#hiding fear to the point that you can't see them

[seosracha]

⸻ SAINT MATTHEW'S ACADEMY II

SYNOPSIS ⸻ heeseung feels helpless as you continue to deny him love, and give it to the one person he can't come to accept- park sunghoon.

PAIRING ⸻ sunghoon x fem!reader x heeseung

GENRE ⸻ rich kids au, smut, fluff, angst

TAGS ⸻ love triangle, cursing, foul language, underage drinking, degrading names, smoking, mentions of doing c0ke, partying, gaslighting, religious themes, obsessive behavior/thoughts, unrequited love, fighting (verbally), mention of physical abuse and blood, desperate sunghoon :D, making out, penetration, unprotected sex,

WORDCOUNT ⸻ 15.2k

PART ONE

MDNI. This is a work is meant for entertainment purposes only. References to products and brands are imaginary and not meant to deprecate their image.

You close your eyes, repeating the words, painting the scene and your back in that room. Those words spoken with so much collapsed indifference by a person that didn’t care to see or talk to you again. There was no point in burdening your memory with the idea of him, the idea of a Lee Heeseung that in this universe, didn’t quite exist. 

Yes- he carried his father’s surname, his name Heeseung- meaning bright and successful. Those were the things that would never change, the things he could never replace or hide. He would always and forever be remembered as Lee Heeseung, son of the hotel giants, and brother of Lee Haejun, the family heir. 

For all his miserable and lonely life he struggled to create a name for himself. For all the 19 years he managed to wrestle with life, the fate stayed the same. He wanted his parents to think of him in any way, even if it was bad, even if it meant he’d be a failure in their eyes. He craved to be something more, something beyond the body he was born in. 

Winter wasn’t his favourite season. He hated wearing a puffer jacket, long socks and heavy boots. He hated the additional weight of all these things with the already pre existing heaviness of his being itself.  

You liked winter- he knew that. He knew how happy it made you to catch a snowflake that’d melt away within seconds of meeting your warm hand. Heeseung also knew he probably ruined it for you on that night- 22 of December, the day that welcomed winter. 

He hasn’t really spoken to his friends since that night- his phone’s been on silent mode and his house, abandoned by him for now. Usually he’d enjoy this, maybe even have a friend join him, but this winter break, the vacation felt insufferable. 

Warm Sydney, Australia, the colour of the inside of his hand almost as light and soft as the skin of his neck and the underside of his forearms, which were rarely exposed to the sun. He remembers how 2 years ago, just a month or two later he was here with Sunghoon, lounging around and sleeping off the scorching heat until one of them finally suggested they should go to the rocks to swim. 

Well this year, he couldn’t quite find himself leaving the white sheets. Heeseung had left so many things unsolved back home, and he feared that by the time he’s back- it’d be too late. He’d leave the air conditioner blasting all day and night, his thoughts running off to all the things he did wrong. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have told you, maybe he shouldn’t have asked his friend for help, maybe he should’ve just left you alone. But how could he- it was stronger than him. 

While the summer in Australia left an unquenchable thirst for more, winter in his hometown was as quiet as ever. 

The inexplicable  animosity hung heavy in the air as you, and everyone else went about their life, trying to forget yesterday, and live with the thought of tomorrow. 

You spent most of your days alone. Sometimes, Jake would drop by. Or Jay. It depended on who made an excuse that day. 

In the midst of a fiery conflict, you found comfort in them. The same people who encouraged behaviour that led you here. It was all broken anyway, so was there really a point in finding the lesser evil? 

Neither of them have spoken to the two boys. Maybe they didn’t want to take sides or maybe, just maybe all of them were waiting for the right moment to end this. This wasn’t friendship, not in the slightest. It was jealousy and competition. 

Trying not to think about it came out to be much easier. Only the countless texts reminded you. The unanswered calls, disconnected lines and unspoken words. 

No more words, you said no more words after his confession. You stayed silent, and that pain flooded you today. The silence stayed with you. Every night you’d spend on a phone call with him, laughing because no matter how hard you begged him, he wouldn’t hang up first, was now filled with heavy breaths and drowning darkness. 

Sunghoon hadn’t gone anywhere this winter. He was supposed to- the first class tickets to Sri Lanka already booked by his mother. When she knocked on his door, 12 hours before they were supposed to leave, he told her he'd fallen ill. Very ill. 

Before Heeseung blocked his number, he sent him a short message. Sunghoon sat in a cold corner on the white bathroom tiles, reading the message. It was enough to let him know that it was over. And even though the unyielding pain in his stomach grew stronger, a small smile twitched at the corner of his bloody lips. He tried to reply, but the text went green. 

When Heeseung first asked him for that favour, he assumed it was just another sick way for him to assert his dominance over you. Another way to make sure you knew Heeseung created what you are today, and no matter what, you’ll always have a piece of him. Sunghoon never thought the boy would tell you the truth in the end. 

Two days before New Years Eve, Jake texted you. 

“Is your brother home?” 

He also attached a photo, indicating that he was already in the area. 

“No” 

The simple reply quickly sent through, and without even checking for another response you flip the phone over. 

Each sound, each notification, you hoped it was from one of them. Heeseung never turned off his location sharing, so you already knew he wasn't around. Sunghoon, well, you had no idea. 

You didn't really know anything about him. How he went about his day, before and after school or on vacation or just on a simple Saturday. You didn't know his favorite color, his favorite food or his favorite song. 

It was never easy to talk to him- he didn't share much or make space for new people in his life. You rarely saw him enjoy things or even crack a smile at the jokes his friends made. That’s exactly what made it hard to figure out if he really meant the things he said and did. 

Your doorbell rings. You turn your phone and see another message from Jake, indicating he’s here. It didn't take him longer than 5 minutes to get here. 

“Hey” you scratch the back of your head, welcoming him in. He’s not awkward in the slightest, kissing your cheek as he enters. 

Jake hasn't been the same since. You can’t quite remember if he’s always been like this or did his friendship with the boys actually influence him that badly. 

Something you always noticed about Jake is how easily influenced he really was. It took one word, one word and he’d be at Heeseung’s feet just waiting to do whatever the boy wanted. He tried so hard to impress them, he fell through with everything in his life- his grades faltered, his relationship with his parents started to rot, and his self respect declined with every passing day. He ruined himself for them. 

Jay wasn’t like that. He never really listened to Heeseung in the first place. And Heeseung realized that pretty quickly. They weren’t particularly close either. Jay had legions of friends outside of school. He didn’t need Heeseung, Sunghoon or Jake but in a way, they needed him. He stuck around because loneliness wasn’t a good look on him, and his peers at school, well, they weren’t quite fond of him. 

“I brought wine” he announces and hands you the bottle of red wine that’s gotten quite cold by now. 

“You know I don’t drink” you look away from the label, now focusing on the boy who’s fixing his hair in the mirror. He doesn’t seem to register what you said as a piece of his brown hair keeps falling onto his forehead. 

He wiggles out of his leather jacket, hanging it on the clothing rack before taking the wine back into his hands “It’s only 12%. You won’t feel it” he ultimately replies. 

He wanders off into the kitchen while you sit down on the grey couch. Jake doesn’t really ask, he never does. It doesn’t bother you, not as much as it used to at least. He searches your cabinets looking for wine glasses which after a short moment, can’t be found in any of them. He settles down for something less extravagant. 

You wouldn’t even dare inviting any of them just a couple months back. You were embarrassed, their houses the size of your whole street. A lot of things have changed since then. 

"Jungwon is hosting for New Years” he started, handing the glass to you. He sat down, his body facing you “Do you want to come?” 

Yang Jungwon was in your grade. His father was a software engineer who developed his own app but also helped countless companies start theirs. Jungwon was the one who helped Jay start his long abandoned website. He always watched his father doing big things, he wanted that too. His mother was a divorce attorney, specializing in family law, charging around $500  per hour. She was the go-to of every miserable wife and all the tired husbands. Jungwon was a pretty normal boy- he grew up with two loving parents that got lucky enough in life to spoil him from the moment he was born. 

“Who else is coming?” you ask, and he shrugs, gulping down almost half  of his glass. 

You look down at yours, uninterested. But before he manages to reply, you copy his action. It doesn't taste good. 

“Probably the same people as always” he leans his head on his hand looking over at you “But from the people you’ll know, uh, Niki and Wonyoung are going to be there for sure. Sunoo probably has nothing better to do and Jay already told me he’s coming” Jake added after a moment and you nodded understandingly. 

“Niki and Wonyoung, huh?” you laugh mockingly, downing the other half of your drink. You wonder how in the world this could be a pleasure to middle aged women “Sunoo told me she went over to Sunghoon’s house two days ago” 

“Jealous?” Jake laughs and you raise your eyebrows. 

“No” he repeats your action and you can tell that he doesn't really buy it. Neither do you. “I’m not jealous, Jake. They can do whatever they want” 

His lips turn into a downwards smile “Sure, sure” he nods, and you playfully kick his leg. He winces at the action in a joking manner, before continuing “Heeseung and Sunghoon might be there too. So if you don't feel comfortable with that, you don't have to go. But me and Jay want you to be there” his tone softens. 

How would it end up this time? Which one of them would say something this time? Do something this time? Or would they ignore you, just like they are now. 

All you wanted was an answer. Nothing more, nothing less. You could even go by without a ‘sorry’. 

“I don’t care. I’d have to face them at school anyways” you answer with a straight smile. 

“Didn’t you hear?” he asks, painting your face with confusion at the statement. You shake your head, and he sits up straight “Karina’s parents are close with Heeseung’s, and she’s been saying some about him changing school’s mid February” 

You are even more confused now. It didn’t make sense. Where would he go? It’s probably just a rumor. 

“But you guys are graduating this year. That can’t be right” he shrugs, just as curious and confused as you. 

“Yeah, I doubt it” you nod with a small sigh, looking outside the window. 

The sun set so much quicker in winter. You barely got to enjoy the day before darkness settled. It  was setting pink today. 

“I’ll go with you guys. On New Years. Just, pick me up if you can” you say and he nods with a small smile. 

______

On that same day, Heeseung landed back in town. His father  asked him to come back in time for the New Years event he was hosting, once again. 

“What a fabulous suit, truly!” a middle aged woman comments, amused. She has a wide, bright smile on her face as she eyes Haejun “Let me guess, Canali?” she coos, a smirk creeping at the corner of her lips. 

Heeseung’s brother chuckles, the forced elegance lacing his  fake smile “Both the suit and overcoat. It’s nothing special though” he smiles, and soothes down the cashmere mantle. 

Lee Haejun runs a hand through his dark, silky hair, his posture relaxed in a ‘cool’ way.

Heeseung thinks it’s pretty humorous, the way Haejun is flirting with a 40 year old woman, whose hair is visibly turning gray. Her husband is probably somewhere in this crowd, trying to get closer to his father, just like all the other men who were lucky enough to even be invited. 

The lady has been ogling his brother for the past 5 minutes, not even noticing Heeseung who stood right next to him. 

He scoffs. 

“Oh, Heeseung. I didn’t notice you” she smiles faintly, but her eyes don’t even linger on him for a second longer, already back in conversation with Haejun “Oh and this scarf! Haejun, you have such phenomenal taste!” she celebrates him again, and he just chuckles at her excitement. 

Heeseung doesn't feel like standing there, looking like a fucking idiot that’s just waiting to get complimented on his Saint Laurent overcoat that quite frankly, was more expensive than Haejun’s. 

He doesn’t feel like being here at all. 

He thinks about everything; how these annual New Year’s dinners have ruined the holiday for him all together, how the man at the table in front of him has a giant bald spot on his head, how the hardbody on his right has pretty fuckable tits even though she’s probably in her mid 40s, how his mother is obviously having an affair with the hotels revenue manager, and most importantly, about you. 

He hasn’t felt anything since that unlucky Sunday night. It was suffocating, to be so conscious of his own decisions. But just like he’d been a coward that time, he still was too afraid to reach out and apologize. 

Maybe soon enough he’d find himself at your front porch, knocking on the door softly, a nice gift in hand, the smile you adore plastered all over his condescending face. 

That’s how it usually worked in his life; even the worst of heartbreaks and fights could be resolved with a pretty bag, new sports car or nice jewelry. That’d work on you too, wouldn’t it? He’d ask one of the maids that looked after his home to pick out something she’d like to recieve, and you’d probably be satisfied with that, maybe even suck him off later. 

Seeing you with Sunghoon enlightened something deep in his soul, something he’d never admit to himself. Heeseung didn't know if it was Sunghoon he was jealous of or you. 

Sunghoon had experienced love in many forms throughout his life. A gentle  and mannerly boy cherished by the women in his life. His kind, youthful energy seemed effortless—something completely out of reach for someone as weathered and unsteady as Lee Heeseung.

You loved him, he already knew that much. So why was it so hard for him to give that back to you, show you that he feels the same? 

He was such a selfish person-he didn't want to see you surviving on your own, or not needing him just as much as he needs you.  

Heeseung understood he could never give you the love you deserved. Yet, the idea of being replaced by Sunghoon was something he refused to accept. 

His eyes wander across the dimly lit space, desperately looking for someone who could give him a reason to leave his table. But he couldn’t stand any of them. He hated their fake pleasantries, their overblown gestures, and the emptiness behind their eyes.

They weren’t here to celebrate the passing year, spread joy and excitement for the coming days. 

All these lost, desperate people were here, hoping, praying to God that maybe this is the day his father notices them, gives them a chance to become as wealthy and glorious as him. 

“I was thinking about Oxford, possibly this upcoming September” he picks up on Haejun’s words and if not for the people and photographers that seemed to be on every possible side, he would’ve punched the shit out of his brother. 

Oxford, Harvard, Princeton, who gave a fuck? 

He sighs again but this time neither Haejun or the lady in front of him pick up on his mannerisms. 

He feels a sudden tap on his shoulder, the feeling making him jump back a bit.He groans under his breath, the sound inaudible for the one behind him, and turns around slowly. 

He didn't expect to see Park Sunghoon here. 

… 

“They don’t have a nice bathroom to do coke in” Heeseung shrugs, nibbling at his bottom lip as Sunghoon breathes out a laugh at his inquiry. 

He looks around the tiled, black bathroom, which is surprisingly empty. The light above the sink flickers in a weird way, and Heeseung wonders if it’s supposed to be like that. 

“We don’t do that anymore” Sunghoon mutters, leaning against the cold, slippery surface of the wall, his head slightly slumped. 

He looks up at Heeseung, his reflection much more familiar in the mirror. They are much closer than he thinks, the same worn out expression all over their faces.  

“Yeah… Guess those days are over” he smiles weakly, although the growing pit in his stomach makes him feel uneasy. 

He’s avoiding the topic, throwing random words in the air as his heart speeds up. Sunghoon’s avoiding it too. The words linger on their tongues but it feels like they're stuck. He can’t stomach starting a serious topic with his friend who's never been there for him in an emotional way. 

“I remember that party so vividly” Heeseung chuckles lightly, watching Sunghoon intently through the mirror. The boy is avoiding eye contact. 

“When Jay took a line and we thought we’d lost him, huh? I remember, yeah” he forces a smile although the memory is definitely not a sweet one.

Heeseung chuckles softly, his thoughts drifting to when they were actually good friends to each other. It wasn’t even that long ago, but so much has happened since that Heeseung almost forgot those times.  

He felt it with you again. In a way you brought that comfort back to him with your soft spoken voice and tender smile. But with you, he was on the brink of inescapable change. Heeseung knew that everyday he was teetering closer to the end. 

He looks back up at Sunghoon, and although his vision is slightly blurred, he notices that the wounds are completely healed now. The only tangible evidence of that night is now gone. 

“Did it leave a scar?” he asks, his voice cracking. He clears his throat, turning to face Sunghoon, who touches the corner of his lip softly. 

He shakes his head “No”. His tone is stony. He suddenly reminds himself to garbage the white button up in his wardrobe. 

“That’s good” Heeseung hums and the silence overcomes them again. It’s uncomfortable and the awkwardness between them bears so much unfamiliarity. It’s such a foreign experience. 

The tension grows thicker as Sunghoon speaks up “You know we can’t avoid it, right?” 

Heeseung feels a bead of sweat trickle down his spine as he ponders the suggestion. What could he possibly say to make it better, to make it disappear? He nods and meets Sunghoon’s unrelenting expression. 

“I don’t really think we could ever be friends again” Sunghoon says, his lip twitching slightly as the words finally roll off his tongue, the admission much more painful than he thought it’d be “Not when we both want the same thing” 

“What?” The words sink into his bones, his flesh shivering as he searches for at least an ounce of discomfort on Sunghoon’s face. 

“No matter what you told me that night, no matter how much you begged me to tell her because you didn't want to know how she’ll react, I know you feel it too. You said you didn't care, but you do, Heeseung. I care too” he explains, his voice stable. It’s almost as if he’s rehearsed this. 

It came to him during that long awaited shower. As the water came over him, so did the realization. 

“If you like it or not, I will keep on trying even if it doesn't work out. But either way, I think this is where it ends between us. I don’t want to be stuck on the idea that it could ever be the same” the air felt heavier with the tension that separated them. 

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. Heeseung never thought it’d come to this. 

“You like her, right? It wasn't something to make her feel better..?” he asked, glossing over the fact that this exact spot set the end of their friendship. 

Glossing over the fact that the relationship between you and him complicated his whole life. Yet a part of him still yearned for you. 

“I’m not like you, Heeseung. I don’t tell girls I like them to make them feel better” he chuckled lowly as Heeseung's expression darkened, taking offense to his words. 

Heeseung scoffed, not quite enjoying the cutting reminder of his bad habits. 

“Do as you please, I don’t give a fuck. But I also don’t plan on making it easy for you. I don't give up what’s mine just like that” Heeseung’s words carry a playful edge, but there’s an undercurrent of expectation, a reminder of the shared history and intimacy. 

Sunghoon turns his head to the side, a stubby chuckle slipping past his parted lips. His gaze falls onto Heeseung after a moment, the boy leaning against the counter with an indifferent expression. 

“What, do you think she forgot? You think a couple racks can erase what you did? Bet you're not the one she calls everyday” a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, as he looks at Heeseung’s changing face. 

“You think that just because I wasn't here I don’t know what goes on? She couldn't give two fucks about you. You don’t intimidate me, Sunghoon” he retorts, his eyes dark as he pushes himself off the sink and shortens the distance between him and Sunghoon “Couldn’t even get past her underwear, fucking pussy” he whispers. 

He nudges Sunghoon’s shoulder during his exit, scoffing angrily as he slams the door shut, leaving his once best-friend alone with the afterthought of his words. 

Sunghoon doesn't regret it. He feels good. He feels the weight drop from his heart, his blood flowing calmly as his eyebrows don’t furrow in annoyance anymore. 

He watches the door for a moment before turning to the mirror, adjusting his jacket and hair, smiling as he takes in his reflection. 

_____ 

On New Year's Eve a car parks in your driveway. Your brother wasn’t home, and by the looks of it, he wasn't going to be any time soon. 

You don’t really remember the last time you sat down for a meal with Eunseok. You couldn't blame him though. Your parents always repeated that saving another human's life will always be more important than spending time with family. Your brother would always stay your brother even if you started to forget the sound of his voice. 

Jay enters your house first. You can notice Jake sinking his head into the trunk, looking for something. 

The last time Jay was here his hair was still blond. He seems to have gotten a new haircut and dyed it back to black. He looked much softer now. 

“Back to black?” you smile and reach out to grab his coat. It feels illegal to hold and hang his black Prada corduroy jacket. It looked so out of place next to your own coats that were all bought at basic chain stores at the mall. 

“You like it?” he asks, quickly turning his head to check on Jake. Jay’s gaze falls back onto you, a soft glimmer in his eyes. 

He changed. He wasn't the same misogynistic narcissist that you were initially introduced to. He became much kinder- a person you actually found yourself getting along with. 

Jay came home extremely drunk on the 22nd of December. Screw walking a straight line when the boy couldn't even walk at all. Just like it had been unlucky for his friends, he too was met with his demise as his father sat in the living room with a girl Jay didn't recognize. 

Probably his new girlfriend. 

He was furious. He went through Jay’s phone that night- every photo of his son with girls in more or less intimate situations, every message between Jay and his dealers, every single bank transaction at the liquor store. He saw it all that night. 

One word too much on Jay’s behalf, and suddenly, there’s a stinging pain on his left cheek. And before he can react, his father slaps him again. And again, harder than the last. 

He saw himself in his son for the first time. He realized what he had done to his own, precious child. The look in his eyes, pure fear and disgust. They weren't much different after all. 

“Yeah, it’s nice. You look good” you nod with a straight smile, and he looks a bit embarrassed at the compliment. 

Jake finally runs into the home, a smile on his face. Without saying a word, you nod your head towards the now closed trunk. 

“We thought the bottles shattered” he explained and you looked over at Jay, confused. 

“I thought you were done with drinking” you asked, and he grinned sheepishly. 

“Today is the last time, I promise. New year, new me, let’s say” 

They walked around your home, visiting every room, every bathroom, checking every picture. You couldn't care less, focusing on getting yourself ready. 

“You used to be emo?” Jake laughs, walking back to your room. You roll your eyes at him, knowing exactly what picture he was talking about. 

“Your brother is really hot,” Jay says, leaning his hands against the backrest of your chair. He looks at himself and you through the mirror “You look hot too” he adds with a sly smirk. 

Your only reply is a smile, not being the best at receiving compliments. His eyes stay on you for a little longer than they should. 

“Jungwon just texted me,” Jake announces, his body turning in your fresh sheets. His dirty shoes have left marks on the white fabric, but he doesn't seem to notice. “Heeseung just arrived. He’s with fuckass Seora” he laughs along with Jay, while you try to process his statement.

It didn’t take him long to find your replacement. You remember the girl, having been paired up with her for a science project at the beginning of the semester. She was so beautiful. 

“That fucking nerd? What’s wrong with him” Jay comments, and you realize how you too were once like Seora. Heeseung hasn't changed, not at all. 

Jake’s phone rings, his eyes darting to the screen. He excuses himself, the call seemingly important as he leaves the room swiftly. 

You are left alone with Jay who mindlessly scrolls through his Instagram homepage, liking and commenting on his friends posts. 

“Can you help me?” you ask, and his reaction to your voice is almost immediate. He sets his phone aside, his full attention once again falling onto you. A hint of concern flashes over his eyes as your expression seems troubled. 

“Mhm?” he hums, walking over to your figure. 

“Can you zip this up for me?” you ask, turning around. 

He stays silent for a moment, before brushing his fingers against the bare skin of your back, grasping at the slippery zipper. He carefully brings the fabric together, taking care not to pull too tight or snag the delicate material. 

He steps back, looking at you, smiling warmly “There” 

Whenever his sister would ask him, he’d flip her off and tell her to leave his room. 

Jay’s eyes take in your figure, the way he’s never really gotten to see your nice body under all the baggy clothes you’d wear. It feels wrong to think about you like this, but it’s not like this is the first time either. 

He may have changed, even in the slightest, but there was always that one person who was too late. 

…

Shot after shot of vodka find themselves appearing in your hand as you down each one with a twisted expression. The people around you seem much more cheerful than you, and you wonder how long it’ll take for this alcohol to finally start doing its thing. 

You turn to Jake, who’s been gripping your hand tightly, at least that’s what you thought. Instead of a smiley Jake, it’s Kim Sunoo who has been apparently keeping you safe. That would be all for ‘we want you to be there’. 

“Going already?” Sunoo perks up, loosening his grip on you as he sees you trying to squeeze through the crowd. 

“I just need some fresh air” you offer him a small smile “I’ll be back” 

It’s 10:37. Only an hour and 23 minutes until midnight. By that time, half the guests won’t even be awake to witness it. You wonder what fireworks look like on this side of town. 

Jungwon’s house isn’t that hard to navigate. It was big, but you imagined bigger. It’s mid-sized, maybe. You note how his parents have good taste- the mediterranean estate very much to your liking. 

You find yourself on one of his acacia armchairs in the backyard terrace. Most people are inside. It  wasn’t the warmest day.   

There’s no wind today, not even snow. The temperature hasn't dropped below zero celsius this season. You really wanted the snow to fall soon. 

You can tell from the corner of your eye that someone has accompanied you on the chair next to yours. You assume it’s someone just as tired as you, someone who's just counting down the minutes  until midnight so they can get out of here. 

Maybe it’s Jake. But you swore you saw him hitting up some girls on your way out. 

“Want one?” you almost don’t recognize the voice. It’s been so long. 

The person extends a pack of cigarettes in your direction, and that’s when you decide to face them. 

You haven't spoken to Nishimura Riki in a long time. He doesn't even look the same. But it’s only been 4 months? 

“I don’t smoke” you reply, and he nods, lighting the stick in his mouth, protecting the flame with the palm of his hand. 

He hisses, exhaling the smoke. It blows in your direction, and you scrunch your nose at the smell. 

“Where’s your sweet boy, Heeseung?” he asks, his tone mocking. You roll your eyes, exhaling deeply. 

He laughs at your silence, but still waits for you to respond, taking another puff. 

“We don’t talk anymore” you could lie but honestly, it seemed meaningless now. It didn't matter what you’d say, things wouldn't change. 

“Lasted the longest. Can’t say I’m not impressed” he replied with a chuckle. Only God knew how much you wanted to slap the boy next to you right now. 

“Fuck off, Niki” you groan, and he puts up his hands, laughing. He’s slightly taken aback by your candidness- he didn't meet this version of you. 

Niki remembers you as the sweet, innocent and most certainly lost girl that had no idea what she was getting herself into. Now it seemed as if Heeseung had drained all that life out of you. 

“I’m not here to make fun of you” there’s a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he still gauge's your reaction to his jab. 

You hum, unamused “Sure” 

He sighs, trying to hide the annoyance caused by your stubbornness. Niki throws what's left of his cigarette on the ground, crushing it with his shoe. Rick Owens, you note. 

“I know you and Wony aren’t on the best terms but she cares about you. I do to” his tone softens “I just want you to live on your own now. Don’t let him take over your life again” 

Niki follows all the patterns the stars are forming with his eyes, while you notice the sincerity in his face. Today the moon is barely visible. There was a New Moon yesterday, so tonight, not  even 3% of the orb is visible. 

“Why are you telling me this?” you ask, and he shrugs. 

The air seems to vibrate with unspoken tension. Niki stays silent for a moment, because he doesn't really know if he has an answer. 

He shouldn't care. He doesn't know you, and you don't know anything about him either. Jesus, if Wonyoung saw him here, he’d be on probation until February. But he saw this happen countless times and every single one stung just as bad. 

“I don’t know. I guess I wanted you to know” he finally answers, a genuine glimmer in his eyes as they fall on yours for just a second. 

You can’t muster up a smile. It’d be too forced anyway. You hope that the nod is enough for him to understand that you do in fact appreciate his words. 

He doesn't say anything and neither do you. It’s mostly noiseless, apart from the faintest melody that flows through the cracks in the window. The only people out here with you are either smoking themselves or talking to someone on the phone. 

You hadn't really told anyone what happened. Of course, you could probably tell Niki, he wouldn't forward it to Wonyoung or anyone else. You could call the boy many names, some better than others, but you knew you couldn't call him untrustworthy. He always kept his word, no matter what. 

But you bite back your tongue. 

“Nice chat, huh? Can I steal her for a moment?” 

Lee Heeseung. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn't want to see him tonight. You weren't wondering if you’d see him, rather when and how. He couldn't run away from talking to you, and well, it appears that he didn't want to anyway.  

With what feeling would you look back on this moment? With sadness? With shame? Indifference, you hoped. 

Would you regret it? Because maybe some things are better left unsolved, right? Sometimes it’s okay to not have an answer. You’ve already learned that firsthand. 

It was too late, Niki already letting the older boy replace him on the armchair, his face filled with remorse, maybe even guilt as he walked back into the house. He only hoped that you were smarter this time. 

You turned your gaze away, because he was looking at you, and it obviously flustered you. He saw your expression, and even though your face twisted in annoyance, you still wanted him to look at you. 

It wasn’t him you hated, but what the two of you did. 

The secret was forever meant to stay between the two of you. And as long as that’s true, it's always casting a shadow over everything good in you. 

“How was Australia? Did you have fun?” you sounded unimpressed, and he noticed. 

Heeseung felt oddly embarrassed to be here with you. He left you with no explanation, and yet you're still asking how his vacation was. Honest or not, he feels like half the man he was before. 

“How did you know?” he asks, a glint of playfulness in his voice. 

“You still share your location with me” you stated, and he nodded. He knew. You were the only person he shared it with in the first place. 

“You check my location?” he chuckles, trying to alleviate the charged atmosphere. His attempts brought no fruit as your expression stayed the same- cold and uninterested. 

“No” he can’t figure out what to say next. It used to be so easy to talk to you. 

But you were the same when he first met you- stand-offish and unwilling. It won’t take him long to figure the right words out, he’s sure of it. 

Heeseung doesn't know why he’s trying this hard. Maybe it’s because now he knows his friend wants it just as much. In what universe did Park Sunghoon have something Heeseung didn’t? Not in this one, and the latter was continuously making sure of it. 

“Can we talk about us?” he finally speaks up after the prolonged moment of uncomfortable silence. He doesn't really know what ‘us’ was. Definitely not a relationship. He doesn't do that, never has. He just prays that you actually had something smart to say. 

“Us?” you bark back a laugh, and he leans against the beige pillow with a sigh. 

Heeseung had been willingly ignoring the messages he saw you sending. He could always disguise that as not wanting to talk about it over text. But in reality, he didn't want to talk about it at all. He just hoped that a ‘sorry’ would be enough. 

“You know what I mean. Don’t be stupid” his voice is laced with a twinge of irritation. He didn't expect it to take this long for you to break. 

“What the fuck are you even talking about, Heeseung?” you turn to face him fully now. 

His hair is no longer dark red. It’s brown, almost black. And he has a completely different haircut. It compliments his tan skin. He’s also dressed differently. You can’t quite recall seeing him like this. 

“Seriously, what do you want to talk about? It wasn’t real, not to you at least. So please, tell me what exactly it is that you want to talk about” his expression is a mix of annoyance and anger now. His jaw clenches as his eyes narrow. You surely allowed yourself to say too much, didn’t you? 

“Careful, Y/n. Watch your tone” he laughs menacingly, standing up from his seat. His hands grip the sides of your chair, as he stares down at you, his face too close for comfort. 

“Downplay what we had, and what’s still between us all you want. But you know it’s real. You might be wiser now, but you haven’t really changed. You still want it just as much” his expression darkens, a defensiveness to his voice. 

All he did was see the potential in you, the spark hidden beneath your innocent surface. He fed that fire, helped it grow until it burned through them both. Heeseung taught you to be a woman. He didn't wrong you, he helped you. 

Leaning in, he nuzzles your neck, his breath hot on your skin “So how about you quit acting all tough and just let me have you again, yeah?” 

He no longer knew how to control himself. No one did. 

When he was younger he believed in God. Even when he started at Saint Matthew’s, he considered himself religious. Maybe he liked it because it made his nights just a little less lonely, or maybe because it filled him with a sense of identity. He knew that no matter what, there’s always that one person, an otherworldly figure that will love him endlessly, have control over him. 

And when he felt himself drift away from his faith, it became a saga of bad decisions after bad decisions. Not because he stopped believing, but because there was no longer anyone to control him. 

“You must be out of your fucking mind if you think I’d do that” your lips are parted as he continues to brush his past your neck, jawline and mouth. 

“Keep talking to me like that and you’ll regret it” he whispers with a sinful grin, his fingers reaching up to caress your cheek “Let’s just forget about what happened. You know I meant what I said” 

“That you love me?” you laugh, and you can notice him bite down on the inside of his cheek. “Just leave me alone, Heeseung. Go find someone else and I’ll do the same” you try to be as calm as possible. He can’t know it’s affecting you. 

Someone else? No, that can’t be possible. You are the only one who listens to him, you are the only one that’s there for every one of his requests. He can’t just let you go like that. It wouldn't be that easy to replace you. 

“Sunghoon, right? That fucking prick, seriously?” he straightens his figure, letting out a frustrated sigh. 

“I never brought him up” you mutter, and he scoffs. 

Heeseung’s  eyes slightly narrow, while his lips press into a thin line. 

The silence that follows is heavy, filled only by the quiet chatter of other people that were out here with you. 

“Please, Y/n. You can’t do this” his tone becomes softer as a pleading look decorates his features. 

You don’t really know what else there is to say. 

His words- louder and longer, were given a physical form and longevity as if they had a life of their own now. 

It almost made you think you forgive him. 

____ 

During morning prayer you saw him again. 

He still had that lifeless look on his face, as if nothing had really changed at all. As if nothing ever happened in the first place. He was two rows in front of you, next to Niki and Sunoo. 

You wanted to catch him looking at you, to have his eyes on you. 

All the students gathered in the chapel next to the school at 7:30. Punctuality was key. Under no circumstances was tardiness allowed- those who dared to come in a minute late were not allowed to participate and got punished with after-school detention. 

Heeseung knelt down next to you. You hoped Sunghoon wouldn't see it. 

‘In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen’

He signs the cross and so do you. “I missed you” Heeseung whispers, his hand softly brushing against your thigh. 

“Don’t” you mutter back, swatting his hand away. 

One of the students was leading today's Morning Offering. 

You tried to focus on Sunghoon. Maybe his hair changed, or maybe his skin got tanner. He got a little skinnier, you note. Sunoo whispers something to him but he doesn't seem to listen. 

“Stop,” Heeseung whispers into your ear, his breath hot on your skin. You move away from him, watching how amusing this is for him. 

“What?” His presence is strong, the pull almost working involuntarily. 

‘...Or does so much bad feeling accumulate within us that we learn to mold it into a big lump of emotions, with amnesties and pardons? Or does the presence of the other, who yesterday morning was almost like an intruder to us, become more and more necessary, because it protects us from our own hell?’ 

You can’t listen, you can’t comprehend. No matter where, there's something pulling your attention. 

“Don’t look at him” Heeseung’s voice is firm, his eyes on you. He’s always watching. 

After a short reflection is spoken, a brief moment of silence follows. You close your eyes, leaning forward. 

"We pray for our community, that we may learn and grow together in love and wisdom,"  the intention is spoken, and after reciting a prayer together, the students start rising from their spots slowly. 

Sunghoon’s gaze doesn't even wander in your direction. He doesn't look at anyone, speeding out of the chapel as soon as the prayer commences. You want to go after him, but Heeseung stops you before you could even fully decide on it. 

“Don’t go” 

You turn around, watching his eyes that are full of amusement. 

Is he enjoying himself this much? Does this entertain him? 

“Heeseung, stop it. It’s over between us, remember? Leave me alone, seriously” you don’t sound heated or outraged. Not even resentful. Simply tired. 

He doesn't react to your words. He knows you don't mean it. 

You knew he wouldn't stop. You knew that as long as he was here, it’d never stop. He was obsessed and giving up wasn't really an option. 

There were exceptions though. During study break, or lunch you wouldn't see him much. Maybe because the repugnance towards Jay and Jake was stronger than his willingness to see you. It didn't really matter though. 

The part of you that liked the attention made you sick. It was hard to admit, and you most definitely wouldn't tell anyone. After everything, you still couldn't resent him. The hate continued to only bring you closer. 

“When is New York?” Jake asked, his fingers tapping away on his laptop. 

Jake was failing in most of his classes and he was slowly running out of time. What he had already learned stayed with him, but now, he had to catch up on a whole semester worth of material. 

“Next week? I think” you reply and he mutters something under his breath. You don't catch it. 

“Such a boring destination” Jay comments and you breathe out a chuckle in response. What an out of touch thing to say. 

“We know, Jongseong. You’ve been there, have an apartment in SoHo and plan on going to NYU” he knows it’s a joke, he’s learned to not take offense to such silly things by now. But no one really calls him Jongseong. 

Only his mother does. He hates it just as much as he hates her. But this time- he savors the sound, how easily it slips past your lips and how satisfyingly it rings in his ears. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. 

“I’ve never been” Jake piques, and you murmur a ‘Me too’ in response. He doesn't lift his eyes from the screen- it’s almost like he’s glued in place. It’s only the occasional loud sound or cramp in his leg that makes him move. 

The trip was only for juniors and seniors. It wasn't the cheapest, but Eunseok didn't comment when you asked him for the money. His worn-out figure just scribbled out a check and handed it to you. 

The main point was supposed to be St. Patrick’s Cathedral. You didn't really care for the building. Jake didn't either. You two had already planned to sneak out for dinner and shopping while the tour went on. 

“I’m rooming with Heeseung” Jake sighed, taking off his glasses to wipe them with his blazer “That fucking dickhead signed us up last week. Didn't even know until Mrs. Kim told me” 

Jay laughed. He passed Jake wet wipes, noticing how the boy can’t get his glasses clean. 

“I’m rooming with Sunghoon. Haven't really talked to him, though” Jay says, and you both nod. 

A small smile creeps onto your lips “I’m alone” 

You didn't mind at all. You could do whatever you wished without an annoying bitch telling you to go to sleep because ‘your phone screen is keeping her awake’. 

“Can I stay with you? Please” Jake pleads and you shake your head almost instantly. The boy frowns upon seeing your reaction. 

______ 

New York felt oddly familiar. 

These faces- they didn't carry that sense of foreignness. Everyone went about their day without interest in what the person next to them is up to. You felt a good kind of loneliness even though you were never truly alone. 

Little Italy and Chinatown were fun.  

You, Jay and Jake managed to slip out for a second, sharing a meal at a Cantonese restaurant. The food was quite enjoyable and the ambience was great. Jay did complain a bit though. 

That same night you went out for drinks. When all the guardians fell asleep, on cue,  everyone sneaked out of their rooms. Heeseung, rooming with Jake, found out about the plans that he wasn't included in. Of course he still tagged along. 

Jay mentioned that Sunghoon has been so quiet, it almost feels like suicide everytime they are in the room together. 

“I ask him if he wants to shower first, right? And you know what this decadent bum does? Nothing. He won’t even reply to me” 

He wanted to complain more, but Heeseung’s angered and ostentatious sigh forced him to stop. He only looked over at Jake confused before switching to a different topic. 

The next day you saw almost all the museums in Manhattan. 

Your feet were in so much pain by the time you reached The Museum of Modern Art. While Jay and Jungwon walked around pretending to care for the artwork, you and Jake sat in a corner talking and recording dumb vlogs. 

“Say hello to Jake’s vlog” he laughed, shoving the camera into your face. Jake’s stupid smile could be heard from behind the screen, his amusement making the video much more adorable. 

With an annoyed grimace, you shoved the camera away from your face. Jake was unrelenting and it made napping nearly impossible. 

“We’re in some shitty museum” he said sadly, the tone complimenting his mock expression of misery “You know what boggles me? That my dear friend Jay is pretending he likes this. No one likes this. It’s all just ugly paintings that have a forced meaning attached to them” 

“Boggles me? What are you, fucking 50?” you laugh, looking over to him. “What else am I supposed to say” his lips twist in a downwards smile.

“Just say ‘Hello’ to my vlog” he pleads again. 

Rubbing your temples, a sigh escapes your lips again. You looked up at Jake before staring right into his phone camera. 

“Hello” your unenthusiastic tone was menacing to Jake. 

He gave you a playful shove “Happier” Jake commanded. 

You look over at  him wide eyed. After a moment of his unchanging stare, you plaster a forced smile on your face that doesn't quite reach your eyes. 

“Hi” you even attempt a wave. 

Jake laughed, and turned the camera to face him again. “That’s my stripper friend Y/n. Call me to book a lap dance. It’s real” he whispered, the camera too close to his face. 

He turned the camera back to you. You shook your head as a  lighthearted laugh slipped past your parted lips “Turn this off, Jake. You’re wasting storage, you fucking idiot” 

Later that day the two of them offered to go out again since Jay had actually brought the keys to his fathers apartment. You declined. 

Maybe you’d try to call your brother, share some photos with him. It surprised you to actually get an answer. It didn't last long though- 5 minutes in he had to hang up because of an emergency surgery. 

You think about Heeseung. You think about everything, really. In the evening waiting for him becomes much more annoying. The thought of him becomes unbearable, because you’re not supposed to think about him. 

Rejecting him was almost an immediate reaction. The idea of him was much nicer than having him there, so raw and real in front of you. 

It was strange to him too- fearing the days where you were away and he had no idea where you’d gone. 

Thinking about Sunghoon was much more grounding. Much more humanly and justified. His blank stare and cold demeanor, unchanging. Nothing brought you the answer you needed. You wished he’d look at you long enough to see that same thirst for life he noticed back in December. 

A knock at the door sounds through your hotel room. It’s soft, barely audible. 

It’s probably Jake, or Jay. You look down at the time and note that it’s a reasonable time for them to be back. They’ve been out for a good 3 hours now. 

You open the door, and it doesn't really hit you at first. Sunghoon must've gotten the wrong room. 

Your attempts to look calm are futile as your voice cracks “What are you doing here..?” he stands there for a moment, his lips parted. It’s almost like he doesn't really know either.

As you step back to let him enter, he hesitates briefly “You’re alone?” His voice is mellow. The dim light in the room casts a shadow on his face making him appear much more gloomy than usual. 

You nod reluctantly. Your gaze is on him, searching, as if asking for permission to speak, continue. 

There's a moment of deep silence. It isn't uncomfortable or awkward. He's in your presence and you're in his. That seems to be enough to console the immediate tranquility. 

“Do you like it here?” he asks and it seems to strike you as unusual. He never really bothered to converse with others unless they initiated it. 

The scene is oddly familiar. He sits next to you on the bed, propping his body up on his hands. Just like you were immensely aware of each other's closeness that night, it's the same today. 

This time though it seems like it's Sunghoon's turn to find excuses to avoid the topic. And you let it happen.

“Yeah. It’s fun” you nod, and so does he. Against your will you ask a question that in different circumstances, wouldn't even make it past your throat- “Are you hiding from me?” 

Sunghoon’s heart skips a beat as he looks down at your hand. It’s dangerously close to his thigh “No, not from you” his answer is hesitant. 

“It feels like it” he bites the inside of his cheek at your words. 

His fingers play with the fabric of your white sheets “Maybe in a way I was” his voice softens, his eyes scared to look at you.  

“In what way?” you mutter. The air feels ominous, as if you're both threatening the unchangeable. 

“You know” he starts, his hand reaching closer “I was afraid to be denied” 

Sunghoon saw you call, his finger hovering over the answer button many times as he wondered what he’d even tell you. There were so many things he wanted to say. So he’d just flip the phone over. 

Today he was braver. Or at least that’s what he thought. Because being eye to eye with you again, stripped him of it all. 

“I thought you knew I wouldn't. I called you. And texted, a lot” you answered, and his lips pressed into a straight line. 

His touch is tentative. Eventually,  he reaches out towards you, his warm hand takes yours, interlacing your fingers “And I should’ve answered. I’m sorry. For not being more” he looks at you again, the warmth in his eyes genuine “Because I know you wanted me to be more” 

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes. You laugh “This is so stupid” 

You halt the tears from spilling down your cheeks. Sunghoon’s lips form into a small smile “It’s not” 

You look down at your fingers intertwined. He’s looking too. 

You can hear some girls stumble their way into the room next to yours. Judging by the voice, you think  it’s Minjeong. She says something about a 45 year old man coming to see her soon. She also seems to be begging her friend for one more drink ‘Last one, promise! I’m not drunk enough, Ning!’ 

Sunghoon doesn't say anything until the commotion dies down. Neither do you. 

“Sloshed at 11. Crazy work” he chuckles, and so do you. You nod, thinking that Jake is probably somewhere in a corner, throwing up. He was definitely not the drinker everyone made him out to be. 

He leans in closer, his eyes just for a moment searching yours for acceptance. His head falls down on your shoulder. 

“Hoon?” your voice is just above a whisper. 

He hears it again. It’s just as nice as it was back then. The sound is almost natural. He thinks you were made to call out to him. In contrast to last time, he’s much more optimistic. 

He hums, ushering you to continue “Did you mean it?” He doesn't need you to explain, because he knows exactly what you're referring to. 

A small laugh slips past his lips “I think me being here right now answers that one for you” he rises from the softness of your shoulder slowly, savoring the intimacy. A small smile forms on your lips at his words. 

Pulling back, your eyes fall onto him again. Being with Sunghoon was so easy. 

He pats his lap gently. His eyes are soft, almost begging “Come here” he whispers. The words are heavy with longing. They mingle in the air for just a second longer.

You nod after a moment of hesitation. As you settle onto him, his arms weave around your waist. He draws you into his warmth with his delicate touch. His face nestles into the hollow of your neck as he breathes softly, melting into the comfort of your presence. 

Something seemed to have removed the distance between you and Sunghoon, and for a moment you had the impression that there was absolutely no difference in wealth, age or anything else between you. It was a wonderfully free and unleashing moment where you weren’t really expected to be anything.   

“I’m sorry” he sounds shy, almost embarrassed. 

Sunghoon was never the type to apologize. He’d rather let the conflict simmer down on its own without any further interference. Yet here he was- being vulnerable and honest. 

“You already apologized” you smile, your fingers tangled in his hair. 

He chuckles lightly “Once is not enough” he mutters into your skin, the sound muffled. You feel his wet lips move against your neck. 

He raises his head, looking down at you again. “Can I kiss you?”

A sense of contentment washes over you. You nod, lips parted, waiting for him.

He gently tilts your chin up, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. A soft breath escapes you before he finally captures your lips in a deep, consuming kiss. It quickly grows messy, his hand sliding to the back of your neck. You grasp the neckline of his shirt as his tongue teases the seam of your mouth—seeking, almost begging for entrance.

Sunghoon pulls back, his breathing heavy, his lovesick eyes locked onto you. His lips glisten, slick with your desire.

He presses a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your neck, working his way down to your chest. You watch him through heavy lids, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. His hands slide beneath your shirt, fingers caressing your smooth skin. “Undress for me, please.” There’s a hint of desperation in his words as he tugs at the fabric.

You smile, cupping his cheek. Your thumb glides over his lips, gently parting them. “I don’t know…”

He whimpers quietly, grinding his clothed erection against you. “Don’t tease me. I need to see you.” His movements grow more frantic, his hands grasping at you like he’s desperate to feel every inch.

His face flushes with excitement as you hook your fingers under the hem of your shirt. “Want me to take this off?”

“Fuck, yes.” He nods eagerly, eyes devouring your every movement. One hand drifts down, palming himself through his pants as he watches, entranced.

With slow, deliberate motions, you peel the fabric from your body and toss it onto a nearby chair. His eyes widen with each inch of skin revealed.

“You’re desperate,” you tease, replacing his hand with your own. A feathery moan slips from his lips.

He throws his head back. “Is it obvious?” he breathes, and you confirm with a hum.

“I don’t care,” he admits, his eyes slipping shut as he pushes into your palm, eager for more.

Sunghoon thought about this all the time. He felt like such a pervert, but God, it was finally happening—and it was so much better than he ever imagined.

Last time, he was so close. Ten more minutes and a locked door, and he would’ve had you. Heeseung might have been the first to have you, but Sunghoon planned to be the one who had you best. He’d make you come over and over again until you forgot all about Lee Heeseung.

And judging by the way you were looking at him, it was already starting to work.

“I really need to fuck you,” he groans, biting his lower lip. His breathing is uneven. “So bad.” His fingers trail up your thigh, his touch light, pleading.

“Yeah?” You let out a small laugh, climbing off his lap. Your hands find the soft material of his pants.

He lifts his hips immediately, watching intently as your fingers slide the fabric down his legs.

Sunghoon can feel his heartbeat quickening, his whole body trembling with anticipation. You didn’t know he could get like this. You also didn’t know you’d like it so much.

His breath hitches when you toy with the waistband of his boxers, his legs spreading involuntarily. “Take them off, pretty,” he rasps, his voice cracking. “See how hard I am for you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, slipping his underwear down. He groans as the fabric slides along his length, his cock springing free.

You prop yourself up on one hand, the other lingering around his thick, leaking length. “Want me to touch you?”

He exhales sharply, his cock twitching against his lower abdomen. “Mhm.” He props himself up on his elbows, eyes dark with need. “Please.”

You press your palm against his tip, moving in slow, circular motions. His breath turns ragged as he throws his head back, surrendering to the feeling.

As your confidence grows, so does your pace. Your hand strokes him, faster, firmer. He pants lightly, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. “Ride me.”

You smirk and nod, slipping out of your shorts, fingers teasing the waistband of your underwear. He bites his lip, eyes smoldering with lust as his legs spread wider in invitation.

“Take them off me,” you whisper.

He looks up at you, almost as if seeking permission, before ripping the material away.

He’s so desperate to feel you, to touch you, that he wastes no time pulling you back onto his lap.

Sunghoon is mesmerized. He’s been with other girls before, but this is the first time he’s had to work for it. He usually just got what he wanted, no effort required. But now, with you, it feels like a reward. And he plans to cherish every second.

You’ve waited for this moment, savoring every touch, every lingering glance. Each look from him feels like a compliment and promise of something more.

He grips his throbbing length, aligning himself with your entrance. His other hand rests on your hip, steadying you. You can feel his tip pressing against you, and a low moan slips from your lips. He gazes up at you one more time, and you nod.

Slowly, you sink down onto him, your walls stretching to accommodate his thick length. A sharp gasp escapes you as you adjust, his fingers digging into your skin.

“Fuck, Hoon…” He keeps his hold firm, guiding you. “Like this? Is this what you wanted?”

“So fucking good,” he groans. His cock throbs inside you, hitting all the right spots with each downward roll of your hips. “Don’t stop.” His voice is raw with need.

He thrusts up to meet you, his whole body trembling as the wet heat of your cunt envelopes him completely. His self-control is slipping fast. If he had known it would feel this good, he never would have let Heeseung have you first. He would have taken you from the beginning.

You start to move faster, rocking your hips, pleasure building between you both. The sounds of your moans mix with the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.

“So perfect,” he mutters through heavy breaths. “You’re so perfect.”

Your head falls back as Sunghoon presses a hand against your stomach, feeling himself inside you. He grits his teeth, trying to hold back, trying to make it last. But he can already feel it—the tightening coil deep in his core.

“I can’t,” you pant, your walls fluttering around him. The need for release is overwhelming.

With those words, he loses it. He pulls you flush against his chest, thrusting up into you at a frantic pace. “Fuck—gonna cum so deep inside you.”

His teeth sink into your shoulder, leaving red marks in their wake.

“So close, Hoon,” you whimper, and it pushes him to the edge.

He buries himself to the hilt, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as he spills inside you, thick and hot, filling you completely. His eyes roll back as he comes, shuddering beneath you.

You’re right behind him, your climax crashing over you in waves. Your body quivers, collapsing onto his sweaty chest. His cum seeps from your still-clenching walls as he slowly slips out, savoring every second of your tight heat around him.

He watches his seed leak from your fucked-out hole, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “So pretty,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse.

With a sigh, he falls onto his back, pulling you down with him.

Sunghoon feels completely content, his fingers lazily tracing patterns along your spine. He can feel your breath against his neck, warm and steady, making him smile.

Today feels like the first day of his life.

….

The rest of the trip was unparalleled. For you and Sunghoon at least. Others could wish to say the same thing. 

Everyday he'd attempt to sneak into your room at night. He even created a special sequence of knocks just so you'd be sure it's him. Jay didn't seem to suspect anything. 

On Wednesday night while using the bathroom he said he wants to film a Get Ready With Me. Just like the ones he'd seen on social media. You laughed, and agreed. This was so unlike him. In a good way though. 

You think about the unrecorded parts- how he stood in between your legs, his face twisted in discomfort as you clear his skin. 

 “Your lipstick choice is fucking terrible. Coral is not your color, Hoon” you smile widely. 

His lips were terribly overlined. The brown pigment reached high beyond his actual mouth. Sunghoon looked so stupid, but to you, it was adorable. 

“Do it for me next time” a fond smile spreads across his face. He holds your hand, his thumb tenderly rubbing your soft skin. 

You look at him with a raised eyebrow “Next time? Didn’t know my princess liked getting her makeup done” he playfully rolls his eyes at you. 

“Too far” he tries to hold back a smile, but his twitching lip gives it away “Keep going” he looks at the cotton pad in your other hand. 

You nod, scooting just a little closer to him. 

Sunghoon stood there silently, eyes closed. His body twitches involuntarily as your fingers graze against his skin. He feels your soft breathing against his neck. The warmth mixed with the soothing swipe of the cotton pad against his face, sends a shiver down his spine, as his body naturally relaxes against you. 

“Gone” you smile and his eyes flush open. His reflection stares back at him in the mirror. 

His skin is irritated, he can tell. And usually he’d freak out. But now, he doesn't seem to really care. 

The doting look in his eyes searched your expression, his hands sliding up and down your bare thighs. 

“You’re so hot,” he says. A small smirk creeps up on his lips as he keeps inching closer. 

“Sunghoon” you glare at him, attempting to look serious. His soft laughter breaks the facade pretty quickly. 

Without another word he presses his slightly stained lips against yours. He smiles against you, his mouth opening faintly. He reaches up to hold your cheek, chest pressing against yours. A moan escapes your mouth as he deepens the kiss. His tongue swipes your bottom lip before slipping past it. 

During field trips he’d find himself drifting closer to you. And when free time came around, he'd run off with you to different parts of the city he once fell in love with. 

With his arm around your shoulders, he’d point to cafes, restaurants,  street art and even benches. He was truly happy. And even if you weren't paying attention to his stories, the genuine smile on his face was enough. 

“No way” you gasp, the amusement evident on your face as you peel away his sleeve slightly “I swear Jake and Jay have the same one” 

Sunghoon laughs, watching you analyze the ‘4’ tattoo on his wrist. 

“They do,” he smiles weakly. “Heeseung has it too” you never noticed. 

You always knew about Jay’s- it was on his right palm. Just recently you saw Jake had it too, hidden on the back of his neck. 

“He does?” Sunghoon nods and points to his ankle. 

It's almost been a year since they got it, but the ink has already started fading away. In a way, Sunghoon was relieved. 

“We were so fucking out of it that night” he starts, and you turn to face him. “It was in Tokyo, I think? This girl we met, she was a tattoo artist” he looks down at it too and his eyes seem to light up “We thought it'd be funny “ 

You grab onto his wrist as he speaks again “My mom was so mad when she found out. She wanted it removed but I was such a fucking asshole to her back then, so I didn't listen” you don’t let go, moving your fingers upwards to hold onto his hand. He smiles. 

“You look badass. Sort of” he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“It looks bad and ass. And I swear her ink was from Aliexpress” he pulls you into his chest. 

It was getting dark outside, but the city was only becoming livelier. Everyone was in a rush, but their ambition and passion was almost tangible. 

“I’m jealous then. Matching tattoos, that's serious dedication” you smile and he laughs at the comment. 

His chin rests on the top of your head, his breathing slow and steady. He watches the orange haze that falls onto the landscape. 

“I’ll get your name tattooed” you hum and it almost sounds like you're judging him. He chuckles “Swear to God” 

“You’re insane” 

The next day he’d find a new spot to take you to. He was a better tour guide than your English teacher, you’d tell him. 

And Heeseung knew about it all. To say he was angry would be an understatement. 

He passed by St. Marks Place with Karina. The girl told him something about her sister being interested in him. He didn't really listen to her though.

 So many people passed by him- maybe 40 in the span of 5 seconds. A lot of them looked similar. New York fashion is diverse, but it really just comes down to the same thing, he notes. 

Yet he pays attention to them all, especially the two oddly familiar faces that stand in front of him, playing with a passerbys dog. 

Until now, Heeseung was pretty sure he had the situation under control. He was giving you the distance he deemed necessary. Still, his eyes never left you. And when they did, once, but for a period longer than ever, you manage to find yourself in the arms of Park Sunghoon again. 

Karina notices it too. He told her all about it, the whole story. She knew he was short-tempered so she never really told him that this wasn't healthy. It’d be on the tip of her tongue every time, lingering far too long for comfort. By the time she was ready, he’d change the topic. 

“She’s being unreasonable, right? Tell me I’m not insane” he asked. His eyes focused on the last sip of whiskey in his glass. 

You are, she thinks. 

“You can’t just expect her to move on because you said so” she wants to laugh, but judging by his worn-out expression, he’s not in the mood for humor. 

He scoffs. Why not? You never had an issue listening to him.

“I didn’t say so” he replies, and she looks at him with her eyebrow raised “I said sorry, Rina. What the fuck else is there to say?” 

“Nothing” Karina’s reply is almost automatic “That’s really the thing, you know? Sometimes sorry isn’t enough” her attempts at ‘comfort’ are fruitless- his head falls on the table after he finishes whatever was left of his drink. 

“Does this haircut make my face look weird?” 

Karina would laugh it off. She’d just let him go on about his haircut, the shoes he bought today, Jake’s glasses that he accidentally stepped on and the stray cat that almost bit him. 

She knew that it was a matter of time until he’d bring you up again. It was a cycle that never ended. 

While you deny him love, you give it to the same person he’s been trying to erase. And in a way it’s his fault- he left the cage open and you walked out. 

____

“Are you fucking serious right now? Two parents but still can’t slice up a tomato” Jay scolds the younger boy that was forced to help him in the kitchen. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Jake retorts, his expression tired as he gives up on the job completely. The massacred tomato lies on the cutting board which Jay swiftly takes over. 

“Everything, Jake. Literally everything” he sighs, sending Jake away with his hand. 

Dinners, hangouts, parties and suddenly everything fell into place. There no longer was the inexplicable animosity hanging in the air. It felt strange at first- the conversations and acts of kindness turned into something a lot more authentic and domestic. This is what you missed the most, it seems. 

“You’re not getting into Harvard, fucking dumbass” Sunghoon laughed, digging his fork into the food prepared by Jay (and as he himself argued, Jake, who waited for the water to boil before dumping in the pasta). 

“My grades are better now” Jake asserted “You’ll see, I’ll have the last laugh. Just wait” the threat and seriousness in his expression makes you chuckle. 

“I’m gonna stay here” Sunghoon smiles. You look at him confused. You well remember him mentioning Princeton. 

“What about Princeton?” Jay brings it up before you manage to do so. Sunghoon shakes his head, setting down his utensils. 

“My step-mom is sick,” he reveals. You grab his hand under the table, and he squeezes hard “She’ll be fine, don’t worry. I just want to be with my family for now. Maybe in the future I’ll transfer” he adds with a smile. 

Sunghoon has never been particularly close to his mother or his step-mother. It was a choice for him. 

Jeongja, his mothers girlfriend, came into his life when he was 5 years old. She took care of him like he was her own. “Blood is not a requirement when it comes to family. I’ll always love you like a son, Sunghoon. Will you remember that?” she told him one day. He always thinks about that time. Sunghoon has always been so loved and he wishes he gave it back sooner, not when he was on the brink of losing her. 

Jay feels a pang of guilt in his chest at his words. Maybe one day he could learn to love his mother again. Not today, not tomorrow but one day. He wants that, more than anything. 

The day comes to a close soon enough, leaving you and Sunghoon to bask in each other's embrace. 

His head is on your stomach, as you play with his hair. It’s grown quite long, especially in the back. 

“Two days before New Year's I was at the event hosted by Heeseung’s father” he starts. You don’t say anything, allowing him to continue “I talked to Heeseung then. That was the last time, actually” he chuckles lightly. There’s a hint of sadness in his tone, but he can't quite tell why. 

“You know he actually likes you?” it doesn't shock you like he expected it to. He doesn't comment on it though, letting you find the right words in reply. 

“I know” you say, and he sits up abruptly, looking at you. 

“You do?” He seems puzzled. It has been so long since he’s seen or even talked to Heeseung. He wouldn't know. 

Maybe there is a part of him that misses the boy. He was his first friend at Saint Matthew’s Academy. He welcomed him like they’d been friends since forever. Heeseung put up with his initial shyness even when it seemed like everyone else couldn't anymore. 

Sunghoon always smiles when he thinks about his first day. Lee Heeseung spotted him in the crowd, and without an introduction, swung his arm around his shoulder, talking to him like an old friend. 

He introduced him to Wonyoung, his first actual girlfriend. Even though he wasn't on the best terms with her right now, even though he was with her out of convenience, the memory of their time shared together makes his heart just a little warmer. 

Heeseung was the one who gave him a life. And he loved him, which made leaving 10 times harder. 

Even so, he doesn't regret the decision. He knew it was pointless to live with the idea of his once best friend that wasn't really accurate anymore. They both deserved better than each other. 

“He’s made it pretty clear” your lips form into a downwards smile.

Sunghoon looks away from you for a brief moment as he speaks up “And it doesn't change anything?” 

“What do you mean?” you tilt your head in question. 

Sunghoon exhales sharply. Even though he knows what answer to expect, there’s still that ounce of fear in him. Fear that stems from being second, being the ‘afterparty’. 

“You still choose this? Even if you know it wasn't necessarily fake after all?” he asks even though he knows he shouldn't. 

You smile, and pull him back into your chest “I should've chosen this from the beginning” he feels his heart grow bigger, a heat rising to his face “It doesn't matter what it was, not really. Didn’t you know I’d come back to you?” he chuckles and shakes his head. 

“I’m happy you did” he murmurs, his eyes shutting. Your hand slips under his shirt, caressing the soft skin on his back “You know, if he ever made you feel worse than us, I hope you know it’s not true. You’re a good girl, and I always knew it. You deserve more, and I’ll make sure you get it, okay?” 

You smile lightly, and nod. 

You look over at the dirty dishes in the sink, messy dinner table, and sigh softly as you think about all the work that’ll have to be conquered soon. 

But you let him fall asleep on your chest, and it feels good. Even if there's things left undone. 

____

 It was Jungwon’s birthday dinner today. 

After the school trip you two have grown much closer. He would visit you during breaks or sometimes join you in the study hall. He’d even given up his seat next to Jay (who was surprisingly really good at the subject) in French class to sit with you. 

Jungwon would talk a lot about his girlfriend, Binna. She went to a public school not far from here and met Jungwon during a student exchange program to Sweden. She’d always tell him what people at her school thought about the well renowned, enclosed community of St. Matthew’s. It wasn’t entirely positive, and since Binna was dating one of the ‘stuck-up dickheads that probably wipes his ass with $100 bills’, they wouldn’t really include her in the conversations anymore. 

But you enjoyed hearing about her. Jungwon would ask for advice regarding gifts, places he should take her and things he could do to make her feel loved. And you’d always give it to him. 

He showed you countless pictures of her,  always struggling with choosing one  “She looks pretty in all of these, I swear!” 

Her  brown hair covered her face slightly but you could still see her beautiful face. Big, doe eyes, plump lips that were rosewood pink. She had a scar under her right eye. You thought it made her look so stunning. Jungwon did too. 

During his birthday dinner, you saw them together for the first time. It was almost like he forgot what he was here for in the first place, his attention on her only. 

You sat next to Sunghoon and Jake. Jay sat next to Jake with Niki on his right. Heeseung sat across from you, Karina next to him on the left, Sunoo on his other side. The other people there you didn’t really recognize. 

The relationship between you and Jungwon wasn’t the only thing that changed. A lot of things did. 

“Let’s go back to my house after this” he leaned in closer to you. He didn’t have to even whisper, the conversations that surrounded you ringing in your ears. The music was loud too. You think Sade is playing, but you're not sure. 

Jake, although currently arguing with Jay about baseball clubs, notices. He caught on pretty early. During a walk after school, he brought it up. “Back in the game, huh? How did you even get him to talk?”. He knew you wouldn’t admit to anything, but it was funny to watch you get flustered at his comments. 

“Won’t you be tired?” you ask, and he laughs softly. Tired after eating a free dinner, and cracking a few fake smiles? This was like a day job for him. Countless dinners with his biological father, whom he truly despised, or CEO’s of other successful companies, or with Wonyoung and her parents (he hated those one’s the most). He’s used to it by now. 

He shakes his head ‘no’ which causes you to smile. His hand lingers next to your thigh. He’s tempted to touch you, but Heeseung’s piercing gaze prevents him. He doesn’t know why. It’ll end soon, surely. 

You look over at Jay who's now in conversation with Niki. It’s a little shocking to see them like this. 

Niki never liked Jay, and Jay didn’t like him either. Even if he was meant to marry his sister one day (which he saw maybe four times in his life, but truly wasn’t opposed to- she was so beautiful), Niki just couldn’t care less about Park Jongseong. They seem to be laughing at something now and it doesn't look forced, not at all. It’s a rare view and you almost take a photo. You could tease him with it later. 

Jake turns to you and Sunghoon, noting how the boy is much more talkative when he’s with you. 

“I’ll be back” you say, and Sunghoon nods, watching you stand up. He wants to say ‘I’ll miss you’, but thinks it’s incredibly corny. 

The restaurant is crowded tonight. You seem to be the only big group of people there. You smile while passing an older couple that’s celebrating the wife’s birthday, a small cake  and a big bouquet in a glass vase on the table. 

Warm water slides down your fingers, drips down your wrist as you watch your reflection in the mirror.

January seeped into February while you became better. That's what you want to believe at least. While the hair dye keeps fading away, you think about how Heeseung suggested the color. When you touch what's left of your lip piercing (only a healed  scar), you remember how he picked it out for you. It’s not inherently bad to change yourself for someone, but you wish you hadn't become everything you never wanted to be. 

The door opens, the creak sounding through the bathroom. You don't look up, instead shaking the wetness off your hands. 

“Still scared of the hand-dryer?” he leans against the wall. His tone is almost mocking, and usually you’d laugh with him. But today, just like yesterday and the day before that too, you don't feel like talking to Lee Heeseung. 

“Heeseung, I’m not in the mood” Your tone is flat and his expression- unchanging. “I already told you everything I had to say” 

“Do I make you feel sick? Do you think about what happened between us and feel sick?” You're taken aback by his sudden question. 

There's a moment of painful silence as he gauges your reaction. You look at him with utter confusion, but his expression doesn't seem to falter- he's calm, almost too calm. 

For the weeks after New York, Heeseung went back to ignoring you. You wouldn't see him much either, as he spent most of his time with Karina or a group of guys from your grade. Sometimes, he’d look at you for a moment longer than intended. His lips would part, as if he wanted to say something, but he never did. 

Heeseung started ignoring you, and for the first time since you met him, it was okay. 

“What?” you choke out, and he doesn't repeat. You heard him the first time, didn't you? “N- No. What are you even talking about?” 

He scoffs, his eyes on the floor. Your back is pressed against the sink as you wait for him to continue. 

“Then why him? We were good together” he doesn't sound sad, or resentful. It's almost like the question comes out automatically, like it's standard procedure. 

You want to laugh. He sounds robotic, his ‘apology’ most likely rehearsed. No matter how much time passes, no matter what happens and what doesn't, Heeseung doesn't quite get it. Not at all. 

“I want someone who doesn't see me as a game” you speak and he doesn't fire back- instead he nods. “And honestly, I really don't give a fuck what changed in the middle. You should've told me then, not after we had sex” he cringes at the reminder. 

Was sorry really not enough? He needs a breakthrough, but nothing seems to work. 

The last time he felt like this was when his first real girlfriend broke up with him to be with his brother. They're still together- a stinging reminder of what Heeseung couldn't be. 

He remembers begging her to stay, standing in front of her, a desperate look on his face “I’ll be better” . She just laughed in his face. He felt like such an idiot. 

And it happens yet again- it's just never enough. He's never enough. 

He sighs, his expression changing “Do I have to kill him to get my fucking life back?” 

You look at him confused “I- I don't understand” he shakes his head. His body peels off the wall, as he comes closer to you. 

“That dickhead has it. He stole my life” his voice is just above a whisper, his eyes darkening. You don’t reply, a look of hesitancy on your features. 

His friends, his almost girlfriend, his social status- Sunghoon took it away. He stole his identity, everything he's ever worked for. Heeseung had nothing left. 

His hand lands on your shoulder, his touch tentative at first “I’ll be better” 

He watches you sigh, a twinge of sadness in your eyes that can't look at him. A flash of hope crosses his face, but Heeseung knows it's pointless- he already lost. A long time ago. 

“It doesn't matter anymore, really” you finally speak “And I don't think I’ll ever be over the person you were before, Heeseung” 

Heeseung looked like he knew this was coming. Probably because he did. 

He could say some cliche shit like “You know I’ll always love you?” or “Can you kiss me for the last time?”, but he doesn't. He nods. Maybe because he knew this far longer than he'd like to admit. 

Heeseung recalls the moment he first saw you like it was yesterday. He was being a douche, wasn't he? It always went the same- he showers you with compliments, makes you think he’s emotionally intelligent, and eventually he’d have some fun with you. He never knew it’d go this far, no. 

Now, he hates himself for being so fucking stupid, so reckless. But again, he wouldn't be able to keep it a secret long. They knew, they all did. And time already showed him that they wouldn't wait with the truth. They just would, they all would. 

He’s glad to be leaving soon. Changing schools was never his plan- but it no longer made sense for him to be here. He’s sure there’s nicer things waiting for him in Kyoto. 

He’s sure there’s a better version of him there.

Heeseung wants to tell you that this stupid birthday dinner for silly, little Yang Jungwon is most likely the last time he’ll see you. He wants to tell you that those rumors about him moving are true, but he bites his tongue. You probably knew anyway, and you probably didn't care. 

He hugs you, and you let him. You let him hold you, and you pretend not to hear his quiet sniffles. He wouldn't want you to see him like this. Deep down he hopes that maybe eternal return is real, and he’ll get to have you in the exact same way again at one time. 

Heeseung moves away from you, his glossy eyes glazing over your figure. He moves for the door handle, opening the door. The world becomes much louder again, as the line of tables spreads out in the distance.

“After you” he smiles weakly, his eyes avoiding you. 

You reciprocate the same weak, apologetic smile. Stepping out of the bathroom you don't look back, heading straight for the table you came from. 

You could've kept avoiding it, ignoring the growing pain in your chest whenever he crossed you. But you owed it to him. 

There's a flash of guilt on your features as you approach everyone. But seeing Sunghoon laughing so effortlessly and purely with Jake and Jay again makes your lips curve into a small, genuine smile again. 

“Are you okay?” his wide smile doesn't falter as Sunghoon turns to look at you. There’s a bit of concern in his tone as speaks, though. You nod. 

“Where’s Karina?” you ask, noticing the two empty seats. 

They think it’s weird- you asking about Karina of all people. But no one bothers to really make a comment about it. 

“She left with Heeseung like 10 minutes ago. Didn't you see them leaving?” Jake questions. 

“No” your gaze falls onto Sunghoon again. He looks so happy, and free. It didn't use to be like this. “Let’s get out of here” you lean down, your face at level with his. 

He nods, moving swiftly as he collects his belongings “Yeah. Let’s go. If you’re not tired” he grins. You roll your eyes playfully, shoving him softly. 

He holds your hand, his skin so delicate and smooth against yours. His grip is tight, as if he’s scared something might take you away from him. 

“Let’s go be tired together, yeah?” he nods with a smile, looking down at you. 

And the bittersweetness of February 9th stains you like the blood of a plump cherry on a summer day. But it was always meant to be this way, you think. 

[themioka]

Shaw pack head cannons. I have pt2

Marie took up healing magic so that pack members wouldn't have to spend money to go to a healer after getting injured or sick. It wa her way of showing gratitude towards her pack for what they'd done for her and Milo.

Colm wanted Milo to work for the department, going so far to try and steer Milo in the direction of doing so. However, Milo was quick to catch on what Colm was doing, and the two broke out into a massive argument about it.

Asher's parents always felt guilty for leaving Asher behind in pursuit of traveling around the world. While yes he's an adult, and had the support of his packmates, unlike his sister who they where present for the majority of her life up until she moved with her husband back to his pack and hometown. They immediately left the moment Asher could legally care for himself. Asher didn't blame them, nor did he hold any kind of grudge against them. He just kinda wished they stuck around longer before they up and left.

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Milo has a sleeper build body, and it drives Sweetheart wild whenever he decides to flex just to get a rise out of them. He gets a huge ego boost out of it every time, too.

Milo is the very much, I love to stay /hang out more but I have to go check on my cat and make sure he's doing okay and that he gets fed, etc, kind of person.

Whenever Milo is coming home from a rough or stressful job, he'll just pick up Aggro and Sweetheart, before heading to the bedroom to snuggle with the two, gaining a few cheek/forehead kisses from Sweetheart before all three fall asleep in each other embrace.

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One time, Sweetheart spooked Milo into shifting out of fear, and they've never felt so bad in their life until now. Just immediately pulled Milo's wolf into a tight hug as they apologized to Milo, their hand instinctively running through his fur as they kept hugging him til Milo slowly shifted back. They managed to get a laugh about the whole thing, but it took a bit of convincing from Milo that he was absolutely fine from the whole thing.

Whenever Sweetheart is experiencing a panic attack or feels an oncoming attack, Milo's either away on a job or hanging out with the pack members. They'll go to hide in their shared closet until it passes, unaware that Aggro is following them until Aggro is crawling into their lap and begins nuzzling Sweetheart, making biscuits on their lap, or making "conversation" by constantly meowing at Sweetheart. Manging to calm down, Sweetheart will thank Aggro before carrying him to the bed to take a small nap with him. Only to wake up to Milo petting their head as he lays across from them, and Aggro curled up between them, purring loudly.

Sweetheart, who'll make sure everything is up to code on Quinn's security/containment, double checking and ensuring the man doesn't even have a chance at escaping. Sending a list of details and updates of what they've gathered to the pack group chat at the end of their shfit before heading home.

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Darlin struggles to break their terrible habit of hiding bruises, cuts, etc. They won't even acknowledge whatever cut or bruises they have until someone points it out. Sometimes getting a bit defensive about the whole thing, as they're still not used to the idea of relying or asking for help from others.

Darlin swears they're not a good teacher, that they don't know or can't teach, and on top of it, someone who isn't an exact role model. Yet, can't say no whenever one of the younger pack members come to them on help on either learning on how to fight in their wolf form, getting better a shifting, etc.

Darlin is covered in various scars, small, big, either faint or not, depending on how old they are, either visible from afar others you can't really see unless you're up close.

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Whenever Sam joins in on pack runs, the others even David will try and race against him, and he'll indulge in their antics, pretending to slow down and acting a bit tired before blowing past them with ease.

Has gotten caught up in their spins out though it typically gets a chuckle out of him, because they always end up in a tangled mess, and he's trying to get them to hold still while he untangled them rather than having them wiggle around as they untangle themselves from each other limbs.

Sam will give Darlin a few words of encouragement whenever they're struggling to interact with the pack. He is struggling to hide the look of pride on his face whenever Darlin does it without help.

Sam, who's made to sit separately from Darlin during pack movie nights by Asher, because the two always end up falling asleep, not even halfway through the movie. Asher's attempts fail though because the two just "magically" find themselves right next to each other a few minutes later and are vast asleep, Sam having a tight yet gentle grip around Darlin's waist keeping them close and tight against him.

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David used to be in between a heavy sleeper and a light sleeper. However, after the inversion, he became an extremely light sleeper at the time, practically waking up to the sound of the blanket moving. He's gotten a bit better over time, but every now and then, he'll be awoken by the tiniest of noise.

Saw someone say that Darlin possibly has a limp due from the fights they've been in, 100% agree on it, yet overtime Darlin has learned how to adapt and normally functional with it, almost as if they've never had it. But given their age, they sometimes struggle to keep up on pack runs, so David will act as support and stick by them as they run together.

David gets dragged into the little playful scuffles that are mostly started by Asher, though he acts a bit annoyed by it. You can tell he enjoys these kinds of things that allow him to act like a kid/teen again. He'll sometimes switch up on sides every now and then or just team up on Asher with Milo and Darlin, ignoring Asher complaints that 3v1 is unfair.

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Angel will help David in looking for places that are suitable for Sam, of anything they can possibly bring with them if the place they're going to doesn't have much or doesn't offer any kind of shade, just to ensure Sam doesn't miss out on anything even if he claims he does mind being exclude from a few things.

(Both David and Angel won't allow it)

Whenever Angel manages to get David to lie on top of them, they'd usually have to hold onto him to get him to stay because he'll only lay on them for a few minutes, before trying to move, because he believes they'll end up hurt if he stays on top of them longer than usual.

Angel enjoys poking David's sides as they love getting a reaction out of him. Sometimes, David will pull them close to him in a tight embrace, growling in their ear for them to stop, or he'll punish them later for their behavior.

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You know those people who always have their arm around or hands on the person shoulders they're standing right next to because it feels weird if they don't or like have no idea what to do with their limbs in general. And on top of it, they give that little shoulder side pat or do that little shake when they get excited or happy about it. That's Asher, and it doesn't matter who it is, Babe, David, basically anyone who's close in range, Asher automatically has an arm slung over them or a hand on their shoulder.

Asher is very popular with kids since he's down to play with them whenever they invite/nag him to come play with them. Answers their questions with a silly response before going on to ask them questions that typically get a laugh out of them. Gets a laugh at pretending to scare the absolute crap out of their parents whenever he pretends he's dropped the kid whenever holding them. 100%, the one who starts tickle fights among the children. It's not uncommon for him to be the children jungle gym. On top of it, he'll be having a conversation with someone while it's happening and is 100% unphased by it.

Asher who'll jump onto one of the packmates back in a surprise greeting, the other typically being able to support the sudden weight but every now and then, it's enough to send both of them to the floor.

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Babe frequently smacks Asher's hand away whenever they're eating in or out, because no matter how much of their food they give Asher, it seems he's always coming back for more but at this point it's 50/50 for either more food or loving the reaction he's getting out of Babe.

Babe loves getting a rise out of Asher whenever they're over at Milo's and Sweetheart's place and just start loving on Aggro while Asher is whining at them. Milo often joins in, telling Babe how they should get a cat and telling them the perks about owning one, Babe acting all interested in what Milo's telling them all while "ignoring" Asher who's clinging onto them and whining on how they don't need a cat as they have him who is in his words much cooler than a cat.

Every now and then, whenever they're eating in or out, Babe will pretend they're full and offer the rest of their food to Asher, who's been eyeballing their plate after finishing his food.

[creator-chaos]

Shouma. My sweet summer child. My beautiful little monster boy. How did you get yourself into this situation? (Continued reflection on the divorce after my Hanto ramble. Thank you @necromanticzz!)

Well, the short answer is that Shouma is debilitating incapable of explaining himself, and it's probably because he thinks there isn't any explanation he can offer. Shouma thinks that he is a monster--a selfish monster.

One of the first things we see from him is agreeing that he's a monster, when the motw mocks him for the first little boy's mother's fear. Then Shouma justifies his presence with the fact that there are other monsters for him to stop.

We see a similar pattern after Shouma meets Dente, and then decides that he'll fight Stomach instead of running. Their selfishness is hurting humans, but Shouma can protect humans, so he has a justification to stay with them.

Shouma never approaches the human world as a place he belongs. We see from the flashback of his mother getting pressed that he'd been called a human by his siblings--that aside from his non-functional gavv, he was treated as basically a human. But he never calls himself human after leaving the granute world--once he can't be pressed, and he's around humans, he's a granute from that point forward.

Shouma is obviously a metaphor for multiracial human identity, feeling like he doesn't belong/qualify as any one thing by the standards of that culture. But how he's handled also reminds me of a trans/nonbinary narrative--specifically, the idea that trans people are treated by society as whichever gender would result in the most harm in the situation. Shouma very rarely even calls himself half-human/half-granute--he's just whatever doesn't belong where he is, neither instead of both.

Moving to his relationship with Hanto, the key factor in Shouma deciding that he doesn't have to keep his distance from everyone, and can go back to be with Sachika, is Hanto declaring that he (as a Kamen Rider) isn't a monster. God, it's amazing how Shouma is in the suit, but the acting still manages to portray that he is just bowled over by getting to be seen as a hero, not a monster. He fell in love with Hanto here.

Then, as Shouma spends time with Sachika and Hanto (especially after the Rider identity reveals), we see how afraid he is of them finding out he's a granute. For Sachika, it seems to be a fear of revealing anything that would upset her, would interrupt her happiness (that he decides is his responsibility). For Hanto, it seems to ultimately be a fear of him deciding that Shouma is a monster.

And Shouma does also feel guilty about hiding his identity--he worries about how it can possibly work out--but it never even crosses his mind that explaining himself could have a good outcome. The issue of trust is clearer on Hanto's end, but it's also there for Shouma--he has no trust that anyone would accept him for what he is. It's not even a consideration that he could. To him, it's a choice between, "Should I keep up the lie so we can be happy together? Or should I stop being with them?"

And when I tell you that when Shouma calls himself selfish for wanting to keep up the lie, it absolutely gutted me. That's what he said about Stomach Inc! About them literally eating people! But just wanting to be happy, wanting to not be alone, is selfish to him, because he doesn't think he has any right to it. *wails*

And finally, when Glotta drops the bomb, his only response is to freeze. Even when it's just Lakia asking if he's related to them, Shouma can't reply. (I wonder if he's going to continue to let Lakia think he's all granute?) But he completely shuts down when Hanto confronts him.

Like, if he had been able to respond to Hanto asking if he's a granute by saying "half," that would have changed the entire interaction! It immediately makes clear Shouma's complicated situation and makes space for explanations. But he couldn't--he doesn't see himself as having any claim to humanity where Hanto is concerned. He's a human to granute, and he's a granute to humans, and he has to earn his place anywhere by making others happy enough to justify his presence.

*deep breath* MY BOY IS SO FUCKING LONELY!!! 😭 HIS AND HANTO'S TRAUMAS ARE SO PERFECTLY POSITIONED TO TRIGGER EACH OTHER'S!!! I LOVE GAVV!!!

(Side note, part of why I have so many thoughts on this is that it parallels another obsession, Mairimashita! Iruma-kun, with the compelling approach to belonging and concealed social identities, and especially with the presumption of "predator" and "victim" roles as part of identities.)

[eah-mh-aus]

Looking back at Apple and Ashlynn's dynamic again and they're similar in a few ways if you really think about it:

Both girls have their mothers die before their father for the sake of the girls following their destinies.

Both are destined to be raised by somebody who's considered evil, treating them poorly.

Both are destined to have a Prince Charming save them in different ways, even though neither of them are actually in love with them.

There's a few things that could've had Apple understand Ashlynn's fears of losing her own mom and choosing to rebel. Considering how close she is to her own mom, Apple would probably feel bad, but internalizes it to the point of hiding it since her destiny is not quite like Ashlynn's.

To a degree, Apple's destiny sounds like an absolute horror story compared to Ash's, which probably adds to how Apple can't see why Ash would want to rebel at first. Ash has to deal with an abusive family she marries out of, but Apple has to deal with an evil queen wanting her dead and poisoning her for being prettier.

Ashlynn just wants to keep her mother alive and marry whoever she chooses to be with. Apple is so persistent in everyone following their own destinies that Ash might possibly sound ungrateful for what she has in her own story.

Apple thinks more about the outcome of her trauma, not the issues themselves. Ash, on the other hand, thinks about the actual problems that she has to deal with in her story, not just the outcome of having a happily ever after.

Although Apple isn't in love with Daring and never really addresses Darling saving her, she'd rather follow her destiny with someone she doesn't love rather than break tradition and cause everyone to potentially go poof. Ashlynn is much more open about deciding whoever she loves, though, not wanting to reduce herself to marrying a Charming she doesn't love.

[randomfoggytiger]

Mulder's Alien Baby Baby Trauma In-Depth (Part XVIII): Trial by Fire and Trust Falls

Mulder and Doggett finally become a team as the Galpex-Orpheus crew turns mutinous... and Mulder must decide what kind of father, and man, he will become in the wake of these events.

WHAT YOU GONNA DO WHEN IT ALL BURNS DOWN?

Racing into the radio room to find the place ablaze, Mulder freezes briefly, mouth open in fear, before Agent Doggett sweeps in and pulls at his arm. Both rush outside, looking around for something to stop the fire as they reemerge.

Doggett's gesture here is important: on the heels of Mulder's willingness to play ball, it introduces another layer of communication between them-- touch. Now established, Mulder-- a naturally physical person-- will extend his modus operandi to include Scully's new partner.

There's only one extinguisher on hand, prompting Agent Doggett's hunt-and-retrieve mission… which, in turn, hurries him right into the ambush of a very frightened, very paranoid Diego Garza. 

It’s a neat little role reversal: the replaced is now put in position to rescue the replacer-- payback for Doggett storming the DOD and helping the gang escape-- and the first of two x-files related cases where Mulder must save his rival-turned-damsel-in-distress. (All things considered, it’s rare that he's not only placed in the hero’s role, but successful at it.)

Mulder heads back into the control room, alone, giving the audience a clearer glimpse of his stress and repressed terror (as the script notes here.)

Puzzling over the saboteurs' obsession with this room, Mulder's spider senses suddenly kick on when Doggett doesn't reappear an undetermined amount of time later. Those suspicions-- and perhaps a growing awareness of his own lack of reciprocative communication-- are confirmed when the personal radios also go unanswered.

THE TRUTH, FATHERS, AND SONS

Doggett comes to in Diego's hideout, held back from escape at shivering knife point. Looking about the den for means of rapport, he notices a picture taped up to a wire mesh-- Diego's wife, son, and daughter.

It's no mere coincidence, either: Vienen seeks to unpack Mulder's priorities as Scully's due date approaches. We know he has thawed from his distancing (post here), and we know that he has fully accepted his role as the baby's father (posts here, here, here, and here.) But we also know he still jockeys for his right to the X-Files, and that he still believes "the truth" is out there.

However, that's the trick he keeps falling for: "the truth" will always be out there, will always tantalize with answers-- but one must never sacrifice their lives to chase it or they run the risk of looking back at the road not traveled with regret. Like Mulder, Bill Mulder had the same heart and thirst for the truth; but he never turned back, and "the truth" sucked him dry, snatching away his daughter, tearing apart his family, and destroying the man he once was (posts here and here)-- the ultimate price of dedication.

Diego's son and daughter look up at the camera in a mirror image of Mulder and Samantha's happy faces in Dreamland II-- a mirror image, perhaps, of the picture his son will take in the future if he, too, loses a father to "the truth."

Mulder must learn what Frank Spotnitz, The X-Files co-writer, once wisely stated: "You can't get the truth. You can't. There's a larger truth, though: that you can't harness the forces of the cosmos, but you may find somebody else. ...Love is the only truth we can hope to know, as human beings." That's what Mulder and Scully found after nine years. And that's a lot."

We shall see what he decides during Vienen's close.

Bartering his way into freedom, Doggett convinces Diego Garza to let him go… and walks into a second trap. 

The man from his and Mulder’s interrogation (post here) “finds” him, intent on locating Garza-- with purely altruistic motives, of course. Not able to hide his malintent completely, Bo attacks instead, gaining the upper hand and pinning John Doggett down by the throat.

Right before the infection is spread, Mulder materializes, pipe in hand; and beats Bo Taylor over the head--

one, two, three times--

--as Doggett watches on in shock.

(The below set is staggeringly easy to map onto the ideas David Duchovny had for exploring his character's abduction and torture: what ferocity did Mulder's nature resort to-- ineffectively-- in the slim hopes of beating off another round of tests? Not ferocious enough to lose touch with his humanity, as we're shown; but if that be the case, his measures were probably largely ineffectual.)

Doggett is paralyzed at the sudden influx and immediate recession of chaos; but snaps out of it with Mulder’s helping hand and wheezy, no-nonsense, “Get up, Agent Doggett-- there’s more where that came from." 

Here, then, is the first time Mulder reaches out to Doggett. Empedocles marked his initial efforts of grace and emotional honesty (post here); however, he withdrew those efforts in the beginning of Vienen, stung by perceived rejection (post here.) But the oil rig's forced containment and the other man's up-front, straightforward overtures of respect and honesty have convinced him wholly. (So wholly, in fact, that John Doggett becomes his only hope for the files after he resigns.)

Mulder guides him out this time-- a quick gesture of familiarity.

A few important things to discuss:

This is possibly the second time in canon we’ve seen such blunt, personal, intent-to-kill brutality from Mulder. The first was Duane Barry, whom he let go when rage switched to realization. Here, he beats a man over the head, one-two-three-- totally focused; and rolls off the incident immediately to escape with Doggett. Why?

We’ve seen Mulder completely disregard evil or supernatural entities without remorse. He’s even killed a few monsters in his day-- the Flukeman, for example. This, then, points to his unspoken perspective: to him, Bo Taylor was no longer a man, merely an inhuman vessel for the Oil.

And that presents us with something interesting: the ruthless lengths that Mulder will go to protect himself or others from these creatures is concurrent with his current mental stability. Remorse and pity, empathy and second chances are unique to his nature-- he can’t hold onto vengeance for long. But creatures who offer no pity, who feel nothing other than the desire to hollow out other humanity for an alien purpose, surface the darker aspects of his traits.

Further, this incident reveals how on-edge Mulder still is after his abduction: he may be suppressing his PTSD, he may even be in therapy to treat it, but finding himself trapped in quarantine with alien technology has him on savage pins and needles. He doesn’t just beat the man once, doesn’t just hit him twice, just in case-- he batters him thrice without flinching. 

I wonder what could have been showcased during Mulder’s captivity-- what psychological depths the character would have had to plunder in order to remain mentally intact. Since that was not to be, we are left with mere glimpses to intuit his present state: a tendency towards avoidance that erupts into agitated bursts of violence in the name of self-preservation. 

Lastly, one can draw a parallel between Mulder and his father here, as well: in Travelers, we're shown that Bill wants to expose the Consortium's secrets but is too afraid to buck the system outright. When he solicits Arthur Dales's curiosity, Dales is put in danger and nearly fed to a monster while Bill cows under the gaze of his supervisor. His son, however, will rip apart any power structure or hunt down any predator, no matter the costs to his reputation. Mulder's instincts, therefore, are more self-sacrificing and altruistic than his father's-- one who will act as well as react.

Disturbed, Doggett gazes back at the body for a second longer before following Mulder’s exiting steps. 

The men sprinting back to the radio room; and Mulder hurriedly locks the door while plainly suggesting, “You know anything about radio, Agent Doggett?”

“Yeah, I know a little.” 

“Let’s see what little you know and get that ship-to-shore working.” 

Confused but catching up, Doggett asks, “Call who?” 

“Anybody who can get us off here--”

Heavy bangs and thuds knock against the door-- monsters determined to get in. 

“Get to work!” Mulder snarls, aggressive with panic.

Grabbing a long, metal rod, he prepares for the invading forces, slipping naturally into a practiced baseball stance-- one more life lesson he learned from his father and the aliens; one more little touch of humanity he might not be able to pass onto his own child.

GOING DOWN SWINGING

Night falls, and the men are still banging down the door. 

Maneuvering the last of the heavy furniture as a barricade, Mulder shouts, “Agent Doggett!” over his shoulder. 

“I’m working on it!”

“I don’t think this door is going to hold much longer!” His litany is interrupted by an unexpected burst of music; and he angrily turns around to yell, “Wagner?” above the chaos. 

Raising his hands, Doggett says, “What do you want?” 

An idea rupturing forth, Mulder dashes close, excited. “I take it back, it’s perfect.” 

“Hold this--” the other man warns, handing over a wire as he slowly traces another line to find the microphone. 

The two are shoulder-to-shoulder, heads bent above this shared piece of salvation-- finally, a nearly functioning team-- as they hope against hope their transmission will get through. And this time, Mulder doesn't lock eyes with Doggett over the phone (post here.)

Fortunately for them, Scully picks up the transfer. “Agent Doggett?”

“Agent Scully,” Doggett tries to assure, “yeah, I’m right here.”

“Can you hear me?”

“Yes!” Mulder yells as the bangs get louder and louder. 

“What was that?” she asks, hand to her other ear as the noises filter through the receiver. 

“That’s someone knocking on the door--” Mulder hollers, running back to bolster his barricade. 

“Mulder, listen to me--” Scully begins, unaware that her lecture is not only untimely but also fruitless; unaware that her two partners are hanging by a thread from death, and that the one she is addressing is already across the room. Despite everything, her first partner turns, a smile of stress and intimacy swiping upward. “--I think I know why they killed this man, if not how they killed him.” 

“Right now we got bigger problems,” Doggett insists. “We need a chopper.”   

“We’ve got choppers on the way,” Scully assures, nodding-- and aren’t they lucky to have her thinking alongside them, preparing one step ahead in case everything goes wrong? 

Shoved up against the furniture, Mulder hollers out instructions. “Tell her all the men are infected-- she’s got to get word to the choppers not to land on the platform!” 

“Well, how they supposed to get us?” the other man points out, worry beginning to wear down his stoic mask. 

A hinge cracks through as glass breaks-- the door is giving, and fast. 

“Well that issue--” Mulder screams, “--is rapidly becoming moot!” 

Agent Doggett hops back on the radio, doing his best to relay over the static-- and is rudely and abruptly interrupted by Agent Mulder, weapon in hand, knocking the radio box aside, stealthily and without warning. “What are you doing?” he exclaims as the other man continues to kick the box to death. 

“Destroying their ability to transmit-- just like Diego and Simon.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about contact.”  

“Contact with who? The Mothership?” Doggett chides, eyeing Mulder with keyed-up concern-- Bo Taylor's odd behavior and Mulder's beat-down not far from his thoughts.

Mulder pauses, noticing the abrupt quiet; and places a hand on the other man’s chest (yet another comfortable gesture of familiarity.) “Agent Doggett, listen--”

“No, you just back off.”

“No, no, no. Listen,” he repeats, ignoring the other’s arm swipe, head turned as his body tilts towards the door. 

Complete silence. 

Mulder immediately undoes the latch and peeks through, fellow agent right behind. Advancing into the hallway, he answers Doggett’s “Where’d they go?” with a mumbling, leery, “I don’t know, and I don’t want to stick around to find out. Let’s go, Agent Doggett.” 

He’s on the move, leaping up the nearest ladder when his teammate bolts past-- “I can’t leave him-- Diego Garza”-- without waiting for him to follow. 

“Agent Doggett!” Mulder bellows, stress and fear and concern writ large as he doubles back. 

Reaching Doggett, he finds the man slumped over Garza’s body; and calls out, "Is he coming?" When the other agent straightens, Mulder looks past him and recognizes the posture of death-- but waits, eyes locked on his new friend in concern.

"No," is the reply. Mulder nods understandingly. Man down.

The moment, like many others, must be shoved aside: the choppers’ rotors whirl overhead-- they must keep going. He grabs Doggett's arm and propels them back into the bowels of the rig, taking one last look at the body behind. 

“Agent Doggett, I think I know why they let us go,” he concludes, catching up and passing Doggett with ease while puffing out a theory. (Note: another touch as he flies by.)

“What? Agent Mulder, what are you talking about-- what’s going on?”

Pipes begin to give way, bending and bursting in puffs of heady steam. 

“They’re going to blow the rig!”

“Who?”

Mulder nods at the men appearing from the shadows-- a mixture of "of course" and "right on time" and "do you understand now?"-- before Doggett grabs his attention elsewhere. 

Leading the charge down another hallway, he almost runs straight into a plume of orange fire; and Mulder, forced to follow the other agent back the way they came, presses as close as possible, escaping the vicinity as fast as he can. 

Now covered in oil and fleeing firebombs, both plunge through the wreck, halted here and there by various Black Oiled men blocking their paths before being consumed by the falling rubble and flames. The same pattern holds true: Doggett begins in the lead, Mulder swiftly catches up, Doggett lets him pass without a word, and Mulder brushes his arm as he slides by-- silent acknowledgment of each other's capabilities and sacrifices.

When they scramble to an opening, a helicopter floats down nearby, directing them to dive into the night sea for a (hopefully) safe recovery. 

"What's he saying?" Agent Doggett asks, relying on Mulder this time.

Making out the pilot's hand motions-- in the dark, yards away (that's good eye sight)-- he replies, "I guess he wants us to jump!"

Former soldier Doggett takes this as a matter of course. As the choppers scoot off, he rapidly channels his adrenaline into action, directing, “Now wait a minute, Agent Mulder-- I’m in charge here. On a two count.”

Mulder looks over, baffled at the other man's teasing bravado. Eyebrows scrunched and mouth parted in fear, he's too anxious to feel humored; but tries to quip past these concerns with a wry, “How about a twenty count?” 

Exchanging another glance in commiserative silence, the new X-Files agent pops off, “One… TWO!”, and leads the charge.

Both men barely escape the last series of all-consuming blasts from the floor above--

-- but the horror of being that close while no longer on solid footing sets Mulder off, and he screams all the way down to the gulf below.

They are, we must assume, rescued by the flying machinery taking off into the night. 

CONCLUSION

The last part of Vienen is the trickiest: Mulder's resignation. We shall see what he decides, next time.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[tooselfaware]

Cale being so shocked after reading the countdown paper from God of Death really brings out Kim Rok Soo.

It also brings out all his repressed fear from the past and stirs his fear in the present. But he keeps internalizing everything! And then he wonders why everyone is so concerned even with his mask on.

He says he's weak but he always tries to hide his vulnerabilities. He doesn't want people depending on him but never wants to fail the people depending on him.

It's just so sad, but very human. He's been living like that for so long that even he himself doesn't see why he's afraid because "he can't be afraid."

[twilit-tragedy]

god fucking damn my life, bro. I find a couple of ants in my room and immediately freak out. I start feeling shit crawling on me and turn on a flashlight to go look for some hidden source, already hyperventilating. And then I remember I woke up late and didn't take my morning meds. Girl, we have a balcony and my mom keeps plants there. Calm the fuck down. You like having the window open. It's FINE. It's just ants.

Last weekend I skipped my morning meds two days in a row cuz I woke up late and I feared sertraline insomnia - which, yes, in hindsight was a bad idea - and on Sunday I had a full meltdown. Granted, also period-related, but god fucking damn it. I tore my whole room apart. I couldn't vacuum under my bed easily because of my desk's placement so I decided I was going to move furniture around and reorganize my room. On a Sunday afternoon, in the summer and with tendonitis. All cuz I saw some ants and couldn't verify with my own two eyes every corner of the room. And because I couldn't physically move the wardrobe and bookcase, I guess I took out my anxiety with the remaining furniture. And god fucking damn it, here I am again a week later.

I keep finding ants (3) running on my desk all of a sudden while I'm SITTING THERE and have no idea ("no idea") where they're coming from (engage the phone flashlight routine). I moved this bitch AWAY from the window and they're fucking HUNTING me or smth (it's 35ºC out, girl). I hate my life. And I hate that any suggestion of bugs makes me start feeling shit on my skin that isn't there. Dumb fucking brain. Anyway I need sleep and to take my sertraline asap or else.

[urfavoritemistake]

hey reddit is it normal to get an anxiety attack whenever your roommate exists in the same space as you

[savanir]

The What Corps?

“we have you now spook! there is nowhere you can run and hide with our new spectral tethers active!”

Danny winces at the small metal clips that have hooked themselves in his leg, some new GIW tech that is messing with his powers.

“oh yeah? I was just dying for you guys to give me a challenge” plan. plan. He's gotta think of a plan to get out of here and fast. He takes a steadying breath and starts to look for anything that can help him.

he can’t get caught here. He just can't. He simply won’t allow himself.

suddenly the two GIW goons in front of him click their earpieces to clearly listen to what someone else is telling them, Danny is very glad for his own enhanced senses.

“Operatives K and O, be advised, there have been sightings of a new ectoplasmic entity near your location. Other operatives report that it’s incredibly small and moves fast. watch your backs, this may be an ambush”

small and fast? it better not be some poor little blob ghost, Danny sort of hopes it’s some manner of ectowasp, at least that could be entertaining to see.

“you better not be hoping for back up, ecto scum”

“I have no idea what you are talking about”

It's then that a small bright green light zips on scene and weaves through crowds in the distance with ease and then speeds up towards the two operatives who do not hesitate to shoot, missing completely like the storm troopers they are.

Whatever it is, it is indeed going very fast but Danny manages to figure out what it looks like and it appears to be a… ring?

“hold it you tiny accessory shaped ecto fiend!”

The ring does a speedy circle around Operative O while K is lining up a shot and ends up blasting the poor guy point blank in his face, “O!”

Danny takes a step forward with an arm outstretched and a “oh damn! Are you alright?” on his lips when the ring takes the chance to slip on his finger. “Daniel Fenton of Earth”

Danny already had a freakout about a ghost jewelry getting on him, his experiences with those so far have been incredibly bad after all, what with the rings and crowns and pendants… now this damn thing is just straight up outing him! 

Thank the ancients the two GIW stooges are too busy with each other right now to pay close attention to what this weird ring is saying.

“You have the ability to overcome great fear” ah so this is related to him steeling himself just now? Maybe? or something??

You have been chosen” never good, we are back to freaking out again.

“Welcome to the green lantern corps” 

… the what?

Danny notices that his usual outfit suddenly has more green going on, and his DP symbol has some sort of… he guess it’s supposed to be a lantern, maybe? shape around it.

He’s somehow even more glowy now, and there is something on his face. Feeling its shape makes him think it’s some sort of mask.

The metal clip things are no longer attached to his legs though so that’s great!

“You’re not getting away so easily ecto scum! sentient ghost paraphernalia coming to your rescue or no!” They both aim their weapons to take a shot.

Danny figures he can now easily hold them back with his usual shields,“you guys realize you just called this weird ring sentient and thereby negate the whole nonsentie-ack!”

“Attacking a corps lantern is punishable offense as of the instatement of the galactic diplomatic immunity as declared by the-” Okay so now Danny is just raising his eyebrow at this weird as fuck ring. Just what is it going on about?

“notifying nearby lanterns and requesting assistance with apprehension of hostiles”

what?

“getting your friends to help you out vile spook? such a thing is useless with the Blackout still very much in place”

Well… the two streaks of green light in the distance is making Danny doubt that statement.

Maybe there is more to this Lantern corps thing than he thought… And something tells him his life is about to get even more complicated than it already is.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Soldier x Reader - NonCon

Yandere! Soldier with his foreign accent and foreign guns. With muscles that show even underneath all his body armour.

Yandere! Soldier who's part of a platoon sent to keep an eye on your neighbourhood. Who's looking for insurrectionists hiding in plain site.

Yandere! Soldier who's suspicious of everyone and everything.

Yandere! Solider who notices you all too quickly, with your books and your pamphlets. Who's immediately suspicious about the people that come and go from your apartment at all hours.

Yandere! Soldier who barely even waits for permission from his commander before he's leading a squad to bust down your door.

Yandere! Soldier who somehow ends up in your panty drawer and who lingers far longer than he needs to. Who searches through them - ostensibly for contraband - just so he can feel the silk and lace on his calloused hands. Who keeps picturing these lacy little things under your neat pleated skirt.

Yandere! Soldier who's pissed as hell when he can't find any evidence of rebellion. Hell, even those pamphlets you were carrying around the other day are gone. Who's disturbed by how calm you are - despite a bunch of soldiers ransacking your place.

Yandere! Soldier who grabs onto your wrist right before he leaves, who looks into your eyes and says that he knows something about you is suspicious. That you might have escaped this time but at some point, you're going to slip up.

Yandere! Soldier who can't help but notice how fragile your wrists are, how delicate your neck looks. How helpless you would be if it weren't for your frighteningly sharp tongue.

Yandere! Soldier who grins just a little when you threaten to demand a replacement door from his Sergeant.

Yandere! Soldier who finds himself stopping outside your apartment more and more on his patrols. Who tells his squadmates that he's suspicious of you, when really he just wants a chance to watch you go about your day.

Yandere! Soldier who finds himself gripping his rifle when he sees you walking alone with your male classmates. Who more than once has them stopped and searched.

Yandere! Soldier who takes his frustration out on his sparing partners - to the point that no one wants to train with him for fear of splintered bones.

Yandere! Soldier who keeps running into you. And despite his body armour, his rifle, his rank and power, you never seem impressed or even afraid of him.

Yandere! Soldier who watches as the martial law on your city becomes stricter and stricter. First the curfew, and then the armed checkpoints, and then the armored vehicles parked on seemingly every street corner.

Yandere! Soldier who knows what really happens to suspected rebels when they're held for questioning. Who keeps thinking of your wrists dwarfed by his hands. Who keeps thinking of your pretty hands mangled by the interrogators.

Yandere! Soldier who finds himself alone outside your apartment, so nervous that his hands are trembling. Who knocks and knocks on your new door until you open it, still sluggish with sleep.

Yandere! Soldier who doesn't give you a chance to scream as he shoves his way into your apartment and kicks the door closed behind him.

Yandere! Soldier who manages to hold onto you even as you kick and bite and swear at him.

Yandere! Soldier who hisses at you to just shut up and listen. That for once, he's trying to help you.

Yandere! Soldier who has to literally grab you by your collar and slam you against the wall before you stop trying to bite him.

Yandere! Soldier who tells you that the army intends to arrest you tomorrow morning on suspicion of insurgency. That he knows a place where you'll be safe.

Yandere! Solider who doesn't listen to your complaints or objections. Who zip ties your wrists together and gags you before hoisting you up on his shoulder.

Yandere! Soldier who doesn't even notice you banging your fists against his back.

Yandere! Soldier who drives all the way across the city in an armoured vehicle with you tossed across the backseat. At the checkpoints, his fellow soldiers just smirk and tell him to enjoy himself.

Yandere! Soldier who brings you to an old room in an old building. Who tosses you down on the bed and suddenly realises just how close you are.

Yandere! Soldier who slowly leans down to kiss your cheek. Who smells your perfume and feels himself slowly going feral.

Yandere! Solider who kisses down your jawline and then down your neck, his lips as light as feathers. Who runs his palms up your waist, marvelling at the softness of your skin against the roughness of his hands.

Yandere! Soldier who pins your hands above your head so he can admire your body stretched out underneath him.

Yandere! Soldier who knows this is wrong. Who knows it's going to hurt you and haunt you. Who feels his heart clench when he looks into your crying eyes.

Yandere! Soldier who knows, but fucks you anyway.

Yandere! Soldier who is so gentle, that you almost wish he meant it. Who keeps one arm wrapped around your waist the entire time. Who keeps whispering to you in his native language, his voice rough as in prayer.

Yandere! Soldier who keeps his forehead pressed against yours even as he thrusts deep inside you.

Yandere! Soldier who stays inside of you even after he comes. Who just wants to feel the warmth of your body under his. Who wants to pretend that the little muffled sounds you're making are out of affection.

Yandere! Soldier who cuts your bonds away with his combat knife. The blade catches the moonlight and it breaks his heart when you flinch away from him.

Yandere! Soldier who tries to convince himself he did the right thing. You're safe from the interrogation room, aren't you?

Yandere! Soldier who looks at your tears in the moonlight and realises his love was the worst thing that ever happened to you.

Yandere! Soldier who falls asleep with you in his arms, his dog tags pressed against your shoulder blades. Yandere! Soldier who knows that he's a monster, but holds you all the same.

Yandere! Soldier who whispers to you just before he falls asleep.

Мне жаль

I'm sorry.

Но я люблю тебя

But I love you.

[dmitriene]

living with kidnapper könig, you fear of him, even though you know you'll never get out, seeing the dark, tall forest that surrounds the small, wooden cabin in which he keeps you, the only reminder of the world outside is your ability to look through the frosted glass window, you still run away from him like a little rabbit.

hiding from him in all corners of the rooms, curling up and imagining that neither he nor you are here, poisoning your head with hopes of salvation, even when könig finds you again and again, pulling you into his strong, beefy arms, stroking you on the head like a cute, docile pet and cooing that he was looking for you everywhere.

you don't know why he doesn't hurt you, doesn't beats you, doesn't humiliate you, doesn't break you, he treats you like something tiny and weak, behaving as if you couldn't cope without his help, in feeding, in changing, in washing, even if you allow your arms and legs to twitch in response to his touch, hitting him, könig only bends and kisses your feet, asking if you hurt yourself, schatz.

he wants to have something of his own, forever his own, to the point of greedy trembling in his fingers when he strokes your soft, innocent body, clean, covered only with his quivering, sloppy kisses with which he wears down every part of your skin, under your teary, glossed eyes, over each of your moles, each bone, over something so intimate like your clothed pussy.

you shouldn't let him touch you there, slobber like a mutt over your panties, now embarrassingly sticky with his drool and your seeping slick, sticking to your puffy, fluttering folds when könig spreads them with a tip of his fat, lolled tongue, slurping wetly, making your supple thighs squirm, squeeze around his head, pulling a pleased rumble from his throat.

könig can't make you moan, but he does, making your vocal chords sing song squeaky, syrupy keens when your tummy cramps, heaves with this intense, fizzing heat that makes you tremble, toes curling, twitching, as you hiccup strained cries while gushing in your panties, letting him taste it, get addicted to your sweet sounds and viscous slick.

shouldn't end up bundled in his predatory, pawing grasp, but you're still here, huddled against his burly chest, while he kisses those glistening, thin streaks of tears that wet your warm cheeks, rough thumb rubbing round circles over your hip bone, as könig soothes you with hoarse words of praise, building a shaky foundation of trust, while you slowly doze off.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[kurohe]

Things you can do to actively participate in the revolution

Here's the list !

I know some of those will look really silly, i promise they are not. And obviously, this is not a checklist, you don't have to do everything. But they're steps that you can absolutely take if you wish to, and they WILL help.

(i am continually correcting things when people point out mistakes. Thanks everyone for your help)

(under the cut !)

1) Let's start off with a very easy one you can do right now: stop using Chrome. It's a google owned browser, and it sents all of your data towards it. Mozilla is a very good replacement, but almost anything will do, really. We revolting against capitalism as a whole, and this is a good first step

Also, resign your amazon prime subscription.

2) Start stealing things from supermarkets and malls. I am not kidding. Little things, that aren't really monitored: a can of food, a lighter, a pair of socks. Condiments are particularly easy to hide in bags or pockets. Steal hygiene products, steal food.

Remember that you should have access to those for free, and you don't because a few rich guys don't want you to.

Additional tip: train station stores are very easy to steal from, because they're so busy. But don't put yourself in danger. Check beforehand if they check bags at checkout, look out for employees that might notice what you're doing. Don't be reckless.

(edit: this used to also say airports, but i've been told it's way too high risk as it's considered a federal crime. Thanks for letting me know)

3) In the same line, if you see someone stealing anything from a big store, no you didn't.

4) I know a lot of people are scared of disrespecting rules. By fear of being caught, or by guilt. My advice is: start disrespecting stupid, meaningless rules. I don't have specific exemples, but you'll encounter them and wonder why you're doing that. Stop doing it. This will train you to be able to disobey autority way easier.

5) Put stickers everywhere. If you already have them, go ham. Especially on public property (lamposts are amazing). If you don't, buy them from artists or independant stores, not big brands. If you cannot afford them, remember that you can simply write stuff on an A4 paper and plaster it to walls. Or even post its !

6) Carry a sharpie with you at all time, the big black ones. If you see propaganda, scribble it out. Keep a look out for terfs stickers, maga posters, etc. Also good for getting rid of transphobic and sexist stuff written on public restroom stalls !

8) Learn how to sew. I know, that sounds dumb ! But i promise you, not only will it be amazing to trade with other people ("i'll sew back ur shirt and in exchange, you give me a can of peaches !"), corporations also haaaate when you know how to fix your clothes. Because they want you to buy more. You'll spend a lot less money if you know how to fix em

7) Buy locally. This means going to the market or small stores, and thrifting your clothes. If you can't for money or accessibility reasons, try trading with your friends, family and neighbours. Get communication going in your circles, and you'll realise there are a lot of things that you can simply trade with or buy from people around you. Like a jar of jam against some eggs, or a pair of socks for a t-shirt you don't wear anymore !

9) If you have the space and the money, grow your own food, and share it or sell it around you. Be careful, some assholes will call the FDA on you. Do that with people you trust.

Additional tip: growing vegetables and fruits can be a real nightmare. You can absolutely start by just growing some basil or mint :)

10) Organise. Join leftist groups online, even if it's just to see what's being said, you don't even need to interact. Follow creators, repost and share their content. By doing that, you'll stay informed on group movements like strikes, protests and boycotts, which you can then participate in. It's very important you're connected to other ppl and the movements that are started !

11) Unionize. I'm very sorry I don't know the exact way unions work in the US, but if you can, join one. They will help you in times of needs, especially if you're a student or a worker. If you're not sure how to do that, absolutely ask around to people you know are very active politically, around you or online. People will help.

12) Stay. Informed. Follow independant papers and news outlet. If you can afford it, give them a dollar or two. They are fighting everyday for access to unbiased information for all, and sadly, their independance means that they rely almost entirely on donations and people simply engaging with what they put out.

If you can't access those: do not get your news from TV. Ever. Or anywhere else that has been bought by the far right. Sadly, the majority of TV channels are just the worst.

13) Share that information. Talk to those you trust and who are ready to listen to you, and tell them about what's happening. Get angry with them. Revolution stems from people coming together and realising that they're being used and profited off of. Share videos and posts relating to politics, especially informative videos.

And, most importantly: fact check. All of the time.

14) Go to protests ! If you've never been, i know it can be scary. But you can stay in the middle (don't go all the way to the front, that's where stuff can get heated) and scream and walk with everyone else. You'll meet people who, like you, want things to change. Capitalism wants you to stay as unconnected to others as possible, and that's a great way to fight that.

Sometimes, there are sites that have a planning for all protests happening in a city. Look up if one exists for yours

15) Create and strenghten community. I know i really struggled with this one, because it's so vague. But here's a few places you can start:

-Go and introduce yourself to your neighbours, if you deem it safe. Give them a little gift if you can afford it, like a pack of pasta.

-Make new friends, even if they aren't deep friendships. You need connections. Online or irl, both are fine- don't stay isolated.

-If you already have community, go check on them right now. Ask your friends how they're doing, and if they need anything- ask how they're being impacted by what's happening right now politically.

16) Look for ways to fuck over the institutions in easy ways. One example that went around tumblr a lot is letting dandelions grow in your backyard, because landlords fucking hate it. If you work in retail or fast food, cheat. Accidentally forget to scan the diapers. Put in 7 nuggets instead of 6.

17) Engage in art. MAKE art. Music, shitty paint drawings, craft, anything as long as you're being creative. Share it. If you feel like you can't do that, then support artists. Make a point to look up cool illustrations, and new music. Go to the cinema.

(edit: been told that it's very risky for walmart workers to not scan things, so beware.)

If you're an artist currently in an underpaid office job, please, by the love of god, be creative during office hours. You're underpaid, they do not deserve your full time and attention. Take 30 minutes to write that snippet you've been thinking about.

(and actually, if you're underpaid at all: do the minimum required. So that you can't be fired, but that's it. Any more effort is not worth it. Companies will never be thankful for what you do.)

18) Look up books that your state banned, and go read them. You can get them secondhand, or as pdfs online. (if anyone needs ressources, i will glady look for and share them.)

19) Seek education. There's a lot of youtube channels out there talking about educational subjects in a fun way. Some things the rich assholes who run the country specifically don't want you to learn more about are: biology, history and archeology, social and economic sciences. GO LEARN ABOUT THOSE.

And, actually, read books in general if you can. Yes, fanfics count !

The people in power don't want you to be educated. It's why they eviscerated the education system.

20) PIRATE. I cannot stress this enough, anything you can pirate (that isn't from small, indie creators, except if you absolutely can't afford it) do it. Download music illegally, torrent movies and games. If you want access to academical studies and papers, some writers will give them to you for free if you email them about it. There are also ways to go around paywalls.

21) Don't fall for the traps of "progressive brands". Lately, i've seen a lot of praise for Ben and Jerry's for openly supporting lgbtq rights and being globally anti-trump. They are still a brand. Avoid buying from any big names when you can. That being said, if you have to, check beforehand which ones and what their history is. Some are more evil than others.

Additional tip: a lot of brands you see in stores are actually owned by bigger brands. One prime example of this is Nestle, who are fucking evil, but they own a shitload of other big names. Be careful what you buy.

22) I hate to say this, but be prepared to defend yourself. Revolutions are never peaceful. You will get in danger. If you can, get in ok physical shape. If you can't, buy a gun. (Remember Alabama has a 99% acceptation rate, you can get one in 10 minutes.) I hate firearms, but the enemy will have them too. Arm yourself.

If none of those are available options to you, please, make sure you have someone around you that will be able to protect you, or a place where you can be safe. Whether you are disabled, a minor, or anything else. Don't put yourself in more danger than is necessary.

23) Last but not least, be kind. When someone cuts off a woman speaking, interrupt and give her the floor back. Shame those who think it's right to say bigoted shit in public. Listen to those around you. If you can't act, then remember to always have empathy for the homeless, for drug users, for immigrants. Understand they are people just like you. You are not immune to propaganda and prejudice, no matter who you are. Always question yourself and your biases.

(if you've read this far, please repost. We need this to reach as many people as possible)

I want to remind you that you're not alone. I know things seem hopeless, but the simple fact that you're reading this is proof it's not. I don't live in the US, but i'm supporting you as best i can from where i am, and sending you strenght.

If you have any questions, do ask away. I'll end on this image that's very dear to me:

[heedthetenofwands]

ghost x (lowkey unhinged) sunshine f!reader

suggestive nsfw (but non-explicit)

His girl was the sweetest thing. Smile as bright as the sun and you looked at him like he’d hung the stars and the moon. Coming home to you was always the highlight of his day.

But something was amiss ever since a week ago.

He had come back from base, a day of planning for the next mission and cleaning up from the last, and his heart yearned to be at home with you. Stepping through the front door, he was ready to hear his bird chirping his name and telling him about the day. But the house was silent, the lights were off, and he couldn’t hear a thing.

He waited a moment before calling out your name. It was only when he walked up the stairs to the bedroom that he saw you sitting on the edge of the bed. Your back was to the door.

“Love?” He called to you. You turned your head back to see him before standing up and making your way around the bed to smile and greet him. You hug him tightly, a bit firmer than usual and he had to brace his core a little in surprise. You let go and look at him with an innocent smile.

“Did you have a good day?” You asked.

“It was OK, better now.” He replies. You continue staring at him, almost in contemplation and, without blinking, kiss his cheek and move out of the room.

Alarms bells are ringing.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"There's something wrong." He confesses to them at drinks after work a couple days later. "She's angry."

"Your bonnie? She doesnae seem ta have a malicious bone in 'er. I'm sure it'll pass." Soap says.

Ghost grunts dismissively. "Never been this long."

Gaz hums in thought, "Did you forget a date?"

Ghost stays quiet but Gaz doesn't miss the confused stare. He clarifies, "Birds care about 'em. 1st anniversary, birthdays, the milestones. Can fall through the cracks if you're not careful though."

Ghost replies, "Maybe." In his mind, he's already running his fingers through their calendar.

Price cuts through, "Why not just ask 'er?" Straight to the point, as Ghost expected.

He leans back, "Rather not." Ghost knows he's hiding the real answer. What do I do if I can't fix it?

Price looks at him, assesses him and sees right through him. But before he can press further, Ghost hears his phone buzz. He pulls it out of his pocket and after reading the message from you, grumbles a quiet 'fuck' that draws the attention of his team. They lean over to catch a glimpse of the message.

The screen showed previous conversations between the lieutenant and his girl, you sending him your texts with smiley faces, hearts or emoticons with every message. That is, until your latest one which read:

Love: pick up bread on your way home.

The team winced at the cold tone.

"Good luck, mate."

"Warning ya, bakery closes earlier than usual today."

"You're fucked."

Ghost glares at them all before standing up and leaving.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The rest of the week had followed similarly with you just not acting like you're usual self.

That Friday it was your turn to pick a film to watch, where you would usually put on a cheesy rom-com or a tense-filled drama, that night it was a R18 horror movie. Ghost did not utter a single complaint when you put it on. Or move an inch when you lay your head on his chest and smiled at a scene where a cheating husband and his mistress get sliced in two.

Where you two would usually stay in bed together to bask the warm glow of a slow Sunday morning, instead, Simon woke alone. He called your phone again and again until you came home a couple hours later. You ignored his questions. Fearing the worst, he let it go.

And the bite of your finger nails into his skin got stronger and stronger every night as you two lay in bed. It was as is if you were clutching or branding onto him with all your might.

It was later that week, that Simon decided to was time to ask. Time to confront the dissonance that was ringing louder and louder in his ears whenever you touched him, looked at him and smiled at him.

He was going to do it. Right after dinner, he was going to do it.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Ghost, in fact, did nothing after dinner because as soon as you had gathered up the plates. You had returned with a cake.

You brought it to the table. “I know how much you love my desserts, Si. It's been forever since I've made one so I thought I would make your favourite today." You sit down before adding, "I've changed it up a bit, too. New ingredient and whatever.”

Ghost stills at that. “What’s the ingredient, darling?” He says as casually, as he could. Cyanide? Arsenic?

You smile sweetly at him, “It’s a surprise Si, where’s the fun in knowing before tasting it?”

“Right.” He replies, hesitantly.

You start cutting a slice, and place it on his plate before sitting down and waiting for him.

He takes the fork. "You're not hungry, love?"

You shake your head, "I want to see your reaction."

There's a moment where Ghost is trying to remember the poison hotline contact number so he could ring it after his 'taste test' but he finally breaks.

“Nope, can’t do this anymore.” He says.

“Can’t do what, Simon?” You asked with faux concern. You stand up and come to his side of the table to face him. “What’s wrong, baby? You're going to love it.”

“Did I forget an anniversary? Your birthday?” He thought aloud. He doubted it, but he must have done something wrong. He reaches for your arms and gently pulls you to stand in front of him, he holds your hands and bows his head before you. “Tell me love, have I been neglecting you? Spending too much time at work? You can tell me.”

You gently remove your hands from his hold, moving one hand to cup his cheek and the other to tilt his chin so he could meet your gaze. At first, he leans into the gentle palm of your hand but the cold look in your eye with that small smile of your lips makes him freeze.

“Don’t bullshit me, Riley.” Your voice cuts through the candlelit room. He has to fight to not let this do something to him. It gets worse when you use both of your hands to cup his jaw and force his head upwards to meet your gaze. “I found a second phone when I was sorting the laundry. There was a message from another woman. Asking if you would be coming over that night. What a greedy fucker you are.” He has to fight any sound that may escape from his lips at seeing you speak so harsh. “You listen to me, Simon.” His eyes widen as you close the distance of your face to his and your lips are so close. He wants to kiss you. “I will fucking kill her.”

Ghost had no idea what was happening, mind moving too fast and too slow all at once. All he could do was focus on his sweetheart's voice. You stand upright, move closer to Ghost, forcing him to spread his thighs so you can stand between them and press his face to your form, stroking the back of his head, his shoulders, his back as if to soothe and comfort. “I am yours. You made it so. And now, you are mine too."

He can't help the chills running down his spine as he laid his head against your body and felt the presses of your touch. You tell him, “All you need to do is give me her name and where I can find her. And after tonight, we can forget all about this, my love. If you work hard enough, I will forgive you. And in time, I will ask you what deficit I had to make you think you can replace me."

You sigh, "I gave you all week to confess, but you have no shame do you?"

Finally, Ghost's mind seems to catch up, "Wait, wait, sweetheart I don't have a second phone." At that, you tighten the hand in his hair, grabbing a good chunk of the back of his head. He whines at the sensation, "I swear, love." But you do not yield.

His mind is racing.

A second phone?

And finally, he realises. "Sweetheart, wait. It's Johnny's. He mentioned that he lost his phone, the idiot must've dropped in my gym bag. That's why you found it."

Your body stills. "Are you sure, Si?"

While you stay still, Ghost only wraps his arms around you, nestling his face against the warmth of your body and your hesitance. He pleads, "On my life. Call him, darling. Please."

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

A phone call later, you confirm that Soap indeed dropped his phone, and was seeing the woman you saw in the notifactions. With a sinking feeling, you return to the kitchen table.

"Si, I'm so sorry." You tell him, tears already brimming your water line. "I should've just asked you-" Before you can say another word, Ghost had already stood up and embraced you. You sink against him.

You should have never doubted a starving dog.

Ghost smiles as he releases you from his hold, "You still want dessert?" He looks back at the cake.

You only giggle, "Yes, let's eat. Not that one though." You ignore Ghost's questioning gaze as you walk to the fridge, humming a small tune, and then pull out another identitical cake. You set it on the table, smiling innocently as the blood drains from Ghost's face. "Let's eat, Si."

[teddybeartoji]

zombie apocalypse au where you end up in a settlement and meet a cutiepie satoru. he's lived almost his entire life there – sure, he goes on runs every once in a while but you've been out there. it's different.

right?

the dark bags under your eyes have yet to fade but satoru has never heard you complain. he knows everybody gets a talk when they first come to this place; where they can get help, who they can talk to when if they have any problems. if you can't sleep. or eat. or if you still feel restless. it's understandable that the change from having to fight for your life on a daily basis to not even having to carry a gun with you is hard.

the food tastes weird when you're not starving and drinking water seems like a complete waste when you're not dying of thirst. the bed you sleep on is too soft, the sheets feel like silk and it makes your skin itch. it's off-putting.

and yet, not a single complaint has left your lips. you observe your surroundings while handing out pretty little smiles like they're candy. you say thank you and goodbye, you offer to help out with the chores that weren't even yours to begin with and you're willing to entertain the kids with silly jokes. it's an almost perfect mask.

but you're tense; your eyes are always scanning your environment despite the fact that you've been at the settlement for almost a week now. you stretch your lips to show your gratitude, but satoru sees the way your fist tightens whenever the room is too crowded. the way you pocket smaller snacks when you think that nobody is looking. the way you flinch at a faraway sound of a child's laugh.

satoru finds you utterly intriguing.

people come and go, but you... there's something different about you.

maybe it's the dark, murky look in your eyes whenever you're handling a knife. carving a piece of meat like it's something you do every day; your eyes are the only things that change – you give a small smile to the lady working next to you as a thank you for whatever kind of advice she just gave you. she pats the steak while laughing and satoru doesn't miss the way your lips twitch.

you lick the remnants of the meat that stick to your fingers, the liquid that dribbles down the side of your hand the second she turns around. and satoru can't look away.

but there's no obvious malice.

it's interesting.

satoru is no detective, but he's done his fair share of people looking. what else is there to do when you're locked behind big walls; people are interesting, especially now that the world has ended. they tick faster, they explode bigger. they shiver more, they cry more. the lies have more consequences. it's hard to trust others, it's hard to trust anybody at this point. but satoru's eyes are keen, more so than anyone else's there.

you're not some caged beast, you're no dog on a leash, but you're an animal nonetheless. satoru just doesn't know which one yet. which of the living things that reside in the woods is calm enough to get so close to other people? confident enough. arrogant enough.

which one of them is as curious as you are? as sly? which one of them knows how to hide their sharp teeth behind a warm smile? satoru promises to himself that he'll figure it out, no matter what it takes.

or maybe the 'something' is the way you handle yourself when things go south. you didn't look away when a walker that managed to slip in through the gates sank his teeth into a man's neck. when everybody else was in shock, their eyes set on the gory sight in front of them – you were the first to grab the closest thing resembling a weapon and to deal with it.

blood splattered all over your clean clothes, your hair, your face. but you paid it no mind. this is what you're used to, this is what's normal. taking a knife to the poor wailing man laying on the ground was nothing special either. you kneeled down beside him and looked him in the eyes as you did it.

desperate hands reached out for you as fear settled in his stomach. he grabbed onto the collar of your shirt and pulled you closer, pleas stumbling from his lips like a waterfall. but to you, he was dead already. there's no remorse, there's no guilt. you're not a killer, you're a survivor.

satoru's mind raced as he watched you work while all the other had turned away, their sobs barely reaching his ears. no remorse, no guilt.

he just thought the blood looked beautiful on you.

but you're keen, too.

you try not to pay him too much attention, you try not to look but you feel his curious eyes wherever you go. you hear him laugh and you see his big smiles. he likes to play with the kids and he likes to tease his peers. he seems to know just about everybody, mingling in their lives by acting like a cupid or just indulging in gossip like some high schooler.

but something rotten sprouts deep inside him as well.

there's blood on his hands and you know it the second your gazes meet from across the big dining hall. the corners of his eyes crinkle and his dimples make a show as he gives you a grin, sharp teeth shining right at you. he knows you and you know him.

a survivor always recognizes a survivor.

[skywalkerslvt]

Cramped—Logan Howlett

❥Pairing: Logan Howlett x AFAB!Reader (no pronouns other than 'you' mentioned)

❥Summary: While on the run from enemies, Logan and reader find a temporary hideout; a cramped supply closet. Things ensue...

❥CW: 18+, smut, forced proximity, minor dry humping, fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it hoes), 2.2k words

❥a/n: god I'm such a fucking slut for this man. Hope u enjoy reading this highkey cliché fic as much as I enjoyed writing it (I had way too much fun writing this it's concerning) NOT PROOFREAD!!

The plan had seemed foolproof—until it wasn’t. What was meant to be a quiet infiltration erupted into gunfire and chaos, forcing you and Logan to improvise on the fly. You sprinted through the labyrinth of hallways, the sound of pounding footsteps and barked orders hot on your heels. Just when your lungs felt like they'd burst, Logan's hand shot out, gripping your arm and pulling you into a narrow doorway. Before you could react, he dragged you into a cramped, pitch-black closet, slamming the door behind you. His chest was flush against your back, one hand swiftly covering your mouth to stifle your gasps while the other was wrapped around your waist. The heat of his body pressed into you as his breath tickled your ear. "Quiet," he whispered, voice low and rough. "We can't outrun them. We're hiding here until they pass." The tight space, the sound of your heart pounding in your ears, and the intensity of his presence made it impossible to focus on anything else.

You could feel Logan's chest rising and falling against your back, the heat of his breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine despite the tension in the air. "Quiet, huh?" you muttered under your breath, shifting slightly against his hold. "This was your idea, remember? Charging headfirst into a whole squad of armed men?"

Logan’s grip tightened on your arm, his voice a low growl in your ear. “I didn’t hear you coming up with any better plans. Unless you count running in circles while getting shot at as a strategy.”

You rolled your eyes, even though you knew he couldn’t see it. “Maybe if you’d actually listened to me for once, we wouldn’t be hiding in a damn closet right now.”

Logan huffed, his breath warm against your ear. “Yeah, well, maybe if you weren’t so damn stubborn, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.” 

You opened your mouth to retort, but the sudden closeness of his body, the feel of his rough hand that had moved from your mouth to your collarbone, and his hot breath fanning against your neck stopped you short. The tension between you had always been there, simmering under the surface, but now, in this cramped, dark space, it felt like it might just boil over.

Blinking, you regained your composure. “Well, I-” you began, but were quickly cut off by his hand covering your mouth again, your words muffled against his flesh. 

“Someone's coming,” he breathed, his grip on you tightening as you were pulled impossibly closer against his body. Sure enough, footsteps sounded outside the door a few moments later. 

As the footsteps halted right outside the door, the tension between you and Logan grew almost unbearable. Your heart pounded wildly, not just from fear, but from the electric charge that seemed to crackle in the air between your bodies. Logan's chest pressed firmly against your back, his hand still covering your mouth. The warmth of his breath fanned against your neck, sending shivers down your spine despite the danger lurking just beyond the door.

You were hyper-aware of every point of contact–his solid body behind you, the rough texture of his hand on your skin, the way his breath hitched slightly as the person outside hesitated, listening.

Your senses were on overdrive, each second stretching out as your body reacted to Logan's closeness in ways you couldn't control.

It was wrong, wildly inappropriate given the situation, but the feel of his hard chest against your back, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, was doing things to you that you'd never admit out loud. You shifted slightly, trying to ease the tension in your muscles, but the movement only made things worse–or better, depending on how you looked at it.

Your slight wiggle caused your hips to brush against his in the confined space, and Logan's grip on you tightened, a low, almost imperceptible groan escaping him. The sound sent a thrill straight to your core, your breath catching in your throat as you realized what you'd just done. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against you, his "predicament" unmistakable in the dark, cramped closet.

Logan's fingers flexed against your waist, his breath coming faster, rougher against your ear. He didn't pull away, didn't loosen his grip, and for a moment, you were both frozen, caught in the tension of the moment, the thin line between danger and desire.

Your pulse raced, and the temptation to grind back against him, to push things just a little further, was almost overwhelming. The footsteps outside were retreating, but neither of you moved, the charged silence between you heavy with unspoken need.

Logan sighed, his head thrown back against the wall in shame. He cleared his throat, his grip on your waist loosening slightly. “Listen…I-” he cut himself off with a groan as you pushed your ass back against crotch, your desire for him pushing your fear of getting caught to the side. 

“Shh. Just–just shut up,” you whispered, eyes squeezing closed as you leaned your head back against his shoulder. 

Logan's breath hitched at the unexpected pressure, his body reacting instinctively to the friction. His hand tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer as he groaned low in your ear, his restraint slipping. You could feel the heat of him through his pants, hard and insistent against you, the tension between you igniting like a spark to dry tinder.

"Fuck, you're really playing with fire," Logan rasped, his voice strained, teetering between warning and desire.

But he didn't push you away. Instead, his fingers dug into your hip, his chest pressed so tightly against your back that you could feel the rapid beat of his heart matching your own.

The weight of your mutual attraction was heavy in the cramped space, the unspoken desire that had been simmering beneath the surface now threatening to consume you both. You could sense the hesitation in Logan's movements, the conflict between wanting to push you away and the undeniable need that had taken hold of him.

"Yeah, well," you breathed, your own voice shaky with both fear and excitement, "maybe I like the heat."

You felt Logan's lips brush against the shell of your ear, his fingers now trailing your waistband, his hot breath fanning across your skin as his resolve finally broke. “Tell me you don't want this. Tell me to stop,” he muttered, but the way his body pressed into yours, hard and unyielding, told you he wasn't planning on stopping anytime soon.

You shook your head, breathing out a soft “no,” and that was all Logan needed to hear. His hand made its way down the front of your pants, fingers rubbing slow circles on your clothed clit as he sloppily kissed and bit at your neck. 

A small, breathless moan escaped your lips, the sound muffled by the thick air in the cramped closet. Logan's reaction was immediate–his hand left your waistband and clamped over your mouth again, his lips now brushing against your ear as he whispered harshly, "You need to keep quiet, darlin. Or we'll both get caught, and this won't end the way either of us wants."

The combination of his roughened voice and the intoxicating closeness sent a shiver down your spine. The feel of his body so intimately pressed against yours, his hand possessively over your mouth, only fueled the fire building inside you. But the very real danger just outside the door added a sharp edge to your desire.

Logan's hand lingered on your mouth, as if he wasn't sure whether you'd manage to hold back the sounds threatening to spill from you, the tension in his grip telling you he was barely holding on himself. His hips pressed into yours, the heat between your bodies growing more intense by the second, and all you could think about was how badly you wanted him, consequences be damned.

Logan's fingers hovered at the waistband of your pants, his resolve hanging by a thread. You could feel his hesitation, the way his chest heaved against your back as if he were trying to convince himself to stop. But when your hips shifted back, pressing firmly against him, it shattered any remaining restraint.

His hand slipped beneath the fabric of your pants, his rough fingers sliding past your underwear and finding your slick heat. A choked sound rumbled in his chest as his fingers began to move, slow and deliberate, tracing soft circles that sent jolts of pleasure through your body. He pressed his lips against your neck, muffling his own groans as he worked you over, the rhythm of his fingers steadily increasing in pace.

You bit your lip hard, trying to keep quiet, but each twist of his fingers made it harder and harder to hold back the whimpers threatening to escape.

Logan's other hand remained firmly over your mouth, his breath ragged in your ear. He was losing control, his fingers moving faster, deeper, curling inside you with a hunger that matched your own.

"Fuck," he growled softly, the curse slipping past his lips as he felt you tightening around him, your body responding eagerly to his touch. He couldn't take it anymore. The sound of your muffled moans, the way you writhed against him–it was driving him insane.

Without warning, he withdrew his fingers, earning a frustrated whimper from you. But before you could protest, he spun you around, pressing your back against the rough wall of the closet. His eyes were dark, filled with a raw, unbridled need as he captured your lips in a bruising kiss, his hand already working at the buttons of your pants.

You broke the kiss just long enough to gasp for air, your hands fumbling with the buckle of his belt, desperate to feel him inside you. Logan groaned into your mouth, the sound low and primal, as he shoved your pants down just enough to give him access.

He pressed you harder against the wall, lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist as he freed himself from the confines of his pants. The feel of him, hot and hard against your thigh, made your head spin, and when he finally thrust into you, the sensation was overwhelming–an exquisite mix of pleasure and pain.

Logan's grip on your waist tightened, his forehead resting against yours as he began to move, each thrust rough and urgent, his hips slamming into yours with a rhythm that was desperate, almost frantic. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he drove into you, his breath hot and ragged against your ear.

"Fuck... you feel so good," he groaned, his voice barely a whisper, but the raw emotion behind it sent a thrill through your entire body. The tension between you, the weeks of pent-up frustration and unspoken desire, all came pouring out in the way he fucked you–hard, fast, and with a reckless abandon that left you breathless.

Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, your moans growing louder despite your best efforts to stay quiet. Logan's hand quickly covered your mouth again, his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist to keep you steady as he pounded into you. "Quiet," he rasped, though the quiver in his voice betrayed his own struggle to keep silent. "Can't let them hear how badly you want this. How badly you want me."

The filthy words pushed you over the edge. Your body tightened around him, pleasure crashing through you in waves, and Logan groaned loudly against your ear as he followed you over the edge, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside you.

For a moment, the world outside the closet ceased to exist, leaving only the sound of your ragged breaths and the aftershocks of your release. Logan kept his forehead pressed against yours, his chest heaving as he tried to regain control.

Finally, he pulled back slightly, his hand still resting on your waist as he looked into your eyes, the intensity in his gaze softened by the shared experience. "You alright?" he asked, his voice low and hoarse.

You nodded, still catching your breath, the weight of what just happened slowly sinking in. But there was no time to dwell on it–footsteps sounded in the distance, reminding you both that the danger was far from over.

Logan adjusted your clothes quickly, his hands surprisingly gentle despite what had just transpired. "We gotta move," he whispered, his tone back to business, though the lingering heat in his eyes told you that what had just happened was far from forgotten.

With one last, lingering look, Logan cracked the door open, peering out to make sure the coast was clear. Then, with a silent nod, he took your hand, leading you out of the closet and back into the chaos that awaited.

[lymtw]

Satoru who is just so obsessed with you and actually becomes somewhat jealous when others make you laugh to the point where you're blushing. He's quick to misunderstand a situation when it comes to men getting overly comfortable with you. From what you understand, the jealousy doesn't run deep, but he does wonder sometimes—stupidly, if someone else will catch your eye and test your fidelity to him.

"How is it being with Gojo all the time? I get seeing him at work, but going home with him and spending all your time together...? It's got to be exhausting, no?"

This nobody doesn't even know Satoru. He's never gotten near him—never even spoken a word to him. It's infuriating that he even assumed you're exhausted from spending time with the person you the love the most, but you smile anyway, and respond as politely as you can.

"Satoru can be a handful at times, but that's one of the many things I love about him. He's funny, and even though sometimes he acts like he runs around without a brain, he is one of the smartest men I know. He takes care of me." You chuckle, recalling a warm, fond memory.

Satoru watches your conversation with the man from the bar on the other side of the room. He sees you smiling and nodding, and his heart starts beating faster. He understands that he has to keep his cool. What is he missing that you can find in someone else? You're with him for a reason, and you've never been one to hide things from him. There's no need to feel insecure.

He knows he can't stop you from talking with other people. You can interact with whoever you want because his jealousy isn't to be mistaken with control, but it's hard not to stay by your side all the time. You've never given him any reason to doubt the strength of your relationship, but he just doesn't trust other men around you. He knows men are dogs, chopping it up with any pretty girl with no regards to whether they're in a relationship or not. What he does know is that he wholeheartedly trusts you. You would let him know if someone was taking it too far, wouldn't you?

VS

Satoru who is so obsessed with you and content with the fact that you are almost always within arms reach of him. He feels so secure knowing he gets to leave work with you every day only to spend more time with you at home.

At night, you lay facing each other, one of your legs thrown over his hip and one of his hands running up and down your waist. You talk about insignificant things that result in significant memories. You whisper and giggle about the dumbest things, until your sentences don't make sense because of how tired both of you are. You cling onto him and tell him you love him, lazy kisses pressed to his lips with every cliffhanging word that is threatened by sleep.

On lazy Sunday afternoons, you lie in bed together watching scary movies. He knows the plots aren't real, and that the monsters and hideous things that appear aren't real either, but your fear of them is. He purposely chooses these movies because he knows you won't focus on them and turn to give him all the attention when you're too scared. Anything to distract you from the terrifying things that are seemingly about to pop out of the screen. While he pretends he's focusing on the movie, he grins as you begin to shower him with your affectionate kisses. One for his neck, one for his cheek, oh... there goes another one for his neck. He lays there, a few chuckles slipping when you kiss his chin and his nose. You mumble little sweet nothings to him that have him grinning ear to ear. He can physically feel the love you hold for him and it's heavenly.

Satoru loves that you've always been shy about your needs. He loves the way you react when he kisses you anywhere that isn't your face. He knows neck kisses are a weakness for you and he uses that knowledge against you when he wants to see you get flustered.

He'll come up behind you, put his hands on your waist and start kissing your shoulder, slowly trailing the sweetness towards your neck. He knows he's affecting you because after a minute of him mouthing up your sensitive points, you stopped what you were doing and just felt him. His hands peel your shirt off your stomach and glide upward, towards your chest. He can hear your shaky breathing more clearly.

"'toru?" You call, meekly, your hands clenched into fists.

"Hm?" He gives your breasts a squeeze, not letting up on his work on your neck.

"Satoru," you repeat, clear surrender in your tone. You use his full first name to grab his attention, yet it still sounded so sweet.

"You can do it, baby. Tell me what you want."

You get so nervous when he starts talking like this. It makes your chest feel tight, and your stomach swarms with butterflies. You want to run away, but his hands are so warm and he's holding you like you're the most fragile thing to ever exist.

You turn around and quickly bury your face in his chest. Satoru caught a glimpse of the rosiness dusting your cheeks, and the tips of your ears were noticeably glowing, the cute reactions earning a chuckle from him. His hands dragged down your back, and he palmed your ass before going slightly lower to clasp around the backs of your thighs. He lifted you, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

"My pretty girl is so shy. Don't worry, I know what you like," he says, directing both of you to the bedroom.