and watch a movie! I love the snack choices as well!!"

You giggle and run your fingers through his messy curls, they entangle around your fingers as you pull one of the coils and watch it bounce back up to his messy mop of hair.

He chuckles nervously before nodding to the bed hinting he's ready to start the cuddle sesh. You both cuddle close and press play on the movie, you scoot as close to your boyfriend as possible hoping he'll wrap his arms around your shoulder like he usually does. He hums lightly and kisses your forehead and hands you a twizzler which you take thankfully of course but why hadn't he wrapped his arm around her per usge? You decided to brush it off and continue the movie.

The movie was almost over and you hardly even paid attention to it you were so ticked off with izuku for not wrapping his arm around you!! What was wrong? Why hadn't he done it? It wasn't cuddling if you two weren't practically inside of each other's skin.

You sigh heavily once, then twice, then three times which izuku eventually caught onto. Your dramatic sighs and the way you slightly nudged him each time how was he supposed to ignore that? His lovely girlfriend all upset and bothered by something! Mm-mm this just won't do!!

"is something wrong, my love? Is the candy getting to you and making you sick? Was the movie too boring? Would you like me to change it? Are you tired? What's the matter??"

"why didn't you wrap your arm around my shoulder like you normally do when we cuddle?"

You pout up to him from on his chest with a frown, you were really upset. You hadn't seen your boyfriend in days and instead of cuddling like normal he was being weird!

His eyes widen as he bats his pretty long eyelashes at you before bursting into laughter, he tried to hold in his laugh really he did but he couldn't help himself. You were too cute to ignore and the way you got all angry and pouty was just too adorable that it made him laugh.

You cross your arms and move off of his chest sitting up against his headboard and pouting. You were pissed, he was laughing at you and still wasn't telling you why he was acting weird.

"im- I'm sorry hunny really I am! I just.. whoo.. I just didn't think you'd get angry over something as small as that! If you wanted me to why dirnt ou tell me?"

He questions scooting closer to you and rubbing his thumb across your cheek. You wouldn't look at him and answer him so he did what came to mind. He yanked you by your chin forcing you to look at him, whilst doing all of this he still had that adorable wide eyed, concerned, yet worried face on his adorable little face.

You look up at him with no words in mind, you just looked at him with saddened eyes and he hated it. The look you gave him broke his big heart. So he did what he felt would cheer you up. Izuku moved in slowly toward you, his eyes lowering down to your lips before he gently placed his own on top of yours. His lips slowly join with yours in a soft dance of love. A breathy moan left his mouth as his eyebrows furrowed, all izuku wanted was to gently kiss your beautiful lips so he could snap that adorable pout off of your face but now he was all tied up in your lips.

They glided together perfectly and slowly, both of your breaths being taken away by each other. You were hungry for him, the kiss he gave you sent a warm feeling straight to your core which caused you cunt to throb. God was this going to be the night? The night you finally have sex with your boyfriend?

You guys don't really make out a lot because of how sensitive he is, the last few times you tried he instantly shut it down because he got hard, you wanted to say something those times, like offer help to him but you just couldn't. Now, now that you had him you didn't plan on letting him go.

The kiss got heated and more passionate. You pulled him in closer with a groan escaping you that went straight to his cock. It twitched against his shorts making them move up and down. If you had looked you would see the way his hardening cock managed to make his shirts move. God his cock must be really thick..

"...wait! Wait, I uhm-- I just uhm.. uh.."

He pushed you away and fiddled with his fingers, he couldn't find the words he wanted to say. Izuku would be lying if he said he didn't want you, to move forward with you. He wanted that, he aches for that. His cock yearned to be touched by you, your hands. You don't know how many times he's stroked his short thick cock to the thought of you. The thought of your lips kissing his enlarged leaky tip and the way you'd lick the ore cum off of your lips. He's had so many fantasies about you and he wanted to make them all come true however there was one problem.. he was a big fat virgin. He didn't know what to do or how to even go about it hell he'd probably feel out the second he actually saw your full boob.

Sure he's seen the top of your boobs and he's squeezed them before but he's never actually seen them or touched them bare. Just the thought makes him shudder. He wants you but he's scared. Scared he won't be able to please you or even make you cum! Hes researched the feme orgasm and body a lot, he wanted to be prepared for when you wanted this.

Izuku watches a lot of porn so he knows what a pussy and boobs look like of course, but he didn't know what yours looked like and that's what mattered most to him. He was nervous he'd cum too quickly, there were so many things that could go wrong because of him.

"izuku... Do you not want to have sex with me?"

You ask slightly offended and angered by him every time you get even the littlest bit close to something leading to sex he always shuts it down and don't get me wrong you're perfectly fine with him wanting to take his time to nourish and care for your relationship [one of his old excuses] but you want more and he does too, you know he does so why won't he just come onto you already?

His shakey wide eyes shot over to your direction, he wanted to say something but he couldn't think of any words at the moment. He looks at you with sad eyes before pulling you into a quick kiss. The kiss only angered you more.

"I.. of course I want you y/n, of course I... I want to have sex with you but.... Im scared."

"huh? If what izuku. Be for real."

"i- I'm scared that I won't be able to please you, but I know if I don't please you in that way you'll find someone who will... And I don't want to lose you..!"

Fuck. Why did his stupid little speech have to tug at your heartstrings like that. His dumb wide eyes looking down before looking back into your eyes then away again. He was having trouble keeping eye contact with you and that only made him more appealing to you.

"izuku. I want you and only you. If you were to randomly tell me one day that you don't want to have sex ever, period, at all whatsoever, I'd be perfectly fine with that. I love you, not your body. The way you make me feel is absolutely divine and royal-like. I feel as if I don't deserve you, but I know you want to be with me like I do you, and I know you're scared but you have nothing to be afraid of. You're a virgin, so am I. So... Let's learn together."

You grab his hands and stare directly into his wide emerald green eyes, the way they shine and fill with tears just made you want to fuck him even more. Is that fucked up? Probably? Probably.

He sniffed before pulling you into his lap and holding you close, tears falling from his eyes as he tries to hold back his sniffles and cries. You pat his head and pull it from the crook of your neck his tears wetting it. You kiss his forehead lightly once before pushing a stray curl behind his ear.

He looks up at you with glossy eyes they were just so big and full of love you couldn't help but bite your lip. Your cunt throbbed and clenched around nothing at the thought of making him cry from immense pleasure.. fuck you didn't know how bad you really needed him.

Izuku became a flushed mess, wide eyes looking up at you searching your face for some kind of answer to his unasked question. He felt the way your cunt throbbed above him, and just to his luck he felt it on his cock and made his cock twitch up into you. The heat that starts pooling in between both of your bodies was eating the both of you alive.

You grabbed his shoulders and gently ground your hips into his which made a moan rip out of him. Both of your eyes widen as you both just stare at each other, his cheeks were flushed red completely the poor freckled boy looked like a stray entry he couldn't help but whine and hide his face in his hands.

"I'm- I'm so sorry!! I- I don't know where that came from!"

He whines from beneath his large scarred hands, his face buried in his palms. You didn't say anything just simply moving his hands from his face, you pepper kisses all over his face gently before placing your hand back on his shoulders and trailing your knees to his ear, a light gasp escaped his lips as he was startled by the way you peppered kisses on his ear. He was sensitive all over but his ears were extremely so, he closed his eyes and just relished in the feeling of you. You then grind into him once more, this time repeatedly.

He choked on a moan and bites his lip trying not to let them escape. He wanted this to be good and not embarrassing for either of you!

Your grinding gets tougher and more buried, your clit was brushing against your underwear in a delicious way that had your mind going blank. Your breathy moans invaded his ears like a sweet song. Izuku had no idea what to do with his hands they were placed on either side of him on his bed. He felt too good to even begin to think about anything or any of his actions so without a single thought he wraps both his arms around your back and holds you close. Izuku can manage to cum untouched if that's what he wanted. There was no way he wasn't going to cum.

The way you breath fanned his ear and how you let little tiny mewls escape occasionally just felt like a gift from the gods above. He didn't know what to do with himself, his cock was pulsating and he felt the way his balls tightened. He was going to cum soon and he was going to cum hard. Izuku always came so much, not that you knew that, you were sure to make fun of him once you seen how he was about to blow his pants.

Izuku groans aloud before bucking his hips slowly up into your fast motions the rhythm was uneven but it still felt good nonetheless. The pleasure that was applied to your sensitive clit was divine. You felt so good and you could finally use him for the pleasure you yearned for.

"y/n... fu- fuck.. holy..-- shit! I'm- I'm cumming!!

He thrusted his hips up sharply before letting his thick hot cum paint his boxers. The warm feeling that came from how hard he had cum was so comforting it felt so good and pleasant to him he laid his head on your shoulder trying to catch his breath, to his surprise you weren't stopping anytime soon. His words had fallen onto dead ears, you heard him say your name and felt so good the rough rubbing of your clit against your panties was so good you just couldn't help but chase that feeling.

Izuku was getting overstimulated, little whines escaping his lips as he shook underneath you. He dug his nails into your shoulder which made you moan louder into his ear. It was so pornographic he was sure he got you straight out of a porn video. It was beginning to be too much for his cock, it was twitching uncontrollably and still leaking cum. He whined loudly into your ear before flipping the two of you over.

He was on top of you and buried his face back into the crook of your neck. Your eyes opened and looked up to the ceiling. He had taken that feeling away from you, you were getting rather frustrated and it was making you angry. You groan to yourself before moving your hand down to take off his shorts. You hooked your fingers into his waistband before he squeezed. He pulled back and looked down at you with lust filled eyes. Hid bottom lip was plump and swollen from how hard he had been biting it.

"are you.. are you sure you want to move forward with me? Like.. sexually?"

"i want to have sex with you izuku."

You say blantantly with little to no emotion laced in your voice. You were getting pissed and needed to feel something better than your fingers. They weren't satiating the insufferable inferno that burned inside of you. There was a fire and only his hot cum could put it out.

You shivered above you before nodding and letting you continue. You take his shorts off quickly and remove your underwear and shorts all together you didn't bother with shirts because who gives a fuck. You nodded up to him which gave him the okay to line up his red cock against your dripping hole. You didn't even give him a second to take in the sight of you. Your half naked body, he wanted to look at you went cunt so badly but he knew you needed to be around his cock more.

Izuku presses his tip to your hole and gently pushes in. He sucks in through his teeth as you wince, he stopped halfway afraid he had hurt you before you wrapped your legs around his waist and made his cock shive itself inside of you. He groaned loudly throwing his head back as you bit your lip with a guttered moan muffled due to the intense bite you had on your lower lip.

Izuku had read that sometimes women needed to adjust to the girth of thick cocks. Izuku wasn't all that big length wise but he knew he had girth, has own hand had a struggle fitting itself around his cock, he knew you'd have a problem taking it in. You did have a problem, but the stretch was so delicious you couldn't even feel the pain. It felt weird at first but soon the odd feeling turned into pleasure. You lift yourself onto your elbows and look up at him with your lip in between your teeth.

"fuck me zuku."

Izuku gulps and lowers himself down onto his elbows, your faces so close to each other he gave you a passionate kiss. Your lips glided against each others so beautifully it made him moan while he slowly moved in and out of your wet cunt. He groaned into the kiss due to the immense warmth of your cunt. It was like you were burning his cock off, and don't even get him started on the way you squeezed his cock. It's like you had a nice grip on him like you were trying to take his cock off. He couldn't help it, he was sure to cum again.

You grab into his shoulders and wrap your arms around his neck breaking the kiss. You close your eyes and take in the feeling of his slow motions. It felt so good.. but only for so long. Sooner or later you started getting quite impatient, izuku had gotten used to the slow pace but he wasnt all that used to the warmth of your cunt and the way you squeezed around his cock. If he went any faster he would cum on the spot. Not that he was afraid he wouldn't be able to get hard again because that want an issue he just didn't want to be lame for cumming too quickly.

Izuku leans his forehead against yours and lets out a gutteral groan, he was going to give you what you want no matter how sensitive he was. He pulled his cock full out before smashing back I to you his pelvis hitting against yours in such a rough and bruising manner. You scream out loud and bury your face in his neck drool escaping your open mouth it leaked down your lip and onto his shoulder.

Izuku tried to hold back his moans the best he could but when you started practically begging for him in his ear he couldn't contain the whines that left him slutty lips. They were so ethereal. The sound of him alone was alluring but the way his cock dragged against your velvety walls in a repeated motion was making you go dumb. Your eyes rolled back as your toes curled around his waist you choke on a moan and cum your brains out with no warning. The way you convulsed around his cock had his eyes crossing and his tongue lolling out of his mouth he came hard and fast inside of you, his thick warm cum shooting planks inside of you.

It took you a while to regain your composure and realize... Fuck. Not only did neither of you have a condom but he came INSIDE of you.

"for fucks sake.."

You whisper to yourself still holding onto the muscular body above you, he was tired and his body was spent but he made sure not to collapse on you. He didn't want to crush you!! Izuku gently laid himself down on top of you assuring tjay he didn't crush you with his weight, he laid his head on your chest and sighed in content.

You look down at him stressed out and already away from your high, you were freaking the fuck out! He came inside of you, you weren't on birth control, and you would literally have to get up and walk to the corner store with cum dripping out of you. Oh wait, there's more! It's after your curfew, you're not supposed to be in his dorm, and then on top of all that you're not supposed to leave campus. You were ultimately fucked but you weren't gonna let none of that stop you from assuring that you don't get pregnant.

You sigh heavily and play with his hair which instantly caught his attention, his eyes shot open and he turned his head to look up at you with those dumb big wide eyes of his. His eyebrows furrowed as he gave you a sideways smile which you returned with one that didn't meet your eyes. That just didn't sit right with him at all.

"you alright?"

He whispered up to you, he wanted both of your first times to be great but if you didn't enjoy yourself what was the point in any of this?

You open your mouth and close it again a couple of times before finding the right words and the right way to put this.

"...so, you came inside of me and it's after hours and we aren't supposed to leave campus and I'm not on birth control and I would have to walk to the store with cum dripping down my legs and then--"

"hey hey hey, it's okay.. I'll get the plan B for you.. okay? Calm down."

He hopped up on his knees and held you by your cheeks and craned your neck up to him. He missed your lips softly and held you in the sweetest way. You were his and he'd do anything for you, even risk getting detention.

"I'll be right back okay? I promise I won't be long. stay here and get comfortable, yeah? Take a shower as well if you'd like!"

He kisses your forehead once more before putting on clothes in a hurried motion and jumping out of his window. You smile to yourself and snuggle in deeper to the warmth of his bed, you look at his allmight themed pillow case and giggle. He was the most amazing dork there was and he was all yours.

AN: I'm making a "series" out of this. Like I'm gonna write down all of your firsts and even when you guys first got together. Now I have a lot of requests and a lot of part 2's that I was supposed to make but I promise promise promise. I'll try my hardest to get to this because I've never been so invested in a story before? What's wild is I made this too 💀

[white-poppie]

𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐋♡𝐕𝐄 — H.Shuji x reader

Synopsis: You are a small novelist, struggling for inspiration and ideas until you come across a charming gangster, called Hanma Shuji, who turns out to be your muse. Months later when your novel is published with him as the ML, the obsession only grows.

Pairing: Hanma Shuji x gn!author!reader Genre: YANDERE!, MAFIA! AU TW: crying, drinking, smoking, reader and Hanma both being twisted in the head, gore, Hanma being the sadist he is, hanma calls reader 'pretty' and 'doe', WC: 1.7K +

NOTE: I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT PROMOTE THIS KIND OF BEHAVIOUR. It is impractical scary and even gross. Violation of someone’s personal space/ life is not being romanticized in this post. Rather it is JUST A FICTIONAL TROUPE WITH FICTIONAL CHARACTERS.

A/N: Don't worry, its SFW!

Your grip is shaky, and tender as you gulp the bitter liquid down, it burns your throat in an ambrosial haze. It's as if your brain is barren with not a seed of creativity getting planted to fertilize into a bigger idea. You breathe a sob-sigh and sniffle, downing yourself in the liquid confidence.

You bury your face in your palms, and your elbows shake as you lean on the wooden counter. The music is loud and chaotic; it isn't a place for someone like you who spends most of her time, copped up in her mind, creating realms of her own as she writes.

You can't write. You can't write. You can't write. There have been no ideas, no inspirations, no random snippets of intense plotting and character-building...what will you do?

The neon lights dance on the yellowish-coloured tonic in your glass.

You hear the seat beside you being dragged. Your eyes fall towards the source of the sound, eyes meeting slender veiny hands, bejewelled with tattoos on their backs. A thick vein runs down his right hand to his elbow.

Your eyes gently trail upwards. His black long-sleeved turtleneck is rolled up to his elbows, his highlighted hair is neatly combed to one side, and then you look up at his long, chiselled face, sharp nose and dragon eyes...you realise he is already gazing at you with his lips turned into a soft smirk. You feel a sudden heat suffusing your cheeks. You try to avert your gaze, but his eyes have already captured yours and neither of you seem willing to let go. He continues to look into your eyes, and you feel yourself slipping away. You can savour the intensity of the moment, and it's almost electric. He tilts his head and asks, "What's a pretty angel like you doing crying in a place like this ?"

You breathe sharply and look away, averting your gaze from the handsome stranger, "just...going through things." You say.

He looks at you and nods, but he clearly isn't used to taking no for an answer. "Why spend your youth wallowing on the side, when you..." He raises his glass and points at the group of people huddled on the dance floor, "could be enjoying it on the stage instead."

You look at him in wonder...stage. William Shakespeare used it before: "The world is a stage and all men and women are players."

You blink and answer, "Why be the player when you can be the narrator?" You say softly, steering your eyes from the dance floor, back to him.

His eyebrows raised in delight at your words. He was used to people being scared of his appearance, his stature, his voice and tattoos. He just screamed 'danger' wherever he was. People talked to him for only a few reasons: for money, for partnership, for mercy or for him to warm their bed in such a way that he would ruin any other partners for them.

"Why be the player when you can be the narrator?" he says excitedly, "--when you can control the play from the sidelines." He says, adding his own twisted ideology to your personality-introducing a statement to him. It wasn't what you meant, but you didn't correct him. "You are an interesting one, you know?" he says and fetches a cigarette from his pocket and lights it, "you are one of the only people I've met who can keep a conversation dynamic." He grins with a wicked smirk, and you swear your heart hammers for him in a way that it has for no one.

"I didn't catch your name," you say softly.

"Hanma Shuji," he says with a proud smirk, "what's your name, pretty?" He asks.

"Y/N L/N," you say and ask again, curious about the man in front of you. You are never one for small talk, but there is just something so magnetic about him that you have to ask, "What do you do for a living, Hanma-san?"

"Just Hanma is okay," he corrects and sighs, a mischievous grin on his face, "I am a mob boss, have a big gang wrapped around my finger like fools." He studies your expression, "Did I scare ya? It's okay if you wanna leave, not gonna hold it against you or send my 'scary men' after you." He says exaggeratedly.

You blink blankly at him, studying his face. “I had my suspicions…got that vibe from you.” You say and pause, “But for some reason I am not scared.”

Hanma dissects your reply, drawing closer to you as he says quietly, his words heavy and menacing but like a siren's song, “You should be.”

“I should be,” you nod your head softly, “but I am not…"

Hanma studies your face with an unmoving stare. His breath trickles down your face, a gentle blend of cigarettes and mint. He looks at you as if he is remembering the exact proportions of your face.

"You intrigue me," he says and chuckles, "you still haven't told me why you were crying in a bar." He says and softly wipes the remaining tears from the corners of your eyes. For some reason, you don't feel revolted by this stranger's touch.

You shake your head and reply, "A writer loses all sense of the world when their mind is barren of inspiration. I was just looking for a push, I guess. But I was only met with a bottle of whiskey and more questions than answers. I can't help but feel like I'm in a never-ending cycle, blindly searching for an answer that I may never find. I'm stuck in my own head, unable to break free. I can't seem to find my way out. "

As Hanma hums, "So you're a writer, huh? Should have known by how eloquent you are." He's silent for a minute and then says, "Never was a book guy, sitting in one place just reading... it's too monotonous for an adrenaline junkie like me. In my teen years, I loved those twisted romances and thriller mangas." He chuckles in a way that makes you shiver.

You raise your eyebrow at him, "Dark romances, huh? Did they inspire you into becoming a mob boss?"

Hanma hisses with a faint smile on his face. "Not so loud, sweetheart." You chuckle and apologize.

"What do mob bosses do?" you ask curiously.

He crosses his arms and leans back. "What don't we do?" he replies. "Money laundering, smuggling, extortion, you know, the usual." He smiles, and you can see a hint of mischief in his eyes.

You can't help but smile at how nonchalant he is about it. You sense a darkish longing from both ends, like two poles of the magnet so close, just waiting for the right distance to be pulled close. It's like a course of warm ideas is injected into your brain. You can't help but feel drawn to him like he's the natural ending to your story.

It is interrupted by Hanma receiving a call. He picks up the phone and his expression immediately darkens. "I'll be there." He says and cuts the call and looks at you with longing and apology. He stands up, takes a deep breath and says, "I'm sorry, but I have to leave. I'll keep an eye on you." He takes one last look at you before turning to leave.

"I found my muse..." you mutter to yourself as you see him leave.

[1 year later]

And he meant that. He meant when he said 'I'll keep an eye on you.' He was a mob boss, so it was easy for him to find your whereabouts and know everything about you. It almost seemed like he didn't want to hide his presence from you. However, you for some odd reason didn't mind this man spying on your life; it made you excited.

By this time you had completely researched his life, persona, crimes, and remembered them like a textbook. Multiple articles of his gang's works were pasted on your apartment walls along with letters in front of your apartment. These letters had no sender or address, but the cologne smell was him. You pinned the letters to your walls, sighing and reading them multiple times a day, knowing he was watching you all the time.

You smiled softly, signing your book 'Ghastly Love' in the author convention. Having been acclaimed as one of the bestselling dark romances on booktok and bookstagram, you were elated to have met Hanma Shuji that night...the man who inspired you to write a book. You had never met him for a year. However, you felt his presence, his gaze and the imaginary version of him you created in your head.

Another happy fan comes and you sign the book for them. Multiple people praise your writing, but it feels so empty. The convention ends and everyone leaves. Everyone is wrapping up when one last fan comes.

I'm sorry I can't do anything. My train got late." He says, drawing your attention as the security guards push him away and all the other writers stare at him.

"Come on I just want Y/N L/N's sign. I've travelled far for this, I'll leave in 5 minutes." He says and you chuckle.

"Let him in," you say and smile, impressed by this fan's dedication. He walks confidently towards you

You look up and smile at another person, he is taller than the rest, your hands are ready to sign the book when you spot the familiar tattoo on his hand...Hanma.

A shocked gasp escapes your throat as you look up at him, your eyes watering. He lowers his mask and smirks. "Hey doe." He says, calling you the name your ML called your FL in the novel. "You've become quite famous over the past few months, yeah? But let me tell you, the guy you wrote about in your novel is nothing. This right here, in front of you is the real deal." He smirks.

You sob and hug him tightly. You had him now...and you wouldn't let him go. He was your muse, after all. Suddenly, he pulls away and looks deeply into your eyes. He whispers, "So freaking proud of ya'." He says and kisses you.

'Dedicated to the handsome stranger I found in the bar that night. Thank you for being my muse; I highly anticipate meeting you again, and this time I won't let you go."

DID YALL KNOW IVE WRITTEN A BOOK LIKE Y/N TOO?!?! Of Vengeance and Ashes” -> BUY NOW!!!! I am a 15-year-old author who needs support, I assure you it won't disappoint! It's okay if you don't buy, it would be enough to share the link with someone else who might be interested! I humbly request you support my career as a child author by purchasing my book. This would help me to write more books in future.

Also Check out: L'appel du vide (✔️) (Synopsis: Your husband, Hanma Shuji is dead! With no memories of what transpired two days before his death, you team up with Tachibana Naoto, Chifuyu Matsuno, Ryuguji Ken and Mitsuya Takashi, you go on a journey full of betrayals and twists. Can you find out what really happened to your husband? )

© white-poppie 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, or translate without permission. do not claim work or layout as yours.

— TOKYO REVENGERS - Fanfictions

TAGS: @akumicchi, @denkis111, @jazzylove, @lordmypantsaresocool, @futuristicallykawaiiturtle, @kristaline2dmensimp, @rintaroubby @nanaseishiro @cleaningfairylevi, @buttercupspotify

PPL WHO ASKED TO BE TAGGED IN THIS FIC (temp tags, lemme know if you wanna be added to my permanent taglist): @shujivenus, @soulhasshattered

﹒ Taglist  ﹒

[jongshiftz]

# stuff to script - idol life.

… you're not stressed before performing/award shows.

… you always know how to answer questions given by interviewers.

… you always know how to pose for pictures.

… you never embarass yourself on stage.

… you fit all concepts well.

… you are a good mc.

… you can freestyle (dance or rap) well.

… your aegyo isn't cringey.

… your voice doesn't crack on stage.

… you hit high notes easily.

… you hairstyle stays perfect while performing.

… you're not a "lazy" dancer.

… you're immune to clothing malfunctions while performing (like buttons unbuttonning, zippers spoiling, shoelaces untying).

… you write good apologies (in case you get in some scandal idk 😭).

… you give good speeches (for e.g. on award shows).

… you always understand rules of games on variety shows/your group's episodes (I RARELY UNDERSTAND THESE 😭😭).

long time no see lol anyway i'm back with another shifting post, hope y’all enjoy! happy shifting ml 😋

[hwaightme]

Your fan, San (part 2)

(part 1) (your fan ml)

💬 pairing: san x interpreter!reader 💬 genre: romance, fluff, mutual pining, drama 💬 summary: a bulletpoint-style wordstream of what it would be like if san was stanning you 💬 wordcount: 4.5k 💬 warnings/tags: language, conflict, two shy dorks, homie sabotage?, misunderstandings, love above all, touring, busy life, reader is a pro linguist, we stan simpteez, unedited oop- 💬 taglist: @acciocriativity, @doom-fics, @layzfeelit @jcngh0-hq @black--awsum @honey-lemon-goose @i-luvsang @jackinmyarea , @izuijin @justhere4kpop 💬 a/n: Hello there <3 here is PART 2 of YOUR FAN SAN!! Hopeless romantic? Check. Chaotic? Check... and the FINALE is coming soon??? ;~; P.S. that uni life do be getting wild so apologies if I'll be haphazardly uploading or if trains of thought are derailed~

'The Beauty of Falling in Love - a collection of short stories, poems and musings'

That was the title of the book you had to translate. And if you were not a (fully) sappy and sentimental mess before, you sure as hell were now. Because each little chapter, be it an anonymous recollection of favourite moments with a loved one, or a vignette dedicated to someone special, was some of the most heartwarming work you have ever read.

Each piece sounded so personal, so real, that you found yourself spending more time than usual on this commission. You had made an agreement with the client that they would be sending chapters out one by one, and prior to receiving one, you would send back a completed translation.

It was an easy enough arrangement, and was not too taxing when it came to your personal time. You could ruin your sleep schedule to your heart's content by watching dramas that you had missed whilst on tour, could make late night trips to the convenience store because you did not want to be caught in the businessperson rush, could catch up with people who you had inadvertently ghosted because of work and inability to find words when you wanted to.

Outside of your preferred mode of relaxation, you kept in touch with some of the members of ATEEZ, thanks to a group chat that San had created and 'simply had to add you' - at least that was how he had advertised it. The group chat consisted of him, you, Wooyoung, Yunho and Yeosang, who to you seemed like a random pick, since you did not interact with neither Yunho nor Yeosang as much.

But over a very short period of time this had changed for the better, and you had grown very comfortable, attached even, to the chaotic quartet. If anything this it was a top up vaccine for being able to keep up with the ATEEZ chaos - otherwise you would be familiarising yourself with it again for tour, as if it was the first day of work.

Little did you know, you were talking with the Operation ring leaders + Yeosang who was in it for the gossip, and to control the fire... in the way he wished. It was more or less a regular conversation, aside from San occasionally panicking and running up to one of the guys for advice.

"Yeo why did you write 'AMOGUS'?"

"Don't question me. This is art- ah see, Y/N sent the prayer hands emoji, she agrees." Yeosang responded, pointing at his phone screen.

"I feel like you guys are six parallel universes ahead of me and I don't like it."

"Make that ten, you boomer."

"This is an ancient meme you are quoting Yeo~" Wooyoung joined in, trying to poke fun at his friend.

"Say that again, the king of social boomers? Are you salty that I did not put hyung after AMOGUS because it's old?"

"What even is this chat-" Mingi, who was observing from his position lying across three dining chairs, threw the question out into the air.

"It is us trying to force San to dm Y/N by pushing them together like two dolls." Wooyoung, slightly irritated, explained.

"Man, you really are done." Mingi responded, chuckling

"I don't know, am I? San is breaking up with me so I am going through all stages of grief."

"Double u tee eff?" San raised an eyebrow and stared at Wooyoung, phone loose in his hands.

"How far along is she?"

"She isn't pregnant dude."

"Ugh you know what I mean."

"Like... a third of the way?"

"Damn you guys are slow as shit. We planned for this to take how long? You even have the confession already written up for the last chapter, this is kind of ridiculous. You know what, hold up."

Wooyoung tackled San, and thanks to the surprise nature of the attack, got the perfect opportunity to grab his friend's phone. After securing 'the bag', Wooyoung strode off to the other side of the room, clicking away, while San attempted to stand up, shouting.

Yunho seemed to have caught onto what the other was about to do, as he launched himself at the shorter man sat on the sofa and splayed himself right over like a blanket.

"No hard feelings bro this is necessary."

As San way trying to battle his way out, but was further restrained by Yeosang who had finally stopped taking photos, Wooyoung giggled deviously and locked the phone again, sauntering back with a devilish grin and handing it to San.

"It is done. You can thank me later."

"What did you do?"

"Something that you should have done like... a year ago."

"DID YOU TEXT HER?"

"Yeah. And don't worry, nothing Woo-style, you grilled me enough times for me to remember her preferences. Plus, I know how to text like you."

"And when did that come in handy?"

"Uh... I have to go water my fish BYEEE~" Wooyoung quickly departed from the living room sprinting back to the dorm, while San remained in shock, swiping at the screen to reveal the message that his friend had sent on his behalf.

Damn. It really was just like him.

The text came to you as a surprise. Though you have had some conversations over private message before, most of them had been in some way work related. Not San messaging you out of the blue to ask how you were and that you should catch up.

With the group chat all but abandoned, you happily launched into texting San. There was never any pressure for a phone call, which you greatly appreciated, and there was no specific guidelines that either of you enforced - without a care you double, triple, quadruple texted, abruptly disappeared only to reappear with a link or a photo... main things was that together, you kept your conversation alive and thriving.

You would have never, not in a million years, imagined yourself getting this close to San, or anyone with a celebrity status for that matter. Simply because you felt like they would need and deserve more than you could offer socially. You were all about human connection and uniting minds, but when it came to your own personal preferences, you would much rather write out your thoughts in astonishing detail and hit send, than say the same things out loud and to somebody in person.

And yet, contrary to your assumptions and what you could only say had been prejudice on your part, San was supportive of you and of your choices, saying he could 'imagine your voice well enough anyways'. He steered clear of pushing you to communicate in a style that was not yours; though you did enjoy hearing his voice, and would be lying if you said he was not a charmer, you could not bring yourself to reciprocate that approach. It was too overwhelming to do during the time that you had allocated for yourself as your regenerative state. And San made your heart melt by showing that he got that, without you having to tear yourself apart and explain.

To him it had been fairly easy to figure out that you were a text over call kind of person, and was something that he had advertised to the Operation Love Language squad. Given your notes app being packed, post it notes sometimes threatening to pour out of your bag, and him spotting you willingly sitting far away from any groups so you could watch something, earphones in, all pointed to that conclusion. And San found that he liked it more than he would have guessed.

Each text was like a memory, and an expression not only of something that they wanted to blurt out, but more often than not of a considered, weighed out opinion, even if it was onomatopoeia or a string of emojis. He would have never been able to get to know you like he did over text, and get so close to you that you were now happily discussing with him your own worries, and passions, and dreams, not just responding to his stream of musings and questions.

It was through one of these extensive texting sessions that you had revealed to San your endeavors as a freelance translator, and gushed about the commission you were working on.

This made San's thumbs freeze midway through typing. Carried away and impatient, he had tried to strike on all fronts, and now that he was in continuous communication with you, he regretted it. Deeply. Except he did not yet know just how risky the decision to parade as someone he was not could be.

After the first time you had mentioned your side work, he had begun to get progressively more quiet. Bit by bit. Until his responses to you turned almost into a conversation with a wall. You were unable to figure out just what had gotten into San, what had changed?

You turned to the work you were meant to translate as a distraction, expecting that the client would have shared the new chapter with you already... but no such thing.

Instead, there was an order cancellation, and a short apology.

What did you do wrong?

What happened?

Was there something that had not been quite right?

You looked over your already completed translations - you were searching for anything to suggest a reason for cancellation. The words appeared blurry, fading into one big mush. It was all terrible... wasn't it?

Who were you kidding you were probably rusty after not working with fiction for so long, and for not focusing hard enough. You had stopped paying attention to the craft. Who even were you? And interpreter, a translator, or a fraud?

You looked at the cancellation email again, knowing full well that it was pointless to try and reach the customer - they might have blocked you for all you knew. This hurt. This really hurt.

You saw that San had responded to your messages, again in a weirdly cheery tone, asking you how you are and what you have been up to? San would understand... right? San would listen to you...?

So you did something that you yourself did not expect, and pressed on the call button. He picked up on the first ring.

He sounded nervous, and almost tearful as you bared all and talked him through what had just happened. You needed him. He was the only one who had understood your language.

When you told him that you were probably over reacting and just humiliating yourself by being 'so deep in sad mode' over a whole lot of nothing, he instantly was there to catch you and call you out. He emphasised the importance of your work, of the beautiful job you had done so far... but then halted, unsure of how to proceed.

This left you confused. He then picked his words in a strangely careful manner, and almost beginning to side with the customer, saying how maybe it was for the better, and that now at least you could relax and find another project...

"San. This is really unlike you. What is up with that personality switch?"

"What do you mean Y/N? It's nothing-"

"I have an ear for speech, San, if there is anyone who could be a bullshit filter, it is me."

Silence.

More silence.

You were about to call out to him again, when you hear a muffled, barely there whisper:

"I'm sorry..."

You were sent reeling. What did he mean? Why was he sorry?

"I... it was me. Y/N. I am sorry. I really did not mean it to turn out that way I-"

"Okay first of all, why?"

"I..."

"Second of all, whilst I am grateful for your support and stuff, it does make me uncomfortable."

"I'm-"

"Thirdly, actually you know what focus on point number one."

When you did not hear an answer, you tried again: "Hello? I am waiting."

"I like you."

"...What?" you were left in shock.

You had suppressed your feelings for San in the deepest caverns of your soul out of the terror that it was bound to be unrequited, but here you were. Listening to that same man who had supported you from the beginning of your career to now (and exposing yet another ridiculous attempt at that), who had read your quirks and style and knew you better than most. Listening to him confess.

"I... how do I say this... it has been a while. A long while. I have been trying to approach you but... I was either too shy for it, or the attempts were just ridiculous. So we- so I came up with this idea, to try and tell you... this book right. The Beauty of Falling in Love. It is... it spoke to me. And I had planned to give it to you piece by piece until I could then reveal myself to you... but then we started talking outside of that and then I panicked and- yeah, I am... I am just so sorry, this is confusing as hell."

"Wait... wait wait... this is... so were you paying me to get me to like you? Was that what you were doing?"

"GOSH! NO! NO, DON'T MISUNDERSTAND!"

"Look. As much as I do like bringing joy to people through my work, this crosses a line. And it's not the fact that you ordered something from me - hell, support the artist right? It's the fact that you decided to be somebody else. You decided to conceal yourself to talk to me. Like you did not trust me. Even though you want me to like you.

I'll be returning the money to you shortly. M-kay? And... talk on stage, I guess."

Before San could respond, you ended the call sharply. No more phone calls. They were cursed, apparently.

With these thoughts, and a heavy heart, you departed for Japan.

---

"Maybe... just maybe if you had seen it through and not abandoned ship... your ship could have sailed?"

"Yunho just because it's your idea does not mean is good!" San retorted, having recounted the story to the members, gone into full crisis mode.

"Hello!? You agreed? I am just generating ideas here."

"I think we all blew this out of proportion and did not consider risks... at all." Mingi interjected, massaging his temples.

"You guys, I have an idea-" Wooyoung began, but was quickly cut off by San, who was already half way out of the door.

"You know what? I am done with the ideas. I will just do what I think is right."

---

You were conflicted. In a way, you had gotten what you wanted. A confession from your crush that you had been quietly keeping in the shadows. But at the same time, your anxiety spiked. Were you that unapproachable that San had to have twisted everything to get to you? Was your work more entertaining than you could ever be?

With these thoughts, and a heavy heart, you departed for Japan.

If your presence was not explicitly required at the venue, you would not go. Once an event ended, you would leave. If anything, you were acting just like any employee would.

You were trying to bury the conflicting feelings that you were experiencing. To an extent, you felt disrespected. Like you had been mistreated via the means of 'i am using your translation services so you should love me'. And it was one unpleasant thought.

So, you stuck to what you knew and were more or less confident in. Words that were not yours. ideas that were not yours. Feelings that were not yours.

In a matter of an hour after the first small event, however, you could not sulk in your room how you wanted, thanks to a random slip of paper being shoved under your door. You ran across the room and slammed it open in an attempt to catch the culprit, but there was no one in sight.

You gingerly picked up the papers, and read. It was unmistakable. It was the next chapter of the book, with an interesting translation on another sheet of paper, and an additional note.

"I am sorry, and I can only hope that you will read this and let me fight. <3 San"

As much as you were ready to forgive him then and there, you decided that you wanted to see just how far he was going to go.

The next morning - another letter had arrived. The next chapter, a translation, and another note.

During filming for a morning show, San had shot you numerous glances in an attempt to see whether you were even reading what he had been Amazon Priming to your room, but with a cheeky smile dancing on your lips, you let your fun continue.

Another package.

And another.

And another. Until, finally, the last chapter had arrived. At least that was what you thought right up until the evening of the same day. You had assumed that it was going to now be your turn to act, or at least to start talking again, but a loud knock jolted you out of your thoughts.

And another.

And another knock on the door. This man was an unstoppable force.

"I... I translated the last one. Well, tried to."

"But there were only eleven stories-"

"Nope, twelve. Here."

You saw a two pieces of paper appear from under the door, just like before. Except instead of the Korean page being a scan from the book, it was evidently a document that either San... or somebody else, had typed up, and then managed to print.

To be respectful, you attempted to read the Japanese, but soon enough gave up since the kanji somehow managed to look cursive, and instead took the Korean text in your hands.

You took a seat with your back against the door and knees almost flush against your chest, and began to read, your heart rate picking up pace as soon as you saw "Dear Y/N,".

It began as a little story. A re-telling of how both of you had met, and how you had come to own a little space in his heart, eventually leading to him simply giving it to you.

"Did you know that you look so beautiful in those moments when you don't think anyone is watching? The more I think about it, the more I feel like it has been what had drawn me in. How you typed and typed on your phone. If time allowed, I liked to try guessing whether you were going to switch the keyboard at some point or not. How you were and are in your element. And of course, how you are, simply, you."

He recalled the moments that you two had shared. The levels of pride and admiration he felt when he saw you being approached and congratulated by the fans, and when he could take a moment to just enjoy what you did.

San moved to explaining 'the plan' to you, and though you were ready to scold him then and there (especially since there was the door between you that made confrontation easier), you could not help but admit that the general notion (aside from making affection and crushing on someone a monetary exchange - better not put feels on Etsy) was heartwarming.

As it turned out, both of you were shy dorks who could not act on feelings. Admittedly, one of you was a LOUD shy dork and the other a 'language is life but still can't read between the lines' shy dork, but at least you made it here.

San was a nervous wreck, barely stopping himself from either pacing up and down the corridor or going into a meltdown and lying face down on the carpet. He already looked suspicious enough as is, just standing by a random hotel number like a vampire who had been refused entry.

Or perhaps more accurately, like a cat who had been shut out of the house and was now desperately trying to claw its way back in.

But that stress was quickly washed away when your form suddenly appeared before him, peeking out, drowning in an oversized hoodie. The papers were still clenched in your hand as you motioned for San to come in.

You waited until he was right in the middle of the room before closing the door. Part of you was afraid that he was going to nope out at any moment. You needed the reassurance. The confidence that was normally there when you were working. But every fiber of your being was screaming in protest, wanting simply to hide.

You observed him. He looked like he was barely breathing.

"I... really I am... so sorry... again... I know that it was so fooli-"

"私でもあなたのことが好きだ..." (I like you too)

"eXCUSEME?!"

"All this translating and you still can't process?" you joked, but began to pull on the drawstrings of your hoodie in an attempt to make your face disappear.

"ohHH NoONOOO I just want to hear you say it in every language that you know!!!" San exclaimed and in a matter of seconds was inches away, peeking at what was not yet concealed by the fluffy cotton.

As he leaned closer and closer, flustering you (and himself) in the process and took both of your hands in his, in the last leap of bravery you whispered:

"Well that, you'll have to earn, San. And I don't take traditional currency."

"You will never let that go."

"Never ever, Choi San, it's a core memory now."

"Well hey at least it means you are not letting go of me~"

"Oh the way you twist words..."

"Like you twist me around your finger, not to give you an ego trip or anything..."

"It's 'wrap'. The correct word is 'wrap' around a finger."

"Okay you know what how about I translate it to body language?" he puckered his lips, making you giggle.

"As long as I don't need to correct grammatical errors."

"Now now I'd say I'm fluent."

--

The habit of sliding notes under your door or passing them to you did not stop - it only got stronger and became an 'any location', Mission Impossible note transfer agreement.

It had become something of a game, muddling languages together and writing near-nonsense just to sit there almost crying, trying not to laugh.

Soon enough, the game spread to Wooyoung, who would on occasion intercept the messages and add in his own flair, and soon enough to a curious Yunho and Mingi, who then turned it into impromptu paper plane throwing tournaments.

Really, the only reason why Hongjoong did not intercept was because you managed to at least keep the messages under strict PG rating and had good aim - with a saving swoop you had managed to return one such airmail right into San's lap during a fan sign, leading ATINY to give you an additional "aimbot" title.

It did not matter what the schedule was, you left each other encouraging notes (and without the other knowing, stored them away in your luggage).

"Good luck being the first one to get hair and makeup done..."

"Good luck with the translation deal on the book <3" (after an entire evening of a pouting and pleading San, you had reached out to the editors of the romance book you had translated for him, and now were in very promising negotiations)

You raced ahead, in time with each other, creating your own language.

The extended time ATEEZ had spent in Japan was coming to an end, and in the blink of an eye, it was the final concert. The "closing remarks", the epilogue.

You were prepared to interpret in full, as always. One member down. Another... finally, it was only San left. The other members were looking at him expectantly, while some sent glances in your approximate direction.

You took Hongjoong's tranquility and him nudging San in the shoulder as a sign that no, you will not have to pretend he said something different and double speak it - whatever he was about to do was, apparently, captain certified.

At that moment, San pulled out a note from a pocket that you had no idea even existed. The action seemed to have the same effect on ATINY as they "oooohed" - Yunho fake whispered into the microphone that San was now a part-time magician, so these things were the norm.

You had your microphone at the ready. With bated breath, you waited for San to begin. And that, he did.

In Japanese.

Grammatically correct, coherent and well-delivered Japanese.

Even though some of the phrases were obviously not his style and word selection, leading you to imagine him poring over this text like he was writing the declaration of independence with the boys, it was him. It was his feeling. It was his message.

Your arm fell to your side with a thud, and you were grateful that your microphone had been turned off for the time being. You caught yourself gaping, and had to forcibly compose yourself to reveal only a soft smile, as you took the scene in.

San was not exactly trying to hide that he was paying special attention to a specific part of the arena, with his body turned almost completely in your direction and only a few glances off to the sides and at the note.

"...and I hope that we will always be together, as one, and share this world. sometimes there may be struggle, there may be darkness, but WE," he makes a grand gesture with his hand, as if highlighting the area in front of him, but really it was just to, again, symbolise that certain someone at the forefront of his mind, "will last, and be the light."

The crowd roared, and you could allow yourself to internally combust as you watched ATEEZ wave, bow and bid their farewells.

Some things did not need a translation to be understood, and some things were not up for interpretation.

Like how San sprinted to you as soon as he was out of public sight. How he swept you off your feet both literally and metaphorically.

How Jongho muttered 'get a room', but still smiled at both of you when he passed by.

How, upon your return to South Korea, he had practically made it his mission to dote on you, and any moment he got, show that you were together.

Matching plushies? Check.

Basically exposing you both on Late Night Dive (though there was not really anything to expose because the entire ordeal was almost a live streamed ATEEZ drama)? Check.

Happily chatting away with ATINY about love and about finding it, sending loving stares your way? Check.

This was the love language you shared. No hiding, no scheming. Two native speakers, who found each other in translation.

[tmwcs]

Mermaids Tale - Chapter 1

Alright here we go. First chapter of Mermaids Tale, I think i already mentioned but this story deserves a better title, but we'll stick with it for the sake of ceasing any confusion.

As mentioned in my latest post, I'm adjusting the ML to post the whole storyline of MT, I must...its really quite good and when you read the buildup and the history of the characters, its good. For those of you that want just the good stuff, i'll post ONE chapter of the first smut encounter, just one. This story has alot of smut, among other genres. So there will the best of both worlds here.

Pairings: Heeseung and you

Warnings: Not a whole lot. Mentions of nudity but that's about it.

Summary: Noooooooooooooo....just know, that MT Heeseung is really...sexy. This storyline contains a cat and mouse chase type of thing going on. Lots of hunter and fleeing prey vibes.

Side note, i think they finally fixed my tumblr because posting is alot less of a pain. Seriously, the chapters i've posted so far for each series, some of the grammar errors and structure errors are bc this thing would not let me copy and paste, i had to like re-write each paragraph into the box as i was looking at the draft. So there may have been alot of typos and stupid mistakes in those, apologies.

The sound of the busy city buzzes in your ears as you monopolize through the crowds.

Passing by a line of shops and rows of canopy tents of casual eatery, you keep a hollow face as you remain hidden beneath the bill of your hat. You strut through, strategically making way towards the path of a shorter route leading to your home.

Your hair lays bundled up under your headpiece, eyes remain forward under the hovering cloth, and your body’s form, out of sight and beneath a large sweatshirt. The lengthy shape of your legs made out by the fitted jeans that cover them, and the slight exposure of soft skin on your forearms, revealed by slightly rolled sleeves, remain as your sole identifiable features that are seen.

Carrying out your habitual trend of hiding beneath cloth, and shadow when traveling hasn’t been the most pleasant routine.

However, throughout the course of events in earlier years, you’ve learned and been warned of, the dangers against you. For each time you leave shelter, you place yourself at risk of exposing yourself and suffering the unimaginable, putting an end to your bloodline.

The fate of your bloodline, as mentioned, solely relies on you. Carrying the task of preserving it comes with dire responsibilities and measures, something that you have been doing for many years, yet still haven’t grown entirely used to.

You turn around a corner leading into a marketplace alley. It’s a shortcut you normally take to get back home, saving you a half hour from walking among crowds, which never made you feel easy. Not after you learned of your secret.

The moment you projected the turn, the owner of one of the food tents accidently bumps into you, as he was making his way to customers bringing them hot jasmine tea.

His body was forced back from the impact, as was yours. The ceramic dishes that were neatly staged on the platter fall and shatter on the stone tile. The young man peeks up through recovered squinted eyes and sees that the contents of the teapot had sullied your entire sleeve.

Noticing the color of the material becoming darker from the splash, his face grew into great concern when he saw the skin on your arm glisten at the reflection of a nearby streetlight.

The vapors emerging from your arm are noticeable, as well as the blotches of the bright red shade that takes over the natural hue of your pigment, and the stunning glow you were born with.

He begins apologizing theatrically and calls out to the neighboring canopy owners.

A group of elderly shop owners come to attend to the wound on your arm, suppressing the discoloration with wet cloths and ice. One woman runs back inside her boutique to find a first aid kit, while the others remain in a frenzy as they place effort into treating the burn.

But there was no burn, at least in a somatosensory manner, not visually.

You reassure them that you’re fine, despite their urging in taking you to a hospital. You softly shake your head and thanked them for their care, you further your efforts in convincing them by smiling and waving, appearing as jovial as possible while you continue your way through the alley.

As a child, you didn’t realize that your inability to feel physical touch, vibration, or any sensation for that matter, was really something to be concerned of. Truth be told, you still don’t. In fact, you prefer it that way. Regardless of countless moments where teachers, friends, and family all grew concern over your “defect”, you personally found it convenient.

You would be lying to yourself if you deny ever being curious on what it is like, to feel temperature, roughness, pressure, tickle, itch, pain, pleasure, cloth, skin, and tingle. But you realize that whatever it was that you were missing, you couldn’t possibly be yearning for it if you’ve never experienced it. As depressing that may sound, your “defect” saved yourself the emotional traumas of pain and sadness, which is something you had no problems feeling.

It started when you were six, after your dog Lucy had passed away. You were sad because you missed her greeting you, the way she kept you company and played outside, and the sound of her adorable whines whenever she wanted a doggy treat. You developed a bond with her out of pure emotion because the times that she licked your face, when you pet and rubbed her ears or her belly, or when you held her in your arms, it wasn’t possible to develop any fondness out of the physical compassions of love for her. You never felt it.  Which somehow, you believe, may have placed limitations on the strength of your bond with her. Since everything you felt was out of pure emotion, the number of traits that would cause your grief was limited, therefore you were able to accept her loss much faster.

There were other times too, like the moments where your friends would experience a broken heart or betrayal at the discretion of a loved one. Events such as this is what made you the most grateful. After witnessing the times when a dear friend would come to you for comfort, shattered by the hands of a man who used and abandoned her, you came to understand that the degree of her sadness and heartbreak was enhanced due to her physical relation with that man. Thankfully for you, you could only imagine, not that you would.

You found it very disturbing that regardless of how many times your friend had experienced the ruthless abandonment of her lover, all conducted after a session of sexual intimacy. No matter how many times he left her, she would always welcome him back with open arms, enabling him to do it all over again. Whenever you had asked her why she would even permit herself to let him in again, her response was the sealant of any curious thought you had in the sense of touch.

“I know he’s going to leave, and I wasn’t going to. But then he kissed and hugged me, and I just couldn’t help it, I needed to feel him again. Have you ever gone without sex for weeks Y/N? Its brutal! I got desperate.”

Her words drifted through your brain. What would she have said if you had divulged the fact that, regardless of you being 109 years old, you never had sex. You heard from friends you made along the way of their experiences, and quite frankly, it never appealed to you. It may just be one of those moments where the coined term “you had to have been there” applies heavily to it, which of course, wouldn’t matter for you. The loss of the sense wasn’t just limited to your skin, it was internal as well. You recall the time when you nearly had a close call in exposing your secret.

It was while you were with a group of co-workers, the lot of you all deciding to have lunch at a sushi bar. A moment of carelessness resulted in everyone being confused when the waiter brought out the tea and poured it into each of your cups. You were the first to drink, and upon noticing you sipping from your cup, a fellow co-worker across follows suit and takes a sip.

The sound of the cutlery clashing, the blood curling scream, and smaller dishes shattering on the floor, overfilled the entire restaurant as she jumped up and covered her mouth. The tears streamed down her face as she shouts for ice and water, the remaining group stood off to the side with puzzling looks.

“Too hot! My mouth is burning!”

She panicked as her mouth begin to blister and her lips turned red.

“Why didn’t you let it cool down?”

“I thought it was already cooled down! I saw Y/N drink from her cup, so I thought it was okay!”

The poor girl exhausting her sobbing words as she popped ice cubes in her mouth, desperately trying to relieve herself from the burn.

The group looked your way, they also noticed your lips were bright red, and now that you think about it, you may have had blisters in your mouth as well, but how were you to know?

You played off that whole experience by telling them that you had a damaged nerve syndrome. That’s been your go-to excuse for as long as you could remember, there was no other way other logic that you could use for moments like that one.

You finally make it to your apartment.

Looking down at your arm, you noticed the redness was beginning to swell a bit, ironic that you couldn’t feel the pain from injuries such as this, yet you were susceptible to the damage it would cause. Everything has its ups and downs you suppose.

Migrating to your bedroom, you glanced over to the all the vintage photos of your mother, father, and your siblings.

Managing life by changing your name every decade, relocating, and cutting off ties with friendly relations after a certain amount of time had passed, it wasn’t easy for you to succumb to emotional moments of loneliness. Your life was always moving, nothing was constant or stable, at least not for too long. The only time when you would feel saddened was whenever you looked at the photos of your family, who have all been passed away for years already. The remaining relatives you had from your brother and his wife, your cousins, nieces, and nephews fully remain unaware of your existence, there was no way you could explain that, while they were significantly younger, your appearance had remained unchanged since the year you turned 22. The moment you blossomed into a young woman, no longer having the pre-mature attributes of a girl, you were at your true feminine form and had remained as such. Just like your mother.

A flashback drives past your mind for a moment, you remembered it so vividly.

“Y/n, do you want to join us? We’re doing game night.”

Your younger brother implores you to join, and normally you would, but tonight was different.

“No thanks Matthew, I want to go out for a night walk on the beach. Tell mom and dad I’ll be back after a bit.”

“Are you sure? Do you want me to come with? I don’t think mom likes it when you go out by yourself, remember? She said that a 15-year-old girl should never be out on her own in an unfamiliar place.”

“I’ll be fine, this is private property, and the beach is just right across from the house. I’ll be back in an hour.”

At that, you left the old beach rental your family reserved for the trip to Greece. It was your first time there and it became your favorite place in the world. There was something about the land and the Aegean Sea that surrounded it. It gave you a feeling of familiarity, the same sense someone would get when they go home for the first time in many years. It was nostalgic. Yet, that wasn’t the only thing that made you feel sentimental.

You didn’t know why, but up until that year you pondered the puzzling fact that, while your defect inhibited you to feel physically, there was something about the ocean that contradicted that.

You had found out about it initially when you were 7-years old, your family took a trip to a beach nearby home. The hot sand was too much for your family, and they knew it wouldn’t affect you since the family doctor was the one that initially told your parents of your “nerve damage”.

Despite hearing their calls to you, bidding you to stay put with them, you ignored their yells and ran to the shallow waters. It was the first time you had ever seen the ocean, and you were attracted to its appeal the way magnets attract iron.

With your feet stepping into the water, you were shocked to realize that there was something transpiring. There was a sensation that you’ve never experienced before, and you didn’t know what to call it. Looking back, you know now that it was the temperature of the water. Yes, the temperature. Not only that, but the swirling whirlpool swishing around your ankles, the wet sand riding in between your toes, the jagged tips and points of rocks and seashells, and the feel of the gravitational pull as the water receded, only to return at your feet once more when another rolling wave had hit.

For the first time, you had felt the powerful sense of touch.

You never mentioned the experience to your family, there wasn’t any particular reason, you just felt content that you were able to experience the sensation for once. But you quickly realized that your ability to feel only occurred when you were in the water. The ocean waters.

You exit through the back kitchen door, skipping towards the shallow waves. The rental was just far enough from the water, a single person such as yourself walking amongst the wet sands couldn’t be seen easily at night. But you weren’t concerned at all, there was absolutely no one in sight and that’s how you preferred it, because now you’ll be able to freely express your joy once you reach the shallow waves.  

The moment the water rushed over your skin; you rediscover the sense of touch once more.

Of all things in this earth for you to feel, you were eternally grateful that it was the ocean. You felt as equally grateful as you breached the waters belonging to the beautiful Aegean Sea. It was the first time you get to experience water that was foreign, exotic, and mystical, much different than the local beaches back home.  

Before placing our feet in, you took a second to watch the bubbles of the sea foam riding the waves. It was so pretty to look at. The foam resembled white clouds as the bubbles looked like crystals, reflecting twinkles of glistening light reflected by the moon. Assorted pastel color prisms coated each bubble as you watched them roll back into the sea for the next wave.  

You walk along the shallow end, kicking your feet to create small splashes as you twirl in your summer dress. Apart from the sense of touch, nothing ever changed your experience in the water, up until a feeling hit you. It was a sensation you didn’t recall feeling in the water before, but it stung with a vengeance. You couldn’t put your finger on what was happening, but you knew based off your recollections of witnessing similar reactions with other people, the sensation you felt was the first in your life.

Pain.

The overwhelming reaction of having to feel pain for the first time caused you to collapse, the stinging sensation grew worse. You panicked. Unable to fathom what was going on, your mind tried to process at the sensation you were succumbing to. Drowning with confusion and fear, you realized that, unlike the waters back home, there was something about the waters belonging to the Aegean Sea, and your body was reacting to it.

Fear and shock took over your emotional senses, covering the unpleasant sense of physical pain as legs grew weak, too weak.

The stinging hit every inch of your legs from the hip down, and for a moment you wondered if you had been stung by jellyfish or perhaps bitten by a poisonous sea snake.

To your horror, you screamed as you looked down at your legs, finding that you no longer had them. Not anymore.

Instead, they were replaced with a long, graceful tail and fin. You shuttered in fear, noting that the lower half of your body was now covered with fish scales.

You couldn’t move from the sandy spot you were laying in. Your panic heightened as you attempt to use your upper body strength to crawl away from the water, but the pull of the waves as the tides rolled in enabled the receding sand to sink you down, practically gluing you stuck and your lower half remaining in the water.

As the currents grew stronger, and no one in sight to hear or see you, your body was slowly but surely getting pulled in deeper into the water.

Each wave dragged you in deeper, your whole body was nearly entrenched in the shallow water, yet it was becoming easier to move, so long as you were going in the direction of the deep end. You felt exhausted from fighting against the waves, so you laid there in defeat. Your wet hair was plastered all over your face, the transformation of your lower extremities caused the ruffle lining of your dress to shred.

Noticing that the stinging pain was no longer present, you closed your eyes and found comfort in feeling the soothing sensation of the water showering your entire body. The feeling that you normally enjoyed.

You closed your eyes and laid your cheek down on the wet sand before you, not sure if you just needed a break or if you had entirely given up and assumed you were going to die in that spot. Within seconds after closing your eyes, another wave rolls in, covering you entirely. As it pulls back, revealing every shell and rock that laid thickly underneath the sand, the raging current drags you one final time, fully submerging you in the water.

The feeling, opposed to what you felt moments earlier, was beyond amazing. Even though the temperature of the water was cooler, you felt warm and secured. The swooshing of the current wraps around you and glides against your skin.

Your whole body felt the touch of everything around you. The pale silver scales glowed contrasted against the shadowed depth around you. Considering how dark it was underneath the surface, your view was as clear as glass. Everything you laid your eyes on, you were able to see its finer details, no matter how small or large it was.

You could hear the echo calling of whales, even though they were meters from where you were at. It appeared that not only did you gain the sense of touch by being in the water, but your other senses remain unimpaired. They actually seemed enhanced under water.

As tempted as it was to savor the environment you were in, you started to get worried that your mother would come look for you, especially since your time outside was breaching the final moments of the hour. Though you weren’t entirely sure how you would go see her in the state you were in.

You swam back to the shoreline, although it didn’t feel like swimming, more like gliding. You found it was so easy to move in the water, and you were moving in a speed that you’ve never was faster than any moving car you rode in.

Beaching yourself as you reached the shoreline, you turn to admire the pale-silver color of your tail.

The fin was large and fanned out, the skin that stretched over the frame was semi-transparent, and it glistened with a sheer blend of pastel colors, the same as the seafoam. Two spurs outlined the out corners of the fin as it branched out, they were long, and the tips of them were sharper than any knife you’ve seen.

The scales on your tale all looked like nacre, or simply known as Mother-of-Pearl, reflecting the wide hue of colors to bounce off the silver base. The amount of scales lessened just past your pelvic bone, revealing the skin you were familiar with. Had there been more time you would have removed your dress to see how much had changed with your upper body if it did change. Yet you became more focused on figuring a way to get out of the water, then coming up with an explanation for your appearance.

Moving was hard, compared to how it was in the water, now that you had laid ashore it felt nearly impossible. Finding yourself stuck yet again, the only manner to get farther away from the water was to crawl using your upper body. Digging your elbows into the murky sand, you struggled to find some level of stable foundation as you felt yourself sinking in.

Noticing the partial burial of large rocks all around, you reached for the exposed surfaces, grabbing on to the points and edges. Using the moment of your body to shift in the direction you needed to go, you exhausted every effort by using whatever means necessary to get further up, closer to your destination. The sense of touch begins to fade out, disappearing the further you move away from the water. A bittersweet exchange.

Finally, you reached the dry mounds of sand. Grabbing a handful, you watch as the spilling of dry granules seeps in between your fingers, feeling a sense of accomplishment. You moved upward just a tad bit more, ensuring no part of you, to include the tail, was touching water.

You come to a sudden halt as a familiar sensation hits you. Odd, since you were no longer touching the water, yet the stinging all throughout your lower half re-emerges, and you could feel it just as strongly as you had in the water. You turned over onto your back and saw all the dry granules of sand that coated the scales of your tail. Witnessing the metamorphosis happening before your own eyes, you watched as the beige hue of the sand and the rainbow explosion of color from the scales begin to transform. The merging of colors gradually fades into a hue that matches your skin, while the two long spurs at the corners of your fin begin to recede.

Beginning at the inner triangular tip in the center of your fin, the skin separates, and continues up along the center of your tail, regaining the shape and length of your legs.

Was that all it took? Dry land? Or just being out of the water…these waters.

You didn’t tell your parents what happened that night, you didn’t know how. For the longest time, you wondered if it had been a dream or some type of hallucination. Yet the memory of feeling the water, listening to the whales, and re-visualizing the clarity of your sight, you knew that it was neither.

[navcommrelay]

/////Begin Transmission/////

Assessment:

Did someone unbox a damned museum and park it in the staging area? Obsolete second- and third-line gear...ancient SLDF equipment... Pre-Succession stuff, backed by what look to be antique parade ground ‘Mechs crash-prepped to something approaching combat readiness. Dear God, I hope the apparent focus on redundancy is enough to compensate for the glaring deficiencies present in equipment this old. This stuff would have been a formidable threat…in 3049."

/////End Transmission/////

{Assessment Received.}

{Analysis: Positive Assessment.}

{Authorize Deployment....Done.}

{Contacting Operations Command.....}

Links to squadron overviews below the cut. Tagging folks by the suggestion of @is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not, thanks!

@starcommanderhannahlewis @the-clawtake @harwood-pmc-official @the-tired-merc @lt-chari @msn-04iinightingale @snords-sword @house-steiner-stays-winning @karriethemechtech @starcolonelkatrinamoon @is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not @killer-orca-cosplay @jaded-falcon @scorpians-sting @combined-arms-merc-groups @on-a-mechtechnicality @freelance-belter-catgirl @callsignpuppy

[solarwynd]

I don’t know how to explain it (true conspiracy theory) but everything went wrong after BH joined Hybe. It happened in 2020, didn’t it? Since 2020 Jimin’s light started diminishing. Fewer lines, fewer center stages, no solo music in albums…

Idk what happened. During BH era all members were given rather the same emphasis. Ofc, songwriting was on the rl, while ml were used mostly for boosting fan engagement. But then everything changed.

Not only with Jimin, btw. I feel like Nj role was brutally erased also.

Jimin’s light hasn’t diminished. And his lines have never really been substantial for someone whose supposed to be the lead vocalist tbh, but in recents times it has gotten even more sparse. We had MOTS7 with filter and that was his last solo track. In that same year BE happened and he was the only member that didn’t have a major contribution outside of the bridge in disease. What’s a head scratcher for me though is jimin has such a natural gift for melodies and his track record proves it. There’s just no conceivable way that what he put forth wasn’t working well enough that they couldn’t go with it in some way. That’s why I don’t like that “2 go in 1 comes out” system they’ve made for picking tracks cause I feel like there’s always gonna be some type of inherent bias there that causes skewing. And it’s not like there was a cohesive theme for BE. The songs were all over the place. They coulda kicked dynamite out and made room cause it’s not like it was a necessity for that to be on there.

The purpose of maknae line was not for boosting fan engagement, it just panned out that way because they were attractive and people were drawn to them the most out the group. The appeal was the music though and that’s what really garnered them a big audience. I wouldn’t say that Joon’s role was erased either. During ITS he has stated that he was dealing with heavy artist block and it was getting very difficult to write songs. If you really think about it he’s been responsible for the bulk of the lyrics in bts’ discography. Might be misremembering a little but I also feel as though the other members genuinely wanted to give him a break too because of that. So it’s not really hybe in regards to joon. He’s still very much active as the leader to me.

In the transition small label to big corporation since hybe spawned from BH though, I definitely feel like original ideals were lost. It became more about expansion for hybe and bringing in income instead. And of course Bang with his idea of a western takeover. So I’m not expecting it to revert back to the way it was cause that man is firmly stuck in that vision.

[wirelandranch]

LORE ENTRY 2: The Mojave Logistics Archaeological Survey Team (MLAST)

Built of a group of individuals handpicked by Nathaniel Godwynn, all from scientific, fringe religious, or military background.

**NO COMMUNISTS WERE USED IN THE FORMATION OF THIS TEAM.

Members:

Dr. Rosalind Byne: (age 42) Once a well respected Corporal in the US Army Corp of Engineers before being dishonorably discharged for stealing state secrets. It is commonly believed that Nathaniel Godwynn was her lover in the time period prior to her theft. The documents she is said to have stolen were then, and remain, classified. Interventions were made on her behalf by the Mojave Logistics legal team and her record was wiped clean though she is banned from further participation in the military. Education: PHD in Archaeology from Massachussettes Institute of Technology (MIT) Bachelors in Anthropology (MIT)

Rosy Byne: (age 21) Daughter of Rosalind and youngest member of the team. Known to be brilliant and "an absolute joy to be around," it is often said the team would've fallen into their dark times sooner had she left them to their own devices. Though she had no formal education she proved in the long run to be one of the most valuable members of the team and had a knack for "feeling out an area" and locating harder to reach areas of excavation sites and cave depths. Many a cavern was mapped with her jubilant assistance.

Daniel Rosenthal: (age 44) Transferred directly over from the UKSF as part of a large real estate deal negotiated on behalf of the UK government. Some believe Nathaniel Godwynn financed the purchase specifically to acquire Rosenthal. He was known in various circles, including a late stage high level Thelema oriented crowd known to play host to both NASA Rocket Scientists and cult religious leaders alike. Very likely one of the only living people ever to accomplish a true to life feat of magic, harnessing powers mankind is not meant to know.

Tyrone Bowens: (age 25) Originally from one of the worst ghettos in America, Tyrone showed promise as both an athlete and a scholar from an extremely early age. Upon the loss of his parents at age 15 he was moved across the country to live with his aunt, Tameika Bowens, a VP of Strategic Acquisition who worked closely with Nathaniel as far back as the initial public offering of Godwynn Enterprises. Within 3 months of the move, Tyrone was working as an intern and in-office assistant to the entire Strategic Acquisition team. His role on the survey team saw him responsible for the team's relationship to the local communities surrounding potential research areas. Most that knew him before his untimely death, remember him as a gentle and funny individual aside from his known lovers, who tend to say quite the opposite.

Robert Orange: (age 56) Older brother of Agent Russel Orange, head of security for ML and GE. While both brothers exhibited qualities their own mother referred to as "textbook fuckup traits," Robert had far fewer of the redeeming characteristics present in his younger sibling. This fact conjured a hard life, full of frustration and self victimization which led to an addiction to morphine and a penchant for pharmaceutical grade methamphetamines that eventually careened out of control and siphoned off the little bit of a life he had pieced together. During this time Russel and Robert lost contact for years prior to reuniting in late 2015 after the loss of Russel's wife, Magdalene Godwynn. After a few years of working closely together at the helm of security, Russel lobbied to get his brother a place on MLAST where he would provide security services as well as, and this is generally unknown, keep Agent Orange abreast of the research conducted.

[govindhtech]

BigQuery DataFrame And Gretel Verify Synthetic Data Privacy

It looked at how combining Gretel with BigQuery DataFrame simplifies synthetic data production while maintaining data privacy in the useful guide to synthetic data generation with Gretel and BigQuery DataFrames. In summary, BigQuery DataFrame is a Python client for BigQuery that offers analysis pushed down to BigQuery using pandas-compatible APIs.

Gretel provides an extensive toolkit for creating synthetic data using state-of-the-art machine learning methods, such as large language models (LLMs). An seamless workflow is made possible by this integration, which makes it simple for users to move data from BigQuery to Gretel and return the created results to BigQuery.

The technical elements of creating synthetic data to spur AI/ML innovation are covered in detail in this tutorial, along with tips for maintaining high data quality, protecting privacy, and adhering to privacy laws. In Part 1, to de-identify the data from a BigQuery patient records table, and in Part 2, it create synthetic data to be saved back to BigQuery.

Setting the stage: Installation and configuration

With BigFrames already installed, you may begin by using BigQuery Studio as the notebook runtime. To presume you are acquainted with Pandas and have a Google Cloud project set up.

Step 1: Set up BigQuery DataFrame and the Gretel Python client.

Step 2: Set up BigFrames and the Gretel SDK: To use their services, you will want a Gretel API key. One is available on the Gretel console.

Part 1: De-identifying and processing data with Gretel Transform v2

De-identifying personally identifiable information (PII) is an essential initial step in data anonymization before creating synthetic data. For these and other data processing tasks, Gretel Transform v2 (Tv2) offers a strong and expandable framework.

Tv2 handles huge datasets efficiently by combining named entity recognition (NER) skills with sophisticated transformation algorithms. Tv2 is a flexible tool in the data preparation pipeline as it may be used for preprocessing, formatting, and data cleaning in addition to PII de-identification. Study up on Gretel Transform v2.

Step 1: Convert your BigQuery table into a BigFrames DataFrame.

Step 2: Work with Gretel to transform the data.

Part 2: Generating synthetic data with Navigator Fine Tuning (LLM-based)

Gretel Navigator Fine Tuning (NavFT) refines pre-trained models on your datasets to provide high-quality, domain-specific synthetic data. Important characteristics include:

Manages a variety of data formats, including time series, JSON, free text, category, and numerical.

Maintains intricate connections between rows and data kinds.

May provide significant novel patterns, which might enhance the performance of ML/AI tasks.

Combines privacy protection with data usefulness.

By utilizing the advantages of domain-specific pre-trained models, NavFT expands on Gretel Navigator’s capabilities and makes it possible to create synthetic data that captures the subtleties of your particular data, such as the distributions and correlations for numeric, categorical, and other column types.

Using the de-identified data from Part 1, it will refine a Gretel model in this example.

Step 1: Make a model better:

# Display the full report within this notebooktrain_results.report.display_in_notebook()

Step 2: Retrieve the Quality Report for Gretel Synthetic Data.

Step 3: Create synthetic data using the optimized model, assess the privacy and quality of the data, and then publish the results back to a BQ table.

A few things to note about the synthetic data:

Semantically accurate, the different modalities (free text, JSON structures) are completely synthetic and retained.

The data are grouped by patient during creation due to the group-by/order-by hyperparameters that were used during fine-tuning.

How to use BigQuery with Gretel

This technical manual offers a starting point for creating and using synthetic data using Gretel AI and BigQuery DataFrame. You may use the potential of synthetic data to improve your data science, analytics, and artificial intelligence development processes while maintaining data privacy and compliance by examining the Gretel documentation and using these examples.

Read more on Govindhtech.com

[purvianpat-asmediastudies]

Week 3 - Camera Shots

This week we learnt about the different types of shots and how to identify them in clips. The way a scene is shot can evoke emotions, convey the story's mood, and provide the audience with a unique perspective. Understanding different types of camera shots is crucial for any aspiring filmmaker or cinema enthusiast. Here are the different types:

✮Extreme Long Shot (ELS)✮

An Extreme Long Shot captures of broad view of the setting. It is used to establish the environment and context in which the story takes place. It shows the subject from a distance, providing a sense of scale and grandeur.

✮Long Shot (LS)✮

Also known as a wide shot, a long shot shows the subject within their surrounding environment. The subject’s full body is visible, and while the setting still plays a significant role, more emphasis is placed on the characters and their interactions with the space around them.

✮Mid Long shot (MLS)✮

This shot frames the character from knees and up. This shot size falls between a normal medium shot and a full shot. It is somewhere between a long shot and a medium shot. They are commonly used in group shots, two shots and emblematic shots.

✮Mid shot (MS)✮

The subject is framed from waist up, balancing between showing the subject and their surroundings. It's a versatile shot often used in dialogues and scenes requiring a closer look at the characters’ actions and expressions without losing context.

✮Mid close up shot (MCU)✮

A mid-close up shot is when the camera is placed in a way that frames the character from right above their head down to the middle of their torso. It’s commonly used for conversations, providing a clearer view of the characters' expressions and emotions.

✮Close-up shot (CU)✮

A Close-up shot focuses tightly on a subject’s face, capturing their facial expressions and emotions in detail. It's a powerful shot for conveying intensity, intimacy, and the nuances of an actor’s performance.

✮Extreme close up (ECU)✮

An extreme close up focuses on a specific part of the body of the subject like their eye, nose, hand, etc. It highlights crucial details thus creating a dramatic effect, drawing the viewer's attention.

These were the types of body related shots. Now lets look at some of the general shots.

✮Establishing shot ✮

An establishing shot usually shows a location. It sets the scene and shows the viewer where the story or action is taking place. This shot provides the audience with essential context and helps to orient them within the story's environment.

✮Two shot✮

In a two shot, two characters are framed in the shot. It is a vital technique used to capture the interaction between two characters. It is a staple in dialogue-heavy scenes and is essential for establishing relationships, conveying emotions, and enhancing the narrative flow.

✮Three shot✮

A camera shot known as a "Three Shot" consists of three characters in the frame. The three characters' interactions are captured in a single frame using this flexible and dynamic shot technique.

✮Aerial shot✮

An aerial shot is taken from directly overhead, providing a unique perspective on the scene below. It can be used to show complex choreography, large crowds, or intricate patterns within the environment. Usually, drones are used to capture such shots.

✮Master shot✮

A master shot, to put it simply, captures a fully staged scenario from start to finish from a camera angle that maintains focus on every character. A master shot must genuinely capture every detail of a situation from beginning to end.

✮Point of view shot (POV)✮

The POV Shot gives the viewer the impression that they are seeing the scenario through the eyes of one of the characters. It is often shot on a hand held camera to accentuate the subject's perspective. It creates a strong sense of immersion and empathy, as seen in many thriller and horror films.

✮Over-the-shoulder shot (OTS)✮

The Over-the-Shoulder Shot is filmed from behind one character, showing the back of their shoulder and head while focusing on another character or object in front of them. It is mostly used to portray conversational back and fourth between two subjects.

That's all for this week. Thankyou for reading!

[imthepunchlord]

Them expanding on lessons for other characters to learn would solve so many issues. And I do think it could be set up that, not only do major characters learn lessons, but minor ones could too.

Like, Gamer, I felt that was better set up for Max to learn a lesson about good sportsmanship, how to handle a loss. I agree with @nobodyfamousposts that even if Marinette didn't join, if he lost as the tournament, he still would've become an akuma. To add to it, you have how he behaves to her post his time as an akuma, back turned, giving her a stink eye, actnig like she cheated though she won fair and square.

It'd be one thing if she did, but she didn't. All she had was she didn't join for "the right reason", but your reasons for joining a competition don't matter. What matters is the performance and sportsmanship. Between the two, he's the one I'd point to that needed the lesson.

Heck, they were even somewhat aware of this back in s1, that Marinette herself can't solely learn lessons. Alix in Timebreaker acknowledges her faults in this situation and apologizes.

It's a shame they didn't keep that going. A lot of frustrations a lot of have could be resolved if characters who were truly at fault were acknowledged and learn lessons and apologized for it. Refleckdoll, Alya was at fault for the whole thing but it's Marinette who gets pinned the blame despite her efforts to try and help. Horrificator, Nino's at fault for taking advantage of this situation, but aside from a few call outs, he doesn't learn a lesson about this. Doesn't apologize to Mylene for all the pressure he puts on her. And then Kuro Neko with Adrien skipping out because he's bothered by LB relying on other heroes, which has her relying on other heroes more because he's skipping out, which just bums him more which just adds to the cycle, and she's at fault for this?

It really would've solved so many issues if the acknowledgement of who's at fault and who learns lessons was expanded. Especially as, usually, that helps characters grow and become better (though that does require consistency and Miraculous doesn't know her). Adrien and Alya, who I do feel frustrations at, I can still see that potential in them as characters; if their shortcomings were acknowledged instead of hand waved away, if they got to learn lessons, if they got to truly have the limelight for certain eps.

It would also be nice having a defined major cast. Despite what a lot of fans default to, there is no actual Miraculous Team. I would define that existence as a group that is 4 or more, that work together in fights regularly, and work off each other pretty equally or close to it. But Miraculous doesn't have that. That would require more full time heroes, and that would require other characters to really get attention, and to see different interactions and conflicts between characters, and get to see their own personal issues and means of growth.

But we don't have that.

Who are the actual major characters are really just Adrien and Marinette (with Marinette especially shoved into center stage), and semi Alya, who barely fits the bill of a major character as she hardly works off Adrien/Chat Noir. Even as a full time hero, she didn't interact with the whole team. I get why, but you can't have an actual team dynamic with that set up.

There is Chloe, who technically meets all the qualifications to be a major character as she does work off both Adrien and Marinette (could work off Chat more though given we got quite a bit of her with LB), but her whole situation is a hot mess and she's not meant to be counted as a hero. But who knows, That Guy isn't apart of ML's production anymore and I think Zag likes her so maybe hero Chloe will make a return in s6? Who knows.

But no one else really fits that criteria to count as part of the major cast.

Nino is barely a character and he can't exist outside Adrien and Alya. I genuinely feel like he's only around because he's popular with fans, otherwise he would've been faded out to be amongst the classmates. Which from what I've seen, he kinda is, he just gets a little more attention in comparison.

Only other I'd consider as another potential is Kagami, but she's got her own issues that keeps me from really counting her as major character. Largely, Kagami has different personalities for the episode requirement, so that lack of consistency is a big issue and does not help with her characterization. She's not a full time hero (I actually wondered post Riptose if she would've stepped up as a Miraculousless vigilante, but nope. We can't have nice things). And while she does work off Marinette and Adrien a quite bit, and she has worked off LB a bit, she doesn't ever work off Chat (to my knowledge, which in hindsight is surprising).

It is a big bummer that we didn't get an actual Miraculous Team, as this is supposed to be a Magical Girl show, and majority of them do have an actual team.

But I guess that potential of friendships, exploring dynamics, and characters getting expanded upon would've taken away from the dragged out romance that didn't have anything really substantial happening until s5.

In Defense of Marinette

I like Marinette. While there are many valid criticisms of her writing, the same can be said for literally every other character and she's actually doing pretty well given that she's the main character. After all, in a show where consistent characterization is an ongoing issue, the one with the most screen time will probably be the one who's the biggest victim of the issue.

This is heavily exacerbated by the rule that supposedly governs Miraculous. Namely that, in each story, Marinette must make a mistake. Or, at least, so says the head writer:

I really do not care what this guy says on Twitter or anywhere else. I only care about what's in the show because, if you have to go outside the text to understand the text, then you have no idea how to tell a good story.

However, unlike many of the tweets that I've seen, this one isn't some BS bit of lore. It's a writing rule and it has substantial backing in the text. It's extremely rare to have an episode where Marinette comes out smelling like roses and that's a problem because Miraculous has over 100 episodes. In other words, to follow this rule, the writers have to come up with over 100 ways for Marinette to be wrong so of course she's going to come across poorly. Why would you do this to your main character?

It's extremely common for kids shows to have a "lesson of the day" element to them. Someone always needs to learn something, but I've never seen a show misunderstand the assignment so badly. Learning a lesson is not the same as doing something wrong.

It's been a while since I watched the 2010 version of My Little Pony, but it really leaned into that whole "lesson of the day" thing and it actually knew what it was doing, so I'm going to talk about it briefly to discuss things that Miraculous should have done.

The first thing to note is that MLP had an unambiguous main character - Twilight Sparkle - but Twilight was not the one who learned all of the lessons. She had a pet dragon and a crew of five friends who would, occasionally, be the ones to learn the lesson because there were lots of lessons that simply didn't fit Twilight's character. Instead of warping Twilight to make the idea work (cough cough Ikari Gozen cough), the writers just let someone else have the spotlight for a bit.

This is an excellent way to build out your cast and Miraculous had plenty of opportunities to do it. For example, Lila should not have been Marinette's issue. The fact that Lila hates Marinette could have certainly stuck around, but the one who takes her down and learns to investigate her sources? That should have been Alya. A liar is the perfect enemy for an investigative journalist, but a poor enemy for someone who shines as a battlefield commander and overthinks when she's given too much time.

Another way that MLP would teach lessons was to have someone other than Twilight or the main crew cause the issue that they then had to deal with. This leads to one of the best moments in children's television:

And, frankly? Marinette deserves a moment like this. That poor girl has been through hell and is never allowed to make the right call when it really matters. The show will even completely rewrite its lore to make her fail (see: Strike Back). That is such an awful thing to do to your lead! Shows about female empowerment should include women feeling powerful and, no, Lila and Chloe don't count!

Also, the show is literally about Gabriel taking advantage of people who are upset. You don't need to have Marinette make a mistake to shoehorn in a life lesson. Akumas are life lesson fodder and season 1 actually seemed to get this. I'm not sure why they switched gears to "Marinette is the star and, therefore, must always be wrong."

The final way that MLP taught lessons was to have Twilight do something wrong because having your main character do something wrong is a totally valid way to teach lessons. It just shouldn't be your only way because you know who is always wrong in children's media?

Villains.

They wrote Marinette like a villain.

And a large part of the fandom hates her for it because of course they do.

You're not supposed to like villains.

[creativematka53]

Unlocking Digital Success: Premier Web Development Services

In the current digital world, which moves quickly, having a strong online presence is not an option for companies hoping to succeed. The basis of this presence is an engaging, efficient website that satisfies your operational requirements and captures the spirit of your business. Web development services are essential in this case since they combine technical expertise with artistic flair to enable digital success.

web development services spectrum Web development includes several services that extend beyond the creation of simple websites. Knowing these services will enable companies to select the best solutions that fit their objectives.

development of bespoke websites The particular needs of your company are met by custom web solutions, which guarantee that every feature of the website is in line with your goals and operations.

Solutions for Ecommerce Full e-commerce platforms with strong administration features and a smooth user experience can be developed by developers.

Friendly to Mobiles Design Reaching a larger audience requires mobile-responsive designs since more and more people are using mobile devices to access the internet.

Selecting an Assurance Web Development Company A functional and aesthetically pleasing website requires careful selection of the web development company. To take into account are the following:

Analyzing Portfolios Look at the provider's prior work to determine their level of experience and competence with a variety of development assignments.

Creative and Technical Skills Make sure the group is capable of developing robust back-end systems as well as of producing eye-catching front-end designs.

Client Testimonials View testimonies and reviews to determine the caliber of the service and level of client happiness provided by the supplier.

What a Web Design Company Does Strategically A web design company concentrates on a website's user-experience and aesthetics. The intention is to design a logical and appealing layout that improves user retention and involvement.

Value of Eye Appeal A well designed website may have a big first impression and affect how prospective clients see your business.

User Experience (UX) Architecture Users come first in good design. A smooth and pleasurable experience for visitors is the main goal of UX designers, who may raise customer loyalty and conversion rates.

Including Search Engine Optimization into Web Development Building websites is only one aspect of web development services; another is making sure search engines can find them. Search engine optimized website development comprises:

Maximizing Speed Better user experience and higher SEO rankings are two benefits of faster website loading times.

Optimizing Mobile A website that is mobile friendly not only works better for users but also appears higher in search engine results.

Cleaned and Organized Code Search engines find it easy to index and well-organized code can greatly enhance website performance.

Next Web Development Trends Aiming to stay ahead in web development, one must monitor new developments:

Web Apps Progressive (PWAs) PWAs give users of web browsers a native app-like experience together with fast load times and offline capabilities.

Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence Enhancing user experiences and personalization, AI and ML are being included into web development more and more.

Maximizing Voice Search Increasingly widespread voice search means that websites must be voice query optimized.

Recap: Creating Digital Excellence Web development is a dynamic area that calls for a calculated fusion of technical expertise and artistic ability. Businesses may produce more than simply a website by working with an experienced web development provider or a talented web design firm; they can also produce a potent digital asset that propels expansion and success.

Setting the stage for long-term digital success, including these insights into your web development plan will guarantee a strong, interesting, and innovative online presence.

[humanoidtyphoons]

orange was so good!! i very much enjoyed the speculations of things before they gradually got revealed tbh? such as:

-wondering if the time travel was going to change the future, even if the concept of parallel worlds does get introduced fairly early on, not knowing if changing their past would affect their present

-wondering if ml was destined to die, if it was a fixed point, no matter what anyone did

-wondering if the child of fl&sml is in fact theirs??? like if ml survived, and the future is changed, was the child the implied secondary couple and the fl&sml were babysitting???

-being sad if the future versions were going to be erased??? like fl&sml getting married and having a child is sweet, and if that baby was going to disappear in order to get their friend back… i would have been upset tbh

-wondering if fl was going to fall for sml anyway, tho she was crushing on ml since the start but in the future, she ended up with sml due to the tragic circumstances, so again, wondered if there might be a change of heart midway tho ot3 would have been cuuuute

other points

-love that the future selves remain in the story to provide more insight. at the start, i was convinced that they would set the stage and never reappear but no, they are a consistent presence

-i enjoyed ml’s depression not being a quick fix. like it’s hard, the friends group do their best, but in the end, it is up to the ml to decide. therapy does not exist in this world.

-the black hole stuff is a bit meh, but… it’s fine

-as soon as fl found out sml had a letter from his future self, i really think she should have gathered the friends group about the letters from the future. however, she is a teen and thinks she should take care of the issue herself so i don’t mind that it took a couple of episodes to find this out.

-the teen-ness of it all!!! i loved the melancholic high school vibes of it all

-glasses guy became the unexpected fave. him determined to destroy a vehicle made me laugh super hard.

8/10. super solid but i wish the second half was slightly stronger? overall really liked it.

[mi4011mariaperera]

Stop Motion Animation - Work In Progress

27/04/2024

Hi everyone, currently I'm having a mini panic attack because I went through the check list for stage 2 presentations. We have so much on our plates to complete before this coming Friday. Looks like I'll have to take a hiatus from sleeping. (Apologize to my comfy and cozy bed)

Now that I've gotten a sugar rush after drinking 400 ml of cream soda, I'm pretty sure I can type down yesterday's work in progress for the stop motion animation with supersonic speed. (*shush* let me be delusional)

~Alrighty! Let's get down to business!!!~

Right after Irushi's morning lectures for MI4017, Ayodya, Thameena, Shiza and I stayed back to redesign the backdrop for the animation and to recreate our son, 'Mini Tom Moore'. (couple of surgeries had to be performed by Shiza and Thameena)

While Shiza and Thameena were focused on redesigning our son, Ayodya and I focused on the backdrop. Because we added tissue to it, some of the tissue layers were peeling off. So, we had to tear those small bits and paint over the remaining tissues with a sponge.

After our work was done, we left the backdrop to dry, and we went over to help Thameena and Shiza stitch some clothes for our son. (You may be laughing because we call him our 'son', but that's because you are jealous that he has 4 moms, and you don't. I said what needed to be said...PERIOD)

Thameena and I ran over to the fashion department and ask if we could use some of their scrap material to stitch up costumes. Luckily for us, the 7th floor (sewing room) has a bin with so many scrap material. Like little rats searching for food in garbage bins (probably what the fashion students thought of us lol), Thameena and I were digging deep into this scrap cloth bin, and we found all the material needed. (Especially the material we used for Tom's little tie. It was FANCY looking with interesting swirly designs.)

Once we got all the material, we magically transformed into fashion students. Aydoya sewed our little Tom's pants, Shiza sewed his Top, and I sewed his fancy little tie!

Thameena was focused on rolling the clay out for his skin, hair, eyes and shoes.

After I finished making the tie, I transformed back into a MGA student and went ahead to add in some finishing touches to the backdrop. With Thameena's help, we added some curvy lines and dots into the backdrop by using shimmery white paint and we completed the final look of the backdrop!

Unfortunately, Thameena and Ayodya had to leave before 4.15pm. So Shiza and I had to work on the finishing touches on Tom and the filming aspect. Shiza took care of handling Tom's facial features whereas I took care of handling the setup for filming.

Our ‘Mini Tom Moore’

By the time we got started with recording, it must've been 4.45pm. We hardly had any time and we had to complete our recording session in the library by 5pm. During the recording process, Shiza was the camerawoman, I moved Tom and Semini helped with the lighting from the phone torches. (Semini's from a different group, but thank God she was willing to help with our lighting last minute)

Luckily, before the clock struck 5pm, we finished recording. We had to get it in one take since we hardly had any time in hand.

Check out our unedited stop motion recording down below!

That's basically it for the 'work in progress' for the animator stop motion animation. I will post the edited video on my next post.

Check out our work in progress video down below!

As always, thank you for reading! Hope you have a chill and relaxing day!

[z-h-i-e]

New Year's Fanfic Asks - 4&5/5

The final installment for my good friend Anonymous...

16. Do you have that one fanfic that you wrote a ton for, ages ago, but never posted? Will this be the year, come hell or high water, that it WILL get finished and posted?

Oh, Unforgettable. You are basically done.  Someone just has to get my ass in gear and get it all put together and posted.  Probably me. But peer pressure helps, too.

17. Do you typically answer all comments/reviews individually? Do you plan to change the way you interact with your readers this year?

>.> This is something I am terrible at on AO3, but great at in emails and on Discord.  If you connect with me on Discord and show an interest in wanting to discuss what I’ve written, chances are we will end up in a voice chat where I will tell you stories that may never get written down and will wish you sweet elfy dreams when we part. Emails, there’s a good chance I’ll answer back and we’ll become email penpals and start writing fic together.  On Tumblr, I am likely to answer back.  On AO3, I have an embarrassing amount of unanswered comments (maybe someday we’ll play guess a number); I used to take one Friday a month, take myself to lunch at Panera, specifically one that I used as the basis for Salgant’s home, and answer AO3 comments. Then pandemic. So I need to get a routine going again.  But until then – I’m .zhie. on Discord, and I can be poked there. Or here. Here is good, too.

18. Do you typically post multi-chapters as you write, or finish it all and then start posting? Would you like to change your posting method? 

I am chaos. Both. Either. And I’ve even written and posted chapters out of order. I’ve posted them so out of order I’ve posted endings before the middle has been figured out. 

19. Would you consider non-fandom writing events, like NaNoWriMo or writing contests? 

Oh.  Oh, you have no idea.  I spent about 12 years as a NaNoWriMo ML, I run a state-wide writing Discord for the state I’m in, and I do in fact enter writing contests.  I was published as a poet when I was in high school, placed in a playwriting contest as well, had three different plays I wrote produced in a community theater type setting (I got to direct two of the three – two were comedies [those I directed] and one was a drama), and three times in five years been chosen for a local short works contest to be in their chosen ten for writing, and one of the years was a chosen photographer for the same contest (ten or less photos are chosen, and ten or less written works, and then they are read in public at an event night), and I perform at open mics on the regular, so locally, in person, not just online, a fair number of people know me as Zhie as well. (And at some of the public open mics, I do sometimes read fanfiction. The first one I read was back in 2005 or 2006, and it was a story about Celegorm, and then there’s been various stories since then, the latest one I recall was about Celebrimbor and Feanor reuniting in Valinor.  I read these while on a stage or in the middle of a room filled with people drinking fancy coffee drinks and eating pastries and there’s a couple of IRL fans who have recorded some of the readings, so they’re probably out there somewhere.) And I do all of those how to write sessions and events – at one of the writing groups I regularly attend (I’m a regular member of two in-person writing groups at local libraries) a member gave me the title ‘The Book Doctor’ and I kind of like it. 

20. Any plans to work on original fiction this year?

Yes. Fingers crossed. I need this fantasy horror story out of my head and on paper. 

21. Will you try writing software, like Scrivener or those programs that won’t let you stop writing?

I have used some of those in the past, but I don’t really have much of a need for them anymore.  I do still enjoy a good session of written? kitten! from time to time, and I’ll use Fighter’s Block during nano or any time I need to write much faster. (It’s the only reason I managed to write 50K words in 10 days during NaNo a few years ago.) 

22. Do you plan to take writing classes this year?

I’m kind of at the point where I give writing classes. I enjoy going to the two in-person writing groups because I think it’s important to interact with other writers outside of one’s normal genre, and I have a lot of different people I interact with.  One of the groups leans more nonfiction, and the other is more fiction.  So there’s a guy who writes these nonfiction essays about dead people (basically, famous people, but they have to be dead, I think so that he can have a definitive end, but he’s recently started writing a book about banned books), a WWII vet who writes poetry about the war, someone who professionally is a blogger, someone who writes social psychology pieces, someone who writes these one-page anecdotes that relate back to a Bible passage, someone who writes anecdotes about Jewish life in the 1960s/70s, someone who writes blogs about libraries and books, someone who writes about economics. Then there’s someone who is a children’s author (3 books published), someone who writes YA fiction, someone who is an illustrator, another who is writing a theatrical play for a specific band’s music, someone who writes those nostalgic books full of postcards, someone who is writing her family stories down for her grandchildren to read later when they’re grown up in case she’s not around when they start asking about family history, a scifi writer, a romance writer, a fantasy writer, a songwriter. And me. Those live writing groups are better than any writing class. I get exposed to so many ideas and levels of writing and things I would never write but analyzing them gets me thinking about other things, and all in all, makes me a better writer. 

23. Would you like to go on a writing retreat?

I would like to host one.  I’ve done college-level coursework in convention and meeting planning, and I’ve done a lot of convention and event planning.  However, at this point, one of the above mentioned people in one of the groups does run a writing retreat, and she has two of the events of that retreat open to the public, so I went to one of the events this past November, and I enjoyed it.  So maybe I’d consider going to her retreat, especially since I wouldn’t have to majorly travel to get there. 

24. By the end of this year, you want your fandom to think of you as “that author who _______.”

I don’t need to wait until the end of the year.  In the back of a dresser somewhere there’s a shirt that has a big purple rabbit on the front and on the back, it says something to the effect of “I’m the author that brought your fandom cheesecake and flamingos and purple bunnies”, and that’s pretty much what I do and what I’ve been doing.  I brought a little chaos, as a treat, and people seemed to like it, so I just keep doing weird shit, like licking virtual couches in Yahoo!Groups or running an event called Screw Yule just because I could. I bounce around, from the fanfic and fanart groups, into the crafting groups, over to the gaming groups, around to the bookclub groups, sliding into the scholarly groups, and I’m always just a little quirky and a little unexpected and very authentically me–I’m just tiggering my way around, and like tiggers, the wonderful thing about zhies is that I’m the only one. 

25. If you answered questions from this list last year, find your answers and compare your goals to your results. How’d you do?

I did not answer these last year, but now that I have a full slate, perhaps I’ll have to revisit next year.