#have i been saving this in my drafts for six months

[bittersuitekim]

Listen before I go - Billie Eilish

tw: suicide (mentions of it)

a/n: this was in my drafts for a couple months but I finally got to finish it. I’m finally back and sorry for not posting anything. I’ve just being busy with things going in my life and taking a break off social media. Please know you’re not alone and ask for help. My DMs are always open to anyone. love you all 💕

⸻

The city hums below like nothing’s wrong. Like the world hasn’t cracked beneath your feet. Like your heart hasn’t been bleeding out for months but years in silence since you were a teen. You didn’t think the depression and the suicidal thoughts were gonna come back, even though you got better with therapy and trying new things. Especially when you met your girlfriend, Billie. But you were wrong.

It came back.

It was eating you alive each time you got thoughts of harming yourself and becoming more insecure about yourself and if you were enough in many ways for Billie.

Then it got to you badly, even if Billie tried to comfort you and help you in many ways because she knew the feeling and everything because she was once in your position before.

.

.

You sat on the edge of the roof of a random building with your legs swinging, the cold biting through Billie’s hoodie, the one that still smells like her. You didn’t tell anyone you were coming here. You didn’t want to explain it. Not again. Not tonight.

Her voice echoes in your memory, soft and sleepy, saying against your neck, “I love you, okay? Don’t disappear on me.”

But you already had.

Your phone is heavy in your pocket. Six voicemails. You press it to your ear even though you already know what they say.

Her voice. Your Billie.

“Baby, please call me. I’m freaking out.”

Click.

“I don’t care if you’re mad or if you think I won’t understand. I will. Just… come home. Or tell me where you are.”

Click.

“Don’t do this. Please don’t do this. I don’t know how to breathe without you.”

Click.

You press your lips together, trying not to cry. But it physically hurts to hear her breaking through the speaker. Like it was your fault for making her cry.

“I should’ve noticed sooner. I should’ve said something. I should’ve held you tighter when you started slipping away, even if you kept telling me everything was fine even though I knew it wasn’t. I should’ve been there for more than I already was, baby.”

Click.

“Listen before you go,” she says in the last one. Her voice is raw, desperate. “If you’re still there. Just… don’t leave me like this, baby. Please, I’ll come get you. I don’t care what time it is. Just tell me where.”

Your throat closes.

You look down. The city lights blur through your tears. You want to say something. You want to tell her you love her, that it was never her fault, that she’s the only reason you made it this far.

But you’re so tired.

Tired of being the weight in every room. The burden. The girl who couldn’t keep it together even when she had someone like Billie loving her with every ounce of her soul. You were lucky enough to have someone like Billie but you felt in some ways that you truly didn’t deserve her.

You pull out a folded piece of paper. You’d written it last week. Crossed out parts. Rewritten others. It still doesn’t say everything. But it’s all you could manage to write.

My Billie,

You were the light in my world. The only one who ever made the dark feel warm. You’re everything to me and I’m so lucky to have someone like you even when I felt like I didn’t deserve someone like you.

I’m sorry for the nights I pretended to be okay. I’m sorry for holding you when I was the one falling apart. I thought I could fix it, fix me, before it was too late.

But I’m so tired.

This isn’t your fault. It was never your job to save me.

I just wanted to be someone you could love without worrying they’d vanish.

Please don’t hate me. Please keep singing and with your career. Please live like I couldn’t. I’ll always look after you even if you can’t see me.

You made me feel loved. Even when I didn’t deserve it.

I love you.

Always & Forever,

your girlfriend y/n

Your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s a message. A new one.

Billie 💕:

I’m downstairs. Don’t you dare let go.

You freeze.

Your breath catches in your throat. You look down, and somehow impossibly there she is. In her hoodie and slippers, hair messy, face soaked in tears.

She’s looking straight up at you. Screaming your name.

And for the first time in weeks, you feel something in your chest that isn’t emptiness.

Maybe it’s not over yet.

Maybe there’s a true reason to stay and it would be.

Her. Your Billie.

Taglist: @allyeilishh @sayitspititout

Comment or ask if you wanted to be added on the taglist!!

[cuz-reasons]

Summary: After getting badly injured, Ingo isn't sure where he keeps waking up. But there is always someone he doesn't recognize, but knows he loves with him. Emmet is equal parts happy and stressed over Ingo's return home.

I'm finally getting this up before I forget again

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 27

To the 🔱 anon I SAW YOUR ASK I'M WORKING ON IT I PROMISEEEE (I like the idea very much, thank you for putting it into my head)

My mother(and family doctor) has decided she wants to make me go see multiple doctors for various reasons- so that's why I've been late, and will be late for a bit. Nothing life-threatening, but it's been a lot of testing and running from here to there and I'll cry if I have to take another blood test🥹 Ch 28 may get another draft before it gets published, it's quite short but we'll see ig 🫠

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 27 >>next

“The Jokerized Fries are the only good thing that came from the fu- ugh…” Your eyes met Oliver’s doe orbs. “… clown…” Jason snorted, kicking your shin under the table. “Nice save.” You just kicked his shin right back, which started an under-the-table fight. “Kids, please stop it.” Nolan grumbled as he fed the toddler.

The man was stuck at the kiddie table with you, Jason, and Mark. Nolan would say it’s because he wanted to give Debbie and April a break from Oliver, but really, he was excommunicated as soon as the Sirens showed up. “Take care of your kids, actually take care of them.” Were Ivy’s words before Harley and Selina nudged Debbie and April to the closest table.

“Why was he given so many chances anyway? Why not lock him and throw away the key?” Jason’s muscles tensed at Mark’s question- the clown was still a sensitive subject. Your eyes met Jason’s before you turned to your other brother. “I wish it were that simple. But the prison gets a breakout at least once a month, no matter how much the security raises, it's really out of anybody's hands. Batman was there when The Joker, well, became The Joker. Bats thought he was the original Red Hood, so when the clown was cornered against a railing, it broke and he fell into a vat of chemical solutions.”

Jason continued where you left off. “B has been feeling guilty about it since. He won’t say so, but the way he just let the clown get away with shit when he’d otherwise be more strict had guilt written all over it.” The crime lord huffed. “Batman likes to think he’s logical. That he’s a good detective because he doesn’t let emotions sway him, but he’s only lying to himself. He is all emotions. And most of the time, he doesn’t know when to act on those emotions, so he deludes himself into thinking that it’s the logical part of his brain speaking.”

“It’s why he fucked up with me, and it’s why he puts on the Brucie persona with you.” Jason looked at you. “Everybody likes Brucie. It’s a fact. So, you must like Brucie too, even though you know that’s not him. He’s impulsive about it, thinking that just because he’s sweet now, what he did, or didn’t do, will be forgotten.”

“That’s- surprisingly sound of you, Jay.” You raised an eyebrow. “Thanks, I’m going to therapy.” He smiled, and Mark looked back at you. “Maybe you should try it.” Your head slowly turned to the young man. “I’ll go. If you go for the trauma Nolan gave you.” The named man looked at his son, eyes remorseful and ashamed. Mark looked back at his meal. “These fries are really good-“

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Wayne Enterprise was losing stockholders, he should have put out a statement. Or whatever Lucius said. Bruce wasn’t really listening, he wasn’t really doing much of anything since you actually punched him. Dick would call it depression, and maybe he was, but he was also planning… What he wasn’t sure of. Whatever he came up with ended up being erratic, theoretical, fantasies of finally getting you back, and fixing what he nurtured into destruction.

It was delusion, and some part of him knew. He wasn’t completely crazy… not yet. But that was a part he was deliberately burying. After all, there must be a way- you were still his kid, you wanted his attention. The six to seven years old version of you did, at least. At that time, you had found a camera that the chubby-cheeked version of you had used to film childish recreations of fairy tales, he couldn’t even tell if they were your favorites, or if those were just the ones you had similar enough clothes for. Ileana Simziana, Alice in Wonderland, Little Red Riding Hood.

All because you wanted him to see what your mom did, because he missed those, and he liked going to Dick’s school recitals. They were terrible, stuttering and fumbling with the change of clothes was most of the play- and yet, at the end of it all, you were all smiles and hopeful eyes. And then it stopped, picking up again about two years later, not with videos, but photos.

He tried to rack his brain for any information on this, trying to find a memory of you shyly approaching him to show these. He couldn’t find any. Bruce didn’t know what hurt more, the possibility that you gave up on even trying or that you did try, and he simply didn’t care enough to remember it. Either way, something made you stop from even touching the camera.

The photo right after the last video wasn’t done by you, it was actually of you. Of you specifically on Harvey’s shoulders, both sides of his dual-toned hair braided, and you putting sparkly hair clips in a random pattern as both faces of the man seemed to smile unbothered. Most photos were similar, you and a rogue doing something he should have done with you- The Penguin and you having tea parties, Killer Croc looking dead as he napped with you on top of his chest, Harley doing your nails as her hyenas tried to eat your forgotten sandwich, Selina smushing your face as she pressed a kiss to your cheek, face riddled with her lip marks even Music Meister seemed to have had time for you, the photo being of you two doing some sort of karaoke to some musical.

And yet the first photo of you, looking straight at the camera for once, all he saw was… saddening. You were giving a strained smile, eyes full of confusion about why whoever was behind the camera would want a photo of you. You weren’t used to those who you deemed family wanting photos of you, that was clear the more he carried on. Bruce remembers taking photos of Dick. Of Jason and Tim, of everyone. Alfred was the same. Every time he could, he would take a photo of the kids' achievements. There were no photos of you taken by either one, and you weren’t in any family group photos. Not theirs anyway. The rogues seemed to have taken more than enough of them.

It all angered him, the guilt only fueled the emotion. His fear of pulling you into the vigilante life, of suffocating you, his want to lock you away like a precious stone, was what threw you right into heroism, and not only that, it also tricked his mind into thinking that whatever drops of attention he gave were enough. You didn’t need your anger redirected, you didn’t crave to be the next Robin, you just wanted a dad. And he couldn’t give you that because he fooled himself that you didn’t need a father when you just lost a mother.

But you needed that. You always talked about your mom, you missed her, you wanted him to act like a dad, to be there for you, to console and love you, but all he saw was himself, and when he lost his parents, all he wanted was to be alone. You weren’t him. You weren’t like him. You needed support and affection, and he didn’t see it. “But Nolan Grayson did,” something hissed at the back of his head.

Bruce’s hands clenched as his blank stare was replaced by a deep frown. The rogues saw it. Nolan Grayson saw it. Nolan fucking Grayson. The man who beat the shit out of his son, ran away and had a whole another kid with a bug alien. You deemed him a better father. That hurt more than your punch.

He got up from his office chair, his direction set in his mind like it was the only answer, the family library. He hasn’t been near it in quite a while, his paranoia and guilt were playing tricks on his mind, he was sure of it.

The family portraits in there, since you left, had felt like they’ve been staring at him, following his every move. Books kept falling at his feet, furniture kept moving and hitting him, making him trip- all, he was sure, was his subconscious fumbling the distance in space from things due to stress and a pushed sense that one of his birds was missing.

Bruce folded the round carpet that was in the middle of the room, revealing a demon trap etched into the ground. He stepped into the middle of it, and as he bent down, his lip couldn’t help but twitch. You two were more similar than either of you thought. His nails caught onto a loose plank, and lifting it up moved several others.

His hand grabbed book after book. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he was sure these books will have the answer he’s looking for. The answer he wants.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The Sirens insisted on having some girl time, and when Roy showed up with Lian, it was set in stone. So, they pulled you, Debbie, April, and the unsuspecting girl to your room, insisting on doing some self-care and pampering, which ended up with you braiding Lian’s hair while Selina braids yours. Pamela, April, and your mom were doing an avocado mask, and Harley was happily humming as she painted Lian’s nails. “Isn’t this too many colors?” Harley laughed at the teen's question as she switched to the sixth bottle of nail polish. “There ain’t ever too many colors, honey.”

“Art would argue with that.” You huffed, tying the final French braid. “I don’t know,” Debbie muses, “Mark’s costume is… something.” Selina giggled at that. “The robin costumes are worse.” And she was immediately followed by an agreement from Harley and a snort from you.

Lian looked at the women all giggling at the pantless robin specifically, the girl smiling softly and leaning into your touch as you gently ran a hand across her back. This was nice. She loved when her dad did her hair, and with time, he has gotten better, but she wanted that with her mom. She knows Jade loves her, in her own way- and many would say that’s her only redeemable quality, not willing to give her the grace they give others- but her priorities lie somewhere else.

“Are you really not dating Deathstroke and Luthor?” Lian couldn’t help but ask for confirmation, relaxing completely when you smiled at her. “I’m not dating them, they’re just doing me a favor because Jason and I thought it’ll make the bats go crazy- which it did.”  Your smile grew into a prideful smirk, remembering the stories of Dick completely breaking down. “You say that, but you should see the way those two look at you when you’re not paying attention.” Debbie teased.

“Oh, so, every time?” Ivy couldn’t help but join. “Hey now- I pay attention-“ Selina raises an eyebrow as she quickly cuts in. “You almost walked into a pole because you saw a cat in a handbag.” Your mouth closed, argument dying in your throat as your cheeks flushed with heat. “Dad’s a real nice guy.” At Lian’s offhand comment, you turned your attention back on her, your finger gently pinching at her cheek. “I’m sure he is a great guy who doesn’t need his stellar daughter to wingman for him.”

“I said he’s a nice guy… he’s kind of hopeless when it comes to romance.” The teen’s comment got a laugh out of the older women. “Aren’t they all?” Harley jests. “Our sorceress is kind of hopeless to it too, isn’t she?” April spoke up, teasing smile on her lips. “I have no idea what you’re talking about-“ You sniff. “She’s right, gals, we’re starting to bully her-“ Selina purred. “Oh, by the way, my beloved kit, how is your crush on Wonder Woman going?” Your hand went over your heart as your mouth dropped open. “Just because I have one poster- this is Nolan all over… Lian- back me up here-“

“You’re right, you’re right-“ The teen pats your thigh. “Oh- I always wanted to know more about your relationship with Giganta.” Your other hand went over your heart as Lian just fluttered her eyelashes up at you, the other women starting to snicker. “Traitors… I’m surrounded by traitors.”

A knock at the door made everyone look at it, and when it opened, Two-Face got a mixed reaction of confusion and annoyance. “Switch time, come on, paternal figure and kid time.” He waved his hand for you to follow.

“Switch time? Y’all made a schedule?” You ask while getting up. “Yeah… we’ve learned to be buddies and share and all of that.” Harley rolled her eyes as she finished Lian’s nails. “Don’t worry, we’ll still be here when you get back.” Pamela reassured, redirecting Debbie worried look to the alien plant, asking what it eats.

You took the chance to follow Harvey, hooking your arm with his. He smiled as he led you downstairs to where Nolan and Mark were dressed in their nice suits, and even Oliver had his own little tux on while strapped to your dad’s chest. “Aww, look at my little man all prim and proper. So you're taking us to a nice place?” You cooed as the little guy grabbed at your fingers, nuzzling into your hand.

“Yes. And then we’ll visit Waylon and Bundy since they can’t come.” His eyebrow raised at the green light that engulfed your body and changed the pajamas to a long black dress, one similar to what he’d seen Morticia Addams wear in the many movies you were once obsessed with. “Cobblepot is waiting for us there.”

“We’re going to The Lounge?” Harvey smiled at Mark’s hidden excitement. “No. It’s not a place for babies, maybe we’ll go before you lot have to return.” Mark’s shoulders slumped as he fought a pout. “I’m still mad I can’t come-“ Jason whined, not even trying to hide his pout as Roy snickered. “If you come, the bats will for sure show up. Without you there, we get a fifty-fifty chance they won’t- no I won’t flip a coin for it, have a nice day, we’ll be back late.”

Jason’s frown deepened as he watched Two-Face usher the Graysons to the door. “Please don’t go after them. Do you really want to be blamed if Bruce does show up?” Roy nudged his friend, smiling as Jason groaned out a no.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Your laugh filled the otherwise empty restaurant as John Constantine shimmied himself and a chair between you and Nolan, despite having enough space anywhere else at the table. “Can’t believe I wasn’t invited-“ The blond man was cut by Mark’s snort, immediately followed by Nolan’s voice. “You’re more of a drunk uncle who only shows up when he wants something. Cecil has more of a right to your seat.” John just gave the man a look before turning his head back to you. “So- when you get home, there’s a gift waiting for you- no, not a hell hound, I’m not getting you a hell hound- it’s grimoires and other magic books, you’ll enjoy them.”

“And it was a must for you to interrupt our outing-“ John quickly interrupts Oswald, ignoring your whining about how you deserve a hellhound. “Nah, Bruce is about to show up any moment now- want to see the shit show for myself.” As the man stole Harvey’s whiskey, the doors opened, and in walked the bat himself.

“Can’t I take a break-“ You whined, your hand immediately covering your face as your elbows rested on the table. “Bruce-“ Harvey got up from his chair as both his faces showed the displeasure of seeing the bat brought. “I'm not looking for a fight-“ Bruce raised his hands in a surrendering manner before his eyes drifted back to you. “I do just want to talk.” You took the whiskey glass from John and downed it.

Oliver looked between you and Bruce as you slammed the glass down. His eyes remained on the older man’s tired face. Bruce, sensing eyes on him, turns his attention from your whining form to the toddler sitting in his highchair. As the man gives the kid a small smile, Oliver isn’t having any of it, his little face scrunching up as he points at Bruce. “Ugly.”

It takes a while for everyone to process what Oliver called the bat, but when it registers in everyone’s brain, the reactions are immediate. Bruce’s shoulders slump with defeat as you, John, and Mark completely lose it, laughing like hyenas. “Well-“ Whatever little jab Nolan wanted to give was interrupted when Oliver grabbed at his mustache. “Dada ugly too.”

The laughter only got louder. John went down, clutching his stomach while slamming his fist into the ground- you weren’t far behind, the only thing keeping you upwards was Mark shaking you as he laughed soundlessly, his face turning red. “Are you two done?” Nolan’s grumble was met with nonsensical babble, neither of his kids being able to form comprehensible sentences.

Bruce, deciding it’s a good enough time to get a distracted you to listen, gently taps your back, resulting in your hand in his as he gently pulls you away from the table. The men wanted to stop him, but knowing his history of digging his own hole, they let him take you away for a bit. “The mustache is quite ugly.” The Penguin mutters, and as Harvey hides his laugh with a cough, John lets out a sound similar to a dying cat.

You were stumbling, hitting Bruce’s arm with no real bite while your laughter left you lightheaded. “Oh, sweet Gelos-“ You sniffed, hand wiping away tears as you finally let go of the man to rest against a wall, body still shaking with giggles. And Bruce just smiled, the exhaustion fading away the more you mumbled and the more your shoulders shook with cackles and shaky breaths. He just wishes it didn’t take this long to hear you so happy. That you were laughing at something he said.

“I have so many explanations of why I did what I did.” His voice made you take in a sharp breath, any amusement dying down faster than Constantine can smoke a pack of cigarettes. “But that’s not an apology, and it doesn’t matter what I wanted to accomplish when all I did was hurt you.”  Bruce moved closer, and you pressed your back into the wall. “… I am sorry-“

“I don’t believe you.” Your tone was even, face blank, and shoulders tense. “You weren’t sorry back then, you're only sorry now, because the public and JL members found out and it started affecting you.” Bruce didn’t expect this to be easy, to be forgiven on the spot- this isn’t a Disney movie where the toxic grandmother is forgiven with a hug. “I know… And I understand why you’d believe that. But I won’t give up. Whether or not you like it, you’re still my daughter.”

“I may as well have been an orphan. The only good thing you’ve ever done was give me access to your money.” Despite the jab and you walking away, Bruce took this as a small win- after all, he didn’t get punched or cake smashed. Small steps, he was a patient man.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“-and I definitely wanted to punch him again.” You finished telling Waylon what happened at dinner, your eyes drifting to Bundy, who has been frozen since Oliver decided he wanted the zombie to hold him and cuddle. “You should have,” Two-Face growled. “Have to agree. I don’t like the courage he and his birds are getting.” Nolan grumbled, his arms crossed. “He hasn’t been this sloppy since Jason died.” Waylon’s tail tapped the ground as he spoke, lost in thought.

 John couldn’t agree more, the bug the man tried to plant was the most obvious thing. Too obvious. John frowned as he got up from the old armchair, walking past Mark, who was busy reading a The Walking Dead comic, straight to you. “Sorry, love.” He mumbled as he moved behind you, ignoring the conversation going on, while his hands went for your hair.

His eyes carefully moved down your strands of hair as he muttered spells, down the back of your neck, and stopping where your shoulders started. Two fingers went from the left to the right shoulder, his eyebrows furrowing while his eyes watched the tracking sigil disappear.  Seems like he’ll have to talk to the bat himself.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger @pinkluv29 @br33zy-blizzardz @victoria1676 @of-poetry-and-dreams @djpuppy-kittens @wizzerreblogs @galaxypurplerose @burningkittenprince @swanluver @ohnoivefallen @eyeless-kun @bunniotomia @kawairoach

[namgyunation]

not gonna teach him how to dance (with you)

— PART ONE.

— pairing: nam-gyu x f!reader (the focus); dae-ho x f!reader (barely.) — summary: you spent the past couple months of your life successfully dodging all of nam-gyu's attempts to contact you after you two'd broken up (and for good reason). now, six months later, your luck runs out, and you come face-to-face with the same guy you promised yourself you'd never see again. luckily, your new teammate, dae-ho, is there to act as a buffer. nam-gyu's not the biggest fan of that. — w/c: 17.5k — tags: jealousy. mentions of character death. drug usage. while this first part is generally sfw, the overall fic is 18+. mdni! nam-gyu is an asshole. reader replaces jun-hee in gi-hun's team for the pentathlon. while dae-ho x reader is in the tags, pls keep in mind this is mainly nam-gyu x reader!!! // tags for part 2: brief smut. pinv. unprotected sex. oral. drug usage (reader included). usage of 'bitch' and other unkind terms by nam-gyu.

— a/n: request for dearest ☁️ anon. thank you so much for this insanely fun request. i've been having a lot of fun while writing it. also, this is split into two parts bc i desperately need to release this from my drafts before i lose my mind!!! this first part is mostly exposition, aka, THERE'S NO SMUT IN HERE YET! anywaysss, i hope this is enjoyable while i crank out part 2 :]

he's got two left feet, and he bites my moves. i'm not gonna teach him how to dance with you.

you liked to think that you had a somewhat decent childhood. a decent upbringing with decent parents and a decent foundation for your future. a decent chance at life.

you also liked to think that you had a decent taste in men, but maybe that was pushing it a bit far, given your recent circumstances.

you liked to think all of these things.

but if that were all true, how exactly did you end up here?

you brought your knees to your chest, the stiff cot beneath you doing nothing to soothe the unease rising slowly and unbidden in your chest. you pulled the blue-green sweater tighter around yourself as if it'd help you stay together, continuing to stare out blankly at the sea of people before you in the cold room.

a day earlier, you stood at the subway station, anxiety and exhaustion weighing heavily on your bones. your shift had been tiresome. boring. slow. and yet, despite the slowness of your life, there was always an invisible weight, a neverending pressure pushing down on you, looming over your head like an axe ready to fall.

nowadays, you had gotten into the habit of ignoring your bank account, terrified of what you'd find if you dared to look. nonetheless, the ghost of your debts haunted your every move. every waking thought, every shift, every purchase, every shower you took only to promptly find out that your hot water had been shut off.

you ignored a lot of things.

the dull ache in your chest when you lied to your aging parents about how you were doing, not wanting to burden them with your mistakes. the way your landlord looked at you each time you paid your rent later and later, your head hung low in silent desperation. the voicemails and texts flooding your inbox, the last remaining ones before you'd finally blocked him. the fucking reason you were in this whole mess to begin with.

most of all, you ignored the way that, despite it all, a piece of you—a big, big piece of you—still wanted the fucker. still missed him. still—months later—hesitated weakly over the ‘call’ button beneath his contact image: a photo of him grinning next to a tree. it was blurry because you were laughing when you took it, but you liked it. you couldn't bring yourself to change it.

you hated that you still thought about him. you shouldn't be thinking of him at all. but honestly, it'd been impossible not to. not when your savings were nonexistent, drained into nothing because of him. because of the stupid fucking crypto. because he'd done his best to try and convince you that it was a good idea. because you'd trusted him enough to listen when you told him not to, only to wake up one day to him pacing in the living room, all color drained from his face as he pulled on his coat and rushed to work without so much as a glance over his shoulder, despite not being scheduled that day.

you remembered the exact moment you realized what'd happened. remembered what you were wearing, what you'd eaten that day, the three minutes you'd waited in line, the bankteller's bored, uninterested expression when she told you it wasn't a mistake that you couldn't withdraw any money. you remembered sitting on the bench outside feeling cold and numb, like you'd swallowed winter, the frantic messages pouring into your phone after he ignored your first five calls.

i'll fix it, i swear. i'll get it all back. you just have to give me a bit

it'll go back up, trust me. the guy said it would

the guy. he'd bet the entirety of your savings on the words of some fucking guy.

and just like that, you watched your whole life be flushed unceremoniously down the drain. you stayed rooted to the bench for ten minutes, your butt aching from the stiff, rotten wood.

to this day, just shy of six months later, you could still feel every last minute in your bones.

now, standing at the platform, your thumb twitched over your phone screen again. you let your eyes flutter shut, forcing yourself to inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth.

"rough night?

the voice was smooth, deep, carrying an edge of practiced familiarity. you blinked, lifting your gaze.

a tall man with dark hair and dark eyes stood next to you in a crisp suit, a polite but confident smile on his face as he regarded you kindly. his posture was relaxed, yet deliberate, a sleek briefcase resting against his leg.

you nodded, polite but alarmed by the sudden intrusion on your brooding. it'd been a long time since you cared enough to tangle in small talk with a stranger.

you hadn't even noticed him approach.

"yeah, you could say that," you replied half-heartedly.

he didn't say anything for a moment, just gave you a small nod as he hummed knowingly.

then, after a pause— "tell me, have you ever played ddakji?"

there was something off about the interaction, about the way he looked at you, talked to you with that calm familiarity, like he already knew you.

but you decided to humor it.

your day-to-day life was monotonous, a string of disappointments and uncertainties as you desperately tried to claw your way back up out of the hole you found yourself in, and with every passing moment, it seemed like you just kept on sinking.

so you shrugged internally, willing yourself to open your mind to the new uncertainty standing right in front of you.

you nodded.

by the time you got back home, your palms were slick with sweat. a wad of cash weighed down both of your pockets. your heart was racing as you stumbled over the threshold and quickly clicked the door shut.

you threw yourself onto the couch, your legs suddenly feeling too weak to stand. you felt like a ghost in your own home, not sure if you were really alive, as you pulled a card from your wallet.

a circle. a triangle. a square.

and a number.

but more importantly—

a chance.

clearly, you’d made your choice.

you wrung your hands tightly in front of you, digging your nails into your skin just hard enough to hurt before quickly soothing them with firm swipes of your thumbs.

after the explanation the guards provided you all earlier and the quick flashes of footage of the others getting slapped—same as you,— something inside of you unclenched. but only slightly.

despite its size, the room was suffocating. everyone was dressed the same as you, and you couldn't help but feel uneasy amongst all the unfamiliar faces. they were clearly all as confused as you. and, from what you'd learned earlier, they were just as broke as you, too. you sucked in a breath, only feeling slightly bad about the dull comfort it brought you, knowing that you weren't the only one perched desperately at the edge of your life.

this was your chance. you had to make it count. had to.

ddakji was easy enough. how much worse could this be?

the line inched forward, and you followed, peeking around the person in front of you for a moment. they—the pink guards, were gathering forms from each player. you just wanted to sign the damn thing, play the games, get your money, and get the hell out. traces of euphoria still lingered from the night before, the cash you'd won heavy and crisp in your hands. it made you impatient.

your turn came and went. you signed the paper quickly, barely even skimming the words in front of you before you were pushing the pen forward with numb fingers and breaking off from the crowd to find and claim a good bunk. as long as the promise of money still remained, you didn't find it necessary to get too into the fine details.

there was no going back now.

you're busy walking up the stairs to claim a top bunk when you heard it. it's a distant sound, but the recognition is immediate.

for a moment, everything stopped. a block of ice froze over you, making you feel unbearably heavy. your throat went dry as you turned your head slowly, cautiously towards the source of the intrusion.

a part of you desperately didn't want to believe it, hoped that you were imagining things. a part of you that didn't want to see him.

another part of you—tiny and pulsing and unbidden—did.

your eyes zeroed in on a black head of hair. long, sleek, with layers that jutted out just past the ears. you knew it from the way he stood, the way he moved. suddenly, your pulse quickened, your heart dropping down to your toes as your suspicions were confirmed.

because of course.

of course he had to there.

why the fuck wouldn't he be?

if it weren't for the sickening pit slowly taking form in your stomach, you might've laughed.

"the amazing myung-gi from mg coin? is that you?" a low, familiar rumble. teasing. mocking. your heart jumped.

nam-gyu cut effortlessly through the sea of voices like a knife, his words ringing in your ears even with the vast space between the two of you. your head spun.

you climbed the stairs quickly, suddenly filled with urgency as you took them two at a time. you threw yourself onto the highest cot and backed yourself up against the wall, not stopping until it pressed hard into your back. you tilted your head forward, letting your hair fall over your eyes in a makeshift shield. the only thing you could think to do to obscure yourself from him. you watched him from your vantage point, hoping, praying that he hadn't seen you.

you felt sick.

you pulled your knees up to your face and watched him with bated breath. your nails dug deep into your skin yet again as you tried, desperately, to ground yourself. fuck. you had to get it together. you couldn't let this jeopardize you. the money. this was bigger than him.

it looked like he'd made a friend already. a loud guy covered in tattoos with purple hair that seemed to match his personality: obnoxious, loud, and demanding attention. his voice projected loudly, echoing off the walls of the room. in front of them was a smaller guy. you couldn't fully tell what was going on, but it wasn't hard to tell that it was far from a pleasant interaction.

suddenly, the purple-haired one grabbed him by the collar, reeling back a fist with the clear threat of violence. nam-gyu quickly defused it, smiling as he peeled his 'friend' from the smaller guy. you couldn't hear what he was saying. he rubbed his shoulders as if placating him from his previous outburst.

you snorted in spite of the unease still settling in your bones.

leave it to nam-gyu to still find a way to insert himself into these kinds of situations, to seek out the worst possible people and attach himself to them like a magnet. even in a strange place like this.

you watched his back as he walked away and disappeared into his own corner of the room. thankfully, away from you. finally, you breathed, letting some of the tension in your shoulders fall away. there was no time for distractions. you had to get it together.

soon enough, it was time for the first game.

you weren’t sure what to expect, but you still carried yourself with as much confidence as you could. the crowd moved forward in a massive wave, funneling into the hallway leading into the game arena. pink guards led the crowd, a few of them standing at attention on the sidelines to make sure everyone kept moving. they looked so serious even in their hot pink uniforms. if this was some sort of game show, they were definitely taking themselves too seriously.

you took extra care to keep your head down, shielding the sides of your face with your hair as you matched the speed of those around you, not wanting to stick out. paranoia slipped between the cracks of your mind, but you pushed it down.

soon, you found yourself staring out at the large clearing stretching before you. you weren't sure what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn't this. you scanned the crowd. you didn't see him, but it didn't comfort you. he could be anywhere.

now, in the wide, empty space, you felt exposed. you quickly found a spot behind someone taller and bigger than you, taking shelter there while you waited patiently for instructions.

"all players, please wait a moment on the field." a voice boomed over the speakers.

that's when you saw it. a massive, animatronic doll standing at the far end. mechanical eyes staring straight ahead.

a man beside you chuckled. amused and incredulous. "what the hell is that?"

you didn't have an answer for him.

it wasn’t until the game had started and you were midway through the field with your heart hammering against your ribs and your palms slick with sweat that you realized the true gravity of the situation you're in.

every moment seemed to pass by in fragments, like it wasn’t really happening. like you weren’t really there.

the man in front of the crowd did little to comfort you. if anything, his words made your head spin more.

"you'll also die if you don't make it there in time!"

his voice reached your ears just fine amidst the eerie silence, but it was hard to focus over the feeling of your heart pounding craters into your chest.

"GREEN LIGHT."

you forced yourself to move despite the way your legs wobbled and threatened to give out. your pulse slammed in your ears as you ran. the finish line seemed a lifetime away. was this really how you were going to die?

the lines of players continued to inch forward at a torturous pace. you swallowed your nerves, clenched your hands into fists to hide the way they shook.

"RED LIGHT."

you lurched to a stop. your breath shuddered.

a man in the line to the right of you was still mid-step. his eyes widened in horror just before the shot rang out. he dropped. you tried not to look, but you saw. saw the way he fell like a ragdoll. saw the way the blood pooled beneath him, slowly.

your eyes flicked away from the crime scene, searching the rest of your periphery for anything else to wash away what you just saw. that's when you finally saw him. his head is low, ducked behind the taller woman in front of him. you couldn't see his face, but you saw the way his whole body locked. he's perfectly still, barely even breathing.

"GREEN LIGHT."

you pushed forward. step by step.

time slowed down, and you got tunnel vision. the only thing that mattered right now was reaching the finish line.

nam-gyu reached it before you, but you were barely even paying attention at that point, too distracted by the panic you were just barely able to swallow down.

when it came down to being noticed by nam-gyu or eating a bullet, the decision seemed much easier for you.

lucky for you, he couldn't be damned to care, either. as soon as he crossed the finish line, he threw himself to the ground, gripping the dirt with shaky hands like it was a lover. he didn't turn around, didn't give a fuck who was still on the field. he'd made it, and fuck. that was the only thing he gave a shit about right now.

when you finally crossed the threshold, your knees buckled, and you fell unceremoniously to the ground, clenching a fist in the material of your shirt as you counted the beats of your heart.

you were alive.

the last player stumbled across the finish line just as the timer ran out. you vaguely remembered picking yourself up, forcing your body to move despite the heaviness in your bones. you didn't look back.

not at the bodies. not at the blood.

the hallway swallowed you whole, leading you and the other players back to the main dormitory. soon, the doors had been slammed shut behind you, sealing away all the lifeless bodies left on the field.

the air in the main room was suffocating. the tall rows of beds seemed to cage you all in, standing tall like silent judges. you felt cramped, somehow even moreso than earlier, despite the fact that half of the people you'd walked in with hadn't walked back out.

the thought made you shudder.

some players collapsed the second they entered. others cried. you're surprised you hadn't joined them yet. you hugged your knees to your chest as the cold floor reached through your clothes and chilled you. climbing the stairs seemed too daunting of a task, right now. goosebumps rose to your skin as you waited. for what, you weren't sure.

when the guards emerged again, you realized that you'd completely forgotten about nam-gyu.

a loud, intimidating buzzer sounded, startling you from your position. your breath caught in your throat as you scrambled to your feet and hurriedly retreated deeper into the bunks against the far wall, as did all the others.

"congratulations for making it through the first game." the guard's voice was cold, mechanic.

his words were met with silence. nobody moved.

"here are the results of the first game," the guard continued.

your eyes flicked up to the screen, mouth going dry as you watched the number drop rapidly. it could've been you.

you chanced a glance around the room, then, and it didn't take long to find him. if you looked for the splotch of purple amongst the sea of black, he'd be right there next to it. nam-gyu's eyes were wide, lips slightly parted as he gripped tightly to the step he was sitting on.

it could've been you, but it also could've been him. you felt cold.

something inside of you—something small and quiet and aching—almost made you want to get up and talk to him, to ask him if he was okay, to hear your name on his lips for the first time in months.

you wondered if it would comfort you. you wondered if it would comfort him.

your thoughts were bordering on something dangerous, something akin to desperation, egged on by the intense fear building in your chest. the smell of blood and gore hung heavily in the air as your eyes traced the sharp edges of his face, your legs twitching with the barely hidden desire to move.

lucky for you, your thoughts were forcibly cut off by the sound of other players throwing themselves down in front of the guards. you swallowed, your pulse quickening as you watched them beg for their lives. did it even matter? would the guards even listen?

a few seconds passed of that: the guards standing stiff and tall on their elevated platform, looking down at everyone as they pleaded and begged. you felt sick.

then, the man that had led the crowd through the first game stepped forward.

"clause three of the consent form! the games may be terminated upon a majority vote."

your breath caught again. yeah. maybe it would've been a good idea to read the form, after all.

there would be a vote, and maybe you could leave. your mind raced at a million miles a minute as you planned out your next move. maybe you'd finally fess up to your parents and ask for their support. maybe you'd suck it up and just take out a loan. maybe. there were options, for sure, right? there had to be. it couldn't be any worse than this.

it was then that the guard pulled out a small remote, pointing it at the ceiling before clicking a button.

the harsh, white overhead lighting shifted and melted into something warmer, almost pleasant, like the dim glow of a campfire. you tilted your head skyward, taking in the source of the light with wide eyes.

everyone watched as the golden piggy bank filled with a steady stream of cash. it almost seemed like it wouldn't ever stop, each moment punctuated with a rhythmic ding as the money climbed higher and higher.

you could feel it in real time as you watched each wad of cash drop in, the way each hypothetical plan from the past few seconds crumpled itself up into a ball before promptly being discarded into a forgotten corner of your mind.

you swallowed hard, head spinning as you took it all in, your desperation at odds with your innate desire to survive. not too long ago, you stood on a desolate field littered with dead bodies, filled with nothing but thoughts of home.

now? you felt like you were being drawn in, held down, beckoned by some unseen magnetic force. it was like your body was practically begging you to stay.

fuck. you really needed that cash.

you glanced around quickly, but it was harder to pick out nam-gyu from the crowd now that everyone was standing.

however, you didn't really need to see his reaction to know that his pathetic, sorry ass definitely needed the cash, too.

soon, the room was set up for the vote. a blue 'o' and a red 'x' marked the floor, splitting it perfectly down the middle.

you stared intently at the voting booth at the far end of the room, skin buzzing with a feeling you couldn't name. you should leave. really, you should. it was the logical thing to do after what you'd seen, but the seed of doubt had already been planted, and with every passing moment, it grew bigger and harder to ignore, warmed by the glow of the piggy bank hanging overhead.

your number wasn't too close to the beginning, nor was it right at the end, so you had plenty of time to think, to try and talk yourself out of what your body was screaming at you to do.

eventually, the guard called your number, and every muscle in your body locked up. you exhaled sharply, rubbing your thumbs over your knuckles to soothe yourself. you kept your head down as you walked up and let your hair fall over your face, desperately trying not to meet anyone's eyes. nam-gyu hadn't voted yet, thankfully, so it would be a little easier to avoid him seeing you.

it was quiet as everyone watched your back, eyes flicking between you and the screen as they waited for what you'd do.

you came to a stop at the voting booth, taking in both buttons as you worried your bottom lip. you paused for a few seconds, trying and failing to force your body to change its mind, to come to its senses last minute, but it didn't.

it was almost laughable how quickly you found your answer. you knew it before your number had been called, before you even walked up.

the bodies. the blood. the gunshots. it all flashed through your head, made your hands shake. but when you put all the delusions to the side and it really came down to it—what exactly was even waiting for you on the outside?

you slammed the button quickly, taking the blue patch from the guards and applying it frantically before you turned, awkwardly tipping your head forward to let the hair fall over your eyes again as you ducked your head, not daring to look up. you slipped seamlessly into the 'O' crowd as they cheered for you, their eyes glued to the screen as the blue vote went up by one.

you held your breath and waited in silent agony as the minutes crawled by. had he seen you? was he looking at you now? you didn't dare look, but your neck itched with the temptation.

when the vote finally ended, revealing that the games were going to continue, you didn't cheer, but something sick washed over you—relief? hope? determination?

you were a walking contradiction: terrified for what the following days would bring, of what you saw today, but still desperate enough to want to grip onto this opportunity and take whatever you posibbly could from it. what else was left for you if you didn't?

thankfully, the guards supplied all of the players with food as soon as the vote ended. it was much appreciated, considering the guilt now steadily gnawing away at your conscience.

you shoved yourself into a dark corner of the dormitory, clutching the cold tin like a lifeline as you finished it all. it wasn't the best. the rice was dry, and considering it was the only thing you had to eat today, it barely even felt like a meal, but it was what you were given, and you sure as hell weren't about to waste it.

you sat with your back against the cold metal bars of the bunk beds, knees drawn up as you finished the water bottle in just a few gulps. you wiped your mouth with the back of your sleeve as your eyes flickered across the room, cautious, searching, scanning the sea of strangers yet again as you tried to wrap your head around the situation you were in.

you'd purposefully wedged yourself into a quiet corner of the room far away from the others, from him.

a thought struck you, then. how many of these people were already working together? you took in the murmurs and hushed discussions flowing around you, suddenly feeling a bit dumb in the small corner you'd tucked yourself in.

your hands curled around the now-empty water bottle, crushing it slightly as your breathing quickened. you'd barely spoken to anyone, all your energy having gone towards avoiding nam-gyu, and in a place like this, you were certain that that was a mistake.

a commotion across the room pulled your attention. you leaned forward, trying to get a better view around the beds.

you spotted nam-gyu first. he was busy pulling the guy from earlier—mg coin—off of his purple-haired friend. you watched as nam-gyu held him back, locking him in by his arms just long enough for his friend to get some punches in. the sound of a fist connecting with his jaw echoed through the room—once, twice, and then he crumpled to the ground with a pained grunt. it made you wince.

"i lost all that money because of you, fucker." his frien'ds voice carried over to your corner, loud and angry and filled with malice.

behind him, nam-gyu rolled up his sleeves. "hey, let me get in there." he directed his attention to the man on the floor as he ran up, face twisted in a sneer. "you son of a bitch—"

your eyes widened as the scene unfolded before you, mouth curling up in a mixture of disgust, confusion, and amusement as you watched as your ex-boyfriend completely fumbled his kick, promptly losing his balance and falling to the ground right after.

you held back a laugh, the hand still holding your water bottle going up to cover your mouth as you watched his friend shove him back out of the way. what a loser.

you turned away, settling back into your corner as you held the metal tray in front of you, running your thumbs over the cold surface in an attempt to soothe yourself as you waited patiently for all of this to be over.

the night came and went. you didn't sleep well.

an announcement echoed through the vast, sterile room, rousing you from your inadequate sleep and reminding you of exactly where you were. it took a moment for you to fully process the stuffy tracksuit scratching your skin and the stiff, foreign bed pressing up beneath you. your stomach twisted as you threw your thin blanket to the side and forced yourself down the stairs. the cheerful music sounding over the speakers did nothing to comfort you. if anything, it made you feel worse.

"the next game will start momentarily. please follow the instructions from our staff."

soon, you and the other players were being led through the hallways yet again. obedient lambs being led to the slaughter. you climbed up and down the staircases without a word, forcing yourself to inhale and exhale as you took in the brightly colored interior around you, a stark contrast to the danger that was no doubt waiting for you at your destination.

a small part of you wanted the stairs to go on forever, but soon enough, the big gray doors separating you from your potential death were sliding open. the pink guards filed into the room, you and the rest of the players in tow. the mechanical voice sounded over the speakers yet again.

"players, welcome to the second game. we will begin shortly. this game will be played in teams."

in teams.

"please take the next ten minutes to divide into groups of five. i will now repeat the instructions."

a chill spread through your body.

fuck. you could barely stand group projects when you were still in school, preferring to just get everything done on your own. it was exhausting, having to depend on others and put your trust in them to do their part and pull their weight. now, standing dumbly in a foreign room surrounded by a sea of strangers, it dawned on you that you had no choice.

before, an inadequate team meant your grade was on the line, an easy fix with a quick email to your professor.

here? an inadequate team meant certain death, and unfortunately for you, technology just hadn't advanced far enough to find an easy fix for a bullet to the head.

"please divide into teams starting now."

get it together.

you weaved in and out of the crowd, searching for someone merciful enough to take you in. people were already moving, scrambling into groups like ants, their voices overlapping hurriedly in rushed whispers and negotiations.

"already full."

"try somewhere else."

"sorry, we're set."

your heart pounded faster and faster with each rejection. what would happen if you didn't have a group? it wouldn't be fair. the guards wouldn't allow that. right?

you made eye contact with a group of four men, and you opened your mouth to speak as you steered yourself in their direction, a spark of hope bubbling in your chest.

"sorry. we already have our group," one of them spoke before you could even say anything.

you paused mid-step. their body language became clear to you. the way they turned their backs to you ever so slightly, huddling closer to each other in a tight circle that clearly existed to shut you out, just enough to subtly express their clear disinterest while maintaining plausable deniability. their eyes flicked over your body, looking you up and down.

your hand went up, gesturing vaguely at their huddle. admittedly, you were growing a bit desperate.

"you have four? i thought..."

you trailed off as another man sauntered up to their group, approaching them from the side and immediately drawing their full attention.

"are you still looking for a fifth player? i'd like to join you."

two of the men grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him quickly, wordlessly into their circle, clapping him on the shoulder like they were long-lost friends.

they didn't spare you a second glance.

you shut your mouth quickly, any and all words dying on your tongue as you watched another door shut in front of you.

when you looked around again, you found that almost everyone had arranged themselves neatly. circles of five dotted the room and continued to grow.

the groups were forming fast.

too fast.

you pictured yourself again, trying to claw yourself out of a hole that just kept on sinking deeper.

the air in the room somehow felt thinner. still, you pushed forward, gripping onto hope. there had to be an open spot somewhere.

and then—

a subtle shift in the air. enough to tug at your chest with a slight feeling of unease. the prickle of something unseen.

your body reacted before your mind did. something was off. you slowed, your movements stiffening.

and then, in your peripheral vision—

you felt it. the weight of his stare boring holes into your profile.

you froze, suddenly realizing how exposed you were. a lone ant wandering frantically around the established huddles. your heart dropped to your toes. slowly, you turned your head, just a fraction.

nam-gyu stood just a few feet away, caught mid-step, his body rigid like he'd just walked straight into a nightmare.

as you expected, his eyes are locked onto you, wide with something unreadable.

and for the first time in six months, you saw him. really saw him. not from a distance, not from a memory, not from old photos or in between the spaces in your dreams.

you saw him.

and he sure as hell saw you.

your breath caught, feeling like a deer in headlights.

you noted the increased sharpness of his jaw, the thinning of his face. a stray thought hit you, and you wondered if he'd been eating well since you were gone. his eyes looked tired. his hair was longer. it had been a long time.

at first, his face didn't change. he stood still, eerily still, almost like a statue, staring at you like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. he narrowed his eyes for a moment, leaning in ever so slightly as if confirming your identity.

recognition flashed across his features, and he faltered. his friend that he'd been following rushed ahead, completely unaware of nam-gyu lagging behind him.

then, his expression shifted.

you watched as his jaw tightened, lips pressing into a thin line. his hands curled into fists at his sides.

the way he looked at you—his eyes flashing with disbelief, anger, and underneath it all, something absolutely wrecked—it made your stomach twist.

you knew that look. you knew him. it didn't take a genius to guess what was going on in his head right now. just you.

nam-gyu's mind twisted as flickers of you rose to the surface, crawling out from their hiding places beneath his overwhelming fear. a cruel replay of the slow and steady crash of what the two of you had built together. and he'd been the one to push the first domino.

he remembered it all. how he'd begged like his life depended on it, sad and desperate and pleading as he felt the rug being pulled in real-time from beneath his feet. sent texts and left voicemails that went unanswered. chased after you for months when you suddenly decided you were done—for real, this time—and scrubbed yourself cleanly from his life. he'd tracked down mutual friends for a single hint or loose end, only to find that you'd scrubbed that, too.

something possessed you the day you found out, and you made quick work of it: new number, new socials, new place, new friends. you cleaned every surface, filed away each memory, dusted every cobweb sitting in the corners of what used to be your relationship, and somehow still found the time to leave your shoes neatly at the door.

you'd become a ghost in his life, only existing in loose items between couch cushions and scattered beneath the sink, in passing questions from people that he didn't care about in conversations that he didn't want to have.

and now—now you were here. standing right in front of him.

like you'd been raised from the fucking dead.

after months of searching. months of nothing.

you backed away a fraction of a step.

he saw it.

his nostrils flared, fingers twitched. his posture went rigid like a coil about to snap, like a creature about to pounce, but he didn't move towards you. he didn't say anything. just watched.

because he wouldn't give you the satistfaction. wouldn't let you know that this did something to him. that he even gave a shit. that the very sight of you still made his heart race and hands shake.

you snapped out of it, turning fast. your chest tightened with the urge to get away.

behind you, nam-gyu watched your back in retreat, only letting his eyes rest on you for a few more seconds before he forced himself to turn, following after his friend again as he desperately tried to ignore the blood rushing in his ears.

your face was pale as you looked from side to side, legs shaking with the effort of not crumbling to the floor. then, you saw him. alone and searching amongst the crowd. a tall man with his hair done up in a ponytail. his eyes locked on to another player, someone just a few feet away.

you watched in horror as another door threatened to close before you. you didn't think, didn't hesitate, your feet barely touching the ground as you sprinted towards him.

he startled when you grabbed onto his sleeve. perhaps a bit too rough. your nails dig into the fabric of his tracksuit, clutching him like you're afraid he might run away. you're aware of how crazy you must look, looking up at him with your eyes blown wide and all color drained from your face.

his brow furrowed, mouth opened, but you spoke first.

"please."

the word came out choked, desperate. your knuckles turned white around his sleeve, your grip tight enough for him to know that this wasn't just a casual request.

"let me join your team." it didn't even dawn on you that he might not even have a team, what with the way he was wandering around alone. you didn't really care. "please," you said again.

the man looked at you, his face still laced with surprise from the suddenness of your interaction. not even a second passed before he was nodding enthusiastically, looking almost relieved.

"sure!" he said simply. a smile. "come on."

his hand came out to tap on your shoulder twice. his touch was light, respectful, barely perceptible as he led you forward, towards his team. as if sensing your unease, he let his fingers linger on your shoulder, hovering just slightly above so he was barely even touching you. still, it tethered you to him with the promise of a group.

you didn't exhale until your legs finally came to a stop before them.

"sir, sir, i found someone!" he said, fingers fanning out as he gestured to you at his side. "or, she found me." he smiled kindly at you.

you nodded shakily. "thank you," you managed to get out, now that your pulse was slowly returning to normal.

the three older men acknowledged you politely.

some of the tension released from your shoulders. you had a team.

from across the room, nam-gyu watched next to his newly formed team, his lower lip caught between his teeth as his mind filled with static. he turned away quickly, scared that you'd turn around and catch him looking.

he played anxiously with his rings, sliding them on and off of his fingers as he struggled to catch his breath. the world muffled around him for a moment before he was dragged back by a random outburst of english.

"what's up, my brother! welcome to the thanos world." he—thanos, pulled the shortest member of the newly-formed team into a hug. "you're cute. come on."

nam-gyu felt like his head might split open.

relief felt funny in a place like this. as soon as your body started to unclench, albeit just a little bit, the world made sure to remind you that this whole ordeal was far from over, and soon enough, your body started clamming right back up.

sure, you were relieved that you'd found a team, but was it even the right one?

you didn't even know what the game was going to be, didn't even know if you were going to alive within the next hour.

the thought made you shudder, so you did your best to push it down, your attention fading in and out as they conversated around you. your hands twitched nervously at your sides as you fought against the urge to scan the room, to see where he was.

despite the temptation, you weren't sure if you were mentally equipped to handle what would happen if you were to make eye contact with nam-gyu for a second time. you hadn't turned around once since you'd joined dae-ho's side. you couldn't—not when the prickle of paranoia was icing up and down your spine, telling you that he was looking at you now, a warning. not when you knew exactly what kind of expression he was wearing—something between a sneer and a scowl, like he was daring you to look back.

you kept your gaze forward and your face unreadable. the last thing you needed was any outside people getting involved in whatever was brewing between the two of you. if you had any say in it, you hoped to get through all the games without speaking to nam-gyu at all.

somewhere across the room, nam-gyu's jaw tightened as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, his posture deceptively casual. he watched your back intently, like he was still coming to terms with the fact that it was really you. a cold, aching feeling had settled in his chest at the first sight of you, and it coiled tighter and tighter with each passing moment that you didn't try to look for him. you didn't even turn your head. it was like you didn't give a shit that he was there or the fact that you hadn't seen him in six. fucking. months. nam-gyu's whole body felt hot, but he couldn't say anything. not here. not now.

his team stood in a huddle beside him, chatting amongst themselves, though it was mostly thanos that was speaking. he said something loud and off-key, likely a joke. only one person laughed. nam-gyu could hear his voice, but he couldn't make out any of the words. he wasn't listening.

after a few more moments of that, of waiting in silent agony for you to show a single sign of caring, he forced himself to turn around, to tear his eyes away from you, pretending as if the past six months hadn't been absolute hell—as if he hadn't seen you in his dreams every single night, only to wake up dazed and confused in a sweat-soaked shirt, reality setting in as he realized that his bed was too cold and too small for the two of you. it always took a few seconds for him to remember that he was alone, and each time, it hurt just as bad as the night before.

and now? now you were here, real and right in front of him, sharing the same damn air, and you wouldn't even fucking look at him.

he was silent as he regarded his new team, a sour taste forming in his mouth for more reasons than one. every second that you were out of his view was agonizing, but he would never admit that. he could walk over to you right now, if he wanted, but he couldn't. not after you'd looked at him like that—like you didn't even know him.

he refused to give you the satisfaction of turning him away yet again.

he had more important things to focus on, anyways. at least, that's what he kept telling himself.

soon enough, the timer ran out and teams were finalized. all the players were lined up on the floor within their respected circle. you stared at the track out of the corner of your eyes, noting the rainbow pattern indifferently as you rubbed slow, soothing circles into your knees.

you noticed that the rest of your team seemed somewhat acquainted as they chatted amongst themselves, likely from the first game. it made you feel a bit out of place, considering you were the last minute addition hurriedly and desperately wedged into their group.

however, their slight familiarity with each other was welcome. if anything, it meant that the team would function well. at least, you hoped it would. you breathed a silent prayer, thankful that, despite the fact that you'd basically taken a shot in the dark when you asked to join, your team seemed promising. seemed normal. it was the least you could ask for in a strange place like this. either way, there was no backing out now.

the first round of players went up, and you watched intently as they lined up and were promptly cuffed together by the guards.

after a brief discussion with your team, it was decided that you were going to play ddakji. your mind drifted back to the other day. how innocent and unassuming the game seemed that night on the platform. you pushed yourself to your knees to get a better view.

ddakji, flying stone, gonggi, spinning top, and finally, jegi.

you sucked in a breath as you took it all in, thankful for the fact that your team hadn't been called to go up first, though the apprehension still found a way to creep in. your fingers twitched in your lap, shaking with steadily rising anxiety as you watched the clock. you fisted your hands into the material of your sweatpants in an attempt to still them, a shudder tearing through your body as the man in front of you messed up flying stone yet again.

next to you, dae-ho noticed.

"hey," he said, his voice firm but still gentle. you tore your eyes away from the track for a moment to return his gaze. at that, he leaned over and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. his touch was as light and soft as it was earlier, barely perceptible as he patted you. he pressed his lips into a thin, firm line before he nodded at you, just once. "we're gonna do just fine. don't worry too much." after a moment, he added, "plus you're with two ex-marines!" he furrowed his brows as he said it, pumping a singular fist in the air between the two of you with a solid look of determination on his face.

next to him, jung-bae leaned over, his face just as serious as he wrapped an arm around dae-ho, shaking him vigorously. "that's right! there's nothing a marine can't do."

they both looked at each other now, nodding their heads as if affirming each other's statements.

dae-ho turned back to you with a steady, unwavering gaze that you could only hope to return. his voice was confident and even as he spoke again, "you're in good hands with us, miss."

you breathed in again, giving him a small nod in lieu of a response, and for the first time that day, you almost felt like smiling.

somewhere in front of you, nam-gyu's neck was stiff with tension, struggling against the temptation to scan the faces behind him. he couldn't risk you seeing, couldn't risk you getting the outlandish idea that he gave a shit, not after you'd been so adamant about not looking at him—and yet, despite how badly he tried to focus on the track and preparing himself for spinning top, questions continued to fire mercilessly through his mind.

which track were you in? where were you sitting? which game were you going to play? would you go up first, or would he? and most importantly—who was in your team besides that guy you'd ran up to? his eye twitched, remembering. yeah. the guy with the stupid fucking ponytail.

he replayed the moment in his head over and over again, recounting that terrified, wide-eyed look that'd spread over your face at the sight of him, like seeing him again was somehow scarier than what the two of you had seen the other day.

in the time you'd been apart, he'd done a lot of thinking. about how long it'd take for you to crack and finally reach out to him. what you'd do when—not if—you saw him again. if you'd care. if you'd be happy. maybe even relieved.

it seemed like he got his answer, but he wasn't the least bit happy about it. he seethed in silent rage, nibbling anxiously at his lower lip as he desperately tried to maintain the casual slouch he was forcing himself into.

he didn't care.

really, he didn't.

next to him, thanos bobbed around to the soundtrack in his own head. nam-gyu watched him carefully out of the corners of his eyes, analyzing his face for a moment before dropping his gaze down to the cross that was no doubt dangling from his neck, hidden behind the zipper of his sweatshirt.

he'd seen it earlier—thanos hunched over on his bed as he delicately plucked a pill from his cross, tucking it away quickly the second nam-gyu'd asked about it. the image of the pills flitted across his mind, all colorful and round and tantalizing, and most importantly, swaying innocently back and forth less than a foot away.

nam-gyu swiped his tongue along the front of his teeth, temporarily broken out of his stupor by the possibility, the promise, that if he just played his cards right, he would be able to get high. would be able to drift away and get his mind off of everything. off of you. it definitely wouldn't be the first time he'd done so.

his eyes drifted back up to the big, digital clock hanging on the wall, and he watched with bated breath as it slowly wound down, each second feeling like a punch to the gut.

finally, it reached zero. neither team had made it to the end, though one of them had come tantalizingly close, all five of them standing just inches away from their life. the guards wasted no time as they stepped forward. nam-gyu knew what came next. everyone did, and yet, it didn't make it even the slightest bit easier to watch.

in an instant, the shots rang out, followed by the sickening thud of ten lifeless bodies hitting the ground.

for a second, his mind was blank, overtaken by the ice cold surge of fear taking over his system.

he clenched his hands into fists, his nails digging painfully into the meat of his palm as every cell in his body shook with unbridled fear.

it wasn't a question anymore. if the games didn't kill him, nam-gyu was certain that the anxiety fucking would. his stomach was doing somersaults, tying itself painfully into knots. he tore his eyes away from the track, from the bodies, and leaned towards thanos, a heat creeping up his neck as he grabbed him, desperate for something tangible to hold onto.

thanos barely acknowledged him, save for a curt glance and a sharp "what?"

nam-gyu swallowed his pride, forcing down the air catching in his throat as he spoke. he needed those fucking drugs, and he was going to get them.

it didn't take much convincing, thankfully. just a few words and a tug of his sleeve. the second thanos gave him that look, something akin to genuine concern—nam-gyu knew he had him.

and of course, less than a minute later, nam-gyu was eagerly crunching a bitter, chalky pill between his teeth. it was fast-acting, for sure, but the relief washed over the instant it hit his tongue. it hadn't even kicked in yet, but it didn't matter. just knowing that he had it was enough.

he'd get through this game. he'd get his damn money. then he'd get the fuck out.

once he did, he'd pay off his debt and start new, and you wouldn't even matter anymore. at least, that's what he told himself as he finally swallowed, feeling every last bit of the pill as it scratched its way down his throat.

he repeated it over and over in his mind like a mantra, as if saying it enough times would make it true. and yet, even as the drug started to settle in, even as the warmth pleasantly unfurled in his limbs, he knew, deep down, that it was bullshit.

a few more teams went up. most passed, thankfully. you tried not to think too hard about the ones that didn't.

every time you heard the ding, the signifier that a player had passed their game and could advance, you cheered, as did everyone else. the room was alive with a static kind of energy, lively and laced with an underlying apprehension. every time the players celebrated, the crowd whooped, jumping up and down and grabbing at each other wildly. next to you, dae-ho hollered, pumping his fists in the air as he cheered the next team on. he turned to look at you a few times, staring down at you with furrowed brows and that same strong sense of determination, like he was trying to convince you, and maybe even himself, that your team would be able to do just as well.

up until now, the teams had been made up of strangers, just nameless faces and fellow unfortunate souls—most of which, you'd likely never get to know.

when the next pair of teams were called up, your eyes followed the movement, watching as the next players took their place on the track. your stomach clenched when you saw him.

you noted the number on the back of nam-gyu's tracksuit, committing it to memory. 124. a morbid thought bubbled up to the forefront of your mind. no matter how you felt about him or what'd transpired between the two of you, you desperately hoped that this wouldn't be the last time you saw his number.

the air shifted just slightly, your tongue suddenly feeling too big for your mouth as you pressed yourself up on your knees, trying to get a better view, emboldened by the fact that you were hidden in the thrum of the crowd.

you watched as the guards approached, leaning down to get his team situated. the sound of their cuffs clicking into place sent a shudder through your body. based on their order, you knew that he was going to be playing spinning top.

he didn't look at you, not that he'd know where to look in the first place.

you narrowed your eyes, leaning forward as your eyes raked over him. his body appeared relaxed, almost too relaxed, but you knew better. if you knew nam-gyu at all, you were certain that there was no way he was capable of remaining completely calm in a situation like this. you continued to watch him, your eyes staring intently at his profile and at the stupid, dopey grin spreading across his face, his expression at complete odds with the situation at hand.

you balked a bit. how the hell was he smiling right now? he looked over at thanos, and you watched as they exchanged that same glossy, almost far-away look with each other before linking arms, jostling each other with the movement. nam-gyu rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, jumping up and down just slightly as a dazed laugh escaped his lips. he wobbled, and it almost looked like he was going to fall back, but he tightened his grip on thanos, pulling himself forward and correcting his balance.

thanos snapped him out of it, shaking him vigorously where their arms were linked as if trying to hype him up. "come on, bro! let's do this!" his voice was as loud as always, boisterous and confident, like there wasn't a doubt in his mind that they'd make it through the game. he had that same dopey smile on his face, one that matched nam-gyu's perfectly. you weren't sure if the sight comforted you or not.

the shorter teammate to his left struggled to stay upright in response to both of their erratic movements as they continued to jostle each other, giggling like kids. a small gasp left his lips as he tried not to fall, shifting his legs and leaning forward more to accomodate the weight of nam-gyu's arm slung across his shoulder. further down to his left, the one girl on his team rolled her eyes, shaking her head at the two of them with something you guessed was regret. the man at the far end looked more confused than anything.

you blinked. if you didn't know any better, you'd think nam-gyu was high. you'd seen him in that state more than enough times to know when he was. but... in here? how could he be?

suddenly, the gun shot sounded to signal the start of the game, interrupting your thoughts and pulling your attention back to the present. your breath caught as the five minute timer started to count down. without wasting another second, his team began to advance.

nam-gyu's first two teammates passed without a hitch.

his third teammate, mousy and skittish and uncertain, messed up gonggi once or twice, only to promptly face nam-gyu's onslaught of curses as he shook him back and forth with a vehement sneer, a display that made you wince. soon enough, he finally caught the five pieces, his palm turning up quickly to prove to the guards that he'd done it. the crowd—you included—breathed a collective sigh of relief that was followed by roaring cheers.

nam-gyu was next. the first time he went, he messed up. the top hit the ground with a snap. his throw was too rough, not the right angle, and it bounced up, coming back down with a plop as it sat motionless on the floor. you winced. every atom in your body was cheering for him, begging him to make it through.

as if getting revenge for her previous teammate, the girl reached out as soon as the top clattered pathetically to the floor, grabbing nam-gyu roughly by the collar and shaking him angrily. he didn't say anything as she cursed at him, just took it, his eyes wide as his chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths.

on his second attempt, despite the stupid way thanos was dancing next to him—an erratic purple blob invading his periphery—thank fucking god, he got it right.

the top shot out like a bullet, landed, and began to spin, smooth and quick.

a deep breath shuddered out of you as you watched him celebrate, his expression incredulous as relief washed over him. his legs shook wildly, almost buckling under his weight, and it looked like he was barely resisting the urge to jump up and down before he pulled himself back together. you felt something unclench in you at the sight.

thankfully, thanos passed his game on the first try, easily making up for the time his past two teammates had lost.

and just like that, nam-gyu's team was off the chopping block.

you watched nam-gyu's back as they walked away, emboldened by the fact that you were shielded by the crowd. if he turned around, he wouldn't be able to find you. it didn't end up mattering, though, because he disappeared into the exit without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

you sunk back down onto your knees and did your best to pretend that it didn't mean something to you.

in the dormitory, nam-gyu sat with his team, his legs pressed together, arms slung lazily across his lap, a mask of indifference plastered across his face.

he grinded his teeth behind his lips, his nails digging into the skin of his thighs over his sweatpants as he pretended like he wasn't waiting.

waiting for you.

he hadn't spoken too much since his team had passed and they'd arrived in the main room. he was too focused on not thinking about you, on not letting anyone see how much he wanted to know if you were still alive. the drugs had worn off a bit ago, bringing him back to the reality that he, unfortunately, gave a shit.

the very real possibility of the last time he ever saw you being him watching your back from a distance as you huddled closer to another man, looking up at him like he was your fucking savior, haunted him more and more with every team that passed through the door. and of course, it was every damn team but yours.

his tongue came out to swipe anxiously at his bottom lip before he caught it between his teeth, nibbling at it absent-mindedly as he fought the urge to get up and fucking scream.

and then—

the door opened its mouth yet again. he held his breath, waiting to see what it would spit out.

as if something up above had heard his silent, hesitant plea, you finally walked in a second later.

at the sight of you, his heart jumped, his whole body jolting with the instinct to move, to stand up, to go to you, to—

no.

he forced himself to relax, to exhale. his whole body locked up again as he slowly leaned back, like he hadn't just been seconds away from losing his mind.

as if to puncutate his thought process, the rest of your teammates followed, trailing behind you as they emerged from the door. nam-gyu felt his blood run cold, his whole body tightening as he watched him—that motherfucker—jog shamelessly to catch up with you. like he was your friend. like he had any business getting close to you. like he fucking knew you.

nam-gyu's eyes traced his every moment, eyes flicking between you and him. each time that his tiny ponytail bobbed, nam-gyu's rage only grew. he watched as he fell into an easy, casual step next to you, immediately grabbing your attention with a light tap to your shoulder. when you didn't shy away, didn't shrug it off, just let it rest there, nam-gyu's throat seized up. you looked up at him with relief, soft and gentle as you came down from the anxious nightmare that you'd all just walked out of. it made him sick, the way that you looked at him—this stranger, this intruder—with something almost akin to familiarity, as if he wasn't just some random guy that you'd only teamed up with because he just so happened to be the convenient choice. as if nam-gyu wasn't sitting right fucking there just across the room, basically begging you, daring you to acknowledge him.

he swallowed hard, flexing his fingers against his lap as he forced himself to exhale, to lean back like he wasn't barely resisting the urge to walk right up and rip you away from that loser.

he made sure to overcompensate. because he was fine. really, he was fine. and it had nothing to do with you, of course.

"fuck, way too many are still alive," nam-gyu huffed, forcing the sentence out as he let his head loll back lazily. he leaned further into the steps. his heart was still racing, fingers still twitching against his leg as he tried to appear casual.

but he was still watching.

out of the corner of his eye, he saw the way your shoulders were still tense, just slightly, but enough for him to catch. he saw the way you kept your gaze forward, rigid and stiff, like you didn't want to run the risk of accidentally looking at him.

and god—it pissed him off.

after he watched your back retreat into the bunks along with your team, he turned to his own teammate, min-su, the small one who'd played gonggi, pasuing for a moment before he opened his mouth to speak again.

he was fine.

and you were fine, too. like he gave a shit.

"hey. yo."

min-su's eyes snapped up to look at him as he hesitantly uncurled himself from his protective stance. he looked at him expectantly, movements uncertain and skittish.

"how many do you think are left?"

min-su blinked. "sorry?"

"i'm asking you, how many roaches do you think we have left in here?" he leaned forward, a sickly smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he pushed the words out, slow and gentle, as if he was speaking to a child.

he needed to regain his composure, needed to relax. the color was slowly returning to his face. he watched min-su bumble around, eyes searching the room as if calculating the number in his head.

across the room, your voice suddenly rose up above the rest. nam-gyu snapped to attention, mouth going slack. he pretended not to notice, pretended that he hadn't been listening for it this whole time.

he watched min-su's mouth move in response to his question, but he could barely hear him, now too busy trying to catch your words.

after a brief exchange, you'd come to know all of their names. gi-hun, jung-bae, young-il, and—the one that took you in—dae-ho. according to him, it meant "big tiger." cute.

"and you?" dae-ho asked, an expectant smile on his face that contrasted the tension permeating the room.

you said your name, and he repeated it back to you, nodding slowly as if he was committing it to memory.

"well, it's very nice to meet you. let's continue do our best," he said, a determined fist clenching in front of him as he turned to make eye contact with the whole team.

you hoped that even a fraction of his optimism would rub off on you.

during the brief conversation, you'd also learned that dae-ho was the only son for two generations and that it'd been his father's idea for him to join the marines. it felt nice, getting to know them. it made you feel a little less scared, like you had people you could rely on.

they all congratulated each other for their successful performance in the game, including you. your face flushed with the praise, a feeling of security falling over you like a blanket. you hoped it would last.

the pleasant exchange was interrupted by the sound of a loud, mechanical beep as the large door at the front of the room slid open. a group of guards stepped through, standing stiff and tall as they regarded everyone from their elevated position on the platform.

"congratulations to all of you for making it through the second game," the square guard spoke, their voice void of any emotion. "here are the results of the second game."

the guard raised an arm to the ceiling and clicked a button. the room darkened, the only light coming from the now-lit piggybank hanging from the ceiling. it cast a warm glow over the cold, sterile room, highlighting the shadows in everyone's face, the bags under their eyes. you watched with bated breath as money continued to drop in, your eyes widening as the digital jingle played in time with the numbers flashing on the main screen, the value climbing higher and higher.

"in the second game, 110 players were eliminated." the guard continued, explaining the new sum that would be split between the remaining players.

your chest tightened, something guilty and cold taking root in your heart as you processed the numbers laid out plainly for you to see. you made fists in the fabric of your sweats. it wasn't enough. not nearly enough. your mouth went dry as you listened to other players voice their anger and disbelief around you.

the square guard acknowledged their frustration, though they didn't dwell on it, pushing forward as they continue to speak, "you will now take a vote to decide whether to continue the games or not."

a hushed murmur buzzed through the crowd as everyone discussed with their respective teams and the loose alliances they'd formed over the past two days.

had it really only been two days? you felt like you'd been here for ages.

the guards wheeled out the voting booth once again. you picked at your nails, swallowed around the lump in your throat, and in an instant, just like before, you had your answer.

after a collective moment of silent deliberation, dae-ho spoke behind you, "i'm telling you. we'll get out this time." you turned to look at him, at the way he huffed in frustration, gripping the blue patch on his chest before letting it fall from his hands, staring at it like it'd personally offended him. "damn it. a marine should think strategically and know when to retreat." his voice was confident, so matter-of-fact, like nothing could change his mind.

in front of him, you felt the cold trickle of guilt run down your spine. because you knew exactly what you were going to do. you had to.

you whispered something to yourself, adding up the numbers in your head over and over again as if it'd somehow change the reality that no matter what, it just wouldn't be enough. you'd almost died twice, and it still wouldn't mean a thing if you stopped now. next to you, jung-bae did the same.

"we have to end the games here." gi-hun nodded at all of you, like he needed you all to understand. "i will help you guys out when we get out. please. trust me and support this vote." his voice was firm. a promise.

"guys, all huddle up again," dae-ho said, nodding next to you with a bright, expectant smile spread across his face. the sight made you nauseous. he stuck his arm out in the center of your circle, his eyes flicking between you and jung-bae expectantly, a determined glimmer in his eyes.

he hesitated, as did you. you saw. the two of you exchanged a look that the others didn't seem to catch, but nonetheless, you both put your hands in the circle at the same time, your mouth going dry as you failed to return dae-ho's enthusiasm.

he perked up as the final hand entered the middle of the huddle. "in 1, 2, 3..." he pushed your hands up in the air with a flourish. "victory at all costs!"

you swallowed as you let your hand fall limply to your side, staring intently at the floor. the gesture was cute, reassuring, but you knew damn well that it'd done absolutely nothing to change your mind.

unfortunately for you, you were the second one out of your team who was called up to place your vote. you followed young-il, who had voted to leave.

your whole team watched your back expectantly, as did nam-gyu. he was standing at the back of the room, waiting patiently for his turn, his whole body taut and rife with tension.

after only a moment's hestiation, you decided to just rip the bandaid off. you slammed the 'o' button quickly, as if doing it fast enough would prevent your team from seeing your betrayal.

you sucked in a breath as your face lit up with a flash of blue. you shrunk away from the voting booth in shame, retreating sheepishly towards the 'o' side. you couldn't bring yourself to look at the others.

watching you from just a few feet away, nam-gyu let out a shuddery breath, almost amused. it turned out that you hadn't been completely brainwashed by your team, after all.

his turn came and went. he hit the 'o' button without another thought, staring you down the whole time as he walked over and took his position with the others that'd voted to continue. you held his gaze for a few seconds before turning away, suddenly annoyed at the fact that whether you liked it or not, the two of you had agreed on something.

soon enough, the vote had ended.

"based on the majority vote, we'll proceed to the third game tomorrow," the guard announced.

the dormitory was quiet, the atmosphere heavier than before, weighed down by the betrayal displayed through the patch on your chest. the food in your hands didn't really help despite the hunger gnawing at your stomach. you toed at the ground with your shoe, feeling ashamed. but you couldn't go home. not with that money. it wouldn't have made a dent.

your own arguments died on your tongue as you looked up from the floor, chancing a glance over your shoulder where the others were eating. dae-ho caught your eyes. he'd already been looking at you, at jung-bae. you quickly snapped your head back into place. heat rose to your cheeks as you clenched your fists in your lap.

next to you, jung-bae cleared his throat. "you voted to stay, right?"

you nodded stiffly, flicking at a loose thread on your sweatshirt. "yeah."

he exhaled, rubbing the back of his head. "same."

no one else spoke.

you turned to steal another glance at dae-ho, but in that moment, he was already stomping over to the both of you, catching you in the act again.

he called out your names, a hint of frustration in his voice as he regarded the two of you. "hey. just come sit with us already."

"no, really, i'm fine right here," jung-bae mumbled. you could tell he wasn't.

"me too," you added weakly.

"oh, come on."

you watched as dae-ho practically hauled jung-bae to his feet, forcing him up before pushing him forward, not like he was putting up much of a fight.

then, dae-ho looked at you, his expression unreadable. you thought you saw a hint of disappointment there, and it made your chest sting.

then, there was a gentle hand at your side, tugging lightly at your sleeve and signalling you to get up.

"dae-ho," you sighed, feeling guilty for saying his name after what you did. "i'd really rather just sit right here."

jung-bae nodded quickly in agreement, but dae-ho continued to push him forward.

"then you two should've sat further away," he huffed.

dae-ho led jung-bae away, depositing him by the others roughly.

"it bugs me to see you sitting there so pathetically!" he said again, pausing for just a moment before he turned back to retrieve you.

his footsteps were softer as he approached for the second time, and your mouth was already forming an apology when he squatted down next to you.

he put up a hand, waving you off. "don't. it's okay," he sighed, as if he was already anticipating what you were going to say. he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. his touch was light as he patted you. "to be honest with you—the both of you—i, um. i get why you did it."

you let out a shaky breath, the guilt still weighing heavy in your chest.

when you didn't respond, he cleared his throat, lips tight as he stared at the ground in front of you. "the money wasn't enough for you, right?"

you nodded dumbly. "yeah."

you saw him nod back gently in your periphery. "the money isn't enough for me either, so when i went up to vote," he paused, his expression tight and laced with guilt as he put up a finger, "i did think about playing one more game."

you turned to him, finally letting yourself meet his eyes. slowly, you nodded back to him, thankful for his understanding, for his sensitivity, as he regarded you.

he stared back at you softly, and it made you feel warm, his comfort coming with a gentle ease. you gave him a smile, and he returned it, the moment passing between the two of you fondly. on your shoulder, he finally let the weight of his hand rest fully onto you. he gave you a reassuring squeeze that made your heart jump a little.

"i'm not sure what your situation is," he put his his hands up in the air at that, "and, of course, you don't have to tell me. i won't pry. but no matter what happens in the next game—or, uh, if there's any games after that—just... know that we'll be here for you to lean on. we'll all lean on each other as a team, and then we'll get through this, okay?"

you exhaled sharply through your nose, taking in the sincerity of his words before you responded, "thank you. really. thank you." something in you wanted to reach out and hug him. "thank you for understanding."

dae-ho opened his mouth to respond, to reassure you that there was nothing to thank him for, but then—

"hey!" jung-bae called from behind the two of you, his arms crossed grumpily when you both turned to look at him. "where's my comfort? i voted to continue, too, you know!"

behind him, gi-hun and young-il were huddled together, tight-lipped and faces blank as they watched the three of you. you felt yourself clam up again, the guilt creeping back in under the weight of their stare, under the knowledge that they'd taken you in so kindly, and you betrayed them.

dae-ho cleared his throat again, patting you once more as he rose to his feet. "come on," he said softly, the moment lost as he gestured for you to stand.

he held out a hand, and you took it, rising slowly to your feet as you steeled yourself to face the others. you hesitated, but then dae-ho's hand was pressing gently at the middle of your back, pushing you forward so you couldn't change your mind.

he leaned down so he was next to your ear, voice dropping to a whisper. "hey. the two of them might look mad right now, but i know they'll understand." he pressed his lips together as you finally stepped forward. "i'm here, too, okay?" he added quickly. "don't forget what i said. we're a team."

"thanks, dae-ho," you whispered back.

he smiled. "anytime."

you let dae-ho lead you to them, his hand finally dropping from your back as you came to a stop in front of the rest of your team. you regarded them with a duck of your head and quick apology.

soon, all of you were sitting next to each other again, the five of you silent as the group reestablished itself. you picked at your bread, not quite ready to eat. instead, you watched the back of dae-ho's head as he chewed, a small fondness blooming in your chest at your newfound friend.

nam-gyu watched the entire interaction from across the room, jaw clenched so tight that he might crack a tooth. his eyes were wide and unblinking, almost burning with the intensity that he was staring the two of you down with.

his fingers tapped against his knee, sharp, restless movements, a stark contrast to the relaxed slouch he was forcing himself into.

what the fuck was that?

his eyes burned as they stayed locked onto you and dae-ho. he watched you as you finally opened up your bread, chewing slowly. in front of you, dae-ho seemed to remember something before turning around and catching your attention.

he spoke. you laughed. a real laugh, not a forced one. and he saw it, the way that you leaned in just slightly, like you actually gave a shit about what he said, the way dae-ho had looked at you—was still looking at you—like you were someone he wanted to protect.

his hand on your shoulder. on your back. his face pressed right next to yours as he whispered something, low and inaudible.

it was unbearable.

it was fucking humiliating.

and yet, he couldn't tear his eyes away.

even now, you still hadn't made an attempt to search the room, to try and find him in the crowd.

she was mine.

the thought bubbled to the surface before he could stop it, before he could squish it down and pretend that this didn't matter, that you didn't matter.

he hated how pathetic the thought sounded, wincing at it even though it only existed in the privacy of his own head.

still, it wasn't wrong. you had been his. he'd been yours. maybe he still was. and now? now you were sitting next to some random guy, talking, laughing, staring down at him like nam-gyu never even existed.

and the worst part? he couldn't do shit about it.

not in front of all these people.

not when he was supposed to be acting like he didn't care.

from here, he was able to get the full view of your team. and of course, just his luck, the guy that'd shut down thanos, that'd kicked him to the ground in front of everyone—in front of you—was sitting at the very back of the group, like some kind of guard dog.

his fingers curled into fists.

"oi, nam-su," a voice interrupted.

he barely registered it at first, but then thanos clapped a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts.

nam-gyu forced himself to glance up, schooling his face into something neutral, so lost and disoriented from the sickening display before him that he didn't even notice that thanos had fucked up his name. again. "huh?"

thanos was looking at him like he'd been talking for a while. "you even listening? i said mg coin's full of shit."

nam-gyu followed his gaze. mg coin—myung-gi—whatever, was sitting with his own team, laughing about something.

thanos sneered. "look at him. laughing like he has the right to. like he didn't fuck me over." he nodded at nam-gyu, eyes lingering on myung-gi before finally turning to him. "let's jump him," he muttered. "but not when that fucker's looking." he looked up again, gesturing with his chin across the room. nam-gyu turned, eyes landing on your corner yet again, at the old man that'd stopped them the first time they tried to get back at myung-gi.

nam-gyu just nodded absently, his mind still somewhere else.

it took a moment to realize something, his eyes drifting back down to dae-ho—this was the perfect opportunity.

if he could get thanos on his side, maybe he could get rid of dae-ho, break him down and convince him to stay the fuck away from you. he wasn't sure exactly how he'd do it, but it was a start. two people were always going to be better than one.

he straightened, his gaze darkening as he leaned forward, scooting closer to thanos.

"hey," he said, tone casual. "you know that guy in front of him? the one with the ponytail who's choking down his bread like a pig?" nam-gyu gestured with his neck, maintaining eye contact with thanos.

thanos raised a brow, eyes flicking down to nam-gyu and then back up again. "what about him?"

nam-gyu exhaled sharply, shaking his head and forcing some frustration in his voice. "he's annoying as hell. i was listening to him earlier when he was talking to his team. looks like he's all buddy-buddy with those old guys." he nibbled his lip, trying to figure out how he could spin this, how he could get thanos to hate him, too. "including the one that was giving you shit earlier." thanos narrowed his eyes at that, showing that he was listening but not exactly following. "the dude thinks he's hot shit just because he was in the fucking marines, or whatever."

thanos hummed in acknowledgement, unimpressed. "yeah? so?"

nam-gyu floundered, wires crossing in his brain. he was losing him. he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so the others couldn't hear, a last ditch effort. "i don't trust him. he's always trying to act all high and mighty, all noble and shit, like he's better than us. like he's not just as fucked as we are."

thanos didn't look convinced. he shrugged, leaning back against the bed rail. in that moment, nam-gyu knew he lost him.

"he's just some guy. who cares?" thanos turned his head in dismissal, his gaze straying to myung-gi yet again. nam-gyu watched his face shift into something hateful and mean.

the sentiment was right, but it was aimed at the wrong target.

nam-gyu grit his teeth, fingers twitching against his knee.

he wanted thanos to fucking care.

wanted thanos to hate dae-ho as much as he suddenly, violently, and irrationally did.

but thanos wasn't biting.

his focus was elsewhere—on myung-gi, on his own anger, his own grudges. sure, nam-gyu was pissed at myung-gi, too, hated him, even, but at least myung-gi wasn't out here whispering in your ear, staring at you all sweet and kind, acting like he had the right to touch you. the thought made his blood boil all over again.

one last attempt rose from his lips like a signal flare. it sounded stupid in his head, but he had to try.

"he said your hair was stupid," nam-gyu blurted out. his voice was at a normal volume this time, and the rest of his team looked over, confused.

at that, thanos's head snapped back, his eyebrows going up again. "he did?"

nam-gyu nodded wildly. "yeah, yeah, he did. he was laughing with that old dude, and everything." after a pause, he quickly added, "when you weren't listening, i heard it. they were all making fun of you, that guy especially. i would've said something, but—"

thanos silenced him with a hand, and for a moment, it just hung in the air. nam-gyu held his breath. then, both of his hands came up to frame both sides of his hair, fingers going up to shape the purple strands back up into place, like little horns.

"no one," he started, a little frown coming to tug at his lips, "makes fun of thanos the great's hair."

holy shit.

nam-gyu bit back a smile, trying not to seem as excited as he was. "yeah, i agree." he gestured with his head again, his hair whipping around his face with the wild, sudden movement. "wanna jump him, too?"

thanos brushed him off, still fixing his hair. maybe he'd pushed just a bit too far just a bit too soon.

"relax, nam-su." he was still watching myung-gi out of the corner of his eye, neck flexing tight with tension once again at the mere sight of him. "i've got some other shit to worry about, right now."

"nam-gyu," he muttered.

it looked like he had no choice but to drop it. for now.

but his mind was already racing, already plotting.

he didn't know how yet, didn't know when—but he was gonna get you away from dae-ho. one way or another.

the men's bathroom was full, accompanied by the expected din of streams hitting porcelain, stall doors slamming shut, and toilets flushing. a little pocket of normalcy amidst the chaos.

myung-gi stared down, concentrated on his task. then, he felt it.

a presence.

three, actually.

he barely had time to register the movement before thanos and nam-gyu stepped in on either side of him, boxing him in at the urinal. behind him, gyeong-su stood with his arms at his sides, silent and uncertain, but still present.

myung-gi pressed his lips together tightly, the air suddenly turning suffocating.

it didn't take much guessing to know where this interaction was going to go. there was an exchange of words, of uncomfortable stares, of barely disguised aggression—mostly on thanos's part—and then, finally, in a sudden burst of anger, thanos was slamming myung-gi against the tile, his other arm reeled back and ready to go.

"you son of a bitch. got a death wish?"

nam-gyu watched it happen from a distance, a little bit of his earlier frustration slipping away at the sight of myung-gi getting tormented.

then, as if on cue, the entrance to the bathroom opened, and—of fucking course. he was there.

a tiny little ponytail bobbed into view, perched perfectly at the top of his head.

nam-gyu's eye twitched.

"i didn't even eat anything, so why..." jung-bae trailed off, young-il and dae-ho following behind him.

thanos stopped, eyes instantly locking with young-il's. the latter regarded him sternly. a silent challenge. thanos was an absolute moron, sure, but he knew when to call it quits.

he stood there for a few moments, gripping myung-gi with a tightness that said this wasn't over, eyes glaring daggers into his face one last time before shoving him back. his body jerked, but he held thanos's gaze, chest heaving as he watched him turn away.

"i'm watching you," thanos muttered in english, lips tight with anger.

nam-gyu lingered for a moment as he watched the exchange, unwilling to move just yet.

his eyes flitted right to dae-ho, to the way he was staring at him and thanos, like they were beneath him. like they were scum. like he was gonna fucking do something about it.

thanos took a few casual step forward, retreating. then, he paused, eyes landing on dae-ho. his mind buffered for a moment, as if recalling something.

there was a flash of recognition as his peanut brain grasped at a memory, at what nam-gyu had said less than thirty minutes ago. at that, he leaned backwards just slightly, giving himself enough space to size dae-ho up with a lazy flick of his eyes. their heights were matched, perfectly at eye level with each other.

in front of him, dae-ho straightened, standing up just a little taller, as if anticipating a fight. jung-bae and young-il watched, eyes narrowed and muscles taut, unsure of what to expect in the coming moments.

then—

"tch," thanos clicked his tongue, cutting through the tension. he regarded dae-ho with a flippant look as he tilted his head, unimpressed. "so. you're the one whose got some shit to say about my hair, huh?"

dae-ho balked, confusion leaking into his expression. the others looked just as confused, save for nam-gyu. whatever they all thought thanos was going to say, it definitely wasn't that.

the silence stretched for a few beats too long, and it struck dae-ho that it was his turn to speak, but he wasn't sure what the hell he was supposed to say to that.

his voice came out awkward, the tension that'd been simmering in his muscles just moments before fizzling out with nowhere to go. "um... no?"

"you think you can switch up the story now that i'm standing right in front of you?" thanos shook his head, his jaw tight and indignant as he pointed over to nam-gyu and gyeong-su. at that, nam-gyu tensed, exchanging a look with dae-ho for the first time ever. caught in a lie. he hadn't expected thanos to supply dae-ho with a source. "my bro told me everything, so don't even try it." he scoffed. "do you know who i am, man?" he pressed closer into dae-ho's space, but dae-ho didn't tense, just glanced between them incredulously, like they'd suddenly grown an extra head.

to nam-gyu's left, gyeong-su decided to speak for the first time in this whole bathroom exchange, answering the question for dae-ho. "he's thanos, the rapper!" his voice went up a few octaves at the opportunity, almost excited as he moved his hands and started to rap for the second time that day. "i'm gonna kill half of humanity with my raps—"

nam-gyu quickly silenced him—again—with a quick tap to the shoulder.

thanos paid them no mind, just shook his head as he narrowed his eyes at dae-ho, judging him. his hand came up to quickly flick at a flyaway strand of hair by dae-ho's brow, making him flinch just slightly, though it was out of surprise rather than fear.

"sloppy," thanos said in english. "worry about yourself before you say anything about me." then, after a a moment, he pointed at him, a ringed finger waggling just inches away from his face. "i'm watching you, too."

then, without another word, he pushed his way through the door.

nam-gyu watched him go. it was his cue to leave, too. he walked over, forcing his back up straighter, trying to appear bigger and taller than he really was. he locked eyes with dae-ho, a sneer plastered across his face, a clear display of his hatred. there was no hiding it now, anyways, what with the way thanos had outed him as a liar that made shit up for his own gain.

dae-ho narrowed his eyes in confusion, opened his mouth as if to speak, to question where the hell this was all coming from.

nam-gyu hated it, the way he was looking at him, the way he'd been looking at you, and most of all, fuck, he hated that stupid. fucking. ponytail.

he bet that dae-ho thought it was cute, too, thought he was so fucking different.

big fucking deal.

he wasn't special. nam-gyu's hair was long enough to put into a ponytail, too. not like you'd ever fucking asked him to. but he would. all you had to do was ask.

but you were too busy drooling over dae-ho to do so.

and somehow, despite it all, despite all the things that'd been piling up throughout the day, simmering just beneath the surface and boiling his blood, that was the thought that really sent him over the edge. it was irrational, stupid, pathetic, really, just how jealous he was over absolutely nothing.

just before dae-ho could speak, nam-gyu made sure to shove into him—hard.

the impact was enough to send dae-ho stumbling, his back hitting the wall with an audible thump.

for a moment, the bathroom went completely still.

dae-ho blinked, his expression shocked, like he wasnt' sure if that really just happened.

nam-gyu didn't stop to look back.

he just walked out, feeling a sick, burning satisfaction settling deep in his chest. gyeong-su trailed quickly after him, eager to catch up to thanos, a confused, shocked expression on his face that mirrored dae-ho's perfectly.

dae-ho stayed against the wall for a second, like he was still processing it. the weight of nam-gyu's deliberate shove lingered on his chest, not physically painful but unmistakably intentional.

and earlier—thanos had accused dae-ho of insulting him, said he'd heard it from his 'bro.' based on nam-gyu and gyeong-su's body language, it was pretty easy for him to deduce who thanos had been referring to.

but... why?

next to him, jung-bae frowned. "what the hell was that about?"

dae-ho shook his head, straightening up as he brushed himself off. his fingers flexed at his sides, like he was working through the instinct to retaliate. "i don't know," he muttered. "guess he just doesn't like me."

myung-gi, still standing in front of them, watched the door where nam-gyu and thanos disappeared, though he didn't say anything.

"are those guys still bullying you?" jung-bae asked.

"hey," dae-ho started, pushing forward so he was right in front of myung-gi. "if those guys keep doing that, you can ask us for our help." clearly, they'd even decided to start bullying him, too.

"i'm fine," he replied, eyebrows going up before he turned away.

and just like that, it ended, the former excitement simmering down slowly. the crowd slowly dispersed, and soon the normal bathroom activites continued, acclimating around the sudden interruption.

dae-ho stood at a urinal, mind still reeling from confusion, from frustration. what the hell had he done to those guys? he knew he should let it go—ignore it, not let them get under his skin. but the way nam-gyu had clearly lied to thanos to stir something up, the way he'd looked at him before shoving him with nothing but sheer bitterness in his eyes—it was too much for him to pass off as random.

it was personal.

and dae-ho had no idea why.

meanwhile, nam-gyu walked ahead of gyeong-su, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, fingers curling and uncurling around nothing as he made his way back to the rest of their team.

he glanced over to your corner for just a second.

you saw him. he saw you.

his lips twitched just a fraction before he sat down, forcing himself to look at the ground.

when dae-ho emerged from the bathroom, his mind was still reeling with unresolved tension. he walked up to you and gi-hun, young-il and jung-bae in tow.

he was still thinking about it.

you looked up at him with a polite smile. "hey."

"hey," he returned, sounding far away.

you blinked, confused by his sudden shift in demeanor. "you okay?"

he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he brushed back a strand—the same strand that thanos had flicked just moments earlier.

"actually," he started, turning to look at nam-gyu. he leaned towards you, taking his seat before dropping his voice to a whisper. "that guy, right there."

dae-ho pointed gingerly, careful not to be too obvious. your eyes traced the path of his finger, breath catching as you realized who he was referring to.

your stomach clenched. what did he do?

he waited for your acknowledgement. when it didn't come, he continued, "uh, the guy with the long hair, mean face, 124 on his shirt—"

"yeah," you mumbled, waving him along. "i see him."

dae-ho nodded, though you didn't see, too focused on nam-gyu. he was slouched over by his team, arms crossed casually as he leaned back against the steps.

"i think he's got something against me." he gestured with his chin, his voice wary. "his friend, too. the rapper guy."

"uh-huh."

dae-ho shook his head, throwing his hands up in frustration. "i've never even talked to them. i don't know what the hell i did to make them hate me." he turned to you. "124... do you know his name?"

"nam-gyu." his name instantly fell from your lips before you could stop it, before you could feign ignorance. you quickly recovered. "or. that's... what i've heard," you mumbled. "i'm pretty sure that's his name, though."

dae-ho nodded. if he noticed your sudden unease, he didn't say anything. "nam-gyu," he repeated, eyes narrowing as he stared at him.

you cleared your throat, trying to sound casual, like you were just curious. nothing more. you brought a hand up to your face, covering your mouth before you spoke. "so, uh. what'd he do?"

"he shoved me. for no reason! i didn't even say anything." dae-ho shook his head, remembering. he continued, "and apparently he told his friend that i made fun of his hair." you raised an eyebrow at that. "i would never make fun of his hair. i mean, my older sister colored hers purple two years ago." dae-ho clicked his tongue, brows furrowing as he pouted. "i thought it looked cool."

you were thankful for the hand covering your mouth, because as soon as he finished, you were struggling to bite back a laugh.

despite how well he seemed to hide it, how well he seemed to pretend that he didn't care, nam-gyu was watching you. watching him. sitting there, stewing in silent anger, even if he wouldn't let it show.

even after all this time.

what a petty asshole.

and the fact that a small part of you liked it—knowing that he still cared enough about you to do childish shit like this? oh, it made you sick.

the room eventually settled into an uneasy quiet as the guards ordered the players to prepare for sleep.

soon enough, the overhead lights dimmed, leaving a faint, eerie glow behind.

time passed. minutes stretched into an hour.

you stared up at the bottom of the bed, exhaustion weighing heavy on your bones, but sleep still didn't come easy. gi-hun had insisted all of you sleep this way, beneath a bed and behind a fortress of mattresses. someone always had to be keeping watch.

you were busy thinking about how silly it seemed when it suddenly struck you—you really, really needed to pee.

lucky you.

you shifted uncomfortably, trying to will the feeling away.

when you failed to do so, you let out a sigh of defeat before pushing yourself up by your elbows. you peered over from under your bed. it was dae-ho’s turn to watch. you still didn’t understand why it was necessary, but you decided not to question it.

you quietly got up, gently tapping dae-ho on the shoulder so as not to startle him.

he looked up at you, a bit surprised. the sharpness of his cheekbones highlighted by the dim glow of the piggy bank.

“going to the bathroom,” you whispered, mouthing the words more than anything.

“oh, uh, let me accompany you—“ dae-ho made a move to stand up, but you stopped him.

“no, it’s okay.” you smiled. “thank you, though.” you didn’t want to bother him.

he paused, searching your face with uncertainty, like he was debating whether or not it was really 'okay'. “are you sure? it could be dangerous walking around alone right now. i don't think it's safe for you to go alone.”

“please, don't worry. i’m sure." you were certain you could, at the very least, handle a trip to the bathroom, though you definitely appreciated the gesture.

after a pause, he nodded, albeit still hesitant. "okay. be careful."

you laughed lightly. "sure. i'll try not to drown in the toilet."

that earned you a soft, sheepish smile, but after a moment, dae-ho furrowed his brows, showing you that he still meant it. "come on, i'm serious. gi-hun seemed serious about all of this." he gestured around at the mattresses boxing your team in.

you waved him off. "i'll be careful."

he finally let you go. slowly, you made your way to the door, not wanting to disturb the other players.

you knocked gently on the door. when no response came, you knocked again, more forceful this time, though you winced with each sound.

finally, you came face-to-face with a guard.

“i need to go to the bathroom.”

the black mask stared wordlessly back at you. as the silence stretched on for too long, you felt a prickle of anxiety.

there was no way they weren’t going to let you go to the bathroom, right?

your question was promptly answered with a smooth click as the guard slid the peephole shut. you stood there, mouth agape and eyes wide with indignance. a beat or two passed, just enough time for your anger to build. all discretions gone, you exhaled sharply and banged on the door, no longer wincing with every loud sound that echoed through the dormitory.

you could’ve died twice.

you weren't about to let them bully you into fucking pissing yourself.

“hey, what the hell?” your voice rose, tinged with anger and disbelief. “are you just gonna leave me out here?” once again, the only answer to your disdain was an oppressive silence. “fuck.” you hissed under your breath, your body shaking with barely contained anger. “fine. if you won’t let me go to the bathroom, i guess I’ll just do it out here—“

when the door suddenly slid open, you flinched, stunned for a moment as the blinding light flooded your vision. it seemed that your comment had gotten to the guard, after all. you recovered quickly and smiled at the expressionless black mask staring back at you, feeling more than a little triumphant. you moved quickly, feet crossing the threshold with your nose in the air.

you climbed the stairs quickly, desperate to get in and out.

the entrance to the women's bathroom came into view, and you let out an audible sigh as you pushed through.

you were barely through the door when you felt it—a sudden rush of contact at your back as you were practically shoved inside. you stumbled, gasping as a cold hand gripped at the back of your tracksuit.

your heart raced, sweat prickling the back of your neck as panic bloomed in your chest. you had been careful not to piss anyone off. you hadn’t talked to anyone outside of your team, really. there was no one who had a reason to be shoving you like this, to be following you. no one except—

you whipped around quickly, jerking out of the person’s hold and stumbling a bit as you struggled to keep your balance in light of the sudden unease overtaking your system.

you opened your mouth to speak, to yell, but everything you might’ve thought to say immediately died on your tongue.

nam-gyu’s eyes were intense, filled with a swirl of emotions as he fixed you with a hardened stare. his breathing was measured and even, hands hanging casually at his sides.

“hey.”

his voice was rough, gravelly. deep. a sound that cut right through you and settled into your bones. and for the first time in forever, his words were directed at you. not overheard from a distance or relayed through a third party. it was just you and him in this shitty bathroom in the middle of god knows where.

your mind went blank, your tongue suddenly feeling too big for your mouth as you stared at him, lips slightly parted as you struggled to form thoughts.

“what?” his mouth twitched. almost a smirk, almost a sneer, but he kept his face neutral, not wanting to betray his emotions just yet. “not gonna say hi?” you saw his fingers curl and uncurl around nothing at his sides. he'd never been good at staying still for too long.

he was right, though.

you weren’t gonna fucking say ‘hi.’

© to @namgyunation on tumblr; do not repost

ao3 link, if you’d prefer to read it over there

a/n: part two coming (hopefully) soon. as always my inbox is open for any thoughts, comments, rqs, etc.!!!! also, i was going nuts watching episode 4 and 5 over and over again so i could get the canon interactions and dialogue right LMAO. also. in-ho is referred to as young-il in this fic and will continue to be, bc he's just not really relevant to the plot and ik y'all know who he really is ok....

[moonlight-prose]

mr. perfectly fine

a/n: i've had this in my drafts since i saw the trailer of we live in time. and honestly it was basically done, so i don't know why i didn't just drop it. so this is me digging it back up and putting some finishing touches on this quick drabble of angst. it's small, but writing it really made me want to re-watch the movies. so we'll see if anything comes from that. for now though, enjoy!

summary: there's a lot you would change in your relationship with peter. how late he'd show up to dates, the massive amount of missed calls and texts, and his forgetfulness. only there's a defining factor that might shift the entire trajectory of your lives together. peter parker was spider-man...and you didn't know.

word count: 2.3k+

pairing: peter parker x reader

warnings: not explicit, angsty as fuck though, peter gets dumped (sorta) but it doesn't last long, lots of tears, secrets exposed, fluff, forgiveness.

New York always seemed to reflect your emotions with ease. Like a mirror you couldn't break, or even avoid. Maybe it happened because you were looking for it without realizing; searching for answers to the never-ending questions that nagged at you. Different ways to work out the equations that held no solutions. A new way of figuring it out.

Yet no matter how many trials you ran, how many times you inputted the numbers, you seemed to always find yourself staring at the one thing that made sense. ERROR.

You counted the times he stood you up, tracked the calls he missed and the texts he only read but never answered. You compiled them like research, as if you were stuck in your lab and he was the experiment. He became the hypothesis you had to back up with well crafted proof. Only science never helped in situations of love. And you found that counting the days, watching the minutes and seconds go by, only made things worse.

The dinner went cold an hour ago, the candles snuffed, and the soft love songs were traded out for something sadder. Like other nights, you half expected you'd see him in the early hours of dawn. The glow of sunrise illuminating him like your very own hero, your favorite person to exist.

Every other time you chose to forget, to move on with your time together and find something happy to focus on. But tonight's calendar had been marked. A red heart written around your initials.

One that he wrote.

Six months passed in the blink of an eye.

Where you used to be awkward—barely able to speak to each other—now you found comfort in the silence. But when the quiet gave way to loneliness, you felt yourself begin to slowly chip away. You always thought he'd be here to put you back together, to save you in moments of brief darkness that left you wandering this shared path alone.

Yet when the clock finally struck midnight, and you were three glasses of wine in, you felt the final thread of hope snap.

You sighed, the burn of tears spilling over as you swallowed the last of your drink. "Happy Anniversary Peter," you muttered, getting up from the table.

The rain outside pounded against the asphalt. Wet streets glimmered with street lights and smelled of discarded cigarette butts. You wrapped the buckle around your waist tight enough to close up what parts of the coat gaped on your body. The dark charcoal wool fabric didn't belong to you. It lingered with Peter's scent, but you couldn't find yours as you rushed out the door.

You didn't want to stay in that apartment longer than necessary.

Perhaps you should have left some message behind—let him know that eventually you'd be back for your things. Somewhere in the back of your mind you understood what tonight was. A defining moment in your relationship. A chance for him to finally pull his act together and be with you.

Yet like everything else...you'd be simply another thing he'd have to let go of.

He wouldn't have a choice.

The salt of your tears mixed with the drops of rain that streamed down your face. You welcomed it as you walked. There wasn't a defining spot you were going—no grand plan once this came to pass. But somehow you wound up in a park, staring at a bench, and picturing a past version of yourself. Nose buried in a science book and lunch propped on your knees. You could see how Peter rushed by, how he nearly broke his neck turning to look at you.

You watched the moment happen all over again right before you. And for the first time in two months, you wanted to stop him.

The door opened with the usual creak. He winced at the noise with the memory of saying he'd fix it eventually. The DW-40 sat under the sink where he picked it up, never getting around to actually completing the job. Simply another let down that he'd never live down.

You said it was alright; claimed that the squeak gave the front door character. And that might have been true.

It still didn't stop Peter from beating himself up over it.

"Babe! I grabbed some food on the way home. Got your favorite." He stuffed his mask in his backpack, discarding it in the hallway as he went. The suit still clung to his already soaked body, but he hoped you wouldn't pick up on the peek of red beneath his clothes.

The plan to tell you was coming together nicely. A romantic dinner on the top of the Empire State after hours surely would give you a chance to think things over. He just had to work out the logistics of setting up everything with the security guard he befriended.

"Also I remembered to ask May about dinner in two weeks-"

He froze at the sight of the dark living room, of the table decorated with candles and plates filled with food. Very little scared the ever living shit out of him now. A familiar territory of adrenaline he’d come to welcome. But the sight of the calendar placed on his chair—the red heart blaring like a signal in the night sky—had his heart dropping to his stomach.

"No..." The food was forgotten about, dropped on the counter as he picked up the offending piece of paper. The clear mark around the date drawn by him two weeks earlier. A reminder to let him know that of all days...he couldn't forget this one.

He couldn't let you down again.

The clock in the corner read ten thirty and his heart lurched at the sudden realization that you finally did it. You gave up on his antics. All the moments he couldn't fix himself. You chose yourself over the madness of loving him. He wasn't sure which was wore. You not being here to give him a chance of groveling on his knees, or the silence in the apartment at knowing that your laughter and love would never fill it again.

He didn't have time to rationalize his decisions. Barely even noticed that he was walking out the door—the loud bang echoing in the hallway—as he went. Somewhere in the city you were mourning a relationship he was determined to fix. Yet he couldn't figure out where the hell to start looking.

This wasn't the first fight you'd had. The first time you left the apartment he found you in a hole in the wall cafe. A place he'd never even heard of before. And after three cups of coffee, a long night of talking, you both agreed to work on the communication. To heal what small wound had been opened.

Only this time was different.

This time the wound festered, grew to the point of being fatal.

This time he wasn't sure he could heal what he already broke.

His web clung to the building as he swung, landing five feet away from the already darkened cafe. Much to his own detriment you didn't bother to try getting out of the rain.

A crackle of lightning echoed in the night sky, thunder rolling in a few seconds later. It covered the sound of him nearly collapsing to the ground as a car swerved by—the horn blaring in his ears. The calendar was tucked in his jacket pocket, the ink bleeding through the soggy paper. But he refused to let it go. He couldn't. That was his final piece of you—the last moniker of a relationship that was worth it.

He only hoped you felt the same.

"Where are you baby?" he muttered under his breath.

After checking your favorite diner, bar, and bookshop. He was starting to run out of options. Almost as if you simply up and vanished from the city entirely.

You didn't want to be found. Yet Peter knew he wouldn't be able to live without you. How could he? When the chance of getting a peek at your smile was worth waking up early in the morning to see you off for work. Little moments of joy kept him going. And nearly all of his were spent with you. Each laugh, kiss, and look, were his to keep.

His to protect.

And he'd fucked all of that up.

Time passed quicker than he would have liked. The rain beat down on his body and he could no longer discern between his tears and the water. Still he searched. He checked every nook and cranny of spots you shared together.

Until the park came into his view atop a random apartment building. His heart leapt in his chest, body thrumming with nervous energy, as he swung down to the mushy grass that squelched beneath his sneakers. The cold shouldn't have made his hands tremble. Although perhaps the weather had nothing to do with what made his stomach twist, body overwhelmed with a fear he might never understand.

He knew why he shook like a leaf. He could feel the nerves beat alongside his heart, echoing his earlier sentiment throughout his entire body.

Letting you down this time wasn't a chance he was willing to take.

"Baby!" he called, running past low lit sidewalks and darkened tree lines. He ran until he felt the cold sting of rain on his face—until his clothes dripped water and the soles of his shoes were puddles.

Only to pause at the sight of a hunched over figure on a bench, their hands gripping the edge of the wood, and shoulders shaking with each stunted breath. Peter's heart tore into pieces. Fluttering to the ground as he stepped closer. Simply a flimsy piece of that ruined calendar. He could hear your sobs, smell the salt of your tears, and that broke him beyond repair.

He did this.

He took the most important person in his life and ripped them a part.

"I'm sorry," he said over the rain, catching the way you jumped—your eyes wide and lips swollen from where you bit down on them.

"Peter-"

Before you could get out the words to dismiss him. He dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands pressing into either side of the bench. Caging you in. This wasn't a chance for him to grovel, to give excuse after excuse. He’d passed that point months before. This was him finally letting you into the final piece of his life—the truth he wanted to shout from the rooftops if it meant getting a chance to see you smile again.

Fuck he'd give anything to see you smile.

"There's no good excuse okay? I don't have one. I'm just sorry." You sighed, moving to unlatch his grip. Only to find you couldn't get him to budge. "I don't want to keep hurting you. So if after this, you wanna go then you can go. I won't stop you, or call you, or even ask you back."

"Don't-"

He shifted closer, surprising you as his speed. "Just know I love you. I'll love you forever baby."

"Peter what are you doing?"

With a sharp gulp of air, he stripped off his jacket and t-shirt. They fell to the ground with a went plop as silence wrapped around the both of you. For a moment, he wondered if you'd take him seriously. Maybe you'd laugh. Maybe you'd leave him faster than before. But you simply stared at him—mouth parted and eyes wide as you took in the spider emblem sewn in his chest.

He coughed, shoving his wet hair out of his face. "This isn't how I wanted to tell you. The dinner with May was actually gonna be me telling you on top of the Empire State Building-"

"That's why you always forget the milk," you murmured, glancing to the side—a dazed expression now donning your face.

"What?"

"Every time I ask you to pick something up from the store at night. You never remember."

Heat spread rapidly across his cheeks. A red flush he knew was bright against the light on the sidewalk. "I don't always forget."

Rainfall filled the void of silence as you dragged your eyes along each web, the itch of your fingers too much to take—finally pressing them along the ridged fabric you’d only seen in blurry newspaper images. A mark that all of New York came to see as hope. The promise that for once in their lives they would be safe on streets known for violence and horrors.

You tried to wrap your head around the truth, pressing a thumb into the spider carved directly above a heart you knew was too good to be true. One that beat in time with yours, a familiar thudding echo you fell asleep to each night pressed tight to one ear. Peter was that man, the savior of a home you couldn’t see yourself leaving, the hero you’d only heard stories about.

“I guess this complicates things,” you finally mumbled, hand finding his chin soaked by the rain.

His sigh bled into the air, filling your lungs with the air you struggled to find. “Does that mean…you’re staying?”

“I’m just glad you weren’t cheating on me.”

Peter laughed, surging up with a speed you’d never witnessed before. “Never.”

His lips were cold against yours, gloved hands rough against the skin of your cheek, but the taste of him was the same. The man who asked for a chance in this park, promising to make your life interesting despite the chaos he dragged atop shoulders stronger than others. He carried the world with ease. Now it was your turn to do the same for him.

“So what’s it like dating Spider-Man?” you mumbled against his lips.

He grinned, pulling you up with an arm around your waist. “Free transportation.”

“Anytime I want?”

Thumbing the top of your cheek he pushed what tears remained aside. “For the rest of your life. If you want it.”

Oh how you loved him.

“I want it.”

[dreamsofbroflovski]

CRAIG CRAIG CRAIG CRAIG W FEM BODIED READER I BEG PLEASE GO WILD

I do believe I did, in fact, go wild.

Seemingly contrary to popular demand, the (first) Craig fic is here! Have one more already in drafts.

I'm still writing slow apparently

Pastor!Craig Tucker x Succubus!Reader - match made in hell

Also available on ao3!

Summary: What was supposed to be a normal night of feeding for one powerful succubus turns into much more when she runs into Craig Tucker, a simple pastor from a small town - allegedly.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content (everyone involved is above the age of consent), Smut, Oral Sex, Deepthroating/Facefucking, Penis In Vagina Sex, Cowgirl Position, Slapping, Mentions of Alcohol, Religious Imagery and Symbolism (Portrayed NEGATIVELY - Reader is a sex demon)

A/N: Warning: If you have a particularly close and positive relationship with religion and/or get offended easily, I suggest you avoid this work. The Reader character is a sex demon, and as such, some descriptions of religion and comments on it are less than respectful. If you wanna read Craig but aren't keen on this one, I have something else prepared for him in a more light-hearted and cutesy tone coming soon (possibly next month because I do also have a request for Kyle, and Craig needs a break)

My first one of 2025. Here's to many more! I hope the person who created the concepts for Pastor Craig and Imp Tweek in the Phone Destroyer headquarters got paid HANDSOMELY. These two characters are endless mines of content for the fandom, and all the fanart people have created with them is fucking FIRE

Toc toc toc, my shoes clacked as I walked down the street in an unknown town, the repetitive sound only being broken when stepping over the still fresh tiny clumps of snow all over the ground. The cold didn’t graze my body, which was always warm and comfortable no matter the weather or outfit, and the area was empty enough at night, so I also didn’t have to deal with the usual looks of confusion people had on their faces when they saw me walking down the street in nothing but six inch heels and a strapless tube minidress.

I walked without really knowing or caring about my destination or surroundings - the workings of human geography are irrelevant to an entity of superior ranking such as myself. Being a succubus means being able to find sustenance absolutely anywhere, with my powers being able to do the whole work of charming a target that I could then fuck, their semen containing precious life energy that I fed on. Not that I needed that energy right now; it hadn’t been long since I last manifested into the Earth looking for food, which meant I was… still full, so to speak.

My presence in the human realm at all was considered abnormal. Most of my sex demon peers were mostly used to visiting humans in the form of wet dreams and taking their energy off of that. They didn’t also feed often, only doing so when they really needed to, to save themselves the trip and the hassle. As such, most of them turned their noses when seeing me making moves on the land of the living rather frequently, enjoying the thrill of the chase and taking my victims in person - usually with them ending up dead as a result; most human men couldn’t survive an actual physical encounter with a succubus, hence my colleagues’ preference for dreamwalking.

Which is probably why all of those other demons were fucking weaklings and I was the most powerful by a huge margin, but that’s a story for another time.

Soon I found myself at the entrance of an unknown tavern. It had all the airs of a place that’s trying too hard, like it was trying to cater to an audience that wasn’t its usual and was probably failing miserably on that. I already knew I had to brace myself for what I would find inside. The men that usually frequented these places usually reflected the ambience - acting all high and mighty, pretending to know more than they actually did, and like you should be grateful they’re even bothering to lend you a moment of their oh-so-important night. And I’d have to humor these types of cretins, laugh at their jokes and pretend to be smitten by their flirting, give them the satisfaction of sleeping with them. Those men were no different than the types you’d find at the run-down bars in the shittiest parts of the human world, their minds worked in the exact same way and I always found more delight in seeing their dead bodies under me than I had when actively having sex.

The thought of that delight was what gave me the patience to push through the heavy doors into the pretentious pub. Jazz music played softly on unseen speakers, but with almost no ears to appreciate it; the place was mostly empty. Just one guy sitting alone at a table in the corner looking over the window, a couple on a table closer to the entrance - the annoyed look on their faces told me I wouldn’t have the slightest hint of a problem making a move on the husband if I wanted him, and he probably wouldn’t be missed after death either - and a loner on the stools by the counter.

Immediately after I entered, the most delicious scent invaded my nostrils, overpowering all my other senses and clouding my awareness of the environment like a purple-ish haze. My kind is able to feel the sexual energy flowing through human beings, much like a predator can smell its prey. It is usually different from person to person, sometimes mouth-watering, sometimes repulsive, but it always has the same effect of drawing us in and making us aware of possible targets. Some humans have more energy than others, more impacting and flavorful scents - those are what their kind would usually see as sexually superior, the ones with lots of stamina and a sensual aura that cannot be ignored, an information that is not necessarily attached to their physical appearance. Never quite to the level of us succubi, but those individuals usually did make for tasty meals.

Whoever was exuding this smell, however, was on another echelon entirely. I didn’t think I had ever felt that much sexual aura emanating from one single person, and I had come across many powerful examples. Being with someone like this would no doubt be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, both in the matter of power intake from the feeding and sexual gratification of the act itself. It was like a complete banquet had been placed right under my face, and all it would take for me to feast was seducing one insignificant human male, a task I knew I had in the bag.

My head turned in the direction the smell was coming from, an almost automatic movement, instincts taking over to more easily get to my prey. Immediately my brain identified the target, the guy at the counter, nursing a glass of something all by himself. It was a young man, possibly in what would be the early to mid twenties in a human lifespan. The most ridiculous blue chullo hat covered his hair, and honestly it had me confused for a second on how a guy wearing something like that could have such a powerful aura. The rest of his outfit was mostly normal - run-of-the-mill dark blue jeans, a black blazer fully open at the front, well-shined dress shoes on his feet. Overall very unassuming. Had it not been for the full black collar shirt with the white detail on the front of the neck, I might’ve not even realized that the man was a pastor.

Not that it was a problem. I had been with religious leaders many times, and this one definitely wouldn’t be the last. For all their hatred for demons and their efforts to steer the ‘sheep’, as they called it, away from temptation, they were always particularly easy to seduce - a whole life built on self-imposed abstinence often made for extremely frustrated men who could never put up a fight against my sensual charms, their pent-up sexual energy bursting to the forefront at the first opportunity. Admittedly, it was actually kind of fun; seeing the desperation behind their eyes as they struggled to keep their cool and remind themselves of their vows to whatever deity they worshiped, the hypocrisy they exhibited when finally running their disgusting hands all over my skin, and their completely drained bodies when it was all over. Every single one of them had died under me.

Licking my lips over the perspective of an easy full meal, I made my way to the counter across the door, taking the free seat to the right of the pastor, balancing myself on the flimsy bar stool and checking him out through the corner of my eye. From most men, I got feedback right upon arrival, and it could come either in the form of a quick glance or a full-blown stare, depending on how smitten and desperate the guy was. The one on my left, however, barely flinched, not even the usual reaction associated with having someone sit right beside you when everywhere else is empty. He just took another sip off his glass, his eyes fixed on the shelves of beverages in front of us, physically seeing them but clearly not committing anything to memory.

Weird behaviour, but fine by me. Even if he might act a little odd, the only thing I wanted from this man was his energy, and that he clearly had to spare. So it was worth taking the lead and forcing him to pay attention to me. I leaned towards him, expecting that to create some sort of movement from him, but he did absolutely nothing. So I touched his shoulder lightly, forcing his brain to acknowledge my presence, even if his body wouldn’t show it.

Putting on my most demure and soft voice, I spoke to him in a low volume. “Excuse me, sir, can you call the bartender for me? I don’t think he’s seen me here yet.” Total bullshit. The place was almost empty and everyone who was present saw me enter, the only reason I hadn’t been served so far was because I literally didn’t give anyone any time to.

The pastor simply lifted his hand in silence, still not looking at me, and the aforementioned bartender came rather quickly, introducing himself and the place, clearly already entranced by my presence and affected by my love charm. Unfortunately - or fortunately? - for him, he wasn’t my target. I ordered a B-52; just a simple shot, so I could maybe strike a conversation over it with the guy sitting beside me, or at least buy myself some time to come up with another excuse.

“Hey, you’re a pastor, right?” I pointed to the collar of his shirt, feigning ignorance, “Why are you at a bar?”

The guy took another sip of his drink - now that I was up close, I could see it was a glass of plain whiskey. When he opened his mouth to speak, I felt his energy all over again - his voice was deep and devoid of all emotion, but extremely hot to the ears. “If you had to constantly deal with the people of this town, you’d drink too.”

I forced my mind to stop thinking about how sexy he sounded and focus on his actual words. Jaded, like everything else about his demeanor. “Sure, but I didn’t know y’all could drink,” I retorted, chuckling a bit to emphasize the unseriousness of my comment, “Isn’t that forbidden or something?”

“Jesus turned water to wine,” the pastor shrugged.

The finger that had drawn attention to his collar now pointed to his glass. “Wine, not whisky.”

“It’s all alcohol anyway.”

And that’s what truly mattered to him, apparently.

My shot glass arrived and I downed it quickly, suppressing a smirk as I heard the guy speak again, of his own accord this time. “I have never seen you before,” his comment felt slightly funny, considering he hadn’t looked at me at all yet, “And I’m the pastor. I know everyone.”

“Oh, I’m just… visiting,” my usual hand-crafted excuse for why I was somewhere slipped without even having to think about it, “Not really from around the area.”

“I can see that,” he said from behind his glass, his voice echoing slightly inside of it and making the liquid vibrate.

“You haven’t even seen me yet…” I let that sentence draw out flirtingly, my hand moving to the pastor’s chin and tilting his face to the side so it would be towards me - knowing that he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it even though I hadn’t asked permission. Guys like him cared heavily about their personal space, while I didn’t, so my demonic powers always won out.

I expected him to try and turn away right off the bat, get full blown red in the face in a way that I’d be able to practically see the lascivious thoughts running inside of his head and hear his inner voice trying to reel them back. Instead, he just eyed me up and down, his expression unreadable. Wasn’t even subtle about the fact he was doing it, either. When he was done analyzing me, he turned towards the bar again.

“So…” I murmured again, not letting him have his silence, “What do you think?”

“That’s a stupid question to ask the local pastor,” his answer came as dry as ever.

“Well… Can I at least get a name for the local pastor then?” finally finding a chance to ask, I gave him my best soft smile, making my question seem innocent enough, “Just in case I wanna attend mass while I’m here?”

“You’d get one if you actually went to the thing,” he retorted, ”But I guess it’s fair. I’m Craig Tucker. You?”

I gave him a fake one, like always, one off the little list of feminine-sounding names I had memorized for those exact occasions. Craig repeated it after me in a murmur, seemingly testing how it rolled off his tongue, but it didn’t matter to me. The way he’d moan it when deep inside was the only one that counted.

“Craig Tucker.” My way of saying his name was less about memorizing it and more about making a declaration to myself; setting my prey’s name to my brain, like throwing a dart at a picture of him on the wall. “I still want your answer…”

He drank the final bit of the whiskey he had and set the glass aside. “Like you need salvation, lady.”

The fit of laughter that came from me was completely genuine. Surely it wasn’t intended as a compliment - or maybe it was; hard to tell with Craig - but I took it as one anyway, committing it to memory for later bragging to my fellow succubi. “Is that so?” I said once the hilarity of it all started to die down, “Hm… You know all about salvation, don’t you? Maybe you can help a girl out… I wanna go to heaven, after all.”

Words that quite literally hurt my tongue to say, like thousands of hot needles pricking on it, but I managed to push through the discomfort - you don’t become one of the best by following every single rule Hell forces upon you. The pastor waited a moment, then lifted his hand in the air, calling for the bartender, who came rather quickly. They exchanged some words I didn’t care to hear; all that mattered was Craig signaling in my direction, both of them looking at me for a moment, then the other man nodding quickly and stepping right away to prepare a drink.

That’s when I knew it was all working. This is how it always started. Men would get entranced by my charm and try to woo me with drinks and erotic words, which was just entertainment in itself from how hilarious they were most of the time. It was always worth it coming up to this realm for that alone. Then they’d start making passes on me, trying to get a move on, and when I accepted eagerly, they’d leave with me thinking that they were getting the upper hand on the whole thing by taking a hot babe home with barely any effort. Even if some of them started out slightly put off by a woman showing so much initiative, the end result was inevitable; a husk of a man left completely drained in his bed, if he managed to make it out alive, and me off on the road to my next endeavor.

It didn’t take long for me to hear the glass sliding across the bar counter, but when I caught it with my hand, what I saw gave me pause. I was used to the fancy tall glasses with colorful drinks, all fruit and sugar and barely any alcohol at all, that men would buy me in clubs when trying to impress. Instead, what stopped in front of me was a small glass of Old Fashioned, an orange slice resting lazily inside of the amber liquid, alongside a single dark red cherry that had sunk to the bottom with its stem still poking out of the cup. I had had a couple of these before, but had to charm bartenders into giving them to me every single time - they were much more up my alley than the borderline diabetes-inducing drinks I was normally forced to enjoy, but men wouldn’t ever let me have those because they didn’t think a pretty woman like me could handle the real deal.

I blinked twice, looking at my drink, before lifting my eyes to Craig again. A new, full glass of whiskey had appeared in his hand, probably while I was too busy in my slight shock.  “Don’t you think that’s… a bit too much for a woman?” I chuckled, lifting up the glass and shaking it lightly, letting the ice clink around. Though my comment was playing into the usual human gender norms, the real objective was to gauge his intentions and thoughts; the pastor had already proven to be more than meets the eye, and I was just dying to find out more about what happened inside that ridiculous hat he wore.

“It’s nothing. I think you can handle it,” he responded with a snort - probably the most emotion he had shown yet, even if it was a bit of disdain, “If you’re too weak, then give it here.”

Immediately I took the drink out of his reach and brought it to my mouth. The liquid burned as it went down my throat, leaving behind a lingering stinging sensation, obviously too strong for my human disguise but absolutely delicious for me. This time, Craig spun his whole body on the bar stool to face me, watching my reaction with great interest - evidently expecting me to gag or cough or maybe even start crying. I didn’t give him the satisfaction, taking great joy in the strong flavor of a proper beverage for a change.

The whole glass was gone in a couple of gulps, and I let it rest on the counter. The small orange slice was left alone in the glass when I picked the alcohol-soaked cherry and placed it between my teeth, my eyes shining with mischief as I teasingly closed my lips around the fruit and broke the stem away, chewing slowly without ever losing the pastor’s gaze.

“Well would you look at that.” There was the faintest hint of amusement in his voice, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it, which I was.

After swallowing the chewed cherry - much less sweet from its time submerged in the drink -, I let my lips curve into a smirk. “You’re right. I can handle it.”

“Clearly.” The pastor raised his own glass towards me, as if going for a toast, despite the fact that I didn’t have anything to toast with anymore. He didn’t wait for any reaction of mine, just bringing the drink to his lips right after the silent movement. A nonverbal acknowledgement of my skill, not necessarily praise since his face was still cold as ever, but close.

I lifted my glass a few inches from the table as well, reciprocating the imaginary toast. “Cheers to the fact that I can handle my alcohol?”

Just like me, he was done with his glass of whiskey after a few gulps, drinking rapidly without a break. The noise the glass made when he placed it on the bar was maybe a bit too loud, even though Craig’s movements were as calculated as they had been the whole time. “You can handle more than that,” he responded, “Or at least it’s what you’re trying to tell me.”

I put my hand over my mouth, hiding a giggle. “Excuse me?”

The pastor leaned towards me, lacing his fingers and propping his elbows on his thighs. “You come to a bar with barely anyone in it, wearing next to nothing, sit right next to a dude you’ve never seen and start a conversation with him. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Yeah, of course. He was spot on. Not that I was trying to be secretive about my intentions, but usually the religious fellows don’t speak on them with their full chest like this guy did. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…” I murmured, looking elsewhere and twirling a strand of hair on my index finger in the most obvious flirty move ever, a behavior that annoyed even myself with how stupid it was. 

“Don’t play with me, lady,” his tone was firmer this time and I knew I didn’t have much more time with my coy act before he’d lose his patience, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t prolong it as much as I could. “I’m a pastor, not a fucking dumbass.”

The sudden cursing should’ve felt absurd, but somehow I knew Craig was not above it. “Language!” I nudged his leg with my foot playfully.

“You can fuck right off.” Swiftly, he stood up, his bar stool making a noise on the floor with the quick movement. ”Now, let’s go.”

It wasn’t a suggestion or a question. It was an order.

“Where?” I tilted my face a bit.

The eye roll he gave me could’ve made a person dizzy. “My place.”

“Oh, but…” I pouted slightly while looking up at him, “I thought guys from the church had to wait until marriage?”

“We do. And we also don’t drink or curse.” He pulled a wallet from the pocket of his blazer and slammed a bill on the counter, visibly not intent on waiting for change. His point needed no further explanation. “Now you can leave with me or you can leave alone, it’s your call.”

Craig’s poker face made it really hard to decipher which parts of his attraction to me were doings of my passive demonic charm and how much of it was actually just him being interested without me having to do anything. His actions seemed completely original, he wasn’t much trying to impress me or jumping at the slightest hint of my affections like guys usually did when I used my abilities on them. Maybe he just… Wanted me of his own accord.

Fine by me. Giving up on any further teasing, at least for the time being, I got up as well and followed him out into the cold night like a guided missile - not without looking back one last time and noticing the disgruntled expression on the bartender’s face as he saw me leaving with the pastor.

༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚

My high heels had barely touched the carpet in Craig’s apartment before the door slammed and his hands were on me. The whole drive there we hadn’t spoken a word to each other, his eagerness only still noticeable by the firm grip on the steering wheel and the several red lights he ran through. He had managed to restrain all his desire for a moment where we’d be fully comfortable and alone to act on it.

The pastor didn’t try to butter me up by showing me around his house or using flattering words on me some more like anyone else would - no, he went straight for the kill. Clearly Craig gave no fucks for anything that didn’t explicitly pique his interest, and right now his interest was in my body, so that’s what he was going to focus on and all the other social norms were out the window. He knew I wanted him too, so in his vision, there was no point in waiting. This straightforward attitude of his drove him further and further into my trap and he didn’t even know it.

He spun me around after closing the door and took my lips on his, wasting no time before sliding his tongue past my teeth and letting it find mine in a passionate dance. That blue hat had somehow vanished in the couple of seconds I wasn’t looking at him, Craig’s full head of short black hair slightly mussed from being under its confines too long, a problem that I solved quickly by running my fingers all over it as I grabbed his head to pull it impossibly closer.

Although the fire with which he kissed me was welcome, it also seemed unbecoming. The celibates I charmed in the past usually had an awkwardness attached to the way that they touched me, because they literally didn’t know how - their teeth would clash onto mine when they tried to come for a kiss, and they’d try to grope and massage the weirdest parts of my body, clamoring to feel any part of a woman’s soft skin. Craig had none of that. His hands immediately went for my ass, hiking up my form-fitting dress and letting the fabric bunch on my hips, taking the soft yet firm flesh on his palms as he squeezed it possessively. 

He tried forcing me to walk backwards in the direction he wanted to go, his legs taking him automatically despite his closed eyes, since he already knew the way around all the obstacles. Unfortunately for him, I didn’t have that same awareness. When the back of my leg hit what seemed to be an armchair and we lost our walking pace, Craig grunted in major annoyance before breaking our kiss and narrowing his eyes at me like I had just committed the eighth deadly sin. Immediately, he used all the strength in his arms to pull me up, my legs wrapping tight around his waist and my arms around his neck instinctively as I lost my footing. Apparently, he figured it was better that he take me himself, since I was being ‘inefficient’ to him. I didn’t mind that at all.

“Wow, you’re strong,” my whispering made his arms tighten around me even more, “You gotta tell me your workout routine later…”

“Someone like you wouldn’t keep up with it,” the way he said it wasn’t exactly sexy; more matter-of-fact, as if it was actually part of a conversation - one he wouldn’t continue, having clashed his lips on mine right after to stop me from questioning.

It didn’t take many steps for him to kick a door open in some direction I didn’t care for and bring me into his bedroom, throwing me onto the mattress without much care, my body bouncing on impact. His bed was queen size - kind of unnecessary for a guy who couldn’t actually lay beside somebody else before marriage, but very convenient for my purposes - and extremely comfortable, with cushy pillows and a decent comforter that smelled like him. A huge focus on personal satisfaction that probably cost a lot and thus went against the humility he was supposed to preach.

Faking a contented hum, I made quick work of my tiny dress, the only thing covering my otherwise very naked form, and stretched myself lazily, turning around like a pleased cat and touching the comforter all over with my body; not quite masking his scent with my own, but rather creating an enticing cocktail better than anything he could buy at the flimsy bar I met him at. It’d undoubtedly stick for many days even after I left, to keep Craig - or whoever discovered his dead body - completely aware of what had transpired in this mattress.

Stopping after a few moments, I laid on my side, facing a very stiff Craig who gazed down at me with his arms crossed. My eyes managed to catch on to the slightest twitch of his nose, which had me grinning straight away - I was getting to him, even if it was almost impossible to tell. My sexy little show did not go unnoticed.

“You’re just gonna stand there?” I bit on one of my fingernails , pointing at him with the other hand. “Or are you gonna strip for me?”

I made sure to not use any of my seduction magic at that moment, wanting to play with his response, expecting him to fight me for it. Instead, he just let out an annoyed grunt, his hands moving to his belt - unlike what I’m usually accustomed to, the pants came off before anything else; he pulled him down along with his boxers in a very quick motion, kicking them off of his feet with his shoes and leaving them on the ground somewhere unseen. 

My attention was immediately drawn to his rock hard cock. There were no roundabouts for it: he was damn massive. Likely one of the biggest I’d seen on a mortal in centuries, in both length and girth. Had a patch of black hair at the base, extremely nicely trimmed, as if it had been done just that same day - first time I actually saw a religious guy care about his pubic hair. The veins that ran under the sensitive skin of his cock were visible even under just the dim moonlight that came from his blinds, and so were the beads of precum already leaking from the huge tip, glistening like they were made of thousands of tiny diamonds. His balls hung low, seeming heavy and full, ready to keep me fed and strengthen my demonic power for possibly weeks on end. Maybe it was a blessing to human women that his calling had been voluntary celibacy, otherwise his sexual partners would be in severe danger.

“Yeah, it’s fucking big,” Craig groaned, my unabashed inspection clearly not getting past him. Understatement of the century, but was this guy reading my mind? “And you’re gonna fucking take it.”

The words were meant to threaten me, but they had the opposite effect. My body was built for exactly that. “Well, if god made it, it must fit, right?” I decided to taunt him back, reminding him of his position despite the filth that came out of his mouth.

He scoffed. “God didn’t make it.”

I was left to try and understand just what the fuck he was talking about while he continued to undress, taking off his blazer and undoing his collar and the buttons of his shirt with practiced ease, letting both pieces of fabric fall to the floor next to his pants and allowing me to see what his build looked like. The source of his earlier strength was then clear to me. For a pastor, he was pretty toned - the shirt and blazer did a fantastic job of hiding his defined arms and abs, maintaining  that completely boring façade he had while the real gem was hidden from view. In each movement, Craig Tucker laid in front of me more of his secrets and surprises, sating my mental curiosity before he even had a chance to do the same to my physical vessel.

With his upper body now bare, I took in another detail that had been hidden under his shirt. A silver cross rested on his chest, dangling from a simple chain, barely any details on it - ingenuous, just like the rest of him.

I let my nails scratch his whole torso lightly, moving up from his abdomen all the way to the chain, twisting it in my index finger while I looked at Craig with a sultry grin. Contrary to popular human belief, the little pendant had no effect on me - their religious symbols were nothing more than decorative pieces of wood or metal to us, powerless against the forces of Hell. “What about this?”

“It stays on,” he immediately said, grabbing my wrist and yanking it away from his necklace. This pastor was fully naked for me, yet some part of him still clung to his deity. It was hilarious.

“Suit yourself.” I giggled.

Craig nodded, as if to silently tell me ‘I will’, before grabbing my arm and dragging me on the bed until I was laid across it on my stomach. I propped myself up on my elbows, but before I could even try and look at him, the pastor did all the work for me by grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling it back so I was forced to do just that while he positioned himself in front of my face.

Despite me already knowing where this was headed, I still tilted my head a bit to the side in a silent inquiry of his actions, which he was quick to answer. “I need to figure out if this mouth is good for anything,” he took his cock in his free hand and gave a few lazy taps with it on my bottom lip, “Besides drinking booze and flirting with men of the church.”

“Oh, so you do admit it’s good for all that?” I whispered before closing my lips around his tip, watching the annoyed eye roll he was preparing disappear as his eyelids fluttered closed and his mouth hung open just the tiniest bit when I started sliding my tongue along the slit before swirling it all over, the wetness of his pre being replaced with that of my saliva.

I hummed smugly while starting to slowly take more of that cock inside my mouth, letting the vibrations course through him. I lived for this. Even the most unresponsive of motherfuckers couldn’t control himself with me, and I was counting on just a few more seconds before Craig Tucker became complete putty in my hands. The idea of ending this with only a blowjob, not even getting to fuck him and know what it was like to have such a huge guy inside of me, was a little bit upsetting, but this was a decision he made. Oh well, I thought, until…

With a sharp snap of his hips, he buried all of that inside of my throat.

The coughing and sputtering I emitted when that happened weren’t physical responses. Succubi don’t exactly have useful gag reflexes or the need to breathe, because we’re not mortal; even if our disguises look the part, every single bit of them exists only to elicit arousal or assist in feeding or reproduction, with all the other stupid human necessities made irrelevant. So all of that reaction was purely shock - complete astonishment at the fact that he was able to do something like that with so little care and effort, and no warning whatsoever. Something that could’ve possibly killed a normal human woman, which was, at least to him, what he was dealing with.

He was already waiting to meet my gaze when I looked up to him with wide eyes, moving his free hand to give the side of my face a few light slaps. ”I told you you were gonna take it,” the pastor said, the tiniest of smirks curving his lips for a brief second before he shifted into his stone-faced self again and started slowly pulling himself out of my mouth, “Now hopefully this shuts your damn trap.”

The pace he set while fucking my face wasn’t as brutal as his initial thrust, but I had a vague idea that it wasn’t exactly for my own comfort - he was just trying to draw out the sensation for the longest time possible. My hands grabbed his hips, trying to bring back some semblance of control over the circumstances, which only had him tugging harder at my hair and made me choke in another surprised response. Tears started prickling at the sides of my eyes and streaming down my cheeks, yet I still noticed how Craig’s own gaze laser focused on that; he was finding my whole struggle hot.

So I really played up the act. My grip became more intense and my nails dug down slightly on his skin, as if I was struggling and trying to make him get away, and I shut my eyes tight while gasping and choking all around his cock, my tongue swirling around it and getting it even more smeared in my building saliva. I didn’t need the gift of vision to take in his reaction - his low grunts reached my ears like they had been broadcasted to the whole world.

Then his hand came in contact with my face again, this time in a very fierce smack that made me yelp and cough immediately. “Shut up,” the pastor hissed, “I didn’t ask for your whining…”

Even so, considering how he sped up his thrusts considerably after this, it was clear said whining was very much welcome. So I kept on doing it, taking in stride every single following slap and thrust of his inside of my mouth, faking pain and discomfort but never completely surrendering. 

He was getting close, I could sense it as he went to the initial brutish behaviour of shoving himself all the way quickly like it was just another hole instead of someone’s throat. I used my hands to try and pull him towards me this time, trying to catch any sliver of confusion on his part with this, but getting nothing. Craig just continued using my mouth for his own pleasure, and I braced myself for the surge of power I was about to receive once he came, having literally sucked the life out of him.

Until he gave my hair a yank and pulled himself back abruptly, swiftly taking himself on his free hand and letting a sequence of warm white jets land straight onto my face.

I almost screamed with anger. It was almost impossible for a human man to have enough self-control to pull out of a succubus, no matter which hole he was using. It felt like a personal defeat, to let prey use me like that and not even get to feed. But not everything was over - the pastor was still standing, his eyes closed and head thrown back, but very much alive. He had survived the ordeal, and, for the way he still had my hair on a grip, there was energy for yet another round, one I would not dare to lose.

“Craaaaaig…” I tapped my fingers on his body after a bit, trying to get him to look down at me, to see my face plastered with both his release and the mess of spit all around my mouth from his reckless fucking.

In a small victory of mine, he did. Letting go of his cock and taking my chin in his hand, the pastor tilted my face slowly to one side and then to the other, his eyes narrow as he analyzed his own work. While he did that, my eyes drifted down to his dick - confirming with delight that he was still rock hard as ever, even after coming so hard on my face. That man was one of a kind indeed.

Giving out a type of snort that I couldn’t differentiate between amused and disdainful, Craig released me fully. He silently made his way to the other side of the bed and climbed onto it, sighing as he laid on the mattress, getting cozy against his soft pillows.

No way I’d allow him relaxation now. I was not leaving that place without what I came to get in there. This guy would not be my first defeat. “Tired already?” I whined, turning around and propping myself up on one elbow as the other hand sneaked towards his chest. “I wanna play more…”

Craig turned his face to me with a stern look. “Do I seem tired to you?” Always. “And shut up.” He then patted his thigh with his hand, keeping his gaze on me. Guess my moment of just opening wide and looking pretty was done.

Slowly, teasingly, I straddled his body, his eyes following my every movement like a critic’s. I rolled my hips a few times over his cock, letting my arousal coat it - although it would take much more of it to cover his full length. Though his eyebrows curved into a frown, clearly displeased by the fact that I was waiting so long to just put him in, he couldn’t help but watch the full display with focused eyes, taking every single movement in with an interest that he didn’t show but I knew was there.

“Just get on with it already,” the complaint finally came after a few moments, his hands moving up my thighs.

“In a rush? We have the whole night,” I purred, taking one of my hands to his face and dragging my index finger along his cheek, settling it on his lower lip. 

Craig tilted his face up a bit to move my touch away from his mouth before speaking again. “The earlier we start, the more we do. So stop wasting time.” Hands finding my hips, he took a firm hold on them and lifted them up himself, staring at his own slick-covered cock for a few seconds before looking up at me again, “Unless it’s too much for you.”

Fuck you, I thought to myself, before realizing I was about to do just that. It was clear he knew the effect he had, how sexy he really was, even if he didn’t conceive the true nature of that power. To say something like that to a sex demon! The disrespect! Made me even want to show my real form to him for a brief moment, so that measly pastor could really know what he was dealing with before I drained the life out of him. But I held it back, deciding to make him swallow his words through actions.

Which is why right after getting into position, I sank onto him entirely in one quick movement, meeting the base of his huge length with a brutal downward thrust. My walls stretched themselves to accommodate him in a snug fit, swiftly and painlessly, the perks of a body that is literally made for that. He groaned deeply with this, pressing his lips together to not let the sound be any louder, but the damage had been done.

I leaned towards him a bit to whisper in his ear, “It’s just enough.”

He had unknowingly put me in every succubus’ favourite position. Being on top meant I got complete control over the situation, free rein to do as I pleased while Craig would be left to squirm and take what I gave him. As I straightened my posture and started to ride him expertly, he also began lifting his hips up to meet mine, trying to establish some sort of dominance over my movements, his hands roaming everywhere on my body like they were trying to leave an invisible trail of his touch.

Knowing I had him under relative control, I allowed myself to relax and enjoy the moment. And oh how easy it was to do so. He was so big I could feel him everywhere, hitting the deepest parts of me every time I moved, and the pleasure was indescribable. Legitimately, I had never felt better - my whole body was covered in a delightful warmth with the desire he created, even hotter wherever he handled me. Admission had to be made: Craig was a remarkable lover, and in other circumstances, I’d dream of finding out what else he could do with that cock as well as other parts of him. Maybe if he lived, I’d visit him in his dreams again, both to torment his soul and keep using his body for my leisure without actually allowing him the respite of death.

Actually, that even might not be much of a respite. He’d certainly be in my grounds by then. A church man who willingly gives in to a cardinal sin? Those are rarely allowed in that paradise they talk about so much. 

“You were right, Craig…” I murmured between breathy whimpers, “I think I am good for more than what you said…”

His face was contorted with the effort he was making, but he still managed to keep his eyes open, meeting my gaze fiercely. “You… You really don’t shut up, do you?” He huffed as he spoke, the pleasure and the strain of repeatedly fucking into me clearly getting to him. I merely chuckled and started moving even faster - my dirty talking became uninteresting to me over the sound of our skin slapping and the mattress’ bounce.

Bringing my face down close to him again, I licked a long stripe on his cheek. Surprisingly, despite the physical exertion, he wasn’t sweating. Still, human skin was extremely tempting to any demon, and Craig’s especially so. I couldn’t help but sigh with desire, the light breath hitting right on the wet line on his face, and I fixed my position just in time to see him shudder and groan at that feeling - like the logical part of him wanted to complain and be disgusted but his body was too far gone to actually know what about.

The smell of his essence was getting stronger by the second and it took a lot from me to not both pull all my stops to make him cum and also to not finish myself from the overwhelming ecstasy. Through that haze of lust, there was still a certain competitive aspect for me - knowing that I’d come out the other side from an encounter with such a formidable opponent on the human race, someone whose essence any sex demon would kill to have, to have their abilities obscenely heightened by such great power. Knowing that, from the moment he came, he’d be mine. 

“Say my name,” I honestly didn’t even remember which was the one I had told him; all that mattered was his calling out to me, acknowledging who had prevailed.

It took him a few gasps of air before an answer came. “(Y/N),” he finally husked.

Shock came through me in two different ways. First was the physical: The sound of my name on Craig’s voice made tension I didn’t even know I had over my whole body snap like an elastic that was let go after being stretched to its limits. A scream of pleasure broke free from deep inside my very being as I came around his cock, with an intensity that bordered on violent, jolts upon jolts of lightning starting from my cunt and running through every single part of me. In that moment, my nails clawed his chest viciously, actively etching marks on his skin - the force of my orgasm had me losing control of my human disguise for a brief moment, and my demonic form shone through right in front of the pastor’s eyes.

Yet he didn’t flinch from the pain or shout at the new sight. Gritting his teeth and emitting a shuddering grunt from behind them, he bucked upwards a few more erratic times before spilling fully inside of me, streams upon streams of his seed filling me up completely, seeming endless. I didn’t even have time to enjoy the brutal surge of energy that washed over me from taking in his life energy; my whole body was already too busy spasming from pleasure, and my mind couldn’t be informed of anything else, having short-circuited completely.

When I eventually came down from the orgasm that ravaged my entire system, I was finally left to deal with the second shock: The psychological. And that’s when the world stopped spinning. The part of Hell inside of me froze.

There was absolutely no way.

I hadn’t told the pastor my real name, and it was a deliberate decision, but it meant more than just any chick on a one-night stand who doesn’t want to see the guy again. For demons, our name is legitimate business. Knowing a demon’s real name means having power over them, and we don’t, under any circumstances, want another being to have that kind of hold on us; it usually means complete destruction. Most humans don't know about this, but we still avoid telling them the real thing, because they can use that power even without knowing of it.

And yet here Craig was, knowing that information and using it like it was nothing. Looking at him again, my eyes went wide as I took in his features - his lips were twisted in a wide, sadistic smirk, the most expression I had seen him sport all night. That smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, which probably made the whole thing even scarier.

Every single bit of that fucking smile was legitimate. He knew.

“How do you…” There was no recognizing my voice with how weak it was as the words left my mouth. A sense of urgency made my heart race, my wide eyes denouncing the terror that shook my body. More than anything, I had to interrogate Craig: Force the information I needed out of him, then end his life in a torturous manner for even daring to say my name with that filthy human mouth of his.

Yet I found myself unable to even move, let alone speak. The questions I needed to ask never made their way to my vocal chords. I couldn’t ever have imagined that a simple church guy from a small town would manage what literally no other man had ever gotten even close to doing - he left me speechless.

“I have my means, (Y/N),” the way he kept that deadpan tone of his while my name rolled off of his lips once more made me shudder completely, “I don’t usually see your kind around here, though.”

“Wha-what are you talking about, priest?” I finally found it in me to roar, my face contorting in fury - though my speech still stuttered at the beginning, a tiny faltering that basically made the whole thing pointless.

“Pastor.”

His dry and almost ironic correction only fueled my anger. “Like I fucking care! Who do you think you are, you idiotic male?” 

My nails shifted into my demonic form’s claws and I tried to swipe at his face with them, but he immediately grabbed my wrist, stopping it in midair like nothing had happened. “I told you already. I’m Craig Tucker. But I guess low-levels like you need help understanding.”

The next second was a blur. With incredible speed and strength, Craig pushed me onto my back, freeing himself from under me and shoving my legs wide open as he settled between them, placing his hands over my chest and pinning me down with such inhuman strength I was sure he could crack my ribcage right open if he really wanted to. But, judging from how he stared down at me, his intentions were different - and honestly, considering what he had become, I might’ve been in less danger if he just ripped my skin open.

The man - or rather, the entity - above me wasn’t the pastor anymore. His pupils had shifted into mere slits and his once hazel eyes now blazed a vibrant red; looking straight into them, I swore I could see all the nine circles of my birthplace in their entirety, the screams of the tortured souls echoing in my brain just like they would if I was physically all the way down there. Wide coriaceous wings spread from his back, the thick and rough onyx-colored skin that covered them sporting a slight bluish hue, barely noticeable. Of similar color were the goat-type horns that now protruded from his forehead, their bases slightly covered by his shaggy bangs. A long, pointy tail swished dangerously behind him, before twisting itself around my ankles, trapping them together.

He wasn’t an incubus. Wouldn’t have been able to overpower me so easily if he was - strength through us sex demons is measured by the power we steal from a human’s life energy rather than the biological sex our vessels embody. And he could do all that after being stripped of his energy while I was supposed to be at my prime from the best feeding of my life.

No. ‘Craig Tucker’ was something much above me, more ancient even, a being who manifested Sin itself in a way I never could. And that same being knew my true name. He had the ability to do whatever the fuck he wanted to me.

Hovering over me now was the silver cross chain, like a hypnotizing pendulum, about to bring me into something I could never snap away from.

“You got what you came for, demoness. Now, it’s my turn.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[sweetromanova]

Off The Record: Part Twelve🖤

Natasha Romanoff x Criminal Defense Lawyer!Original Female Character

Summary: She’s built a career on keeping secrets and defending the worst with nothing to lose. That changed when Natasha Romanoff showed up on the other side of the courtroom.

Warnings: descriptions of violence, psychological manipulation, implied child abuse and trauma, emotional abuse, mentions of torture, human and sex trafficking, war crimes and murder, implied coercion, legal corruption, gun violence, secondary character deaths, power imbalance, blood and injury depiction

A/N: guys i had such a nightmare, my tumblr has been glitching for days and i lost my drafts so i have to re-upload everything (yayyyyy) and so i couldn’t upload as much as i wanted this weekend! final chapter of this will be out next week then i have two new stories coming🫶🏼

Chapter Twelve

Sienna wasn’t surprised to hear the knock before the door opened, not loud, just enough to break the quiet.

Natasha stepped in, hands in her jacket pockets. There was no smirk, no lecture, no mission. Just tired eyes and the soft kind of presence that said she wasn’t here for answers.

“I brought contraband.” Natasha smiled, pulling a small cup from behind her back. “Well technically it’s just terrible coffee but it’s not from the mess hall so we’re already pushing boundaries.”

Sienna blinked. “You don’t have to keep coming to check I’m still here.

“No, I don’t.”Natasha said. “But I want to check if you’re okay.”

Natasha sees the same sad smile that’s she has for the last week. “Well and to confirm you haven’t strangled the agent who keeps bringing your food tray like you’re contagious.”

That pulled the smallest smile out of Sienna. “Tempting.”

They sat in quiet. Sienna held the coffee like it might anchor her. Natasha didn’t rush her or didn’t ask for anything. Everyday she came and she just stayed.

Over the past few weeks they’ve talked about everything and anything that avoided the tropic of trauma. Favourite animal, favourite movie, favourite vacation spot, like they were on a first date and one of them wasn’t an international ex-assassin and a woman that’s potentially facing life imprisonment. 

When Natasha finally left, the corridor outside was waiting, as was Maria Hill.

“You know room visits aren’t exactly protocol.” Maria said, with a pointed smile.

Natasha arched an eyebrow. “So put it in the report, emotional espionage.”

Maria smirked, then gestured toward the elevator. “Walk with me. You look like you need caffeine that doesn’t taste like guilt.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

They sat in a quiet conference room just off the admin wing, coffee between them, the city creeping up the skyline through the long window.

“She’s not going to prison.” Maria said, straight to it.

Natasha didn’t hide the relief but she didn’t celebrate either. Nothing good ever came without something that followed. 

“We’ve worked her case hard.” Maria continued. “Filed testimony, submitted full cooperation reports, used the fact she was actively manipulated by Luka, long term emotional control, all of it. And it mostly stuck.”

“Mostly?”

Maria nodded. “SHIELD’s offering her a post. Probationary. Internal legal consulting, intel debriefing, low-level clearance for now. After six months, she can walk if she wants. Clean. We had to pull a few favours but they’re happy with the agreement, if we take full custody of her.”

Natasha’s jaw clenched. “She saved lives. And she put a bullet in the man who ruined hers, that was her brother by the way. And we’re acting like she still owes something?”

“I don’t disagree.” Maria said. “But the system doesn’t like redemption without paperwork.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

That afternoon, the Avengers were gathered for a private briefing. Sienna stood quietly beside Maria, hands cuffed loosely in front of her. Her face was blank but composed, the mask of someone who had no more energy to defend herself.

Maria stepped forward. “You all know the outcome. Now here are the terms.”

She laid them out calmly, probation, full oversight, access limitations, duration of service. When she finished, the room was silent.

Sienna just nodded.

Natasha didn’t.

“It’s not fair.” She muttered aloud, her voice low but sharp. “She doesn’t deserve probation. She deserves a place to rest.”

Sienna looked over but there was no shock in her face. Just a quiet acceptance. “It’s okay. I worked for the system when it suited me. This is… just the other side of that.”

Maria gave a small nod then approached and unlocked the cuffs. They clicked apart with finality.

“We’ll get you housing in the lower wing. It’s secure and quiet. We’ll bring over what we can from your apartment, it’s already been swept and sealed so it might take a day or two.”

Sienna nodded again. “Thank you.”

Wanda stepped forward, offered a kind smile. “Come with me. We’ll get your ID set up, your badge. You’ll need clearance for your quarters.”

Before she could follow, Maria’s voice stopped her again. “One more thing.”

Sienna turned, suddenly feeling a weight in the room.

“We have Luka’s body, officially unclaimed. But you’re listed on his records, you’re next of kin. It’s your choice what happens.”

Sienna didn’t speak for a long moment. Then: “Burn it.”

Maria didn’t argue, just nodded politely.

Sienna followed Wanda from the room, not in chains, not under escort. Just walking forward as free as a woman under SHIELD supervision could. 

And Natasha watched her go, a thousand unspoken things tightening in her throat.

“I’ll make the call about the body-“

“Don’t.” Natasha told Maria. “Not yet. She’s hurt and she hates him right now but she doesn’t want that. She wouldn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“Leave it with me.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The hallway leading to SHIELD’s administrative level was sterile and humming with low lighting, like everything in the compound. Sienna walked beside Wanda, both of them silent for a long stretch until the elevator doors closed.

Wanda broke it first. “You’re doing okay?”

Sienna gave her a look. Not annoyed, just dry.

Wanda smiled faintly. “Okay, that was a dumb question.”

They rode a few floors in silence. Then Wanda tried again. “You don’t have to talk. But if you want to, I know what it’s like to be on the inside of something everyone else wants to burn down.”

Sienna didn’t reply right away. “I don’t think I’ve even felt anything yet. It’s like I know I should be crying or screaming or punching a wall but it’s all quiet. Like my brain’s buffering.”

“That’s normal.” Wanda said gently. “Shock takes its time. Guilt too.”

Sienna’s voice dropped. “I don’t think I feel guilty the way they want me to.”

Wanda tilted her head. “How do you mean?”

“I don’t regret saving Luka, not at first. I wanted to believe he could come back from what he’d become. I thought that if I just held on long enough, something human in him would hold on too.” She paused. “That’s what I regret. That I thought I could out-logic evil.”

Wanda didn’t judge her. “You were trying to love someone who made themselves impossible to love. That’s not weak. That’s just human.”

They reached the badge station. The agent inside barely looked up, just motioned to the camera. “Stand there.”

Sienna stepped forward. The camera clicked. As simple as that.

When she turned back to Wanda, her new ID badge in hand, the faintest smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “This is the worst photo I’ve ever taken.”

Wanda grinned. “Oh, just wait. Tony put mine on a coffee mug.”

Sienna let out the tiniest laugh, the kind that barely made it to her eyes but still counted.

Wanda touched her elbow as they turned to leave. “If you ever want to talk, I don’t even need words. Just knock.”

Sienna nodded. “Thanks. I might.”

And maybe for the first time in a while, she meant it.

Before they could even reach the Avengers floor, Natasha was there, waiting and clearly worrying. It made Sienna nauseous how much effort this woman was wasting on her.

“Hey, did you get everything?”

“Yeah, the picture is terrible but I should just be grateful they didn’t use my mugshot, right?”

“If Stark hears that, he’ll have it changed so yes. Why don’t I take you for a tour? I’ll make sure Friday gives you access up here, incase you need anything.”

“Mr. Stark has granted Ms. Blake, also known as Legally Complicated, full access to all non-classified Avengers facilities. He also asked me to relay the message, please try not to sue anyone on the way in.”

“Thanks Friday.” Natasha rolled her eyes.

“You’re welcome Natalie.” You raised an eyebrow at Natasha, who just brushed it off like it was a long story. “And welcome Legally Complicated.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The night had settled heavy over the Tower when Natasha knocked at Sienna’s door, grateful she could visit her in a room and not a cell. 

No escort, no file in hand. Just a soft duffel bag hanging from her shoulder and a paper bag of takeout clutched loosely in one hand.

Sienna opened the door, hair pulled back, eyes shadowed. She looked freshly shadowed and happy to be in a more comfortable set of clothes, even if it was the standard issue SHIELD tracksuit. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, she proposed. 

Natasha gave her a half-smile and held up the bag. “I brought something better than protocol. Sweats, face wash and pizza. You looked like you could use all three.”

Sienna hesitated, then stepped aside to let her in. Inside, her SHIELD-issued room was blank but clean. A bed, a desk and not much else. It smelled like new furniture and sterilised air. Natasha’s bag landed on the bed with a soft thump.

Sienna glanced at it, voice low. “You didn’t have to.”

Natasha shrugged. “Maybe not. But I wanted to.”

There was a pause, Sienna standing there in the uniform like a stranger in her own skin, until Natasha casually tossed out. “Ever seen The Land Before Time?”

Sienna raises an eyebrow. “The kids’ dinosaur movie?”

Natasha shrugs. “It’s about grief, survival, found family and betrayal in the face of a crumbling world.”

Sienna just blinked so Natasha continued. “And yes, it has talking dinosaurs.”

Sienna smirks faintly. “Sounds… uplifting.”

Natasha gives a dry smile. “Littlefoot’s mom dies in the first twenty minutes. Buckle up.”

Sienna stared at her like she was broken. Natasha just raised an eyebrow. “I will give you ten seconds to say yes before I find the remote myself.”

“I don’t-“ Sienna started but Natasha was already picking up the takeout and heading for the door.

“We’ll watch it in my apartment. Better screen.”

Sienna let out the smallest breath of a laugh and just before she followed, she grabbed a different sweater from the very top of the back, which smelled exactly like fresh linen and something distinctly Natasha.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

By the time the dinosaurs reached the cave and Littlefoot finally let themselves cry for his mother, broken voice echoing through the dark as he asked why she left, Sienna had stopped pretending to keep her distance. She was tucked beside Natasha on the couch, the blanket half falling off one side, a wine glass on the table and an empty plate beside it. Her eyes stayed on the screen but her fingers curled just slightly in the fabric between them, holding on.

Sienna’s head was leaned back, eyes glossy but peaceful. Natasha let the silence hang for a while before she spoke.

“I stopped the order.” She almost whispered. 

Sienna turned to look at her.

“For his body.” Natasha added. “Luka. I told Maria to hold it.”

Sienna didn’t speak for a long moment. “I said I wanted it gone.”

“I know.”

Sienna exhaled, sharp and shaky. “I don’t know what I want.”

“You don’t have to.” Natasha said softly. “Not yet.”

Sienna closed her eyes. “He was my brother. He destroyed everything and I still can’t bring myself to just… erase him.”

“I get it.” Natasha’s voice was steady but there was a weight beneath it. “When I was a kid, Yelena and I were sent on a mission with two agents. For a little while, we played at being happy families in Ohio. They wiped our tears, cleaned the scrapes on our knees… and then they sent us back. Back into the hands of men like Dreykov. I should hate them. I should have killed them. They were accomplices, part of the system that betrayed us. And yet... when I found Yelena again, I found them too. Instead of finishing the job, I didn’t. Now? We spend one weekend a month at my mother’s- Melina’s farm in Russia, eating blini, drinking vodka, playing board games like nothing happened. We don’t talk about what they did, not because it’s forgiven but because sometimes, it’s easier to forget than to live without the people who once held you.”

Sienna didn’t speak, she didn’t even look at Natasha with pity, just understanding. “When it was Dreykov, I wanted to set fire to the world. I wanted to burn everything to the ground. And then I wanted to erase him from my memory completely. But neither worked. The anger, the pain, they didn’t disappear. I had to learn to live with what he left behind. With the shadows, the ghosts. And with the truth that sometimes, the people who hurt you most are the ones you can’t live without.”

Sienna let out a breath that trembled halfway into a sob. She turned her face away, scrubbing at her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- I don’t even cry but lately? God I hate crying.”

Natasha reached for the blanket and gently shifted closer. “That makes two of us.”

“I don’t know how to fix any of this.” Sienna whispered. “And I definitely don’t know how to repay you for not giving up on me.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” Natasha said simply. “I got into a lot of bad things for good reasons too. And I had people who helped pull me out. People who reminded me that surviving didn’t make me a monster.”

Sienna’s jaw clenched, eyes red-rimmed. “Do you really think I’m not one?”

“I think you’re someone who fought her way out of hell, who still chose to protect people even when it cost her everything.” Natasha’s voice softened. “That’s not what monsters do.”

Sienna dropped her head into her hands.

Natasha didn’t speak again, just reached out slowly, letting her hand settle on Sienna’s back, light and sure.

After a moment, Sienna leaned into her.

They sat like that a while, no more words needed. Wrapped in a warm blanket, surrounded by a dumb children’s movie and cold dumplings and the rare, fragile kind of silence that didn’t need to be broken.

It wasn’t a perfect ending but it was honest.

[buildnbuy]

⚽ Save File Diary, May 2025

I graduated from university in real life this month so this will be a quick update! 🎓😅 This month I focused on developing the Sims for the Foxbury Institute Soccer Team! This post will be covering:

No Longer Vanilla?!

New Club: Foxbury Soccer Team

New Sims!

Townie Makeover Teaser

How I'm Making Sims

What's Next?

No Longer Vanilla?!

I really wanted to try to keep things Vanilla, but the icons for clubs and holidays in the game as is is atrocious... so there is now one mod requirement for the save file!

Natabear's More Holiday and Club Icons!

New Club: Foxbury Soccer Team⚽

Currently there are six Sims that are included in the club! This leaves enough space for joining the team/club with at least two new Sims in gameplay (i.e. your Sim and their #1 bestie want to join the soccer team together! (sorry to #2 bestie)).

There are a handful of club requirements including career, skills, and having the active trait! The intense requirements have been really fun in playtesting as it felt like more of a challenge to get your Sim to get that call from Coach Barry to join!

Plus, there are a bunch of benefits to joining, including improved reputation, career progression, skill progression, as well as getting 'access' to Coach Barry who has the Active Aura mastery perk which also intensifies your fitness skill gain!

Really wanted to make it worth it to join the club, especially since your Sim is required to be in the Soccer Team Player career already (which is a 6PM - 9PM almost-daily commitment), this is super extra-curricular and deserves super rewards!

New Sims! 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦

There are a handful of new Sims that are part of the team and with each of them new stories!

The main storyline for the team is that there are rumors that recruiters are coming to scout out the Universities soon and only one student will be handpicked to be drafted; taking them straight into the professional athlete career.

Isabella Rojas for instance is an international student from Ciudad Enamorada and being drafted would mean a lot to her family and her city. Trent Freeman on the other hand joined the team just to impress Isabella at first but ended up actually falling in love with the roar of the crowd and wants to see his name in lights one day. For him, getting drafted is one step closer to fame. His brother, Darius Freeman only joined because his brother joined, and kind of just exists in his brother's orbit. But who would Darius be if his brother leaves school to go pro?

Will share all of their stories in full in future introduction posts where they'll also be available for download!

Townie Makeover: Becca Clarke 🦞

Becca Clarke is now at the Foxbury Institute! Her sleepwear outfit would make you assume otherwise though,,, I wonder who's hoodie she's borrowing...😉

How I'm Making Sims! 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦

The way that I'm making Sims for the save file is pretty intensive as I'm giving each of them skills, reward traits, career-progression, lifestyles, skill mastery perks, customized career outfits, relationships, preferences, bucket lists, reputations, relationship bits, sentiments, and basically every feature under the sun that can help tell the Sim's story better through gameplay! It's honestly one of my favorite parts of preparing a save file!

(And yes, I'm very afraid of the next expansions adding another thing to the Simology panel...🙄)

But given this intensive process, I've decided to just focus on the main-Sim and their story as it related to university. Trying to give all of these Sims extensive family trees started to make me burn out...

Making a save file has been a huge learning process!

What's Next? 💽

I'm still very much in my Create-A-Sim era (do I need to change my name?), so the next handful of posts likely will be introduction to all of the Sims, as well as room uploads for the rooms I'm taking the photoshoots in!

As soon as I'm bitten by the BnB bug I'll be hanging around the Foxbury neighborhood! Hoping to complete the neighborhood in its entirety (builds, sims, clubs, etc.) by the end of this summer!

Will keep you updated as per usual! That's all for now, until next time!

[copperbadge]

I was making breakfast and listening to an episode of Just King Things this morning, which is a podcast I do recommend -- two very smart English teachers are reading the books of Stephen King in publication order and discussing them. This could go extremely awry except they're both highly conscious of his failings as well as his skill, so they do really well handling a lot of his less salutatory content.

They've hit the point in King's ouvre (this episode was about Hearts In Atlantis) that follows his recovery from the car accident that very nearly killed him, where he was struck by a van while out walking. One of them pointed out that it seems as though he came back from nearly dying determined to write the wildest shit imaginable and only write what he wanted, which struck a chord in me this time despite having listened to this episode before. Perhaps because I was thinking about my own writing and where it's going in the short term (there are a couple of short stories I want to do that I don't quite have a way into yet). I generally don't think about the drift of my creativity in the long term because when I do I usually draw the wrong conclusions.

I don't really classify my life, the way some people who've had high-impact injuries do, as before-TBI and after-TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury -- the fairly severe concussion I had in January of 2020). For one thing, given I had to cancel a trip to NYC because of it, it may have saved my life; I almost certainly would have caught COVID as someone with known lung issues in New York at the time. For another, the TBI was way scarier to almost everyone else; for me it was just one more dumb injury I gave myself and I didn't even remember most of it so it hardly registered. I used to open the story of it with a joke about waking up not remembering going to bed the night before, but nobody ever found it funny.

It's true that there are changes it wrought in my life, though. Even practical stuff like making sure my living space doesn't have tripping hazards and continuing to wear a fitbit even though I don't really need to (the fitbit told us, the morning after, exactly when the concussion happened, because it registered a heart-rate spike when I fell). For weeks after, I had to move slowly and put off making important decisions because I couldn't trust my physical or intellectual judgement; I didn't even jaywalk in my own neighborhood because I couldn't be sure I was judging the cars' speeds properly. For about a year after I had periodic post-concussion syndrome which basically just slammed me back into concussion space, which wasn't painful or upsetting but was definitely inconvenient.

And it's also undeniable that my writing shifted after the injury. It's not necessarily because of the injury, since my initial recovery from the TBI and the declaration of quarantine happened at roughly the same time, and anyone who tells you that a years-long global pandemic didn't impact their artistic expression is selling you a line. But the last thing I wrote before the TBI was the first draft of Six Harvests, and aside from the Six Harvests publication draft, which had fairly minimal changes, almost all that I've written has been blue-sky, light-hearted, PG-rated romance. It's been on my mind that I've been writing different subject matter from what I used to, but the timing of it didn't strike me until just recently.

I don't mind, really. I love fandom and I support fanfic in whatever expression it comes, but I'm also happy writing my own stories. While I'm aware it's been years since I've meaningfully written fanfic, it doesn't bother me per se, as long as I'm writing. It bothered me much more when I could write fanfic but not original fic, especially in those last few awful months at my last job. I'm proud of the literary and non-genre fiction I've written in the past, but it's also much more trying and frustrating to write at times, so I'm enjoying having a different sort of challenge that feels more fulfilling in the process. I'm sure at some point I'll go back to literary fiction -- there are ways in which it's hard to avoid turning the later Shivadh novels into literary fiction, being honest -- but for now I like what I'm writing, and I'm writing primarily to please myself and without regard to what's necessarily rational or linear.

Just struck me, is all, that it's by far the most noticeable major shift in my work. I do sort of wonder what will be next.

[emeryhiro]

What Daryl and Carol mean to each other

And why France may have been the best thing for Caryl

This idea has been sitting in my drafts for about six months, but now that we're only 9 days away from the Tribeca premiere, I finally decided to flesh it out and post it.

This post can be taken as part two of my previous one on what Carol means to Daryl [here], but it can also be read independently. And just as a disclaimer, this is just my understanding and opinions on Caryl and all the scenes I mention below. So grab a nice cup of your choice beverage and get comfy 'cause I had a lot to say, and this turned out to be a long one.

I want to start by pointing out some moments where Daryl and Carol got to enjoy each other's company and talk in peace.

Yup, that's all of them... a long list of 4...

I didn't realise how rare these moments were until I started looking through season after season. Don't get me wrong; I know there are countless sweet and meaningful moments that they've shared both on screen and off screen (implied), but very few that we've seen without heartbreak, grief, or danger looming over them. And even the moments in the gifs above were still sandwiched between disasters.

I've read and received many questions, such as, "Why have we had to wait all these years and are having to continue to wait for Caryl to be canon?" and "If it was going to happen, it would have happened by now." and I feel like the above gifs answer all of that.

These two have endured unimaginable pain before and after the outbreak, and throughout it all, they have been each other's light, held each other together, helped each other heal from their past, and become the strongest versions of themselves.

However, they have never been allowed to be selfish, to take a moment to think about what they deserve, or to imagine the possibility of accepting the love they want and need; why? Because they have been so busy protecting and making sacrifices for everyone else.

For the past 13 years, they have been content as long as they have each other in their lives, accepting their current circumstances as long as the other seems happy. But during all that time, they also connected in more ways than they had realised.

The major connection I wanted to point out is that their lives depend on one another now (mutually inclusive). Whether knowingly or unknowingly, they are alive at this moment because of each other. I don't mean this just in a 'save their life when they're in danger' way but also as a 'I can't imagine my life existing beyond yours' and 'I can't distinguish between my life and yours' kind of way.

I briefly touched on this in one of my previous posts about Carol [here], and the show, in general, has been a lot more open with us regarding what Carol wants, but here are a couple of more nuanced instances from the later seasons where we see those feelings show from Daryl and Carol's perspectives:

~~~~~~~~

S10 EP3 Ghosts (Daryl)

The first scene I wanted to mentions is when Alpha confronts them about crossing her border. The moment she says, "You have to be punished," and the whisperers reach for their weapons, we see Daryl shifting on his feet as he prepares to move at a moment's notice.

And as soon as Carol talks back to Alpha, calling her words "Bullshit", Daryl is already moving.

He immediately places himself between them to shield Carol in case Alpha decides to attack her.

Then, when Carol snaps and tries to shoot Alpha, Daryl grabs and takes complete hold of her.

He's not just trying to stop her; he's using himself to shield every inch of her from any possible incoming assault from the whisperers.

Once Alpha allows them to leave, he grabs Carol and her bow and arrows without a second of hesitation (leaving behind his own crossbow) and immediately moves Carol away from the situation.

Once again, when everyone is in danger all Daryl can think about is Carol, making sure she's safe and unharmed, with no concern for himself.

I also think it's so beautiful and important to point out here that while all Daryl could think about was shielding Carol, Michonne was also there trying to protect both of them ♡

~~~~~~~~

S10 EP3 Ghosts (Daryl) - Part 2

The second one I want to mention is later in the same episode when Daryl and Michonne rush Carol back to Alexandria/Siddiq for help after she cuts her arm open badly.

We first find Daryl holding onto a column outside to steady himself while he waits to find out if she's okay.

When Siddiq comes out full of hesitation and can't find the words to answer Michone when she asks if Carol is okay, we see a look of pure fear on Daryl's face.

He freezes; he's holding his breath and won't dare move or say anything because he feels like his whole reality is hanging by a thread, and in the moment, the smallest thing or whatever Siddiq is about to say next might make it all fall apart.

~~~~~~~~

S10 EP9 Squeeze (Daryl)

The third moment I wanted to mention is when Carol is hanging off the edge of a rock in the cave, risking her life just so she can try to destroy part of Alpha's horde, but Daryl finds her and is so confused and terrified by what she's doing.

He tries to tell her, to warn her that she's gonna get herself killed if she tries to go through with what she's planning.

Look at how he flinches and instantly loses his breath when her hand slips a little... breaks my heart every time.

When she responds to him by saying, "She killed my boy", Daryl's fear is now also combined with desperation because he realised that he didn't need to warn her about the possibility of getting herself killed; he realised she knew the risk all along and was in such a low place that she was almost welcoming the consequences.

What previously was a tone of alarm in Daryl's voice turns into a whisper, and he's now pleading with her. Without saying the actual words, he's begging her to choose to live again, even if it's just for him.

~~~~~~~~

S10 EP14 Look at the Flowers (Carol)

What Caryl wants is also kind of answered in 10x14, where Carol is having an internal confrontation with herself. Subconsciously, she has chosen and manifested Alpha (who is now dead) as the face and voice of the one confronting her.

Timestamp 19:10 - 20:15

When "Alpha" says to her:

"Being out on your own... you've tried it before. They always pull you back. Always wanting more. Love. Motherhood. Death. But they don't know what you truly want. Admit it. What do you want? Say it..."

Carol responded by saying :

"I want to be alone."

To which "Alpha" says:

"Yeah. That's not it."

So the question here is, if it's not love in general, motherhood, death, or being left alone, then what does Carol actually want?

It's important here to note that Carol already knows the answer to that question. She's only asking herself this question because she hasn't accepted it; she isn't being honest with herself yet.

Timestamp 33:15 - 35:20

While Carol is stuck under the rubble and can't get out as the walker is getting closer to her, "Alpha" taunts her by saying:

"Stop fighting. No matter what you do, you lose people. Sophia, Lizzie, Mika, Henry, Ezekiel... And if you go back, Daryl could be next."

To which Carol responds:

"I could never let that happen."

This internal confrontation with herself and the realization that even when everything else in her world is dark, just having Daryl and making sure he's okay is worth living for and fighting for and that it's not too late for her to start over. The acceptance that that's who/what she truly wants gives her the strength at that moment to fight again, dislocating her shoulder to get free and killing the walker that was about to reach her.

~~~~~~~~

S10 EP16 A Certain Doom (Daryl)

Looking back at 10x01 for a second, Carol asks Daryl to run away with her, but he says no and explains that life in tiny boat cabins is not for him. Then Carol presents the idea of running away on his bike instead, and he's much more enticed by his idea; however, by the end of the episode, they both agree that they can't because they still feel responsible for the people around them and making sure that they're safe against the threat from Alpha. 

Back to 10x16, after Carol went to lead the horde off the cliff, Daryl would have almost been expecting and terrified that she wouldn't come back, that she'd take this "out" and end her own pain in a permanent and self-sacrificial way like she's tried before, but this time, he wouldn't be there to beg her to come back to him and to save her. 

Once again, we find him leaning and steadying himself against a tree, preparing for the worst possible news or, as the episode's title suggests, a certain doom.

And when he sees her again, he can't take his eyes off her.

He doesn't believe his eyes at first; he looks all over her to make sure she's not hurt, but when she speaks, asking him if he's good, he finally breathes again, letting out the breath he's been holding.

The community is safe (for now) since the horde has been dealt with, and his next immediate thought is, "You still got me" and "New Mexico is still out there." He immediately brings back the idea of running away together; why? Because he now knows that this time he got way too close to losing her forever and will not be risking that ever again. He's now ready to leave everything and everyone else he cares about behind, so he'll never risk losing her again. 

He loves her so much that, once again, all else comes second.

When he hugs her, he pulls her in tighter than ever before, making sure he's holding onto as much of her as possible because he needs to know that this is real, that he's actually holding her, that she's right there, unharmed and breathing, and not just a part of a dream of what he wants to see. 

I believe he forgives everything in that instant, including her actions that led to losing Connie, because his pain is not worth causing her any more of it. He will now carry that guilt for himself, taking as much of her burden as possible just to make living a little easier for her. Because he'd rather shoulder all the pain and guilt than lose her, and because he can live with the pain and guilt, but he can't live without her. 

~~~~~~~~

S11 EP24 Rest in Peace (Daryl & Carol)

I believe the events of the season 11 finale forced them to come to a new level of internal acceptance. Seeing the people around them lose the ones they love the most started a spark, and it started to force them to have those internal conversations.

The reality began to sink in for both of them that there had been too many close calls to keep denying themselves what they truly wanted, and It's now more true to them than ever that their tomorrow isn't guaranteed.

We all expected this to be the moment they went for what they'd wanted for so long, but we were wrong; their wounds were just too deep, and their instinct to self-sacrifice was once again too strong.

A year later, we see them once again dedicating their lives to helping others, Carol taking over Hornsby's job and helping put the commonwealth back together, and Daryl setting out to see what's left out there, hoping to find Rick and Michonne and bring them back to their family.

~~~~~~~~

TOWL S01 EP04 What We (Daryl & Carol) - A Parallel

There's a pretty important parallel that I'd like to point out as well. In episode 4 of TOWL, when Micheonne asks Rick what the CRM took from him, Rick responds to her by saying:

"When I got taken, I fought, and I fought, and not just by trying to get away, but by how I would dream. I'd meet up with Carl in my dreams. And that's how I survived in here. Kept me alive... But then I started dreaming of you [Michonne]... and it kept me going... I can't live without you. Without you, I die."

It's important here to note that Rick is speaking to his wife. When he was taken away and at his lowest, he survived because when he went to sleep, he dreamed about Carl (his son) and Michonne (his soulmate) and his happy memories with them.

So what does Daryl dream about when he's taken away and at his lowest? (TWD:DD S01 EP01)

He dreams about Judith (his surrogate daughter) and Carol (his soulmate).

He dreams about Judith telling him that he deserves a happy ending too, and his very next thought is of Carol, seeing her again and being with her again because that's the happy ending he truly wants.

And what does Carol dream about when she's at her lowest in season 10?

She dreams about Henry (her adoptive son) and Daryl (her soulmate)

She dreams about the life she's always wanted, a home, a family and a life with Daryl because that's the happy ending she truly wants.

Also, just a quick mention that even Michonne refers to Rick (her husband) as her friend when speaking to Virgil in TWD 10x08 (TS: 40:00 - 41:20)

~~~~~~~~

So why is TBOC going to be any different? And why was Daryl ending up in France the best thing that could have happened for Caryl?

Because they have finally reached a point where they almost believe they've lost the other, they have been forced to feel the dependence of their existence on the others.

They have never been truly separated before, not to this extent. And what to them was previously only a fear has now become a reality.

When they're reunited, it's going to be with a completely new perspective and total understanding of the extent of their need for one another, and the idea of just having one another in each other's lives will no longer even remotely come close to being sufficient.

I'll elaborate a little...

After all these years, we've seen them constantly save one another and be terrified of losing each other. But no matter what, nothing got them to the point where they felt they needed (more than anything) to confess to the other. So far, everything they have faced during the main show has been different shades of the same thing, and the urgency was never high enough to outweigh their self-doubt and insecurities.

What France has given us is a whole new level of steaks. Where we'll find them in season 2 is on the verge of believing that they'll never be able to see each other again; this, coupled with the fact that they don't even know if the other is even alive, and the fact that the distance and time apart has given them a true taste of how much they need the other, we now have the perfect and unique recipe for something that outweighs their self-doubts and insecurities.

It's the age-old idea of you don't know what you have until it's gone. The difference between:

Watching everyone around them lose the people they love most: they empathise with them, their heart breaks for them, they may even be devastated by that loss, and ultimately, it probably makes them cherish the ones they still have even more.

They, themselves, losing the person they love most: this is something that needs to be experienced to be understood. It's reality shifting, and the pain/loss outweighs anything else.

And now, after experiencing that loss for themselves, by some miracle, they're given another chance with that person... what a way to completely shift someone's priorities and ability to act past insecurities.

~~~~~~~~

To wrap up I wanna go back to Norman's words from the NYCC TBOC press conference:

"[Carol] feels something's wrong. They have that kind of bond, where there's a lot of unspoken things that are said... the bonds that we made in the flagship show are still very strong... [Carol] can take care of herself, of course... but the bond just keeps getting stronger and stronger..."

And David Zabel's words from his interview with Entertainment Weekly (interview link):

"The main focus of season 2 for me was always Daryl and Carol coming back together and what does that mean? And it becomes ultimately a story about how we as people can save each other. She's trying to find him, but in the process of telling that story: How are they ultimately getting to a place where they're kind of saving each other?...showing what's happening inside these characters as people in the most intimate personal way"

Daryl and Carol have loved and cared for each other so profoundly, especially when they couldn't love themselves, even to the point of sacrificing their own happiness to prioritise the others. If that is not the true meaning of soulmates, then I don't know what is. And we all know that some of the greatest loves are routed in the truest friendships.

~~~~~~~~

Thank you to everyone who read through this! I know it was an extra long one, and it could have been even longer, but I've decided to post their moments from 10C separately, as there's a lot more to break down there. I really enjoyed writing this, and I'm so happy/grateful that I have this platform to share these thoughts with you all. I'd love to know your thoughts on the things I've mentioned or missed ♡♡♡

As some of you already know, I'll be attending the Tribeca Premiere for TBOC in 9 days. After that, I'd like to write and share a spoiler-free-ish afterthought for this post, including what I've taken away from episode 1, what was said during the cast panel afterwards, and my thoughts on what's to come for Caryl. If anyone would like to be tagged when that's posted, please let me know.

I'll be posting a more detailed and spoilery analysis of Episode 1 once it's actually released.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | June 24th-30th 2024

Happy Canada Day to all my fellow Canadians! Here comes a more reasonable weekly recap compared to last week :P

Complete

see the stars with my morning eyes by trippedandfell/ @trippedandfell (Teacher Buck AU | 3K | Teen): “So,” Buck announces, sitting down between Hen and Chimney at the concessions stand. “I think Eddie’s trying to get me to sleep with him and his fiancée.” or: Eddie calls Lucy his partner. Buck extrapolates.

kiss my lips, feel the rhythm of your heart and hips by Daffi_990_ao3/ @daffi-990 (Post-S7, Getting Together | 3K | Mature): After months of clawing at the ground and scraping through the mud of his memories of his relationship with Shannon, his childhood and a whole bunch of religious guilt, Eddie had finally accepted the truth about his marriage and himself. He’s queer. His sexuality isn’t the only thing he’s discovered though. Eddie Diaz is queer and he is in love with Evan Buckley.

Being Selfish by Inell/ @inell (Post-7x10: All Fall Down, Getting Together | 4K | Teen): It’s been a little more than six weeks since Eddie’s life became a chaotic mess. Luckily, he’s had Buck’s support and constant presence to help him get through it.

in the rough draft, [s]he loved you by iinryer/ @iinryer (S5, Outsider POV | 5K | General): during the flight home to LA after ramon's retirement party, eddie tries to write down some things he wants to say to buck

wrap your arms around me, baby boy by marviless/ @marviless (Getting Together | 6K | Teen): in which buck pretends to be asleep and overhears something he shouldn't.

🔥 i’ve seen a couple suns that set forever by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S7, Christopher POV | 7K | General): Freshly home from Texas and faced with the prospect of his dad's feelings for Buck, Christopher's abandonment issues surface. A conversation with Bobby, and realizing the parallels between Buck's relationship with Bobby, and his relationship with Buck, gives Chris the perspective he needs.

i'll be the north star that takes you home by marviless/ @marviless (Post-S7, Getting Together | 8K | General): eddie is moving back to el paso for the summer.

Just to Chase the Pain Away by UnderwaterNinja/ @underwaterninja13 (BTHB: Public Humiliation, BDSM, Subdrop | 11K | Explicit): Buck makes the poor decision to go to a kink club to deal with his emotions. After he's left with no aftercare, someone comes to his rescue.

Firehouse Baby by Nejinee/ @nejineeee (S2-S7, Getting Together | 21K | Explicit): One day, Eddie put his hand on Buck’s thigh and Buck hasn’t stopped thinking about it since.

🔥 something touched me (like a knife-blade) by kithmet/ @kithmet (Alternate S7 Finale, Getting Together | 42K | Explicit): Eddie self-implodes. Christopher, seeking refuge, flees to Buck—whose priorities amount to, in varying order: take in the kid, get Eddie to talk to him, and keep the three of them afloat in the process. (Oh, and Tommy’s there too. He thinks.)

🔥 Further Than Blood (Or Than Bones) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampires AU | 50K | Explicit): Once, Eddie chose to save a newly turned against his better judgment. Five hundred years ago, Buck was saved by a rescuer he thought was a hallucination. Now they're together again and about to find out just how far either of them will go to try and deny what they are to each other.

🔥 Descendants of Cyrano by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (~S7, Dungeons&Dragons, Getting Together | 55K | Explicit): People have their characters romance each other all the time while playing Dungeons & Dragons. There's deep meaningful monologues and sometimes some crying. It's normal. "Normal" is definitely not the word for whatever Buck and Eddie are inflicting on the rest of the 118.

WIP

🔥 If You Can Make the Music by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, | 2/5 | 5K | Mature): Spin-off Sequel to Evan Buckley & the Coma-Verse of Madness - Chapter 5 (Seaside): A year after a whirlwind two week love affair with bartender Buck in Galveston, Texas, Eddie Diaz finds himself coincidentally relocating to the area. But when he attempts to reconnect with Buck, he's in for an unfortunate surprise. (Part 3 of Coma-Verse)

Podfics

[podfic] but it feels like a fortress when the weather gets bad by TheBoyWhoWalksInTheLight/ @aro-of-artemis (Post-3x15: Eddie Begins | 20-30min | Teen): Buck has a nightmare about Eddie dying, but he also has a key to Eddie's house.

Re-Read

Like a Sack of Bricks by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Feelings Realization | 2K | Teen): One word from Christopher, and Eddie's realizing he's made a serious miscalculation about his best friend.

[glitter-stained]

Okay so I got a wonderful ask that I started to respond to and I saved it in the drafts to look up the English translation of a word and now the ask is gone because tumblr hates me, hope you see this anyway anon. Here are the bullet points from the essay I just lost :

> being a HS dropout doesn't make you ignorant! I didn't know of the study you mentioned it sounds super interesting

> I'm not a bio/medicine student, what I do know about malnutrition I know from anorexia in children, there are probably nuances between the two I don't have access to

> size, like most stuff, is determined by the interaction between your genes and your environment.

> malnutrition absolutely stunts growth, basically the body goes into battery saving mode to preserve what resources it has and goes "well i'm not gonna grow up/develop until you start feeding me again". (This is why BMI is a fucking stupid tool to diagnose anorexia especially in children, it's so dumb.)

> can you play catch-up with growth ? Yes and no. There's something called "chronotopic constraints" which means that there are things in a person's development that need to happen at a specific given time for other stuff to happen later, like a chain reaction. This is true for embryo development, for cognitive abilities (that's why ADHD symptoms change over time) and for physical development like growth. So basically, whether or not a child who has been starved can catch up on growth depends, amongst other stuff, on their base metabolism, the amount of food they were eating, for how long they were starving and at what time window they were starving. And because of the domino effect I mentioned, you can catch up "partially": picture a child who, upon getting food, starts growing again, goes through late puberty, and ends up much tinier as an adult than both his parents were but still bigger than he was as a teenager.

> So how can we know that stuff ? You're very right that we can't separate twin babies, starve one and feed the other, it's not very ethical. But we can run stuff like correlational studies where we take a group of a whole lot of kids who have suffered from malnutrition measure their height at 6, at 8, at 10, at 15, 18 and 20 (this is called a longitudinal study) and say "hey, children who were starved tend to, on average, be way smaller than the average child their age, and they don't all fully catch up on their growth, and this catch-up depends on specific time windows" etc. As I said, a lot of my knowledge comes from the study of anorexia in children, so there are also a lot of case studies of children who didn't eat at specific time periods and had their growth stunted potentially forever (as well as a lot of other stuff).

> so if it depends/catch up is possible, why do you think the Pit is what "cured" Jason's malnutrition:

Well, the issue with Jason is we don't have access to for how long he was in a situation of food scarcity for. We know his parents were poor, but how about before Willis went to jail: if I understood correctly the man was in and out, so there probably was an uneven source of revenue in that side. And how about when Catherine got sick? Medical care costs a lot of money, not to mention heroin; he was probably in food scarcity at least once Willis got caught and sent to jail and he had to take care of his mom himself, before he even ended up in the streets. In the streets, Jason calls himself his own man and steals to survive, so he doesn't have like zero access to food, but no, seeing where Jason lives and that his income source at some point is "stealing from batman" i'd bet on pretty severe food scarcity. Not starving enough to die and not starving/not suffering from malnutrition are pretty different goals after all. Then Jason ends up with Batman and hey! Regular food intake. Though looking at his workout in the six months following his adoption is a little concerning, it's comic book science, let's just assume he's getting enough food and robin gives him enough magic that it's not a problem for his growth. Yippee, Jay can start growing again! Except when he dies, he's still tiny. Not as small as when he got adopted, but like, tiny (4"6 I believe? At 15.) This, along with how big Willis was and if we consider Jason's height in UTH, suggests that his growth is still stunted after three years of consistent adequate nutrition.

Obviously he doesn't grow when he's dead, but there's no reason he wouldn't grow in his coma, he's being fed and basically sleeping so no scarcity at that moment (though some level of muscle atrophy is to be expected). And then he's back to the streets, deeply dissociated, suffering from mysterious (as in hare to evaluate) brain damage and with muscle atrophy, for around a year -he's seen finding food, but again, he's most definitely not eating enough at that time. And then, he's in the league, where he definitely gets enough food, Talia isn't gonna starve that kid. So, through his childhood and teenagehood,Jason goes through several periods of long starvation. Though I don't know the intricacies of critical periods and chronotopic constraints in physical growth, the probability of him not receiving food during some of these periods is very high imo. And then of course there's the fact that not only does he go through intense stress/trauma/adverse childhood experiences for most of his childhood and teenagehood, which as you pointed out also stunts growth, but since he's still a teenager/growing in Lost Days and UTH and considering his mental state in these stories, this could also effect his growth. And also, even if Jason would have caught up eventually, catching up on growth takes time!

So those are all the arguments that lead me to conclude: while it's technically possible for Jason to have been this big in UTH without the Pit influence, I don't find it very probable. And also of course a question of taste: they could have made Jason tiny in UTH, and they didn't. Cowards.

[kyokutsu-sama]

Black lingerie

"Go ahead, do your job captain"|Shunsui x reader Tw: Nsfw content below the line Author's note: I wrote this a while ago and had it saved in my drafts, I hope you like it. I'm going to miss this man for six months 😫(Bleach cour 3 returns in march if I'm not wrong🤔)

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

You knew, he loved it when you wore that damn black lace that highlighted your beauty and marked your curves that he so loved running with his two hands and not to mention the thigh high you wore that drove him crazy.

You, on the other hand, loved to surprise him by dressing like that, seeing him struggling to say something but not being able to speak properly because all your desire was visible in his eyes. He gave you all the attention in the world and didn't focus on anything other than you. You loved being the center of his attention.

He seemed busy the last few days, you felt proud of him for becoming the main captain but at the same time he also stole time for you to be together.

You wore the lingerie with the thigh high that hugged your legs, you put on your kimono and went to the first division office.

You slowly opened the door and entered, there was no one else there besides him and the papers on the table, he had a tired look but he wouldn't deny your surprise for anything.

"You look tired, has the work been difficult?"You said in a seductive voice as you closed the door and approaching the table in slow steps

"A little, unfortunately I have to be the one to finish it. I'm sorry if I made you wait for me so late"He said in a low voice 

"There's no need to apologize"You said, starting to undo the kimono knot  "I just came here to give you a little help"You smiled, teasing him.

He looked at you as he saw the fabric slide off your shoulders revealing your body wearing that damn lace again, he almost had a heart attack right there when he saw it.

"A little help you say?"He chuckled

"Yes, why not? Don't you like it?"You said, opening your bra and placing it aside next to your kimono.

"I'm loving my dear Y/n"His eyes roamed your body and put the reports aside for a moment.

"I'm glad you liked it"You looked into his eyes as you slid your panties down your legs

You were only wearing the thigh high, leaving the rest of your body exposed to him. He licked his lips as he thought about all the things he was going to do to you.

"You didn't need to take off your clothes, I could take care of that myself"He winked

"I wanted to surprise you"You said, placing yourself between him and the table

"I'm grateful for that"He said looking at your thighs and grabbing the arms of the chair trying to relieve the tension

"Go ahead, do your job captain"You leaned over him and whispered close to his lips

"Which one ?"He ask in a deep voice and with a lustful look

"You decide, but if I were you I would value priorities"You said, sitting on the table leaning on your forearms and spreading your legs

"Well, with you in that position, it's going to be a little hard for me" His breathing felt heavy and his body was already heating up when he was faced with that vision

"Do your best" You winked at him as you slid your one of your hands to the middle of your legs touching yourself

He smiled and removed the flowered kimono from his shoulders, he stood up and leaned over your body placing his hand on the edge of the table. You put your hand aside and laid on the table when you felt one of his hands run down one of your thighs.

"You have no idea how much I love seeing you wearing them"He whispered in your ear while running his hand down your thighs covered by the thin black fabric.

"That's why I put them on"

"How sweet of you"

He kissed you gently even though he wanted to lose control at that moment, you could already feel something brush against your thigh, he was hard and ready to do crazy things. He moved away from your lips and knelt down between your legs, he held your waist and sucked your wet and sensitive slit. You arched your back and held his hair, his tongue tasted your flesh and you rolled your eyes in pleasure. He sucked your clit as he looked up at you and saw you moaning and squirming, he smiled and distributed wet kisses along your folds. He used one of his hands to rub you while his tongue penetrated you.

You felt your legs tremble when his beard brushed against the inside of your thigh, you moved your hips a little, rubbing against his face. You wanted to have him as close as you could so you didn't miss a second of what he was doing because he was so good. His fingers started rubbing you faster and you felt your insides tighten, you tilted your head back and whimpered.

"Shun…ahh I'm close"

You couldn't describe how much you were loving the feeling of his fingers making circular movements and leaving you overstimulated as your cum oozed out and cured the man's thirst between your legs. Although he could spend hours there drinking those fluids that dripped directly onto his tongue. He stopped moving his fingers and grabbed your thighs as he moved away from your folds, he licked his lips and got up from the chair.

Your breathing was uneven, the heat was building up everywhere. He pulled down his underwear and used his hands to keep your legs open, you licked your lips when you saw his cock coming out of his pants.

He held one of your legs and used the other hand to place it into you, you held the edge of the table behind you and moaned his name after feeling him opening your insides.

He couldn't help but let out a long heavy sigh as he watched you take it so well, the sight of having you open and ready to be fucked on top of his desk made him want to have you all night long.

You felt your body burn with pleasure and excitement when his dick entered your wet slits and went deep into you, his hands grabbed your thighs and marked your flesh making you moan his name loudly.

"That's right, say my name my dear petal"He whispered next to your lips

You leaned your head back and moan his name with a slight whimper feeling his pelvis hit against your sensitive clit each time he entered you deep. You've been cravin for it all day, having it there makes you feel so good. His eyes were shining with lust at that moment, you had an effect on him and he was proud of it and much less hid how much he loved being inside you.

He increased the pace of his thrusts a little while holding your body, his long and messy hair was falling over his bare shoulders giving you a view of how perfect he looked.

"Shunsui...Please don't stop...ahh this is so good"You said between the moans feeling him thrusting you hard

"Are you enjoying this? Are you enjoying how I'm fucking you?" He said, moving faster and faster

"Yes…Ohh fuck I love it"You said with heavy breathing

He released a heavy sigh after hearing your words, you were turning him on too much and he could already feel his cock pulsing inside your wet and tight interior. He wanted to have you come to him, he wanted to see your body writhing with pleasure on that table and he wouldn't stop until he had it.

You felt your legs tremble and your body tense and a short time later you came all over his length just as he wanted to see, he leaned over you placing one hand on the edge of the table and kissed you. You ran your fingers on the skin of his back while he still remained inside you.

"Do you want me to come in you?" He said, brushing his lips with yours

"Yeah.. please, give it to me" You whimpered

He kissed you and in a short time he filled you and you moaned into his mouth, feeling the heat between your legs accumulate, the drops of his fluids dripped out of you when he withdrew. He ran two fingers through your slit pushing the liquid inside you and you let out a moan. He pulled on his pants and tried to catch his breath.

"Well, I think we made a mess here"He said seeing some papers lying on the floor

"Actually you made two messes here" You said, sitting on the edge of the table

"Yes…literally two"He looked at you and smiled

"I think you should take care of this as soon as possible unless you want your lieutenant to question you about what happened"

"And I would say it would be because of those damn socks. You should wear them more often" He ran his hands around your waist

"If you keep doing your work without flinching, I promise to use them every day"

“And what won’t I do for you and those beautiful legs” He said running his hands up your thighs

"Shut up you pervert"You said slapping his hands

[jamespottersmixtape]

rosekiller microfic: goldilocks 1,632 words

a bit of soft rosekiller!! this is inspired by @myrows rosekiller art which you can find here! it made me want to weep a little when I first saw it, so naturally I had to write something haha :) ngl this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and it's by no means perfect but enjoy!! <3

Barty has always cherished quiet nights at Hogwarts.

When the chatter in the halls finally dies down enough for his thoughts to come back to him and homework has been carelessly tossed aside to save for tomorrow.

There’s a sense of serenity to it all that Barty rarely finds elsewhere. A break that he craves most at the end of a particularly stressful day.

Sixth year courses have been—to put it lightly, beating his ass—no matter how well he does. Today, it had taken him ten tries to get the nonverbal spell to work in Transfiguration. Ten.

Usually Barty needs no more than six tries for complicated spells, less than that for complex potions. Disregarding that he still did it faster than over half the class, now he’s just fucking tired.

He groans and shoves his schoolbag off the bed, letting it hit the floor with a soft thud, then flops backwards dramatically onto his pillows. The dorm room is dim, save for a few small candles on his bedside table. Cloaked in various shadows that dance around the room from the flickering flame.

Barty closes his eyes, taking a spare second to just breathe. There’s the soft white noise of the shower running in the background—Evan is taking forever, as usual—and sometimes Barty imagines he can hear the push and pull of the black lake against their walls. Lack of windows be damned.

It isn’t long before the water shuts off, and Barty feels the smallest smile tug at the corners of his mouth. It’s just the two of them for now, Regulus off doing god knows what at this hour. So naturally, a lot of built up restraint is needed for Barty not to rip open the bathroom door. To go and take in the sight of a freshly showered Evan and gather him in his arms before he can be stopped.

He’s been in there for less than thirty minutes but fuck it, Barty misses him.

Grumbling, he goes to change into the first clothes he can find. Settling for some years old joggers and a loose tank top, the soft fabric already making him drowsy.

The bathroom door creaks open and his head snaps up, immediately catching Evan’s eye. Barty really can’t help it when his heart skips a beat.

Evan raises his eyebrows, chuckling when Barty takes no subtlety in checking him out. His hair is dry, most likely done by magic. A thin blue t-shirt hangs off his shorter frame and each step taken towards Barty casts golden shadows over his skin.

Looking like everything warm and comfortable; the smell of his shampoo in the air so familiar that it hurts.

Barty’s smirk is wicked when he tugs Evan by his shirt into a light kiss. He makes a startled noise but melts into Barty’s touch regardless, fingers cupping his chin. The kiss is short but effective in making Barty’s head go all fuzzy.

“What happened to hello?” Evan asks when they pull apart—though not very far—now standing chest to chest. Evan’s bare feet fit in between his socked ones.

 Barty makes sure to slather his words in extra charm, grinning. “Hello, gorgeous.” 

“Wow, smooth talker,” Evan deadpans.

“You know you love it, Goldilocks.”

Barty takes a blonde strand between two fingers, tugging lightly at the end and earning him a deep scowl.

“I told you that nickname is stupid.” Evan rolls his eyes but Barty catches the blush high on his cheekbones. A light dusting of pinks and reds that work to compliment his freckles. Barty pokes him on one cheek.

“And I told you I don’t care.”

“Brat.”

Barty hums noncommittally, threading their fingers together. Warmth settles in his chest from the steady weight of Evan’s hand.

He leads Evan past the emerald green curtains of his bed and down onto the soft mattress. It’s a routine they’ve created over the last few months, and every time Barty wraps the covers around them it becomes harder and harder to let Evan slip back into his own bed. Something about having him in his arms means a night free of restless tossing and turning.

They lie facing each other for a few minutes, minimal space between them and their heads resting on one pillow. Quiet voices and even quieter laughs, a sacred bubble that neither of them dare to pop.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Barty laughs, his voice barely above a whisper. “You told Cresswell what?”

Evan frowns, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I told him…that if he feels the need to keep staring at you in class then maybe I should tape his fucking eyes open. You know, that way he wouldn’t miss it when I inevitably snog you right in front of him.”

“Evan!” Barty can’t help it, his laugh is loud when it bursts from his chest.

“Well, maybe I left out that last bit…”

It takes him a minute before his laughter dies down, the quiet settling back in. “You jealous?” Barty teases, raising an eyebrow.

Evan purses his lips. “No.”

Barty stares at him knowingly.

Silence.

Evan averts his eyes.

“Mhm sure, come here.”

He drags Evan in by his waist, the pair of them fumbling around until Evan’s head relaxes in the crook of Barty’s neck and his forearm rests over his chest. Their sides pressed together, Barty smiles—fully content now.

Wordlessly, Barty ghosts his hand over the warm skin, relishing in the way Evan shivers from the cold metal of the ring on his middle finger.

There’s silence for a few minutes. Evan’s hair brushes the side of his face and his warm breath fans across his chest, their hearts only slightly out of sync as they beat so close together.

It’s a lot for Barty to take in sometimes—the whole idea of them. Having someone so delicate, yet so utterly untouchable, be his. If anyone took the time to ask him, though, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

Barty knows Evan’s eyes are closed, can see the shadow of his eyelashes. He takes the opportunity to trace over his freckles; a messy constellation that follows the high points of his cheeks, crosses sporadically over the bridge of his nose.

Evan scrunches his face up, which should not be so endearing. “That tickles.”

Barty turns his head, placing the quickest of kisses atop of Evan’s forehead, debating whether or not he should just give in and lick the side of his face. Then ultimately deciding against it—Evan did just take a shower—he’ll be nice for once.

“I wasn’t jealous. I don’t get jealous,” Evan mumbles, his voice lulled and tired sounding.

“Of course not, Ev.” Barty resists rolling his eyes, Evan can’t see his face anyway. 

“Besides,” Barty continues, “If you were jealous, I don’t mind you threatening people for me…it’s kinda hot.”

Evan smacks him lightly across the chest, but snuggles deeper against his shoulder. Which definitely does not do a weird flippy thing to Barty’s stomach. Nope, not at all.

“Mm okay,” Evan yawns. Which, Barty can’t blame him. Exhaustion is slowly taking over his body the longer they lie here. At this point all he wants to do is blow out the candles and fall asleep. Keep Evan next to him the whole night.

“Hey Goldilocks.”

“Mhm…” Evan must be too tired to even rebuke the nickname.

“Reg is going to freak out if he finds you here in my bed.”

Evan huffs, not very different from a petulant child. He makes no move to get up or even open his eyes. “I don’t care.”

This time Barty can’t hold back his yawn. He shuts his eyes and allows his body to sink further into the bed. Further into Evan. “Maybe we can tell Potter how madly in love with him Reg is. Then they can finally leave us alone.”

“Payback,” Evan snorts.

They both fall asleep without really meaning to. Tangled limbs beneath the covers and hands that aren’t inclined to let go. As his mind quiets down, something in Barty feels settled. A puzzle piece slotting into place after searching and searching for the edge that matches. Evan tends to have that effect on him, he’s come to notice.

All is quiet for a while, the whole school in a coinciding state of slumber. A time when portraits snore softly and only ghosts roam the halls, the usual lively presence of magic at bay for now.

But not even thirty minutes later they’re awoken with a loud thud and a significantly darker room—Barty had blown the candles out after all—just in case.

“Lumos,” someone whispers.

Regulus stands at the end of Barty’s bed, hands on his hips and a look of annoyance on his face. His wand is now lit and shining far too bright for Barty’s liking.

“What the fuck, Reg?” he asks groggily. Evan groans beside him and tries to hide his face.

“Not my fault I tripped over your fucking books, Barty,” Regulus hisses. “And you guys are gross. You said no PDA in the dorm.”

Barty squints and gestures for him to lower his wand. Regulus does so slowly. “Yeah, well I’m a fucking liar. Let us sleep.”

It’s with a lot of grumbling and a sharp glare that Regulus turns and stalks to his side of the room. When he shuts himself in the bathroom Barty reaches for his own wand and spells his curtains closed.

He has Evan back in his arms in no time, steady and real and here. Absolutely not going anywhere, if Barty has a say in it. His fingers resume their path over his arm, tracing nonsensical shapes that neither can decipher. Before they both drift off again a thought pops into Barty’s head.

“We are definitely getting him back for this.”

[simshousewindsor]

EVERYTHING'S POLITICAL

KENTLY PALACE • BEFORE SUNRISE •

Prince Louis: (running)

Prince Louis: (running)

Prince Louis: (running)

Prince Louis: (running) Margot? It’s freezing—come inside.

Duchess Margot: (voice thin) He’s still there, Louis. Every time I close my eyes. I hear the thump, the wheel judder—everything stops—and then nothing but night.

Duchess Margot: Six months, and it’s louder now. Louder than the tires, louder than the music that night. I try to sleep and the dark fills with him.

Prince Louis: Listen to me. You’re here. I’m here. We’ll get you away from these walls—away from all of it.

Duchess Margot: I can’t breathe here. The corridors echo. The portraits watch. When the guards click their boots, I think they’ve come for me.

Prince Louis: (firm) Then we go today. First light. I’ll petition Katherine for leave—formal or not. I won’t let you drown in this place.

Duchess Margot: She’ll say no. She’ll think you’re shirking duty, chasing a whim.

Prince Louis: Then she’ll hear what duty really costs. This isn't political!

Prince Louis: (softer) You saved me once. Now I’ll save you.

Prince Louis: Come. Dawn is near. Let’s go inside—pack only what you need.

- - - - - LATER - - - - -

QUEEN'S CHAMBER • BUCKINGSIM PALACE

(Lorenzo enters)

Lorenzo [Asst Private Secretary]: (bows) I'm sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty.

Martin [Private Secretary]: Lorenzo.

Lorenzo [A.P.S.]: Uh, I'm afraid there's been an incident in a coastal village in South Brindleton Bay. Recent heavy rain caused a massive sinkhole beneath a junior school, swallowing part of the structure. Significant loss of life appears imminent. I would suggest an immediate response.

Martin [P.S.]: What kind of response?

Lorenzo [A.P.S.]: A statement of condolence. I've taken the liberty of doing a quick draft.

Martin [P.S.]: May I?

Lorenzo [A.P.S.]: Please.

Martin [P.S.]: (reading) "I am shocked and distressed to learn of the horrible disaster which has taken place at Abersat. Please convey a message of heartfelt sympathy from my husband and myself, to the young sim's parents and to the families of those who have lost their lives. Signed, Katherine R."

Queen Katherine: (nods in approval)

Lorenzo [A.P.S.]: Downing Street has requested the use of an aircraft of the Queen's flight so that the new PM can visit the site of the tragedy later today. I assume that's a yes.

Queen Katherine: Of course!

Lorenzo [A.P.S.]: Unless you were planning... to visit today yourself?

Martin [P.S.]: (confused) What a question!

Queen Katherine: I don't think now is the appropriate time.

Queen Katherine: One of the most unfortunate things about being sovereign, I have discovered, is that you paralyze virtually any situation you walk into. The absolute last thing emergency and rescue services need, when they're working against the clock, is a queen showing up. I would like hourly updates.

Lorenzo [A.P.S.]: Thank you, ma'am.

(Lorenzo exits)

Queen Katherine: (stunned) I can think of nothing else but those poor children.

Martin [P.S.]: Forgive me, ma'am. There's just one more appointment to confirm today. A five o'clock reception for Sir Walter Vilis.

- - - - - LATER - - - - -

EASTON LANDING HUB • KENT

Tommy Udaku [Prime Minister]: So the queen doesn't think its a good idea to show up?

Austin Mathers [Aide]: That is what palace sources are saying. She's afraid of stealing the spotlight.

Tommy [P.M.]: I'm not sure I agree.

Tommy [P.M.]: Young sims have died. A community, that she reigns over, is now devastated. As sovereign, she should be on the ground showing comfort to her sims. Her not showing visible support will look very bad on the monarchy!

Austin [Aide]: You think so?

Tommy [P.M.]: The more I learn about this incident, this could turn nasty very quickly.

Austin [Aide]: This is an accident caused by unprecedented rainfall. It's not political!

Tommy [P.M.]: Everything is political, Austin.

Previous | Beginning | Next

[kirensbird]

YOOOO MB I THOUGHT I POSTED THIS ALREADY BUT I JUST SAVED IT TO DRAFT AGHHHHH anyways here yall go

ayup so as I did with wolfsong I took notes while reading ravensong. I LOVED the first half of the book. second half as much. STILL LOVED IT but like I didn't feel as emotional as I felt reading most if not all of wolfsong. anyways 10/10 loved it would erase my memory to read it again

Ravensong

"Like the earth. Like dirt leaves and rain—"

pg 2 - Why, why, why.

pg 6 - "Why can't you say it?" "There's nothing to say." "He loved you,"

pg 7 - "You left me first."

pg 8 - though I'd been a child and hadn't known what it meant.

Three Years

One Month

Twenty-Six Days

pg 17 - packpackpack

pg 22 - "It's like...the earth. Lime dirth and leaves and rain—"

pg 23 - "You don't need to protect me." "Yes, I do,"

pg 28 - Sometimes they were blue. But most times, they burned.

pg 30 - my first thought was Mark and Mark and Mark

pg 31 - god I would hate to be on Gorodo's place rn. these dumb fucking wolves I swear

pg 38 - Hungry like the Wolf - Duran Duran

pg 39 - I'm sorry

- I found the smell

pg 42 - AHHHH YOUNG MARK AND GORDO ARE SO CUTE

- Joe was lucky and extorvert puppy while Mark was a shy puppy

- I wondered if he didn't get enough pussy. I wondered what pussy was.

pg 43 - WTF IS HAPPENING LMAO

pg 44 - SOMEONE STOP THESE KIDS OMG LOL

pg 51 "Like an approaching storm."

pg 52 - omg Mark is a hopeless romantic lmao

pg 56 - NOOOOO he was gonna give him his wolf 🥺🥺

- HE GAVE HIM A RAVEN 😭😭😭

pg 59 - the cutiesss also Our Life traumatized me from my crush jumping through the window lmao

pg 67 - I got spoiled by this but this is gonna be the cutest shit ever when it happens

pg 69 - I fucking knew it he had a crush on Thomas

- He looked like a wolf

pg 71 - "it was candy canes and pinecones. It was epic and awesome."

pg 73 - Mark was midnight. Mark was sad. Mark was blue.

pg 81 - doggy cuddles :((

pg 83 - I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE

pg 87 - He was my shadow

pg 89 - what's these fucking wolves and their age gaps

pg 90 - just boys being boys (I'm gonna cry)

pg 93 - you bitch

pg 101- YES CARTER PLEASE SHUT UP

pg 104 - ofc u waved at a blind person

pg 107 - this is the worst pack ever

pg 111 - OMG THEYRE LOTERALLY END GAME

pg 115 - But I had been running with wolves for going on three years, and I wasn't the man I used to be.

pg 120 - this is the worst coming out ever

pg 123 - WHY DOES HE SOUND LIKE A FATHER (he is one BUT NOT MARKS LMAO)

pg 124 - I SWEAR MARK IF UR THE ONE WHO GAVE JOE THE IDEA TO GIVE OX THOSE DEAD ANIMALS IM GONNA—

pg 137 - why does his recurring memory have to be so sad why is it Mark injured and dying why couldn't have been like like Ox's :((

pg 142 - I hate this

pg 143 - I hate this

- "Choose me. Mark."

pg 145 - I allowed myself one last tear over Mark Bennett. But that was it.

pg 147 - One Year Later

- I think I'm gonna puke

ph 149 - technology was an enemy I had yet to destroy.

pg 150 - BRI'ISH

- I was forty years old, and I belonged to a pack of meddlesome bitches.

- we know u love them Gordo <3

pg 152 - OH GOD THEY SENSED ALL OF THAT

pg 154 - I wish I was Robbie rn lmao

ph 158 - IMMEDITALY OK GORDO LMAO

pg 159 - markmarkmark

- RICO U ARE NOT MUCH BETTER

pg 160 - for once I agree with u Jessie

- huhhuhhuh I think I hate this pack

- "I like learning things that will scar me for life." thanks carter

pg 161 - nice

pg 165 - AROMANTIC TANNER LETS GOOO

pg 166 - me too Carter

pg 183 - I decided not to murder them because it would be wrong but because it would have been a mess to deal with

- murder eyebrows :))

pg 185 - WTF JESSIE LMAO

pg 188 - omg it's another intervention

pg 190 - they're so fucking stupid I hate them (there is no but I'm going to murder them after gordo does)

pg 192 - "I'm not grumpier than normal. I'm always like this."

pg 194 - MARK TAKE THE HINT PLEASE

pg 195 - Hi Dale nice to meet you. You should probably run.

- always I kinda wanna see a threesome but don't tell nobody

pg 200 - "It's smoke and ash. But underneath, there's is still dirt and leaves and rain."

pg 215 - "You aren't as much of an asshole as you want everyone to think you are. It's...comforting." "Fuck off, Mark."

pg 230 - my old man yaoi 🥺🥺🥺

- Because I loved him too,

- I wanted to kill him. I wanted to fuck him. I wanted him to tear me apart.

pg 231 - "Gordo," he said, ever the wolf. "No," I said, the perfect prey.

- "But I swear I'm going to be your last." HELP IM CRYING THIS IS ACTUALLY PEAK WTF

pg 233 - mother knows best and she ain't even ur mother lmao

pg 234 - NO ELIZABETH U WERE SUPPOSE TO BE THE BETTER OF THE BENNETS 😭😭

pg 236 - TELL HIM SISTER LET NO MAN TELL U WHAT TO DO

pg 249 - RICO PLEASEE

- These ridiculous humans. How they had the heart of wolves.

pg 253 - I dreamed of ravens and wolves.

pg 263 - "The boy who ran with wolves."

pg 276 - "Rico didn't get me pregnant I swear." YOU BETTER NOT CAUSE I SWEAR ILL KILL U BOTH

pg 294 - hmmm man scent

pg 298 - oh god I hate this

pg 299 - NOOOOOOO 🥺🥺🥺

pg 301 - OX U CUCK

pg 303 - mmm yes very nice wall indeed Mark

pg 306 - we can smell ur horny Mark 🙁

pg 307 - WAIT IS THAT HE WHO I SHOULDNT KNOW OF YET

pg 310 - "You could have become the villian, Gordo. And it would have been within your rights. Instead you just chose to be an asshole."

- BITE ME???? CAN YALL STOP FLIRTIJG IM DYING OVER HERE

pg 312 - LETS FUCKING GO MARK

pg 313 - DALE U BASTARD U RUINED A PERFECTLY GOOD THREESOME

pg 321 - fr this hurts too much go back to being an asshole

- Jessie???? 🏳️‍🌈?

pg 322 - Carter nooo lmao

pg 323 - Rico had us in the first half lmao

- also what's with Mark and these witches 🤨

pg 331 - "I think I liked it better when we hated each other." "I never hated you, Gordo."

pg 332 - MAKR PLEASE NOW IS NOT THAT TIME

pg 334 - god this is so cute. I can't wiat for borthersong

- OX TOO SOON OMG

pg 335 - NOT THEM PLAYING TUG OF WAR WITH CARTER LMAO

pg 344 - there was a boy and a wolf

pg 348 - I chose the wolf

pg 349 - hot

pg 350 - HOT

- Gordo gurl use ur words

pg 353 - OMG WTF IS HAPPENING

pg 354 - it feels like I'm reading smut wtf

pg 355 - YOO POWER BOTTOM GORDO

pg 361 - OLD MAN YAOI (I'm sorry but they did it first)

pg 367 - gordo might have a teeth kink

pg 390 - I CANT WITH THIS FOUND FAMILY SHIT BRUHHH

pg 392 - I love teasing Carter

pg 393 - NO DONT GIVE ME THAT SHIT AGAIN

pg 396 - "And I believed him. I believed them all."

pg 414 - ever since u lost ur hand gordo Iyouve changed. LIKE WHY ARE U TELLING JOKES NOW

pg 415 - PLEASE (that would be hot but like) NOT NOW

- who is jorking on my peen

pg 417 - "But it will become a part of you, and one day it'll be bearable."

pg 418 - JOE PLEASE

pg 421 - never change Rico never change

pg 422 - And the moon pulled

pg 423 - "Cry 'havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war."

pg 435 - "Look and see what happens to humans who run with wolves."

- kill her please

pg 440 - "Are you with me?" "Gordo."

pg 448 - gurl...

pg 452 - JESSIE PLRASEE I CNAT RIGHT NOW

pg 479 - I didn't understand straight people.

- REAL

pg 485 - "I'll be your hands." "And I'll be your sanity."

- that is such a cute line I love it