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lovelytsunoda · 4 months

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purple haze // charles leclerc

summary: writing a novel is a long an arduous process. luckily for y/n, she has a very supportive partner in crime, and when it all works out, he's the only person she would want by her side.

pairing: charles leclerc x author reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, talk of deadlines, book referenced is a good girls guide to murder by holly jackson. gets a lil steamy towards the middle but nothing comes of it. still not sure how i feel about this one, but i havent written for charles in forever and i got an idea i really liked but i don't know if it worked out when i put it on paper.

by the time y/n closed her laptop, she felt like her fingers were going to fall off. she leaned back in her desk chair, gutted to find that the monaco cityscape outside her living room window was now pitch black, as might had fallen on the city.

her first book had been a red-wine and oasis fuelled fever dream, the last three chapters being written to ‘don’t look back in anger’. and now, the final edits were done.

“I’m so proud of you, mon tresor.” charles gushed, bringing her another glass of wine.

“the last three years are finally paying off. a good girls guide to murder is done, and the world is ready to meet pippa and ravi.” she grinned, clinking her glass against her boyfriends.

she had poured three years of her life into that book, and Charles had been by her side for all of it. through numerous rejections, edits and late night idea-vomit, nobody was prouder than charles was so see it work out for her.

and now he knew she needed a break.

taking her hand in his, he gently dragged her out of the desk chair and towards the couch, placing their wineglasses on the coffee table as he urged y/n to sit on the ground between his legs.

his hands were warm as he began to massage her shoulders, attempting to release the tension caused by the last round of edits, which she had worked on almost from sunup to sundown.

“there’s still so much to do.” she whined, tilting her head back to look up at her lover. “now there’s arcs and extra promotions and finding advance reviewers and-“

charles cut her off with a kiss. “none of that right now. right now, you and me are going to finish this bottle of wine and watch something pointless on tv.”

smiling to herself, y/n got up from the floor and moved to the leather couch, slipping seamlessly into charles' lap and nestling against his chest. his body was warm, and his sweater soft. even if his cologne was a little bit too strong, he made her feel safe. treasured.

"that sounds perfect." she hummed, gently turning his face so she could kiss him. "thank you for supporting me."

"always, my love." charles smiled before kissing her again.

SIX MONTHS LATER

it was half past five in the morning when the phone rang. charles could sleep through just about anything, but it was the vibrations of the phone against her side table that woke y/n.

she looked over at her sleeping lover, pressing a gentle kiss to the smooth skin on his shoulder blades before slipping out of bed and creeping into the hallway to answer a call from her agent, cecelia.

"cece, its five in the morning. couldn't this have waited?"

ceclia cleared her throat. "i've just heard from the american office. the preliminary numbers for the new york times list are in."

"fuck. how did we do?" she closed her eyes, holding up her crossed fingers and praying to every god she wasn't sure she believed in.

and when cecelia spoke again, she almost dropped her phone.

"okay. thank you for letting me know, cece."

she slipped back into the bedroom, bare, dry feet sinking into the plush carpet at the end of the bed before she sat down at the end of the bed, gripping the phone so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.

"mon amour." charles rasped, exhaustion in his voice as he rolled over onto his back. "what's wrong?"

"i just got a call from cecelia." she started, trying not to let her emotions show through. "she's just been on the phone with our american agent with the new york times numbers."

charles sat up, one of his warm hands going to rest on her thigh. "and?' he asked hesitantly, his piercing eyes meeting her uncertain ones in the dark.

"i made the top ten." she shouted, grin spreading all across her features.

making the new york times list had made everything worth it. all the sleepless nights when she had woken up with an idea she was scared to lose, all the rewrites, the weeks of writers block. the rejections, the aggravation, the insecurity.

this was it.

she had done it.

"i'm so proud of you." charles beamed, folding her into a hug. "i knew you could do it, my brilliant girl."

she dropped her phone on the bed, red-faced and giggly as she kissed him, allowing her hands to wander across his toned chest. "wanna show me just how much?"

THREE YEARS LATER

the theater was almost silent when the lights came up, the end credits of the final episode fading out on the screen. she held her breath, fingers gripping charles' hand so tightly that she thought she might break the fragile bones in her husband's fingers.

oh, yeah. they had gotten married about a year after her book had come out, while she was in the middle of writing as good as dead, the conclusion to the series.

since a good girls guide to murder had come out, her life had changed for the better. she felt more secure in herself and her talent, and the words had never come easier when she started writing the sequel, eager ton continue the story. she had since written two more books to complete the trilogy, as well as two standalone novels: five survive and the reappearance of rachel price. around the time that rachel price was announced, she had gotten another call from cecelia, asking if she and charles could come to london and meet with representatives from the bbc.

they wanted to turn her first book into a tv series.

she had been hands on from the beginning, throwing herself into her work and doing her best to make sure that the version of the story the readers saw on screen was the version that she had visualized when she'd first explained the storyboard to charles, the driver helping her connect everything on their living room wall with red yarn.

and now was the time. the time to see if it had all paid off. the theater was filled with minor celebrities, influencers, and the tiktokers who had made her book blow up in popularity.

it all came down this night.

"it's okay. whatever happens, you know you did your best." charles whispered in her ear, running one hand up and down her bare back. underneath the flimsy straps of her red dress.

she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath when the roar off applause began to drown her.

she rode the rush of emotions, allowing the tears of gratification and relief to ruin her mascara as she let her body go slack, resting against charles as she watched the room rise in a standing ovation for pippa and ravi.

"we did it. we made it, charles." she laughed, tilting her head up to kiss him.

"no, cherie. you did this. they're all here for you."

she watched as the event's host, a former spice girl that charles knew through his paddock connections, stepped out into the middle of the small stage set up at the front of the theater.

"and now, the moment i'm sure you've all been waiting for, a few words from y/n /y/l/n-leclerc!"

she wiped her eyes and fixed her hair, taking a deep breath before she walked across the stage, taking the microphone from geri halliwell, and turning to face the crowd.

in the front row, there was charles. her one true love. her biggest supporter.

and in that moment, she truly allowed herself to believe that she had made it.

#charles leclerc x reader #formula one x reader #f1 iagine #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #Spotify

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

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To a Tea 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A demanding customer grows increasingly needy.

Character: Raymond Smith

The title is a pun, don’t @ me.

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

You don’t often miss work, but that week, a burst pipe throws everything off. A morning spent waiting on your landlord, then the next few hours for a plumber, has things a bit off kilter. Even the next day, you’re not quite back on point.

The patched wall next to fridge reminds you of the disaster and a dingy smell persists. You hope it doesn’t cling to you as you set off for your shift that day. If you can, you want to pick up some hours from others if their up for grabs. Harry doesn’t like Saturday’s, maybe he’ll hand over some.

You try to leave your problems behind as you catch a bus down to the city centre. You get to the tea shop five minutes before the hour. Jenna’s wrapping up the opening tasks as you go to leave your things in the back. You tie on your apron and unlock the front door for the first customers of the day.

At first, it’s a trickle. Never very much at all. The early risers who often come alone or if they aren’t, they don’t speak much or very loudly. The smell of fresh baking and the slow rising sun add to the lazy din.

“Thought the special was strawberry today,” you comment as you transfer macarons from a cooled tray to the display.

“Eh, it was but we didn’t have enough jam,” she shrugs. “Changed the sign, is all.”

“Ah, thought my mind was lagging again. Everything’s been off since yesterday.”

“Eh, how’s the apartment, anyhow? Marilyn said it was something about a leak?”

“Burst pipe,” you explain, “they took out the wall above the sink, buncha clanging all day. When I tell you this place is like heaven.”

She chuckles, “can be.”

“There’s a formal tea booked in the Marigold Room at noon,” she intones, “forgot to mention that. With Mother’s day coming up, suppose we’ll get more bookings.”

“Suppose,” you go to check the schedule hanging on the wall. “Party of twelve, wow.”

“I’ll man the till. Honest, since those ladies at New Years, I’ve hated doing them.”

“No problem, Harry should be here, shouldn’t he?”

“Well, he’s... called in.”

“Again?” You whine as you face her.

“Are you really surprised?” She scoffs.

“No one else to cover? Not even Louisa?”

“Nah, she’s on holiday still.”

You huff, “fine. Not much of a choose then, is it?”

🫖

The tea room is as close to raucous as you’ve ever heard it. You have your back to the rest of the shop as you balance the stacked serving trays with an array of sponge cake, fruit, and biscuits. It’s the typical assortment for a tea party booking.

You’ve already served the tea and the sandwiches, and dessert is the last bit, along with any further pots needed to be steeped throughout. With a partner, it isn’t hard to keep up, but alone, it’s rather overwhelming. Jenna does her best to assist but there aren’t many lulls around lunch time.

Beyond that, the tourists are chatty. You could hardly get away to fetch each course as they wanted to chat about the culture and your suggestions of what they should do next. It’s nice that they’re friendly but still stressful.

You put the trays on the cart and roll it around the counter. As you do, you nearly skid to a halt. In the rush, you hadn’t noticed him. Your eyes meet Raymond’s as he watches you. Intent, intense. You give an apologetic smile and nod in acknowledgement. Jenna wanted to deal with the main room, she’ll have to wipe down his table and do her best.

You roll behind the wall and into the Marigold room. You present the tray and grab it by the ring at the top, lifting it onto the centre of the table. You roll around to gather the empty plates and cups, taking two pots for refill.

You come back out and see Raymond standing, just as he was. He sees you too. Watching, hands folded, knuckles white, jaw set. He’s usually patient but you don’t know how long he’s been waiting.

You roll behind the counter and sigh, clearing off the cart as Jenna steams a tea latte.

“Can you wipe Raymond’s table?” You ask.

“Who?” She furrows her brow.

You glance over your shoulder toward the man in question and she follows. She rolls her eyes, “I tried, I wiped the the table. He didn’t sit.”

“Hm, well... did you wash your hands first?”

“Christ Almighty, what is he a child?”

“Jen, he’s just... you know, my mom’s the same. He can’t help it.”

“You can deal with him. I won’t be arsed,” she sniffs, “he was rude and you know I don’t got time for those ones.”

“Jenna, I’m kinda up to my eyes,” you dump the used bags from a pot. “I know he can be prickly but just wash your hands and redo the table.”

“Ugh, fine,” she sneers, “but you owe me.”

“Let’s call it even,” you retort as you pour boiling water into the pots mouth.

She shakes her head and huffs, “guess it is.”

🫖

It’s nearly three in the afternoon. It’s quiet. Harry’s on his phone instead of doing the cups and your wiping the empty tables to keep yourself moving. The door opens and you glance over to make sure Harry’s alert. He’s not.

Doesn’t matter. It’s him. Raymond. You stand and clutch the cloth tight in your hand as you greet him.

“Be right with you, Raymond,” you assure him.

He barely looks at you as he goes to wait next to his table. You go behind the counter and mutter under your breath in Harry’s direction, “...dirty cups.” You wash your hands and make sure to clink some of the empty porcelain in an effort to draw your coworker’s attention. He’s still entranced by his phone.

You take the disinfectant wipes and go back out. You approach Raymond as he checks his watch.

“How are you today?” You ask.

He grumbles and shrugs, “fine.”

“English Breakfast, black,” you declares as you finish wiping up, “usual.”

“So you remember,” he challenges as he steps close, closer than ever, before sidling around to sit.

“Of course, I always do,” you smile.

“And last time?”

“Last time...”

“Twice.”

You’re confused. What is he talking about?

“I came on Tuesday and you weren’t here. Then on Thursday, you didn’t even say hello.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry, Raymond, it was a busy day. Tuesday, I had a personal emergency so I didn’t even know you’d been in--”

“I’ll have my tea now,” he interjects tersely.

“Right, tea,” you confirm and spin around.

“Crooked strings,” he remarks dully, “again.”

#raymond smith #dark raymond smith #raymond smith x reader #dark!raymond smith #drabble #series #to a tea #sweet and spicy #the gentlemen #au

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vimbry · 5 months

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*if you've heard a couple songs but don't really know much about them, or haven't listened in a long while, you can play!

update: the highest votes went to gudetama. but was it correct? here are the full titles and albums.

❌ "put your hand inside the puppet head" - they might be giants

the opening verse makes reference to leaving one's job and how "it's sad to say, you will romanticise all the things you've known before. it was not, not, not so great". according to flansburgh, "the lyric revolves around the idea that looking back on anything colors it in sentimentality".

❌ "I'll sink manhattan" - they'll need a crane (ep)/miscellaneous T

this is a flansburgh song, but linnell explained its meaning in a 1989 interview with NME as "a song about a guy who somehow figures out how to sink the island of manhattan just to kill his ex-lover, so it's his apology to the other people he's gonna kill in between. he's just gotta do it!"

❌ "meet james ensor" - john henry

it's about james ensor (belgium's famous painter).

❌ "wicked little critta" - mink car

from the tmbg unlimited collection: "forged in the crucible of an eastern massachusetts junior high, this song expresses the dreams, fears and hopes of a new england young adult" the lyrics seem to suggest said young adult fantasising about being a sports star alongside bobby orr and john havlicek while goofing off outside.

❌ "working undercover for the man" - mink car

from flansburgh: "it's more a meditation on the "mod squad" [a 1968 crime series about cool undercover detectives] than anything else. the idea of the narc just seems... like, those episodes of "dragnet" where they have the young undercover dress in a hippie suit."

✔️ "talent is an asset" - kimono my house

the lyrics illustrate an overly-cautious family shielding their very gifted child from others, to keep him studious and soak in all the glory, and is heavily implied to be little albert einstein through puns on relatives and relativity. it's not by them, tho. it's by the band sparks. it came 2nd, so I think many of you recognised it (or really wanted to see the results!)

❌ "bee of the bird of the moth" - the else

"this is a song about a creature called a hummingbird moth, which imitates another creature, which imitates yet another creature. it's completely fucked up, and can only be explained in song!" so they did.

❌ "2082" - join us

thewrap's review of the album describes this song as, "a science-fiction short story (...) a protagonist who travels into the future, finds himself hobbled but still unhappily alive all the way into the next millennium, and travels back to the title year to smother himself with a pillow in a mercy killing". fun!

❌ "call you mom" - nanobots

referred to by linnell as an "oedipus pan" song, the lyrics follow an unfortunate young man beginning a relationship with a woman, getting dumped due to his behaviour of treating her like a mother figure, then infantilising a possibly younger woman in a different relationship and in turn leaving her, who goes on to experience the same issues. fun! (altho, the final chorus actually still refers to her Mom leaving, not her dad, I got the details wrong there in the poll).

❌ "gudetama's busy days" - dial-a-song / my murdered remains

yes, that's a real song. quote flansburgh: "(...) it is really just about feeling isolated from the world, even if you are in a crowded place and manically trying to keep up with your life. the character of gudetama appealed to me because he is such a mopey sad sack."

❌ "marty beller mask" - album raises new and troubling questions

this is real, too! it's just about how marty beller was actually an alter ego of whitney houston the whole time. he's not, but wouldn't that be interesting. the song name-checks multiple of her own in the lyrics. it was temporarily retired out of respect following houston's death (4 months after its release), returning to live performances ten years later in 2022.

#I know this minor detail might make one obvious but I can't let it slide!#sorry everyone. would you kindly delete any old versions and pass it around again. <3 #tmbg

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heart2beom · 2 years

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open the door, mr. choi!

synopsis: going up to yeonjun's dorm, the man you believe to be a complete tool, and asking to use his shower isn't very fun.

genre: one sided enemies to lovers, fluff, angst??

pairing: yeonjun x f!reader

warning: very unrealistic writing of living on campus (i'm manifesting here..), a curse word here and there

author notes: this is so incredibly short but i like writing banter so..lol this really is just banter. reblogging is appreciated!

Transferring to a different college mid semester for better opportunities proved to be that mistake. The mistake you realize is going to be hard to top, the biggest one you've made in your entire life.

In addition to losing daily contact with your friends, you were in a complete foreign city, practically stranded. You had zero relationship with your professors, there were completely different material you had to learn to pass exams, and you had no time to make any friends. even after you decided to go through the on-campus housing route, You were only on friendly speaking terms with your roommate.

You wished you reviewed the dormitories, but you hadn't which then cost you to learn that the girls dormitory had constant complaints about water supply; it was either the sink, the toilet, or the shower — it would just decide to stop working.

Thankfully, the time you've spent living with your roommate, you only experienced one — the sink. There were problems with it practically every other day, ten times more constant than everybody else. Which caused you to naively believe it canceled out all the other occuring problems everyone else had.

So, imagine your surprise when you walk in under the shower head, butt naked, with not one drop coming out on your hair.

"Yunjin!" you yell out, panicking as you adjust the diverter still with no sign of water. "Yunjin is the water out!?"

You sigh when you can't hear a response through the door, and opted to step out the shower, and carefully walk towards the door. You slightly open it, making sure to only poke your head out as your eyes wandered around the dorm.

Great, there's no sign of her.

When you get dressed again, you throw yourself on your bed, staring at the time on your phone. 8:39PM.

Your roommate had helped you out with getting a blind date, in hopes of "putting yourself out there". Though at the time you didn't meet her with much excitement, pretending to despise the idea—Currently, you were practically a few seconds away from pulling out your hair at the thought of missing it.

For god sake, you haven't been on a date since, what, two years? And even worse, when you finally got a chance, you weren't ditching the date on your own accord, but because you couldn't shower!

"I'm gonna fucking sue them!" you shout, directing your pit of rage at your ceiling. Though, right after, you bury your face in your pillow, groaning like a little child, knowing that no matter how many complaints you submit, there would be zero response. So, at the moment, it felt like the best thing to do was give up.

Give up and ...reschedule.

No, you can't—you won't. You have to go on the date—today. An adrenaline-like surge of determination motivates you to shoot up from your bed, and quickly head to your bathroom again. You will go on this date, you owe it to Yunjin—and also, to yourself.

When you look at the counter, you immediately spot the magic wand practically ogling at you, begging you to use it. Your deodorant.

What other option did you have? When you pick up the deodorant stick, you shut your eyes, praying that the combination between deodorant and perfume could manage to make you smell good enough. You exhale, the gross thought making it hard for you to even lift your shirt.

You hear a ping of your phone, quickly opening your eyes, dropping your hand, which in turn also gets your hand off the piece of fabric you were holding.

When you look at the notification, you exhaustedly exhale, your shoulders dropping. It wasn't surprising to see it was him. Yeonjun—the guy you've been working on a project with for the past few months.

And also, the guy you've been trying to avoid ever since you got assigned the project. He was practically a mosquito, buzzing near your ears every waking moment of the day. It was easier for him when he got your number, as per your professor's request. According to her, it would be easier for you two to communicate with each other's contact numbers.

But you begged to differ, especially after these tortuous days of having your phone go off randomly throughout the day. All it did was tear away your focus from more important matters.

You opt to ignore the text, like you always do— and focus on your preparation for your date. That is, until a light bulb lights up above your head, halting your movement, as you furrow your brows in thought.

The boy's dormitory never had an issue with water, it was a usual complaint you'd overhear girls around you say in your morning classes. Their issue was odor. Which you would bet a few cents that that was specifically the consequence of the herd of men living in one space, but you digress.

Sure, you aren't very fond of the idea to go up to the man you find pretty repulsive—in terms of personality, repulsive. He was the walking definition of a douche, but you just got a date, in two years! Who knows the next time you'll get the golden opportunity again? So, you grab your towel and head out the bathroom.

You only hope that your lack of answering back texts wouldn't backfire on you.

Though it took him a few knocks, Yeonjun finally opens his door. His jaw slacks a little and brows raised, clearly taken back by your sudden visit. You wait for him to say something—or rather, you take the time to study his figure for a good second; your eyes instinctually taking in how...good he looks. His dyed hair subtly spiking his eyes, his lips looking a little more pink than usual, and the flowy dress shirt being down two button, exposing his chest—

"Y/N checking out Yeonjun part, what, a hundred?" he stupidly grins, leaning on his door frame with his arms crossed.

"Part zero." you deadpan, he was back to getting on your nerves.

"Right..." he purses his lip, which earns an audible scoff from you, his confidence was astoundingly high. Normally, you'd think it was a praiseworthy trait, confident people are cool, but Yeonjun was something else.

"Okay—look, I have no time to waste. I need your help." you say, cutting to the chase.

"Clearly..." Yeonjun says, his gaze falling to the towel hanging on one arm, and a plastic bag tight in your hand.

"First, sorry for coming here so unexpectedly—"

"Hold on," he raises up a hand to stop you, which is an annoying thing he's been doing to you lately. "Did you just apologize? To me?" he then puts a hand on his heart, pouting like a child.

When you try to open your mouth again, his finger was on your lips in attempt to shut you up — he was getting dangerously confident. You glare at him, which sends the message loud and clear as he drops his hand immediately.

"Look, if you're here for the project, I can't. I actually have a bedtime I have to follow through."

You furrow your eyebrows in disbelief. "A bedtime? What are you? Twelve?"

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval. "Damn it Y/N, this was the part where you were supposed to prove to me that you're worthy of me letting you in my dorm."

"I'm not here for the project, Yeonjun." you sigh, your energy drained from all his talking.

"Then what? It's like—" he raises his wrist to take a look at his watch. And to your dismay, his smug smile prepares you for some more teasing. "My, my, my. Coming to my dorm at nine? So I see it you changed your mind about, you know..." he puckers his lips in attempt to make smooching noises, which only earned a judgemental stare from your side.

"We're never going to have sex—ugh, I just came to use your shower, the one at my dorm stopped working." you've learned to stop yourself from engaging with his antics, it only cost you more social battery after all.

"Ah." he says, biting his lip as he appears to think more of your request. "I'm sorry, can't." he concludes.

"Huh? Why?" you ask then immediately groan at a thought, "God, do you have a girl naked in there?"

"You don't realize it sometimes Y/N, but you are a slut shamer."

You deadpan, letting out a long sigh. "Are you calling yourself a slut?"

"Frankly, for your information, I don't have a girl in there. She actually left a few minutes ago." he says ignoring your question, though he couldn't be happier from the annoyed reaction he got out of you— which he was quick to love and appreciate the more he got it.

You roll your eyes, "So, why can't you?"

"Glad you asked," he says, reaching in his pockets to dig out something. He faces his phone to you, your messages open, only blue texts being on the screen. "You've been ghosting me for like, two weeks."

So your lack of replying back is biting you in the ass.

You didn't have time, dropping the plastic bag full of your date clothes, reaching out to your pocket to get your phone.

You quickly type up an 'okay' without reading the text, and hit send. When you hear the sound of a notification from his phone, you put up a tight lipped smile as you shove your phone in your pockets, picking up your clothes and pushing yourself in his dorm.

Yeonjun broke into a smile you don't catch, as he looks back to you. "Breaking and entering is a felony Y/N!" he yells out.

You ignore him, your attention more focused on how weirdly neat his place was. Was he a fast cleaner? Tidying up the place this fast after sex?

You guessed that was what a long duration of experience gives you — the ability to clean up in minutes. But then you noticed a computer open, with the desk it's on being surrounded with crumbled paper.

Odd.

You hear the door shut, guessing it was Yeonjun, which snaps you out of your thoughts as you immediately head to the bathroom. If you stayed a second later, there was a 50% chance he would've stopped you to ask questions.

When you enter the bathroom, and lock the door behind you, you're pleasantly caught by surprise.

The smell—the smell wasn't foul. You hate to admit, in the back of your mind, you'd always have this image of Yeonjun—a player who was gross.

You don't exactly know why you held onto it for so long since there were multiple, multiple times you got close enough, that your nose could pick up his cologne—it smelled really good, not too strong, just enough.

And when you stand there in his bathroom, weirdly finding yourself inhaling the scent of the air—it smelled pretty fucking good.

A loud knock on the door your back is leaning on startles you, making you jump. "Hey, hurry up! I'm giving you fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes? What a psycho.

You shake your head at your own ungratefulness—he was letting you borrow his shower, which you genuinely appreciated, so you undressed quickly in hopes of showering forty minutes max.

You didn't pick up your hair brush with you, so consequently you were spending a great deal of time untangling your hair with your towel—which wasn't very..effecitve.

You already changed, obviously, but your makeup was undone. Just lipgloss was all you had time to do, you thought in your head, disappointed.

Not to forget—Yeonjun has been talking to you through the door the moment you shut the running water—not proving the mosquito reincarnation theories you've been holding onto, to be wrong. He was driving you very close to the edge of insanity.

"You're taking so long." he whines for the hundredth time. "I have to show you something."

You groan, walking towards the door. You were clothed now anyway, if opening the door would finally fix Yeonjun's mouth being a broken record, you would happily do it.

He shuffles away from the door when you push it open, flustered as he clears his throat.

Was he leaning on the door?

"What do you want?"

You think you see his eyes scanning your outfit for a second, a hint of confusion overtaking his expression but he turns away to walk towards the computer—the one that was previously surrounded with balled up paper, so you ignore it. "You look hot but I'll decide to ignore that. I have to show you something."

You exhale, your hair still pretty untamed. "Alright, I don't have that much time though."

He let himself fall on his spinning office chair, as he gestures his hand for you to sit at the edge of his bed.

You clear your throat, waiting for him to stop stalling through his spinning.

And he does.

"Okay." he exhaled, a little shakily. Which was weird. "So, remember the text you sent okay too?"

"Yeonjun...that just happened. Like an hour ago."

"Yep, yeah. Cool, cool, cool." he repeats, opting to spin once more. You raise an eyebrow, is he trolling you?

"I didn't like—you know, read the text. I mean, I can."

"You didn't read it? You should. Actually—nope, no. You shouldn't. You should. Yeah, you should."

You knit your eyebrows together at his odd speaking patterns. Reaching for your phone, you click on the message icon—until a number pops up, calling you.

All of a sudden, you get nervous. Your hand getting all clammy as you swiped right on the call.

"Hi." you breath out, biting your lip in eagerness to hear your date's voice.

Yeonjun only watches you, cocking his head at the sudden mood change. No—he was tilting his head because of all of that. Your dress, the matching bag, your lipgloss.

He furrows his brows, still watching you stutter on the phone, and practically making a fool of yourself with the way you were stupidly, prettily smiling ear to ear.

You never did that with him. Okay, sure, he likes seeing you roll your eyes or scoff at his antics— it brings him pure joy! But god, thinking now, he would appreciate it a hundred times more if your reaction to him was a smile—that smile instead. Or a laugh. Or a hug, maybe a kiss—

Time didn't wait for anyone—connecting the dots unfortunately only happened the moment you hung up the phone.

"Sorry, that was my date. I really have to go. What do you want to show me?"

"Um—uh...gross!"

You scrunch up your face, taken aback. "What?"

"You—you have, like, spinach stuck between your teeth."

Your eyes widen in shock immediately getting off the bed, but then you halt, turning to look at Yeonjun. "But I didn't eat spinach today. Or yesterday." you mumble.

"Well, I'm sorry I'm not a professional chef that can tell what that nasty piece of green leaf is in between your teeth."

"God, is it that bad?" you ask in horror, not waiting for his reply as you burst into the bathroom.

Meanwhile as you check your teeth in the mirror, Yeonjun immediately grabs the phone you left on his bed, which was still open—letting him breath in relief.

He immediately went on to his name on your phone to open the messages between you two—it was ridiculous but a smile still tugged on his lips for a split second when he noticed his contact name was the one he typed in a few months ago, still 'hottest man alive'—he took it a sign you didn't disagree... or it could be that you were too lazy to change it.

But he immediately shook his head out of the thought — doing his job of deleting the message that you sent an okay to.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you say with wide eyes, snatching your phone away from the boys hand.

"Just checking the time." he says with an awkward smile, a little startled of your sudden presence.

"On my phone? You literally have a watch." you say, your tone laced with confusion. Which signaled Yeonjun to shoot up from his bed, pushing you out towards the door—there was no way out of this but to push you out, and hopefully the date being horrible enough for you to forget about confronting him about this tomorrow. And the day after tomorrow. Preferably, for the rest of his life on Earth.

"Time for you to leave!" he yells, finally getting you out of his dorm, and now out in the hallway.

Before you could say anything—for example, reminding him that 90% of the stuff you brought was still in the bathroom—he slammed the door right in your face.

When you recollect your shock, you scoff, your annoyance through the roof.

What was he looking at in your phone?

You open it, hoping to find the answer.

But you're only confused as you only see your chat with Yeonjun open.

And even more confused when the text length of the message before your 'okay' was way shorter than what you remember.

Meanwhile, Yeonjun was sitting on his desk chair, biting his lip as he hesitantly hit the delete button on the music project he's been working on.

ending a/n: i think i'm allergic to ending a fic with the two pairings getting together cz tell me why this was deadass just enemies to ????? T_T

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sunflowersandsapphires · 18 days

Note

Congrats Sapph 👏 How about a Sunflower for Matt where Matt surprises Reader with a baked treat (store bought or homemade is up to you) after an awful, terrible, no good, very bad day?

Trudging towards your apartment door, your feet ached terribly. You’d been running around all day, mimicking a chicken with its head cut off no doubt, trying to meet your employer's impossible standards as you approached the end of the quarter. The stress of the month was palpable within your office, keeping you and your coworkers huddled in cubicles--ready to snap at any passing distractions.

You'd forgone many simple comforts in order to meet deadlines this week, which had steadily worsened your mood. Morning coffee with Matt. Slow, ambling walks to work, stopping for a pastry or a bagel from the corner deli. Even the pleasure of taking time to eat your lunch, rather than wolfing it down at your desk while tediously reviewing an Excel spreadsheet.

Your mornings were starting earlier than ever, forcing you to press a hasty kiss to Matt's cheek before you dashed into the dawn-lit city without him. Nights had become equally unsatisfying, tension at work leaving you so strung out you shoveled a slapped-together bowl of leftovers into your mouth before collapsing into bed before Matt even left the office.

Matt, always the loving boyfriend, hadn't complained once--instead leaving supportive messages on your phone and stocking the fridge with take out. Being forced to neglect your criminally compassionate partner was slowly breaking your heart.

A few more days and the madness would be over. The thought made you want to sob; the light at the end of the tunnel still seemed impossibly far away.

Sliding your rusted key into the lock, you unlatched the bolt and shouldered into the apartment. Toeing off your shoes, you inhaled shakily, tears building on your waterline. With dragging footsteps, you rounded the corner into your studio and gaped.

”What..the..fuck?“

The exasperated question meandered through the destroyed space as you stood staring at the mess. Your kitchen was in ruins. Flour and sugar coated your counters, used mixing bowls were strewn across every flat surface, and there was another pile of dishes in your sink. Eyes flitting around the room, you verified that you hadn't somehow broken into a neighbor's place.

As far as you knew, your place had been comfortably disheveled this morning. Chaotic but organized. What on earth had happened when you were at work? Had the pilsbury dough boy been murdered in your home?

Rage tangling with the confusion in your chest, you stalked towards the mess, swiping a finger through the residue on your countertops. Before you could decide whether to laugh or cry at your own misfortune, the door opened, making you jump.

Down the hallway, bearing a bashful smile, was Matt.

”I am so sorry, sweetheart. I lost track of time.” Pacing over to you, Matt extended his arms, letting you fall against him. The paper bag in his left hand crinkled as he tightened the embrace. ”I will clean all of this up, I promise.“

”Um, what..what are you doing here?“ You settled on a less frustrated question, knowing Matt's explanation would probably wash your anger away.

”I was hoping to have a snack ready for you when you got home. You've been having such a tough few weeks, I wanted to do something for you. So I called your mom for that pumpkin cake recipe you like so much.“ One hand kneading your back, Matt unwrapped the parcel with his other hand. ”But your nutmeg was expired and I wanted it to be perfect so I--“

”You're making a pumpkin roll?“ You asked in surprise, your vision blurring with tears as your emotions overwhelmed you.

”I was trying!“ Matt chuckled, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”I'm so sorry about the mess. I didn't mean to stress you out.“

”You didn't.“ You sniffled, tears falling in earnest now. ”I mean, maybe at first, but I don't care about the dishes now. You're just...“

Reluctantly allowing Matt to step away from you, your eyes fluttered shut as he brushed the damp trails from your cheeks with his fingertips. ”I'm just what?“ Matt smirked, clearly holding back an affectionate laugh.

Diving back into his chest, you nuzzled his shoulder with a sigh. ”Perfect, Matt. You're perfect. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Why don't you go turn something on the TV while I finish in the kitchen?”

Nearly groaning at how heavenly Matt's suggestion sounded, you pecked his lips before pulling away. “Sit with me once it's in the oven?”

“Of course, love.” Pressing a final kiss to your forehead, Matt whisked off to finish what he'd started, leaving you to stare after him with a look of gratitude.

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mariacallous · 10 days

Text

“There are only so many books on Ukraine we can review each month,” an editor from a major British newspaper tells me at one of the country’s largest literary festivals. He looks a bit uncomfortable, almost apologetic. He wants me to understand that if it were up to him, he’d review a book on Ukraine every day, but that’s just not how the industry works.

Since the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion, I’ve had a glimpse into how several industries work: Publishing, journalism, and the broader world of culture, including galleries and museums. Even before the big war, I knew more than I wanted to about how academia works (or rather doesn’t) when it comes to Ukraine. A common thread among all these fields is the limited attention they allocate to countries that do not occupy a place among the traditional big players of imperial politics.

Cultural imperialism lives on, even if its carriers often proclaim anti-colonial slogans. It thrives in gate-keeping, with editors and academics mistrusting voices that don’t sound like those higher up the ladder, while platforming those who have habitually been accepted as authoritative. “We’ve done Ukraine already” is a frequent response whenever you pitch an idea, text, or public event centering the country.

The editor who can’t keep publishing reviews of Ukraine-related books walks away, and I pick up a copy of one of the UK’s most prominent literary magazines to see their book recommendations. Out of a handful of reviews, three are on recent books about Russia. It seems like the space afforded to Russia remains unlimited. I close the publication to keep my blood pressure down.

Keeping my blood pressure down, however, is challenging. When my social media feeds aren’t advertising another production of Uncle Vanya, they’re urging me to splash out on opera tickets for Eugene Onegin. What happened to the dreaded “cancelling” of Russian culture? The Russia section in most bookshops I visit in the UK is growing daily with everything from yet another translation of Dostoevsky to accounts of opposition figures killed or imprisoned by the Kremlin.

The international media focus on the August 2024 release of Russian political prisoners was yet another example of how the more things change, the more they stay the same. While these released prisoners were provided with a global media platform to call for an end to “unfair” sanctions on “ordinary Russians,” there was no mention of the thousands of Ukrainian civilians who continue to languish in Russian jails.

The ongoing international emphasis on all things Russian goes hand in hand with a reluctance to transform growing interest in Ukraine into meaningful structural changes in how the country is perceived, reported on, and understood. Although there has been some improvement in knowledge about Ukraine since 2022, the move is essentially from having no understanding to having a superficial grasp.

Each time I read a piece on Ukraine by someone not well-versed in the country’s history and politics, my heart sinks. The chances are it will recycle historical cliches, repeat Kremlin propaganda about Russophone Ukrainians, or generalize about regional differences. And to add insult to injury, such articles also often misspell at least one family or place name, using outdated Russian transliterations. A quick Google search or a message to an actual Ukrainian could prevent these errors and save the author from looking foolish. Yet aiding this kind of colonial complacency seems to bother neither the authors nor the editors involved.

I often wonder what would happen if I wrote a piece on British or US politics and misspelt the names of historical figures, towns, and cities. How likely would I be to get it published? And yet the same standards do not apply when it comes to writing about countries that have not been granted priority status in our mental hierarchies of the world. We can misspell them all we like; no one will notice anyway. Apart from the people from those countries, of course. And when an exasperated Ukrainian writes to complain, I can almost see the editors rolling their eyes and thinking, “What does this perpetually frustrated nation want now? We’ve done Ukraine. Why are they never satisfied?”

It is not enough to simply “do Ukraine” by reviewing one book on the war, especially if it’s by a Western journalist rather than a Ukraine-based author. It’s not enough to host one exhibition, particularly if it is by an artist or photographer who only spent a few weeks in the country. Quickly putting together a panel on Russia’s war in response to a major development at the front and adding a sole Ukrainian voice at the last minute doesn’t cut it either. This box-ticking approach is unhelpful and insulting.

It is important to acknowledge that some Western media outlets have significantly enhanced their coverage of Ukraine over the past two and a half years. They have typically done so by dedicating time and resources to having in-house experts who have either reported from Ukraine for many years, or who are committed to deepening their knowledge enough to produce high-quality analysis. However, many of these outlets still seem compelled to provide platforms for individuals entirely unqualified to analyse the region. Surely this isn’t what balance means?

Since February 2022, more than 100 Ukrainian cultural figures have been killed in the war. According to the Ukrainian Ministry of Culture, by May 2024, over 2,000 cultural institutions had been damaged or destroyed. This includes 711 libraries, 116 museums and galleries, and 37 theatres, cinemas, and concert halls. In May 2024, Russia bombed Factor Druk, the country’s biggest printing house.

When I attended this year’s Kyiv Book Arsenal, Ukraine’s largest literary festival, each panel began with a minute of silence to honor the memory of colleagues killed in the war. All this is in addition to mounting military losses, many of whom are yesterday’s civilians, including journalists and creatives who have either volunteered or been drafted into the army. This is the current state of the Ukrainian creative industry.

To save time for Western editors, publishers, and curators, let me clarify what all of us perpetually frustrated Ukrainians want. We would appreciate it if they turned to actual Ukraine specialists when working on Ukraine-related themes. Not those who suddenly pivoted from specializing in Russia, or who feel entitled to speak authoritatively because they discovered a distant Ukrainian ancestor, or those who have only recently shown interest in Ukraine due to business opportunities in the country’s reconstruction. We would be grateful if they took the time to seek out experts who have been studying Ukraine long before it became fashionable, who understand the country in all its complexity, and who care enough to offer Ukrainians the basic dignity of having their names spelt correctly.

I like to fantasise about a time when editors of top Western periodicals will choose to review books on Ukraine not simply because the country is at war and they feel obliged to cover it now and again, but because these books offer vital insights into democracy, the fight for freedom, or the importance of maintaining unity and a sense of humor in times of crisis. I hope for a day when galleries will host exhibitions of Ukrainian art, not just because it was rescued from a war zone, but because the artists involved provide fresh perspectives on the world.

I also dream that we, the perpetually frustrated Ukraine specialists, will eventually be able to focus on our own scholarship and creativity rather than correcting the mistakes and misleading takes of others. This will happen when cultural institutions, publishing houses, universities, and newspapers acquire in-house experts whose knowledge of Ukraine and the wider region extends beyond Russia.

Dr Olesya Khromeychuk is a historian and writer. She is the author of The Death of a Soldier Told by His Sister (2022). Khromeychuk has written for The New York Times, The New York Review of Books, The Guardian, Der Spiegel, Prospect, and The New Statesman, and has delivered a TED talk on What the World Can Learn From Ukraine’s Fight for Democracy. She has taught the history of East-Central Europe at several British universities and is currently the Director of the Ukrainian Institute London.

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rylem33 · 9 days

Text

A Dark Friday

It's a dark rainy Friday where I am. So I wrote this. I hope you enjoy! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The buzzing of Friday’s alarm jolted her awake. She reached over, silencing the noise with a clumsy swipe. 6:00 AM. Another early morning. She lay there for a moment, letting herself sink back into the quiet. It was one of those rare moments when everything seemed still, calm.

Enjoy it while it lasts, she thought, swinging her legs out of bed. Her body ached a little, but that was nothing new. She hadn’t slept much the night before—superhero work never did care about sleep schedules.

It had started with a petty crime—some guy trying to rob a corner store with a knife. Nothing too serious, but serious enough. She’d stepped in just in time, using her telekinesis to send the knife skidding across the floor before the guy even knew what hit him. The store owner had been grateful, offering her a free soda, which she’d declined with a polite smile. It was her duty, after all. Friday didn’t do it for rewards or recognition. She did it because it was right.

She was known. Well, the superhero version of her was known. Friday herself? She was just another face in the crowd. Just an average office worker, keeping her head down like everyone else. But when she put on the mask, that’s when things changed. People in her corner of the city called her the quiet hero. The one who did the right thing, even when no one was looking. No flashy powers, no big costume, nothing like the big names in the hero world. Just quiet telekinesis and a determination to keep people safe. And people respected her for it. They didn’t know who she was under the mask—didn’t know about the woman who filed paperwork and made small talk at the office—but they knew her work. That was enough.

Friday pulled on her work clothes, glancing in the mirror to make sure she looked… ordinary. That was key. No one at the insurance agency could ever guess she spent her nights stopping crimes. They’d just see the same woman they always saw—responsible, quiet, always on time.

A faint shiver ran down her spine as she finished getting ready. Something felt off this morning, but she brushed it away. It was probably nothing. It’s just one of those days.

She reached for her keys on the table but paused. She didn’t need to grab them manually—a little telekinesis would save the trouble. With a small flick of her fingers, she focused on pulling the keys toward her.

Instead of gently lifting off the table, the keys shot across the room like a bullet, smacking into the wall with a metallic clatter and dropping behind a cabinet.

“Ugh!” Friday muttered, hurrying over to fish them out. That definitely wasn’t supposed to happen. She crouched down, retrieving the keys from behind the furniture, her brows furrowed in confusion.

Weird.

She stared at the dent in the wall for a moment, then she grabbed her bag and headed for the door.

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

Friday sat at her desk, the soft hum of office chatter filling the background. Papers were stacked neatly in front of her, just the way she liked it. The morning was routine—email check, document review, small talk with co-workers about the weather.

She glanced at the clock. 10:15 AM. She was running behind on a report, and the stack of papers in front of her wasn’t going to organize itself.

Or… maybe it could.

Friday quickly looked around the office. No one was paying attention—everyone was glued to their computers or deep in conversation. She let out a slow breath, then flicked her fingers under her desk, her eyes narrowing in concentration as she focused on the top stack of papers.

Just a little nudge. It’s harmless.

The papers shifted, lifting gently off the desk. Friday smiled to herself—easy. She guided the stack toward the edge of her desk, ready to settle it into a neat pile on the other side.

But instead of a smooth landing, the papers exploded. They scattered in every direction, flying wildly around the room like leaves in a windstorm. Several pages shot into the ceiling, a few fluttered to the floor, and one—please no—landed directly in her boss’s coffee cup across the room.

“Wha—what the—?” Her boss, Mr. Daniels, looked down at his soaked document in confusion, lifting it out of the cup with two fingers.

Panic flared in Friday’s chest. Oh no, no, no! She stood up abruptly, knocking her chair over with a loud clatter. Every head in the office turned to look.

“Whoops!” Friday blurted out, her voice too bright, too forced. “Sorry! I tripped!”

She bent down to pick up the chair, her face burning as she tried to collect the scattered papers. No one seemed to question it—most of them shrugged and went back to work, assuming she’d just been clumsy. But her heart was racing, and her hands trembled as she grabbed the papers.

Mr. Daniels glanced at her, eyebrow raised, but said nothing. He pulled the soggy paper out of his cup and shook his head before sitting back down.

Friday dropped into her chair, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips as she started gathering the rest of the papers from the floor. What is going on with my powers? They had never been this unpredictable. First the keys, and now this? She couldn’t afford to keep messing up like this, especially not at work. If anyone ever suspected she had powers… she didn’t even want to think about that.

She smoothed the papers back into a pile, forcing herself to breathe. Just get through the day. It’ll pass.

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

Friday sat at the table with her co-workers, forcing a smile as they chatted and laughed about some office gossip. It was a typical lunch break—nothing out of the ordinary, and for a moment, she felt like she could relax. She waited for her salad, half-listening as Karen, from accounting, went on about her new puppy.

It was nice to unwind. After the chaos with the papers earlier, she needed a break. Everything felt normal again.

Until the server approached with their food.

Friday’s eyes drifted to the tray, and her stomach gave a small grumble. Karen’s burger. Juicy, perfectly cooked, oozing with cheese and crispy bacon. It looked so much better than her bland salad. Without thinking, she leaned forward a bit, her attention locked on the burger.

Suddenly, it slid an inch across the tray.

Her breath caught in her throat. Before she could react, the burger jerked again, this time more forcefully—right off the tray. The server stumbled, trying to catch the plate, but it was too late. Everything hit the floor with a crash, the tray clattering as fries, plates, and silverware scattered everywhere.

“Oh my God!” Karen gasped, jumping back as ketchup splattered across her shoes.

The entire restaurant seemed to pause for a second, the clatter of dropped plates echoing as people turned to see the commotion.

“I am so sorry!” the server stammered, kneeling down to clean up the mess, her face red with embarrassment.

Friday sat frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. She hadn’t moved a muscle. She hadn’t done anything. But that burger… she knew she’d pulled it toward her with her telekinesis. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut.

Her powers had acted on their own. She hadn’t even tried.

“Wow, bad luck,” one of her co-workers said, shaking her head at the mess. “You okay, Friday?”

“Y-yeah,” Friday managed to say, her voice sounding far away. She forced herself to smile, but inside she felt the panic rising. What just happened? This was different from earlier. This wasn’t just a small glitch. She hadn’t been thinking about using her powers at all, yet they’d taken over, as if drawn out by some stray desire.

Her heart was racing. She stared down at her salad, suddenly feeling sick. Something was very, very wrong.

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

Friday sat back at her desk, trying to push the lunch disaster out of her mind. She just needed to focus. If she could stay focused, everything would be fine. The rest of the day would pass without incident, and whatever weirdness was happening with her powers would stop.

It has to stop, she thought, staring at the spreadsheet on her screen. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but the numbers blurred in front of her eyes. She was too on edge, too anxious.

The office was filled with the usual afternoon energy. People were moving around, talking, making plans for the weekend. Her eyes drifted toward the break area, where Fred, the smarmy salesman, was leaning against the wall, his signature grin plastered across his face. He was talking to Janie from marketing, who looked more than a little uncomfortable as Fred made some joke she clearly didn’t find funny.

Friday scowled. Fred was always like this—overly flirty, never taking the hint. He’d been warned about his behavior before, but it didn’t seem to stick. She could feel the irritation building, her focus narrowing on Fred and his obnoxious smirk.

Suddenly, there was a loud tear. Fred froze mid-sentence, his face suddenly turning bright red as his pants ripped open at the seam, revealing his checkered boxers. Janie’s eyes widened, and a few nearby co-workers stifled laughter as Fred scrambled to cover himself with his hands.

“Uh… I think I’ll catch up with you later,” Janie said, quickly backing away.

Fred mumbled something unintelligible, his face still burning as he darted toward the restroom to fix the wardrobe malfunction. The laughter that followed him seemed to echo throughout the office.

Friday’s heart skipped a beat. Did I… just do that?

She glanced around, but no one seemed to notice her. Everyone was too busy laughing at Fred to even consider that it might have been anything more than a random accident. But she knew. Her powers had acted on that stray thought—without her even trying.

Her stomach knotted. Keep it together. Don’t let it get worse.

She turned back to her screen, trying to type, but her mind kept racing. As the minutes ticked by, small things kept happening.

Her phone buzzed with a notification, but the volume didn’t seem loud enough. She glanced at it, thinking about how annoying it was that she couldn’t hear it clearly, when the sound suddenly blasted to full volume, ringing out through the office. She jumped, slapping her hand over the phone to silence it, drawing startled glances from a few nearby co-workers.

“Sorry!” she squeaked, her face flushing.

A few minutes later, she overheard Megan from HR loudly complaining about some mistake in payroll. Megan had a habit of getting under Friday’s skin, her voice grating with every drawn-out word. Without even realizing it, Friday glared in her direction, wishing Megan would just… shut up.

And then she did.

Megan’s voice cut off mid-sentence, her lips moving but no sound coming out. Her face twisted in confusion as she cleared her throat and tried to speak again, but only a tiny squeak came out.

“Oh no,” Friday whispered, her stomach flipping. She stared at her hands, feeling the panic start to rise again.

Everything she wanted was just… happening. And it wasn’t stopping.

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

Friday gripped the steering wheel tighter than usual as she drove downtown. Her mind raced, replaying the bizarre events of the day—Fred’s pants ripping, Megan losing her voice, the server at lunch dropping those plates. It was all too much to ignore now. Her powers were acting without her consent. Every stray thought, every fleeting desire was manifesting itself, and it was getting harder to control.

She took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. I just need to get home. I’ll figure this out later. Just keep it together until then.

As she switched lanes, the driver behind her honked aggressively, speeding up and cutting her off. Before she could stop herself, she felt a surge of anger. Her teeth clenched, and her grip on the wheel tightened even more.

Jerk, she thought bitterly, her eyes narrowing on the car that had just swerved in front of her.

The thought barely had time to register when, in the distance, she saw the car veer sharply to the right, the tires screeching as it suddenly swerved off the road and straight into a nearby pole. The sound of metal crunching filled the air, and Friday’s breath caught in her throat.

The car’s driver stumbled out, dazed but unharmed, waving off a few concerned bystanders. Friday’s pulse quickened, her heart pounding as she slowed down, passing by the wreck.

For a moment, she felt relief. The driver was okay—just shaken up—but a small part of her couldn’t help but think… They deserved it. They’d cut her off, after all. Maybe it was a little payback.

She felt a shiver of guilt crawl up her spine, but the satisfaction was still there, lingering like a whisper. That wasn’t me… was it? But deep down, Friday knew the truth.

It was her.

The car had crashed because she had wanted it to. Her powers, fueled by her irritation, had once again taken over. And this time, it wasn’t just a harmless prank or an embarrassing accident. It was real.

Friday’s hands shook slightly on the wheel as she drove the rest of the way toward downtown, the city’s towering buildings coming into view. She tried to push the unsettling thoughts away, to focus on her nightly patrol. I have to stay in control.

But the more she tried to bury them, the more they grew.

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

Friday walked the streets of downtown, her thoughts still stuck on what had happened earlier. She was patrolling out of habit, trying to keep her mind off everything that had gone wrong during the day. But it wasn’t working.

Her powers were slipping out of control, and that scared her. She needed to focus. Patrols usually helped with that. Tonight, though, the streets were quiet leaving her with her thoughts.

She glanced around as she passed under the dim glow of streetlights. A few people walked by, heading home after a long day, but nothing unusual. Nothing to distract her. She shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, trying to stay calm.

Then, she heard it.

A woman’s voice, sharp and panicked, cut through the stillness.

“Stop! Somebody help!”

Friday’s head snapped up. She followed the sound, breaking into a run. As she turned the corner, she saw it—a man sprinting down an alley, clutching a woman’s purse. The woman stood a few feet away, shouting after him, trying to give chase.

Finally, Friday thought, rushing toward the scene. Her powers kicked in almost instinctively. She focused on the purse, pulling it away from the thief with her telekinesis. It worked—too well.

The purse shot out of the man’s hands, but so did he. He slammed into the alley wall with a thud, collapsing to the ground, groaning in pain.

Friday froze for a moment, staring at the man slumped against the brick, his leg jutting out at an awkward angle. She hadn’t meant to hit him that hard.

The woman ran over, panting, eyes wide as she looked between Friday and the thief. “Oh my God, thank you! I don’t know what would’ve happened if—” Her voice trailed off as she noticed the man, barely moving on the ground. “Is he…?”

“He’s fine,” Friday said quickly, her voice flat. She tossed the purse back to the woman. “You should get out of here.”

The woman hesitated for a second, looking at the thief again, then nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered before hurrying off into the night.

Friday stood over the thief, her heart pounding. He was still conscious, groaning, reaching for his leg. He wasn’t seriously hurt, maybe a broken leg. He definitely wasn’t walking away anytime soon.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She knew she should call for help, but something kept her rooted in place. The anger she’d felt when she saw him snatch that purse… she’d let it slip out, and her powers had acted on it.

But the more she thought about it, the more she realized it felt good.

He deserved it. He was a thief. He would’ve hurt that woman if she hadn’t stepped in.

Friday clenched her fists, taking a step back. Her powers had flared up, sure, but wasn’t that what they were for? Stopping people like him? She’d done the right thing. Maybe a little more forceful than necessary, but still.

She looked up, noticing a couple of people watching from across the street. Some seemed impressed, but others whispered to each other, uneasy.

It didn’t matter. She had handled the situation. The thief had been stopped. That’s all that mattered.

Without another word, Friday walked away, leaving the man on the ground. She didn’t feel guilty. If anything, she felt stronger. In control.

And for the first time all day, she didn’t care that her powers had gone too far. She liked it.

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

Friday walked aimlessly, her thoughts clouded with the chaos from earlier. She wasn’t sure why her feet had brought her so close to the police precinct, but there she was, hanging back in the shadows as a group of officers stood outside, chatting. She wasn’t patrolling out of duty anymore. It was more like she needed a distraction, something to drown out the noise in her head.

She heard one of the officers mention an accident. Her heart skipped. She moved closer, just enough to catch the conversation.

“Yeah, that guy from earlier? The one who crashed on Maple?” The officer’s voice was tense. “Turns out he’s one of ours. A cop. Good guy. He’s lucky to be alive.”

Friday froze. They were talking about the man she had pushed into that pole. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach.

“Yeah, and it was weird as hell,” another officer chimed in. “The guy says he doesn’t remember how it happened—just lost control out of nowhere. Some witnesses said his car swerved all by itself.”

The knot tightened.

“We’re gonna do a full investigation,” the first officer continued. “We think a supe might’ve been involved.”

Friday’s pulse quickened. A full investigation? They didn’t know it was her. They couldn’t know. But the fact that they were digging into it—it was only a matter of time before they started looking in the right places.

She turned to leave, ready to disappear into the night before things got worse, but one of the officers caught sight of her. “Hey! You there!”

Her heart sank. She was still in her mask, still in her patrol gear. They had no idea she was responsible for the crash, but they recognized her type—a superhero.

The officer walked toward her, his eyes narrowing. “What are you doing hanging around here?”

“I was just…” Friday started, her voice trailing off as she tried to think of an excuse, her mind racing.

The officer snorted. “Typical. Another wannabe hero sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong.”

She shifted her weight, fighting the urge to walk away. Her powers simmered beneath the surface, her anxiety spiking with each second.

Another officer stepped forward, glaring at her. “We don’t need any help from a bunch of masked ‘supes.’ This city’s better off with real cops. People who actually know how to handle things.”

Friday’s jaw tightened. The tension in her chest built with every word they spat at her.

“Your kind thinks you’re above the law,” the first officer added, his tone sharp. “But guess what? We’re not gonna let a bunch of freaks run this city. You’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

Freaks. Trouble. The words rang in her ears, fueling the anger that had been building inside her all day.

She could feel it now—the worry about the investigation, the aggressive tone of the officers, the day’s frustrations—all pushing her closer to the edge. Her powers flickered, and for a moment, she thought about walking away. But she couldn’t.

“You think we need people like you?” the officer continued, stepping closer, his voice dripping with contempt. “You just get in the way. We handle the real problems. The real crimes. Stay out of it.”

That was it. The dam broke.

Before Friday could even register what she was doing, her telekinesis flared. The officer closest to her was suddenly thrown backward, slamming into the precinct wall with a heavy thud. His body crumpled to the ground, dazed.

The other officers reacted instantly, but Friday didn’t stop. The second officer lunged toward her, but she flung him back, sending him skidding across the pavement.

Panic surged through the crowd as other officers scrambled for cover, shouting into their radios. Backup was being called. The precinct buzzed with chaos.

But Friday wasn’t scared anymore. She felt angry.

“Stay out of it?” she muttered under her breath, her voice low. She glanced around, her powers crackling in the air. With a flick of her mind, she sent nearby objects flying—trash cans, parked bikes, even a police car shifted slightly on its wheels.

“You don’t need my help?” she said louder this time, her heart racing. “Fine. Let’s see how well you handle this without it.”

Another officer stepped forward, trying to talk her down, his hands raised in surrender. “Listen, we don’t want any trouble—”

But she didn’t listen. A surge of power erupted from her, shoving him backward like the others. Glass shattered as he hit the windows of the precinct. She could hear shouts inside, radios buzzing, but it only fueled the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

For the first time all day, she wasn’t trying to control it. She was letting go.

The police couldn’t stop her. No one could. And for the first time, that felt good.

As the chaos swirled around her, Friday turned and walked away, her footsteps steady and her mind clear. She didn’t care about the investigation anymore. She didn’t care about what came next. The worry that had gnawed at her all day was gone, replaced by something stronger.

This was power.

And she wasn’t holding it back anymore.

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

Friday sat at a table in the back of the dimly lit restaurant. She was alone in a secluded area, enjoying the meal in front of her. Gone were the days of restraint, of second-guessing every action. Now, she did what she wanted, when she wanted, without the endless loop of moral questioning. Consequences didn’t matter. They were for the weak, for the people who hadn’t yet realized the thrill of truly letting go.

She twirled her fork slowly, savoring the bite she’d just taken. Her powers had blossomed in the weeks since she’d stopped holding back, growing stronger, sharper. She could feel it humming beneath her skin at all times now, always there, always ready. It wasn’t something to control anymore—it was simply a part of her.

A faint smile crossed her lips as she leaned back in her chair, the warm taste of her meal still lingering on her tongue.

But just as she was about to enjoy another bite, a voice broke through the quiet.

“Boss… sorry to interrupt.”

Her hand froze mid-motion. The fork hovered near her lips as she turned her head slightly. A henchman, one of the low-level lackeys she’d picked up since embracing her new life, stood nervously by the table.

She didn’t look at him.

“I told you,” she said softly, her voice smooth but laced with threat, “I don’t like to be interrupted.”

“I know, but—”

Before he could finish, she flicked her fingers.

With a thought, his body crumpled to the ground. It was almost too easy now, barely an effort at all. He gasped, his breath leaving him as he curled into a heap at her feet, limbs twisted awkwardly. His face contorted in pain, but he didn’t dare scream.

Friday didn’t move. She didn’t even glance at him as she slowly set her fork back down on the table. Her focus returned to her plate, the food that had lost its warmth thanks to the intrusion. The audacity.

“I was enjoying that bite,” she murmured, as if speaking more to herself than to him. Her tone was calm, unbothered by the sight of him writhing in agony on the floor. She let him suffer for a moment longer, savoring the power that came so easily to her now.

After a beat, she finally spared him a glance. “Now, tell me. Was it worth ruining my meal?”

He gasped, struggling to form words. “No… no, I—”

Another flick of her hand, and his body eased just enough to breathe again. She wasn’t finished with him yet.

“Good.” She leaned back, her eyes cold. “You’ll heal. Next time, think before you come running to me.”

She took a slow, deliberate sip of her drink, watching quietly writhe on the floor. Another henchman watched from across the room but dared not interfere.

The interruption over, Friday picked up her fork again, lifting the next bite to her lips. She smiled, savoring the taste, the power, the complete control over everything around her.

This was her world now. And nothing—no one—could stop her.

#f2f transformation #personality change #f2f corruption #f2f

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cassimothwin · 2 years

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So you're looking for a system other than D&D...

Have you tried solo RPGs? Because it's not just "how can I play D&D alone" there's a whole world of cool stuff out there….And I want to tell you about it.

(I'm quite sick today so please forgive any incoherence or typos.)

First off, it's totally fine if you're more of a party person over a solo person. I just know a lot of people aren't aware of solo games, how they work, or the breadth of diversity you find among them.

If you ask about solo games, the first one mentioned is almost always Ironsworn. It's freeeee and comes with a lot of resources. The PDF is over 200 pages, so I understand if you don't want to dive in with Ironsworn quite yet.

Ironsworn has a large community, including support for Foundry and Roll20, along with many derivative works. It offers a gritty default fantasy setting, but encourages you to ignore that if you prefer another world… maybe one from another RPG you enjoy the lore from…?

BUT maybe you want something that isn't as much of a commitment (and maybe a little sad)?

Many Wretched and Alone games use a tumbling block tower to simulate a random ticking clock. It might represent your failing mental health, the barricade crumbling, the ship sinking…

One of the creators of the system has a great thread highlighting their favorite games. Just search Wretched an Alone on Itch.io to find even more.

And if you don't want to go buy a Jenga tower, there are some great random simulators out there. I've been able to play W&A games on road trips, using a deck simulator, a dice simulator, and a tumbling tower simulator. Here's tower replacement I like. It replicates the odds of a tumbling tower falling without being too complicated.

Carta is another cool system where you use a standard deck of playing cards to create a map that you explore. As you explore, you usually have to manage resourses to avoid something bad, but not always.

Here's a collection of several games made using Carta.

Dead Belt takes this concept and RUNS with it. You have a few things to track as you explore abandoned randomized ship decks, searching for a good payload. Upgrade your gear and do it again.

Does the thought of managing your character sound exciting? Do you enjoy soulslike games, like Elden Ring and Bloodborne?

Rune is a fresh release with a lot of third-party support already. It's pretty easy to pick up and play too.

Apothecaria and Apawthecaria have you making potions for the local village. Go out exploring, collect ingredients, and see if you can solve the greater mysteries of the land.

Interested in horror, but want a more narrative-driven experience? In Dwelling, you'll spend the night sleepless and alone in a haunted house. This is a very neat game.

Songs of the City is a delightful tarot game that you play once a day for a week. It's another narrative-driven game where you draw cards and cast magic to see small neat changes in the city you reside in.

Anamnesis, Anamnesis, Anamnesis. I talk about this game a lot because it's magical in its simplicity. There's nothing to track and it's an incredible way to generate character ideas or tell a story.

And now there are more Anamnesis games coming out (including mine) You don't need the original games to play any of the games you see here.

There are so many more games I want to talk about, but alas, this cold is making me stop there.

If you've written a solo game, streamed one, reviewed one, or have one you really like, I invite you to share it!

#solo rpg #solo journaling game #solo tabletop roleplaying games #writing #writing community #ttrpg #I hate being sick #dnd

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asoulwithadream · 1 year

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TEASER REVIEW BECAUSE I'M DEAD

it's him. he's back. HE'S BACK. BESTIES HE'S BACK. i'm sick. his letter has caused my entire brain to shut down. "I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU. I LOVE BEING NEAR YOU. BREATHING THE SAME AIR" bestie how did you find ao3 in 1717? AND THEY GAVE US ALL THAT IN THE FUCKING TEASER TOO?????? dude he looks so fucking heartbroken– YEARNING RAAAAAAAH

THIS FUCKING SCENE— he CUSTOMISED THE TOPPERS TO LOOK LIKE THEM I'M CRYING SOBBING ROLLING ON THE FLOOR. omg omg omg omg they love eachother so much PLEASE. and poor sweet ed jesus he has been CRYING AND HE LOOKS SO EMPTY IM SICK IM DYING IM DEAD. i'm sick, i need the icu help. does this mean he's good at painting.

GOTH UNIFORMS. THEY'RE REAL. im so incredible sick frenchie has cat claws. HE HAS CAT CLAWS IM DYING. and JIM HAS A PAINTED BEARD and SHAVED SIDES. i'm actually going to burst into tears. my heart is going to stop at any moment. even FANG HAS A COOL NEW UNIFORM

i don't think i'm alive anymore at this point. THE PARALLEL. THE PARALLEL. and 9 guns he literally turned into the kraken. HE TURNED INTO THE VERY THING HE HATED HELP ME PLEASE (also did anyone notice the scene where he rose out of the ocean was very similar to potc??????? help??????) stede please stop looking lovingly out in the distance my heart has gotten enough beatings

competent stede in red. FABULOUS IM GOING TO CRYYY 2. izzy hands it's izzy isreal it's you PLEASE this is so reminisence of all the ao3 fics— izzy's finally realised what ed has become and needs to go find stede and bring ed back PLEASE HELP I'm GOING TO CRY IZZY AND STEDE BEING FRIENDS NO NO NO NO NO HELP HELP HELP HELP this is his road to self discovery and acceptance and love i'm feral

that's the same place mofos THAT'S THE SAME PLACE. THEY'RE CLOSE. omg they're going to end up FIGHTING EACHOTHER AREN'T THEY AREN'T THEY OR IS IT THE FIRST TIME THEY SEA EACHOTHER . (also, COMPETENT STEDE?????) HELP ME THEY'RE SO FIGHTING. OMG what if they're running TOWARDS EACHOTHER OKFLAIKHFL please this is insane i will cry david jenkins you have forsaken us all.

minnie what are you doing to stede. HE DOESn'T WANT IT. He'S UNCOMFORTABLE IN SUCH A STATE. LITERALLY THE NAME OF ONE OF THE EPISODES ANNE LEAVE HIM ALONE, (and do it to me) (please i'm desperate)

these two barbies are having the times of their lives.

im convinced that "susan" (whoever ruibo quan is playing) is a mermaid. buttons is being taught the way of the sea by her since she is part fish. she is setting him up with the ocean so they can make sweet love, instead of yearning like captain blondie and emo over there

WHO'S FALLEN IN A RIVER IN LEGO CITY. IT MUST BE SOMEONE ON BLACKBEARD'S SHIP MATES IS IT ED????? ED HAS FALLEN OFF A SHIP IN LEGO CITY. HELP ME WHAT IS GOING ON HERE. I NEED TO KNOW I NEED TO KNOW I NEED TO KNOW OMG THE REVENGE ISN'T SINKING ISN'T SHE??? PLEASE DON'T DO THAT TO ME

THIS IM SORRY BUT WEE JOHN IS LOOKING ABSOLUTELY FABULOUS, ROACH HAVING THE TIME OF HIS LIFE, AND IS THAT PETE THAT MUST BE PETE IT'S PETE ISN'T IT IT'S BLACK PETE. we don't have enough content with pete. YOU KNOW WHY? or else it would have to include LUCIUS. HAH. got you there david

well. that concludes my current rant. other parts of the trailer have been excluded bc they deserve their own posts OR others have phrased it better than me LMAO (yeah because what i wrote is peak shakespeare)

october 5th can't come fast enough help me

**UPDATE: FULL THEORY BASED ON THIS

#ofmd #our flag means death #rant #ofmd teaser rant #ofmd s2 #ofmd 2 #stede bonnet #ed teach #david jenkins #taika waititi #rhys darby #they're back they're really actually back #october 5th

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nc-vb · 1 year

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𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐚, 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐰𝐚, & 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐮𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐬

a long time coming that I've meant to compile a list, but it just kept growing and growing and growing...

the webtoon list includes my very personal & important in-my-heart recommendations. aaaaand the rest are mostly smutty, kinky, and even a little dark.......... do not perceive, just enjoy. and support the official author's work and translations if you can!!

if there are any in this list you'd like a heads up about before reading, feel free to drop me an ask and I'll give you my honest opinion/review.

if you're having trouble locating anything, shoot me an ask (because i have most, if not all, of the links saved).

and feel free to gush to me if you liked any of them!! i'm always happy to talk about mmm's.

[updated july 3rd, 2023] - newly added titles are in green.

𝐵𝐿 = boy's love genre 𝐆𝐋 = girl's love genre 𝟏+ = includes harems & poly relationships ❤ = absolute masterpieces, highly recommended! ! = proceed with extreme caution/heed all warnings

please heed all warnings and tags found within each of these recommendations, as well as my own warnings from the symbol legend above and found throughout this post.

some of these are sfw and some aren't. some of these aren't for the faint of heart and will be marked to be read at your own risk. additionally, not all are translated into English. 𝐵𝐿/𝐆𝐋 are separate from the general list.

𝐖𝐄𝐁𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐍

A Messy Fairy Tale 𝟏+

A Summer Night's Dream

Age Matters ❤

Back to You

Bailin and Li Yun BL❤

Bitten Contract

Boyfriend of the Dead

Castle Swimmer BL

City of Blank

Dating With a Tail

Daytime Star

Devil Number 4 ❤

Devilish Romance

Down to Earth

Dreaming Freedom

Ghost Wife

Ghostly Buddie

Half-Ghost

Harem of LuuAnh

Hello Baby ❤

I'm the Grim Reaper

I Love Yoo ❤

It's Mine

Jeff's Disorders

Kind of Confidential

Little Rain

Lore Olympus ❤

Love Advice from the Great Duke of Hell ❤

Mage & Demon Queen GL

Marry Me!

Maybe Meant to Be

Meow Man

Midnight Poppy Land

Midnight Rain

Mom, I'm Sorry

Morgana and Oz

Muse on Fame

My Beloved Emperor

My Dear Cold-Blooded King

My Four Husbands 𝟏+

My In-Laws are Obsessed with Me ❤

My Lovely Bodyguard

Nice to Meet You

Not Even Bones

Operation: True Love ❤

Pastel-colored Pages

Phase

Scorching Romance

See You in My 19th Life ❤

Selina ~ Moon Bride ~

Siren's Lament ❤

Soleil

Space Boy

Strange and Wild

SubZero

Swimming Lessons for a Mermaid ❤

Take Off BL

The Devil is a Handsome Man

The First Night With the Duke ❤

The Guy Upstairs

The Newlywed Diary of a Witch and a Dragon ❤

The RUNWAY

There Must Be Happy Endings

To the Stars and Back BL

Trapped ❤

Unlovable Replacement

When Jasy Whistles ❤❤

Winter Woods

Your Smile is a Trap ❤

𝐒𝐅𝐖

Abe-kun's Got Me Now! (Abe-kun ni Nerawaretemasu)

A Master, Who Woke Up As a Concubine ❤

And Yet, You Are So Sweet (Na no ni, Chigira-kun amasugiru)

Beloved in-Laws (poor transl.)

Bon Appétit ❤

Don't Blush, Sekime

Forget My Husband, I'll Go Make Money (Aug 2023)

Golden Forest !

I, My, Me, Mine ❤ (アイマイミーマイン)

I Became the Male Lead's Adopted Daughter

I Can't Keep Up With My Stallion Duke ❤❤

I Will Change the Genre

I Will Rewrite the Dead End Novel

In the Clear Moonlit Dusk ❤ (Uruwashi no Yoi no Tsuki)

It's My Destiny to Be the Hero's Saviour !

Kubo Won't Let Me Be Invisible

Love's in Sight!

Loving Yamada at Lv 999 ❤❤❤

Male Lead, I'll Respect Your Taste !

Ookami no Musume ❤❤

Pink and Habanero ❤ (Pink to Habanero)

Protected by My Dragon Knight (Seijo wa Ryuukishi-sama ni Mamorarete)

Scary Faced High Schooler and Miss Plain Jane

Second Life of a Trash Princess

Sinking too deep in your rabbit hole, now I'm drowning in your love

Stella Next to Me ❤ (Tonari no Stella)

The Cunning Princess and the Shark ❤

The Fragrant Flower Blooms With Dignity ❤ (Kaoru Hana wa Rin to Saku)

The Muscle Girl Next Door

The Obsessive Second Male Lead Has Gone Wild

The Reasons We Fall in Love ❤ (Watashi-tachi ga koisuru riyuu)

The Tyrant's Comfort Doll !

To the Dear F-Phantom of the Opera (Shinai naru F e: Opera-za no Kaijin)

Toilet-Bound Hanako-kun ❤ (Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun)

Vampire Lord's Greatest Wife ❤

Welcome to the Yandere Cafe (rating subject to change)

Yojouhan no Ibara Hime

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐅𝐖

あざと可愛い✕くんの執着サド交尾は本物です x!!!

無能力巫女は狛犬の淫紋快楽漬け x❤!

2LDK IKEMEN Tsuki Bukken Arimasu !!

A Dream Between the Sheets ❤❤

A Gentle Sea Monster and a Lonely Girl !

A Predator in a Skirt !

A Sip of Poison !

Boy's Abyss (subject to change, new read) !!

Childhood Friend's Secret Massage !

Consort to the Fox Spirit Lord

Dark Fall !

Depths of Malice !

Devoured by a Bookworm Girl !

Fire in His Fingertips ❤

Former Delinquent Farmer's Sex Appeal is Dangerous!

From Him to Who? ~Sex With My Body-Snatched Husband ❤

Gokudou to Omega - Mukidashi no Katsuai

Hana's Demons of Lust !

Hare-kon 𝟏+

Heat 200 Meters Away (200 M Saki no Netsu)

Honey, I'm Going On a Strike!

How to Make a Frigid Girl Cum

I'm in Love With Mr. Hanabusa

Lady K and the Sick Man ❤❤

Last Order wa Ojou-san de Dekiai Jouren Kyaku ni Kyuuai saretemasu

Junai - Pure Wet Love

Kuma to Tora ~Taikakusa Osananajimi no Hajimete kara, Kemono ni Naru 2-kakan made~ x

Madoka Exorcist ❤!

Mede Little Roy !

Mr. Tada is a Top Performer

Muttsuri Akazukin-kun kara wa nige rarenai

My Cold Co-worker Obsessively Loves Me

Pet Baby Doll

Pygmalion's Savior is a Big But Immature Love Monster !❤

Red Hot Proposal: Surrounded by His Tanned Body

Sadistic Beauty !!!!

Sakaki the Lazybones Shows His Talents at Night ❤❤

Sapphire Dew ~ Infatuated Gentlemanly Boyfriend Seizes the Initiative !

Seishun no Hekireki

Seriously can't pass this up. - Kohai's passionate sex won't stop until morning

Sinful Nun Pays Penitence to the Serpent ❤❤

Spring Amidst My Wintertide ❤

Superstitious Nine ❤

Sweet Lies Layered Like a Mille Feuille ❤

Tadano Renai Nanka de Kikkonai ❤❤

The Golden Forest !

The Goldfish’s Corpse Lies at the Bottom of the Swamp !!!!!!!!

The Greengrocer is a Carnivore in Bed!?

The Man Who Saved Me in My Isekai Trip Was a Killer!!!!!!!

The Neighbor in Room 203 Disappeared Leaving a Key Behind !!!!!!!

The Reincarnated Saint Falls for the Demon Lord

The Tainted Half !

The Virgin Witch

The Weird Senior in the Seat Next to Me ❤❤❤! (Tonari Senpai)

Toshishita Osananajimi ga Watashi o Shibatte Hanasa nai! x

Totem's Realm

Touching is Better Than Looking

Under the Oak Tree

Until the Obedient Bodyguard Exposes the Body and the Lie of the Fake Lady ❤

"Wanna Cum?" The Pure Taiga Advances Slow and Sweet ❤❤

Welcome to the Muscle Salon ❤❤❤

When Beauty Meets Beasts

When You Are Reincarnated As The villain NPC's Girl And Be Loved By The Strongest Prince Who Is Not A Capture Target !!

Wild Eyes

Will You Pledge Your Love to an Incubus?

Wish Upon a Husband

Yaba Ai Instructor !

You're Too Cute for Me to Be Gentle

𝐁𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐒

4 Week Lovers BL

A Handless Day BL!

A Hot Wet Job for Three -Adult Toy Tester- BL, 𝟏+

A Kiss for You, My Shinobi BL

A Tree Without Roots BL❤!

Angel Buddy BL❤❤

Bidou Wakadanna Koi Shitau Wa Koushoku Otoko BL❤

Bitten by Moonlight BL

Black Mirror BL!!!

Blind Play BL!!

Can't Think Straight BL

Cherry Blossoms After Winter BL

Confession Night BL

Dangerous Convenience Store BL

Dawn of the Dragon BL

Dear Door BL

DEATH or LOVE BL

Delinquent Omega Belongs to the Beast King BL

Demon of Lustful Hell BL

Desharow Merman BL❤

Die If You Aren't a Virgin BL

Eat Me Up, My Husband BL!

Ennead

Eunsoo's Good Day BL

Eye Contact BL

Fake Fact Lips BL

Frenemies: Thicker Than Blood BL❤

Friends, Engaged

Fucking in the Dorms BL!

Ghost Gate BL!!!!!

Healing Paradox BL❤

He's a Better Top Than Me?! BL

Home Far Away BL❤!!!

Horeta Otoko wa Shin'yuu de BL!

Housekeeper's Love Affair BL

How to convince your best friend to sleep with you BL

Hyperventilation BL❤❤❤

I Didn't Ask You to Eat Me!

I Love You, Nothing Else Matters BL❤

In an Empty Classroom BL

Indigo BL

I Ship My Rival x Me BL

It's Just a Dream... Right? BL❤❤❤

Jinx BL!

Kabukicho Bad Trip BL

Kiss de Egaku Ittousei BL❤

Kiss Me, Liar BL!

Lala no Kekkon BL!

Liveta BL

Love in Kitsch BL

Love is an Illusion BL!

Love Jinx BL❤

Low Tide in Twilight BL!!

Mad Dog BL❤❤

Miscreants and Mayhem BL

Missing Love BL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (<I cannot express this enough.)

My Delicious Dream Boy BL❤

My Demon Crybaby, Maria BL

My Partner Suddenly Got Younger - An Omega Caretaker Plays Alpha BL!

Natsu no Teppen ni Saku BL

Old-Fashioned Cupcake BL❤❤ (has a j-drama)

Pain, Sweet Pain BL

Passion BL

Payback BL❤❤❤

Pearl Boy BL❤!!!!!!

Pink Heart Jam BL❤❤

Please, Candy! BL!

Roses and Champagne BL!

Sadistic Beauty: Side Story BL!!!!!!

Secret Inside My Head BL❤❤❤

Semantic Error BL (has a j-drama)

Sensei wa Nekketsu ga Areba Juubunda! BL!

Sick BL

Sign BL❤❤❤

Sketch BL❤

Speak of the Devil BL

Steel Under Silk BL❤

Surge Looking for You BL❤

Sweet Trap BL

Tabetemo Oishiku Arimasen BL

Tentacle Recipe BL(?)❤

The Blessed Life of a Retired Nian Monster BL

The Crybaby's at the Mean Devil's Mercy BL❤

The Foxy Mouse's Romance BL

The Origin of Species BL!

The Pizza Delivery Man and the Gold Palace BL

The Pure-Hearted Puppy and the Erotic Tattoo BL❤

The Silent Concubine BL!

The Unquenchable Mr. Kim BL❤

The Words in Your Snare BL❤❤❤

To Take An Enemy's Heart BL!

Tomodachi Engagement BL

Trick Turned Into a Threesome With the Tachibana Brother BL

Under the Greenlight BL

Unexpectedly Naughty Fukami BL❤

Unromantic Romance BL❤

Young Lover BL!!

Your Wish is My Command BL❤

Yours to Claim BL

Zenryaku, Onii-chan wa Seijo ni Narimashita BL!

more recommendations will likely be added as time goes on! feel free to copy these recs for your own checklist of 'to reads'.

hope you enjoy them like i did! :)

#manga recommendation #manhwa recommendation #manhua recommendation #bl manga #bl manhwa #bl manhua #manga recs #manhwa recs #manhua recs #PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS FOR THE EXCLAMATION TAGGED RECS OKAY??? I'M NOT JOKING ABOUT THEM.#i've read some pretty awful things over the past few years... like really awful.#... a lot of them did not make this list.#'Missing Love' has that many !!! and is bolded in red for a REASON-- i've never cried so hard for a MC than i did for Lee Geom.#seriously... it's so awful. and i hate that i found it because i need to know that he eventually has something good happen for him.#i don't really want to discuss it but for anyone's curiosities... i mean... feel free to ask me in dms so i can warn you...#✦ nc vb.

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pinkluver93 · 6 months

Text

Words Left Unsaid

A continuation of my KehXReader fic "Is This Jealousy I'm Feeling?" Enjoy!

“Ovenist….you’re attracted to me in some way, aren’t you?”

Ovenist….Ovenist….

“Ovenist, you okay?”

You look up and Nasir, the special agent helping you with the case, is looking at you oddly. You nod. “Yeah, I just got lost in thought for a minute….”

You had called him to talk about the new evidence you’d found at Keh’s shop. He had come as soon as he could, since it’s busy at the WPA and it’s like he’s the only one there most of the time. It’s been a week since you investigated Keh, and you’ve reviewed all your notes. Now you two are reviewing the stack of papers you found.

“I think it’s some sort of….manifesto or something.”

Nasir studies it for a few minutes, looking at the pages. He nods with certainty and gives a determined smile. “So this appears to be a mockup for a pizza chain Keh is starting.”

You look at him confused. “A mockup?”

Nasir smiles. “Yes, it seems that he’s planning to expand his pre-existing pizza parlor into a chain…but it’s not called ‘Ambrosia’ now, it’s called….” He looks at the top of the paper. “Keh-lifornia Pizza Kitchen. Hmm, sounds familiar….”

You nod. “Yeah, I suppose. I wonder if that’s why he might’ve stolen the dough. Maybe he’s using the notoriety from getting the dough to start his chain?”

Nasir smiles. “Intriguing perspective, and it could be true, given his past….but I would talk to him and see what he has to say about it, since it could be motivation. Let’s keep our focus on the other suspects as well.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Do you have anything else to show me or tell me?”

You shake your head ‘no’.

“Cool, call me if you want to talk about a suspect or show me a piece of evidence.” With that, Nasir leaves, and you get lost in thought. Not just about the case, but Keh’s words still linger in your head.

How am I supposed to continue investigating Keh if he’s caught on to the fact that I kinda like him? Ever since PizzaPalooza ended, I’ve had these butterflies in my stomach I can’t control, and I SWORE I wouldn’t say anything! Ugh, why did I have to let him know how I felt about Angelica deep down? And how he shouldn’t be with her? What do I-

“Hello? Can I get an All-Dressed Pizza? Can I also get it well done?”

You snap out of your thoughts once again to take your customer’s order and move on with your day as usual.

At close, you print the daily sales receipt from your tablet. It was considerably low; you had only completed one ZaZoom order and had to do 2 refunds.

You document the day’s sales on the Pizza City Portal, where every ovenist had to input sales to show whether they are making enough to stay in business or not. You start to think about some aspects of the case you hadn’t thought of before and you grab your notebook and your special pen. Your notebook sits by you but your pen is not in its usual spot.

What the-where's my special pen??

You move everything around in your reach by your shop counter-receipt paper boxes, your store’s lost and found box (which hasn’t been emptied since you opened and is filled to the brim), and some of your personal belongings...but your pen is nowhere to be found.

Soon enough, you have searched your entire restaurant, from the kitchen to the one-person bathroom, and you have no luck. Your heart sinks as you pack up your things, lock the store and walk to your car. As you open your car door, you hear footsteps behind you, and prepare for the worst...

....but instead of a robber’s voice, it’s a gentle, familiar voice..

“Ovenist?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ovenist?”

You close your car door in shock and the first thing you see is a shadow..albeit a very tall shadow. Next you look at who the shadow belongs to.....

“Dr. Keh? What are you doing here?”

He reaches into his lab coat pocket and takes something out to show you....

Your eyes widen. “Wait, is that-? My pen!”

You mentally cheer, studying the golden fountain pen with a certain name engraved in it. You reach out to grab it, but pull your hand back....

“Hmm...”

Keh looks at you confused. “What’s the matter? You don’t want your pen? You only tore 3 quarters of your miniscule shop down looking for it...”

You do a double-take. “Wait what?”

“Incase you weren’t aware,” Keh starts. “Every business in this city, yours included, is not only under 24/7 constant surveillance, but it is also public record and uploaded to the WPA website nightly.”

You stand there, stunned. “Wow....that’s crazy...”

Keh snorts. “Yes, I’m not really rather fond of being constantly under scrutiny, but that’s the cost of having a business in this city, and...it does have benefits..”

“Yeah...” You absentmindedly say. “Wait, you see benefits of this?”

Keh smiles. “Yes, it was rather fun watching you destroy a good portion of your store only to spend your time to put it back the way it was again. It was better than watching TV, dare I say.”

You cross your arms and frown. “Real funny. That pen was very special to me, okay? The fact that I lost it and the thought that some member of the Deep Dish Gang had stolen it from me really messed with me.”

Keh was still holding the pen and nodded. “I wasn’t laughing at the fact that you lost something valuable and meaningful to you, Ovenist. I was merely laughing at you destroying your store for any reason whatsoever. I cherish my belongings as much as anyone.”

You nod solemnly, taking the pen from his hands. For a moment, your fingers touch his fingertips, which have a strong but silky-soft texture. It felt like a smooth lotion had just been applied to them. You think you saw Keh slightly blush at the contact, which you would’ve never seen if not for the bright street light by your car. “Well thank you for keeping it safe for me. I really appreciate it.”

While he tried to hide his blushing cheeks, he coughed. “Well uh...you’re quite welcome.”

“Do I owe you anything in return?”

Keh raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

You slightly smile. “Well it’s just....whenever you do or want to do something nice for me, you expect something in return, like with the artichokes. So I was just asking....”

Keh looks at you for a minute, then nods. “I see. Well, you dropped it when you quickly left my shop so I knew it was yours. I studied it and knew it was very special to you.”

You look up at him in confusion. “But....why didn’t you come by if you knew it was mine? You waited until now to come....”

Keh put both of his hands in his pant pockets and looked down a bit, then looked at you in the eyes again. “Well, we’re not exactly on good terms, Ovenist, given our history overall. I feared you would think I stole it if I brought it to you. I was originally going to have someone send it to you anonymously....”

“Anonymously? Well why didn’t you go through with it?”

Keh put his hands on hips and studied you. “Because for once, I wanted you to think of me as...well...”

You look him in his eyes. “What?”

“I wanted you to think I was a good guy, okay? I wanted you to...well, think at least somewhat highly of me...”

You blush a bit. “But....why me? Why not the other Ovenists?”

Keh rolls his eyes. “I could care less what Cicero thinks, I REALLY don’t care what Alicante thinks....but you, Ovenist....I don’t know. For some reason, you’re different.”

You start to fiddle your special pen in your fingers and shyly look up at him. “I’m....different?”

“I can’t explain it, but....yes.” Keh says. “For once in my life, I’ve found a puzzle I was never able to solve, and that’s you, Ovenist.”

Now is your turn to snort. “You could’ve fooled me! You’re always so mean to me....”

Keh swallows and nods. “Yes, and....I deeply regret it. I’m sorry. I’ve been trained since I was a youth to be incredibly competitive and ruthless, and.....because of that, I-”

You both hear a group of tourists approaching, walking down the street.

You widen your eyes. “I think we better go our separate ways for now. I’m sure you don’t want anyone spreading rumors, right?”

Keh nods. “Yes, I agree. Though I think the Pizzagram hashtags are already trending....”

You both get in your cars and drive away before the tourists see you both together....

#good pizza great pizza #dr keh #dr. michael keh #dr keh x reader #gpgpfanfiction #what you have together has to be hidden #he's incredibly vulnerable here #he starts to show his kinder side #you're still shorter than him in this lol #gpgp #teewritessmth

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