#so I came up with this... mess of a schedule frankly

[sanji-outfit-tourney]

Well I finally sat down and worked out the schedule for the whole tournament (probably should've done that at the start but oh well). The pictures are under the cut for those interested, you'll see that I continue with the usual "Mon-Thurs with a 3 day break at the end of the week" routine for Round 2, and then Rounds 3 and 4 are going to be one poll everyday with (almost) no breaks, and then there's going to be some break time before the semifinals, and then the finals will be on November 4th. Sorry if it's all kinda confusing, scheduling a tournament turned out to be a lot more complicated than I thought it'd be lmao

[hispg]

Little bunny

Pairings: R4! Leon X Fem! Reader

Summary: You riled him up. It's totally your fault for using this bunny outfit. Now, bear the consequences.

Wc: 2.5k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, mirror sex, soft!Dom Leon, pet names, light dirty talk.

An: Hi Hi, sorry for the recent absence, I haven't replied to any asks or comments. And sorry for the absence, don't get me wrong.I have to sort out some things in my personal life, and frankly my mental state isn't the best. From yesterday to today I had two terrible mental breakdowns.I don't like to talk too much about my personal problems here, but I don't think it's fair to ghost everyone. Anyway, I just wanted to say that my next posts will be scheduled,(I'll see if I have any ready works to post, and hopefully I do), and I'll probably be back around February 5th or so. If I feel better I'll come back sooner, but I need some time to breathe.Don't worry, I'll reply to each and every one of you as soon as I get back! I apologize for the inconvenience, but I promise I'll come back better and respond to every kind interaction I've received!

Sorry for the long rant, but I kind of needed it. Thanks for your attention so far💕

"Look at me, love." Leon purred in your ear, watching you through the mirror.

Your legs spread, his fingers buried in your wet pussy, your cream dripping down his fists and onto the floor, making a mess where you sat.

Your lips hanging open as you moaned, your head resting on his shoulder as you couldn't even open your eyes without rolling them.

It was all so dirty, the mirror bearing witness to the scene that was unfolding. You in a bunny outfit, all dolled up for a party, it wasn't your intention to make Leon horny.

But what did you expect? Sending him a photo of you in that bodysuit, your ass reflected in the mirror and you making a naughty face. Of course Leon would come running to see you. How could he not?

You wanted to get his attention, since he hadn't been able to talk to you all day, so you had the brilliant idea of sending him these provocative photos. And indeed, you got his attention, and at the same moment he left all his chores and came running to see you.

Now you had to deal with him.

"All that for me, love?" Leon purred in your ear, using his thumb to massage your clit.

You hung your head again, letting the hoarse whimpers escape your throat every time he sank his fingers into you, hitting those weak spots that made you soft in his arms.

His mouth found its way to your neck, sucking and licking at the area, his teeth rubbing against your flesh lightly. His little smile only widened when he felt you tighten around his fingers, you were almost there once again.

You felt that familiar feeling forming in the pit of your stomach, your mind getting messy and unfocused, you just had attention at that moment.

Leon also sensed that you were close, watching your expression through the mirror. It was so exciting that he could stare for hours.

Your wet cunt welcoming his fingers so well, so slippery and warm that he could spend all day fingering you, without a break.

"So beautiful, look at you," Leon says, holding your jaw and making you look in the mirror.

Your face flushed, your cheeks as red as an apple, your glassy eyes that begged for his touches. Leon made a point of fucking you while you were still in that bunny costume you were wearing, just to see how hot and beautiful you looked.

"You only did that for a good fuck, didn't you? You wanted to get my attention, didn't you?" Leon whispers sensuously, using his thumb to tug at your clit viciously.

The way he spoke to you was enough to make you roll your eyes, your pussy clenching painfully tight around his fingers, you could bet that this time you wouldn't hold back.

"N-no, that wasn't it…" You moaned, rolling your eyes once more, feeling his fingers touching that weak spot of yours.

You heard Leon's chuckle, and he once again lifted your face, making you stare into the mirror once more.

"Open your eyes, princess. You look so beautiful when you come." Leon said softly, admiring your reactions.

And that was enough to get you there, you just felt your white cream being oozed out of your body, your eyes rolling back as you held onto his forearms tightly.

It was so dirty, the way you whimpered so slyly, his name sliding out of your mouth as you came. Leon kept holding your face, making you see the mess you'd made of yourself.

Through the mirror you could see him staring at you with those blue eyes, the corners of his curved into a naughty smile as he watched your fluids dripping from you.

And there he went, making you come for the thousandth time that night.And when he kept fingering you even after orgasm, you couldn't help yourself and started whimpering even more.

"Leon, stop, it's too much!" You whispered, pouting as you tried to win his pity.

But no, it wouldn't work this time.

"No, I'm sure you can take it." He says, slapping your clit, watching your every reaction.

You whimpered, keeping your pout while he played with your body. By this time Leon's cock was throbbing, aching as it was trapped in his pants, even he could feel his pre-cum soaking through his underwear.

But even though you were struggling to take it one more time, you cried out when he stopped stroking you, when you felt the emptiness he left when he took his fingers out of you.

He had better plans for you now, he wanted to watch a bit at that moment. He then sat down on his knees, leaning back as he saw your legs spread in that dirty way.

"Touch yourself." He demands, his voice low and husky, causing a chill to run down your spine.

You widened your eyes at his demand, biting your lip as you saw him undo his belt, push his pants down and pull it all out at once, his cock jutting out at the same moment.

Pinky tip, flushed, and swollen. The clear and perfect sign of the effect you had on him. Leon wasted no time in wrapping his hand around his dick, grunting as he lazily stroked his length.

You then began to do as he asked, keeping your legs open while you delicately placed your index finger on your clit, making small circles on the sensitive part.

"Keep going." Leon says, biting his lip as he watched you, he began to jerk off with more speed, keeping his gaze on you.

"But… I'd rather it was you." You say, looking at him with sly little eyes.

"If you do what I ask, I can give you what you want all night long." He says, fisting himself as he watches you rub your fingers over your clit.

So wet, soaking wet just thinking about the possibility of him fucking you, even if only with his fingers.

He noticed every detail, your hips rocking as you touched yourself and searched for more friction, right up to the point where you put a finger inside yourself, arching your back and moaning softly.

In one swift movement he moved behind you once more, wrapping one of his arms around your waist while pressing his chest against your back. And in the same instant you felt his size in your folds, his cock rubbing against you, making you both moan at the same time.

He forced you down, making his cock move back and forth in your pussy lips, making you squirm and try to get away from him.

Your movements on your clit stopped, and he growled in protest at your interrupted act. You felt his fingers sinking into your hips, just as he began to fuck you while maintaining total control.

"Keep going." He murmured, in an authoritative yet heated voice.

You obeyed, pressing your finger back into your clit, moaning even louder as you began to feel his balls slapping against you, he moved back and forth, his length grinding against your folds as he held you tight.

And you couldn't contain the moan you let out when you saw the trail of pre-cum running down his cock, making you salivate even more.

At that point you didn't know who was making more of a mess, you or him. Not least because even he couldn't hold back his grunts when he heard the wet, lubricated sounds that filled both your ears, along with your moans and grunts that mixed and became one.

"I'm close—" You moan, biting your lip as you look at Leon.

The image was what you needed to feel your cunt clenching around nothing, your body heating up as you felt your orgasm building more and more.

Leon fucking you from behind, his nails digging into your hips, to the point of leaving marks the next day. His cock emerging and plunging from your folds, your pussy lips becoming swollen from the repetitive movement that was driving you crazy.

You then began to move along with him, your hips moving back and forth, you couldn't hold back the sound that came from your lips every time you felt his balls slap against you. Heavy and full, slamming so hard against you that you could feel your skin heating up and burning with every thrust.

When you started rubbing your clit more fervently, he noticed, and soon grunted in your ear in a bossy voice:

"Pull out." He says, looking down at your fingers that were massaging your sensitive buddy.

Maybe it was just a way of being mean to you, to hold off your orgasm for as many times as he wanted.

"But… I'm so close!" You whimper, looking at him with the sly little eyes you were an expert at making.

"What a shame." He purrs, taking your arms and stopping you from continuing what you were doing.

He then took both your arms, holding them behind you, his hand firmly wrapped around your wrist while the other went back to holding tightly onto your hip.

Leon couldn't help himself and smiled when he saw the mess you'd made of his cock, to the point where there was an absurd amount of the creams oozing out of you.

So dirty, doing all this fussing while he was just teasing you, what a dirty little girl, but that's what you wanted, wasn't it?

"Mh, didn't you want my attention?" He purred once more, holding you tightly as he moved back and forth, rubbing his cock against you once again.

You could feel his warm breath on your neck, his lips lightly touching your skin, and he made a point of giving you little bites, leaving his mark.

"My pretty little bunny, making a mess on my cock." He whispered, in a sensual and provocative way, almost making you feel ashamed of what you were doing.

But it wasn't that, he was proud. Why was that? Because he knew that he was the only one who could leave you like this, and that you were all his, made just for him.

The way he spoke to you made you whimper, humping against him like a bitch in heat, sweat sticking to your forehead as you looked at him through the mirror.

His blue eyes never stopped looking at you, the way you were soaking wet, that bunny outfit that suited you so well. Or whether it was the way your breasts swayed as he grabbed you from behind, grinning shamelessly as he watched you.

And you heard his laugh as you rolled your eyes, letting a sly noise come out of your mouth in a high-pitched way. You were coming.

His hand that had been on your hip went up to your chin, and he made you look at yourself as you came once more.

"Look, bunny, how hot you are. Look at the mess." He says, forcing you to watch your fluids running down his cock, making a new mess.

Just as you saw more pre-cum coming out of him, he was so turned on watching you that he could cum just like that.

White cream dripping off him, making his cock wet and sticky, you did it the way he liked it. The way you were able to do everything the way he wanted, including not holding back while you came, was just one more success on your part.

But now came the part he was most interested in, he was going to fuck you like he loved. Just the sight of the whimpering mess you'd become was exciting, you couldn't speak more than two sentences, you couldn't do anything but moan. It was all down to him.

"You wanted some attention, didn't you?" Leon asked, putting his hand on your back and making you lie on the floor.

Your chest pressed against the cold floor, your nipples hardening even more from the contact. He was still holding your arms, keeping them pinned behind you.

You just stared at him with a pout, moaning as you watched him play with you, lightly smacking your wet pussy, eventually lightly slapping your ass. He just wanted to tease you.

"Please?" You pleaded, arching your hips towards him, only to receive a harder slap.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" Leon purrs, positioning his tip at your entrance, and taking the opportunity to rub his tip against your clit.

He knew he'd have to stop himself from cumming too quickly, because just seeing you in this position was enough for any of his fantasies, it was what he needed to see to go over the edge.

"So be it, I'm going to fuck you exactly the way you want, bunny." He says, a wicked smile on his lips.

And then without you expecting it, he thrust into you all at once, and you felt the delicious stretch he gave you every time. Your pussy stretching to accommodate him with such mastery.

You just moaned, you were incapable of doing anything else, completely drunk on his dick.

You only had time to close your eyes tightly before he started hammering into you, without the slightest pity, just fucking you hard and deep just the way you liked it.

His grip on your hips was strong, and he handled you as if you were a doll that weighed nothing, thrusting into you as he pulled you back onto his cock. Your bodies slammed together abruptly, making that filthy sound echo throughout the room.

Leon was all sweaty, his muscles flexing with every movement, and you could watch him fucking you from behind as you watched the scene in the mirror.

While Leon had the perfect view of his cock sinking into you, your warm walls engulfing him in a unique way, making him grunt at how tight you were, and how hard you could take him. Your juices leaving a white ring at the base of his cock, honeying all over him, acting as if he was the only cock for you.

It was too much for Leon, watching you moaning like that, whimpering desperately as he fucked you. His response was to pick up the pace, his balls slapping against you as his tip reached points so deep you couldn't even imagine.

It was all so fast, you didn't even have time to think as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him hard as you wet his cock even more. Your voice loud and sly, your nails gripping the carpet hard.

And that's what he needed, the last little push, the image of you cumming on his cock in such an obscene way was enough for him to grunt loudly and pump his seed into you, withdrawing his cock and sinking back in with a deep thrust, making sure to finish inside.

For a while, the only sound you could hear was your breathing, shallow and heavy, as you tried to catch your breath.

But then you caught Leon looking at you, the bunny ears that were on your head falling slightly below your face, that bodysuit that drew out your every curve.

He squeezed your hips, looking you up and down. Oh no, he wasn't finished with his bunny.

You wanted attention, and he was going to give it to you all night long.

[shybluebirdninja]

Boundaries of Obsession

Summary: Logan, a seasoned bodyguard with a troubled past, is reluctantly assigned to protect Y/n, a 23-year-old diplomat's daughter. The vast age gap between them creates immediate tension, with Rachel resistant to Logan's intrusive presence. However, as they spend more time together, Logan’s professional detachment gives way to possessiveness and jealousy. His obsession threatens to undermine their relationship, forcing both to confront the boundaries of their growing feelings for each other.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female-Human Reader (Y/N Sinclair) Warning: Angst, lil bit of fluff

Logan had been on the edge of a goddamn meltdown, and he’d been desperately hoping for a break from the never-ending grind of his job. He was sprawled out in his small, dimly lit apartment, surrounded by the detritus of his last assignment: crumpled papers, empty takeout containers, and an assortment of half-empty bottles that might have once contained something drinkable. His apartment looked like a tornado had decided to take a detour through his life.

He was nursing a mug of coffee that had long lost any semblance of warmth, staring at the peeling wallpaper as if it might provide some answers. He was just about to lose himself in the haze of his thoughts when the shrill ring of the office phone cut through the silence like a damn alarm bell. It was a sound that meant trouble, and trouble was the last thing he wanted.

With a groan that could only be described as pure frustration, Logan grabbed the receiver and answered with a voice that could best be described as a growl. “Logan.”

“Hey, Logan,” came the voice on the other end. It was Rick, his boss. The tone was serious—Rick had a knack for sounding like someone was about to get shot whenever he was on the line. “We’ve got a new assignment for you.”

Logan rolled his eyes, though Rick couldn’t see it through the phone. “Seriously? What now? Can’t a guy catch a break? I’m drowning in paperwork and old pizza boxes here. I need some damn time off.”

Rick wasn’t one for beating around the bush. “This isn’t a joke, Logan. We need you to protect Y/N Sinclair. She’s the daughter of a diplomat. She’s 23, and there’s been some pretty credible threats against her.”

Logan let out a snort, one that was more of a sarcastic chuckle than anything else. “Protect a diplomat’s kid? That sounds like a whole barrel of fun. What’s she done, pissed off some world leaders? Because that’s usually the kind of thing that gets you on the hit list.”

Rick’s voice took on a slightly softer tone, which was rare for him. “I get it. It sounds like a cushy gig, but it’s high-profile. We need someone who knows their shit. You’ve got the experience, and frankly, I don’t think anyone else is up for it. And hey, it’s just a few weeks. Think of it as a temporary change of pace.”

Logan sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world was on them. “Fine. I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to be thrilled about it. If I end up babysitting someone with a silver spoon stuck in her mouth, I swear, I’m going to lose it.”

Rick chuckled, though it was the kind of chuckle that suggested he was already preparing for more of Logan’s bullshit. “You always have a way of making these things sound so glamorous. But thanks for taking it on. I’ll send over the details. Just remember, this is important.”

Logan slammed the receiver down, muttering curses under his breath. “Important. Sure. Probably just another way to get me tangled up in someone else’s mess.” He glanced around his apartment, wondering how on earth he was going to get through this. He picked up a stray piece of paper, squinting at it as if it might hold some kind of answer to his current predicament.

His mind was already racing through the logistics of the new assignment: meeting Y/N Sinclair, figuring out her schedule, and trying to figure out how to stay sane while being stuck in the same space as someone who probably didn’t know the first thing about real danger. He was about to face yet another chapter of dealing with people who had no idea what it was like to live in the real world, where every day was a battle and every decision was a gamble.

Logan took a deep breath, staring at the mess that was his life and muttering to himself. “Well, at least I’ll get a change of scenery. Maybe I’ll even get to add a few new scars to the collection.” He chuckled darkly, knowing full well that he was in for a ride he wasn’t exactly thrilled about.

And so, with that resigned acceptance, Logan prepared himself for whatever hell was about to unfold. He might have been grumbling and cursing every step of the way, but deep down, he knew he’d take the job.

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Logan’s arrival at the Sinclair residence was like stepping into a fucking fairy tale. He was greeted by the kind of grandeur that would make a king feel underdressed. The estate sprawled out before him in all its marble and chandelier glory. It was the kind of place where the floors sparkled under the glow of opulent fixtures, and every corner seemed to whisper tales of old money and impeccable taste. Logan took it all in with a mixture of awe and begrudging respect.

He pushed through the massive double doors, which opened with a creak that seemed to say, “Welcome to the land of the rich and ridiculously privileged.” The marble lobby was bathed in a soft, natural light that filtered through high arched windows, casting a warm glow over everything. Logan's boots made a dull thud against the marble as he walked in, a stark contrast to the silent elegance of the place. His own scuffed, worn-out shoes were a far cry from the polished perfection that surrounded him.

Logan glanced around, taking in the elegant furniture and tasteful decorations—each piece meticulously chosen to scream luxury. It was all a bit much, really. His small, dimly lit apartment felt like a lifetime away from this place. He was used to grimy street corners and dingy warehouses, not this plush extravagance. He felt a twinge of discomfort, as if he was an imposter at a very high-society masquerade.

Then he saw her. Y/N Sinclair. She was standing by the grand staircase, waiting for him with an air of cool composure that was both intriguing and slightly infuriating. The way she carried herself with a blend of youthful enthusiasm and restrained annoyance made it clear she wasn’t thrilled to see him. She was striking—no doubt about it. Her beauty was understated yet captivating, and her dark hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, framing her face in a way that made her sharp, green eyes even more arresting. Those eyes were curious but had an edge that suggested she was ready to be unimpressed.

Logan approached her with a professional detachment that was more an act of self-preservation than anything else. His dark suit felt like a costume he wore to fit in with this high-society circus, and it contrasted sharply with Y/N’s more casual attire—a simple blouse and jeans. He knew the suit was his attempt to blend in, but it felt like it was doing the opposite. He couldn’t help but admire the way she looked, though he kept it buried under a layer of gruff professionalism.

Y/N turned to face him as he drew near, her expression a mix of guarded curiosity and subtle skepticism. She extended her hand, and Logan took it, shaking it firmly. “Mr. Logan, I presume?”

“Ms. Sinclair,” Logan replied, his voice low and gravelly. “I’ll be your bodyguard for the duration of this assignment. My job is to ensure your safety.”

Y/N withdrew her hand and crossed her arms, her posture defensive. “I’m not sure why I need a bodyguard. I’m just going about my daily life. Surely that’s manageable.”

Logan couldn’t help but let a hint of sarcasm slip through. “It’s not just about managing; it’s about making sure you don’t get yourself into a world of trouble. There’ve been credible threats against you, and it’s my job to keep you safe. I’ll be tagging along wherever you go, making sure nothing goes south.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a slight frown, and she glanced around the opulent lobby, clearly uncomfortable with the intrusion into her personal space. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to this, won’t I?”

Logan noticed the flicker of frustration in her eyes. He could see she was trying to reconcile the grandeur of her surroundings with the reality of having her freedom curtailed. “We’ll figure out a way to make this as smooth as possible. I know it’s not ideal, but it’s necessary given the circumstances.”

Y/N huffed softly, her frustration palpable. “I’ve always valued my independence. Having someone shadow me every step of the way feels like an invasion of privacy.”

Logan’s expression softened, though he kept his tone steady. “I get that. It’s a hell of an adjustment. My job is to be as unobtrusive as possible while making sure you stay safe. I’ll try not to step on your toes more than necessary.”

Y/N’s gaze softened a little, though her defensiveness was still there. “I appreciate that you’re trying to be considerate. But can you at least explain what you’ll be doing? How is this going to work?”

Logan nodded, thankful for the chance to lay out the plan. “Sure thing. My primary duties will include keeping you company during any public or private events, assessing potential risks, and coordinating with local security. I’ll also be on the lookout for any threats and making sure your day-to-day activities are as safe as possible. I’ll be around, but I’ll try to keep it low-key.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly still skeptical. “And what if I decide to go somewhere or do something without you?”

Logan considered her question, knowing it was a crucial point. “If you decide to go out on your own, I’ll need to check out your destination and who you’ll be with. It’s not about limiting your freedom, but about making sure you’re safe. We’ll work together to plan your activities in a way that keeps you secure while respecting your autonomy.”

Y/N sighed, a sound that was equal parts frustration and resignation. “I suppose that makes sense. I’m just not used to having someone constantly watching over me.”

Logan offered a reassuring smile, though he was aware of the fine line he had to walk. “I understand. It’s going to take some getting used to, but I’m here to make this process as smooth as possible. If you have any concerns or preferences, just let me know.”

Y/N’s eyes met his, and for a moment, the skepticism seemed to wane. She gave a small, begrudging nod. “Alright. I guess we’ll have to make the best of this situation.”

Logan’s smile remained professional, but he felt a flicker of relief. “Thanks for being understanding. I’ll do my best to ensure this is as smooth and secure as possible for you.”

Y/N led him through the residence, her pace steady as she showed him the key areas he needed to know. As they walked through the grand halls, she pointed out various rooms and gave a brief overview of her daily schedule. Logan couldn’t help but notice the opulence of the surroundings—the rich tapestries on the walls, the polished wood of the furniture—all of it spoke of a life he was only beginning to understand.

During the tour, Y/N maintained a polite distance, though there was a formality in her demeanor that made it clear she was still adjusting to the situation. Logan observed her closely, noting the way she moved and spoke. She was a study in contrasts: graceful yet guarded, confident yet clearly struggling with the invasion of her privacy.

As they reached her personal quarters, Y/N stopped and turned to him with a faint smile. “This is where I’ll be spending most of my time. You’ll have access to this area, but please try to avoid intruding on my private space.”

Logan nodded, feeling the weight of her request. “Understood. I’ll be discreet and respectful of your privacy.”

Y/N’s smile widened slightly, though she was still clearly adjusting. “I appreciate that. Let’s start with a schedule for tomorrow. Do you have any preferences for how you’d like to handle things?”

Logan thought for a moment, weighing his response. “I’d suggest we start by reviewing your planned activities for the day. It’ll help me understand your routine and spot any potential risks. We can also discuss any specific concerns you might have.”

Y/N nodded in agreement. “Alright, let’s do that.”

As they moved on to discuss the details of the upcoming days, Logan found himself increasingly intrigued by Y/N. Despite her initial defensiveness, there were moments when her sharp wit and intelligence shone through. She was passionate about her work and had a clear sense of purpose, which was both admirable and, at times, frustratingly idealistic.

In the evening, as their discussions wrapped up, Y/N offered Logan a hesitant smile. “I guess this isn’t going to be as terrible as I initially thought. Thanks for taking the time to explain everything.”

Logan returned the smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment. “I’m glad to hear that. We’ll address any concerns as they come up. It’s important that you feel comfortable and safe.”

Y/N’s smile grew warmer. “Thanks, Mr. Logan. I suppose you’re not so bad after all.”

Logan chuckled softly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As Y/N headed off to her room, Logan remained in the lobby, reflecting on the day’s events. He knew the road ahead would be filled with challenges, both professional and personal. Building rapport with Y/N was just the beginning, and he needed to be prepared for the complexities that would inevitably arise.

He took a deep breath, resolved to tackle the assignment with the same dedication and professionalism he had applied to every previous job. Gaining Y/N’s trust and ensuring her safety would require patience and adaptability. As he prepared for the days ahead, he reminded himself that the success of the assignment hinged not just on protecting Y/N from external threats, but also on navigating the delicate balance of their evolving relationship.

The next morning, Logan met Y/N at breakfast, ready to dive into the day’s activities. As he observed her, he felt a mix of anticipation and apprehension. The assignment had just begun, and he was acutely aware that the dynamics between them would shape their time together. Y/N greeted him with a more relaxed demeanor, and Logan took it as a positive sign.

He knew that the coming days would be crucial in building a rapport and establishing a sense of trust. With each interaction, Logan hoped to not only fulfill his duties but also make Y/N feel as comfortable and secure as possible. Logan’s initial days with the Sinclairs were a whirlwind of adjustments and observations.

Their interactions were a delicate dance of professionalism and personal boundaries. Y/N, though initially resistant, began to show signs of acceptance. The tension from their first meeting gradually eased, replaced by a tentative cooperation. Logan observed her routines and preferences, making adjustments to his approach as needed. He found that Y/N’s defensiveness was often a mask for her underlying vulnerability. She had been thrust into a world of scrutiny and expectation, and his presence was a constant reminder of her lack of control.

Logan’s role went beyond just being a physical presence; it was about understanding the subtleties of Y/N’s world and adapting to them. The Sinclair estate was a world apart from his usual environment, but he approached the challenge with the same focus and determination he applied to his work. He made it a point to blend into the background, allowing Y/N the space she needed while remaining vigilant. Their conversations gradually became less formal, and Y/N began to open up about her life and the pressures she faced. Logan learned about her aspirations, her struggles with her public image, and her desire for a more ordinary life. It was clear that beneath the veneer of wealth and privilege, Y/N was grappling with her own set of challenges.

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Building trust with Y/N Sinclair wasn’t a walk in the park. It was a constant grind, a mix of small wins and the occasional fuck-up. Logan knew that his success in this gig wasn’t just about keeping her safe; it was also about breaking down the walls between them and making her feel at ease. He was working on making their interactions more than just a transactional deal—he was in it to build some real rapport.

One evening, after a day that felt like it never ended—meetings, events, and more meetings—Y/N approached Logan with a thoughtful look on her face. The day’s chaos had left them both a bit drained, but there was something different in the way she spoke to him.

“You know, Mr. Logan,” she started, her tone softer than usual, “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m actually starting to appreciate having you around. It’s been weird, having someone breathing down my neck all the time, but I’m beginning to see that there’s some value in it.”

Logan gave her a genuine smile, feeling a bit of relief. “I’m glad to hear that. I know it’s not exactly the most comfortable situation, and I really appreciate you sticking with it. My goal is to make this as smooth as possible for you.”

Y/N’s face relaxed a bit, and she seemed to be weighing her next words carefully. “I get that. And I can see you’re trying to help. It’s just… sometimes it feels like there’s this invisible wall between us. Like, I’m always having to explain myself or justify my actions.”

Logan took a moment to let that sink in. “I get it. It’s a tough balance—trying to respect your privacy while also making sure you’re safe. If there’s anything specific you need or any way I can make this easier, just let me know.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and there was a flicker of vulnerability in them. “Actually, there is something. I’ve got some personal stuff going on, and it would be nice if you could give me a bit of space to handle it. I don’t want to push you away, but I also need some time to sort things out on my own.”

Logan’s face showed genuine empathy. “I appreciate you being honest with me. I’ll give you the space you need, but remember, I’m here if you need anything or if the situation changes.”

Y/N’s smile was the kind that made it clear she meant it. It wasn’t just a polite gesture; it was real. “Thanks, Mr. Logan. I’m starting to feel like we’re actually getting somewhere.”

Logan’s role as her bodyguard had shifted from just being a protector to becoming someone she could actually talk to—a confidant and a source of stability in her chaotic world. The initial awkwardness and tension had given way to a growing mutual respect. They were finding their groove, and it wasn’t just about being professional anymore. Y/N’s trust in Logan was becoming more evident. Their conversations were less formal, and she seemed more comfortable opening up about her life and her struggles. Logan had noticed that Y/N’s walls were coming down, bit by bit. She was starting to let him in, and that was a significant shift from their early interactions.

Logan was adapting well to the changes. He found himself more attuned to Y/N’s needs and concerns. The balance between professional duty and personal connection was delicate, but he was managing it. It wasn’t just about being her bodyguard anymore; it was about being someone she could rely on, someone who understood the complexities of her life. One evening, after a particularly intense day, they found themselves in a more relaxed setting. Y/N had just finished a call that left her visibly frustrated. Logan, sensing the opportunity, decided to push the boundaries a bit. He leaned against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You know,” he said, his tone more playful than usual, “for someone who’s constantly surrounded by people, you seem to spend a lot of time looking like you need a drink.”

Y/N looked at him, her expression a mix of surprise and amusement. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Logan shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “Just saying, you’ve got that ‘I need a drink and a vacation’ look. And if you’re ever up for some company, I might know a place that serves a mean cocktail.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but trying to keep her composure. “You’re quite the charmer, Mr. Logan.”

Logan laughed, his tone light and easy. “Hey, it’s all part of the job. If I can make you smile or take your mind off things, then I’m doing my job right.”

Y/N’s smile widened, and there was a warmth in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “I guess you’ve got a point. And maybe I do need a break from all this craziness.”

The shift in their interactions was palpable. Logan’s attempts at humor and casual conversation were breaking down the last of the barriers between them. Y/N seemed more relaxed, and there was a newfound ease in their interactions. Logan’s role was no longer confined to the professional realm; he was becoming a friend, someone who understood the weight of her world.

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What had started as a distant and necessary alliance had morphed into something more layered and intense. Neither of them had anticipated the emotional currents that would come to define their relationship. Y/N’s initial irritation with Logan’s constant presence had eased into a grudging acceptance. She had started to see the value in his unyielding vigilance, even if it was a constant reminder of the danger she faced. Their shared moments—whether it was casual chats or the occasional laugh—began to blur the lines between professional duty and personal connection.

Logan, for his part, found himself increasingly drawn into Y/N’s world. The boundaries he had originally maintained started to dissolve. His protective instincts, sharp and well-honed, began to stray into a more personal territory. Though he masked his growing attachment with professionalism, Y/N could sense the change.

The first real crack in their evolving relationship came with Tom, an artist Y/N had met at a charity event. Tom was charismatic and effortlessly charming, a stark contrast to Logan’s usually stoic demeanor. He and Y/N had hit it off, and soon, they were collaborating on a project that was deeply personal to her. One evening, after a lively gathering that left them both a bit drained, Y/N and Logan found themselves alone in her apartment. The living room was softly lit by a lamp, the remnants of their evening—half-empty wine glasses and the faint echo of music—lingering in the air.

“Tom’s been amazing,” Y/N said, her eyes practically glowing with excitement. “We’ve been making incredible progress on the project. He’s so creative—his ideas are just... phenomenal. We’ve been working late into the night, and it’s been really inspiring.”

Logan’s usual composure started to crack. He stood rigid, his voice coming out sharper than intended. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Tom lately,” he said, barely hiding his frustration. “I’ve noticed how close you’ve become.”

Y/N’s excitement faltered, replaced by confusion. “Tom’s just a friend. We’re working on something together. What’s the problem?”

Logan’s irritation bubbled up. “It’s not just about the project. I’ve seen how you interact with him, and I don’t fucking like it. I don’t trust him. I’m here to keep you safe, and I don’t like the idea of you being so close to someone I don’t know well.”

Y/N’s face flared with a mix of hurt and anger. “You’re not my goddamn guardian, Logan. I don’t need you deciding who I can or can’t be friends with. Tom’s been nothing but supportive. Just because you don’t know him doesn’t mean he’s a threat.”

Logan’s frustration turned into outright anger. “It’s not about controlling you. It’s about your fucking safety. I’ve seen too many situations where people who seem harmless end up being anything but. My job is to protect you, and that means being cautious about who you spend time with.”

Y/N stood up abruptly, her movements sharp. “You’re crossing a line here, Logan. I appreciate your protection, but this is my life. I’m not some fragile doll that needs to be guarded every second. I deserve the freedom to make my own choices and trust the people I want to trust.”

Logan’s anger flared, his voice rising. “It’s not about mistrusting you. It’s about making sure you’re fucking safe. I can’t just ignore potential risks, especially when I’m responsible for your well-being.”

Y/N’s voice wavered between anger and hurt. “You don’t get to decide who I can and can’t be close to. I understand you’re doing your job, but you need to respect my autonomy. I’m not asking you to like Tom, but I am asking you to trust me.”

Logan’s face was a mask of internal conflict. “Trust is hard for me, Y/N. I’ve been in situations where trust was fucking shattered, and it makes you wary. But I’m trying to find a balance here. I don’t want to jeopardize our working relationship or make you feel controlled.”

Y/N’s anger slowly melted into sadness. “I need you to understand that I’m not asking for special treatment or to be shielded from the world. I just want to live my life without feeling like I’m under constant surveillance. I need you to trust me, just as much as I’m trying to trust you.”

Logan’s shoulders sagged, the weight of the argument pressing down on him. “I do trust you, Y/N. It’s just that my instincts are hard to turn off. I’m used to being on high alert, especially when it comes to someone I care about.”

Y/N’s expression softened as she absorbed his words. “I get that you care, and I appreciate your dedication. But there has to be a middle ground where I can have my space and make my own decisions without feeling suffocated.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, charged with the unspoken emotions of both. Logan wrestled with his internal conflict, realizing his protective instincts were beginning to cloud his judgment. Y/N struggled with asserting her independence while acknowledging Logan’s genuine concern.

After a long pause, Logan finally spoke, his voice softer and more measured. “I don’t want to be the cause of tension between us. Maybe we can find a way to balance your safety with your need for autonomy. I just need you to understand where I’m coming from.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her eyes reflecting a mix of relief and frustration. “I appreciate that. Let’s work on finding that balance together. I don’t want us to be at odds, but I also need to feel like I have control over my own life.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he took a deep breath. “Agreed. We’ll figure it out. I’ll try to be more mindful of your need for space while still doing my job.”

Y/N offered a tentative smile, signaling her willingness to move forward. “Thank you. I’m sure we can make this work.”

The next few days were tense but marked by small, deliberate efforts from both sides to bridge the gap that had opened up between them. Logan made a conscious effort to respect Y/N’s autonomy, giving her space while maintaining his vigilant presence. Y/N, in turn, tried to understand the depth of Logan’s protective instincts, recognizing that his intentions, though sometimes misguided, were rooted in genuine concern. One evening, as they found themselves in a more relaxed setting—Logan had just returned from a long day and Y/N was unwinding with a book—Logan decided to try to lighten the mood. He plopped down on the couch next to her, a mischievous grin on his face.

“You know,” he said, his tone playful, “if you’re ever tired of working late with Tom, I know a great spot for drinks. Just saying.”

Y/N looked up from her book, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “You’re really laying it on thick, aren’t you?”

Logan chuckled, leaning in a bit closer. “Hey, I’m just trying to make sure you’re not drowning in work. Plus, it’s not every day I get to see you unwind. You deserve a break.”

Y/N’s smile widened, and she shook her head. “You’re incorrigible. But I appreciate the offer. Maybe I’ll take you up on it.”

Logan’s grin widened, feeling a rare sense of triumph. “That’s what I like to hear. And who knows? Maybe I’ll finally get to meet this Tom guy. Make sure he knows who’s really looking out for you.”

Y/N laughed, a genuine sound that made Logan’s heart skip a beat. But just as he was about to make another playful comment, her phone buzzed. She glanced at it and her smile faltered slightly.

“It’s Tom,” she said, showing him the screen. “He’s just checking in about our project.”

Logan’s mood shifted abruptly. He forced himself to mask the pang of jealousy, but his irritation was palpable. “Right. Well, tell Tom I said hi. Or better yet, let’s talk about something else. How’s your day been otherwise?”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the change in Logan’s demeanor. “My day’s been fine. Why?”

Logan’s voice came out sharper than he intended. “Just curious. You seem pretty wrapped up in this project with Tom.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you seriously jealous of Tom? He’s just a friend, Logan. It’s not like we’re going to get married or something.”

Logan’s frustration boiled over. “It’s not about jealousy. It’s about the fact that you’re spending all this time with him and I’m left feeling like a third wheel. It’s my job to keep you safe, and seeing you get so close to someone I don’t know well just pisses me off.”

Y/N stood up, her patience wearing thin. “You’re being ridiculous. Tom’s not a threat. You’re overreacting.”

Logan’s voice rose, unable to keep his anger in check. “It’s not about overreacting. It’s about making sure you’re fucking safe. I’m here to do a job, and I can’t just ignore potential risks, even if it means coming off as a jealous asshole.”

Y/N’s face turned red with frustration. “You need to get over yourself, Logan. I’m not a child. I deserve to make my own decisions without feeling like I’m being controlled.”

Logan’s anger started to crack as he saw the hurt in Y/N’s eyes. His voice softened, a mixture of regret and vulnerability. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off like that. It’s just... sometimes it’s hard to switch off the part of me that’s always on high alert.”

Y/N’s anger ebbed away, replaced by a more measured sadness. “I get that you care, but you need to trust me. I’m asking for a bit of space and the freedom to make my own choices. I’m not asking for special treatment.”

Logan’s expression softened, a mix of guilt and longing in his eyes. “I do trust you, Y/N. It’s just... it’s hard for me to let go sometimes. I’ve been through a lot, and it makes it tough to just let things be. But I’m trying. I really am.”

Y/N’s eyes softened as she looked at him. “I appreciate that. I know you’re trying, but we need to find a balance where we both feel comfortable. I need to feel like I have control over my own life.”

Logan nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “You’re right. We need to find that balance. I don’t want to be the cause of tension between us.”

Y/N’s expression was a mix of relief and resolve. “Good. Let’s work on it together. I don’t want us to be at odds, but I also need to feel respected and trusted.”

Logan took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. “Agreed. I’ll work on being more mindful of your space while still keeping you safe. And, for what it’s worth, I want to be honest with you about something.”

Y/N looked at him, curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

Logan hesitated for a moment, then spoke with a raw honesty. “These past few months, spending time with you—it’s been... I don’t know, something I didn’t expect. I’ve been so used to being alone, and having you around, it’s... changed things for me. I’ve been trying to fight it, but I have feelings for you, Y/N. You’ve become a part of my life in a way I didn’t think was possible.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, a mix of surprise and emotion flickering across her face. “Logan, I... I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

Logan looked down, feeling a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability. “I’m sorry if I’ve been overbearing. I didn’t mean to come off as a controlling asshole. It’s just that you’ve become important to me. I want to protect you, not just because it’s my job, but because... because I care about you.”

Y/N took a deep breath, processing his words. “I appreciate your honesty, Logan. It means a lot. And I want you to know that I care about you too. I just need to find a way where we can both feel comfortable and respected.”

Logan’s face softened, a tentative smile forming. “Yeah, I think we can figure it out. We just need to communicate and understand each other better.” Y/N nodded, a small, genuine smile on her lips. “Agreed. Let’s work on it. Together.

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The weeks wore on, and Logan's feelings for Y/N twisted into a dark, consuming obsession. What had started as a protective instinct soon spiraled into a desperate need to control every aspect of her life. His once-guarded professionalism eroded, replaced by an all-consuming jealousy that tainted every interaction Y/N had with others.

It was clear to everyone around them—if they cared to notice—that Logan’s possessiveness was turning into a problem. He scrutinized Y/N’s every move with a vigilance that bordered on the obsessive. What had initially seemed like simple concern now looked more like an all-out invasion of her personal space. Each friendly interaction Y/N had with other men seemed to send Logan into a fit of barely-contained rage.

The turning point came at a gallery opening where Y/N was showcasing her latest collection. The event was buzzing with art enthusiasts and critics, all eager to discuss Y/N’s work. Logan had been assigned to discreetly monitor the event, but his attempts at maintaining his usual detachment quickly fell apart. He stationed himself on the edge of the crowd, ostensibly to observe, but his gaze was fixated on Y/N.

Y/N, radiant in her element, moved gracefully through the crowd. Her laughter rang out clearly and genuinely as she engaged with admirers. Every compliment, every interaction with other men seemed to deepen Logan’s unease. His jealousy flared at every friendly pat on the back, every animated conversation. The sight of her mingling with others was like a knife to his gut, sparking a storm of irrationality within him.

By the time the gallery event wound down, Logan was a bundle of barely contained frustration. His usually controlled eyes burned with a simmering intensity that he struggled to mask. As Y/N returned to her apartment, Logan’s tension was palpable, his earlier attempt to maintain a façade of professionalism slipping away the moment they were alone.

Y/N, sensing the shift in Logan’s demeanor, eyed him with a mix of curiosity and concern. “You seem off tonight. Everything okay?”

Logan’s voice was taut with irritation. “Oh, you know, just the usual. You were the fucking center of attention tonight. Surrounded by a bunch of guys. It pissed me off.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock and frustration. “Seriously? You’re complaining about me interacting with people at my own event? It’s part of my job, Logan. You’re being unreasonable.”

Logan’s face twisted with conflicted rage. “It’s not just about being unreasonable. Seeing you with those other men... it fucking kills me. I can’t stand it. I know it’s irrational, but I just... I can’t fucking help it.”

Y/N’s frustration boiled over. She crossed her arms and stared him down. “This isn’t about your feelings of insecurity. It’s about control. You can’t dictate every aspect of my professional life. It’s unhealthy.”

Logan’s anger surged, his voice rising. “It’s not about controlling you. I’m just trying to protect you. Every time I see you laughing and talking with other guys, it feels like I’m losing my grip on something important. I don’t even know why it’s hitting me so hard now.”

Y/N’s eyes softened with empathy but her voice remained firm. “You need to separate your personal issues from your professional duties. This obsession is affecting our working relationship and your ability to do your job.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. “I get it. I know I’m crossing lines. I’m supposed to be professional, but these feelings... they’re like a fucking storm I can’t control. I haven’t felt anything like this in years. I’ve always kept my feelings in check, but with you... it’s different. It’s like I’m losing you every time you’re with someone else.”

Y/N’s frustration was tempered with a note of compassion. “Logan, you’re not losing me. But your jealousy and possessiveness are getting out of hand. It’s not fair to me or to you. We need to confront this head-on. If we don’t, it’s only going to get worse.”

Logan’s face was a mix of anger, regret, and confusion. “I don’t know how to handle this. I’ve never been this fucked up before. It’s like I’m trapped between wanting to keep you safe and being overwhelmed by my own feelings. I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice softening but her tone serious. “Logan, we both need to be honest here. Your feelings are clouding your judgment. And it’s affecting our relationship. We need to talk about boundaries and expectations, or this is just going to keep spiraling.”

Logan’s gaze met hers with a mix of vulnerability and resolve. “You’re right. We need to clear the air. I don’t want to be a fucking burden or let my emotions ruin everything we’ve worked for.”

Y/N’s eyes held a mixture of relief and determination. “Let’s tackle this head-on. We need to be clear about our boundaries and communicate openly. It’s important for both of us.”

Logan’s voice wavered slightly as he took a deep breath. “There’s something I’ve never told you before. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Not in a long time. I’ve always kept my emotions in check, especially with my... unique abilities. But with you, it’s different. I fucking care about you, Y/N. More than I ever thought possible. I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N’s expression softened, a mix of surprise and emotion flickering in her eyes. “I didn’t realize... I mean, I’ve felt something too. I’ve been trying to figure it out. I guess... I care about you too, Logan. But we need to get through this mess if we’re going to have anything.”

Logan looked at her with a mixture of hope and apprehension. “I know. I just want to make things right. I want us to be able to work together and be... whatever this is between us. But we need to sort this out first.”

Y/N nodded, her gaze steady and warm. “We can work through this. But it’s going to take effort from both of us. Let’s be honest and clear about what we need from each other.”

The conversation left them both emotionally drained, the weight of their confession hanging heavily between them. But Logan’s struggles with jealousy and obsession didn’t end with that discussion. If anything, his behavior grew increasingly erratic.

One evening, Y/N was preparing for a dinner with a potential new client. Logan was supposed to be on duty, maintaining his usual professional distance, but his simmering jealousy soon erupted. Y/N, unaware of the storm brewing within him, was in the midst of selecting an outfit for the occasion.

Logan’s voice cut through the quiet of the apartment, sharp and tinged with frustration. “So, who’s this fucking client you’re meeting tonight?”

Y/N glanced at him, taken aback by his abrupt tone. “Just a potential client, Logan. Why does it matter?”

Logan’s jaw tightened as he paced the room. “It matters because you’re going out again. And every time you go out, I fucking worry. You don’t see the problem here?”

Y/N’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion and irritation. “You’re seriously doing this again? This is a professional meeting. It’s part of my job. You can’t just flip out every time I leave the house.”

Logan’s frustration was barely contained. “It’s not just about you leaving. It’s about who you’re with, where you’re going. Every fucking time I see you with someone else, I lose my mind. I can’t stand it.”

Y/N’s patience was wearing thin. “Logan, this isn’t healthy. You’re crossing boundaries. I need you to understand that I’m not some possession you can control.”

Logan’s face flushed with anger, his voice rising. “Control? Fuck, Y/N, this isn’t about control. I care about you—more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And it’s tearing me apart to see you with other people. I fucking love you, but this shit is driving me insane!”

Y/N’s eyes widened, a mixture of shock and exasperation. “You can’t just use ‘love’ as an excuse for this behavior. Your obsession is suffocating me. It’s not fair to me or to you. You need to get a fucking grip on yourself.”

Logan’s anger morphed into desperation. “I don’t know how to stop it. I can’t control these feelings. Every time you’re out with someone else, it feels like I’m losing you. I fucking hate it. I know it’s wrong, but it’s like I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Y/N’s expression softened slightly, though her frustration remained. “I get that you’re struggling, but your feelings are hurting both of us. You need to deal with your jealousy instead of letting it control you. This isn’t a healthy way to handle things.”

Logan’s voice broke with frustration and regret. “I know. I know it’s not right. I’m trying to fucking deal with it, but it’s hard. I love you so much, Y/N. More than I ever thought possible. But I can’t stand the thought of you being with someone else. It’s like I’m losing a part of myself.”

Y/N’s frustration was tempered by a note of compassion. “You need to find a way to manage these feelings, Logan. We can’t keep going like this. It’s eating away at us both. I need you to get help or find a way to handle this without letting it ruin everything.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped as he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “I don’t want to lose you. I’ll try—fuck, I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. But I need your help. I need us to work through this together.”

Y/N’s gaze held a mixture of relief and determination. “We can work through this. But it’s going to take effort from both of us. We need to be clear about what we need and establish boundaries. If we don’t, this will just keep spiraling.” Logan nodded, his expression a mix of hope and apprehension. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I just want us to be okay.”

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Logan’s behavior had hit a breaking point. It wasn’t just about his discomfort anymore; it was clear that his obsessive and controlling tendencies were wreaking havoc on both his professional effectiveness and his relationship with Y/N. The last straw came during an intense argument, which forced Logan to face the harsh reality of his situation. Y/N, frustrated and exhausted by his increasingly intrusive behavior, had finally pushed him to seek professional help.

Logan was hesitant. The thought of spilling his deepest insecurities to a stranger was daunting. But he knew something had to change. His first visit to Dr. Lee, the therapist Y/N had recommended, was marked by a palpable sense of dread. The office was a stark contrast to the chaos in Logan’s mind: soft lighting, calming colors, and comfortable seating created an environment that felt foreign to him.

Dr. Lee, a middle-aged woman with a welcoming smile, greeted Logan with a warm tone. “Hi, Logan. It’s good to meet you. Y/N told me a bit about why you’re here. Can you tell me what’s been going on?”

Logan sat down in the plush armchair, shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah, uh, I’m here because I’m really fucking up. I’m working as a bodyguard for this woman, Y/N. And lately, I’ve been way too overprotective. It’s messing up my work and screwing up my relationship with her.”

Dr. Lee nodded, her expression open and encouraging. “It sounds like you’re dealing with some complex emotions. What specifically has been troubling you about your interactions with Y/N?”

Logan’s frustration was evident in his voice. “It’s like I’m obsessing over her safety to the point where it’s consuming me. I can’t stand the idea of her being around other people, especially men. It drives me fucking crazy.”

Dr. Lee leaned forward slightly, her tone gentle yet probing. “It sounds like your feelings of jealousy and control are pretty intense. Have you noticed any specific triggers that make these feelings worse?”

Logan thought for a moment, his hands fidgeting. “Yeah, it’s mainly when I see her interacting with other guys, like at social events or when she’s working with them. I get this surge of anger and possessiveness, and I can’t manage it.”

Dr. Lee responded thoughtfully. “Jealousy and possessiveness often come from underlying insecurities or fears. Can you think of any past experiences that might be influencing how you feel now?”

Logan’s gaze grew distant as he reflected. “I’ve had some shitty relationships in the past. I guess I’ve always been scared of losing something valuable. Y/N means a lot to me, and I think my fear of losing her is driving these intense feelings.”

Dr. Lee nodded in understanding. “Past experiences can definitely shape our current behaviors. One approach we can take is to work on identifying and addressing these underlying insecurities. We’ll also explore strategies to help you manage your emotions and develop healthier relationship patterns.”

As the sessions continued, Dr. Lee used a mix of cognitive-behavioral therapy and mindfulness techniques. Each session began with a review of Logan’s recent experiences and emotions. Dr. Lee would then guide him through exercises designed to challenge and reframe his thought patterns.

During one session, Dr. Lee introduced a mindfulness exercise. “Logan, let’s try a mindfulness exercise to help you become more aware of your emotional triggers. I want you to close your eyes and focus on your breathing. Notice any sensations or thoughts that come up without judging them.”

Logan followed her instructions, his breathing slow and steady. Dr. Lee continued, “When a thought or feeling arises, acknowledge it and let it pass. This exercise helps you observe your emotions without letting them overwhelm you.”

After the exercise, Logan spoke with a sense of calm. “I can see how this might help me manage my reactions. It’s like I’m more aware of how my emotions are affecting me.”

Dr. Lee responded, “Mindfulness can be a powerful tool for recognizing and regulating emotions. Alongside this practice, we’ll work on developing strategies to address the insecurities that fuel your possessiveness.”

Y/N, meanwhile, was struggling to maintain her sense of autonomy. Logan’s intrusive behavior was causing her frustration, and she was working on setting clear boundaries. One evening, after a particularly tough day, she invited Logan to a café they both frequented. She hoped the neutral setting would facilitate a productive conversation.

As they sat down, Y/N looked at Logan, her expression a mix of determination and exhaustion. “Logan, we need to talk. I’m really struggling with your behavior. It’s affecting my work and my personal space.”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I’m fucking up. I’ve been seeing Dr. Lee, trying to deal with this shit. But I know it’s not enough. I need to hear it from you. What do you need from me?”

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice steady but firm. “I need you to respect my boundaries. You can’t control who I interact with or how I handle my work. You need to manage your emotions and stop letting them dictate your behavior.”

Logan’s voice was filled with regret. “I get it. I’m trying to deal with my feelings, but it’s fucking hard. I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. I’m really sorry for how I’ve been acting.”

Y/N’s expression softened, though her frustration remained. “I appreciate that you’re trying, but it’s a two-way street. I need you to take concrete steps to address your behavior. It’s not just about saying sorry—it’s about making real changes.”

Logan nodded, his face a mix of hope and determination. “I’m committed to making changes. I want us to be okay. I’ll keep working with Dr. Lee and do whatever it takes to fix this.”

Y/N’s eyes held a note of resolve. “That’s a start. But we need to set clear boundaries and communicate openly. If we don’t, this situation will just keep spiraling.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped as he took a deep breath. “I understand. I’ll work on it. I just want to get things back on track. I care about you, and I don’t want my shit to ruin everything.” Y/N nodded, her gaze steady. “We can work through this. But it’s going to take effort from both of us. We need to be clear about what we need and stick to it.”

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As weeks went by, Logan’s commitment to managing his possessiveness began to show real results. The therapy sessions with Dr. Lee were making a noticeable difference. Logan was learning to handle his intense emotions better and to communicate more effectively with Y/N. The transformation wasn’t overnight, but it was significant enough for Y/N to notice the positive changes.

One evening, after a particularly successful week where Logan had navigated social events and professional responsibilities with newfound composure, they decided to celebrate with a quiet dinner at their favorite spot. The restaurant was cozy, with soft lighting and mellow music that set a relaxing mood.

Logan and Y/N settled into their booth, the ambience a stark contrast to the tension that once marked their interactions. Logan, usually so guarded, was now more relaxed, though there was still a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. As they enjoyed their meal, Logan took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice carrying a mix of sincerity and vulnerability, “I’ve been thinking a lot about us. I know I’ve been a total mess sometimes, but I’ve never been more sure about anything than how I feel about you. I’ve been working hard to get things right, and I want you to know that you mean the world to me.”

Y/N looked up from her plate, a playful glint in her eyes. “Oh? And what exactly does that mean, Mr. Brooding Bodyguard?”

Logan’s cheeks turned a shade of pink, but he grinned. “It means that despite all the chaos, I’m ready to make it official. I want you to be my girlfriend. I promise I’ll try to be less of a mess and more of the guy who makes you laugh.”

Y/N’s laughter rang out, light and genuine. “Well, I was starting to think you’d make me wait forever. I’ve actually been hoping you’d say something like this.”

Logan’s face lit up with relief and joy. “So, you’re saying yes?”

Y/N leaned in, her eyes sparkling with affection. “Yes, Logan. I’m saying yes. But just so you know, I’m holding you to that promise about being less of a mess.”

Logan’s grin widened. “Deal. I’ll work on being the guy who makes you laugh and maybe the guy who gets to kiss you goodnight.”

Their conversation continued, filled with playful banter and flirtatious exchanges. Logan’s progress was evident not just in his words but in his actions. He had become more attuned to Y/N’s needs, more respectful of her boundaries, and more capable of managing his emotions. The following week was a whirlwind of events, each one showcasing Logan’s growth. At a networking event, he managed to maintain his composure even when Y/N had to work closely with a male colleague. Instead of the old pangs of jealousy, Logan was calm and supportive, offering encouragement rather than control.

Logan’s friends, who had witnessed his previous struggles, noticed the change. One evening, while hanging out with them, he was animated and relaxed, something they hadn’t seen in a long time. His friends joked about how they’d never seen him so chill before, and Logan laughed along, his newfound ease evident.

“Man, who are you and what have you done with the old Logan?” one of his friends teased.

Logan chuckled, a genuine smile on his face. “The old Logan’s still around, but he’s been getting some therapy and figuring his shit out. Things are looking up.”

Meanwhile, Y/N had started to see the positive impact of Logan’s efforts on her own sense of well-being. They spent more quality time together, enjoying each other’s company without the constant tension. Y/N felt more secure and appreciated, which only strengthened their bond.

One evening, after another successful week of navigating their evolving relationship, Y/N and Logan found themselves at their favorite café. Logan’s demeanor was relaxed and happy, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at how far they had come.

“Logan, I’ve got to admit, I’m really proud of you,” Y/N said, her voice filled with warmth. “You’ve come a long way, and it’s making a huge difference.”

Logan grinned, reaching across the table to hold her hand. “Thanks, babe. I couldn’t have done it without you. Your support means everything.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her eyes reflecting a mixture of affection and admiration. “Well, I’m glad to be here for you. And I’m excited about where we’re headed.” Logan’s gaze softened, his expression serious but filled with hope. “I am too. I want us to keep moving forward together. I’ve been thinking a lot about us and where we’re headed. I know I’m not perfect, but I want to be with you. I want us to build something real.”

[espace--positif]

Mise en place

A Zayne x F!Reader Birthday Fic

Summary: You've planned every part of Zayne's homemade birthday dinner, all the way down to the last detail... but what happens when things start to go wrong?

WC: 2.1K

Content tags: Fluff, Humor, Mild Suggestiveness

All it took was for one tiny thing to go wrong. Then everything began to unravel.

You’d misread the recipe for blanching green beans and subjected them to a fifteen-minute boil, which had rendered them a mushy mess. So you’d tossed them and restarted a new batch, but that meant you were now late on the frosting. And if the frosting was late, then you’d either have to accept that the steak would be late too, or attempt to sear it while simultaneously manning a hand mixer, which was tragically impossible with the amount of hands you had.

Why the hell did you need to blanch green beans anyway? What was the point? As you scurried from one end of the kitchen to the other, house slippers sliding dangerously on the light dusting of flour on your floor, you chastised yourself for choosing the wrong moment to learn how to cook dishes that were, frankly, beyond your measure.

You’d always been a decent enough cook to get by, but you absolutely had to outdo yourself this time. It was Zayne’s birthday, after all. You had to make it more than just good enough. No, you had to make it perfect for him.

Of course, he had no clue you were planning all of this. If he knew, he surely would have denied you the pleasure of throwing him an intimate surprise birthday party; ever since you’d pulled that stint with the help of Dr. Greyson and Yvonne two birthdays ago, he’d become privy to your schemes every year. So instead, you’d cleared your schedule and invited him over to your apartment under the guise of needing help with something. You remained vague, worried that he’d see through any lie you tried to craft. He always did; he knew you too well. Zayne had agreed to come over after his shift, curiosity palpable through his voice on the phone.

You peered at the oven clock and briefly checked on the sizzling steak within. It was looking juicy and almost ready, so at least something was going well. Then you got to work pouring copious amounts of crushed garlic into your compound butter mixture. There was no such thing as too much garlic, so at least you wouldn’t mess that up. You let out a forceful sigh in an attempt to recenter yourself. There was no need to panic, you still had fifteen minutes of error margin, so as long as you could get everything back on track, it would all be ready at the same time as you’d so meticulously planned. You haphazardly tossed the compound butter mixture into the fridge to cool, then returned your attention to the would-be frosting, currently a pile of sugar sitting in the mixing bowl.

A knock at the door froze you in your tracks. No, it couldn’t be. He was entirely too early.

You ran to the door with urgency, desperately hoping it was your neighbor, or a delivery, anything but this. Your heart sank when you saw Zayne staring right back at you through the peephole. You opened the door, coating it with the leftover butter on your hand, and put on your best “this is fine” smile as you greeted him.

“Hi! You’re thirty minutes early!” you couldn’t help but add.

“Your request sounded urgent on the phone,” Zayne replied as he walked in, “and I didn’t have much work left to do, so I came straight here.”

His hazel eyes intently scanned you up and down as soon as he walked in, and you wondered if you’d already been made. Zayne had always been too observant for his own good. And yours.

“You look beautiful,” he finally said, voice soft and low. Your cheeks turned red. Amidst the culinary chaos, you’d almost forgotten that you’d had the good idea of putting on your dress, and getting your hair and makeup ready early in the afternoon so that you wouldn’t need to worry about it later.

“Thank you,” you replied softly, a warm smile lighting up your features, before your very important mission – completion of the birthday dinner – returned to the forefront of your mind.

After giving you another brief once-over, Zayne began discarding his shoes and briefcase at the entrance of your abode. You took advantage of the moment to scurry back to the kitchen, endeavoring to cover up your sins. Mixing bowls, measuring cups, seasonings and containers lay astray on your counters; your meticulous organizational system had clearly evaporated along with the failed green bean water.

“You can wait for me in the living room,” you called out absently as you shoved unneeded pots and pans into the dishwasher. “Or anywhere but here. Please don’t come here,” you added under your breath.

But of course, that’s exactly what he did. The hiss of steam that escaped from the pot housing the green beans masked his footsteps, so it wasn’t until after you’d hastily taken them off the stove and whipped around that you saw him. He threw his hands up as if to say ‘careful’, and you realized you were brandishing near-boiling bean water at him.

“Is this what you needed help with?” he asked while gesturing towards the mess that was your kitchen.

You turned around, trying to mask the look of mortification on your face.

“Nope,” you replied as you tossed the green beans into the ice bath you’d luckily prepared beforehand, though it was more of a cold water bath by this point. “You know me, I’m just cooking. For fun. I like to cook.”

You winced; so much for sounding inconspicuous.

You could hear the skepticism in Zayne’s voice as he asked, “What are you making? This looks like… a lot.”

You turned to face him after the green beans were secured. There was no point in lying about the dish you were preparing; he could clearly see all your ingredients laid out, and you’d put a lot of effort into choosing something you knew he would enjoy very much, so you were actually proud of your selection. Hopefully, the execution would end up as perfect as you’d envisioned.

“Reverse-seared steak with compound butter and green beans.”

Zayne looked genuinely impressed, brows rising in a fascinated expression. You beamed – your mission was partially accomplished as he clearly hadn’t seen this coming – but your moment of triumph was brief as the realization that you’d forgotten something very important crashed down on you.

The steak!

Your timer had either not gone off, or you’d forgotten to set it, or the universe desperately wanted you to fail today. Your culinary adventure turned into a rescue mission in an instant, and your crisis response took over. After all, a true hunter would never leave a perfectly good steak to burn in her oven, let alone a birthday steak.

Zayne watched in pure horror as you tossed the bean-water pot into the skin with a loud crash, ripped two flimsy paper towels from the rack, yanked the oven door open, and grasped the edges of the scorching hot sheet pan that held the steak, hoisting it to safety on the one empty area on the countertop with pinpoint precision.

You didn’t register the nerves in your hands crying out until after you’d made sure the steak had been successfully rescued and was safe. In an instant, Zayne was by your side. He grasped your hands in his and practically dragged you to the sink, running cold water onto them.

You sheepishly looked up at him, your faces only inches apart as he stood right behind you, and he looked back with a look that screamed ‘why would you do that?’. It was 70% worry, 10% shock, and 20% disappointment, if you had to estimate.

“Why would you do that?” he asked with genuine concern, brows sternly knitted together.

“It’s wagyu…” you offered, but your poor excuse was instantly shut down by his intense glare.

Wrong answer. You turned your attention back to the stream of water in slight shame.

Zayne sighed, his breath brushing the back of your neck. Then he shut the water off, gently turned you around so you faced him, and began to inspect your hands thoroughly. Warmth enveloped your hands as he held them, and it was a welcoming feeling given how they’d just been subjected to the two extremes of scorching heat and ice-cold running water.

The focused look on his face as he completed his meticulous inspection reminded you why you were doing this in the first place. The man simply didn’t have an off button. Even less so on the one day when he should enjoy himself, and your shenanigans were partly to blame for that.

“Good. It doesn’t look like you were burned. But why on earth–”

“Because,” you replied too fast. “The steak was gonna end up well-done. And everyone knows well-done is a euphemism for burnt.”

“If you called me here to help you cook, just say so,” Zayne said, genuine confusion lacing his voice. You were known to sometimes be cryptic and less than forthcoming with your requests, but this wouldn’t have been the first time he’d helped you devise a new dish or figure out a complex recipe. “Here, I’ll help you finish the dish up so we can tidy this mess and go sit down.”

“No, you can’t help,” you protested, eyes fixated on a particularly prominent patch of flour on the kitchen tile.

“Why?” His tone was soft and inquisitive as he interlaced his fingers with yours, and that was all it took for you to fold and confess your master plan.

“Because it’s your birthday dinner,” you mumbled.

Zayne froze, and you looked up at him when he didn’t respond. You could practically see the gears turning in that beautiful head of his.

“Don’t tell me you forgot…?” you said, tilting your head.

“I suppose I might have forgotten,” Zayne replied earnestly. “I’ve been busy, and… it’s two days from now, not today, and besides–”

“You don’t like big celebrations, I know. That’s why I wanted to do this. It’s not a celebration per se, it’s more like… me treating you to a really nice dinner that happens to be followed by cake as dessert.”

Zayne’s pensive expression softened into a warm smile. His hazel eyes remained fixed on yours, betraying nothing of the way he’d almost melted at the thought of you caring so much.

He detached his fingers from yours and pulled you by the waist so you were flush against each other.

“As delicious as that sounds, you should know I don’t need a fancy dinner on my birthday,” he said softly as his hand gently traced circles in the small of your back. “Simply spending my time with you, being close to you like this… That’s enough for me, ok?”

“I know, I know,” you pouted, resting your head on his chest. “But I’m still gonna finish this, because, well, it’s our dinner. And I think it’s gonna be really good, even if it’s not a surprise anymore.”

“Hmm,” he hummed. “I don’t doubt it. After all, you went fancy with it, didn’t you?”

“It’s not my fault a certain someone only eats at Michelin-starred restaurants. I had to outdo myself to meet your impossible standards,” you teased with a grin. “The recipe actually called for carrots, but a certain someone is also a picky eater, so…”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You remembered that?”

“Of course I did.”

Now that the urgency of the situation had dissipated and you settled into his comfortable warmth, you started to notice the little things. The woody scent of his cologne tickling your nose. The comfort of his hands on your back. The way you fit perfectly into his arms. The dim dining lights and candles you’d set earlier reflecting dancing shimmers in his eyes. The way his lips parted slightly before meeting yours, as your palms wandered up his chest and past his neck, settling on the back of his head, gently tousling his hair. You felt him relax under your touch, pulling you even closer, and though it wasn’t your birthday, you found yourself making a wish. As you breathed in all of each other, you wished to stay here forever.

But alas, your mission remained unfinished.

“Mm,” you hummed, gently attempting to pull away. “I still have to… finish cooking. The cake frosting isn’t even started.”

You could barely get the words out as Zayne relentlessly locked lips with yours until you were both out of breath. When he finally pulled away, you were met with a warm, content grin. “Then I guess you’ll have to let me help you so we can get on with this wonderful dinner,” he said, voice low and husky. “And don’t worry about the cake. I’ve got a different idea for dessert.”

Note: Hello! I wanted to write something nice and short for our dear Zayne’s birthday, so I hope you enjoy this fluffy story (to cheer us up from the Dawnbreaker lore too). Thank you for reading, and I hope everyone is having fun with the birthday event <3

Thank you to @pmpmyread for proofreading!

[woozisguitar]

GLITCH - a good plan

prev | 3.0 | next

masterlist

Recommended Song: Everything Has Changed by Taylor Swift

Warnings: some hate tweets, mentions of anxiety, overthinking and panic attacks.

A/N: this part has both smau + written (2.6k words, no beta)

Your flight landed 20 minutes before schedule. After a few long hours of constant turbulence and the crying of babies, you were more than happy to disembark. But a sudden realisation of where you were and wanted was going to happen once you got off this flight made your anxiety rise again. Since the article about the dating rumor came out, it was almost like your usual anxiety had increased tenfold, making you want to run back and hide every time you left your house. Ella tapped you on the shoulder to signal that the gates were opening. You decided to swallow your nerves for the sake of the group. 

“Let’s go before it starts to rush,"  Iseul called out from her seat in the next row with Ash, who was packing her things. 

The security checks and baggage claim took ages, but finally, you were able to leave the airport and take in a much-needed breath of fresh air. There, at Arrivals, you saw a man who looked like he would be in his late 30s, holding a placard with your name on it. You nudged Iseul and nodded towards the man to signal that he might be the guide? SEVENTEEN’s management mentioned. 

“Hi, I’m y/n,"  you said, bowing slightly. “Oh hello! Nice to meet you. I am Ahn Ha-Joon, but feel free to call me Mr.  Ahn," he said with a kind smile. “I hope you all had a great flight. I have a car waiting for us right outside. Please follow me.”

You all followed Mr. Ahn out of the airport, where the cool evening air greeted us. Ash and Ella looked around in excitement, but Iseul had a mix of nostalgia and fear on her face. Knowing her past, you gave her a small squeeze on the shoulder, and she glanced over in appreciation. 

“Mr. Ahn, can we stop somewhere to eat?” Ella asked once we were all seated in the car. 

“Well, it's pretty late right now, so most restaurants would be closed, but we can stop at a 24-hour convenience store. My apologies, but there isn't any food at your accommodations right now.” 

You heard Ash whisper-yell a small yay under her breath before she decided to go back to watching videos on her phone. After that, you decided to zone out on your drive there, imagining and overthinking every possible scenario. 

Sleep didn't come easily to you the whole night, while others slept soundly after the long flight. Ever since you became a fan, Woozi has held a special place in your heart. Be it through his words, his songs, or his smile. You would wait days, often checking your phone like a depraved girlfriend and scrambling to open every notification in case Woozi posted something new. As sad and pathetic as it sounds, this is your normal. You worked on codes, you spent time with your friends, and you fangirled. Everyone knew this. And frankly, your life felt full to some extent. You never had time for anything or anyone else. Every single person you met was compared to Woozi in every aspect, and you knew how fucked up it was. He is an idol, for heaven's sake! No normal person would be this obsessed with someone they don't even know in person, but this was you. You've always found it easy to love from a distance, never knowing that love can be so self-consuming and overwhelming that you might lose a part of yourself in the process. But it was almost like you were addicted. You cried when they cried, and you laughed when they laughed. You felt proud when they achieved something and disappointed when they lost. Iseul once mentioned how this feels like a curse. To love someone so ardently and vehemently even after knowing that you never ever, not even in a million lifetimes, had a chance with this person. And perhaps she was right, because look at the mess you are in right now. You never wanted this. For you, Jihoon was a silly fantasy. Like a prince who would come sweep you off your feet, riding a white horse into the sunset. But this, this was real life. There are no princes and princesses, and there are no white horses. Just the same old you, who is a student, and your idol, Woozi. These agonizing thoughts consumed your mind until you somehow drifted off to sleep. 

The next day, you woke up to Iseul and Mr. Ahn talking by the door. She nodded in agreement at something he said. 

“Get up, girls; we leave in an hour.”

“TIME TO MEET JUNNIE LET’S GO!!!!,” Ash yelled and leaped from her bed to go take a shower. 

“Well, at least someone’s happy about this,"  Ella chuckled slightly, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. 

Well, I guess here goes nothing…

The ride to the headquarters was silent. Everyone knew that this could potentially end badly. While the management assured me that they wouldn’t, they were still very powerful and strong and could change their minds in an instant. You could be sued and blacklisted, and honestly, none of you had that kind of money. 

“We’re here. We will be taking the backdoor because it's safer than the general entrance.”

The elevator ride to SEVENTEEN’s headquarters took forever. If this were under any other conditions, you would probably be elated to meet the people you have looked up to for so long. But right now, all you could do was try and calm your nerves so that you wouldn't go into a panic attack in front of your idols. Well, at least Ella and Ash seemed excited as they were talking in hushed whispers, whereas Iseul seemed deep in thought. The elevator dinged, signaling that we had reached it, and Mr. Ahn led us through the various doors till we reached the one beyond which stood our fate, waiting to meet us. 

The first thing you noticed was how familiar this room felt. Having seen various videos of the group doing challenges in this same space, it felt surreal to stand in the same space. 

Then you heard Ash quietly squeal and cover it up with a cough, and Iseul took charge and introduced herself. 

Last, you saw him. 

Standing here casually as ever, with his black hair slightly longer than before, was Jihoon. He was wearing an all-black outfit, but it seemed like he made an effort to clean up a bit, as you noticed a slight contrast from his usual behind-the-scenes outfit. He had a bored expression on his face, but his eyes had a glint of curiosity as he kept scanning the group till they landed on you. And you, flustered as ever, averted your gaze and slightly bowed your head in greeting. 

“It's very lovely to meet you. Thank you all for all the support you have given us.” You heard a deep voice on your side to see Scoups greet your group. 

“Well, we'll get to introductions later! Ms. Lee is waiting for us in the meeting room.” Mr. Ahn interrupted and led us all towards another door at the back of the room. 

You tried to keep a low profile, almost shrinking into yourself. A very small, tiny part of you was excited to finally meet them, but a huge part was scared as to what would happen next. 

As you all settled in the meeting room, a lady in her late 20s entered and introduced herself as Ms. Lee. She claimed to be their publicist, handling all major events for all members, from scandals to photoshoots to everything. 

“I know this isn't the most ideal situation for either party, and frankly, none of us thought it would blow so out of proportion. I mean, almost every other fan pretends to date their idol. It's one of the foundation concepts in this industry, as much as we hate to accept that.”

The members nodded in agreement and understanding and wanted the ground to swallow you whole. All those stupif things you said on Twitter at 4 a.m. when you were overworked and tired are being referenced, and oh my god, I think I'm going to die. 

“Anyways, the main reason we called you here today, Ms. Y/N, was to discuss how we should handle this. As this ‘plan’ could possibly affect the whole group as well as your friends, it makes it more feasible to discuss it with all of you. So, my team has been working out numbers, and a rumor tweet hasn't generated this much interaction for SEVENTEEN in a while. And we think it might be a good idea to play into it.” 

Everyone around us leaned forward in curiosity as to how we would ‘play into it.’

“Ms. Y/N, we want you to date Mr. Woozi.”

Pin-fucking-drop silence. You were pretty sure everyone even stopped breathing for a second. 

“Umm, and how exactly was this a good idea?” asked Mingyu from his end, the first one among us to react in any way. 

“Well, they don't have to actually date but rather fake date. We spin a story about how they met and fell in love. And while we don't confirm or deny anything officially, we can hint at certain things. And for the next comeback, Mr. Woozi can write a love song as the title track, referring to Ms. Y/N. They keep up this ruse for a few days, and then they'll ‘break up’. And the only way to confirm this? The theme of the comeback after that would be heartbreak. That or Mr. Woozi can drop a solo whatever he wants. With this, everyone would be immersed in this love story between a fan and an idol, especially those who belong in an industry where parasocial relationships are one of the main pillars. Given the rise in Mr. Woozi's popularity lately, it makes more sense to fabricate a scandal involving him. Plus, it's human nature to want something you can't have.”

“And what does Y/N get out of this? I’m pretty sure you’ve seen all the hate comments and speculations on Y/N life treding all over Twitter. And if she agrees to this, she will be thrown deeper into this hate circle, so she should at least get something in return. The group gets their comeback theme, Woozi gets the popularity, and so what will Y/N get? And I hope you know that Woozi would get just as much hate as Y/N, so what are your plans on handling that?” Iseul spoke up from beside you with the same fire in her eyes she had when she knew she had finally cornered her opposition in the courtroom. 

The table fell into a murmured discussion, contemplating the pros and cons of this. Ms. Lee looked as if she had expected this. “Well, we plan on signing a six-month contract with Ms. Y/N at first, after which, depending on the reaction to the initial part of the plan, we might add another six months. And as for what Y/N gets? We compensate her for all the defamation, libel, and slander she faces. The amount can be discussed when we finalize the contract and get a lawyer for Ms. Y/N. As for the hate Mr. Woozi might receive, well, there's not much we can do unless we know what kind of hate we will receive.”

“I am Y/N’s lawyer; you can tell me the specifics.” Iseul spoke up again, surprising a few in the room. 

“And I’m sorry to interrupt, but you should really work on protecting your artists more. That being said, you also need to protect Y/N. By all means. Get her security, a car, and everything,” Ash spoke up, surprising you, as this was the most serious she had ever been since we commenced this trip. 

“Fine, fine, we will provide Ms. Y/N with all the security she needs. Any other questions?” Ms. Lee said, exasperated.

You saw Hoshi giving Ash a small thumbs up, and she nodded in return. 

"Yes, actually,” you said for the first time ever since this proportion was revealed, “I’m guessing I would have to move here temporarily in case I was to agree.” You continued as Ms. Lee nodded, “Well, that could be an issue because I can’t leave lab work or my graduation will be delayed. And all my equipment, my supervisor, and everything else are back home. Moving midway is a very bad idea.”

Ms. Lee seemed to think over this for a moment. “Well, that does sound like a problem. We can set up a lab for you to work in here at one of the universities we have good relations with and get you a local supervisor. We can also talk to your supervisor back home and get them on board with the idea. We will have to work out the specifics of this. Anything else? I am assuming your friends will stay with you, so we can work out something for their jobs as well.”

“I can tell my firm to put all cases on hold and make Y/N my primary client.”

“Well, I’m part of a dance crew, but it’s about time I took a break. And I suppose you can hook me up with some groups around here as well.”

The three of you looked at Ms. Lee expectantly. She sighed and nodded. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. And you, Ms. Ash?”

“Hmm, I don't know if I can take a break for that long from the clinic. I guess I could say I’m taking a sabbatical or something. But you are going to refer me if anyone asks for a vet,” Ash said, crossing her fingers and placing her chin on it, looking innocently at Ms. Lee. She groaned and said, “Fine, fine, fine. Are Ms. Y/N you in or not?”

You looked over at Woozi, who was quiet this whole time. He seemed to be contemplating what he wanted, and you had an epiphany that Ms. Lee never once asked him if he agreed to this. He simply had to do whatever the company asked him to do. Your choice would affect not just you but him as well. And when your eyes met his, you saw doubt and fear swirling in them, similar to yours this morning. You decided you had to talk to him about this first before you made any choice. “Can I get some time to think about this? Maybe a day,” you said, slightly nodding at Woozi, hoping he’d understand what you meant. 

“Very well then,” Ms. Lee clapped. “You can let Mr. Ahn know whatever your decision is, and we can get started on the paperwork right away. Thank you all for today.” 

“Not going to lie, but that was the most frustrated we have ever seen Ms. Lee,” Vernon said once she left the room. 

“And compromising. She doesn't even listen or negotiate with me,” Jeonghan pointed out, surprised. 

The members and your friends decided it was best to spend some time together before they had to go for their practice. Amidst the chaos of introductions and questions, you decided it was the best time to corner Woozi and ask him if he was okay with this. You saw him standing at the back of the room, texting someone, as you approached him. 

“We need to talk.”

taglist: @toplinehyunjin @neo-moa @khhminimalist @theidontknowmehn @moose-1555 @kittyhui @ra1n7b33 @hamji-hae @miriamxsworld @khaos-sodivine @intoanothermind @ins4nebish

A/N: hope y'all liked this! this one took forever to finish and tbh I never planned on writing almost 2k words but oh well 😭 excited to hear your thoughts on this and reblogs are always appreciated! oh also! during y/n's inner monologue she keeps going back on forth between woozi and jihoon. that is so symbolise how she sometimes sees him as an idol and other times as this guy she likes. its super conflicting for her.

[poetrysmackdown]

some informal thoughts

hello! hope the holiday season has been kind to all of you. and i hope all my jewish followers had a lovely hanukkah! anyways, since i said a few months ago that i’d pick poetry smackdown back up sometime around this time of year, i thought i should make a post. the gist of it is that i’m still quite busy, i have a break that’s about three weeks shorter than I was planning on, and i don’t currently have the mental bandwidth required to read, contemplate, and sort through poem submissions in a way that does justice to them, even if i were to recruit some friends to help out. since running a tournament format requires at least five weeks of continued engagement once it’s underway, and since i’m not at capacity to offer that right now due to the change in my schedule, i’m gonna have to bow out for now. sad bc i was looking forward to it!

my hope is that i’ll have some more time over the summer to hunker down with it, in which case you’ll be hearing from me. it’ll frankly depend on the kind of job i land in for the summer, but i find that my unemployed spirit can typically keep me doing stupid shit regardless of workload...to a point. i don’t want to make any promises because i don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up just to let them down again LOL. i do admit the amount of exposure the first tournament got has made me feel like more of a perfectionist this time around, doubly because i don’t feel that i’m very suited to being a public online presence (even a relatively quite small one)—i’m bad enough at responding to emails for my own real life responsibilities, let alone tumblr asks for the silly responsibilities i invent for myself lol. that’s not to say i no longer want to do it, or i don’t enjoy it, or even that i don’t feel capable of making a really interesting bracket—just that if i am working to put something new together, and if people are taking the time to submit poems they care about, then i don’t want to half-ass it.

my second admission is something like this. I made the original bracket as a celebration of poetry and our relationships to it. yes it was silly and competitive, and the poems were very tumblr, but still, celebration was the intention—I wanted to have conversations about poetry. I stand by the bracket format as a fun and valuable way to foster conversations about poetry, but truthfully, the poems i’m wanting to have conversations about right now—the poems that we should be talking about right now—are ones that i'm not comfortable putting in a bracket. I reblogged The Baffler’s Poems from Palestine collection on here earlier, and Najwan Darwish’s “Who Remembers The Armenians?”, which I still often find repeating through my head when I'm traveling from one place to another, walking home or riding the bus. I came across this beautiful thread recently where people have been translating Dr. Refaat Alareer’s “If I Must Die” into their own languages (this just makes my translator's heart sing!!!!!!). @havingapoemwithyou has been posting some great poems from and for Palestine as well—check out their tag here.

There's always more to add, and I'll be posting more on here as I come across it, but that's what I feel anyone should be focusing on right now when it comes to poetry. i think poetry can be an escape but it should never be a distraction. does that make sense? i wouldn't be against doing a one-off poll here or there, but it feels weird to be making a tournament for poetry right now, or anytime soon. i feel like what free time i have right now is still best utilized helping my friends with organizing in the real world. and god, a bit off-topic but while I'm talking, fuck poetry foundation—I have so much respect for all the poets keeping up the boycott, because while i think it's a simple decision, it's not always an easy one (Aurielle Lucier discussed that here).

anyways, if you read all of this, thank you for your time!! I could go on and on, but really this was just meant to be a message telling y'all that there won't be another tournament for a while lol. even so i'll be trying to use this small silly platform as best i can until palestine is free because that's the absolute least i can do.

[icallhimjoey]

Hand in marriage right now- THAT WAS AMAZING! Honestly I loved it so much, making me go giggle and kicking my feet ugh 😭, do you think there will be a possibility that there will be a part 2?

Love your works so much <3

ok so i obviously left a lot of room there for more, SO FINE here's another part (and if you want more, you're gonna have to let me know because i think i might be able to pull 5 parts out of this if i tried really hard) enjoy! (also pls know that i still feel weird writing wesley) (i have only ever seen pics of him) (thats all) (rewritten 19 nov 2023) Wordcount: 2.2K

Inevitable Sparks

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Oh, how the tables had turned.

Where before Wesley was always made to shut up about you, now it was Wesley who had to tell Joe that not everything he'd tell him involved or surrounded you.

"I'm actually not feeling great, I think the sushi I had last night was–" "Did you go for sushi with her?" Joe interrupted. "No..." Wesley narrowed his eyes at Joe. "I went with my dad." "Oh... yea, of course. Do you happen to know– like, does she like sushi?"

Wesley rolled his eyes at his friend who apparently, when it came to you, operated like he was in primary school still.

From a very specific angle, it was cute.

From all the other ways to look at it, it was mostly annoying and frankly a little pathetic, Wesley thought.

You and Joe had only met the one time at your flat, and you'd talked for a little while before you'd mingled with your other friends and had left Joe to join Wesley on the balcony from where he could just stare at you through the window.

You had seen Joe stare. You'd definitely noticed. But you'd also done your very best to pretend you hadn't been aware of it at all.

And Wesley had, to his dismay, seen all of it from up close and concluded that you were both terrible at this.

"I don't know, man. Ask her yourself." Wesley said, hoping to not become the middle man for the two of you, but entirely aware that, he probably already was.

"I would, if you gave me her number..." Joe tried, eyebrows high up on his face, giving his friend questioning eyes.

Wesley laughed, sat up and tried to imitate his friend's face as best he could. "Can you pass her this note to see if she like likes me?"

It was a dig at Joe, but it made him laugh heartily anyway.

"She's taking me to an exhibition tomorrow," Wesley then revealed. "You could book yourself a ticket and tag along, if you want," he shrugged, knowing you wouldn't mind it.

You'd more than not mind it, actually. Wesley was getting this bullshit from both sides.

"No, come on," Joe waved a hand at Wesley, frowning. "I wouldn't want to intrud– what time you guys heading over?" Joe cut in on himself as he'd whipped his phone out to check his schedule, making Wesley shake his head at him.

Joe was an idiot.

Meeting Wesley outside Kensington High Street station, he had let you know he was bringing a surprise, and you'd expected maybe a crunchie bar, or a hot cup of coffee.

You choked on your own spit when you saw him emerge from the station with Joe by his side.

"Joe loves the Design Museum," Wesley said when in your earshot, obviously sarcastic, but all three of you were smiling.

You were all entirely too aware of the situation at hand, but none of you called a spade a spade and just let the truth float in the air in between you.

"Yea? You into ASMR, Joe?" you asked, challenging him slightly.

Joe blinked his eyes and searched for the right words, the noises coming from his mouth a stumbling mess of various vowels.

Obviously, he had no idea what he was in for.

"We'll see, won't we?" Joe eventually replied, and you saw Wesley behind him with a furrowed brow and one corner of his mouth pulled out, shaking his head, and it made you giggle.

And Wesley had been right.

Joe hated every second of the Weird Sensation Feels Good exhibition; an immersive experience where you got to both experience and create ASMR-type visuals and audios.

You lived for this kind of stuff, and had paid for Wesley's ticket after being unable to talk him into tagging along without you getting it for him.

When you'd entered, you'd distanced yourself a little from the boys and wandered from padded space to padded space, soaking up information, learning about how brains worked, what triggers there were and eventually, you sat down at a table that held microphones, headphones and an array of brushes to use.

When you sat down and placed the clunky headphones over your ears, you saw Wesley and Joe wander in.

Wesley immediately gravitated towards an installation of hanging bags holding different substances to squish and grab, all of them meant to be satisfying.

Joe, on the other hand, saw the chair opposite you was empty, and made his way over to sit down.

"Hi," you said softly, smiling, unaware of the volume of your voice since you weren't able to hear yourself.

Joe just smiled and reached for the other pair of headphones to put on.

In front of you were two microphones, and you used a finger to tap at one. You heard nothing, but saw Joe flinch at the sound and it made you chuckle softly.

As playful payback, Joe did the same to the other, tapping it harder than you did, making you laugh louder as the noise of it consumed everything.

You were the first to take a brush, and you swiped it over your own microphone first before moving it to brush at his. Joe ducked his head into his shoulders at the sound and frowned deeply; his whole body cringed and he was quick to push your hand away from his mic.

"Is that meant to relax me?" Joe's angered confusion made you laugh.

You gave it another try, enjoying how strongly Joe reacted to it.

"That's infuriating," he concluded, but took hold of a brush himself, giving it another try at his own microphone, looking at it with disgust painting his features.

"Hate that. Hate it, hate it."

Joe had to take the headphones off.

You were well aware you were in a museum that was meant to solely relax people, but there were giggles stuck in your throat that you couldn't keep in. A blush creeping up your neck towards the apples of your cheeks that you couldn't stop.

Then Joe moved to your microphone, and you were immediately triggered.

Triggered the nice way.

The noise of the soft bristles against the mic sent tingles from your scalp, all the way down your spine, and for some reason, they ended at the backs of your thighs.

Fuck.

That was nice.

Too nice.

It was relaxing, but it was awkward, because this was Joe's doing and he was looking at you, intrigued at the effect it had.

"Is that working?" you could see the smile tugging at his cheeks, and you gave an embarrassed nod.

"Is it actually?" Joe's open-mouthed smile grew.

It was far too intimate a moment for the two of you to be having, Joe holding power over bodily responses you had like that in a public setting with Wesley in the room?

Not okay.

You looked over at Wesley who was then stood at a different headphone station and found him practically drooling as he was listening to something with his eyes closed.

"I think Wesley's too into this," you said as you removed your headphones and pointed, making Joe turn in his seat and suppress a laugh.

"That's... that's not right. Entirely inappropriate. Wesley, mate! Get a room, just for yourself,"

You noticed how every single thing Joe said made you blush and giggle, and you silently scolded yourself for it.

Get yourself together, woman.

You weren't 12 and not everything Joe said was funny.

Be an adult.

A grown up.

Behave.

You were lucky, because Joe hadn't even noticed in the slightest that your ears were glowing.

Oh, he'd noticed the giggles, but he had also been out to get them from you, so it didn't feel overdone.

He also didn't have time to think about what you were thinking, because every time he got close enough to talk to you, his mind ran at a million miles per hour to figure out how to work your phone number into the conversation.

What subtle comment or question could fall from his lips that would have you reach over for his phone to put your number in?

Add to that the fact that this museum held a lot of headphone-wearing and not a lot of room chitchat.

So instead, he settled for enjoying the view of you, for now.

A little while later, you had outstretched yourself on a grey fuzzy art piece that was meant to look like the inside of a brain next to Wesley, both in headphones, looking at a screen.

You were relaxed.

This exhibition was definitely living up to the name of it; it was all weird sensations, and it all felt good.

From across the room, Joe looked at the two of you, and he stared long enough for Wesley to eventually feel his friend's eyes on him.

Wesley furrowed his brow at Joe when they made eye contact, and a silent nonverbal conversation ensued.

He gave his chin a tiny nod upwards, asking Joe what he wanted from him. Joe copied his friend's frown, and nodded his head to the side, meaning for Wesley to move away from you. To make space for Joe.

Wesley looked at you for a second, and you seemed completely enthralled by what you were experiencing.

He decided that Joe wasn't allowed to disturb you.

You hadn't taken Wesley to this exhibition just so Joe could flirt with you, and in that moment, he felt protective over you the way he'd feel protective over a younger sister.

Wesley looked back at Joe and gave his head a tiny shake. It made Joe drop his head and groan in defeat.

Maybe you could go for a coffee after.

Or if he was lucky, a pint or two.

Joe could maybe get your phone number then.

Except he didn't, because the more he thought about it, the more he let his nerves grow until they formed a giant mountain Joe couldn't compete against.

Even when two people got up in a packed tube and you and Joe were quick to snag the seats, Joe still didn't muster up enough courage to casually ask for it.

And so when you had to part ways because you had to change for another line to make your way home, it was a quick simple 'see you later' for Joe, and the quickest of quick hugs for Wesley before you stepped off the train.

Wesley plopped down next to Joe and slapped him hard on the knee.

"Great job mate, glad you got her number," Wesley joked as Joe looked out the window behind him, giving you a small wave as the tube took off and he got a last glimpse of you walking down the platform.

"Just– could you please just give it to me?" Joe pleaded as he turned back to his friend, making Wesley laugh loudly.

"Absolutely not. I've introduced the two of you to each other. I've done my part."

However, what Wesley hadn't anticipated, is that you also needed Wesley's help.

The second you had service on your phone, you couldn't help but text him.

"saw you take a pic of us, i need it", quickly followed by, "for scientific purposes obvs".

The second Wesley had service on his phone, he read your message but waited until he was away from Joe to reply.

Wesley had, in fact, snuck a picture of you sat together on the tube. It was slightly blurry, and you'd both been looking up to check the tube map across from you - unnecessarily so, you both knew where you were going and where you needed to get off.

When Wesley sent the pic, you followed it up with, "give me his number", and Wesley let out the loudest most annoyed sigh he could pull from his lungs.

You were both useless.

He took a minute to think it over. He'd been so adamant he wasn't going to give Joe your number that it almost felt wrong to just hand you his. At the same time, he'd had enough of Joe's pestering and didn't need your harassment added into the mix. So, he thought of something to put all three of you out of misery.

You were zooming in on the blurry photo of you and Joe on the tube, thinking what a terrible photographer Wesley was, but how good the two of you looked together, when suddenly you got a notification.

You'd been added to a group chat called "two halfwits make a whole" and, curiously, the image of it was the one you'd just been staring at.

"What the..."

You opened the group chat and were met with an empty chat screen, Wesley's name and an unknown number at the top.

Joe.

Then a message from Wesley popped up.

"Here you go, idiots"

Followed swiftly by the notice, "Wesley left".

-----

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @kiwisa @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @xomunson @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @dirtyeddietini @mybffjoe @harrys-tittie @chaoticgood-munson @harringtonfan4 @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @xeddiesbattattsx @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @thefemininemystiquee @hauntingbastille @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland - add yourself

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Welcome to Your New Unlife

Shadow City AU - Chapter One?

A JSE Fanfic

You all voted on the poll for this, so here you go! I wasn't able to finish this week's PNPT AU chapter, but I've had this sitting in my WIPs for a while. Shadow City is an urban fantasy AU where the septic egos are all various supernatural creatures, hiding right under the noses of the everyday people of the city Scuabyrg. Chase is new to this, having just woken up one morning as a ghost. Jackie, Schneep, and Marvin are all friends, being a werewolf, vampire, and witch respectively. And JJ is new in town, moving in along with a mysterious roommate.

It's important to note that I am NOT READY to start posting this AU regularly. Though I've been working on it on and off for a while, I have not really gotten that far, and I'm not really able to fit it into my schedule. I guess I COULD add it into the rotation so I write five AUs at a time instead of four? But quite frankly, I don't want to do that XD There's already a long delay between chapters of my weekly AUs as it is. Maybe if you guys want it, I can post this AU sporadically? When I get to it? Who knows? I just hope you enjoy this 10k word preview, I guess XD

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chase opened his eyes to a killer headache.

He groaned and closed his eyes once more, pressing his hands to either side of his head. He must have had too much to drink again last night. He rolled over, expecting to feel his mattress or the sofa cushions shift under him... but the surface he was lying on was harder than that. Did he fall asleep on the floor? That was a new low.

It took him a moment to realize he wasn’t alone. There were voices around him.

The headache was already fading, but it still took some effort for him to open his eyes again and look around. He was, indeed, lying on the floor of his living room. Specifically, underneath the front window, pressed up against the blue-wallpapered wall. The floor was carpeted, but the short beige carpet wasn’t exactly soft. Not a good place to sleep. But that was the least of his concerns now, as he saw three strangers wandering around the room. “Hey!” he shouted, sitting up. “What the hell are you doing?!”

The strangers didn’t respond to him. Two of them were talking, standing between the coffee table and his TV stand. The third one was looking down at the brown sofa. He saw her pick up an empty bottle from the end table with a gloved hand and look it over. They weren’t trying to be subtle or careful about any of this. They were clearly visible in the sunlight coming from the open window. Were they robbing him? Who robbed someone in the middle of the day?!

“I asked you what the hell you were doing!” Chase snapped. He climbed to his feet—or tried to, at least. He felt... weirdly floaty. His arms and legs weren’t responding like they should. But he pushed through that and got up. “This is my house and I didn’t fucking let you in! Get out before I call the cops!”

They weren’t even phased by his shouting. Chase felt a spike of fear and panic, and his eyes darted around, looking for his phone. He left it on the coffee table last night... last he knew. He didn’t actually remember... a lot of last night. He didn’t drink that much, did he?

Whatever. His phone wasn’t on the table. But he knew that this house he rented came with a landline in the kitchen. Too bad the archway to the kitchen was through the weird guys in his living room. Chase hesitated, trying to plot a way through them, scanning the living room.

...something was wrong with the sunlight.

He frowned, unsure what it was. Curious, he raised his hand and waved it, staring at the ground to see if his shadow was weird or something.

...

In a way, he was right.

Because his shadow... wasn’t there at all.

Chase stared at the ground. He leaned side to side, hoping that maybe this was just the hangover messing with his vision or something. But... no, he didn’t have a shadow.

“Wh-what?” He breathed, a disbelieving laugh tracing the word. This couldn’t be right. He turned around to look out the window, having the absurd thought that someone was playing a trick on him with a special kind of light.

Outside the window, the small front garden of his house was overrun with more strangers. But... not just any strangers. Some of them were wearing familiar uniforms. And there was a big white van with sirens and open back doors—an ambulance. There was an ambulance outside, accompanied by paramedics and police. All outside his house.

He stared at them for a moment, then turned to look at the strangers in his room again. For the first time, he really took in what they were talking about. “Well if there’s no sign of a break-in, it’s pretty clear what it was, don’t you think?” one of them was saying.

Another one sighed. “Yeah. But it’s just... you want it to be anything else, don’t you?”

“What’s going on?” Chase asked. “Wh-what are you talking about? I-is someone hurt?!” His eyes darted around the room again, looking for something out of the ordinary—

There was a stain on the ground.

To his left. There was a stain on the ground.

A rusty red-brown splatter, partially covering the wall as well.

Blood.

Chase suddenly felt very cold. “What... what’s happening?” he whispered. He looked up at the strangers. They must have been more police officers—or detectives, maybe, since they weren’t in uniform. The two were carrying on with their conversation. The third was standing up and heading down the hallway. Completely unbothered. Like they... hadn’t seen or heard him at all... 

The cold feeling deepened.

“I-I... I-if you aren’t going to answer me, then—then I-I’m leaving!” Chase announced. He headed to the nearby front door, reaching for the doorknob—

His hand passed right through it.

He stared at the doorknob, not comprehending what just happened. Slowly, he reached out again, as if he thought that going slower would help. But... no. His hand passed through it again.

He looked at his hand. It looked normal to him. Maybe a bit pale? He took a deep breath...

Or... he tried to. His chest rose and fell, but he felt no air pass through his nose. Or through his mouth, when he tried again.

He wasn’t breathing.

He didn’t have a shadow.

People couldn’t see or hear him.

And his hand passed right through things.

Was he...?

No. No, this had to be a dream! A nightmare! Panicking, he ran right at the door—and as suspected, he passed right through the wood and ended up outside.

It was a sunny day. It was near the end of summer, before the chill of autumn started to set in.  There wasn’t a cloud in the sky to block the sun from beating down. And there was no wind rustling the clothes and hair of the people outside.

But he couldn’t feel the heat.

In a daze, he moved forward, weaving around the police. He moved towards the ambulance. Towards its open doors.

Inside was a black bag.

“Oh god...” Chase whispered. He backed up again. “F-fuck.” His chest was rising and falling quickly, but it was just a habit, he didn’t feel the air, he didn’t feel the breath—He ran his hand through his hair. He could feel that fine! And... he could feel something on the side of his head. Something he didn’t notice when he opened his eyes earlier.

The spot where his head hurt... it was sticky.

Chase felt his head, to make sure that this was what he thought it was. A sticky, slightly warm spot on either side of his head. His head didn’t hurt anymore, but—fuck, was this what caused it?!

His eyes darted around, looking for something, anything, to explain why this was happening. Did someone break into his house?! Attack him in his sleep?! Was anyone else in the neighborhood hurt, or was it just him?! He couldn’t see any answers to these questions. But... he could see someone looking at him.

Chase stared back at this stranger. He moved back and forth slightly, to be sure that the stranger was looking at him—which he was, as his eyes darted to follow Chase’s motion. This stranger was wearing a blue jacket, which was identical to the blue jackets that some of the other people around were wearing. A uniform? The stranger’s hair was brown, pulled back in a small manbun, and he had a beard that was thick but not too long. As Chase stared back at him, the stranger subtly jerked his head to the side, then walked that way. Did he want Chase to follow him?

He was hesitant at first, but what else was he supposed to do now? This guy was the only person who could see him so far. Maybe he had answers. Chase headed after him.

The stranger had ducked around the corner of the house, leaning by the iron fence that separated it from the neighbor. Now that Chase was closer, he could see the words SPDFI written in yellow on the jacket’s lapel. ‘SPD’... That probably stood for Scuabyrg Police Department—Scuabyrg being the city that Chase lived in, the city they were in right now. What did ‘FI’ stand for, though?

“Well, uh... hey,” the stranger said.

“Can you see me?” Chase blurted out.

The stranger laughed. “Yeah, I can. And hear you, too.” He smiled a bit. “I’m Jack McLoughlin. I work for Forensic Investigation. We’re the people who investigate crime scenes.”

Ah, so that’s what ‘FI’ stood for. “So... why are you... Wh-why can you see me?” Chase whispered. “When I’m... A-am I... Am I... dead?”

Jack’s smile fell and he became serious again. “I... want to be sensitive about this. But... yeah. You are.”

Chase didn’t say anything. He stared at Jack blankly.

“Take a moment to process it,” Jack said gently. “It’s... obviously it’s a lot. You’re probably overwhelmed. That’s okay.”

“I-I don’t... understand,” Chase whispered. “What happened to me?”

“...do you want me to be blunt and tell you?” Jack asked.

“Yeah.”

“Brace yourself, okay?” Jack paused for a moment. “You got shot in the head.”

“I figured that out,” Chase dismissed. He tapped the side of his head. “I felt the spot. But—why?!”

“Uh... well, from what I’ve overheard, they think...” Jack coughed awkwardly.

“Someone killed me?”

“No, uh, not someone... else.”

Chase stared. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach—or... the spot where his stomach would be, if he had a body. “They think that... it was self-inflicted?”

“Well, uh... if you’re so surprised, they’re probably wrong,” Jack said slowly.

“Y-yeah of course I am! I mean, I’m not—I wouldn’t say I never—But not while my—holy shit my family!” Chase gasped. “They’re going to—oh my god, I—Declan’s going to—Stacy—”

“Please try to calm down.” Jack’s voice was steady. “Focus on the world around you. You are here. This is real.”

Chase took a few more deep “breaths.” Even though it didn’t do anything, the motion was comforting. “I—I didn’t want—I mean, does anyone really want—”

“We’re going to take this slowly,” Jack continued. “One thing at a time. This is a massive change, but it will be okay.”

“Okay?! I’m dead!”

“But you’re still around. That means you still have stuff to do here.”

Chase pressed a hand to his chest. He could feel it. He could feel that. Jack was right, he was still here. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.” He nodded, then gave Jack another look. “So... You see dead people?”

Jack cracked a smile. “Yeah. I have a gift for it. A sixth sense, ESP, whatever you want to call it. Been that way all my life, so I’m used to it. I know a lot about ghosts and all that.”

“Okay... so... ghosts are real,” Chase stated. “People... really do become ghosts when they die.”

“Oh, not everyone,” Jack said. “It depends.”

“On what?”

“If you have unfinished business. People who die with big regrets, people who were in the middle of something, people who had one last thing they wanted to do... those guys become ghosts. It’s why I went into CSI and forensics and stuff. People who die in accidents or, uh... murders... a-are more likely to have that tether that keeps them to this side.” Jack tilted his head. “So... Do you know what your business is? It’s okay if you don’t. Not all ghosts do.”

“I...” Chase paused. “I... don’t know. I... Maybe it’s my family.”

“That would make sense,” Jack said slowly. “What’s your family like?”

“I-I have a wife, Stacy—well, um, technically she’s my ex-wife. We... finalized our divorce recently.” Chase winced just remembering it. “But, um, we don’t hate each other! We just... thought it was better this way. I-it was mostly her idea. And I guess I don’t blame her, I... I think I was a good dad, but maybe not a good, uh, homemaker. Anyway, yeah, uh, I-I also have a son. Declan. H-he’s ten.” He smiled slightly. “My little ball of sunshine.” The smile faded. “I would never... I-I wouldn’t leave him. Never.”

Jack nodded sympathetically. “I believe you. I guess... I guess that things aren’t what they look like in there. Someone must’ve framed it as a suicide.”

“But who the fuck would want to kill me?” Chase asked. “I’m a nobody! I’m a wannabe streamer, there’s no reason to sneak into my house and murder me!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know.” Jack shook his head. “Um... what’s your name, by the way? I should’ve asked you earlier.”

Chase laughed. “Oh, I didn’t even realize you hadn’t asked. I’m Chase. Chase Brody. Sometimes called BroAverage online, but there’s only a handful of people who’d know me as that, I bet.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Chase.” Jack smiled. “I’d like to help you get used to all this.”

“Get used to being a ghost?” Chase repeated doubtfully.

“People can get used to anything,” Jack said. “But it’s not just that. Now that you’re a ghost... well, you might want to know that there’s more to the world than you think.”

Chase blinked in surprise—realizing that, like breathing, the motion was no longer instinctual. “What do you mean?”

“There are... more creatures in the world than you’d expect,” Jack said slowly. “Creatures of the night, they’re sometimes called. The shadow world.”

“You mean like... what?”

“Again, do you want me to be blunt?”

“Might as well.”

Jack shrugged. “Like witches and vampires and werewolves and zombies and—”

“WHAT?!” Chase shouted.

“You told me to be blunt,” Jack pointed out.

“Fucking vampires and werewolves exist?!” If Chase hadn’t woken up as a ghost, he wouldn’t have believed it.

“Yeah.” Jack glanced to the side. “But, uh, unfortunately, I’m not sure I have enough time to explain all that. We were about to clear up here when you Awoke. I-I can come back some other time to explain more, but for now, let me give you the basics of being a ghost.”

“Uh... okay.” The news about other supernatural creatures still hadn’t fully sunken in, so might as well move on.

“You’re still a, uh, ‘new’ ghost,” Jack said delicately. “So you won’t be able to go much farther than the spot you died. But you seem pretty aware, so you’ll probably get stronger real quick.”

“Can I... talk to people?” Chase asked. “Other than you, I mean. Like, you always hear about ghostly voices on those ghost hunter shows.”

Jack chuckled. “Ghost hunter shows aren’t all that reliable. But... yeah. Ghosts can speak, be seen, and touch things, but you need to concentrate to be able to do it.”

“Concentrate?”

“It’s all about intention. You usually don’t think much about being seen, cause it just happens. But as a ghost, you need to think about it. Put effort into it. Most ghosts find it easiest to concentrate on speaking, since, uh, when you’re talking you’re already kind of intending to be heard. So just do that, but more so. Manifesting and touching things are a bit more difficult.”

“Okay...” Chase said slowly. “I think I’m following.”

“Here, I think I have time for a demonstration.” Jack reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small sphere, about the size of a golf ball, made of cloudy glass. “Hold out your hand.”

Chase did so. Jack put his left hand under his—Chase realized he could see it through his own hand—and then used his right hand to drop the glass sphere towards Chase’s hand. It passed right through and landed in Jack’s hand instead. “Uh...”

“You gotta concentrate on catching the ball,” Jack said. “You’re just expecting to be able to stop it. That’s not enough. Actively think about touching the ball. Ready to try again?”

Chase nodded slowly. As Jack started to drop the sphere towards his hand again, Chase really thought about the sphere, imagining how it would feel when it hit his hand, his hand which was definitely really there—

The sphere landed in his palm. For a second, Chase could feel the smooth texture and weight of it. Then he startled in surprise and the sphere slipped through, into Jack’s hand beneath his. Jack grinned. “Hey, first try! That’s very good, not all ghosts can pass in the first ten tries.”

“H-ha. Thanks.” Chase smiled softly.

“Hey McLoughlin!” a voice shouted. “What’re you doing? We’re heading out!”

Jack winced. He looked at Chase apologetically. “Guess I gotta run. I’ll try to stop by as soon as I can. Sometime tomorrow, if possible, or the day after.”

“Oh. Yeah no, uh, go ahead.” Chase nodded.

“See you around, Chase,” Jack said, then turned and left.

“See you around,” Chase repeated, watching him go. He stared as the police, paramedic, and forensics guys all piled into cars that drove away. The last to go was the ambulance... the ambulance with his body.

Chase sat down on the ground. He looked down at himself. A gray shirt, jeans with holes in the knees, and plain white socks. That was what he had died in. This was what he would look like forever now. He could feel his favorite cap on his head, too. He started to reach up to take it off, but stopped. This wasn’t really his favorite cap. The same way these weren’t really his clothes, and this wasn’t really his body. What if the cap disappeared when he took it off? He didn’t want to lose it. After all... this was all he really had now, wasn’t it?

Fuck. He was dead. 

And yet... he was still here.

Chase looked up into the sky and watched the sun move gradually, letting it all sink in.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Evening came, and the sun soon completely faded from the sky. The city lights turned on, filling the shadows with artificial brightness. For most everyday citizens, these were the quiet hours of the day. But for some, the city really came alive at night.

One such person was Jackie Sheach, who was walking through the downtown streets with complete confidence. Jackie wore his favorite red hoodie today, along with one of his many pairs of ripped jeans. His brown hair is messy, his face partially hidden by a dark beard, but his blue eyes seemed to shine in the darkness, like they were reflecting what little light there was. He was currently talking on the phone. “—No yeah I’ll be back before midnight, I promise,” he said.

“You better,” said a female voice on the other end. “You stay out way too late, Jackie. Your sleep schedule can’t handle it!”

“My sleep schedule?!” Jackie laughed. “Lily, c’mon. Do any of us have consistent sleep schedules? It’s kind of part of the whole thing, isn’t it?”

“We’re going to set a good example for Bryson,” Lily said firmly.

“The new guy?”

“Yep. You remember how it can be an adjustment. The least we can do is provide a solid foundation!”

“You sound like a youth leader,” Jackie commented.

“I might as well be a youth leader with all of you acting like children sometimes!” Lily said. “Do youth leaders even still exist? I haven’t seen any, like, youth hangout centers in years.”

“Who knows?” Jackie shrugged. “Anyway, yeah, I’ll be back by midnight. Schneep’s responsible, he’ll make sure I stick to my word. Speaking of which...” He could see his destination coming up. A hanging wooden sign with the image of a crescent moon and the words “The Harvest Moon” burned into it. The sign dangled over a plain wooden door, sandwiched between two businesses with flashing neon signs. It would have been so easy to miss it. “I’m here. Don’t want to keep him waiting.”

“See you later, Jackie,” Lily said.

“See you.”

The door to the Harvest Moon was plain, and there was no sign to say that the business was open. But there didn’t need to be. If you were here, you knew the hours. Jackie opened the door right up, revealing a staircase heading down. He walked down the twelve or so steps and arrived at a glass door that had the same moon logo as the sign. In front of the door was a Welcome mat. “Heeeere we are,” Jackie said to himself, pushing the door open. A chiming sound rang out—not a bell, more like soft wind chimes.

The Harvest Moon was a small establishment, its walls made of exposed red brick with pale wooden columns painted with some decals and covered in posters. Bar-shaped light bulbs dangled from wooden rafters. To the left and right, when walking in from the entrance, were long pale wooden tables and chairs, taking up most of the dining area. A bar was pressed against the far wall, and next to it was an open entrance leading to the wood-paneled hallway that led to the bathrooms and kitchen. Jackie could smell the mix of various pub dishes and alcoholic drinks in the air.

This time of night, the Harvest Moon was fairly empty, since it was still early for many of its patrons. Jackie walked past the tables, taking note of the few customers in here. There was a trio of younger, college-aged guys that he hadn’t seen in here before, talking casually over a plate of fries. Beneath the fried smell of the food, Jackie could pick up on a bright scent, clear and bringing to mind something that sparkled. There were two girls around Jackie’s own age, each nursing a fruity cocktail. One had the scent of ash and burning, while the other had a familiar sort of musk—though he knew she wasn’t part of Heartwoods, so maybe she was in some other pack. There was a person wearing a dramatic-looking black cloak in the corner, not eating anything. The scent coming from that direction was a mix of old books and freshly-mown grass.

And there was one more person sitting at the bar, checking a watch on his wrist. Jackie slid onto a stool next to him, recognizing the scent before he even recognized the person. Something salty, like an ocean breeze, but missing the undercurrent of blood and sweat that most creatures had. “Hey, Schneep. Sorry I’m late.”

The man turned to look at him. “I went to so much trouble to get here early just for you, you know,” he said with a scowl. He had a passing resemblance to Jackie, with his brown hair and blue eyes, but his hair and beard were much neater, his features slightly more angular. His skin had a slight gray tinge to it—just enough to notice. He wore a long black coat over a pale brown sweater and darker brown dress pants. “Do you know when I had to wake up? Sunset! And you are late?! I could have slept in.” His voice was tinged with a German accent.

“Yeahhh, sorry,” Jackie hissed. “I had a last-minute delivery I had to do. Who orders food at eight o’clock at night?”

“A lot of people I know,” Schneep muttered. “And not all of them walk in the shadows. Some of them are just night people. Did you get it there in time?”

“Uhhh... yeah?”

“Why is there a question mark at the end of that answer?”

“I mean, I got it there,” Jackie said. “But I thought it would’ve been faster to shift and run. Turns out it was not. Because people noticed and I had to take the long way to lose them.”

“Hmm.” Schneep reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, opening up an app. “That explains this.” He showed Jackie his screen. On it was a blurry photo of some giant dog-like thing running across a city street with a bag in its mouth. The photo was clearly posted on social media.

Jackie groaned. “Lily is gonna kill me.”

A woman approached them from the other side of the bar, with dark skin and a head of black curls. She wore a green button-down shirt with short sleeves and a name tag, but Jackie had been here enough to recognize her face and her petrichor scent. “Welcome back again, you two,” she said. “The usual?”

“To start with, yeah,” Jackie said. “Thanks, Dolores.”

“Yes, thank you, Dolores,” Schneep said.

Dolores nodded and smiled and turned around. She pointed at several bottles on the shelves behind the bar, and they started to move on their own, pouring into cups and mixing together. A minute later, she turned back around and deposited a glass in front of each of them. Jackie’s was a lowball glass filled with a purple-blue drink, and Schneep’s was a martini glass with a red liquid inside. “Enjoy. Are we going all night or do you have work, doc?”

Schneep shook his head. “It is my night off.”

“I, uh, need to be back home by midnight,” Jackie mumbled. “I promised Lily. She wants everyone to start having consistent sleep schedules.”

Schneep raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it hard to get a consistent schedule with the moon situation?”

“That’s what I said!” Jackie took a drink from his glass. “But we have this new guy, Bryson. She wants us to be good examples for him.”

Dolores chuckled, leaning on the bar. “New guy? You make it sound like it’s a job.”

“Well I mean... it takes up as much time as a job does,” Jackie said slowly. “Technically?”

“It does not,” Schneep muttered.

Jackie nudged him.

“Do not be like that!” Schneep said. “It is true! A transformation like that is so much more than a job. It is a change in your lifestyle.” He took a sip of his own drink. “Well, ah... how is your new guy adjusting?”

“Better than most people do, to be honest,” Jackie said. “He says he had trouble making friends before so he’s grateful that we’re all being so friendly. His only complaint is that he’s not sure how to explain it to his mom.”

Schneep chuckled. “Well, that is a relatively small problem to have in the scheme of things.” Another drink. “He is lucky to have found your pack. You are good people.”

“Daww, really?” Jackie grinned.

“Really.” Schneep nodded. “Sometimes I wish we had packs, too.”

“Dude, nothing’s stopping you guys from forming one. They’re not special to wolves. Any group of close people is a pack. But it’s just not called that, it’s called a friend group or something. But if you want a cool name, you could call it a... uh...” Jackie hesitated. “What’s the word for a group of bats?” He took his phone out of his hoodie pocket to google it while Schneep and Dolores laughed.

Before he could open up his browser, though, a notification appeared on his screen. A text message from a contact named “Medium at Large,” in a group chat. Hey do you know driving directions to Marvins place?

Jackie made a face. Schneep leaned over to look at him. “Oh? Something happen?” He looked down at his own phone, having also received the same message in the same group chat. “Ah, I see. Jackie, you should not be so unkind to Marvin.”

“I’m not unkind to him,” Jackie growled—actually growled, a rumble deep in his throat. “I consider him a friend. I just... don’t trust the smell of his magic.” Witches, like Marvin, drew power from various sources. Dolores here was an earth witch, that group of college guys from earlier were probably star witches, that woman who smelled like ash was likely a fire witch, and so on. Plant witches, river witches, love witches, chaos witches—there were all sorts of sources for magic, and all of them smelled different to Jackie’s keen senses. He liked Marvin. He really did. But he’d never smelled another witch with a magic scent like that. Something sour, almost acidic. It was strange. And Marvin had never explained what it was.

“Mm-hmm. If you consider him a friend, you should trust that he knows what he’s doing,” Schneep said, narrowing his eyes.

“I do! I trust him. I don’t trust that magic.” Jackie sighed. “I just... hope everything is... okay with it.” He shook his head. “Anyway.” He sent a reply text to the chat. Sorry Jack. You know i dont drive.

Schneep also texted a reply. Didn’t you JUST get your license? 

Jack responded instantly. Yeah which is why I need the practice. Ill need to drive to Marvins place eventually, wont I?

Well I do not have a license at all, Schneep said. So I don’t drive. So I am no help. Look it up on your GPS.

Jackie chuckled. “How old are you? In all those ages, you haven’t learned to drive?”

“I am only forty-five!” Schneep snapped. “Don’t say I am an old man!” Despite claiming that was his age, he didn’t look much older than Jackie, who was thirty.

“That’s plenty of time to learn to drive.”

“So is thirty years!”

“Hey, I’ve gotten along enough with a bus pass,” Jackie said.

Dolores raised an eyebrow. “Might be easier to deliver food to people if you had a car, y’know.”

Jackie made a face at her.

Jack replied in the chat. Fine Ill use Maps. 

Whyre you going to marvin anyway? Jackie asked. Just a visit?

I think I found someone interesting at work today.Tell you two about it later.  I want Marvins help with something first.

Jackie raised an eyebrow. He glanced over at Schneep, who looked similarly intrigued. “It is probably a ghost, yes?” Schneep asked.

“Yeah, probably.” Jackie closed out of the texts and went back to his browser. A minute passed in silence. “Oh hey, apparently a group of bats is called a colony.”

Schneep burst into laughter.

The next few hours passed with idle chatter and more drinks. The Harvest Moon gradually filled up with people, and some more workers arrived to help with the nighttime rush. But true to his word, Jackie left before midnight... mostly because Schneep dragged him out, insisting that he had enough drinks for the night.

The two of them walked down the street towards the nearest bus stop. In most cities, the buses didn’t run this late at night. But Scuabyrg was different, with such a high population of... those who were awake in the darkness. There were enough everydays who knew about them to keep things running normally.

“No no no, III’m good t’walk, I can do it on m’own!” Jackie said, leaning heavily on Schneep. 

“Alright. Go on and do it, then.” Schneep stopped walking, pushing him off a bit.

Jackie took a few stumbling steps forward... and then stopped. “I think... I was wrong.”

Schneep grinned. “At least you’re sober enough to be aware of it.”

Jackie snorted and rolled his eyes. “You an’ yourrrr... vamp tolerance. Why don’ you guys get... get it easily? Y’know.”

“It can’t pass the blood barrier,” Schneep said, his face totally straight.

Jackie laughed. “Blood barrier, that’s funny.”

“No, I am being serious. Well, partly. We cannot digest or absorb most things easily, and that includes alcohol and other drugs...”

Jackie tuned out the scientific explanation that Schneep went on. Not intentionally. He just got distracted, thinking about how different Schneep looked after some drinks. His skin was more flushed, its gray tint basically gone. And his personal scent was overwhelmed by the smell of blood. Jackie inhaled, trying to smell that oceany scent...

And picked up on something else instead.

Jackie stiffened, trying to concentrate through the drinks clouding his thoughts. Where was that smell coming from? And what was it? It was... a being, of some kind. He could tell that much. Whoever it was, they smelled almost overwhelmingly of some chemical scent—like formaldehyde. That stuff that was used to preserve dead bodies. Jackie wrinkled his nose in disgust, looking around for the source of the scent... 

And then he looked up. And saw a figure crouched on the top of a lamp post. They tensed the moment he noticed them, and then lunged.

“Schneep!” Jackie shoved him to the side, just in time to avoid the figure. Schneep yelped in surprise, and Jackie whirled on the figure, who was moving so fast. He jumped at them and halfway through the jump, he shifted. In between one blink and the next, Jackie was no longer a human, but instead a giant wolf, his thick fur colored varying shades of brown. His teeth snapped at the figure, and probably would have bitten them—but the drinks still affected him in wolf form, and his sharp reactions were a bit too slow.

The figure tackled Schneep to the ground. He cried out, and reacted instinctively, biting onto the figure’s arm. The figure pulled back, leaving the light from the lamp post behind, and—and disappeared.

Jackie stared at the spot where they’d been in shock. Then he turned to Schneep. He whined, nudging him with his snout.

“I am alright, Jackie,” Schneep said, sitting up. Some blood coated his lips, and his fangs were now visible, elongated canines on the top and bottom row of his teeth.

Jackie tilted his head, ears twitching.

“I promise I am fine.” Schneep got to his feet, patting himself down... then froze. “Son of a bitch! That motherfucker stole my wallet!”

Jackie let out a series of barks that sounded similar to laughter.

“Hey, I had about fifty pounds in there, this is not funny!” Schneep said.

Jackie rolled his eyes, a human expression that looked so strange on his wolf form’s face. Who carried cash these days?

“Oh shut up,” Schneep said. He sighed. “At least we know something.” He wiped his mouth on his black coat sleeve. “That was probably another vampire who attacked me. One with a distinct bloodtaste. So, that means I will have to report petty theft to the Night Council. Great.”

Well. That was surprising. But it was getting closer and closer to midnight. Jackie continued walking to the bus stop.

“Change back, Jackie, even the night buses will balk at a giant wolf,” Schneep said.

Jackie shook his head. It was easier to walk on four legs when drunk than two.

“Jackie,” Schneep said in a warning voice.

Jackie broke into a loping run.

“Get back here!” Schneep shouted, running after him. “I am not going down as the man who got on the bus with a giant wolf!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was a slow night at the shop so far, just like most nights. Which was good. Marvin owned and ran Magnificent Magics by himself, if things got too busy here he’d have to hire more people, and that wasn’t in his nature. He knew where all his wares were, and had an exact way of organizing things that an employee might not follow. Though he did sometimes consider hiring someone to take care of the cats that showed up...

“Higgins, no.” Marvin picked up one of the cats in question, who was staring at a second cat with his tail flicking wildly. “Leave Fluffington alone.” Even though there were about five to eight cats in the shop at any point in time, he only actually owned two of them. Higgins was one, a round white cat with gray patches on his coat. The other was Sam, a black-and-orange tortoiseshell with big green eyes. She was upstairs right now, and not bothering the other cats. Marvin was not sure why so many cats showed up here. But he was happy to take care of them whenever they stopped by.

Sometimes he thought his shop was more like a cat cafe than an actual shop. But in reality, the only cat decorations were the trees in the corner of the rooms. The rest of the shop was a combination of a bookstore and a witch’s hut. Bookcases lined the walls, filled with all sorts of books. Paper cover, hard cover, leather cover. Various trinkets also sat on the shelves. Candles and crystals and bottles and incense and more. More things hung from the ceiling, mostly bundles of plants. There was a counter at the back of the room with more of these trinkets, and a cash register for purchases. Two doors sat in the wall behind the counter, one leading upstairs to Marvin’s apartment, the other leading to a bathroom/cat caretaking room. The main body of the shop was filled with small round tables, all covered with silky tablecloths in various jewel tones. Some of them had more books or trinkets, but some were empty, meant for the customers to sit at.

“Here you go.” Marvin sat Higgins down on the nearest chair, bending down to drop him on the cushion. Higgins started batting at Marvin’s hair that dangled around his face, and Marvin jerked backwards. “Come on, Higgins.” He pushed his hair back. “It’s not even that long.” The cats were the reason he kept his hair shorter than usual, and done in a half-up style. To minimize cats messing with it while still looking stylish.

As Marvin dealt with Higgins, another cat, Draco, hopped onto a table, climbed onto a stack of books, and used it as a springboard to jump to a bookshelf. The book stack toppled under the force of the jump.

“Hey!” Marvin whirled around, taking Draco off the shelves. “I know you like to be tall, but you have to be careful getting up there.” He put him on the floor, then gathered up the books that Draco knocked over.

As he restacked the books, he heard the shop door open behind him. “One moment!” he called, finishing up the stack before he turned around. He grinned. “How can I help you?”

The man who walked in was unfamiliar to Marvin. A new customer, how fun. He wore a fancier outfit: a white button-up shirt with frilly cuffs, over which was a blue vest with faint, darker blue patterns. There was a neat bow-tie around his neck, holding up a high collar. His dark brown hair was neat and straight, and he had a dark mustache that curled at the end. Blue eyes looked around the shop with curiosity. As Marvin observed this man, he noticed the gray tint to his skin. A vamp, for sure. Maybe one of the older ones, judging by the style he dressed in. 

After a moment of awkward silence, the man walked up to Marvin. He reached into his pocket and took out a small spiral notebook with a pattern of stars on the cover, as well as a pen. He wrote something down and showed it to Marvin. Hello. My apologies, but I am unable to speak. Can you tell me more about this shop?

“Oh! Alright.” Marvin nodded. He raised his hands and started to gesture: speaking in British Sign Language. Can you understand this? Do you want to speak this way?

The man looked surprised, then laughed silently. He set the notebook and pen down on the nearest table, and began to sign with a bit more flourish than Marvin did. I can hear you fine, you do not need to sign as well. But thank you for asking.

“No problem.” Marvin flashed a smile. “Ayway, uh, yeah, I can tell you about the shop. This is my place. We sell all sorts of magical supplies. Mostly stuff that’s useful for witches, I’m not sure if there’s much a vampire would find of use. Oh! But I do sell blood remover and potions.”

The man nodded. He wandered around the edge of the shop. Some of the cats walked up to sniff at him. He looked down at them and smiled a friendly, closed-lip smile. Most of them hissed and ran off, but Higgins kept sniffing him.

“Sorry, most of them aren’t vamp-trained,” Marvin said. “And, uh, Higgins isn’t for sale.”

They’re for sale? the man asked, interested.

“Only as pets,” Marvin said firmly. “I don’t do blood here.”

The man looked horrified at the implication.

“Oh, you’re offended! Good.” Marvin laughed. Vampires were tricky to deal with, morally, given their diet. “So you’re a blood bank person? Not an animal person?”

The man nodded. When possible. You know how it is.

“Hmm. I probably don’t. I haven’t lived like you have.”

I see. Well, sometimes there is... desperation, the man said. But I try to avoid that.

Marvin nodded slowly. 

May I have your name, sir? The man asked.

“I’m Marvin. Marvin Fletcher. I’m the owner.” Marvin gestured to himself. He was wearing one of his favorite outfits today. An open button-up short-sleeved shirt with an art nouveau flower design on it. Underneath was a sleeveless black turtleneck. He hoped that this was making a good impression on the new customer. “And you?”

The man picked up the notebook and pen again, writing down his name and showing it to Marvin. Jameson Jackson. Some people call me JJ.

“Alliteration! Nice.” Marvin grinned. “Let me know if you need anything, Mr. Jameson Jackson.”

Jameson nodded. He continued to look around the shop, taking an interest in some of the books. Marvin took care to have a lot of variety for purchase. A lot of them were spellbooks for witches, but there were also studies on magical creatures, histories of the shadow world, and some popular fictional stories set in the shadow world, just for fun. Jameson flipped through some of the books, reading the first couple pages or the blurb on the cover before putting them back.

The shop door soon opened again. “Marvin!” A man walked into the shop, wearing a black T-shirt and jacket. “I have something I—”

Jameson suddenly dropped the book he was looking at, staring at the newcomer in... what can only be described as surprise and fear.

“Hey, Jack,” Marvin said, then looked at Jameson. “Don’t worry about him. This is Jack, he’s a meddie, and a friend of mine.”

“Uh... hi,” Jack said slowly, looking at Jameson. “Didn’t mean to freak you out.”

Jameson shook his head. He bent down and picked up the book he dropped, returning it to its place on the shelf. It’s alright, he said.

“Oh, BSL, huh? I’m not as fluent as Marv is, sorry.”

“He just said it’s alright,” Marvin translated.

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Well, anyway.” Marvin decided to move on. “What brings you to my shop now? I know this is regular hours for me, but it’s starting to get late for you.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “It’s only nine o’clock. I would’ve been here sooner, but I took some wrong turns.”

“Wait... did you drive here?” Marvin blinked. “I thought you still only had a permit.”

“Nope! I got my license on Tuesday, remember?” Jack beamed proudly.

“Ah. A whole three days ago. Good. Good good good.” Marvin nodded slowly. “Well, uh... what’s so important that you had to drive here?”

Jack walked over to a table at the back, talking as he went. “I had work today. Apparently there was a death down on Gold Sky Street, so you know, of course, I have to check it out.” He pulled out a chair and sat down. “Kind of a sad scene. The guy who lived there had probably been gone for a while, Jenkins estimates at least twelve hours, and nobody had realized he was gone until a solicitor came trying to sell stuff and saw the body through the window.”

“God,” Marvin muttered. He noticed Jameson listening in with curiosity, though Jameson was clearly trying to hide it. “So was his ghost there?”

“Yep.” Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a cloudy glass sphere about the size of a golf ball. “And he was a pretty strong ghost. Full-body apparition without even trying. Knew right away he was gone and, uh, freaked out about it. Generally acted really alive.” He set the sphere on the table. “I did the touch test with him, too, and he got it right away.”

“Really?” Marvin tilted his head, curious. Jack had talked with him about the ghosts he sometimes encountered on his job before. Enough for Marvin to know that this was a very rare occurrence.

“Yeah, and something else weird. The guy didn’t remember his death.”

“And that’s... Why is that weird?”

“Even weaker ghosts know their death,” Jack said. “Even if they die in their sleep or die when somehow drugged. They instinctively know the details. This guy—oh, his name is Chase, by the way—didn’t know who killed him. Most murdered ghosts know that.”

Jameson started in surprise. You were at a murder scene?!

Marvin laughed. “Yeah, Jameson. Jack works for the forensics, he gets called out to murder scenes all the time.”

“Well, uh, the detectives don’t think this was a murder scene,” Jack said slowly. “They think that Chase got super drunk and uh...” He made a finger gun and pointed it at the side of his head.

“Oh god,” Marvin whispered.

“But Chase is insisting he didn’t do that,” Jack said. “And if he really did get blackout drunk and do that, he would know that’s what happened. But he doesn’t know anything else, either. So maybe he did and something is fucking with his memory? I don’t know.” He tapped the glass sphere. “But that’s where I wanted your help, Marvin.”

“You got some of his essence in the sensor?” Marvin asked.

“Mm-hmm. Can you tell me if there was... anything magical about his death?”

“On it.” Marvin walked around the counter at the back of the shop, picking up something he’d left behind there. A white mask shaped like a cat’s face, with some markings on it. The four card suits—heart, club, diamond, spade—were drawn on the forehead in black, while the ears of the mask were filled in with green and there was a black nose and six curvy green whiskers. When he tilted it in the light, it seemed to shimmer with more green markings, but they were hard to read. He walked back over to where Jack was sitting and sat down at a chair across from him.

Should I leave for this? Jameson asked, looking a bit nervous.

“No, don’t worry, it’s not like this is a secret spell or anything,” Marvin laughed. He put the mask on his face, adjusting it so it was comfortable. “You could watch, even—if you’re okay with that, Jack.”

“Yeah, why not?” Jack shrugged.

“Great! That’s be fifty pounds to observe, then.”

Jameson made a choking sound. Are you serious?!

“Absolutely not.” Marvin grinned.

Jameson stared—and then laughed. It was a strange, wheezing sound, clearly genuine but with no voice behind it. You’re a right funny man, aren’t you?

“I can be.” Marvin stretched his arms, wiggling his fingers and loosening up for magic. His short sleeves left his forearms and hands bare, showing off the tattoos he had. Celtic knot-like designs wrapped around his arms, like he was wearing four bracelets on each arm, from elbow to wrist. On the back of each hand was a unique design: a spell circle on his left, and an eye design surrounded by swirls on his right. Green light flickered over all the visible tattoos, like oil on water, and then the eye design on his right hand began to glow a solid green. He concentrated, passing his right hand over the sensor.

Can I ask what this is? Jameson asked, not bothering to hide his curiosity.

“This glass ball? It’s a sensor,” Jack said. “If there’s a ghost in an area, you feel it get unnaturally cold. And if a ghost directly touches it, it absorbs some of their essence. Not enough to cause any trouble for the ghost, of course.”

While he talked, Marvin muttered the appropriate spell words under his voice. His eyes flared green as well, bright as the glow coming from his tattoo. His vision blurred for a moment, and then cleared up. He could see lights in the cloudy glass of the sensor now. Most of them were faint, barely there, really. Leftover essence from other ghosts that Jack has used the sensor on. But most of the sensor was taken up by a bright yellow-green light. “Whoa.” Marvin blinked, leaning backwards.

“What is it?” Jack asked.

“There’s definitely some magic involved with this,” Marvin said. “This ghost’s essence is strong, alright. And there’s something different about it... What did you say his name was? Chase?”

“Yep. Chase Brody.”

“Was he an everyday or something else?”

“Uhhh... far as I could tell. I mean, if you’re not an everyday, you’re less likely to be surprised when you die and become a ghost,” Jack figured.

“You wouldn’t be surprised,” Marvin pointed out.

“Well I’m special. Can you tell what’s different about his essence?”

“Hmm...” Marvin frowned. “Judging by the color... maybe there’s some necromancy, of some kind? The shade is a bit off. You don’t normally get an in-between color like this. It kind of looks sickly, which is why it might be death magic...”

Jameson looked at Marvin. So... you’re a death witch? he asked.

“Huh? Oh, nope.” Marvin looked up at him and grinned. “You don’t need to be a death witch to do this spell, to look at ghost essence. You don’t even need to be a death witch to do necromancy, but it makes it much easier.” He turned his attention back to the sensor. “Hmm... I... don’t know the specifics of this magic, though. There’s not enough of a sample for me to figure it out.”

“Well that makes sense,” Jack said. “It was only in contact with him for like, three seconds total at most.”

“Really? And it left such a strong imprint?” Marvin looked at the sensor again in a new light. “You weren’t kidding about him being a strong ghost. Hmm...” He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking. “I don’t know what’s going on with this guy, but I’m sure that some sort of magic has fucked with him in some way.”

Jack nodded. “Weird. Do you... think we’ll need to report it to the Night Council?”

“I dunno. Depends on what spell it is, and if it was done with consent.”

Jack frowned. “Well Chase doesn’t remember what happened, so I doubt he wanted this to happen. Otherwise he would’ve made sure he remembered after he fucking died. But that’s not exactly proof, is it?” He went quiet for a moment. “I think... I need to help him.”

“You help a lot of ghosts, Jack,” Marvin pointed out.

“No, I mean... more than I usually do. The guy’s lost. He says he really cares about his family, but he lived alone, and his house, uh... wasn’t in the best condition. Not to mention this weird magic you just found.” Jack paused. “I want to see what I can do.”

Marvin nodded. “Alright. Well, let me know if there’s anything else I can do. Be happy to help.” He pushed his mask back onto his forehead.

A cat jumped up onto the table and sniffed the sensor for a moment before slowly reaching out with a paw—

“Luna, no.” Marvin grabbed her, pulling her back into his lap.

Jack laughed. “That’s a new one.”

“Want her?” Marvin held up the black cat. “I’m calling her Luna Void but you can change that if you want.”

“Nah, my apartment doesn’t allow pets.” Jack paused. “Though I was wondering about getting a new place.”

“Hmm. Fair.” Marvin looked over at Jameson, who was standing idly nearby. “Want a cat? I know I said they weren’t vamp-trained earlier, but I could put in the effort.”

Jameson smiled softly. No thanks. My roommate probably won’t take kindly to an animal.

Marvin raised an eyebrow. A roommate, huh? “Well good to know.” He put Luna Void down on the floor again. “A question for you, by the way, Jameson Jackson. Are you new in town or what?”

I’m fairly new, yes, Jameson said. Only been here for about a week. I’m getting to know the layout of the city. How did you know that?

“Between me and Jack we know a lot of those who walk in the shadows in Scuabyrg. So you were either really reclusive, or you just arrived.”

Jameson laughed silently. Clever.

Jack stood up. “Well, uh, I’m gonna head home now, Marvin. Nice to meet you, Jameson. If you ever need help with stuff, you can reach out to me. Uh, hang on. I have cards for this.” He tapped his pockets, then pulled out a card and passed it over. “My phone number’s on that. Do you have a phone?”

Jameson reached into his pocket and pulled out... a phone that looked like it was from the early 2000s. The kind that slid open to form a keyboard. Marvin held back a laugh.

“Yeah, that will work,” Jack said. “Anyway, I can help with a lot of different stuff. Other everydays tend to listen to me, and I can help with ghost stuff of course, and anything else you might need my meddie powers for.”

Thank you, Jameson said, and gave another close-lipped smile.

“You can stop by here anytime, too,” Marvin said. “As long as you’re not a dick about stuff, but you seem chill enough. I can do spells and card readings for a price, but I don’t do the French or Thoth arcana, only traditional cards and crystaleye.”

I’ll keep that in mind. Lovely to meet you. Jameson tilted his head. I think I’ll leave for the night but maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.

“See you!” Marvin waved, and Jameson headed out. “Bye, Jack!”

“Goodbye!” Jack also waved as he left.

The shop was empty again. Well... except for the cats. Marvin had barely a quiet moment before he saw two of them bolt across the floor, the smaller one jumping on the bigger one. “Bee, Ragamuffin, no!” he shouted, getting up. “Not by those shelves, you’ll break stuff!”

A few more customers dropped in as the night wore on, but there wasn’t much notable. Marvin closed the shop at one am, as he always did, then headed upstairs to relax a little before going to bed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Scuabyrg seemed like a lovely city so far. Its name was a bit peculiar—he didn’t realize it was pronounced ‘skya-berg’ until tonight—but Jameson had heard stranger names in his long life. He’d spent the past couple nights exploring the area, getting to know the shadowy haunts before returning to the place they were staying in the early hours of the morning.

Tonight, it was about four thirty when he made his way back. Their “home” was one of many identical townhouses on Steward Street, an area in the northwest of the city that was very old. They dated back before the days when England had a window tax: the more windows a building had, the more property tax the owners had to pay. So many people bricked up their windows to avoid paying what they couldn’t afford. It wasn’t a pleasant place to live for most people, but Jameson wasn’t ‘most people.’

JJ walked up to a three-story brown brick house with two metal letters on the side designating it number 77. The window frames persisted, but they were filled not with glass, but with identical brown bricks. Jameson reached into his pockets and pulled out a set of brass keys, unlocking the door and heading inside.

It was dark, but JJ was used to seeing in the dark. Even so, he turned on the lights for comfort. The furniture in the living room was old, with peeling upholstery and worn wood. In the corner was a small kitchenette with stained appliances. The stove was covered with dust, but the fridge was good as new. He made a detour to grab something from it, then headed up the stairs.

As he passed by the second story landing—

“Think fast, bitch!”

There was a blur of motion in the corner of his vision. Only the warning shout kept him from being smacked in the head, as even his supernaturally fast reflexes barely gave him time to duck. The small item hit the wall then fell to the ground. A voice laughed. “Oh shit, JJ, you did it! Wasn’t expecting that!”

JJ looked over at the laughter. Standing in an open doorway was a man with wild brown hair and grayish skin, his wide eyes blue with a ring of green around the middle of the pupil. He was wearing one of his favorite outfits: an overly large black leather jacket, a black tank top with the words “Bite Me” written on it in red, black jeans held up by a belt with a silvery buckle, and tall black boots with inch-thick soles. He leaned against the doorframe, grinning wildly to show off his fangs. JJ froze for a moment, then forced himself to relax. Hello, Anti, he said in sign language.

“Aw, you seem so sad to see me!” Anti’s grin widened. “Were you worried I would leave you?”

No. No, he definitely wasn’t worried about that. Where have you been? JJ asked calmly. For the past three nights, Anti hadn’t come back to the townhouse at sunrise. He would think that Anti had been caught in the sunlight, but he knew better to think that Anti would be so foolish. He was probably getting to know the city his own way. And honestly, Jameson had enjoyed the nights without him.

“None of your fucking business, JJ!” Anti laughed. “Hey, look at that.” He pointed at the thing that he threw at JJ’s head. 

Jameson looked down at it, then slowly bent over to pick it up again without fully turning away from Anti. It was a dark brown leather wallet.

“Got that from some vamp fucker earlier tonight. He had fifty pounds in there!” Anti was suddenly holding a handful of bills, pinching them between two fingers. Then, just as quickly, he put them back in his pocket. “Fucking moron. We should go out to eat soon.”

JJ raised an eyebrow. Then he looked down at the wallet, examining it for anything else. There was a debit card in there—Anti didn’t like those, said they were too traceable—and some other card. He took that out. This was some sort of work ID, for a place called St. Damian’s Hospital. The blurry picture on the ID showed a man with brown hair and glasses, and the name identified the person as Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein, of the Haematology Department. So that’s who the wallet belonged to.

“What? Wanna keep it?” Anti asked. “Go for it. Fucking useless things, anyway.” He shrugged. “Anyway. What’ve you been up to?”

Exploring the city, JJ said.

“Find anything fun?”

Not your type of fun.

Anti narrowed his eyes. “Oh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

JJ looked at him. You know we don’t enjoy the same activities.

“And what’re you implying?” When JJ didn’t say anything, Anti growled. “Fine. Shut up, then.” His eyes momentarily shifted color, his irises becoming bright red. “It’s getting early, go to bed. See if I fucking care.”

Jameson felt his muscles tense. Without another world, he turned and continued up the stairs to the third floor.

Even though this was the nicest story out of all of the floors in the run-down old townhouse, Anti had elected to claim the second floor instead—the story with a hole in the wooden floor, a smaller bedroom, and water-damaged walls. Jameson hadn’t said anything about it, just in case that would prompt Anti to say something like “hmm, that’s a good point, I do deserve the best floor!” and kick him out.

The third floor had a central living area, with soft sofas and sheer white curtains framing the bricked-up windows. There was no central lighting, but Anti had ‘acquired’ some lamps when Jameson commented on how they should have them, if just for show if nothing else. There was a nice desk tucked away in the corner, with tall dark wood bookshelves on either side. Jameson hadn’t yet been able to fill them with any trinkets or books, but maybe he could pick up some from that shop he found earlier in the night. Maybe he’d be able to actually hang onto the books this time, instead of being forced to leave them behind when they moved.

The one room on the third floor was the bedroom. He headed straight there, despite not being all that tired, opening up the door and ducking inside. There wasn’t much in here, just an old claw-footed dresser, a four-poster bed in the center, and a standing mirror. A mirror that must have had a silver backing, because Jameson wasn’t able to see his reflection in it.

He changed out of his outfit and into a set of matching pajamas—one of the few things he’d been able to grab when Anti suddenly decided to move them from their last city. Then he climbed into bed. The blue comforter had not been taken with them from the last city. It had also been ‘acquired’ by Anti, along with some pillows. Jameson had no idea why Anti listened to his requests for things to put in their house. Not when he didn’t listen to anything else Jameson asked. But he was going to take what he could get, and not question it.

Jameson stared up at the ceiling, eyes tracing the pattern of stains on the old plaster. He wasn’t tired yet. But the sun would be rising soon. So he might as well try.

He could hear Anti walking around on the floor below, doing who-knows-what. But he tried to put him out of his mind. He tried to think about other things. Like... like that little shop he’d stumbled across. Magnificent Magics. He hadn’t been in a witch’s shop in a couple decades, they had changed so much. Maybe... maybe he would be able to visit again some other time. Maybe he could finally have someone else to talk to.

[not-goldy]

Tumblr please bring back my update.

It was a long ass post too and Tumblr jx sweeped it under the rugs damn

So Re my gf's dialog of doom- FALSE ALARM😭😭😭

Sis jx wanted to know what I wanted to do on my birthday💀

But like why did she say it like that cos I peed pooped puked pivoted ALL THE BIG P's at the same time😭😭😭😭😭😭

Sis don traumatized me in this relationship 🤧

Anyone who knows what's been going on between us last year. weve been going through this process close to and near my birthday that ends with us breaking up- and then getting back together.

It's very simple, she missed my birthday last year ND the year before that. No post no greetings no calls nothing. So what did I do? Nothing. Didn't complain didnt ask questions. NOTHING.

And it hurt cos I used to do everything for her on her birthday to let her know I be feeling her like that- and honestly I just think it's nice to do nice things for people you care about and her birthday is jx an excuse for me to show her I care and give her experiences and moments ya know?

I don't know. May be it's my mistake I keep giving her the love I want for myself and I keep loving her in ways I never had.

Anywho, I had had enough of her analysis retentive attitude so close to her birthday, I got her all excited, called up her friends to let them know I was planning something for her. I even asked if they wanted to come cos I knew they would tell her either way. they a bunch of clowns really🤡

On her birthday, she cleared her schedule and seemed in a really good mood- I cleared my schedule too( we worked together then, she's my boss so she definitely knew I cleared my schedule that day)

Then on her birthday, I took myself out on a nice getaway staycation got me some nice lingerie pampered my back and toes, had those feet fetishized and love kissed by them cute weird freaky feet eating fishes with foot fetish, strolled through long halls naked under the robe with a glass of wine, and let my phone ring on silence.

Came back n acted like I'd been out with people and had the time of my life.

You can't stress me out and expect me not to love myself.

I'LL LOVE MYSELF ON YOUR BIRTHDAY😘

This year. I totally forgot she's a March born like I stopped caring bout her birthday n I wasn't even trying to be petty or nuin😭😭😭😭😭

I just don't care anymore 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

So when she said we needed to talk, turns out she just wanted to talk about that and call it truce cos she says she can't keep going through that year after year.

And frankly I can't either cos I be having my entire heart ripped out of my chest it be looking like a homicide inside my ribcage- but it doesn't stop me from returning the energy on her birthdays too cos I'M PETTY AS FUCK DUDE

I'm a Libra don't mess with me. I'll take the L, go through all the motions, feel that hurt and pain and betrayal and when I'm done- RUN

ILL GEAR UP AND SERVE YOU HOT STEAMING PILE OF LAVA BOILING REVENGE COOKED STRAIGHT FROM HELL'S COLD KITCHEN😌

She asked me what my plans are for my birthday and I honestly have nothing planned at all- I jx want to be quiet and alone and watch Netflix.

She's hurt cos she says I used to want to do things together with her on my birthday.

I don't know if I've changed like she says but frankly as much as I love her I don't enjoy being with her anymore.

I'd rather spend my birthday alone, do things alone- I love her want her- it's just I'm scared of another fight and yet again another break up and if us being distant is the only way we can have a semblance of a normal relationship then I'll take that.

And I'll rather have this than not have her at all.

Chilee I don't know anymore.

Also yall quit complaining bout me bringing my drama to your doorstep. Like yall have audacity hanging around my blog for free 99 and expecting relative peace and drama free services😹😹😹😹😹

Say it after me, We all in this together

Mi drama is su drama adios 😘😆

[nichoskittycorner]

See normally I get the early morning brainrot out early but Sub!K keeps coming back for me-

So yes another no proofread smut drabble about the yandere Sub!K ( So like, cw: smut and car sex)

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Imagine having to work several long consecutive days at work, pulling extra hours you dont expect and it leaves you exhausted.

You always come home sluggish and too tired to play with K. All you do it shower and go to bed for the next awful day. And quite frankly, he was getting sick of it.

He loved you and couldnt be away from you for too long- but your job is the one place he couldnt follow you into. So he had to wait.

Well because of this stupid job the most attention hes gotten the past week has been soft kisses and head pats. This wouldnt suffice. He was being the best boy he could and barely had your attention!

Not like he wasnt jerking himself multiple times a day at home- you had given him full permission to play with himself and cum when he wanted until this bloated work schedule would end.

But K didnt want to wait until this was done to feel you again. He missed the taste of your juices, your warm gummy walls that hugged his cock tightly and always had him melting- he missed your praise and lewd sounds of pleasure when he did something right.

He was starting to get antsy and desperate for you. So maybe it was short term thinking, but today he was sitting in your car, waiting for you to go on your lunch break.

Yes, your car that he wasnt in when you left for work and he didnt have the key to. He knew you were smart, grateful to have parked in the shade so he didnt need to roll the windows down.

And like an obedient puppy, he waited for you. He knew you came to the car and called him during your lunch break. Eventually, you came into view, getting in your car and groaning loudly in frustration once the door was shut.

They were lucky this job was paying you greatly or you wouldve left this place once this mess started. Without thinking, you reclined the seat back and got ready pull out your phone to call K- but screamed when you saw his large frame hovering over you.

"K?! What are you doing here?! How did you get in here!?"

"Surprise! I thought you could use a little pick me up at work!" He puffed his lip out like he always did when he wanted a kiss, which you gave but were still bewildered.

"O-oh alright then- what's this pick me up?" You raised an eyebrow before his hands started to roam your body, climbing into your lap and removing your bottoms slowly.

He lowered his lips to your ear and spoke lowly, his fingers finding your now bare cunt with ease. "I'm going to make Mommy feel so good. Can I Mommy? I'll be quick I promise."

"Okay puppy, you can. But you have 30 minutes."

He didn't need the 30 minutes. In no time he presses your legs back so they were against your chest, opening you up wide to him. Just from this position alone you were already eager.

He kissed you slowly before ditching his own bottoms and pressing his length into you, filling you out and making your eyes shut.

Like the good boy he was, he didnt delay in thrusting and grinding his hips, pulling out loud uncontrollable moans from your body.

You looked so good as he fucked into you, nuzzling his head into your neck and placing hot needy kisses on your skin.

"Ah-! Fuck K, just like that, keep fucking Mommy like that-" And he obeyed without question. His whimper of acknowledgement resounded as he kept going.

As your cries of pleasure echoed in the car, you realized just how long it had been since you last touched each other. Your heart ached for your puppy. And never once did he complain or start a fight because of it.

He just did all he could to make you feel great at home. Is that what you call love? A tear slipped from your eye, both from pleasure and the thought breaking your heart.

K noticed and kissed the stray tear away, burying himself deep into your soaking cunt. "Are you okay Mommy? Did I do something wrong?"

You shook your head no and took his face into your hands, kissing him deeply and ordering him to continue. "No puppy! I just love you so much it made me cry."

Having sex in your car wasnt where you ever planned to pronounce your love for him but here you were: Getting drilled by his cock in your front seat on your lunch break.

His whole world flipped upon hearing those words, and it only made him fuck you harder. K's brain reduced to only pleasuring you. Kissing, sucking and fucking his hips into you as you cried out his name and held his hand.

Clenching around his cock as the car shook with each movement. You were able to pull him into a tender kiss, sending you both over the edge and cumming.

Your seat now a mess of sweat and cum as you rode out your high. With your eyes shut, you held onto his and best you could. "Good boy K, fuck- good puppy."

His hips rocked slowly, subtly trying to push whatever cum spilled out back into your cunt. Your body trembled as he finally pulled out and got you cleaned up. Letting you relax before your break was up.

He pulled you into the backseat with him, holding you lovingly in his lap until your phone alarm went off.

"Damnit. That's my break. I'll see you back at home puppy, okay?" You sighed but kissed him all over his face, showering him in another round of praise before stepping out of the car.

He did whine a bit and try to hold on but you only giggled and handed him the keys. "Go home pup. Mommy is expecting round two when you pick me up later."

And like the good puppy he was, he obeyed- and made good on that promise.

[struungout]

Resin Rose Thoughts

As I mentioned the other day, I got Opinions about what I did experience of the convention. In my case, I was kind of a failure in regards to the socializing part of the con and primarily trolled through the vendor’s hall and shopped ‘til I dropped before me and my friend went off to goof off at Target and our hotel room (the one place I didn’t feel like a walking sweat puddle).

So yeah, I didn’t go to any of the panels because I was busy shopping and, frankly, none of them grabbed my interest. It was a lot of stuff for newbies to dolls or crafting, neither of which was applicable to me. xD There was a general meet-up scheduled, but by the time 6PM came around, I was at capacity for being around people and was completely drained due to walking around so much + the heat.

That said, I did have some thoughts about the vendor’s hall and the big swap. I will attempt to keep my usual blunt mean-ness to a minimal since I know a lot of people enjoy Resin Rose and had a good time this year. That said, if you don’t like to hear critical shit about things you like, what’s below the cut ain’t for you.

Registration

Registration/badge pick-up was a chaotic mess, to be frank. For one, what a choice to have check-in to the right of a vendor table at the entrance. Badge pick up and con merch should be front and center and the first thing you see when you walk in. Also, for the love of god, get those poor people a laptop or tablet + keyboard with a spreadsheet or something for checking names instead of those physical paper lists. Opening for general admittance is chaotic enough without adding extra steps that hold up the line and cause walkways to be blocked/clogged at the LONE ENTRANCE/EXIT*.

There also didn’t seem to be anybody checking for badges at the door or anything so it feels like there’s not a point to making 2-day and 1-day pre-registered pass holders to wait until Saturday to pick theirs up. Anybody with the audacity could just peruse the hall and buy shit without a pass. Considering how chaotic just purchasing from some vendors could be, checking if someone is wearing their pass would be the last thing on their mind lmao. Coloring coding passes would likely help close up that particular hole if you’re genuinely worried about not getting paid for someone to check the Vendor’s Hall out.

Back to the lists—they couldn’t even find my name (I was supposed to have had a helper badge through my friend Rae since she was vending at RR) and I had to pay for my badge. On top of that, I didn’t receive an envelope that I guess had raffle or scavenger hunt information in it? Didn’t even realize I was supposed to get that until my friend asked me about it ten minutes later. Not even mad about paying (planned to pre-register before Rae said she’d take care of it), but the chaotic mess was a really rough beginning to my visit. Mayhaps just have everything in an envelope and organized by badge-type.

*Yes, there really was just the one place to come and go to this room because the door to the pool area of the hotel was blocked off by vendor tables (how is that not a fire hazard lmao). Also…Monarch Hotel, why the fuck would you give a room this big a single door entrance? That fucker needed double doors and you know it.

Vendor’s Hall

The general layout seems pretty run of the mill for conventions from what I’ve seen online, but there just wasn’t good space between tables. People were wearing big backpacks to display their dolls in, plus got swag bags they’re carrying, and then stopping to check out what’s for sale. Shit clogs up quick, especially when there’s a popular vendor. Saw one poor woman with a walker nearly take out the wheel thing the raffle tickets were in because something hanging on her walker handle caught onto the wheel’s door, and that was at the entrance area of the hall. If two people in wheelchairs can’t comfortably pass each other, there isn’t enough room.

The outer ring of tables were basically a dead zone, even with the chaos of the hall opening to 2 and 1-day pass holders. Most everyone buying stuff were concentrated in the middle and alleyway type tables because that’s where the well-known sellers were. It’s already a hard time being a vendor that may not have a huge and viral social media presence where they can hype people up for a convention appearance, but it’s all the worse when you’re out in the boonies. Plus I feel like the eyes just don’t get drawn towards the outer corners of these kind of set ups—there were several tables I completely glazed over the first time because they got huddled away into some dark corner.

Speaking of the outer ring, in one corner, they were right there with the air vents and were keeping nice and cool, and in the exact opposite corner diagonal from them, the people were fucking slow roasting next to the windows. I didn’t see any sort of box fans or anything set up for them to help keep them cool, just papers and handheld fans they either got from the freebie table or brought along themselves (or purchased from someone else). That really isn’t acceptable and I feel it’s on the convention and hotel staff for not looking out for them. That’s such an easy way to give someone heat exhaustion or heat stroke. The gift shop I work at temporarily got moved to what was essentially a shoe box with no real heating or cooling and we had one of the hottest summers at the time and just one hour during peak heat in that hot box was fucking horrid. I would have refused to come to work if my boss and her assistant hadn’t gotten me a box fan to keep my work area cool. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Portland was getting hot weather; there should have been contingencies in place to keep people safe and comfortable.

Generally, there just shouldn’t have been vendors set up by the windows, particularly ones that’d get a lot of sunlight. Instead, you should just cluster the contest tables (preferably with backdrops that could block the sunlight so the dolls don’t get potentially damaged), raffle jars, freebie tables, and sitting areas for that space. Basically stuff that isn’t going to draw consistent crowds (people generally drop by the once and then off to shop).

For the raffle stuff, that all should have just been photographed and put on like…a big poster board or a QR code to a dedicated web page to show the prizes and just have the prizes themselves stored away somewhere safe until they’re actually getting handed out (think that was primarily at the closing ceremony?). Then you got several tables freed up for vendors.

Overall though, enjoyed shopping and seeing all the stuff. Just felt very awkward to attempt to stop and chat with other people about their wares or dolls in general and whatnot. Managed to spend 3+ hours in there on Saturday, so my hermit and socially awkward ass managed to survive well enough. Only left because my stomach demanded food. xD

Got to see Rae, take a picture of my dolls with Shrimp, and spent over $500. 8/10

The Swap

So bad it was embarrassing.

The space between tables was hellishly tight, there was absolutely no direction in traffic flow, which just made things worse. There was also one person I remember with two luggage bags ON THE FLOOR IN FRONT OF THEIR TABLE alongside all the shit they had actually on the table. I don’t know who the fuck told them THAT was okay, but they clearly don’t know what a fucking tripping hazard is.

There really should have been HALF the amount of tables in that room than there was. If you’re gonna have that many people with swap tables in a room that small, then you need to make it an all day event and cycle people through. I managed to put up with one walk around the room to see if there were any dolls that were on my wishlist, bought a pair of boots, and then got the fuck out of there.

Couldn’t get out fast enough, 0/10.

Other Thunkin’

Didn’t go to the closing ceremony since by the time me and my friend got back to the hotel from our day trip to the Clackamas Town Center, we were hungry and exhausted and there just wasn’t enough time to have the nice dinner we planned and then go to the ceremony, so we just did our dinner, made a trip to a convenience store + Target and went back to our room. Heard it was crowded and warm tho, so I’m not too broken up about enjoying a steak and drinks instead. xD

Overall, I don’t regret going, but it was definitely uhh…underwhelming, I suppose? Maybe if I wasn’t sweating my tits off because the hotel’s air circulation sucks and I was actively talkative on the likes of Instagram and the RR channel on the BJD Discord server, it’d have been easier to meet up with people I’m actually acquainted with to chit chat and all that shit. It was really nice to get to see Rae in person for the few minutes we got, but she was busy keeping an eye on her table and I was busy shopping and oogling stuff, so we didn’t get to hang as much as I would have liked.

I’m not likely to go to another doll convention anytime soon since just the flight down south is expensive on top of saving my money all year to make sure I had plenty to splurge on what I wanted and still have some in case of any emergencies. Put off a lot of doll plans this year for Resin Rose, and while that was fine this time around since I had my attention on other hobbies, I can’t do that on a yearly basis haha (and if I’m gonna be leaving my small ass town, I’m GONNA be buying shit).

[sabakos]

Hm, on one hand your post irritates me because I did pretty poorly in my STEM degree but unequivocally Learned Things, but on the other hand I would have definitely Learned More Things if I didn't have to come up with thousands of dollars every year for tuition and transportation. Don't you think failing everyone who gets a C- or less is a bit extreme?

This might have been specific to my experience or to physics rather than all of STEM, but the people who were getting a C- weren't getting a 70% on all of their exams, everything in upper level classes was necessarily graded on a curve. Which is the correct way to do it imo, it's hard to design an exam so that people who "know" the material all score exactly in the 70-100% range on the exam. Usually this is accomplished by erring on the side of challenging the students more rather than less, where 50% or so of the material on the exam is something you expect anyone would know, and the remainder is more challenging and requires an actual synthesis and understanding of the material, and often this gets you a nice distribution. But sometimes the professor messes up and they need to salvage an exam that was accidentally too challenging, where the class average was in the 60s. I even had an E&M exam that was so hard the professor refused to tell us anything beyond "none of you got a passing grade so I'm not counting it." So despite the appearance of numerical data, evaluation is a lot less of an exact science than one might expect!

But to illustrate the point, we had the opposite problem happen once with a newer professor, he accidentally screwed up and made the (take home!) midterm so easy in senior-level Intro to Quantum Mechanics that the median score was 100. This was, admittedly, complicated by the fact that due to our program's research specialties in AMO meant that at least a handful of us already knew everything there was to learn in that class before we took it. But despite this median score, which was achieved by more than just the kids who already knew the material, the lower mode of people still scored poorly! So there wasn't really much to do other than make the final nigh-impossible, which meant that all of those C and D kids failed to graduate on time anyway and had to "retake" quantum the next year when the curve would be more forgiving. I'm skeptical from having talked to and worked with many of them that they actually learned anything beyond intro physics.

However, I am probably being somewhat unfair in ways I don't realize due to, quite frankly, immense privilege. I came into college with two years worth of credit from AP exams and still took a full courseload and graduated in four, not only summa cum laude, but #2 in my class, despite basically taking no freshman and barely any sophomore-level classes to pad my GPA with. I thrived on the stress and conflict of test-taking and laughed (while still crying) about take-home exams that could and did take an entire weekend. I took the Putnam exam "for fun" my sophomore year and got a 10, beating all the math majors who took it that year. I was an obnoxious asshole about all of this, which I should probably regret more than I do. But by all accounts this means I'm the entirely wrong person to know what causes people to struggle with exams even if they do know the material. Throw sharp and heavy things at me, I probably deserve it.

But despite all that... I still feel that I didn't learn all of the physics as well as I probably should have? Many of those curves were strongly weighted in my favor because I happened to be the first or second highest score, which meant I got basically the same final grade in a class whether I slacked off a bit or not. And yeah, I think part of it is that Physics is really hard, and a four-year undergrad program with rigidly scheduled exams is not going to be remotely accessible or accommodating to anyone with a severe disability or extenuating life circumstances.

But when it's the same kids every semester who are barely passing, I think that at some point you have to say that even if the system *is* fundamentally broken and unfair, it's both of those things in a way where the people it's failed really haven't learned anything and so shouldn't receive a degree saying they have? Possibly they often don't even know what they don't know? I think that most physics classes form roughly discrete packets of curriculum, but as someone who has written and scored exams, I don't think 70% on an exam doesn't imply that even close to 70% of the knowledge was mastered. I'm not sure that any exam I took was ever that comprehensive, and I don't think that "learned some things" rather than nothing is really enough to cut it.

[bokujou-monogatari]

do you mind explaining why you like island of happiness over sunshine islands and tree of tranq. over animal parade?

Disclaimer 1: this is not my full answer because I want to provide more than just my ramblings and have actual tangible evidence to my reasonings. Which, I do have, but my schedule has been very limited recently and I just haven't gotten around to digging things up.

Alright, it's about time I answered this, just because it's been sitting here in my inbox and I don't want to keep you waiting too long.

Disclaimer 2: I don't know what the hell happened in 2007 to 2010, but something tells me there was a Too Many Cooks situation in the dev/production line; may have been what contributed to the creative differences and why Wada was ushered to leave after the AQL Merger. But again, this is one thing I -don't- have the specific insight to.

Disclaimer 3: long post, I'm sorry 😭

Tree of Tranquility was created 2004 (preproduction) to 2005-2006 (production, commitment, release candidate) and released in 2007. The person spearheading direction was Yoshifumi Hashimoto, the acting director for many games after he was brought to the team when Victor merged with Marvelous in 2003. He was purely Marvelous staff at the time, and was not part of the initial team that came with Victor/Toy Box. He was given the role for Tree of Tranquility in order to innovate gameplay on the latest Nintendo system - the Nintendo Wii. He had support in the way of Yasuhiro Wada and Hikaru Nakano. To a degree, Nakano was more closely involved than Wada, who at the time, was more oversight than development.

Hashimoto wanted to use the success of A Wonderful Life to make a more intuitive, iterative title that followed similar successful principles while in a whole new setting. Thus, Tree of Tranquility did its best to be its own thing while still trying to be a knock on of the preceding console game.

In this article I translated years ago (which frankly needs an update, but the general information is There), Wada was interviewed for the release of Animal Parade; he stated that when he finally took a look at the final product, Tree of Tranquility did not capture the feeling of being a true successor to A Wonderful Life, and that he was largely unhappy with how things turned out. As such, he ordered the team to create a turnaround version of the title which stripped characters down to bare stereotypes, rewrote original relationships and changed them, and changed functionality of gameplay systems - all within a 9 month period from the release of Tree of Tranquility to Animal Parade.

As to why I like Tree of Tranquility so much:

I am just not a fan of the antiquated rural ideals and stereotypes Wada mixes very well in all of his games.

He added those into Animal Parade, and also just pretty much turned Tree of Tranquility into a depressing hot mess with plotholes.

I had already been so used to the (then) complexity of the character narrative in Tree of Tranquility that coming to Animal Parade felt like the characters had been body snatched. I have a whole dissertation on my blog about the character narrative of Maya, and I could write about every single character of the game and the ways they stand out in ToT compared to AP. Between the two, for what the story was supposed to be, it also felt less impactful when playing Animal Parade, than when you literally got told how much of a difference you were making throughout the story of Tree of Tranquility.

(Of course, this isn't to say Tree of Tranquility doesn't have its own problems, it does! But you can't escape narrative bias in any media - it takes critical analysis.)

I think Animal Parade holds its own as a game, and I can see why so many people enjoy it. However, narrative wise I will always choose Tree of Tranquility.

Island of Happiness is also the same in this regard. Hikaru Nakano was not satisfied and felt that the game could be iterated on further, and thus Sunshine Islands was created. For me, Island of Happiness felt more tight knit but also diverse- what with the single community island, branching heart events instead of linear ones, and overall feel. I just couldn't attach myself to Sunshine Islands despite the fact it was supposed to have "enhanced" the story presented in that generation.

Feel free to hit me up about this more, I love talking about this topic specifically :)

[bluejay-writes]

Mystictober 2023: Day 12 - This sounds like a Job for AI

You can read/collect this fic on Ao3 if that’s more your speed!

Rating: E for everyone.

Prompt: Robot / Text Message

Characters: 707, Vanderwood, MC (Anna)

Wordcount: 1993

Summary: Wait, did you really expect her to just stay in the apartment under these obviously sketchy conditions? No thanks. Let's just make a chat bot to talk to the RFA and then GTFO.

Author's Notes: This was written for Mystictober 2023, Day 12. I've been intending to be writing for the whole month, but a lot of the prompts just aren't doing anything for my muse, so if you have any requests, hit up that ask box. (The full prompt list is at the bottom of this post!) Also, the diner and the waitress therein are an homage to one of the best MC/707 fics out there, "The Number Next Door" by LumiOlivier.

Alright, now I just need to make sure I’ve got the settings correct so that it only joins chat rooms during the sleep schedule precedent I set for the first two days, and then I think everything’s set…

Anna winced as another chatroom opening notification pinged in.  Well, it wouldn’t hurt to set the thing up and test it out before she made her way out of the apartment and back to some semblance of a normal life.  If everything went well, she’d be out of the apartment for good within the hour. Making sure the phone was plugged into its charger, she set it next to her, kicked on the Chat AI bot that she’d just finished, and watched as it entered the chat just like she taught it to.

Anna couldn’t help but preen like a proud mother as she watched it interact.

[Anna has entered the chat] Yoosung★: Hey, it’s Anna! Jaehee Kang: Welcome, yo Jaehee Kang: I mean, welcome. Yoosung★: typo lolololol Jumin Han: Her fingers must have slipped. Jaehee Kang: …;

Anna watched as her bot flawlessly chatted with Jumin, Jaehee, and Yoosung about their lunches, and food in general. She smirked at the commentary about rich people, and Seven’s maid.  Anna was certain that Seven neither had an actual maid, nor was the person in question named Mary Vanderwood 3rd.  It was probably his handler for whatever super-secret work he did.  Not that Anna was one to judge, she did plenty of hacking on her own.  

She’d made one major mistake, however. Her cover identity this time around was too perfect. It had fooled Unknown into thinking she was just the kind of nonentity that he needed for whatever mess he was trying to get her into with the RFA, and it was clean enough that even hacker 707 thought she was who she said she was.  It would be a bit sad to shed Anna less than a year after slipping into her skin, but that was the price of going undetected in this line of work. Apparently, her impressions of 707 had led her bot to trust him, which amused her. He was probably the most trustworthy among them, but because of that the least likely to speak the truth.  

As the conversation started to wind down, Anna unplugged her power cable and got everything ready for her departure from the apartment.  Surely they would just assume she was still here if the phone was still here and talking to them.  She knew there was a camera in the hallway, so if she left the apartment after this chatroom closed, they’d think she was off to get groceries or something, and Seven would just assume he’d missed her come back when she started talking again.

Yoosung went back to class after his lunch hour (which was frankly a miracle given his gaming habits), whereas Jumin and Jaehee had a meeting.  They all logged out, and Anna paused the bot before it, too, left the chat.

Anna: This is going to sound weird, but Anna: Thank you all so much for being so welcoming. Anna: I know you didn’t have to, and it means a lot. [Anna has left the chatroom]

Anna kicked the bot back in, checked that she had everything she came with, and turned off the light on her way out the door.  She felt bad for leaving them without more than a cryptic thank you, but if she said anything else they’d start to question the bot.

Next stop, lunch.

The sights, sounds, and smells of her favorite little diner wrapped Anna up like a warm hug. She sipped on the blueberry honey shake in front of her as the waitress took away the dirty plates from her lunch. Laptop in front of her, she tapped away, looking for just the right area to disappear to next. Seoul had seemed like a great idea, but then she’d found that lost phone and decided to be a Good Samaritan and return it to its owner, and, well, the whole mess with the apartment.

She lost herself for a moment, looking at youth hostels in Morocco, when someone suddenly slid into the booth across from her. Gut instinct told her to cut and run - but before she could even shift, someone else settled between her and the edge of the booth.

Anna sighed, and looked up at the ginger sitting in front of her.

“Good afternoon. What can I do for you…” She glanced at the stern brunette next to her. “Gentlemen?”

“Come on, Anna. You’re smart enough to recognize me from my pictures!” The man across from her said, brightly. “Don’t play dumb, please.”

Another sigh, and Anna shrugged. “Hi, Seven.”

Seven, for it truly was the hacker from the RFA, grinned and waved down the waitress. “Florence, can I get a short stack and a strawberry shake?”

The older woman smiled. “Sure thing, Lucy. Anything for your shadow?” She eyed the man next to Anna, who shrugged. “And a black coffee.  You need a refresh on that shake, dear? Not often I get an excuse to play with honey.”

Anna looked at Seven, and then back at the waitress. “Sure, why not. May as well ruin the rest of my day with a sugar high.”

“Works for this boy often enough, not that I usually see him before Midnight.” 

Anna sighed, and closed her laptop. “So, what can I do for you while we wait for the sugar rush of the century?”

Seven smirked. “Care to explain how you’re having a conversation with Yoosung about the pros and cons of LOLOL character builds while you sit here considering youth hostels in Africa?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Anna said, shrugging. “Well, about LOLOL. Never played it. I was definitely looking at Hostels.”

Seven tapped his phone a few times and pointed it at her, where ‘Anna’ and ‘Yoosung★’ were definitely having that conversation.

“How did you install a chatbot in my messenger?  Why did you install a chatbot in my messenger? You’re an American, an English Literature major college dropout, how do you even know what a chatbot is?”

“First, rude. Liberal Arts majors know a lot of things and don’t get enough credit.” Then, she shrugged. “The fact that you believe that I’m American, or dropped out of college even, implies that you’re not as good of a hacker as you claim to be.”

There was a pause, and the shadow next to her shifted in a way that implied he was reaching for a concealed weapon.

“Stow it, black coffee.” Anna said, rolling her eyes. “I’m hardly a physical threat, and you have me dead to rights before I could even try and get out of this booth, there’s no need to scare randos at a diner.”

“Vanderwood.” He grunted, relaxing a degree or two, and she nodded. 

“Sorry. Vanderwood.”

Seven looked between them, and then back at his phone, and deflated into a depressed looking puddle just as Florence arrived with their food.

“Trouble in paradise, you two? And here I thought my firecracker of a regular was finally going to go on vacation with a cute girl. You better apologize, mister, she’s a keeper.” Florence said, waggling a finger before walking away.

“Shit.” Seven rolled his eyes. “I’m even the villain to Florence now.”

“Sorry, Seven. No romantic vacations for you. At least not with me.”

“Aw, am I not cute enough?”

“You’re adorable. And I’m a lesbian. Next question?”

“What’s your name?” Seven asked, bluntly.

Next to her, Vanderwood made the strangest sound, like he was trying desperately not to laugh. When Seven gave him a look, he quietly said “She could tell you, but she’d have to kill you.”

Anna chuckled, and Seven just shook his head. Spy Dad Jokes.

“Okay, how about ‘what do you want to be called’ then?  We all know Seven’s not my real name, so like, I’m not one to actually complain.”

“Anna’s fine. I haven’t gotten to be Anna long enough.”

“So, obviously you’re a hacker type.” Seven said. “And better than me at. identity. shenanigans.” he clarified. “Why did you leave the apartment? Why a chat bot? I want to understand. I want to keep my friends safe.”

“You try being led to a random apartment by someone who was drawn in by an identity that no one would miss if she disappeared, and then get taken in like family by the people you were led to. Now, be told that you shouldn’t leave the apartment you’re in, that there are cameras but not where. Then be told not only by the group in which you’ve been planted but also by the creeper that put you there that you have to convince people to come to a charity party and that everyone’s happiness relies on you doing a job you only agreed to so you wouldn’t get arrested for trying to do a good deed. I am not sad to be burning this persona to the ground this fast, I just started being Anna and I like who she is. I’m a fan of not caring what two milkshakes in a day and no gym time is doing to my hips. But I’m glad. Because it means that it’s me who was in that situation. Me, who was equipped to get herself out without hurting herself or others. Well, barring some feelings. I’m sure Yoosung will never forgive me and I set the bot to be nice to Jaehee and flirt hardcore with Zen, so… yeah. Feelings probably hurt, but. No innocent lives were entirely ruined, and I’ll figure out what to do about buying new jeans wherever Anna 2.0 ends up next.”

“Well. Someone certainly taught you how to monologue.”

“Video games.”

“I thought you didn’t play LOLOL.”

“I don’t. There are other games, you know.”

Seven sighed. “Okay. Say I understand. What about the shady guy? Isn’t he going to just get someone else?”

“Yeah, probably, but I mean you were looking for him and he won’t notice I’m gone for awhile, and he’ll be so confused by the chat bot he’ll slip and you’ll catch him.”

Seven grumbled. “I was fooled by the chat bot until I realized you weren’t in the apartment.”

“See, cameras.”

“But why a chat bot, Anna? Why give in to sleazy corporate AI shenanigans? Stolen training media!! My heart hurts.”

“I stole the chat bot. She’s ripped. And she’s trained only my own shitty fanfic, so she sounds as much like me as possible.”

Seven just blinked at her. “You write fanfic?! No no no wait that is not the takeaway here.”

Vanderwood cleared his throat as Florence arrived to clear the table and quietly return Vanderwood’s credit card.

“Right. Uh. One last question, Anna, and then I’ll get out of your hair.” Seven was wringing his hands, and Anna wasn’t sure how she felt about whatever this question was going to be.

“Would you consider… working with me?  Maybe this hacker situation as a trial and you can see if you like the working conditions?”

Anna eyed Vanderwood. “This your handler?” A grunt from Mr. Black Coffee Vanderwood himself gave the answer. “That make him my handler?”

“Depends.” Vanderwood spoke for himself. “How do you feel about dishes?”

“I prefer a dishwasher but as long as you don’t make me wear the horrendous yellow plastic gloves I’m game?”

“Yeah. I think I can handle you.” Vanderwood nodded.

Anna smirked, but didn’t take the easy bait.

“Alright. Let’s go catch us a creepy cult boy and his Eternal Paradise or whatever. Then I’m going to Morocco.”

“Need a +1?” Seven said, smirking as they left the diner.

“Yep. I’m going to seduce Jaehee.”

The sound Seven made in response sounded almost like someone put a rubber chicken in a blender. In that moment, Anna was glad she decided to stay.

[mrs-allsunday]

Thank you 2023

I finally found the time to write! I wanted to spend a solid 20mins here but I already spent the last 5mins cleaning up my spilled berocca.

I'm also eating pringles now - oh life's sweet poison.

I spent the day rewatching one piece while looking after Yanah. I mean it in a sense that I'm letting her lead the play, I honestly don't think it's how they portray it on reels like an "absent" parent.

There are moments that we play, and times that I let her be.

I guess no right or wrong thing when it comes to parenting, eh?

We can really just see years and years from now with the hopes that she turns out a socially responsible person I aspire her to be.

But that's not for me to decide, right?

Right?

Well anyway, it's been 7 years since I last celebrated new year in the Philippines.

I've really gotten used to it already - no grand welcome, no fireworks, no "buffet". lol

Mostly, I'm already in bed when the clock strikes to 12.

Nevertheless, it has been peaceful the past years. No Christmas gathering of sorts - only the times at my old flat and my first year here with my neighbour from the Philippines.

Frankly, I cannot remember how we welcome the new year last year. lol

For now, I'll write about how we spent this new year's weekend!

Yanah finally received her first dose of Hep A vaccine! We intended to schedule her for one last November but we had to postpone it because things got busy plus me and Adi got COVID.

Then we all went back home to rest. Though I cannot really do that because our house was a mess. So I spent the day decluttering, folding clothes and cleaning! Adi did his fair share of tasks, and the day ended fine with me binge eating doritos while rewatching one piece!

NYE, we went out to Orchard to shop for Adi's stuff and look for a paper cutter for my project planner.

Having Yanah around, we're forced to become morning people and go to the mall on its opening hours lol

Yanah fell asleep after lunch so we had some peace and quiet while window shopping!

Before heading back home, we stopped by at Canberra Plaza to buy dinner and some groceries. Then, we walked back instead of taking bus.

Yanah stayed on her pram the whole time so that's really good. She kept on saying "it's cold, it's cold" though lol

So night came, and we put yanah to sleep after our usual night routine - eat, shower, play, sleep!

Adi and I then worked on my planner and finally printed it after so many hiccups 🤣

I'm really blessed with a crafter husband and he actually did the bulk of the work!

Adi went to sleep earlier than me and I continued cleaning up.

I sent some NYE greetings before going to sleep around 11+.

Adi and I woke up around 1am because Yanah had a night terror again and he greeted me a happy new year ❤️

With that, we're off to welcome Year 2024!

[jarofstyles]

For mafia harry, I just love the fact that’s he’s only soft for his girl. So something soft!!!! Plss n thxx

He’s literally so soft for her it’s ridiculous.

Warnings: fluff, talk of murder, mafia type stuff

Check out our Patreon!

—-

It wasn’t uncommon for Harry to come home with bruised knuckles. While he tended to have his men take care of business, he couldn’t help but be hands on sometimes.

When it came to certain motherfuckers, he truly couldn’t help but get in on the action and keep his name at the top of the’ who not to mess with’ list.

But his one and true weakness was sleepy eyed and soft as she stepped into his arms. He had gotten home from some business only an hour ago and put on the coffee pot. Being out all night was not ideal in the slightest, mainly because he had Y/N at home. Before meeting her he could go days at a time without sleep, without even being home. But having a woman he loved so deeply in his bed, who truly adored him and looked past his very unusual career path. She was so giving to him, with her time, energy, body, affection. He had hit the jackpot when it came to women and he knew all to well. So did anyone else.

It took a lot to get a man like Harry soft. He was hard and jagged around the edges. Throwing a punch or getting rid of someone wasn’t a big deal to him. Then Y/N stumbled into his life by accident and he found the heart he had covered with ice melted into a puddle of mush that she hand shaped in her own form. It was comical at times to see his attitude change when she would walk into the room.

“H?” She whispered sleepily. She shouldn’t be awake, but her body had somehow known her hero was home. While Y/N was well aware of his faults and his dangerous job and tendencies? He fiercely protected and cared for her. Provided for her. Gave her a home and a best friend and loved wrapped into one. No one was perfect, but Harry was perfect for her. “Where were you all night?” His stomach twinged with guilt as he pulled her into his chest, large hand cupping the back of her head and keeping her body close to his.

“M’so sorry, angel.” He whispered, pressing multiple kisses to her hairline. “We found one of the rats.” He grumbled, making Y/N freeze. Her head pulled up from his chest and her eyes were a dangerous glint. One that, quite frankly? Made him hard. As soft and gentle as Y/N is, she had come to take Harry and his men as family. You fuck with them? You fuck with her.

“And you took care of it?” Her tone was low, Harry still shocked at how fierce his little angel could be. How protective. She made them cookies and tea and brought sweets to the underground clubs, but was willing to put someone on their ass if they hurt Harry. It was fucking hot.

“Y’know I did, sweet girl. M’always taking care of my people.” He was cut off by her lips pressing to his jaw, her head tucking back into his neck. It was early and she hadn’t slept well. Y/N usually didn’t when it came to Harry being out and doing dangerous things. Her sleep schedule had been the worst it’s been since dating him, but it was the easiest sacrifice to make because she was getting to be in his arms. When he was home?

She got the best sleep of her entire life. Especially after getting dicked down.

“Know you do.” She relaxed, hand running over his broad back. The shirt was slightly damp form his sweat but she didn’t mind. The skin under was hot and it did get her mind going to think about how sexy he looked when he was mad. As long as it wasn’t at her? It went straight to her cunt.

Okay. Maybe even when it was at her. But it was very hard to make him angry at her. He was 100% a pushover for his girl. Y/N was the only one ever allowed to raise her voice at him.

~

The first time it had happened around others, they’d all nearly choked. Harry had ate the last of the cookie butter, which Y/N had been saving. It actually pissed her the fuck off, and not realizing he was in a meeting she had stormed down the hallway with her volume on 10. The girl wasn’t one too raise her voice often, but Harry knew how to push her buttons.

“Harry fucking Styles! You better hope to god you’re busy because I’m going to shove this jar up your ass!” She seethed, the stomping of her feet making everyone’s eyes widen. The men he worked closely with usually had a softer version of her. But it was earlier in the day, not their normal time, and gathered in the office in Harry’s large home.

Harry froze, realizing what it was and winced as he watched the door fly open. There, in all her big shirt, no pants and freshly woken glory was his beautiful Y/N. Empty jar in hand. Her eyes cut around the room but the fury she felt was too deep. This was personal!

Of course, they all were tense because No One talks to Harry Styles in a tone like that and got away with it. The shock that crossed their faces when Harry sheepishly got up and crossed the room, hushing her and trying to approach her like a wounded puppy was pure and utter insanity. The big man who always had a straight face, mean punches that knocked out cold, little regard for most people and took care of many a week was letting his woman talk to him like that.

“M’sorry, baby, I meant to get more but we called an emergency-“ he was cut off by a single hand raising, lips snapping closed as he watched his little love step closer to him.

“If you aren’t ready to go to Trader Joe’s in the next 15 minutes….” Her eyes narrowed. “You’ll be cut off.” And Harry knew exactly what that meant.

No sex.

There was no way he was risking that.

“Okay, okay.” He raised his own hands in surrender. “M’gonna finish up. Go get ready, we’ll take the Audi.”

They all learned that day that you didn’t mess with Y/N’s food, and Harry Styles only had one singular weakness.

~

Granted, Harry never was ashamed of it. He always said that his woman was half of his strength. She didn’t need him, but he needed her. Harry loved her so wholly and deeply that he knew that she was it for him. He had bought an engagement ring only 2 months in. So no, he didn’t ever deny it.

If anyone ever tried to use Y/N against him, they ended up in the river. Or in several pieces. He had very little restraint over that, considering all threats he took very, very seriously. The one light in his life was something he kept close, protected, and loved.

“Why don’t we go shower n’then we sleep? Hm? M’sorry to keep you up late, angel.” He puckered his lips down at her to be met with a soft peck, nodding her head at the idea. “And then we can make some ‘brunch’, whatever you call it.”

It got a laugh out of her, so he considered it a win.

“Mhm. If you thought I was letting you into our clean sheets smelling like guns and sweat. It’s sexy for dirty sheets but I’m simply too tired. Got the new ones I got online too.” She sighed, playfully teasing him because she knew it would get him to smile. He saw horrors every day, and if she could get some silliness in him it would lessen his stress.

“Oi. Don’t be callin’ me smelly, little girl.” He pinched her cheek, obnoxious kissing her mouth. “Better get your ass up there and get naked so we can pass out. M’Gonna need those pretty hands helping me wash, I fear… I’m a dead man walking.” He was dramatic, obviously overtired and it got a giggle from her.

“In your dreams, Mafia Man. Let’s move.”

“You’re right, I do dream about that.”