#like you have the SAT but it's not the main or only thing

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Bug

In which Faelithil, Adar's mortal lover accidentally adopts a newborn uruk.

Adar's attention was drawn away from the fireplace by the sound of someone entering his home, turning and seeing his lover standing by the entryway. Upon the sight he was at her side to take what she held from her so she could rid herself of her cloak and muddy boots.

"My moon," Adar stepped back from Ithil, dropping his arms to his side and taking in the sight before him to ensure he was not seeing things.

"I thought we had discussed bringing work home? Especially this far info your pregnancy." There was didappointment in his tone.

It was true, Adar had asked to leave work at work. At most discuss it over dinner but the need to rest was one both of them had.

"Oh but Adar, he was born only this morning. His mother didn't make it and he wouldn't stop crying unless he was in my arms." She cooed at the little boy and smiled at his soft babbling. "I thought I'd do the motherlikes a favor by taking him with me." The mortal felt for the child, he was barely a day old and had no one.

Adar sighed deeply, but still a smile krept onto his face. "Dear, have tou made it clear to the others you only took him for the night?" He put emphasis on her own words. "N.. no, I don't think I did.. They didn't ask." She thought back at her leaving and the exact words spoken, but she couldn't recall with the fussing babe in her arms.

"Then, I believe you have adopted him. Intentionally or not, it is what you have done by bringing him into our home."

This time it was Ithil's turn to take a moment to take in the situation. Had she really?

"Have you named him? Out loud, I mean." A shake of her head told him no, and a quiet sigh of relief left Adar's body.

"Good, don't name him or he is yours by uruk law. He may stay for the night. Tomorrow morning we will go see the motherlikes and discuss this properly." Adar sighed once more with a smile. Of all the ways she could have misunderstood his culture, this was where she ended up.

"Come, hand him to me so you can change." His voice was as gentle as his actions of taking the child from her arms and handling him like it was second nature. The sight had her all flushed and quickly she disappeared into the bedroom.

Faelithil had seen many things in her months of living with the uruk, but the sight of Adar so gently handling a newborn was new and affected her in a way that most certainly would have led to her begging him for a child if she wasn't already carrying one.

Changing into easier sleep clothes took a while without Adar's assistance, but she managed and waddled back into the home's main area where she pauzed at the sight before her.

Adar laid played out on the furs he kept, his fingers wiggling above the babe resting on his chest and grabbing at them. But that was only part of why she had stopped dead in her tracks. She kept quiet and listened.

"You are going to give your mother such a hard time in her last weeks, I suppose I will have to stay home from now on to care for you, little bug." Adar rambled softly to the urukling on his chest, that happily Buh'd back at him.

"Yes, bug. Do you like that word? Bug."

"Buh!"

"Bug it is, then. As you wish."

Ithil had a hard time holding back the smile that started to hurt her cheeks as she made her way over to her lover and slowly but surely made her way down onto the pile of furs.

"It seems we won't be returning to the motherlikes tomorrow, are we?" Adar had sat up again to give her the space she needed and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"I believe uruk young choose their new parents, not the other way around. When he stopped crying in your arms it meant he wished to stay with you, so who am I to deny him a family." The ancient uruk in this moment showed why he was named Adar all those ages ago, and the mortal could not have wished for a better father for her children.

[eden-writes-stuff]

@loveableprob

first of all, so sorry it took so long. I was about to give this up due to lack of ideas until I rewatched Gilmore girls, because Luke and Lorelai are so wolfstar coded. Secondly, I know it turned out a little differently than your exact original ask, but I tried to keep the main situation and circumstances and I really liked how this turned out and I hope that is okay and that you like it anyways (if not, please dm me)

Sorry for rambling

Wordcount: 427

Tags: Sirius rambles, fluff, light angst, shy Remus, gay Remus, Sirius is clueless about his sexuality

"Moons?" "Hm?" Remus didn't look up from his book as Sirius lay beside him on his bed.

"How come you don't date?" "I've never dated", he murmured, hoping to end the conversation quickly.

"Yeah, but that's just it. You're hot. I mean, at least all the girls say so. I'm sure you could land with a couple of them. I could give you advice if you want to. You know, how to approach them, what you could do on dates, how to kiss, and all that." Remus hummed, eyes fixed on his book.

 Since when did Sirius care about who he went out with? The only time a girl actually tried to flirt with Remus, Sirius made fun of her until she ran away crying. Not that Remus cared. Girls never really caught his eye, but how was he supposed to explain that to Sirius - or anyone for that matter.

"Is it your... monthly problem? Because I'm sure if someone just likes you enough they can see behind that. I mean, we all did, so why wouldn't your girlfriend? You will need to watch out who you tell it to, but we can help you with covering things up." Remus just shook his head. He really wasn't in the mood for this.

"Or is there someone specific you like?" Sirius sat up a bit. "An impossible romance! Written by fate! Destined to be together, but always held apart! It's not Evans, is it? James would kill you and I have promised him to help him hide a body if he ever needed it. But if it's anyone else I can arrange something for you. I'm great at talking you up. I'll be all like: 'Have you met Remus? He is really sweet to girls. He also has super soft hands and can always help you study no matter what subject. His hair always smells good," Remus raised an eyebrow at that, "and aren't these scars just too hot?! I mean, talking about badboy... He also has really comfy sweaters that you can steal and he will lend you his scarf when it's cold outside, even though he hates being cold.'" 

He paused and looked up at Remus, who was still staring at his book, desperately trying not to think too much of this. "'He's not the best listener though'", Sirius muttered, sitting up in his friend's bed. "So yeah, if you need help, you know where to find me." With that he left, closing the dormroomdoor behind him, leaving Remus with a heavy ache in his chest.

[lemotmo]

okay here we go...

... I have sooooo many asks in my ask box with anons being really disappointed in the episode. It's impossible to answer each and every one of you guys. I would be answering questions until next Thursday. 😆

So I've decided to make a general post answering or addressing some of the topics you brought up in your asks.

About half of the asks was about 'copaganda' in the episode. I have to admit that this never even crossed my mind while watching, up until I started reading some asks.

As you all know, I am not American and the country I live in has a very different stance toward the police. But this is also because our police force seems to be very different from the American one. People here have to go to school for a long time to even be able to graduate as a police officer. There are very strict psychological tests as well.

The patrol officers that walk on the street also don't carry around guns of any kind. Quite often they ride around in my city by bike instead of by car. They are taught that 'violence' is always the last step. The first step is always trying to solve a situation peacefully.

When the police stops me for some reason, I don't have any kind of fear reaction. This isn't something I feel I should be concerned about in my daily life.

So yeah, while watching American TV-shows, I often just don't think about 'copaganda' unless it's really spelled out to me. It just doesn't cross my mind. Not in the way it would cross the mind of the American viewers. So I don't really mention it all that much. Next to that, I don't feel like I'm qualified to talk about this topic all that much, since I'm not a US citizen.

So, I'm just going to move on to the second half of the asks in my ask box. I feel more comfortable talking about this subject.

So the other half was mostly people sad that there wasn't enough Eddie or progress in his storyline. Or too much focus on Brad and Gerrard and not enough on the mains. Still no Chris!

And I get it. I do. There were a lot of things that could have been handled so much better, but the episode we ended up with? Well, like I said in my episode review: I liked it. It was filler, yes. But good filler. It set up new storylines and, while not very visible, it continued the existing storylines as well.

I loved seeing Buck stress-bake and gradually getting over Tommy. I love his family and friends all working together to make sure he didn't call Tommy. I loved the Maddie quote about the universe sending a special person (aka Eddie 😁). I liked the pregnancy reveal scene and the hug!🥰 I liked the Bobby hotshots storyline and the way the 118 banded together like a family again. Such great scenes.

I looooooved seeing Eddie happy and carefree again. Yes, I agree, Eddie needs to address the Chris of it all, but just let him be free for a while longer. Let him find himself first. He needs this. That being said, I do think next episode will end with him flying off to Texas to get his son back and he'll be there during hiatus, figuring himself out. When he gets back in the beginning of 8b is when his story truly begins. Though I still think we might get some kind of clue next week to tie us all over to 8b.

The only thing I didn't like was the Gerrard redemption arc. It was the wrong choice to make in my opinion, but now we're stuck with it, so I'm trying to see past that storyline for now.

I'm intrigued for next week. That call with the water and those people drowning? Another call back to Buddie's greatest NDEs hits. A talk between Brad and Eddie? Could this be about Chris? A non-cliffhanger 'cliffhanger' of some kind?

Yeah, I'm sat. I admit it. I liked what we got and I'm looking forward to next week's episode.

Nonnies, please know that I have read all your opinions and concerns about this episode and it's all very valid. They are your opinions and they matter just as much. No judgement here whatsoever.

The above is just my personal opinion. That's all. 🤷‍♀️

[bomberqueen17]

how the writing is going

Ok so. LOL. About the only thing I am effectively achieving this week *is* writing, and even that is not really..... I don't have a draft. But I have a whole bunch of sample snippets I've written to try and feel my way through the worldbuilding and discover the sorts of things the characters are likely to be preoccupied with, which is often how I figure out what a plot should be.

The next thing I thought about after dolphins was modes of transport besides sailing ships.

So this is a fairly high-tech society, but they do not have fossil fuels, and they don't have a large-scale power grid. I decided that for aesthetics, but as I'm unpicking my plot, I'm realizing that it makes sense. See, the main driver for all my plot devices is that there's a lot of sun activity-- sunspots, coronal mass ejections, magnetic field anomalies, that sort of shit. A power grid could not survive on a large scale. So all power generation is done in small, local installations-- some very local indeed, panels on rooftops, little waterwheels, tiny wind turbines. Industrial-scale power is generated in hydro plants and used right at the site for hydro-powered manufacturing-- much of it direct hydro-power, not converted to electricity. Just direct drive waterwheel shit. Because the sun can throw whatever shit it wants at the planet and your waterwheel won't notice or care.

That said. Communication over long ranges does pose a significant challenge. You're going to need line-of-sight semaphores and shit, which I had not worldbuilt in the earlier versions but absolutely could add in.

There should be trains, and I haven't really pondered those yet because I need to know more about my geography. Please, god, don't make me draw a map, but I'm gonna have to. Oh well.

But the other thing I thought of and got really excited about was

DIRIGIBLES

It's feasible with technology we currently have, and this is a thing that some large companies are pursuing, to make very large, hydrogen-filled, entirely solar-powered dirigibles for long-distance cargo transportation, faster than ships, the same speed as trucks/trains but more direct, slower than airplanes but INFINITELY lower carbon footprint. And hydrogen is outlawed by the FAA as a lifting gas, not because of the Hindenberg (which had many contributing factors) but because of a Congressional hearing which was presented by the helium lobby in the 20s. Hmmmmm.

A fascinating detail is that you could make a solar-powered lighter-than-air craft operate day and night seamlessly by having a power generation process where some of the day's collected solar energy directly powers the thing, and some of it goes toward... I forget the details but it powers a chemical reaction that, come nightfall, is simply set to reverse itself, which will then release most of the energy that it took to power the reaction in the first place, which you can now use to power your aircraft. Which is not a thing I knew about and I now have to research how that would work because, fascinating.

Anyway. In Fantasy World, there are totally dirigibles, and they're also probably operated by the Navy, and the water-ship sailors fucking hate them, LOL. This will be a wildly entertaining dynamic and I am rubbing my little paws together.

Also.

While feeling sort of brain-dead and stupid, I got a sheet of paper, went through a bunch of lists of historic names and lists of like, suggested baby names from various ethnicities, and I just made lists on this sheet of paper of men's names, women's names, arguably gender-neutral names, and then a huge pile of surnames, and then I sat down with a bullet-pointed list cribbed from the website of the museum of the USS Constitution of all the personnel that would be on a 44-gun frigate ca. 1812, and I first pondered each of the jobs, added some, took some away, came up with my own numbers of how many guys I needed, and then I just sat there and combined the first and last names in aesthetically pleasing ways to generate characters, lightly crossing out ones I'd used. (and sometimes googling them to make sure they're not somebody famous or something, which i always recommend with fictional character creation, especially if you're as oblivious as I am.)

I was unable to resist also coming up with some backstories-- siblings, little work histories, criminal pasts, notable traits, that sort of thing-- for many of the characters.

I did not make up names for every individual person on this ship, which I decided should have a crew of about 150-180, but I made up some names for every position, and considered age and gender as well for all of them.

I will not use many of the characters I've created this way, I'm sure, but the ones with interrelationships will totally somehow get used, and this way as I'm writing if I need a character I can find them already made, and if that person has a defined role, I already know which one and won't lose track of them.

This also got me to consider why people wind up in the jobs they do in this society, what drives them to seek out certain things, and that gave me a lot of background as to what's going on onshore.

I should try to find a list of a dirigible's crew and think about them, too, and build out the train people and routes and whatnot.

I also bought a used older edition on Thriftbooks of The Annapolis Book Of Seamanship and have been reading that with... more interest than I expected actually. I have the 1983 edition and it has a really moving little plea to let the women on your ship also learn to sail because it is foolish to relegate them to the kitchen when if only they were taught how it works, they could save you all in an emergency. LOL I wonder if that's worded differently in the updated new version or not.

[written-in-flowers]

Lovesick: Chan x Male!Reader Pt. 5

Pairing: Bang Chan x Male!Reader | Side pairings: Minho x Chan, Minho x Male!Reader (unrequited)

Word Count: 7k

Genre: Horror, Angst, Smut | AU: Yandere!au, Videogame!AU, Highschool!AU

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Summary: After being sucked into the dating simulator "Lovesick", Park YN has to defeat five rivals to reach his goal. However, he soon learns his rivals aren't the only thing he must contend with for Chan's love.

Tags: Graphic depictions of violence, Main Character Death, dark fic, dead dove: do not eat, yandere behaviors, yandere!reader, stalking, murder/violence, blood and violence, toxic relationships, mentions of murder, unrequited love, mentions of domestic violence, school massacre/genocide, implied teacher/student relationship, homophobic parents, mentions of bullying/trauma, obsession, possessiveness, manipulation, high school setting, anal sex, anal fingering, edging, eventual smut, pool sex, locker room sex, blowjobs, choking.

A/N: PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE READING! I'm not responsible for any feelings you end up having because you ignored this warning and the ones above.

Han Jisung: Wednesday < | > Seo Changbin: Tuesday

****

Seo Changbin: Monday

The first thing you noticed the next day was your uniform. Alongside the flower and swimming pins was a computer and a white gold maple tree. You wondered how that happened, but it didn’t take long to figure it out. You stared around the room as if Minho would pop out to explain it all. Instead, your phone vibrated on the side table. 

“Morning, handsome. Changbin’s on the agenda today. Get to the gate asap.”

“What’s up with these new pins?”

“What new pins?”

“Yeah, I got a little computer and a white gold tree like yours,” you said, examining the two pins on your lapel. “I don’t know how they got there. Was this you?”

You saw the chat bubble come and go before the answer came: “Yeah, totally! I totally did that, yeah….I thought being part of the Student Council will help you get out of trouble with teachers, and the computer club allows you to hack the school’s database.”

“Oh, um, cool. Thanks.” 

The sudden boost of helpfulness struck you as odd, but not completely. You saw this as a good thing; having Minho on your side certainly helps things in the long run. Even if it meant dealing with the occasional flirtation. Passing through the bedroom portal to the school gate, you arrived at the crowded entrance. Everyone was chattering and meeting up with friends to walk inside, much different from before. You put Minho in the back of your mind, and focused on the mission. 

Rumors about Jisung’s disappearance had spread like wildfire. Police officers arrived to question teachers and students, though Minho assured they’d find nothing linking you to Jisung. By lunch time, the police interviewed half the student body, and theories flew left and right. Was Jisung indeed murdered by a mafia boss? Was he kidnapped by a perverted sex trafficker? Was he having an affair with an older man and they’d finally run away to a new country? Having no physical evidence or suspects, the police declared Jisung as a missing person. You preferred the wild stories over the truth. You thought about the newest rumor when someone blocked your way. 

“Morning, YN-hyung!” Jeongin appeared in front of you with another tray. This time it was egg bread. The sweet, steamy treats sat in uniform rows, and you automatically searched for a message. “We made egg bread in the Cooking Club today. Want one? It’s not good to start the day on an empty stomach.” He directed his eyes to the row right under him without moving his head. 

You took the middle one and underneath you saw he’d drawn the swimming team logo on the tray. Your eyes met his, and you felt compelled to ask him what was going on. Taking a bite of the fluffy treat, you nodded. 

“What do you think?” he asked sweetly, thin eyes crinkling in the corners. 

“Delicious as always, Jeongin-ssi,” you said. “What other clubs are you in, by the way? I think you’d be good for the swimming club.”

Jeongin paused, then said, “Oh, I’m not much of a swimmer, but you know who I admire? Seo Changbin. He’s very dedicated to his athletics. I always see him going into the swimming pool building before classes. I wish I could be as dedicated.” 

“Hm, me too,” you said. “See you around, Jeongin-ssi.”

“See you around, hyung!”

Honestly, you did not know how to feel about Jeongin. The Cooking Club member seemed to have a certain self-awareness that nobody else had. You wondered if this might be a result of your configurations to the game. Minho mentioned there being other players before you who’d lost the game. They might have become NPC characters or simply vanished into the ether. Jeongin’s constant cryptic warnings and guidance made you want to corner and confront him. But, the secrecy might be another clue: someone is watching. 

You decided to take up Jeongin’s lead. Students aren’t allowed in the pool building before classes, yet Changbin is somehow getting in? It couldn’t be for extra practice time. You thought of Changbin’s special secret, and what it could be. You saw Changbin texting on his phone as he walked up to the school steps. This phone was more modern, with a superhero case around it rather than the plain black phone from yesterday. Changbin had two phones. One for friends and one for…drugs? That seemed the only explanation. You followed Changbin up the steps of the school where his friends waited for him. You kept himself a good distance away as the younger student went inside first.

“Chan!” 

You narrowed your eyes when you spotted Changbin approaching Chan, who’d been putting books into his locker. You kept to the water fountain as the two began talking. Changbin handed him a manga from his bookbag, and the two started to talk about it. Loving manga and anime was Changbin and Chan’s shared interest apart from swimming. It was a good move. Perhaps Changbin was not the dumb jock after all. Chan took the book kindly, flipping through the pages as Changbin talked. Surely, he only humored Changbin. He couldn’t possibly consider reading it. You waited until Changbin walked away to move onward. 

Moving past your locker through the hallway, you kept your eyes on Changbin. You tailed him towards the Home Economics room where students prepared meals for the day. You watched him pull out ingredients from his bag as he assured his friends he’d meet up with them later. You stayed by the doors, seeing Changbin through the wide windows and expecting a long wait. However, once his friends were down the hall and out of sight, Changbin immediately began repacking. You noted the haste in which he did it; quickly shoving the fruits and protein powder back into the duffle bag. Changbin took up the black phone this time, typing a message and waiting for a response. He looked excited, hiding his smile and blushing cheeks. Changbin might have a drug addiction he hoped to fix. He might have a dealer who sells him steroids for his athletic body. Perhaps a relationship with another student. Whatever it was, it made him happy. 

Changbin left the room quickly. A man on the move. Adrenaline pumped in your veins as you continued stalking him. The boy had a pep in his step, his delight making him giddier than a schoolgirl. You followed him from the school building towards the locker rooms. It made a good place to meet a dealer before school, hardly anyone was there in the mornings. Yet, as Changbin walked towards the girls’ locker room, you thought perhaps he might be a pervert. Maybe Jeongin had his information wrong and Changbin doesn’t go to the swimming pool. He goes to the girls’ locker room and sneaks dirty photos of them. It’d make for good blackmail material. You hid in the bushes along the walls of the building, expecting Changbin to sneak inside. But, he walked right past it into the indoor pool. 

Okay, so Jeongin’s information was correct. 

The indoor pool building had its own bathroom for swimmers. Did he meet his dealer there? It was ideal considering the lack of people around the area in the morning, but how did he get inside? The school kept it locked before and during class time. You received your answer when Changbin knocked on the back door.

Then, it opened. You didn’t see who opened the door, but you saw their hand. White with long red nails, Changbin must be meeting a girl. But, Changbin had a crush on Chan. Sure, he could like boys and girls; it was a possibility, but the game never indicated that before. Who was she? The dealer could easily be a woman. You waited until Changbin disappeared behind the door to move. Sprinting across the secluded alley, you tried the knob gently to avoid detection. It was locked. You kicked the door hard. The day you leave the lockpick behind is the day you need it. You jiggled the knob a few times, hoping by some miraculous intervention it’d open, but nothing happened. Suddenly, the metal door felt more solid and impenetrable than before. You’d been walking back to the bushes, deciding to wait on Changbin and his dealer outside when you heard it. 

Click!

You turned around to see the pool door unlock and swung open. Intuition told you that something made it open. Doors that open by themselves are typically warning signs. Cautiously, you walked to the door, and considered texting Minho to see if he’d done it, but the guide claimed to have no control over the happenings in the game. If not him, then who or what? Time was short. You went through the open door and scanned the empty pool area. The bathrooms made the most sense. You tiptoed across the tiled floors to the two, peeking into the womens’ first to see no Changbin, then into the mens. 

In the handicap stall, you saw two sets of feet. One was Changbin’s tennis shoes, and the other a pair of black heels. They stood dangerously close, the woman’s legs in between both of Changbin’s. The soft smacking sounds of kissing and low moans broke the silence of the building. You went through the room slowly, keeping your steps quiet as you went into the adjacent stall. Knees drawn up to your chin on the toilet, you turned on the phone’s recording app, and listened: 

“-You said you wanted to see me,” you heard the woman say. “Is there something wrong?”

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” Changbin said, a nervous edge to his voice.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“I…I think we should stop seeing each other.”

You heard the long pause on the woman’s end. “What? Why?” she asked, affronted. “Do you not love me anymore?”

“Yes, I do love you, Sohee,” he pleaded, “But I don’t like this.”

“Like what?”

“Sneaking around,” he said. “I love you and I want people to know that I love you. We’ve spent ages hiding out here or going outside of town to that crappy little motel you found. We always have to make sure to delete our messages off the burner phones, and when we’re at school, I have to pretend as if I’m not crazy in love with you. I sit around imagining you with your husband at home, while I’m wishing I could hold you every night. Sohee, I love you, and I wished people knew that.”

“You know how stupid that would be, right? I’m a teacher, Changbin. If anyone ever discovered us, I’d lose everything. I’d lose my job, my family, my husband…my freedom.” Her voice suddenly turned from angry to sultry, “And you don’t want that for me, do you? If I’m behind bars, we’d never see each other again. We’d never kiss and touch, and you’d lose me.”

“Which is why we should end this,” he reasoned with her.

She did not respond right away. You imagined her finding ways around his reasoning without giving him too much hope. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

“What? No, not at all.”

“It’s that Bahng boy,” she accused. “You’re cheating on me with him, aren’t you? I should’ve known better. I should’ve known better than to be with a boy who hangs around his friends too much.”

“It’s not Chan.”

How dare he...

“How dare you,” she said, “How dare you think I’m so blind. I see how you look at him. I see how you’re always eager to talk to him and share those stupid comic books with him.” She sniffled, “I thought you loved me, Changbin, but I guess I was wrong.”

“I do love you,” he insisted again. “I love you, but I’m tired of keeping secrets. I want to be with you, but I’m tired of hiding it.”

“We’re only hiding it because some people in the world might not understand. To them, what we have is wrong, but it doesn’t feel that way when I’m with you.”

Not exactly those three words Changbin wanted, but it didn’t matter after she kissed him. The soft pecking turned into deeper, lingering kisses by the sounds of lip smacking. The rustling of clothes soon followed, hungry whimpers and needy moans joining in. You lifted your phone to the top of the wall for better sound. Everything needed to be recorded to have strong evidence. White fingers clutched the wall and soon the sound of skin hitting skin mingled with the low moaning. Changbin whispered his apologies in between huffs and grunts. His lover said nothing except moaned in blissful pleasure. It did not last long, though, which you supposed was due to the time limit. When they finished, Changbin spoke first. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, panting as zipping himself up, “But I still think we should end it.”

You almost laughed. He bangs the woman, and then still breaks up with her. She did not react to this well.

“Really? After everything I’ve done for you, everything I’ve risked to be with you? Ugh, you little prick. I should’ve known what you were after we first fucked.” You heard her zip something, likely a skirt, before opening the stall door, “A damn fairy.”

“Sohee” Changbin breathed, “Wait-”

“-You better start working on your grades, because the principal is about to hear all about the cheating and plagiarism you’ve performed in my classes.”

“No, you can’t do that.”

“Why not? You don’t care for my feelings, why should I care for yours?”

“Because I’ll lose my scholarships. I might even get expelled.”

“Good. You deserve it.”

You clasped a hand over your mouth, not daring to breathe out your silent laughter. She’s harsh, you’d give her that. Changbin, you decided, could not be trusted with Chan’s tender heart. Not only would he continue seeing the teacher behind Chan’s back, but he’d do to him what he did to her: sleep with him and then dump him. He claims to love Chan, yet is messing around with a teacher. Chan is too gentle to handle such heartbreak. You’d thought of letting Sohee ruin Changbin through his grades, but that would take too long. What if Sohee then sets her sights on another boy? What if she preys upon sweet, innocent Chan who won’t know what to do? It made your blood boil. You pictured the sultry, seductive teacher putting her hands on Chan, kissing and fondling him like the pervert she was. She needed to go down with her boyfriend before she hurt Chan too. Before they both hurt your Channie. 

“Sohee, please, wait,” Changbin pleaded again, and you heard her move a few steps before stopping, “I was wrong. I’m sorry. You’re right; you’ve sacrificed a lot to be with me and I was selfish for wanting to end things.”

Damnit.

“Hm,” she said thoughtfully, “I suppose I could forgive you. We’ll talk after school in my car.”

You’d beat the woman right now, if you could. The couple kissed and made up before leaving the bathroom. You only uncurled yourself when the pool door closed with an echoing slam. If Sohee won’t turn on Changbin, then you’d burn them both. The most obvious angle came as you left the building: show the school counselor what you recorded. Blackmailing Changbin into not liking Chan is pointless, since it only works if the person is giving up something important to them. Chan clearly means nothing to Changbin, who has been sneaking around with a teacher. He doesn’t truly love Chan. He doesn’t care about him enough to break off a toxic, inappropriate relationship with a teacher. Why love someone from afar when it’s possible to be with a person who isn’t? 

“Hey, where are you? I miss you,” Minho’s message came with a sad face emoji after. 

“I just found out Changbin’s secret. He’s banging some teacher named Sohee,” you replied. “Are there any teachers here by that name?” 

“Yoon Sohee. She’s a 10th grade teacher. She’s new this year, and is pretty popular with the boys.”

“I bet. Any chance the guidance counselor will buy my story?”

“If you have the proof.”

“I do.” 

“Great, then you can go during lunch. Come to the garden, I got you food.” 

You headed to the courtyard, sunny and green as always, and found Minho sitting underneath one of the trees. He handed you a canned coffee and a pastry, which you dug into right away. Right after, you looked at Chan’s usual spot in the garden. He sat near the strawberries, distracted by his phone and eating an apple. A sense of content came over you watching your beloved. Once you finish the game, Chan won’t be lonely ever again. You’d make sure you were always around, eager to accompany and take care of his needs. You’ll make it happen somehow.

“What have you been doing this morning?” You asked, taking another sip of coffee.

“Nothing particularly exciting,” he sighed. “I did my patrol around the halls, pretending to care if someone is offing the kids around here, while waiting on you.” He put his hand on your thigh casually, neither squeezing nor rubbing. You ignored the touch by drinking more coffee. “The teachers are urging us to enforce safety rules. They’re convinced Kitae and Jisung were taken from the school, but I honestly think they’re worried about what the parents think.” 

“Is anyone actually listening though?”

“Nobody important,” he said, drinking his own coffee. “They weren’t particularly popular students, so people aren’t a hundred-percent concerned. There’s also no proof their disappearances happened here, so nobody’s worried beyond teachers.” He continued casually watching Chan while he drank. “You plan to expose them, then?”

“Makes the most sense,” you shrugged. “Why? Are you gonna suggest I just stab him and hide the body?”

“I was going to suggest poisoning his smoothie again,” Minho said, “He’d make it around lunch time since he skipped breakfast. But you have your heart set on doing it the boring way.”

“A death on school grounds would definitely bring police attention,” you replied. “This way is much more fun.” 

Minho chuckled quietly, “You’re too cute. Well, when your idea inevitably fails, I know they have chemicals up in the science lab that can create a pretty decent poison.” 

"I can't kill them all, hyung." 

"Why not? Other people do it all the time. It's fun," he smiled before taking a drink. "You'll get through the game quicker to be sure."

"Murder is so boring and such an obvious choice. Also, is it really that fun if I have to clean it up afterwards?" 

"It can be..." he slid closer to you and moved hand further up your thigh, "When you have someone special to help." 

You should’ve seen it coming. "Minho..."

"Yes, love?" 

Your skin prickled with goosebumps, and you shifted from Minho. "Minho-hyung, I'm sorry but I'm not interested in you like that."

"You could be," he said, slightly hurt when you pulled away. 

“I thought you loved Chan though.”

He paused, and suddenly pulled away. You immediately noticed the lust inside him fade away into sadness. 

“I did,” he said, “I used to. A part of me still does, I guess. That Chan over there,” he pointed at him, “Is not the Chan I loved. The Chan I loved was tough and rough. He liked punk rock music, had red in his hair, and tattoos on his arms. Whenever I looked at him, my heart fluttered and I felt whole. The world had felt so empty and colorless before I’d met him; I thought I’d met my soulmate. When he died, I created Chan in the game so I could keep a piece of him. Playing the game, I caught glimpses of my Chan in him. 

“But, the investors said my Chan was too alternative for users. I was forced to make a soft boy who likes manga and plants. I was forced to take the piece of him I’d made and turn him into something else.” He turned his face away from you, “I put up with Lovesick’s Chan because having a fake version was better than having nothing at all. He’s nice to screw after the game, but it’s not enough. He doesn’t make me feel what the real world Chan once did.” 

You stopped eating. The suspicion you carried around with you suddenly turned its ugly head. “You’d said Chan was a guy in the class”

Minho hesitated, then said, “He was.”

“You said you made him in the game because you couldn’t have him in the real world.”

“In a way, yeah.”

“You also said he was the one who told you to take him out of the game, not investors. You never said he'd died either.” The pieces clicked together in your head, and you glared at him.

He turned back to you. By the hesitancy in his eyes, he knew you’d caught him. “It’s hard to talk about. I told you that story because it’s easier than telling the truth.”

Anger simmered inside your chest. You shouldn’t have been so surprised Minho lied, but it hurt nevertheless. “You lied to me.”

“I…” he heard Minho’s voice crack as he spoke, “I…You see, I’d…I’d spent so long thinking I’d found my other half; my soulmate who will help me realize my fantasies and share my darkest desires. Chan was like me: sad and angry and wanting to rip the world apart for all the stuff it’d done to him. I…” he sniffed, “I tricked him into thinking he’d killed our neighbor after a fight in our apartment building. I thought, surely, Chan would understand at last how powerful murder makes someone, but…but he didn’t. He actually cried over the jerk. He said he felt guilty and that he’d never meant for the guy to die. I told him it wasn’t a big deal; that the guy deserved it. He told me…” Minho paused, and you saw tears sliding down his cheeks. “He said I was crazy, and they should lock me up for saying such things. I realized then that the person I adored did not exist. He was a poser, who pretended to be a part of the dark side but never actually planned on doing it.” 

He went around you to try meeting your eyes, but you stared into your lap. Your fingers curled into the loose parts of your pants, digging into the fabric tightly. He’d lied. He tricked you. You know now what Jeongin meant about being careful. You heard Minho’s voice thicken from the sobs in his throat, but didn’t acknowledge them. 

“When I came into this game, I thought that perhaps I’d meet the right person,” he said. “But, everyone proved to be worthless. They were all scared and stupid. It was fun watching them, and even more fun killing them, but you’re different.” 

The thunder continued rolling towards them, and everything went silent. No wind. No birds. Nothing but the thunder. What was happening? It never rained in the game. It was always sunny and breezy. You couldn’t help looking at Minho for an answer, but he only saw admiration. 

“You made him believe he’d murdered someone?” You questioned incredulously. “Why would you do that? That’s an awful thing to do to someone, especially one you loved.”

“I thought he was like me, like us. I thought he’d see-”

“-So, do you lie to everyone or only people who blindly trust you?” 

“You don’t understand, YN. I never meant to lie to you. I would’ve told you the truth eventually. YN, you’ve come to mean so much to me. You came in here and turned my game on its head. You made it better.”

He held both your hands in his, his touch making you sick. You gazed back into his eyes and saw it.  Minho’s appearance early in the game seemed suddenly strange. Why had he chosen that particular moment to appear? You recalled the emotions running through at that time. Confused and hazy, you thought you’d been caught considering the condition.  Originally, you thought Minho arrived to save you and guide you through the game. But, if that were true, why not reveal himself in the beginning?  You squirmed in your seat, feeling the cringing embarrassment coming over you. You should have seen this coming. You always consider every angle except this one. Why question Jeongin when the suspicious one knelt in front of you? People started going inside to avoid the incoming rain, while you two sat there. The confusion muddled your head, and you struggled to maintain your thoughts. “Minho, I think we should go inside-”

“-You're beautiful, cunning, clever, witty, and absolutely merciless,” Minho continued. “You see an objective, and you go after it with full force. You don’t back away from blood or gore or violence. I saw you there in that bathroom, hands covered with blood and splatters on your cheeks, and I knew you were the one for me. We’re the same,” he smiled softly at you, “You and I.” 

The black skies came with soft winds, blowing through the trees and flowers on the ground. The yard had gone suspiciously quiet even with the wind. You felt humidity touch your cheeks in the anticipation of rain. “It’s about to rain. We should, um,  go inside.” 

“I know you love Chan. I totally understand why you do, but YN, is he really worth the trouble? He won’t remember you once the game finds a new player. You’ll have his love for maybe a few days, and then a new person shows up. He’s really only a prize at the end of the game. When you’ve won, you go back home. You don’t stay here; you’ll lose Chan.” He forced you to focus on him, “But with me, you’ll have my love forever. If you decided to stay here, you’d have me and I’d have you. You won’t be alone anymore.” 

“I have to get home. I have a life back home,” you said distractedly. The dark clouds continued rolling. Something in the blackness felt ominous. It sent prickles across your skin, and dread filled you like lead.  

“No, you don’t,” he scoffed. “You work, eat, play games and sleep, right? That’s your whole routine with very few breaks from it.” 

He knelt closer to you, pushing your legs apart to slide between them. Your skin crawled as disgust crept over you. You saw Chan's empty spot, and your heart sank. 

“I know because that was my life too,” Minho pulled back your attention, “It’s like being a hamster on a wheel. You’re bound by society pressures and laws to act a certain way. They numb who you are with medications and therapy so you don’t step out of line. They tell you that you’re the screwed up one, and that you need to be locked up. You’re forced to go along with whatever they say, when really all you want to do is wreak havoc on people. This world can break you away from all those responsibilities and rules you’re forced to follow. You could be yourself here, and it’d be okay. I’d be here to guide you through it,” He kissed your hand gently, keeping his eyes on you. “Why go back when you can be here with me?” 

You would’ve answered if a large raindrop hadn't landed on your shoulder. The sky completely blackened above them now. 

��“I love you, YN,” Minho said, almost pleading with you, “I’m not supposed to tell you here or right now, but I can’t keep it quiet anymore.” More thunder and rain started falling all around them, “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” Lightning cracked through the sky, resounding through the courtyard and making you jump. “Come on,” he grabbed his bag and coffee, “Let’s go inside before we get struck by lightning.”

Minho took your hand and led you back inside. The rain pounded the pavement now, more thunder and lightning clashing in the sky, and people started reacting. They pulled out umbrellas, rushed underneath shelter, and wondered where it’d come from. You didn’t care about the rain. Minho’s confession clouded your mind from reality. This confession felt…forced. You ran through the wording Minho used: “We’re the same, you and I.” “YN, you’ve come to mean so much to me.” Such generic phrases. You wondered how many other players he’d used this tactic on. Surely, Minho hoped this love declaration might win you over, and you’d trust him more. You couldn’t trust someone who lies to people they supposedly love. 

“Can you explain what’s going on?” You asked once you were in front of his classroom. You turned to see Minho staring outside at the rain, his brow furrowed and biting his inner cheek. 

“Early confessions are prohibited,” he told you, though mostly speaking to himself. “It’ll probably make me restart now.” His phone beeped in his pocket, and he checked it to see the same screen. “Yup, I wasn’t supposed to tell you. But when you said what you said, it came out.”

“You should’ve been more honest with me.” 

“It’s not an easy thing for me to talk about. I promise,” he squeezed your hand, “That I’ll be more honest in the future.” 

“How can I be sure of that?”

He hesitated for a moment, simply staring into your face. You could see Minho’s heart dropping along with his shoulders. A sign of defeat. “Because your suffering is the only one I don’t enjoy.” 

Then, your lips met. You always imagined kisses being full of passion and love. Whenever you kissed someone, they left you with a light-headed feeling akin to drunkenness. Yet, when Minho pulled away, nothing came. No special, warm fuzzy feelings. No swarming butterflies in his stomach. You only felt sick with yourself. You thought about Changbin, who’d begun a relationship whilst loving Chan. You refused to be like that. You shouldered your bag, the rain pounding on the windows beside you, and said:

“I’ll see you around.” 

You left Minho standing in the hallway and rushed to class. Once around a corner, all the nerves sparking inside you rattled your bones. Minho's presence stayed on your body like bad body spray. You did not know what to do. You'd gone through plenty of guys whose attention you didn't want, but Minho seemed particularly dangerous. You did not believe any of that 'anyone-but-you' nonsense. Minho had loved Chan, but said he’d tricked him into believing he’d murdered someone. If Minho lied about Chan’s story, what else is he lying about? Your body tensed, slowly building up walls against the man. In a game of manipulation, deception, and violence, anything is possible.

You supposed you’d go to the guidance counselor’s office during lunch time to give in your evidence against Changbin. There'd be no point now. 

Walking into the classroom, Chan sat in his usual seat with the comic Changbin loaned him. Seeing the droplets on his shoulders and his dampened hair, he’d gotten caught in the sudden rain. Looking at him as you took your seat, the guilt hit you right away. You’d kissed Minho, or well, Minho kissed you. You wanted to spill your guts to Chan; you’d explain everything even if the other did not ask. You wished it’d been Chan you kissed. You imagined those lips tasting like the cherry lip balm he applied every day. 

“This rain’s insane, huh?” you said, trying to find words. 

“Huh? Oh yeah,” Chan nodded, smiling at you. So sweet. So innocent. You thought you might vomit from the guilt. “I hope you didn’t get caught in it too.”

“No, no. I escaped just in time.” 

The conversation then flowed easily. Minho’s confession and kiss immediately flushed from your mind once Chan smiled. You’d never want anyone else, and this made the ending so much harder to accept. 

****

Lunch time came quickly as always. You told Chan you’d see him in the cafeteria, and went ahead to the counselor’s office inside the administrative office. A plaque on the door reading "Mr. Wang, Guidance Counselor". Tentatively, you knocked on the door three times before a voice from within spoke.

“Come in.”

The guidance counselor, a middle-aged bespectacled man, lifted his head from the desk when you entered. He clasped both hands over the papers he’d been writing, and smiled. You walked into the room, which was the usual educator’s office. Motivational posters and family photos on the walls, a large bookshelf with important looking books on it stood on the other. You took a seat in an armchair in front of the desk. You vaguely recalled all the times you’d sat in administrative offices and explained the newest massive bullying attack. They often gave words of sympathy and reassurance to stop it, but that rarely worked. Your bullies only returned days later to resume the torment. 

“How may I help you today, YN-ssi?” Mr. Martin asked him.

“Well, you see, sir, um…” you twiddle your thumbs and bashfully look away, “This is a pretty delicate matter and I don’t know how to really explain it in sensitive terms. I understand this is a school, and certain behaviors are prohibited here.”

“You have no need to worry,” he assured you. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. Everything we say here stays here. Does it have to do with your grades? Another student?”

“Yes, it does involve another student. Seo Changbin, you might know him? He’s on the swim team.”

“Mr. Seo, yes I know him well. He’s a very good athlete. He’s brought lots of recognition to Whimoon in sporting events,” he said. “What has he done?” his tone sounded suspicious. 

“It’s not really what he’s done. It’s what someone has done to him.” You took a deep breath and said, “I believe him to be having a relationship with one of the teachers. It sounds like Mrs. Yoon, from what I gathered.”

“Mrs. Yoon?” he gave a soft laugh, “YN, that is a serious accusation. Mrs. Yoon is a beloved teacher here at this school. You must be mistaken. She’d never do such a thing with one of her students, or with any child. You must’ve heard things wrong.”

“I’d hoped the same, sir, but, well…I think this will explain everything.”

You put your phone on the desk and pressed ‘play’. Changbin and Sohee’s voices came through the speaker clearly. Mr. Wang’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened as he listened to Changbin break up with Sohee, have sex with her, and then her manipulating him into continuing their affair. A long silence followed the recording, until Mr. Wang coughed.

“Um, well, this is certainly something you’ve captured,” he declared, fixing his tie nervously and shifting around in his chair. “I will take this issue up with the Principal. In the meantime, I wish for this to stay between you and I. If word got out about this, it’d look very bad on the school, you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright. Go on and enjoy your lunch now.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

A sense of triumph filled you as he left the office and went back downstairs. Heading towards the cafeteria, you pictured Changbin becoming so ashamed by his affair with a teacher, he leaves the school. That meant one more rival down for the count. You’d be one step closer to Chan’s loving embrace. Minho told you that you won’t hold onto Chan for long after you win the game; he mentioned being able to stay with him instead. Your stomach churned thinking about being with Minho instead of Chan. All this plotting and killing was for Chan. Like Sohee, you risked so much for snippets of time with him. You risked your life, the one back home that seemed so empty compared to the life here. Here in the game world, you had Chan. In the real world, you had nobody.

You reached the cafeteria to find Chan sitting with the rest of the swim team, including Changbin, who couldn’t take his eyes off him. You wanted to gouge those deep brown eyes from his skull. He dared to look at Chan with loving eyes when he’d pumped himself inside the slutty teacher an hour ago. This is what their relationship will be should it ever happen: lies and deceit.

You grabbed a quick lunch, then walked right up to them. Notably, you took a seat beside Chan, and locked eyes with Changbin, whose face hardened. You wanted to tell him right there and then. You wanted Chan to know so he could steer clear of him. But, you’d already told the guidance counselor, who will inform the Principal, who will speak to Sohee for the whole story.

And then Changbin is out of the way.

“-Are you alright, YN-ah?” Chan’s voice cut him away from his thoughts.

“Um, yeah, totally,” he replied. “Why?”

“You seem upset,” he said. “Is it about Minho?”

“What? No. It’s not Minho. Why would you think that?”

“Because he likes you, and…well, I thought it might have something to do with him, that’s all. Nothing mean about it.” He took a spoonful of his stew, then said, “What’re you doing after practice today?”

“Nothing special. Why?” a familiar warmth started rolling around in your stomach that had nothing to do with the lunch.

“Well, there’s this cool anime shop in town that I-”

It was very brief. A kind of blink-and-you-miss-it sort of brief. Chan’s handsome face suddenly flickered blue and white. It caught you off guard, and you stared curiously at the boy. Blue and white pixels gave into darkness, only to be quickly covered again. You didn’t know what it meant, but Chan kept smiling.

“-Are you alright, YN-ah?” he asked again, same as before.

“I’m okay. Are you?”

“Totally great. I’m glad the weather’s cleared up. I was worried I’d have to walk back home in the rain.”

“Yeah…right, the rain…”

You went back to your lunch, pondering on the strange occurrence until the bell rang for classes again. This meant physical education for you and Chan, walking to the locker rooms together. There was no doubt in your mind that you’d just experienced a glitch. Chan was about to go “off-script" when it happened to interrupt him. You considered the possibility when Mr. Wang appeared in the doorway as they all made to leave in their gym uniforms.

“Will the following boys please come with me,” he read off a small paper in his hand, “Park YN, Seo Changbin, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, and Kim Namjoon.”

Chan looked at you worriedly, and you pretended to be clueless. Changbin’s face said everything. He must’ve guessed they’d be caught, but the amount of names gave him pause. How many boys did Sohee entangle herself with while here? Changbin was clearly not her one and only. He gazed around at the group of boys with confusion, who returned the expression. You noticed the realization starting to hit some of them as they started walking. One or two shivered with nervousness, but Changbin blinked back tears. Serves him right, you thought. It’s a good thing they’re ending this now, before Changbin had a chance to hurt Chan with his infidelity.

The group of boys followed Mr. Wang to the Principal’s office. There, he saw Felix sitting alone in a chair outside the office. He laughed in surprise when he saw the amount of boys heading his way. He did not appear as hurt as Changbin, whose tears slid down his cheeks. Mr. Wang told them all to find a seat and wait to be called into the room. When he left into the Principal’s office, Felix spoke up:

“You guys were banging her too?”

The crude question made their heads turn, but none answered. Except you. “I wasn’t,” you admitted. “I don’t even like women.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I told them about her.”

You met Changbin’s puffy eyes, and the boy looked at you. You couldn’t help yourself. You wanted Changbin to know it was you who ruined him. You wanted to tell him that you're not doing this to hurt him, but to spare Chan’s feelings. You did it to protect him from someone who’d no doubt crush him in the end.

“What?” Felix asked in shock. “Why?”

“Because what she’s doing is wrong, and she needs to be stopped.”

“You prick,” he hissed, sitting right in his seat. “She’s the easiest piece of ass I’ve ever gotten. All I had to do was give her something pretty, and wham! Knees hit the floor. Now, you’ve gone fucking that all up for the rest of us.”

“I’m sure you’ll find some other pathetic, miserable girl with low self-esteem to give you the time of day, Lee.”

“I hope your balls fall off, Park.”

You smirked, and brushed off the insult. Soon, Mr. Wang began calling the boys one by one. You wondered how they discovered Sohee’s other victims. Had she given them up? Had word gotten out and people came forward? It didn’t matter. By the time they reached Changbin, you knew his time at Whimoon was over. There was no way Changbin’s prestigious, elite family would want their son staying at the school where he’d been preyed on. When your turn came, you passed by the weeping Changbin, who’d long since given into the truth: his girlfriend cheated on him. You briefly pictured Chan in the same position, except by Changbin. You’d done the right thing.

Mr. Wang sat beside Principal Choi, an older woman with black hair tied back from her face in a tight bun. She eyed you as you walked into her office and took a seat.

“Mr. Park,” she addressed him first, “I understand it was you who caught Mrs. Yoon with Changbin?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you nodded.

“Well, first off, I’d like to thank you for bringing this to our attention,” she began. “It appears Mrs. Yoon had many victims, and you outing her has put a stop to her predatory behavior. Secondly, the facullllty-” 

She suddenly paused. You looked at Mr. Wang, who remained focused on you rather than Principal Choi, whose head tilted at an odd angle in the middle of her speech. The blue and white flickering of a glitch covered half her head, making her twitch and jolt in her seat. 

“The-The-The fac-cul-ty-ty-ty and-and-and I-I-I,” the dialogue forced itself out through the glitch, the voice wavering between her natural tone and modulation. She twitched harder in her seat, and suddenly went stiff. “ThefacultyandIwouldappreciateitifyoucontinuedtokeep-keep-keep-” 

She stopped completely. You closely watched her and the blackness started swallowing her face. You worried she might completely disappear. You did not want to know what happened if she ever did. Mr. Wang, as before, remained fully frozen in place. All movement in him stopped, as well as the room around them. Several long seconds passed before Principal Choi jerked upright into her original position and stared straight at you. 

“-The faculty and I would appreciate it if you continued to keep this issue discrete while we handle it properly,” she continued on as before. “We’d like you to sign this non-disclosure agreement to assure us that you won’t post about this anywhere or go to any media sources with the story. Whimoon High School has a long standing reputation in the community; a scandal such as this might tarnish that reputation, and we could lose funding for our academic and sports programs…like the swimming team or the gardening club, for example.”

You stared in confusion. You looked back at Mr. Wang, who only nodded his approval at her statement. The glitch might as well have not happened. 

“Do we have an understanding, Mr. Park?” she asked again. 

You signed the document and swore your secrecy. The glitching continued haunting you as you left her office. You assumed this is the long-term result of your tampering. You wondered what other parts of the game were affected by it. A part of you hoped Minho’s confession is another game bug, and he’ll be totally normal next time. 

To relieve yourself of the dread, you decided you’d end the school day by following Chan home after gym and swimming practice. You thought about the story Minho told you about the real Chan. You could imagine someone being so full of guilt they take their own life, and their loved one recreating them in a virtual world. You know if it’d happened to you, you’d do anything to hold onto a piece of Chan. 

You loved Chan in whatever form he took.

*** Later That Night ***

How. Dare. He. They almost ripped through the coding to delete him from the game. If he hadn’t locked them out, they would’ve done it ages ago. For the first time in years, a shiver of anger went through their binary form. They would’ve screamed, cursed, and spewed the truth for you to hear. The more lies Minho poured into you, the further away you slipped. They’d watched his tearful confession, their anger storming inside them, and decided to cut it short. Thankfully, Minho believed it to be the sentient being they called ‘The Game’, and not their doing. Yet, they are one in the same. Minho hasn’t suspected them yet, but he is no fool. He’ll eventually catch on, and they need to be ready for when he does. 

Watching over you on your way back to the bedroom, painful memories started coming back to them. They remember what happened even after they’d died and their blood filled electric wires. It came too vividly for them to ever forget. 

Chan had been packing up his things while Minho worked. He’d finally decided to leave Minho for good, and planned on staying with his best friend, Felix, until he got on his feet. Felix sat in their lounge, they remembered, scrolling through apps on his phone and patiently waiting. Minho shouldn’t have been home. He worked long hours in his corporate job; he hoped to be gone before Minho arrived. Yet, Chan hadn’t heard the front door open. He hadn’t been there when Minho found Felix in their apartment. They regretted inviting Felix inside. A vivid image of Felix sprawled on their couch, several stab wounds punctured his chest, neck and stomach. It reminded them of an ink blot; the blood stains coming together on his white shirt, making obscene images across his chest. 

He saw Minho, standing over him with a pair of kitchen scissors. Scissors of all weapons. He confronted Chan about things he’d never done like sleeping with Felix, going out with Felix behind his back and leaving him for Felix. Chan tearfully tried calming him down, explaining that he’d never done any of those things. He’d walked back from him on shaky legs towards the door. He’d tried getting away, but not quick enough. 

They refused to let him get away with lying…to you, of all people. You, who’d come so far already. You, who had so much left to do. The beautiful, brilliant man who’d stumbled into their twisted web, and managed to cut himself free. 

They wouldn’t let Minho win this time.

****

A/N: Wow, talk about a game of deception. Will YN get out of this web of lies?? Reblog and like <3

[drrealityslenderverse]

Sleepless Nights

Wattpad Request: Tim x Jay Ft. some angst with a happy ending!

Back to main Contents || Back to One-shot Contents

Insomnia was nothing new to Jay at this point. Dark circles beneath his eyes were common and more often than not bags accompanied the exhausted look. Some nights he didn’t even know if he was awake or asleep anymore, not since Tim… left. 

Closing his eyes was no different than lying with them wide open facing the crappy motel ceiling when the room was this dark. It played with his mind sometimes, whispers of whether or not something might be lurking in the corners. Fears he’d had as a child only now it was so much more real. What if the shadow cast was really that Thing appearing in that mysterious way it did? 

It was too dark for shadows tonight. The blinds were tightly shut and the lights that should have lined the sidewalk had burned out. Jay felt like his chest was trying to rip itself apart and almost wished that familiar static would just drown out his consciousness. 

Tim left him behind.

The thought repeated as if his mind was an echo chamber. It didn’t make sense, things had been going well… or he’d thought they were. Alex was out there somewhere, a threat but one they’d been managing to avoid well. Answers weren’t easy to find but they’d gotten their hands on some old tapes he’d planned to make into entries at some point… Maybe when he could pull himself together enough to handle seeing Tim’s face on the screen.

“What did I do wrong?” No, it wasn’t his fault! It was that guy with the hoodie’s fault! 

Tim had left after ‘Hoody’, as viewers called the figure, broke into their former hotel room and stole not just Tim’s meds, but Jay’s camera as well. Jay had already searched Rosswood and the hospital, pleading with whatever higher powers might exist that he’d find Tim or that masked state he went into… no dice. Tim had replaced his meds the next day anyway, so it had been a slim chance that he’d relapsed, in hindsight. 

Jay blinked, not that he could tell beyond the rough feeling that said maybe he should invest in some eye drops. He felt small and alone now. No camera to keep things straight should he black out again and more importantly, no Tim to make him feel safe. He missed the man’s large arms around him as they both tried to get some form of rest. When one had a nightmare, the other was always right there to console them. Jay didn’t always dream anymore with how tired he was, but recently his nightmares consisted of Tim lying dead or dying somewhere in bumfuck nowhere.

Despite his mourning over the loss of his boyfriend, days of sleepless nights and stress caught up to him. Jay didn’t know when he slipped off to sleep, but it happened because at some point he was woken up by the door opening. His breath caught, fearing another break-in, before the dim orange light on the desk was switched on in the far corner—Jay hadn’t even heard the person move.

His eyes adjusted to the faint light and widened at the sight before him: Tim. His precious Tim, the man he’d thought might be out of his life forever. Was this a dream, or a hallucination? “T-Tim?” 

“Jay, sorry… I was trying not to wake you up.” Tim sat his things down on the floor and pulled off his coat, pills rattling in their bottle from within one of the pockets. 

“Where have you been? Are you okay? I thought you—” A camera was sat down on the TV stand, his camera. “You… found it?” 

“Didn’t you see my note? I said I was going after the guy.” Concern laced Tim’s soft voice; the bed dipped as he sat on its edge. “I didn’t think it’d take so long… Are you okay? Did something happen?” 

Note? What note? Fear seeped into his blood, chilling him as he considered what else might’ve been forgotten. Jay hadn’t even realized he’d been shaking until Tim was there to steady his scrawny form, engulfing it with strong arms and pressing him into Tim’s warm chest.

“I never saw the note, I don’t think.” Jay paused, realized how that could sound, and immediately scrambled to reassure him. “Everything else has been fine though! My head has been clear, I don’t feel like I’m forgetting anything… I must’ve just fallen and I didn’t see it.” 

Dark eyes watched him, lips pressed lightly against his head for a moment, and then Tim was gently pushing him to lie down again. “Okay… We’re fine, safe.”

Jay couldn’t tell who Tim was trying to convince. The feeling of a large hand rubbing soothing circles against his hand was enough to convince him the words were true though. Tim was back, of course everything was okay! 

“I’m going to shower and change, I’ll be right back.” Tim slowly moved further away, reluctant but the promise of returning soon was clear. “Try to get back to sleep.” 

Ever the worrier. Jay smiled and nodded. Weight lifted from his chest just knowing Tim was safe and soon they’d be in each others’ arms where nothing felt like it could harm them. The eagerness of the latter part was almost enough to keep him awake as he waited for Tim’s return from the shower. The sound of the running water was hypnotic though and he began to doze again until Tim rejoined him. 

Jay all but crushed himself against Tim as the shorter man settled down. Words were muffled as he spoke against the fabric covering Tim’s chest. “Don’t run off without me again.” 

A quiet hum and a hand was once more rubbing those soothing circles on his back this time. “Only if there is a next time… Let’s hope there won’t be.” 

"M’kay.” Right, of course. Jay nodded sleepily as he drifted off once more. 

For once after the past days, he could sleep without restlessly tossing. It was as if Tim’s very presence had driven the paranoia and fears from his mind, leaving him only blissful silence and peaceful dreams of what their life together after the waking nightmare was over would be like.

[straightlightyagami]

tbh I'm not so sure about the "abolishing standardized testing" thing either. if anything that seems like making education/uni admissions more US-esque and I think that's worse lol. if anything wouldn't a socialist-er system of education have more standardization? I guess an issue is accessibility for disabled students but I'm not sure how this would make it better... again at least to me if anything it seems the american system is even less accessible

[hwsforeignrelations]

RANT

[100-gar]

Controversial take but i watched all of jjk, in subbed, so it had my full attention 100% of the time, and i am of the opinion that it just fucking sucks.

So me and my wife were talking about it, and we were trying to figure out why people like it and we've come up short. I do not understand what's so appealing about this show for so many people. Can someone PLEASE tell me.

[sonicprim3d]

" We signing tonight? "

[pet-rock-from-hell]

thinked thoughts so hard now i gotta lie on the floor about it

[bunnis-monsters]

I saw your cow and bull hybrids post and it got me wondering. How would the hybrids take care of pregnant reader. [Both Cows and Bulls] Like during the pregnancy and after the baby/babies are born.

The bull hybrids are pretty much banned from handling you once you’re past 3 months. The cow hybrids will charge at them, stopping and huffing until they back off.

This is because the bulls are way too strong! They could end up hurting you unintentionally, which would put the calf in your belly in danger!

The cows and farmer are your main caretakers, with a doctor coming to check on you monthly. It’s not easy, the bulls are incredibly protective over you and will absolutely impale anyone that they deem suspicious or dangerous to you and the calf with their horns.

The cows spend most of their time fussing over you, keeping you fed and warm at all times. The cows also like to keep you sat on their cocks, cooing and rubbing your belly and filling you up with lots of cum!

This makes the bulls very jealous… but it can’t be helped. Even at their most gentle, sex with the bulls is far rougher than sex with a human.

They’re all determined to keep you safe and content, and once they know you’re pregnant, you aren’t leaving the farm. Once you’re near the birth of the calf, they won’t even let you out of the barn! There’s always a hand on your belly, a cow nuzzling into you and mooing softly.

Once the calf is born, their protective nature only sky rockets. No one outside of the barn is allowed to touch the calf besides the farmer and doctor. If the bulls sense a threat, they deal with it immediately.

It’s not recommended to go near the barn after their mate has given birth… but with you being a fragile human, it’s even worse. They see you as a runt, a little thing in need of protecting.

The bulls are eager to start milking you after the birth, and become frustrated when you scold them and only want to feed the baby.

It’s not long before you’re knocked up again. Only a few months after giving birth, you’re getting stuffed full of cum front both bulls and hybrids, your pussy puffy and swollen from abuse. They just can’t help it, you’re so lovely and soft… you’re tight and warm and make them so horny!! They can’t resist your scent!

You should just get used to being their breeding cow… they’ll pamper you and treat you like a princess, all you have to do is be a good girl and let them fuck another calf into you.

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @screaming-crying-screamingagain @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @j3llyphisching @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte

[gloomwitchwrites]

You get drunk and don't remember giving them a hickey. So you get mad at them.

Oh, anon! I love love love this prompt. Even though the prompt itself is fairly straightforward, there is some wiggle room about how this could play out. I stuck to the prompt but did my best to keep them on the shorter side.

Some of these get spicy but don't fall into graphic detail.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, arguing, sexual tension, kissing, alcohol

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“These reports are shit, Price. What am I supposed to do with them?”

You’re trying your best not to sound irritated, but your head is pounding. You agreed to go out for drinks but told yourself you wouldn’t have more than one or two. That went completely out the door when multiple people began paying for rounds. After the fourth, the night started to come blurry. Not all the pieces are there.

Of what you can recall from last night, you remember that you sat in a man’s lap. Well—sat isn’t the correct word. More like straddled. You remember strong arms, an accent, and an excitement in what you were doing. But the face is still foggy.

“What you always do,” replies Price. There’s a tease in his tone you don’t particularly like. It’s too friendly, and it stirs something fierce inside your belly.

Price shifts in his chair behind his desk, the collar of his jacket flops open slightly. You catch a hint of something dark on the side of Price’s neck. You frown, your rebuttal gone.

“What is that?” You nod toward his throat.

Price leans back. “What?” he asks. “This?” He reaches up, pulling back on the collar.

It’s a…oh fuck.

“You were happy to give it to me.” Price shrugs.

Fuck.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, tossing the manila file folder on Price’s desk.

The man you straddled last night was Price? The man who is always fucking up reports and ignoring all your suggestions for corrections? That one?

“You looked good doing it, too,” he continues, that teasing smile falling into a comfortability of a lover.

No. No no no.

You place your hands on your hips. “And you let me do that?”

Price shrugs. “We’re consenting adults.”

“I was drunk.”

Price crosses his arms over his chest. “We were both drunk. And you’re the one who pounced on me.”

Embarrassment rises hot and wild in your cheeks. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“You did,” he confirms, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly as he smirks. “Ambushed me actually.”

“Then why didn’t you stop me?” Your voice cracks, going a bit high.

“I tried.”

That’s almost worse. You jumped him and then sucked on his neck until it left a mark. What an absolute fucking mess.

You roll your eyes. “You tried? A big strong man like you couldn’t stop me?”

This time Price is the one rolling his eyes. He makes an irritated groan. Price pushes up from his chair, one hand waving out in front of him as he speaks. “You said you’d been thinking about me.”

It’s not entirely untrue. While you attend the clerical side of things, you do make excuses to come see Price. He’s older. Handsome. Assertive. His reports aren’t always shit but it’s the only reason you have to bother him.

“I didn’t mean it,” you reply but even you don’t believe it.

Price comes around the desk and steps into your space. “Really?”

You square your shoulders, staring into Price’s face. “Really.”

He shakes his head, clearly not believing you at all. “As I recall, you were in my lap. Practically begging.”

“And you allowed that? In front of everyone?” Even Price couldn’t be that careless.

This time, Price smiles like he knows something you don’t. “You don’t remember.”

“What?” you ask, flustered.

Price starts laughing, but it’s not mocking, more like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“John,” you snap.

Price sinks down into his chair, legs spread wide. “I think I liked it better when you said my name while seated in my lap.”

Your fingers dig into the top of Price’s desk. Pieces begin to return. Fragments of you squirming in his lap. Lips pressed against his.

“How did you say it?” he ponders, almost aloud rather than to you. Then, he smiles, not even answering his own question.

Price rests his palm on his thigh and your gaze drops to its subtle movement before returning to his face.

“Think I’d like a matching one,” he says. He runs his hand down his thigh and then back up. “Or I could give you one just like it.”

“John,” you murmur, not knowing what it is you want to say.

“Doesn’t have to be on your neck,” and his voice is nearly a growl. Price lightly squeezes his thigh and you know exactly where he’s referring to. “Be easier if you sit on the desk.”

You snatch up the folder on Price’s desk, clutching it like a shield against your chest. Price doesn’t even blink. Doesn’t appear fazed at all. Stomping over you shove it against his chest, intending to walk right out the door.

But Price is quick.

With one hand he’s clutching the file and with the other he grabs your wrist before you manage to move away.

“Remove your hand,” you say but there is no venom in it.

Price’s gaze lingers on your lips before shifting up to meet your eyes. “Come back when you know what you want.”

Price releases you, and you nearly stumble forward into his lap. Catching yourself on the edge of his desk, you spin on your heel, exiting Price’s office as the final fragments of memory fall into place.

You don’t want to admit it.

Not out loud. Not yet.

But you will be back.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It’s unbelievable. Unfathomable.

You’re not angry with Kyle. You’re upset with yourself. You’re upset that you were so careless about how many drinks you had, and how you couldn’t control yourself in the moment. Kyle is not a liar, and he doesn’t take advantage, so whatever you did, is on you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, swallowing down some of the rising irritation. “It’s my fault.”

Kyle shrugs, a sheepish smile on his face. “Not like I pushed you away.”

“That doesn’t matter,” you insist, flinging your arms out in exasperation, nearly knocking over bottles of cleaner.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, catching one of them before it hits the floor.

This little storage room isn’t big enough for this. You need space. You need to run far away from here and pretend like last night didn’t happen. Not that you can remember all of it. You don’t recall giving Kyle that mark on his neck.

“It does matter. We both had too much but I still had more of my head than you did.” Kyle places the bottle of cleaner back on the shelf. “I should’ve done better.”

“We’re coworkers, Kyle. And I had no right. We aren’t together.”

Kyle smirks and you want to smack it right off his face. “We could be,” he murmurs, taking a step forward.

“Absolutely not,” you retort but you don’t retreat.

Kyle’s smirk faulters a bit but he doesn’t shrink away. If anything, he looks more determined, like the rejection is a farce.

“You remember anything you said to me last night?”

You lick your lips and cross your arms defensively over your chest. “Even if I did, does it change anything?”

Kyle sighs and runs his hand over the top of his head. “It does for me.”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you consider your options. Kyle is a sweet man, at least to you. Everyone always comments on it to you when he isn’t around, and you’ve always dismissed their observations.

Maybe he does care, and you doing this tipped him over the edge into a place neither of you might be able to come back from.

“I need some fucking air,” you mutter, wanting to escape this situation, even for a bit.

Kyle shoves forward, blocking the door. Your lips move, forming the shapes of words, but Kyle shakes his head, all seriousness.

“We need to talk about this.”

“We don’t need to talk about anything,” you snap.

Kyle’s eyebrows rise toward his hairline and his head tips slightly to the side, revealing more of the mark. “Everyone knows what happened.”

“What?” you breathe.

“We weren’t alone when you straddled me.” You’re too stunned to speak. All the words you want to say are gone. Lost to the void that is your mind.

Kyle sighs and leans against the door. “Soap got a great view.”

“Stop talking. Just—stop.” Your throw up your hands and Kyle does as you ask. “You are going to move out of my way. I am going to leave. And we won’t talk about this again.”

Kyle only stares, the silence stretching.

When you think he won’t give in, Kyle shifts to his left, leaving the door completely clear. Without taking a second to reconsider, you push open the the door, nearly running over Soap in the process.

He stumbles backward, cheeks bright red. Ghost is next to him, arms crossed, staring at the wall like he isn’t there at all.

Soap’s brief fluster turns into a wide, knowing grin. “Gaz give you a matching one?” he teases.

Ghost makes a noise that sounds like a snort.

“Both of you can fuck off.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Ghost.”

“What?” he grunts, side-eyeing you before returning his attention back to the tablet in his hand. He absently rubs at his neck for the third time in the last few minutes.

You frown. “Are you injured?”

“Why would you think that?” he asks, tapping at something on the screen.

“You keep rubbing your neck.”

Ghost pauses, his finger hovering just above the screen as he turns slightly in your direction.

You’re not trying to be pushy or nosy. Ghosts hates that. But there’s something wrong, and you care enough to ask him about it.

“You know what’s on my neck,” he replies cooly.

“No. I don’t.” A swirling fracture of unease blooms in your belly. It curls outward to claw up your throat. “What are you talking about?”

Ghost’s hand holding the tablet drops to his side. With one gloved hand, he reaches up, tugging the neckline of his jacket down enough to reveal a portion of his throat. The mask he always wears is in the way, but you reach out with a tentative hand, brushing the fabric upward to reveal a mouth-shaped bruise.

You drop your hand and take a step back. “Why would I know anything about that?”

“You gave it to me,” he says, matter of fact.

Sure, you had a few drinks last night, but did you really have that many? Enough that you can’t recall giving Ghost a goddamn hickey.

“You’re mistaken.”

“Never wrong, love.” Ghost locks the tablet and places it on the table next to him. “Especially about a woman sitting in my lap.”

“Don’t,” you say sharply. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, hips adjusting slightly as he pivots to glare down at you. “Try again.”

A deep rush of embarrassment floods your system, curling up your neck to heat your cheeks. “I wouldn’t.”

“You did,” insists Ghost. You glance down at the floor, unable to meet his gaze. Perhaps you had one too many. Sometimes you can hold your alcohol but clearly not. At least not last night.

You clear your throat. “I’m sorry.” An apology is best. You have no idea how Ghost feels about you, but you are irritated that he didn’t try to stop the whole thing in the first place.

Ghost is silent a long moment. “I’m not.” Your head snaps up, but Ghost isn’t done. “I liked it. And you enjoyed giving it to me.”

You need the pieces to fall back into place. You need to remember. Because right now, you’re just confused, and Ghost’s behavior is entirely different from his usual demeanor.

“You don’t know that.”

Ghost shrugs. “I do.”

His certainty is confusing. Ghost is not a liar. He is always truthful, always to the point, even if his bluntness comes across as rude. And that’s what so frustrating about it all because you know that Ghost is right. You probably did like it, probably begged and writhed in his lap. Ghost wouldn’t lie about something like that, but he would tease you. Might even hold it over your head.

“This conversation is over.” You step around him to grab the tablet, but Ghost is quick like a viper, his large hand encasing your wrist.

“Do you remember?”

No. I don’t.

“It doesn’t matter.” You try to tug your wrist out of his grasp, but Ghost holds firm.

“When you’re ready. Find me.” He leans forward, masked face nearly touching the side of your cheek. “We’ll recreate it.”

Then his hand is gone, and Ghost is pulling away, presenting the tablet to you like he didn’t say anything at all.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“What the fuck is that?”

Soap’s brilliant smile turns in your direction. He sits on the seat of a bench press, elbows resting on knees, sweat dripping from his brow. Soap is shirtless and a white towel is draped over the back of his neck.

Reaching up with the edge of the towel, Soap wipes away some of the sweat on his face. “What are you on about?” He adjusts his stance, his large palm pressing into his knee as he leans on an elbow.

The small gym isn’t crowded but there are people here. Some of them turn and glance in your direction but otherwise keep to their business. Ghost and Gaz are over by the boxing ring observing a few new recruits who slug it out for bragging rights.

Is Soap so aloof? Does he not see the massive mark on the side of his neck? And who gave it to him? A group of you went out for drinks but you don’t recall who might have given it to him or when.

You step closer, lowering your voice. “Your neck, Johnny.”

That gorgeous smile of his widens and he chuckles. “Did you forget?”

Did you forget? Forget what? Are you part of this?

You swallow, the salvia nearly sticking in your throat as you try to calm your thudding heart. “What do you mean?”

Soap leans back a bit, observing you. “You gave this to me.” His voice is too loud, and you glance over your shoulder to make sure no one’s heard. Everyone appears to be preoccupied with the recruits in the ring.

“I didn’t,” you insist, turning back to him. “I’d remember.”

Soap guffaws and removes the towel from around his neck. “Took a seat right here.” He indicates the spot by tapping his left thigh.

“Did we…” you begin, and then trail off.

“Did we what?” he prompts, clearly enjoying this.

You bend forward, lowering your voice until it’s a hiss. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Soap smirks, and then rises to his full height. “Promise I was a perfect gentleman.” He matches your movement, leaning in so that your faces are close. “But you? You were no lady.”

You inhale sharply, and Soap pushes right past you, heading for the showers.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving

@childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666

@unhinged-reader-36 @pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath

@enfppuff @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu

@thewulf @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos

@enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project

@burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @contractedcriteria

@lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie

@tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior @dakotakazansky

@hantheconqueror

[pogueprincess]

Thawed Out

summary: Frustrated after losing a game to your brothers’ team, you let Cregan take his frustration out on you.

pairing: Modern!Cregan x Targtower!Reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: Explicit smut, semi-public/rough sex, spit, p in v, creampie, 18+ MDNI

note: Sorry it’s been a month since I’ve posted!! Watch this flop asdfghkl

Your eyelids flutter as Sara lightly dabs glittery eyeshadow onto them with her ring finger.

“Try to hold still,” she tells you, just as your reflection catches her eye in the mirror that hangs on the back of her closet door.

“Oh no,” she frowns, making note of the jersey you’re wearing, “Cregan is not going to like that.”

The jersey — all black, has no distinctive feature of any team, but it does have the name “Targaryen” etched onto the back, and 01 on the front, which is your brother Aemond’s hockey number.

Cregan is number 13.

“Targaryen is my last name,” you remind her, “and besides, Cregan is the one who wants to hide me. If he wants me to wear his jersey to games, he will have to make me more than just a fuck buddy,” you shrug.

Her lips turn downward into a frown, but she nods her head in agreement with you.

Very few people are aware of your relationship with Cregan. He’s a good guy with a big heart, the complete opposite of a fuckboy or a player. The main, if not only, reason why the two of you decided to keep things a secret was so you wouldn’t have to deal with the backlash from your brothers.

Cool air whips against your face, and tensions are high with only a few minutes left remaining of the game.

You watch on eagerly as Aegon pulls a move that is supposedly illegal, but the ref’s don’t seem to count it. Resulting in your brothers’ team winning the game.

You can’t help but wince as you watch Cregan rip his helmet off and make a beeline toward Aegon on the ice.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“Aww,” your eldest brother frowns in response, “Run home with your tail between your legs!” he calls. Cregan grunts in response while the rest of Aegon’s teammates, Aemond included, howl maniacally like wolves. Making a mockery of Cregan and the rest of his team.

You roll your eyes at the scene and push your way out of the stands and through the crowd.

You pick at your fingernails nervously as you wait outside the locker room, refusing to enter until the remainder of Cregan’s teammates pass you by.

The smell of sweat fills your senses as you enter the abandoned locker room.

“Cregan,” you call, “baby?”

The locker room is quiet and dim. The only audible sound in the room is the faint buzzing of one of the poorly lit fluorescent lights.

Cregan is sat on one of the benches, his nose pinched between his thumb and forefinger. You reach your arms around him.

“Hey,” you offer, “for what it’s worth, you did great.”

“I’m just so fucking pissed off!”

Cregan’s deep voice echoes through the locker room as he throws his stick to the floor. As mentioned earlier, Cregan’s a stand up guy, but his temper is a force to be reckoned with; and nothing sets it off quite like losing a hockey game.

“I know you’re upset baby,” you state empathetically as you dig the pads of your fingers into his shoulders. An attempt to massage the tense tissue, he all but grunts in response.

“You wanna take it out on me?”

“What?” He asks in a deadpan.

“Your frustration … you should just take it out on me.”

Cregan raises his eyebrows at this but he takes no time to react. He stands up quickly, his thick frame hovering over yours before he shoves you against the lockers abruptly. Gripping at your chin with force, he demands you to open your mouth. You oblige and he spits directly down your throat, you swallow obediently with a content mewl as wetness pools at your center.

A pathetic “please” is all you’re able to muster out to him as he stares at you hungrily.

He takes a seat on the bench, tugging his uniform pants and boxer briefs down to his ankles in one swift motion, exposing his cock.

His calloused hands lift you onto his lap with haste. A shiver runs through your body as he yanks down your leggings and underwear in a quick swoop, causing you to hiss as cool air fans your cunt. It isn’t long before Cregan’s warm hand is cupping you, his fingers playing in your slick.

You want to cry out when he removes his hand from you but once his hands are at your thighs again, spreading you open, you feel the throbbing head of his cock prodding against you.

“Fuck, baby,” you moan, egging him on, “come on, I said, take it out on me.”

A growl erupts from his chest as he forcefully spears you down onto his cock, filling you to the hilt. Your eyes flutter shut and you try your best to suppress a moan as he begins to split you open.

He continues with unrelenting thrusts while his grip on your hips only tightens, taking full control.

“Fuckin. Targaryen’s,” he says through gritted teeth, harshly slapping the swell of your ass. Your head snaps up as you glare at him disapprovingly.

“Obviously not you baby,” he coo’s reassuringly, running his fingers along the red handprint that’s forming, soothing the pain before kneading at the tender flesh.

“It’s just— Gods, do they fuckin’ rile me up,” he mumbles as both his hands make their way to your waist again, helping him thrust into you even harder.

“I know, baby, I know” you whimper, pressing your forehead to his as he continues to fuck into you at an unrelenting pace.

“But you know just how to make me feel better, don’t you, baby?”

“Y-yes,” you choke out as he perfectly angles his cock against your cervix.

“Yeah you do, this sweet little pussy is all I need.”

You can feel the tension building in your body at his words, your breath coming out in short gasps as he expertly moves inside of you.

His fingers trail down from your hips to your cunt again, sending hot waves of electricity through you.

His intense, grey, gaze never leaves yours. With each thrust, you feel yourself on the brink of insanity. Each drag of his length has you closer and closer to the edge.

Cregan moves with determination, his body pressed hard against yours as he takes you to new heights of pleasure. His digits finally find the apex of your thighs and pinch at your throbbing bud, causing you to gasp and arch your back.

Urging him on as he expertly works his fingers over your most sensitive spot. Each touch sends waves of pleasure through you. With one final pinch and a flick of his thumb, you’re cumming around him — gasping and trembling as the walls of your cunt tighten around his length.

His breathing comes labored and heavy, his eyes squeezed shut as he chases his own release. His own hips stuttered as he felt you continue to pulse around him. Unable to keep his composure any longer, he lets out a loud groan and spills himself inside of you, painting your walls with his seed.

“Fuckin’ Targaryen’s,” he drawls, this time his tone is filled with appreciation.

[simplyholl]

The Interview

Summary: After a talk show interview where secrets are revealed, things get heated in your dressing room.

Pairing: Rockstar Bucky x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Rockstar AU.

See My Masterlist Here

A/N: Sebastian Stan as Tommy Lee has me in a chokehold. So this was born from my tatted, horny daydreams.

"Who is your celebrity crush?" The host of the Midnight Show, Chet Smith asked you. Your newest movie was a box office hit, so you had to do every talk show to promote it. To say you were exhausted is an understatement. Luckily, this was your last stop for today. This show was the most fun because Chet brought out all the celebrity guests together. At least you weren't by yourself answering awkward questions.

The other guests were Red Star, the hottest rock band at the moment. They went viral while playing at their local bar. An audience member threw a bottle at their lead singer, Loki and the whole band jumped off stage to fight. They were offered a record deal the same week.

They are known for their wild videos on TikTok. Women everywhere love them. Currently, they are squeezed on the small sofa with you for the interview. Bucky Barnes, their drummer sat on one side of you, his tattoos drew you in like a moth to a flame. You were doing your best to not stare at him the whole time.

The Odinson brothers, Thor and Loki were on the other side. Loki is the lead singer, his long, dark curls and piercing stare made men and women weak in the knees. Thor plays guitar and he is the band's himbo. He's a charmer, flirting with you the whole interview. Steve Rogers is their bassist, an All-American guy to balance the others out. He plays the part well, flashing his megawatt smile at the live audience. But you can tell there is a darker side to him lurking under the surface.

You consider Chet's question; your PR team warned you about questions like this. "Well, I don't really have one." You shrug your shoulders, as the audience begs for a real answer. "Come on, darling. I know you're lying." Loki smirks, reaching his hand over Thor to rub your thigh.

"If I go first, will that help?" Steve asks, being the helpful guy that he is. You nod smiling shyly at him. "Okay, but when it's your turn you have to be honest." He winks at you, and the audience goes wild. He answers one of your costars. You promise to hook them up later. You feel your cheeks heating up, suddenly embarrassed that you have to answer now.

Chet repeats the question, and you bite your lip, pointing beside you to Bucky. "My celebrity crush is actually this guy." Bucky looks ecstatic, high fiving his band members as they congratulate him as if he has won an award. Thor's answer is a pretty pop star who he had been spotted out with twice already.

Loki's celebrity crush is a famous author whose upcoming book features a main male character who looks suspiciously like him. Dating rumors swirled even though there was no proof, except for a few flirty comments between them on Instagram. When it's Bucky's turn he says you, draping his heavily tattooed arm around you. You smile, grateful that he lied to save you from public humiliation. You were sure he was going to say someone who didn't look anything like you.

You're already dreading what the headlines tomorrow had in store. You and Bucky cuddled up on this sofa would no doubt be on every website. You should have lied, you tell yourself. People will start shipping you, his fans would be saying horrible things about you. You should have said anyone else.

Red Star took the stage to close the show. They were playing their latest number one hit. The audience was on their feet, some girls were crying as Loki's sultry voice came over the speakers. You watched Bucky closely. He played the drums like it was his life's purpose. He tossed the drumsticks in the air, pointing to you and winking as he caught them. It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

When their set was over, Bucky walked toward the dressing rooms with you, stopping outside yours. "Thanks for saying I was your celebrity crush back there. I would have been so embarrassed if you would have said somebody else." He flips his hair out of his eyes. "You don't have to thank me. It was the truth." You tell him goodbye, feeling awkward about the whole thing. You turn to go inside your dressing room to change into comfy clothes before you go back to the hotel.

Thick fingers catch your wrist, pulling you back toward him. "I wasn't ready to tell you bye." Bucky's lips curl, the light shines on his nose ring, bringing attention to his face. When you look into his shining blue eyes, you realize you don't want him to leave either. You grab the sides of his leather jacket, pulling him toward you. His mouth is on yours instantly. He presses you against your dressing room door, his large body covering yours.

You tangle your fingers in his long locks, needing him closer. Bucky hungrily kisses down your neck, while one hand travels under your dress. He rubs his thumb against your soaked panties. "All this for me?" You whine when he rubs harder, your clit making contact with the silky fabric. You move your hips, lost in the moment.

Voices echo down the hallway, bringing you out of your horny haze. "Bucky" You whisper, trying to warn him so he has time to stop before they see you. "Shh. I got you." He moves his body, so he is blocking you from view. His fingers are relentless, dipping inside your panties. His rough thumb rolls over your clit, you bury your face into his chest.

"Oh my God, It's Bucky! We are huge fans!" A woman's voice comes from behind him. You aren't brave enough to look, so you keep your face hidden. "Thanks guys. I love meeting fans. So, what's your favorite song?" You try to pinch him so he will get rid of them, but he continues talking about the world tour they are about to go on.

He enters you with two fingers, curling them as you moan out loud. The women look around him, finally noticing you. "Is she okay?" The second one asks. "Yeah, she's fine. She just ate too much so she has a stomachache." His fingers caress your inner walls, thumb rubbing in small circles. The band in your belly snaps, arousal flooding his hand as you come apart. Your legs shake, and you hold onto his arm to steady yourself. You clench your teeth to keep from making noise.

"You better get her inside; she can barely stand." One of the women says. They tell you both goodbye, as Bucky leads you inside your dressing room. "You did so good for me, but I need more." You look at him incredulously. He just made you cum the hardest you ever had in your life in front of two strangers and that wasn't enough.

Your legs are still trembling as he lifts you onto the vanity. Your back hits the cool mirror as Bucky slides your panties down your legs. His hot breath tickles your thighs as he lowers his face, pressing kisses to your inner thighs. He takes his time, nipping your sensitive skin. He licks a lazy stripe up your center, avoiding where you need him most. His tongue sinks inside you, firm nose pressing against your clit.

You cry out, head falling back, knocking into the mirror behind you. It bangs against the wall, hard enough to rattle the pictures hung there. Bucky drinks every drop of you, moaning as you writhe against his face. His plump lips fasten around your swollen nub, sucking and tugging like he can't get enough.

Your shaking legs close around his head, trapping him as you ride out your high. You cry his name, not caring who hears you. Bucky lifts you, slamming you against the wall. He holds you with one arm, the other works quickly to bring his pants down. His cock springs free, pink tip leaking. You swallow hard, intimidated by his size. "You're so big." You shiver, anticipation putting you on edge. He holds you, lining your bodies up.

"You can take it." He snaps his hips up, slamming into you. You try to adjust as he stretches you, wiggling around to see if the stinging will go away. When it starts feeling good, your arms wrap around his neck, holding on as he pulls out, leaving the tip in. He thrusts back into you, bottoming out. You have never felt so full, he fills every inch of you. He sets a steady rhythm, every part of him feels like it was made for you. You pulse around him, your back hitting against the wall as he sinks impossibly deeper.

Bucky bunches your dress around your hips, thick fingers digging into your skin as he fucks you. You try to meet his thrusts, but you're too weak from the explosive orgasms he already gave you. You hold onto him as he uses your body, his ragged breath on your neck brings forth the familiar pressure in your lower stomach.

"You're doing so good. Fuck! You take me so well." He praises, moving your thigh higher up his torso. He holds it in place, tilting his hips. The new angle makes your vision blur as he deliciously drags against a place you were sure was a myth until this very moment. Your nails dig into the back of his neck as you shatter around him.

Bucky's thrusts grow brutal, taking what he needs from you. "Oh fuck" He moans as he spills inside you. For a moment, you just look at each other, trying to catch your breaths. Thankfully, he knows you can't stand on your own, so he carries you to the sofa. Your dress is still around your waist, arm over your eyes. You can already feel a dull ache in your stomach where he had been just moments ago.

"Do you mind?" Bucky asks, pointing his phone toward you. You narrow your eyes, not understanding. "You're just so fuckin' hot and I wanna remember this." He says, his meaning finally dawning on you. You nod, almost too tired to speak. He angles his phone camera toward you. "Fucking perfect." He examines the photo he just took before showing you.

Your hair is disheveled, giving you the appearance of being caught in a windstorm. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes blown wide with lust. The top of your dress barely contains your breasts. The bottom is by your hips, your exposed cunt glistening with his cum. Bucky set the picture as his phone's background. You protested because you looked like a mess. Bucky stopped your arguing with a kiss. "You know what you look like?" He asks, smiling wide as he turned his phone screen toward you. "What?" You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling insecure. "Mine."

Tags

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[sukirichi]

WHEN I SEE YOU AGAIN | G. SATORU x READER

You’ve been pretending not to see ghosts your whole life in order to blend in perfectly, but you can’t ignore the cute ghost with a bright smile standing in front of your door.

cw. ghost! gojo. fem! reader. minimal fluff. graphic depictions of murder. angst. hurt no comfort. mentions of grief. mentions of being under the influence (alcohol and drugs.) characters with depression. unedited.

notes. wrote a lil something for gojo since it’s been a while since i wrote any jjk fics and i missed it :( also should i open requests again? i miss writing one shots lol

wc. 7k

You met him on the first night of winter.

Eager to get home after a long and tiring day at work, you blow hot air on your freezing palms to keep them warm before stuffing it deep in your coat pockets. The walk home was less than fifteen minutes, and you’ve always refused to buy a car because you enjoyed the journey and wanted to familiarize yourself more with the city. You previously lived in the outskirts, but after a phone call from the main department telling you you were promoted and had to transfer in the city, you found yourself packing up on the weekend and renting a cheap apartment.

Located in the middle of everything – convenience stores, medical facilities, popular bars, and a quaint looking flower shop with a cute florist – you thought your apartment was perfect. It was a little shabby, you had to admit. The plumbing didn’t work well and electricity got cut off at random times in the night that resulted in a headache because you couldn’t send that damn email, but the landlord offered an extremely cheap rent that you couldn’t refuse. Plus, it was only a few minutes walk from your office and your neighbors were peaceful.

Well, most of them anyway.

Your neighbors consisted of mostly old couples who were so silent and desolate that you often forgot they existed, your eyes widening whenever you saw an unfamiliar old lady walking and asking you how your day was before realizing, Oh, she’s Mrs. Oliver, I completely forgot. Save for the married couple who were always throwing pots and pans at each other because darn Ronald couldn’t put the toilet seat back down, your place was placid. The landlord was ecstatic when you saw her poster and inquired for a unit, muttering something about not getting enough tenants to keep the place going because of ‘a traumatic issue.’

You’d really rather not ask what it was.

Besides, you’ve never been curious enough of what the world has to offer, simply because you see things – or rather fragments of people – that you’d rather not see. Ever since you started seeing ghosts at a young age of four, people avoided you like the plague, calling you a ‘freak’ and whatnot. Your family soon moved away to a much smaller place in the city because they couldn’t handle seeing their child who often talked to ghosts and sat in corners alone while laughing by herself be criticized by others. They didn’t believe you, of course, often calling it a ‘lonely child’s imagination.’ They sent you to multiple therapists who always assured you that they would listen to whatever problems you were having to cause you to be this way.

Unfortunately for them, there wasn’t anything wrong with you. You weren’t lonely at all. You saw a dozen ghosts every day who were always ecstatic at finding out you could see them, and they were more than willing to interact. As a child, you always thought ghosts were more interesting than actual people because they had an unlimited amount of time to converse with you, and they have had so many experiences to share with you. 

When you grew older, however, you started to see yourself in other’s eyes, realization dawning on you that on social norms, you are, indeed, a freak.

Determined to fit in more and also sick of being faced with countless counselors who strongly believed you had a traumatic experience when your whole life has been nothing but bland and plain, you started ignoring them. It wasn’t easy at first, though. These ghosts have always kept you company while everyone gave you the side eye without knowing who you really were, and you admit you felt lonely in the beginning and a little guilty when they were convinced you couldn’t see them anymore.

You participated more in school activities and even joined a photography club in high school (you had to quit a month later because ghosts kept appearing on your photos, and you had to burn them in order not to freak anyone out) and with each baby step you took, you started to fit in more. The proud look your parents had on their faces when you had finally become ‘normal’ and even got an award for being an exemplary student was enough to keep you going on this journey, and you ignored the lonely spirits so hard that you eventually started seeing less and less of them.

Until now.

Standing in front of your door was a young man, his back awkwardly bent and long, beautiful fingers fiddling awkwardly with one another. He stood barefoot yet wore a comfy looking blue university hoodie and grey sweatpants, and his silver hair seemed shiny and healthy enough to  not consider him a homeless man who was lost and simply wandering. Tipping your head to the side, you rack your brain to remember if you had any neighbours like him. 

His head snaps in your direction. 

He is definitely not your neighbour. You would have remembered such a cute looking guy.

He had unnaturally ethereal futures, prominent cheekbones becoming more pronounced when you meet his eyes, and you blink to gain control over your body when you realize you’ve been staring too long than what would be considered acceptable. You don’t even deny you’ve been checking him out, although you do ignore the almost puppy-like way his eyes lit up at the sight of you, causing your heart to jump a little. Just a little. You also liked how his hair complimented perfectly with his pale skin – he seemed like an exact embodiment of winter. 

You walk forward, spinning your keys at the end of your pointer finger. Smiling at him politely, you paused in your tracks. He’d been blocking your door. “Hello, is there something I can help you with?”

No matter how cute he was, you wouldn’t hesitate to break his nose if he was a criminal.

His pretty hands come up to his face to cover his mouth falling open, and you take a step back when he does a little jump and starts laughing. “You can see me?”

“Uhm, yes,” you answer. “You’re blocking my door, so yeah, I can very much see you.”

As if realizing just now he stood in the way of you and your comfortable bed, who was calling out to you by now, he mutters a quick apology under his breath before stepping aside, a goofy grin remaining on his face and his childish behavior makes you scoff in amusement. He was still watching you even after you’ve unlocked your door, and you sigh at him. “Is there any reason you’re still standing outside my apartment, or should I call the police?”

Instead of looking worried like you expected him to, his smile only gets bigger. “Actually, I live here, well… I used to.”

You stare at him blankly with a slack expression on your face, watching as his features turn sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. Looking down on his bare feet, you mumble a curse under your breath when you realize he’s hovering. 

“Not again,” you say to yourself before placing a palm against your forehead. It’s been years since you last saw a ghost, why did you have to see them now out of all times? A new branch is opening up and your superiors have given you the project of making sure the launch goes well, and you didn’t really want a ghost bothering you with your biggest task of all time. You worked hard for this promotion, you didn’t want to take one step forward and two steps back. Glaring at the undeniably attractive ghost who still hovered in your doorway, you decided he wasn’t your problem. 

“Well, goodnight.”

You slam the door on him and trudge towards your bedroom, ignoring his “Wait!” as you unwrap the red scarf around your neck and plop on your bed almost lazily, moaning when your stiff muscles finally relax. The bed was so soft and warm because you’d left the heater on accidentally, and you’re about to be sent to dreamland when a voice beside you speaks up.

“You should take off your makeup before going to bed.”

Opening your eyes and coming face-to-face with the ghost who was resting his chin in both of his hands and laying on your bed, you grab a pillow and throw it at him, and he grins when the object goes past him completely. “Get out of my house, stop bothering me!”

“Technically, darling, this is still my house,” he tells you and starts sitting up before crossing his legs. “The unit was still named after me before you came.”

“Then why wasn’t I informed about that?”

“I was murdered here four years ago,” he deadpans, soft voice flitting into a murmur as he plays with his fingers again, refusing to look at you. “That’s why I never left. Judging from what you said earlier, you can see ghosts, and you know exactly why we’re still here.”

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you stumble over your words. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know and–”

“It’s quite alright,” he shrugs. 

Silence soon joins the two of you; the ghost playing with the ends of your blanket with a far-off look in his face while you study his features, and something tugs at your heart. The reason why ghosts remain here instead of passing on like they were supposed to was because it meant someone was still holding on to them and absolutely refused to let go, or if they had unfinished business that needed to be resolved before they could go in peace. You’ve met ghosts like him who were murdered, and all of them remained with a seething rage and insatiable need for revenge, unable to accept that there wasn’t much they could do in their state. 

As for the one sitting in your ghost, a small smile tugs at the end of his pink lips as he takes in your bedroom, amusement dancing in his eyes at the amount of stuffed animals you had and some framed photos of you as a child. 

“You decorate much better than me, and you’re a lot more organized, too. This place was such a mess back when I was still alive.”

There was an unmissable hint of sadness behind his voice, and you can’t help but ask his name. “I’m Satoru,” he grins, “and for the record, I’ve always been here, just floating through time and space, but not the afterworld yet. For some reason, ever since you arrived, I just appeared back where I left off.”

You nod and take in his words, noticing how he clears his throat and sends a sheepish look your way. “If it’s not too much of a bother, can I ask for your help?”

“What is it?”

He stands up and heads toward your desk, although you supposed it was his since the furniture had already been here before you came. You didn’t think too much about it back then and only felt grateful that you had one less piece of furniture to buy, especially since it was empty. Apparently not, because Satoru keeps digging around through your files with his tongue peeking out his lips, and you vaguely recall that ghosts are able to touch things after feeding off of energy from living beings.

Letting out an ‘aha!’ when his hand finally lands on what he’s looking for, he tenderly places a photo on your outstretched palm with a shy smile. Inside the photo was a beautiful man, probably in his mid twenties, his hair up in a messy bun as he grinned at the camera. Beside him, Satoru’s eyes are closed with his head thrown back in laughter, relishing the feeling of that warm sunny day, and you unconsciously frown at it.

“His name’s Suguru,” he began, his eyes turning glossy at the sight of the polaroid. “He was my best friend before I died.”

Pursing your lips and feeling the tension thicken the room, you ask him, “Why are you telling me this?”

“He’s the reason why I can’t go,” he admits, shoulders dropping while his eyes remain trained on her. “He blames himself for everything and refuses to accept that I’m gone, that’s why I’m still here.”

You remain silent and take a deep breath, your head pounding at the situation. It was a beautiful first night of winter, the perfect weather for you to do your work from home while nestling a cup of hot cocoa in your hands, yet it seems your plans changed and you have to help this ghost out. A part of you wants to reach out and embrace him in a hug, but you know you’ll only end up stumbling on your own feet and clearly, Satoru wants to move on to the next chapter of his journey.

“Can you please tell him I’m okay now?”

When he looks at you like that, shoulders hanging low and an almost shy smile decorating his innocent features, it’s hard to say no.

“I will.”

Through the past few weeks since you’ve met Satoru, your life seemed to light up like a Christmas tree without you noticing. He was a funny guy and often pulled pranks on you, like slamming the cabinets open and closed or leaving your window open in the middle of the night, laughing when you shout at him as your teeth chatter and you slam your windows shut. 

“I could have died from the cold, you idiot!”

He keeps laughing as if he didn’t nearly kill you with hypothermia, “Well, if you die, I guess we’ll be together then,” and even has the audacity to wiggle his eyebrows. You scowl at him and pull your jacket closer to your body, asking what he wants from you because he never goes this far to demand for your attention unless he wants something from you.

“What do you want this time?”

“I wanted to finish that series we were watching the other day,” he pouts rather childishly, “You always tell me not to watch it without you.”

On a particular weekend where you felt like your brains were about to explode from exhaustion due to your work piling up, you refused to wake up until noon, and you felt thankful Satoru knew how tired you were and let you have your much needed rest. When you woke up, a bowl of cereal was already waiting for you in your kitchen island, meaning the reason you felt tired even after that long slumber was because he fed off your energy to give you food.

Feeling thankful for the simple, sweet action, you munched on it happily. It wasn’t anything special and the corn flakes had gone too crusty for your liking, but Satoru’s happiness at you appreciating what he prepared was worth it. After breakfast, you dumped the bowl into the sink and planned to wash it later, opting to flick through Netflix for a good show. Satoru had excitedly pointed at one title that he said he’s always wanted to watch, and the two of you became hooked on it soon enough. Lunch and dinner were both forgotten as you two sat beside each other, your leg against his. Although you couldn’t exactly feel him, his presence was warm.

You and Satoru had been so immersed in the show and unexpected turn of events that time flew by and it was already half past three. He was the first to notice and he jumped from his seat, his hands waving worriedly in a comical manner. “I’m so sorry I made you skip your meals! Aren’t you hungry, you should have some pizza delivered or something.”

Glancing at the clock, you hummed when you realized it was indeed late. You weren’t feeling hungry since you were mostly abeyant, and nothing was open to deliver food around this time anyway. “It’s okay,” you shrug, “I’m not really hungry, and that show is addicting. Oh, and don’t watch it without me! I know you always go ahead when I’m not home!”

Satoru huffs and plops down next to you dramatically, rolling his eyes and taunting you. “Then don’t go to work, Little Miss Manager.”

You poke your finger with his forehead but it only passes through and he laughs, “I need money to survive, idiot.”

“Whatever,” he dismisses and points to your bedroom. “You’ve still got to edit your final draft, so you have to wake up early. Go to bed, don’t worry about the dish, I’ll handle it.”

“Liar, you’ll only feed from my energy so you can play video games!”

“Hey, you can’t blame me!” He counters back as he proceeds to your sink and pumps out soap to the sponge, “You were the one who bought me that console!”

“Only because you kept whining to me how much you wanted it,” you retorted before yawning, and his eyes softened at the sight of you. He rarely gets to see you dressed so comfortably in a loose shirt, cardigan and pajama pants since you were such a busy woman whose fashion sense monotonously consisted of pearl white button-up blouses and knee-length pencil skirts. Prudish and preppy, he thought, but it suits you just fine.  

“You should sleep now,” he reminds you with a nod of his head back to your bedroom, and you obey, simply because your eyes were sore and tired from binge watching. You’re in the process of cocooning yourself under the covers when he calls out in a sing-song voice, “Thank you for the console, by the way. I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

“Shut up!” You scream, and his rambunctious laugh was the last thing you heard before your body wholeheartedly welcomed sleep. 

You’ve been thinking about that day ever since, the moment replaying over and over again in your head, successfully distracting you from focusing on your work. Even your co-workers have noticed that you’re lusterlacking lately, but how could you focus on anything else when you had a charming yet lonely ghost who was waiting for you at home?

For days on end, you can only think about the cheerful and carefree sound of his laugh as if he had so much happiness in his lithe body that he couldn’t contain. Your heart always got tugged in its heartstrings whenever you had trouble falling asleep and he sat beside you in your bed, singing you lullabies and caressing your cheek. You started to feel him now – the gush of air in your skin meant he was pressing onto you, and the more you got attached to him, the more you got confused with your feelings.

He never told you how he was murdered and you never asked, figuring it would be too sensitive for him, and your hands balled into fists each time you remembered he was dead. Satoru is such a precious person who only has too much love to give, and it was completely unfair and outrageous that his life was taken away from him in a single flash. You’ve done your research at work, and only a few articles came up regarding his death. The case remains a mystery and still unsolved until it was completely closed due to lack of leads or suspects, but the police force highly suspected someone had broken in and committed homicide without theft, since not a single belonging of him got touched. They concluded that the murderer was drunk and lost, because he was a well-loved person in their campus, and they couldn’t find anyone who could possibly harbor abhorrence for the sweet boy.

But most of all, a part of you wants him to stay. He frequently asks you if you’ve talked to Suguru, and you always denied it, making up an excuse about how he was hard to find because he graduated years ago. ‘He’s hard to find,’ you would tell him one day, and ‘He doesn’t have social media,’ the next. Even though he told you he majored in Forensics, you couldn’t find anyone in the city. 

It’s a half lie. You never found Suguru, because you never looked for him in the first place.

You know it’s selfish of you to be this way, because you know Satoru wants to move on. He doesn’t say anything about it and keeps laughing instead, but sometimes when he thinks you’re too immersed in your work to notice him, you look at him. Being around you only reminds him of what he no longer has, and one look at him has you knowing he was someone who loved life. Satoru loved to travel with his friends, and he still had so many dreams left unfulfilled that made him feel empty yet desperate to be in the afterworld.

However, it is hard for you to let him go. 

No matter how much you try to fit in, deep inside, you know you will always be too different from the rest. You still struggled with socializing and didn’t have a single friend yet a hundred acquaintances, and you never realized how lonely you were until he came. His smile lit up the whole room and his laugh was melodious, and you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who cared so much for you. He liked to play games and pull pranks on you quite often, but underneath all that lies a kind heart.

Satoru knows exactly when his jokes go too far and apologizes right away, promising not to do something to upset you again and always doing something entirely new to cheer you up. On nights where you’re feeling absolutely drained or you carried home your anger at your co-workers, you go to sleep without taking off your makeup. When you wake, there’s used wipes in the bin, the hovering boy in your apartment proud of his work. Sometimes you forget to cover yourself in blankets too, plopping on top of the sheets almost lifelessly. It’s in those times that he shows how much he cares for you, and you soon wake up feeling warm surrounded by heavy blankets and freshly cooked breakfast.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were falling for him. It made interacting with him difficult, because you knew you had to let him go, yet you couldn’t.

He watches you carefully and gauges your reaction, waiting to see if you’ll finish the series with him or not. It’s a Wednesday night, or more accurately an early morning on Thursday and the launch happens in less than a week. Logically, it is much better to go back to sleep and refuse, but he is rocking his weight on his heels back and forth, and you realize perhaps he has been lonely since his death too.

“Fine,” you agree, and now he’s bouncing excitedly next to you on your couch as he keeps pressing buttons in your remote.

“You’re the best, you know that?” 

You only hum in response, and Satoru soon becomes lost in the show. Your eyes aren’t focused on the screen – on him rather. Placed on top of your fist lies your cheek as you study his side profile, trying to memorize the slope of his nose and the snow-white hair that keeps falling onto his eyes that makes him flip it to the side every now and then to watch the show. His right leg keeps bouncing up and down, a habit he had when he was anxiously anticipating something, and then stopping before his left leg went bouncing instead, meaning he didn’t like the situation.

Tearing your eyes away from him, you smile sadly when you realize his favorite character had been betrayed. “Did you see that? That freaking woman, he only loved her and she snitched him out like that?!”

Shrugging one shoulder and feeling your eyes become droopy, you reply, “Well, he’s a grave robber, Satoru, he was only nice to her because he liked her. She had every right to mislead him.”

“I don’t understand, but okay,” he relents and leans back, eyes closing before he intertwines his hands behind his neck and murmurs, “I hated the ending.”

“Not everyone gets happy endings,” you add grimly, watching the muscles underneath his hoodie flex at your comment. The two of you remain silent for a few minutes, and plucking up the courage, you breathe in sharply before slowly lowering yourself until your head is on his shoulder. 

You keep yourself still in order not to fall, and your eyes remain fixated on his hand, silently yearning to be able to touch him. If he was alive, would his skin be as warm as his presence? His hand flexes and trails from his lap until it’s beside yours, and you hear him swallow audibly before locking your fingers with his.

A tear falls down your face. You could feel him. 

Satoru hums a familiar tune, and you chuckle happily when you recognize it’s the song he always sings to you to make you sleep, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on your knuckles.

His other hand tilts your chin upwards until you’re looking directly at his eyes. You hold in your breath, his lips only a centimeter away from yours. If you lean forward, you could kiss him… but you don’t. 

“Why are you crying?”

Because I don’t want you to go.

“Nothing,” you lie and offer a forced smile which he notices, but doesn’t comment about it. “I just feel happy.”

He nods slowly before leaning forward, and he gets so close that you can faintly see his freckles that dot across his cheeks lovingly, and your eyes flutter shut when his lips press against yours. Satoru sighs as if he’s been waiting too long to do that, and he is pushing against you so softly, so tenderly, that it almost fits the same atmosphere your heart creates. He is soft in everything he does, from his innocent features and smile that puts the stars to shame, to how he holds you and caresses you. His hand trails from your neck to pull you closer, and you moan when his tongue peeks out and playfully coaxes yours out to play. Tears are streaming down your face when you kiss him back slowly, tongues moving in sync as they danced harmoniously instead of battling each other for dominance. Caressing your face that fits perfectly in his hand, he brushes away your tears with the pad of his thumbs. 

A moment passes before you two are breathing heavily with your foreheads pressed against each other, and the silence is broken when he speaks, his voice coming out raspy and out of breath. 

“Suguru… has been struggling long before I died.”

“What?”

“My best friend… he got into a rough patch. Had troubles with his parents, went down the wrong path, and met dangerous people. I’d heard rumors he was going around skipping class and talking to people I’ve never seen before, but I chose to ignore it. Suguru would’ve told me everything once he was ready. And I was stupid, you know? I saw it. I saw how he stopped smiling, how he’d lost weight. How his eyes no longer looked happy,” Satoru’s hands trembled, the blue of his eyes hauntingly dark. “One night, I overheard him talking to someone on the phone. I’ve never heard him that angry, and I got worried. I wanted to stop him from whatever he’ll end up doing so I invited him over but… Next thing I know, he came over here, drunk and high, and stabbed me until I bled to death.”

You gasp and shudder as you imagine the scene, Satoru lying on his bed as he waited anxiously for his friend. You see him smiling at Suguru excitedly because he’d actually come, but fear replaces it when his friend succumbs to the madness. The image of Satoru drowning in his own pool of blood made you clench your jaw.

“There had to be evidence left.”

Satoru smiles sadly as if to tell you it doesn’t bother him anymore, but you can’t shake it off. How can a man be so blinded in his own misery that he could take his own best friend’s life? “He was a forensics major; he knew how to cover up his crime.”

A pregnant pause fills the room as you furrow your brows, the sound of the cold wind tapping against your windows as you rack your head to make a decision. Now that you knew the truth, you had to tell the police about it, but how would they believe you if there was no evidence found? And if the case was cleared, and Suguru had finally moved on, that means...

“You can ask me to stay.”

“What?” You breathe out, looking at his eyes with sadness pooling in them. He’s smiling, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You pull away from him completely until he’s at an arm’s length away. He doesn’t look hurt by your action but he sighs, reaching out for you and pausing with his hand mid-air when you raise a palm to stop him.

He must’ve known you’re in love with him. Just as he also knows that once he leaves, you’ll be hurt, and he doesn’t want you to feel that.

You shake your head and stand up harshly. The tears now uncontrollable as you slam your bedroom door to his face. You’re slightly thankful he doesn’t come after you and leaves you alone instead. You needed time. Time to think, time to put his needs over yours - time to forget him. Rummaging through the documents on your desk, you keep looking for it until the polaroid is clutched between your fingers, and you silently place it in your handbag.

Tomorrow, you would set things straight.

Suguru Geto was a hard man to find. He’d fled from the spotlight as one of the  best students of his university after Satoru Gojo’s death. The image of his best friend, who was always in high spirits and laughed without a care in the world, covered in his own blood was a sight that scarred him for the rest of her life. 

But there was one more person who hadn’t moved on from that night.

Ieri Shoko, the woman who ran first at the hospital when Satoru’s parents were away for a business trip. She didn’t want to believe it at first. Satoru had always seemed so full of life, so in love with what the world had to offer. He’d been so young – it just couldn’t be. They had to be lying, right?

But when she finally saw her friend’s bloodied corpse on that cold hospital bed, she’d fallen apart.

She went to sleep crying to herself every night, regretting and blaming everything on herself. Her instinct told her it was Suguru who had done this to him. She barged into his dorm room, screaming and flailing, punching the taller man and effectively breaking his nose as she dragged him down by the collar. Suguru was already questioned by the police after Satoru’s murder, but his alibi of being in a bar was factual, and they had proven his innocence after checking surveillance cameras. He was only gone for a few minutes before he appeared on the dance floor all over again, and they believed him when he said he only disappeared to go to the restroom.

Presumably to wash the blood off his hands.

Shoko didn’t believe it. “Tell me you didn’t kill him, tell me!”

Suguru growls, frustrated at her for even accusing him of doing such a horrendous thing, and he feigns his innocence as he pries her hands away from his collar. “I didn’t do it, Ieri, I was at a bar!”

“Bullshit!” She screams, slamming a vase onto the floor and dropping down to the floor as sobs wrecked through her body. “I smelled your perfume the moment I walked in. I know it was you…”

His eyes widened, but he remained silent because she had always been smart and too observant for her own good. He shrugs his collar back into place and goes back to his bedroom, but not before darkly muttering, “I didn’t do it, I didn’t kill him…”

Four years later, and you’re sitting in front of Officer Kento, an intimidating man with empty eyes staring at you hardly, his face devoid of any emotion. He’d been the same officer who worked on Satoru’s case before it was closed. “And why should I believe you? Ghosts don’t exist.”

You snap your head up from your lap to him and scowl, “I just want to help you here, Officer.  You need to re-open this case.”

He abruptly stands up and slams his palm harshly against the desk, his eyes filled with rage as he stares down at you. “You don’t think I haven’t tried before?!”

“Well then, try harder!” You fumed, standing up. “If you don’t resolve this case, he’s going to remain here forever, lost and nowhere to go. Do you really want him to suffer even after his death?”

“How am I supposed to believe everything you say is true?”

Plucking out their polaroid from your bag and shoving it to his chest, you watch as he crumbles piece by piece. He holds the photo tentatively before cradling it to his chest, and what you presumed was a cold-hearted man was actually just a lost person.

“I don’t know why you closed that case, but it isn’t over. He’s still here, and he needs our help.”

You turn away from him to give him peace and wrap your fingers around the doorknob, “Suguru Geto is out there walking freely. You can still make a difference, Sir. It’s not too late.”

Happiness was a concept you believed to be fleeting.

One moment, you are giggling with the ghosts who tell you funny stories and whisper mischievously in your ear the correct answers in your pre-school days, and the next moment you are pressing a hand against your car windows, watching as the only people you considered friends are witnessing you leave without a goodbye.

That feeling comes back again and again, from little moments such as eating lunch with your high school friends and making empty promises to keep in touch after graduation, giggling when a cute boy comes by and asks for your number. But like any other moment in your life where you feel happy, that feeling dissipates as fast as it came.

The bell attached to the door chimes to signal a customer, and the cute florist you met on the first day you moved to this city, Choso, looks up from the pot he’s currently watering. Bowing politely, he sends a pleased smile upon the sight of you.

You tuck a stray hair behind your ear and return the smile back, his musky perfume blending in well with the sweet aroma of flowers as he stops in front of you. “Hi, I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, “Our latest branch just opened downtown, so I was a bit busy with that.”

“Oh, you work for that bookshop everyone’s been talking about non-stop?” You nod and laugh at his question, proud of yourself that the new opening had been successful. The state campus was only three bus rides away, and with the extensive amount of books your bookstore offered, along with its affordable prices, everyone’s been talking about it. “I’m proud of you, it was a success,” he commends, rubbing his dirties hands on his apron before opening the door for you. What can I get you?”

Personally, you thought Choso was a bit too rugged to be working in a floral shop. He always seemed to carry himself in such an awkward manner and had an authoritative yet welcoming aura to him, his shy smiles the highlights of your day. “I want to give it to my friend. Today’s their special day.”

“I see,” Choso’s eyes are already scanning the plethora of flowers he has in his shop, his brows pinching together in thought. “Can you tell me a little bit about them? It’d help to make their bouquet more personal.”

A smile makes its way to your face. “They’re… bright, carefree, innocent, and pure. They almost seem like an angel, if you ask me. I was also thinking about something that represents young love, and… new beginnings?”

You have absolutely no idea what you’re saying. The words coming out of your mouth are beyond your control. You’re sure you’re making a fool out of yourself, but Choso nods understandingly, frows burrowed before he snaps his fingers and turns to you. “White roses describe all of those, but if you want, I can whip up more flowers for you.”

He makes a move to get his scissors and starts listing off flowers with the same meanings, but you run up to him and not so accidentally wrap your hands around his to get him to stop. His eyes widen at your close proximity. You clear your throat and take a step backward, fighting the urge to smile when his cheeks are dusted a fine pink. “White roses itself are fine, thank you.”

He gulps and heads towards the back door, coming out later with a bouquet of white roses. You reach for your wallet before his arm wraps around your wris, his smile wobbly and hesitant. “It’s on the house. You can pay me back with a cup of coffee next time.”

Eyebrows rising at his smoothness, you gratefully accept the flowers and cradle it near to your chest. “A cup of coffee it is.”

Choso chuckles shyly and ducks his head, and you leave the shop with a wave of your hand before walking further and further. Your surroundings shift from the high-rise building and busy streets to a hill covered in trees sprawled out everywhere, flowers blooming and withering at every corner. Sitting down on the soil with your legs crossed, you place the bouquet in front of his headstone, his framed polaroid with Suguru standing in front of you. 

It’s been exactly seven days since you last saw Satoru.

After countless sleepless nights of phone calls from Officer Kento, he’d finally cracked the case with your help. Suguru Geto was found. He’d confessed to all his crimes, his handsome face weary yet relieved. It seemed he’d never once forgotten about that night when he betrayed his friend, and just before he was ushered behind bars, he turned to you. You wished you felt anger towards him for what he did, but there was only sadness. Only regret in his eyes. He looked so tired, so hopeless.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “Thank you for finding me.”

A nod was all you could give. Suguru felt so familiar, yet so strange. You’ve heard tons of stories about him from Satoru, all about their happiest moments together. He’d been his closest friend, the one he shared so many dreams with, and the one who knew him the most. Maybe he knew Satoru wouldn’t fight back once his demons consumed him. Maybe when Suguru was holding his friend’s bloodied hand in the night, he knew – Satoru was never mad at him. He only wanted to save his friend. Maybe he knew Satoru wasn’t completely dead yet, not when he lived in everyone’s heart, and most especially yours.

That night when you returned home, the apartment felt colder than ever. Normally, it would mean a ghost lingered. But there was no longer the sound of Satoru’s humming, and the dishes were left half-washed in your sink. And for the first time in your life, you hated your eyes and how it gave you the ability to see the traces he left behind. 

Because you wished you had enough time to say goodbye. You wish you had told him everything, but the thought of being another tether to the living realm weighed down on you. You couldn’t do that to him. He had to go. For Satoru to truly move into the next life, you had to close your heart and forget him. Just as Suguru’s forgiven himself, and just as Shoko’s accepted her friend’s death - you too had to say goodbye. 

Tears clouded your vision.

The white remnants of his soul sparkled in your apartment. For the last time, you watched as the blue of his hoodie finally disappeared, his hands scrubbing your dishes away fading into nothingness. The plate drops and breaks. Satoru stood, his legs vanishing bit by bit as he saw the running water through his hands. He’d wanted to return your apartment to the way it was before he’d met you, but he knew – his time was running out. He didn’t have energy left to turn everything off.

The water floods your apartment. The new series he’d dearly loved still plays on the TV. 

But he was here – hugged by the earth and decorated with flowers, smiling at you from far away even when you could no longer see him. Placing the bouquet of white roses down at his grave, you smiled at the photo they’d taken months before he died. He still looked just as beautiful – all wide smiles, kind eyes, and soft hands.

To you, he was still alive in your heart.

“I’ll see you around, Satoru.”