#mangle in particular

[tagidearte-spam-sb]

Screenshots from Dawko's video on the FNAF 2 Movie Set!

It's looking great. The window! THE WINDOW! FNAF 2 is my favourite game in the series, so seeing this all coming together is sparking deep joy within my heart.

[vaguely-concerned]

every so often mikey manages to sneak a patented Gricko Mispronounciation-cum-Occasional Malapropism TM past my mental defences that takes me by surprise and lays me out for like half an hour after

[businesstiramisu]

#this is why it's useful to distinguish between systems of cladistics and taxonomy#because they are categorizing the same things using different criteria which makes them useful different fields of research!!!#CLADISTICS sorts based on shared ancestry TAXONOMY sorts based on shared characteristics. so the definition of WHAT IS A FISH#changes based on WHAT SORTING SYSTEM YOU USE (via pillars-of-salt)

....oh should I not be tagging all of these #taxonomy?

*checks wikipedia for a 10 minutes* nah I think i'll stick with that tag

Thanks for pointing out the difference though @pillars-of-salt! Also you got Viva la vida by Coldplay stuck in my head again, lol

as funny as it is to say, "theres's no such thing as a fish" is not actually true

"science doesn't know what a fish is" is really not true

"fish" is not a monophyletic category. there is no common ancestor of everything that we call a "fish," and none of the things that we don't

"fish" is a paraphyletic category -- and a useful one! marine biologists use it! "fish" describes a general body plan and lifestyle. it is useful to be able to talk about coelacanths and tuna in a shared category, though coelacanths are more closely related to us than to tuna.

where this bugs me is the repetition of the idea that "scientists" are hidebound and uncreative, unable to comprehend anything that doesn't conform to a specific idea of categorization -- when this is fundamentally untrue! we know perfectly well what a "fish" is. the fact that it's a paraphyletic group is only confounding to pop science, as a funny factoid, not to anyone who actually understands what a paraphyletic group is.

[bi-writes]

ghost is such a daddy, isn't he? ;) too bad he's such a dick. (18+)

but it's hard to find a donor. you've been single for practically your whole life, it's the whole reason you're looking to just get pregnant by yourself. you don't need a man--you can walk into a clinic and pick from their little flip book.

but none of them fit what you're looking for. too short, hairline too far back, you don't care for the look in their eyes or the occupation they chose or their descriptions of how much they like model trains and reading george orwell every christmas. they're john does in different colored suits, and they reek of entitlement and the need for perfection and lack the individuality that you crave.

not special, no--you're looking for an edge. and none of them have it.

you're glaring at your lieutenant from three hundred yards away when your eyes soften with realization. ghost is such a bastard to you; he snaps at you easily, uses his obvious stature to overpower you in the most inconvenient of situations, and he always turns his nose up at you for being even slightly less than perfection, just a smidge off your target or just below your personal record.

he demands more of everyone he commands, but you in particular he likes to pick on. you used to think it was because you were the only woman around, but that wasn't it. ghost isn't a misogynist, he's just a right asshole.

but a gorgeous one. not in the way he looks, per say, because his face isn't all that pretty. you've seen his face, glimpses of it, enough to put the puzzle together in your head. he wears mangled skin, torn apart at the seams and scarred to high hell, but ghost is more than just stitched together skin.

he's huge. large and so fucking well in charge. he takes up space, and he does it with intent. spreads his legs when he takes a seat, crosses his arms over his chest when he's standing idly by. his expressions aren't visible under the mask he wears, but it is very obvious when he isn't happy. his glare burns through the fabric, dark eyes narrowed intensely; it is impossible to not understand when ghost is less than amused by you.

he's so capable. you've seen him take apart his gun and put it back together many times. big fingers sliding over metal and fastening it back together with practiced ease. you've seen him haul over two hundred pounds of man over a railing, seen him set up his sniper rifle and shoot a target more than a thousand yards away. he's smart, and he knows what he's doing, and even in the face of uncertainty and chaos, he's oftentimes the voice of reason in the field, and it's sexy.

god, he's so fucking hot. especially when he's rolling up his sleeves, showing off one sleeve of shitty military tattoos and telling the private that's practically in tears what a fucking muppet he is for assembling his standard issue pistol without a fucking magazine loaded into it.

that's what you want.

someone resilient. capable of overcoming tragedy, of finding purpose even when there really isn't anything to live for. the drive of bettering yourself, of not fucking it up, of being able to breathe easy and get out of a corner even when the path ahead is just more of the unknown.

unable to die.

"ever thought of being a father, lieutenant?"

he laughs, bitterly, licking the pad of his thumb before rubbing at a spot on the scope of his rifle.

"fuckin' hate kids," he mutters. "loud. dirty." he grunts. "besides. bloodline dies with me. don't need anymore fuckin' rileys mucking up this place."

you bite your lip. it's not the worst reason you've ever heard. it's just too bad he's exactly the kind of baby daddy you're looking for.

"that's too bad, lieutenant," you purr, standing up. you pass by him, your hips swaying and brushing against his shoulder. it's enough of a touch that his gaze follows you as you leave, his eyes flickering to the curve of your ass as you leave. "you'd make such a good daddy."

the fuck?

it's hard to focus. you keep bending over in front of him; dropping papers, picking things up, leaning over desks just to make his face twitch under the mask. you're constantly in his line of sight, wearing the tightest fucking shirts he's ever seen. cleavage on display, definitely a violation of protocols that no one is enforcing, and it's making his head spin as you lick chocolate off your fingers and swipe it off the curve of your breast. he thinks you must be mad when you make eye contact with him and keep it as you slip two fingers into your mouth and suck.

the worst was when he was stuck in the back of a humvee with you. the back was packed, soldiers pressed together as they rode back to base. he was sweaty and exhausted, leaning his head back as the truck rattled along the dirt road. on a particularly rough bump, you bounced into his lap, ass pressed back against his pelvis. on instinct, one gloved hand caught you by the curve of your waist, and you hummed as you leaned back against him.

"sorry, lieutenant," you had cooed, in that soft, honeyed voice he hated. "am i hurting you?"

"fuck you, sergeant," he had snapped, but his growl was cut short when you arched your back a little, nestling your ass against the fucking hard rock in his pants.

"just happy to see me then?"

acckkk, a fucking fiend, you are. pressing up against him when you slip into line in front of him in the mess hall. asking him for help because your aim is off, just to look at him from over your shoulder and give him that smile. the absolute doe eyes you give him when he berates you for the hundredth time that day, just for you to mumble back, "oh...yes, of course, sir..."

ngghhh...and he's thinking about you. thinking about smoothing a hand down your back as he bends you over a desk. thinking about what it would be like if you climbed over him on his cot and sat your fat ass down onto his face. thinking about the sounds you'd make, the big, wet eyes you'd give him, how good you'd look in his bed and wearing his clothes and cumming on his cock--

"the fuck are y'doin' ta me?" he growls in your ear. you blink up at him, tilting your head back, leaning against his door.

"johnny said you were training, so i thought i'd wait for you. got something real important to talk to you about."

you smile at him innocently, ducking under his arm as you slink into his room. when he shuts the door, you spin around to face him again, giggling.

"there's something i want."

"out with it."

"something i need."

"fuckin' tolk then, yeah?"

"want a baby, lieutenant."

"yeah, right mad about tha', luv."

"want your baby."

he laughs, humorless, "be fuckin' honest."

but you are honest. you're honest when you smile wider, and you're honest when you turn around. you're honest when you bend over onto your forearms against the cot in his room, and you're honest when you shimmey your trousers just low enough, right under your ass, showing off the wet cunt you've had since watching his arms flex as he stacked boxes after breakfast.

he steps forward, leaning over, smoothing two big hands up your plush thighs before spreading your ass, watching your little hole pucker. he smirks, chuckling low.

"'f y'want t'be a riley so bad, don't need to 'ave m'baby, swee'eart," he murmurs, but the echo of his belt undoing clinks in the room anyways. you squirm a little when you hear the zipper of his pants.

"but i want it," you whine, and you slide your arms out in front of you, pressing back against him as you grip the thin sheets on his bed. "i want it!"

"shhhhh," he scolds, gripping his cock with a calloused hand and shoving it between your thighs. you moan as he wets his cock along your folds, grinding slow, getting himself nice and slick. "y'want m'baby, swee'eart? wanna 'ave my cubs? gonna be bears, love. they're gonna split y'open, got such a little cunt."

you cry out, pressing back against him.

"want it! i want it!"

ghost chuckles again, laying over you, his weight pinning you down as he laces his fingers with yours. he's so big, you can feel him heavy and throbbing between your thighs. you need it, even if it doesn't take, even if he just takes you apart right now, you need it.

"you'll make such a good mama though," he mutters, mostly to himself. "fuck...you'll get so bloody nice and fat. nnghh..." he lets go of one of your hands to smack his paw against one side of your ass, gripping it tight and jiggling it. "every part of ya. right for the taking, luvvie. oll f'me."

he reaches down between you, notching the head at your entrance before sinking in easy. you're so wet now, dripping between your thighs, and he grunts as his hips meet your ass quick.

"tits'll get so big..." he smacks his lips together before giving you a heavy thrust. "fuckin' hell...takin' y'out afta this...gonna make you a fuckin' riley today. how's tha' sound, aye?"

you gurgle a little, a line of drool dribbling down your chin. he leans over, pushing his mask up, and he licks your spit off your face, his breath hot as he starts to pick up the pace, fucking into you quick.

"want y'just like this, every day," he growls in your ear. "in m'bed...spread out for me..." he sucks on the edge of your ear, making you cry. "gonna 'ave y'for oll three meals, swee'eart--fuck--until we know it takes."

you smile, your cheek smushed into the bed and rubbing raw against the sheets as he fucks into you from behind. his big hands squeeze your own, holding onto you tight, and you push back against him, your orgasm coming unexpectedly as he babbles in your ear about your tight cunt, your pretty face, the perfect place for him to empty his cock. it makes your vision go white, but you don't feel satiated until he holds his hips against you from behind and curses as he spills inside.

so creamy, slick and soft, but he refuses to waste a single drop. he keeps his pelvis against you, wrapping a forearm around your waist and yanking you up until your back meets his chest. you giggle, dizzy and a little drunk, leaning your head back against him.

"knew you'd fuck me," you mumble, sticking your tongue out, not satisfied until he leans down and kisses you, sucking your tongue into his mouth and kissing you wet and sloppy. he laughs, his chest rumbling, and you put your hands over his, scratching along his skin as he licks into your mouth.

"tha' right, luv? why's that?"

you giggle. "because i always get what i want, simon."

next

[ladybirdswritings]

LITTLE WITCH, FIC — xaden riorson x reader.

DESCRIPTION: you wake— a captive girl with untamed power and no recollection of its origins. before you is a scarred, shadowy figure, whose taunts ignite your abilities—binding your fates in a dangerous encounter. NOTES - fourth wing fic !! leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | next part

two;

“What are you doing?” Your voice trembled, unsteady—a ballerina with mangled feet, poised yet painfully unnatural.

Xaden’s lips twitched, the faintest ghost of a smirk, as his fingers grazed the mahogany brush in his grasp. He didn’t answer, his dark eyes narrowing as he closed the distance between you. He seemed amused by all of this, or perhaps prideful.

You sat there, unchained but weak-hearted—though he had kept his promise. You were unchained.

Unchained and seated on an unfamiliar bed with grand, imposing posts and onyx-silk sheets. After an excruciatingly tense dinner, where every set of eyes at the table had cut into you like blades, Xaden had led you here. The silver-haired girl, in particular, had clutched her dagger tighter each time his gaze drifted toward your slouched figure.

Their whispers had danced around you like a ghostly waltz—sharp, feverish murmurs about your bruised wrists and hollow eyes. But you’d been too exhausted, too hollow yourself, to care. The soup in front of you had demanded all your focus.

You didn’t trust them. You didn’t trust him either—this man of shadows. Yet, inexplicably, he had fed you, given you a bed. And now he was… brushing your hair?

It was matted, straw-like, and stained with memories you couldn’t quite pluck free. The brush snagged against a knot, yanking sharply, and you winced. Xaden tensed, his patience fraying at the edges.

“I’m going to run you a bath,” he decided after a moment.

You didn’t protest.

He left, disappearing into the adjoining room, and when he returned, his outstretched hand was waiting for yours. Calloused, steady, and strangely anchoring. Against your better judgment, you placed your trembling palm in his.

“Come, little witch. If I wanted to bite you, you’d be bitten already.”

But as you rose unsteadily to your feet, his words stirred unease. He intended to join you.

The thought snagged on a sharp edge in your mind, but you were too weary to resist.

“Choose, Y/N,” a voice whispered from the corners of your memory, harsh and grating. “Kill him, and your power will be imminent.”

The agony hit like a tide, crashing over you until you clung to the onyx countertop for support. Xaden’s hands twitched at his sides, but he made no move to steady you.

When you raised your head, the mirror greeted you with a face that was hauntingly familiar: your own, but hollow, bruised, and unrecognizable.

“Y/N.” The name fell from your lips like a prayer, fragile and disbelieving. “My name is Y/N.”

Xaden nodded once, his towering presence unmoving.

“Yes, it is,” he said simply.

A flood of questions threatened to spill from your tongue, but you turned to him instead, accusation lacing your voice. “You know me.”

His expression didn’t falter as he began rolling up the cuffs of his midnight-black shirt, exposing veined forearms.

“No,” he said, his voice like gravel, “not personally.”

The irony wasn’t lost on you, given that he was about to bathe you. He looked at you expectantly, yet you made no effort to move. He needed to answer your question. You needed to know why.

“Strip,” he ordered, his tone firm but not unkind.

You remained still. His jaw twitched.

“If you’re going to sit there rotting in gods-know-how-long a time worth of grime, it’s going to be a great inconvenience for me. So you need to wash yourself— with or without my help. Your choice.”

Heat flushed your face, and the protest died in your throat. “Not. Personally,” you muttered under your breath, mimicking his earlier words. Were you to just sit wide eyed while he ran those awfully mangled hands down your skin? Your breasts, your— well.

For the first time, the corners of his lips lifted in genuine amusement. Slowly, he stepped forward, tucking a stray strand of your tangled hair behind your ear.

“Trust me, little witch. To me, you’re nothing more than a finely honed blade— sharp, useful, and exactly what we need to—” he stopped himself, and though you did not recognize much— you knew it was apprehension flashing in his eyes. “My desire belongs to the silver-haired girl downstairs.”

And your love, your mind supplied.

If that were true, why had they treated each other with such loathing at dinner?

Though Xaden’s words were an attempt at easing your hesitance— you still remained unmoving. Yet your prolonged silence seemed to unnerve him. He shifted on his feet before offering a compromise. “I’ll turn around.”

True to his word, he faced the wall, giving you the privacy to peel away the tattered cloth clinging to your starved body.

“Don’t turn around,” you whispered, tension straining your voice.

“I won’t,” he said softly, his shoulders rigid. “In the tub.”

The water enveloped you like an old lover, soothing every ache and gnawing pain. You curled into yourself, knees to chest, but when he turned back, the shadows didn’t entirely conceal you.

Xaden knelt by the tub, cupping water in his hands and letting it cascade over your hair. His touch was careful, deliberate, as he massaged circles into your temples. The silence between you was fragile but strangely comforting.

“You know of me,” you said at last, rephrasing your earlier accusation.

He hummed in acknowledgment, his hands moving with practiced precision.

“What am I?” The question hung between you, heavier than the steam rising from the bath.

Not who. What.

He paused, his fingers lingering on the sharp angles of your collarbone before he answered. “You’re very special.”

The words were maddeningly vague, but you didn’t have the strength to push. Instead, you murmured, “How did you find me?”

His hands resumed their work, scrubbing soap through your matted locks. This time, he didn’t pause.

“It took a very, very long fucking time.” He sounded exhausted at the idea of it.

“But you found me,” you pressed, desperate now. “Why?”

And then, the madness prickled at your very mind once more. Phantom voices humming… his voice— and his still lips. All within your head.

She doesn’t know her worth yet.

You think you do? This voice belonged to a woman.

She’ll learn soon enough.

Better hope she survives the lesson…

Before you had even a moment to ponder those ominous words, he tipped your chin upward, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“I told you, you’re special, little witch. But don’t make the mistake of thinking you know what that means yet.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in. But before you could respond, he draped a washcloth over your trembling hand.

“Wash yourself,” he said, his voice dropping an octave.

Your cheeks burned as you obeyed, turning your body away from him to complete the task. When you finished, exhaustion pressed heavily against your fragile frame.

You knew your name, but not your home. Your love, your family or friends. Did you have any? This cage with its high stone walls and scrutinizing creatures, it frightened you.

“Please,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision. “Help me understand. I—I’m afraid.”

His eyes raked over your expression for a long moment— a mixture of admiration and pity flaring within them. He cupped your face in one damp hand, his thumb brushing away the tear that slipped free.

“Stop crying. I’ll help you understand,” he said, his voice soft but unyielding. “And you’ll hate me for it. But make no mistake, little witch: what my rebellion does to you won’t be wasted. You’re a weapon, dormant for too long. It’s time to wake you up. It’s time to win the war.”

🏷️’s: @emryb

[bits-and-babs]

✦ 𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 ✦

simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader (delta) | smut, 18+ | 4.1k

summary: you, soap and gaz make a silly bet at ghost's expense for an invaluable prize.

cw: mw3 spoiler free. 141 ridiculousness, humour, attempts to remove the mask resulting in life threatening (not really) injury, mild exhibitionism if you squint, very talkative ghost, 'interrogation' wink wink, unprotected p in v sex, reference to f receiving oral.

ghost mlist | main mlist | taglist

"Y'know, I'm sure as shit that L.t's got brown hair," Soap pipes up in the middle of the silence that had settled inside the safe house. 

The members of Task Force 141 glance up one by one, querying eyes cast Soap's way as the guesstimated observation hangs in the air. It's louder than chopper blades, thudding against your skull and roaring in your ears as you attempt to recall the information you have on Ghost, what little physical attributes you can attribute to him. Each time, you hit a brick wall. The only image conjured in your minds-eye is the black voids of the mask's eyes and the piercing amber of his irises. 

The wind howls outside, battering the windows with Wyoming snow and creeping in through the cracks in the panes. It makes a yowling sound as it slips through the crevices, carrying your memories of Ghost's appearance with it. He truly was like an apparition, there one moment, then gone altogether. 

Gaz's brows crease in the middle, little crevices in the skin showing his mind working over the sentence. 

"He doesn't," he eventually retorts, eyebrow cocked while shaking his head, "He's blonde." 

"What makes you say that?" Price scoffs at his colleague's certainty, "You ever seen his face?"

The silence that follows makes the Captain chuckle. A wordless 'that's what I thought'. 

"You willin' to bet on that?" Soap pushes Gaz with a lopsided smirk. There it is, that ridiculous playfulness that the Scotsman continuously let slip over coms. Simon had once reprimanded him for how it would get him killed– you were almost certain if he continued down this path in particular, he'd be in a box by daylight.

"I am," Gaz counters thoughtlessly, a smug lilt to his tone as he leans the crown of his head back against the rotting wooden wall, "He's got blonde eyelashes. He's gonna have blonde hair."

"What're ya gettin' so close tae him for?" Soap grins wide, loading the new ammunition and hitting a bullseye on the first shot, "You been snoggin' him or somethin'?"

"Lads," Price warns. It's only one word, but it says a lot; 'he'll have your head.' All of you know Simon 'Ghost' Riley well enough to know it's not a joke. Seen enough of the mangled bodies he left behind to know it wouldn't be clean, either. More like he'd hack your skull from your neck, picking out the dullest blade that'd struggle to slot between vertebrae.  

"Bets on, then," Soap continues, white teeth gleaming in the low light, "First to confirm gets the honour of shootin' Hassan between the eyes." 

It's like throwing a match at a body doused in diesel. 

                           ✰

The parameters of this wager are as follows... First: the competition is between you, Soap and Gaz. Price was ruled automatically exempt the moment he admitted he had, indeed, seen Ghost's face. It was a revelation that caused quite a storm- and a promise from Gaz of £100 if he'd tell.

The Captain, quite frankly, told him where to stick it. 

Second: None of you could just ask Ghost himself. That was boring; no fun in that. 

Thirdly, there are no other rules. Acquire the information by any means necessary to claim victory. Perhaps this rule should have been revised- because to say that 141's tactics for getting Ghost to reveal his face were a little unorthodox is an understatement of the highest order. 

Despite his hulking frame, Ghost is like a cunning fox, cognizant of even the slightest changes in energy and hypervigilant of those approaching. The midnight void of his grease paint that frames his eyesockets contrasts the whites of his eyes as they dart back and forth between you all. He appears to have noted the devious scheming, practically hearing the cogs turning in your heads the moment he returned from his watch. Something is amiss, and you know Ghost knows it. 

He says nothing. 

Day One; the grumpy, black-clad special ops soldier sits back in his seat as he crosses his arms over his vast chest, cautiously observing the minute movements the three of you made. He'd bristled when Gaz stood from the sofa simply to enter another room, poised and ready to pounce at whatever fuckery the younger soldier would attempt. 

"Hey, L.t.," Soap's drawl cuts through the humorously tense atmosphere in the room, and you brace yourself for his master plan. "When was the last time ye got a haircut?"

Ghost hesitates. Waits a beat. The silence stretches almost uncomfortably until he answers, thick, bassy voice almost booming in the box room. "What're you playin' at, Johnny?"

Soap shrugs his shoulders, exuding complete nonchalance as he settles into the seat across the table from the hulking mass of man. "Just wondered if the mask ever came off. How do you cut your hair?"

Amusement ripples through you in the sound of a chuckle, both men glancing your way. Ghost peers at you, suspicion pooling thick in his pupils. 

"Shave it," Ghost rumbles bluntly, with an air of finality that leaves no room for argument or for Soap to encourage him to try something stupid like curtain bangs or, God forbid, a mohawk. 

You can't help but grin from ear to ear as you watch the Scotsman's shoulders slump in defeat, already waving a white flag upon seeing how unwilling Ghost is to play whatever stupid game you're all partaking in. Even you can't deny the anxiety that prickles across your nerve endings when you see the way Ghost's biceps flex beneath the camo fabric of his uniform, primed for action. 

When Ghost's aqua irises slide to you, your shoulders shrug comically, putting on the performance of your life to appear as though you had no idea what Johnny was up to. You see the way Ghost's blacked-out eyelids squint in suspicion. He doesn't believe you, but doesn't say as much. 

Day Three and the polite, roundabout tactics had been discarded in favour of the nuclear option. Gaz had tried ambushing Ghost in the shower, opening the door without knocking as if pretending he didn't know the Lieutenant was in there. The door slammed so quickly into his head that an egg had been steadily growing on his forehead for the past hour and a half, blood seeping from his almost certainly broken nose. 

"You'll stay out next time, Bravo 2-6, if you know what's good for you," Ghost had growled through the crack in the door before shutting it with a click of the lock. 

Holding his face and slinking away, mortally wounded, Gaz uttered a humiliated 'Yes, lieutenant'. 

Soap, clearly not having learnt from poor Gaz, decided that the next best option was a trip, so to speak. Executing a ludicrously overexaggerated stumble, Johnny reached out to grab Ghost's mask to 'steady himself' and ultimately drag it from his superior's head. 

Ghost had leapt from his seat with a roar, threatening to send Sergeant MacTavish back to Scotland in a box with the Saltire draped across the lid. The standoff only settled upon Captain Price's barked orders to stand down or hang up the uniform. 

By Day Six, Ghost had bruised your opponent's egos enough that neither Soap nor Gaz dared attempt to peek beneath the mask again. They look at you like you're absolutely bonkers when you finally announce it's your turn to try and tame the beast. 

"Yer fuckin' mad, hen," Johnny grumbled, watching you observe Ghost from across the room. He'd settled on a chair in the corner of the room, ensuring no one could sneak up on him. "You can't seriously be plannin' on-"

"I want Hassan," you shrug, a smile playing on your lips. Though, at this rate, you couldn't care less about the terrorist and the honour of dispatching him. No, Ghost had made this ridiculous game far more competitive than needed, and you planned to win.

"Have fun," Gaz scoffed bitterly, still icing the blotchy green and purple bruise that had welted on his forehead as a medal of dis-honour. You hadn't exactly helped the healing process, poking it harshly with the pad of your thumb as you laughed at his mortifying misfortune. 

You wait patiently for Ghost to move, like a stake out on a mission. Lying in plain sight in a ghillie suit, a sniper rifle pointed right between his eyes and your finger on a hairpin trigger. You wait for him to break, for exhaustion to creep in. Thankfully, you don't have to wait long. The Lieutenant rises from his chair, announcing to 141 that he's headed to bed. 

A quiet mumble of 'goodnight' from each member grants him leave, and Ghost walks out of the room without further word. You waste no time in hurrying to your feet. 

"Are you gonna...-" Soap winces when you stand, trailing off when you start after Ghost, not allowing either of your colleagues to talk you out of this suicide mission. 

Though, the moment you turn the corner, you wish you had. Ghost's broad frame practically fills the narrow hallway like someone had plucked Everest from Nepal and shoved its hulking mass into a matchbox. He's ginormous, his usually silent footsteps causing the aged, rotting wood beneath the soles of his boots to creak with the weight he applies when he turns to face you. 

The dark hallway obscures Ghost's skull-face mask, but a glittering reflection of the golden light bleeding from the bulb in the living room area flickers across the wet surface of his eyes as he observes you. You can't allow the weighty pressure of his stare to phase you if you're to push ahead with your plan- so you step forward, swallowing down the nerves that Ghost's attention inevitably dredges up. 

"Lieutenant, sir," you address him smoothly, voice low as you gaze up at him through your lashes. Ghost's eyebrow arches in response, noting your somewhat suggestive behaviour. "Permission to spea-"

"I'm hopin' you'll tell me what you're all up to," his eyes spear your nerve as he interrupts you, "They're not lettin' up, but I'll get it outta you one way or another." 

"What... Did you have in mind?" You chance, heart slamming up against your chest when you realise just how obvious you're being. It's dangerous- you hadn't planned to be so forward. The idea that he'd be able to read your flirting so soon set off mortars in your veins. 

There's a pause. It dizzies you, throwing your previously sturdy confidence off kilter when Ghost tilts his masked head slightly. He's turning it over in his mind, considering the past few days' events. Then, he turns everything on its side. 

"I know what you're doing," he speaks suddenly, the rich baritone of his voice ricocheting off the walls and ringing in your ears like he's just discharged a round of ammo with each syllable. You jerk upright, standing to attention. 

"I don't know what you m-"

"You want the mask off," he interrupts you again, cutting your pathetic excuse short as he steps forward. It's ridiculous, the sheer size of him as he looms over you. "You lot made a bet."

Another beat. Ghost waits for a response, an admission of guilt. It feels like he's cornered you; every answer that springs to mind is incriminating. You know he can see your rueful expression, wide-eyed and panicked by the ease with which he puts you on the ropes. 

"Was this your plan?" He murmurs, reaching to grasp your chin. His palm settles on the hollow of your jaw, fingers fanning out across the bone. "Get me into bed and see if I'll take it off?"

Trembling in his hold, you whimper as Ghost's thumb stretches across to trace the curve of your lip. It follows the delicate arc, lining the shape of your mouth and trailing the dip of your cupid's bow. 

"'M sorry," you mumble weakly, cheeks hot beneath his touch. Again, you fold beneath the intensity of those honeyed irises. It's a miracle your knees don't buckle when he pushes the pad of his thumb just past your lips, so that it brushes the edges of your teeth. 

"That was your plan. Y'can still give it a try, love. But..." he hums, his voice throaty and quiet and settling in the pit of your stomach. It's embarrassing, the ease with which he figures you out, but his words drip over you, easy and warm, and all you can focus on is the slip of his thumb as he presses the pad against the flat of your tongue. 

"The mask stays on." 

Ghost’s insistence makes you giggle sheepishly and your stomach flip in dread, like a child caught with its hand down a bear trap. Despite the lewdness of him pushing his thumb past your lips, you know that he’s being serious, deathly so. You nod clumsily in recognition of his executive order, and Ghost gently taps the skin of your cheek with his free hand, the soft slap of his palm against your flesh standing your hair on end.

“Go.”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, weighing heavily in the claustrophobic space of the small hallway. It takes a moment for your mind, rendered utterly useless by Ghost’s imposing presence, to understand exactly what he’s implying. Only when he removes his thumb from your mouth to shove you forward towards a bedroom door does his intention become clear.

Oh. Oh!

Scrambling to force your feet forward, they practically float across the threshold of the bedroom door. You can feel Ghost looming just behind you, can practically feel the heat radiating from his chest warming the expanse of your back. Fingers clasp over your shoulder, practically swallow the curved flesh, and shove you back against the bedroom wall.

The force of impact winds you, the air expelled from your lungs swallowed down by Ghost’s lips bearing heavily down upon your own. He’d ripped the mask upwards, the hem of the ski-mask balanced across the bridge of his nose. Simon’s tongue licks into your mouth– intrudes upon the space like he’s kicking down a door, like he’s swallowing the breath he’d expelled from you with his heavy hand. 

Once the dazed dizziness dissipates, you moan in relief at finally getting what you wanted. Ghost’s gigantic paw takes hold of your jaw in a firm grip to fit his mouth perfectly against your own, his swirling fingerprints indenting in the soft flesh there in a mottled bruise. The soft pine he coaxes from you bleeds past your open mouth despite your attempt to suppress the frankly pathetic noise. 

Fuck it, this was worth it– all of it was worth it. The fear of getting it wrong, the anxiety of being caught, the panic that Simon could turn you away… All of it seeps into the darkness in the corners of the room when your superior drags his tongue across your lower lip. It’s though he’s relishing in the taste of the aftershocks of the arousal he sparks between your legs, the dopamine that rushes through you.

“Was this your plan?” Ghost grunts, grasping ahold of the scruff of your neck. Gasping weakly, you’re almost certain your eyes roll back in your head when he uses his harsh grip to steer you towards the bed. “Get me out of my fuckin’ mind so I don’t notice you takin’ off the mask?”

“That’s–” you huff, rendered breathless by Ghost’s intruding tongue, “That’s not it–”

Your pitiful attempt to excuse yourself is made useless when Ghost practically launches you onto the mattress of his bed, the rusted metal frame screaming under the sudden weight of your body. 

“No?” he queries, the usual boom of authority in his voice replaced by something that sounds far more like goading amusement as he places the hefty weight of his palm against your sternum, holding you down and thwarting any attempt to escape. 

He needn’t worry. The last thing you wanted was to leave. 

“Tell you what,” he muses in that smug tone you always hear over the comms, his free hand quick to grasp at the leather of his belt. The buckle clinks in the quiet as he works his fingers over it, “We’ll run through this mission, yeh? See if you can complete your objective, Delta?”

Your retort, or lack thereof, dies in your throat when Ghost pushes his crotch into your own. If it weren’t for the yelp of bliss that the Lieutenant had to smother with his palm, you’d hear the way he’d practically purred when he dragged his cock against you. 

“C’mon then. Try it,” he urged. 

It’s pointless, his mock-support. You just desperately reach for the waistband of his khaki uniform trousers, cockdrunk from the tease of its shape against you. Even in the low light, you can see Ghost’s scarred lips, the way they stretch into a smirk at your desperation. 

“Abandoning mission, Sergeant?” He asks you, unzipping his trousers. “Price’ll be disappointed to know this is all it takes for Delta to go AWOL.”

“Shut up,” you moan into the cold air of the cabin. You can see your breath. “Shut up and fuck me.”

When Simon removed himself from his trousers, making some glib comment about you being demanding, you marvel at the size of him. Girthy, swollen, the ruddy tip leaks precum down the arch of his cock and traces the pulsing veins. He’s rock hard and throbbing, framed by a thatch of pubic hair. 

Fumbling with your own trousers, you awkwardly try to remove them given Simon’s weighty palm still pins you down by your sternum. He watches, a glint in his eye in the low light that would almost embarrass you if you weren’t so focused on the task at hand. 

“What was the prize?” 

“H-Huh?” you stall, mind fried by Ghost’s unexpected line of enquiry. He picks up where you left off, violently yanking your trousers down your thighs and pushing your panties aside to expose your glistening cunt to his prying eyes. 

“What. Was. The. Prize?”

You hesitate for a moment, feeling Ghost’s fingers press against the inside of your thighs as he probes this unexplored territory of you. His touch skirts the areas you want him most, teasing and goading you for more information. “H-Hassa-ahh!”

You barely manage the first syllable of your answer before Simon rests the arch of his cock against your slick pussy lips. His body jerks slightly at the heat of your swollen cunt, the ease with which he can slide himself through your drenched sex. 

“You got to kill Hassan?” he asked for confirmation, his voice unwavering. You wonder how he manages to stay so steady– you’re coming apart at the seams, trembling as the head of his cock bumps your clit clumsily. 

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes rolling back as he continues his laboured, steady torture. His free hand settles on your hip, arching your pelvis up slightly to meet his own. You grind your hips upward against his cock, and Simon expels a soft scoff from lungs, those piercing eyes settled on your contorting expression. 

“Mhmm,” he hums, rolling his hips again. This time it’s even slower, teasing. “A temptin’ reward–” 

Simon is interrupted by the moan that splits your lips when he drags the length of his cock heavily against your clit. It sparks arousal deep in your abdomen, clings to the inside of your thighs wetly. 

Perhaps the disturbance is one transgression too many tonight, because Simon grasps your hips so hard that you are forced to stop gliding over the length of his cock. You pine in protest, but you choke on the pitiful sound when Ghost suddenly plunges his cock inside of you. It spears you open, breaks you apart, and you find your back arching desperately against the mattress. 

The palm that had rooted itself to your sternum flies up to clasp against your mouth, smothering the shriek of bliss that threatened to expose your extracurricular activities to the rest of your squad. You sob through your teeth beneath his life line, tears welling in your eyes as you feel him stretch your walls open to make room for his intrusion. 

You can’t help yourself. You need something to grasp onto, and opt for his wrist above your face. Digging your nails into the inked flesh there, you watch as the pain sparks something dark and twisted in Simon’s pupils, his azure irises swallowed by the expanding blackness.

He likes it. You can tell. His cock arches up inside of you, pushing deep and rocking against something earth shattering inside of you. Damp with sweat already, the skin of his wrist ripples as he tightens his grip on your face, refusing to withdraw from your pussy walls and instead opting for sharp, shallow thrusts that push you up the mattress with each connection of your hips. 

“Fuck,” he spits, using his tight grasp to pull you back towards him. It’s obliterating you, ripping you apart and pushing all your pieces back together in a mangled, jumbled mess. You whimper as you suffer through his brutal pace, marvelling at how good it feels when he consistently spears your g-spot. 

“When would you have done it?” Simon asks you, a little breathless now as he chases the high that begins to build at the edges of your body, tingling and pulsing. 

“Shut up–” you beg him, the low rasp of his voice launching you towards that pleasure that threatens to consume you. Jerking your hips up to meet his, your body mindlessly reacts to the sound of his timbre. 

“Oh, no,” he chuckles, shaking his half masked face. There’s a silver laden scar that stretches across the base of his chin. It matches the one that splits his upper lip to the base of his nose, the ski mask hovering tantalisingly over the bridge. “When?” 

The seriousness of his tone makes your thighs quiver when paired with the sharp thrust he punctuates his question with. Years of training in maintaining a cover-story while a hostage are blown to bits as though Ghost has launched a mortar at your resolve, because suddenly all your state secrets are spilling out of you quicker than you can shove the incriminating words back into your traitor mouth. 

“I’d– Hagh… I’d do it j-just as you’re cummin–hhah!”

“And spoil my fun?” Ghost hums, that heavy timbre licking up your spine and sparking viscous embers at the base of your spine, “Anyone ever told you that you’re very fuckin’ selfish, Delta?” 

You’d offer a witty comment, but Ghost’s angled his hips just right, and your jaw is falling loose to let out a panicked whimper. 

“There it is, shit. Look at you, Sargeant. Fuckin’, you’re so tight–” 

You’re like a slip knot, tightening around him further with each knock of your g-spot with Simon’s ridiculously large cock-head. Prickling tears of bliss threaten to spill over the edge of your waterline, continuing to sting even when you shut your eyes. You’re shaking, trembling beneath his rocking hips as you mewl his name. 

“S-Simon! Fuck–”

Wild, wet squelches of Simon sinking into your soaked cunt echo in your skull as he ramps up his violent thrusts, the springs of his mattress screaming an unmistakable rhythm to anyone walking by. He doesn’t seem to care now though, his eyes zeroed in on your expression like he’s stalking a victim with his sniper scope. Aiming for complete obliteration. 

“C’mon Can feel you squeezin’ round me,” he murmurs, the steady tone he’d offered earlier shuddering slightly as you squeeze impossibly tight around him, coil threatening to snap, “You’re so close, Delta. C’mon, paint my cock an’ I’ll eat you out with my cum in you–” 

                           ✰

“He’s blonde.” 

Gawping jaws drop to the floor at your very simple observation, Soap’s eyes nearly rolling across the uneven, rotten floorboards after falling out of his skull. You can’t help the smug smile that threatens to tug at the edge of your lips, especially given the sensation of Ghost’s eyes boring holes into the back of your skull. 

The awe only worsens when Price gives a subtle nod of confirmation from the corner of the darkened room, crowning you the winner of this utterly ridiculous joust. 

“How do you know?” Gary is as shaken as Soap by the confidence with which you’d offered your final answer, in disbelief as to how you could have possibly obtained it without being maimed, given the egg on his forehead was still throbbing despite days of icing it with the snow from outside the safehouse.

“His pubes are. I assume the curtains match the drapes,” you shrug dismissively. 

The sheer incredulity that flashes across Johnny’s face is utterly hilarious. The smirk that had been threatening to break finally cracks across your lips at the confirmation of your victory. Ghost’s eyes appear to have lazered through your skull, singing brain matter with the ferocity of his scowl. Frankly, you couldn’t care less– you can see it in your mind's eye; the gorgeous contrast of a blood-red crosshair settling across Hassan’s forehead, the weight of the trigger beneath your finger as you pull it back.

cod mwii/kinktober taglist:

@mockerycrow @bubuslutty @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @levi-llama @thebiscuitsheep @maelstrom007 @alexxavicry @bug-sy-boy @glennrheesworld @kittenfrostt @luvfromkat @blingblong55 @whore4dilfs @wolfyland07 @doggydale @dog55teeth @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @whore-for-anime @i-love-ghost @cyberpr1m3 @mockerycrow @bubuslutty @lundenloves @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @babychoi03 @infectedkura @allekat1988 @whore-for-anime @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @mockerycrow @cyberpr1m3 @i-love-ghost @allekat1988 @infectedkura @babychoi03 @freakquenci @maviee @yunggoblin @sleepystaarr @watyousayin @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @damn-dean-blog @pheonyxmoon @magicalreviewphantom @limegreenbabx @johfaam0 @iaur @justsayk

@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @maviee @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @s-u-t @ghostslynx @solidly-indulgent @glitterypirateduck @gummyfang @bii-aan-ckaa @konigsblog @crissteetee @crissteetee67 @sylvanasthebansheequeen @akaym2 @exploremyworldsm @thriving-n-jiving @su57 @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @tusk89 @bellasbees01 @dog55teeth

[minkieater]

EIGHT FIRST DATES ꨄ︎

006 》 PARK SEONGHWA

maybe starting back at square one is what you needed. during a night out with two of your girlfriends you haven’t seen since your nights out at the frats, a particular bartender has perked your interest. before the question of will he accompany you at thanksgiving, will he let you have him so easily?

wc 21.7k i told y’all its getting juicy | smut minors dni, drinking, mentions of death, hwa’s situation is a lil fucked up

your bed was warm— warmer than usual, warmer than it should be. it felt comforting, relieving almost, you didn’t want to open your eyes and face the day, instead relish in the unending solace your bed was feeding you. you groaned, stretching your body out, half awake and eyes still shut, not expecting your arm to be stopped halfway in its reach. 

your eyes fly open, adrenaline shooting through you. you don’t remember leaving with jisung, and who the hell else could be in your bed? 

dark brown hair laid over his sleeping face, knotted and frizzed to oblivion, his face buried in one of your pillows. on his stomach, his arms were tucked underneath the pillow, face hidden behind his bicep, only a fraction of his face was visible to you. the last person you’d ever expected was asleep next to you, radiating over six feet of body heat. you can feel your heart pounding against your chest, racking your brain for any memory of the night before. you remembered being in the car, san carrying you inside, but after that was darkness— nothing. 

you’d definitely gotten more drunk than intended, but this drunk? to wake up next to yunho? your hand comes up to clutch your chest, checking for clothes on your body— a big tee hung loose on your shoulders, but as you rubbed your legs together, they were bare, which means the possibility is there. 

you erupted in flames, there’s no way. 

“yunho.” you whisper yelled, but he didn’t so much as stir, muffled snores coming from his nose. you shook his shoulder once, twice, voice getting louder, “yunho!” 

one of his eyes peeled open, looking at you for just a moment before his eyebrow curled up in question. his eyes slowly moved as he took in his surroundings, as realization set in– he didn’t seem as taken aback as you were.

“morning,” he grumbled as he untangled his arms from beneath your pillow, flopping onto his back. he stretched his arms behind his head and you watched as his chest puffed outward, the muscles in his biceps flexed, how his fingers scrunched to fists. 

you swallowed, still whispering, “why are you in here? yunho, there’s no way we—”

he looked at you as if you had three heads, answering your question before you asked it, his neck snapping to the side and eyebrows hung so low above his eyes you felt stupid for even considering the fact you might’ve done something. a sound of amusement left his nose and his face softened, his voice deep and mangled with sleep as he said, “you were drunk and asked me to stay with you, i didn’t really have the option to say no. plus, i was kinda scared you’d choke if you got sick again or something.” 

your cheeks flush again, the embarrassment growing worse. you bring your palm to your forehead, trying to rack your brain of events from the previous day, groaning. “i’m sorry, thank you for staying with me.” 

he laughs, a deep chuckle, one you’d never heard before, “do you know how fucking insane you sleep? hitting me, throwing your entire body on top of me, i woke up at least four times.” 

a smile grows on your face, some of the embarrassment washing away— he was being normal about it, you had no reason to not be. “good, you deserve it.” 

“hey,” he warns, then yawns, speaking through it, “you said you were tired of being mad at me. no take backs.” 

“i don’t remember saying it, so it doesn’t count,” you sit up in your bed, and your head pounds. you groan, palm returning to your forehead, a slew of curses flying from your mouth. 

yunho audibly stretches again then sits up next to you, “let’s get you meds and food.” 

you frown, “what if i just go back to sleep?” 

“at least brush your teeth,” his nose scrunches up, “you got sick last night, like, all over the parking lot.” 

your eyes nearly bulge out of your head and you gasp in shock, the remnants of your embarrassment showing in your flushed cheeks. “you didn’t at least flush my mouth out with mouth wash?”

he gives you a look that says are you kidding me?

“you’re right, you did more than enough. thank you for taking care of me,” you nod in defeat, tone genuine despite the humor laced behind your entire exchange so far. you take a second getting out of your bed, bones cracking as your legs bend over your mattress, you slept like shit. 

while brushing your teeth, memories of yesterday flood your mind like flashbacks, going through the hours of the day from start to finish. you groan with a mouth full of toothpaste, hand coming to hit your forehead again, embarrassment washing over you again. from almost falling off of jisung’s shoulders to kissing him in front of everyone, you think maybe you should just pretend yesterday never happened. 

when you come out of the bathroom, yunho is still in your bed, laying on his back, typing away on his phone. you pull on some sweatpants and turn to him, “are you cooking breakfast?” 

his phone hits the bed, eyes pointed, “you should at least help.” 

your lips pulled into a line, but you couldn’t argue. “fine.” 

you followed behind yunho all the way down to your kitchen where vivi was sitting at the kitchen island, passing your mom and matt in the living room on the way there. they all mumbled different versions of good morning, your house smelling of freshly brewed coffee and whatever candle your mom had burning. 

“morning vee,” yunho greets as he comes around the corner of the island, picking up her coffee mug from the granite. he takes a sip and grimaces, “needs more cream.” 

“we don’t have any,” she complains, not batting an eye at yunho for stealing her drink, “only tiny’s oat milk.” 

“hey,” you frown, “i need that, don’t waste it.” 

“i’m not wasting it if i’m drinking it,” she bites back, then plants her palms on the counter to stand, slipping off of her chair. 

“we’re about to make breakfast,” yunho says, and she stops in her movements, “you should stay and help, or laugh at tiny when she tries to cook.” 

a smile spreads across vivi’s face, blue hair laying over her cheeks. she climbs back into the chair, setting her sweatshirt covered elbows down on the counter with her chin in her palms, “good thing you’re here yuyu, she’ll burn the whole fucking house down if she tries to cook on her own.” 

“hey!” you plant your hands on your hips on the opposite side of the counter, “i am more than capable of making eggs and bacon.” 

vivi raises her eyebrows in amusement, “yeah, okay.”

you let out a huff and make your way to the coffee machine, grabbing your mug from the cabinet above the machine, pouring yourself a full cup. after adding oat milk and taking three ibuprofen, you were ready to cook— behind your back, yunho had already begun laying out all the ingredients. 

footsteps came slowly down the stairs, getting louder as they hit the platform and you know the others are awake. you turn to vivi, “when’s ace coming home?” 

vivi doesn’t look up when she answers, “some time this morning, pretty sure.” 

your lip lifts in dissatisfaction. you raise your voice, head turning in the direction of the living room, “mom, when’s ace coming home?” 

“his location says he’s twenty minutes away, i don’t know if he’s dropping reia off,” your mom yells back from the living room, and san winces at the volume as he enters the kitchen. 

yeosang follows behind through the threshold, san has a hand raised up to the side of his head. with a bare torso and sweatpants, he frowns, “it’s too damn early for you to be yelling.” 

“i dare you to go say that to her,” you jutt your chin out in the direction of the living room, smirking at san. he rolls his eyes, but takes your challenge to your surprise. 

“mom, it’s too damn early to be yelling,” san says just loud enough for her to hear. 

“tiny yelled first!” your mom argues, completely dismissing san calling her mom— she’s used to it. you hear her footsteps before you see her as she makes her way into the kitchen, hair and makeup done already. “take some ibuprofen, i know you all got trashed yesterday.”

“tiny got the most trashed out of all of us,” yeosang defends himself, taking a seat next to vivi at the counter. in a white tee and basketball shorts, definitely clothes he keeps in the guest room dresser, he looked exhausted. 

your mom stands at the entrance to the kitchen, taking in the sight of all of you. she looks you up and down, popping an eyebrow as she said, “i can tell.” she walks further into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table off to the side, “who drove?”

“yunho,” you answer, pointing in his direction with your thumb, then slid the bottle of ibuprofen across the island to the two boys. you didn’t even look at yourself when you brushed your teeth, too consumed with embarrassment from the day before— you couldn’t imagine what you looked like. 

“good boy,” your mom smiles with affection in her lens-covered eyes, she loves yunho— every parent does. “how was it? did you see who you wanted to see?” 

yunho turns on the stove, grabbing a pan from one of the cabinets beneath the kitchen island. he places dairy free butter on the pan as it heats up, and you grab for the eggs beside the stove. 

“it was so good,” yeosang answers for you, turning around in his chair to face your mom, “we saw everyone we wanted to. tiny’s friends were really cool too— oh, guess what?” 

your mom leans forward, “what?” 

“i met a guy.”

you tune them out as you crack an egg over the heated pan, grateful yeosang took over the conversation. vivi watches you and yunho, her chin still in her palms, you had mere centimeters between yourself and the boy you slept next to. the thought brings heat to your cheeks and you crack the egg a little too hard, some of the shell falling into the pan. 

“teens,” vivi whines, “it’s the first egg and you already fucked it up.” 

“she’s gotta warm up,” yunho waves a hand in your sister’s direction, “let her cook.” 

you fight a smile, tightening your lips as your eyes lead to vivi’s. she rolls hers in annoyance, “if i taste one shell in my eggs i’m suing you.” 

“suing me?” you say a little louder, the nerve. “you’re so dramatic, make your own damn eggs.” 

“yun, where did you sleep last night?” san asks from across the island, sat next to yeosang at the island. he’s leaned over the granite, cheek in his palm, looking half asleep. “your bed was basically untouched when we woke up.”

your eyes widen and your head snaps up to look at yunho, who’s quick to answer. “on the couch.” 

your mom directs her attention to yunho, her head turning to squint in his direction. before san could get a word out, she interrupts, “i was down here at five and you weren’t on the couch.” 

yunho’s eyes look at you for a split second before he sighs in defeat, he was too tired to lie his way out of this. you held your breath as he said, “i slept in tiny’s bed.” 

the entire kitchen snapped to look at you and yunho with something between shock and confusion. too similar to a sitcom, all four of them in the same tone asked, “what?” 

yunho shrugs, and as if he’s done it a million times before and it was no big deal, he says, “i was scared she’d get sick again.” 

yeosang lifts a single eyebrow, “i think we should put a pin in this conversation until ace gets home.” 

simultaneously, vivi lets out a loud chuckle as she says, “you got sick?! at a music festival?”

you scoff, “yes, i got sick— and what’s ace gonna do?” 

vivi has a wicked smile on her face as she mumbles under her breath, “that’s so embarrassing…”

“i just feel like he should be here for the discussion of tiny and yunho sleeping together,” yeosang says and then turns to san, “don’t you think?” 

san is staring at the two of you, still in complete surprise. you feel like maybe everyone is overreacting just a bit. yunho had taken over cooking the eggs long ago, you planted your hands on the counter beneath you and stared down your two friends. “first of all, don’t say it like that, you guys act like we’ve all never slept beside each other before. do you not remember all of our slumber parties in the basement? you only took over the guest room like, a year or two ago.” 

“that’s different,” san counters, “that's all of us together.” he turns to yeosang, a grin growing on his cheeks, “i wonder what ace will say.” 

you shake your head with a look of disgust on your face, then you turn to look up to yunho, “why are you so quiet? defend my honor here.” 

yunho shrugs like he doesn't care at all, “they’ll stop once there’s food in front of them.” his nonchalance was going to be the death of you. 

“yuyu, when will the food be ready?” vivi’s cheek is in her elbow now, laying on the countertop as if she’d fall asleep within minutes. “i’m so hungry i'm going to die.” 

“i told you already,” you snap, “make your own damn eggs.” 

vivi picks her head up, pointing her gaze at you, “you aren’t even doing anything! yunho’s cooking the eggs and the bacon!” 

“vivi,” your mom warns from the kitchen table, she stands up and makes her way towards the island. “be nice to tiny or else yunho won’t give you any of the food he made.” 

you look up to your mom who was wearing the craziest smirk. vivi snaps her neck, “what does that have to do with anything?” 

your mom doesn’t answer, she simply shoots yunho a wink before walking back to the living room. she yells over her shoulder, “make sure you clean up!” 

you slowly turn to look up at yunho, giving him a questioning look and mumble under your breath, “that was weird.” 

“whatever, let’s eat,” he brushes you off, putting eggs and bacon onto plates. “damn, we should’ve made toast.”

“wait, i can do that!” you exclaim, whipping around your kitchen to grab the toaster from another cabinet and a loaf of bread from the pantry. this was easy— you couldn’t mess up toast. you steal a piece of bacon from the serving plate, keeping it hanging out of your mouth as you put bread in the toaster, turning it on. 

you hear the front door open and everyone’s head turns. ace’s groggy voice calls from the foyer, “i’m home!” 

“we’re in here,” you call back, eyes back on the toaster, awaiting your toast to pop from the silver appliance. 

ace and reia make their way into the kitchen and yunho is back behind the stove, heating the pan once again, “you guys hungry?” 

“yes, please,” reia smiles, standing around the island. ace kisses her cheek before moving around the countertop, stealing a piece of bacon from san’s plate and eating half the strip in a singular bite. 

the toaster pops and you pull out two slices of bread, throwing them down at the two boys at the end of the island. you pop in two new pieces of bread and push down on the lever, then ask your twin and his girlfriend, “how was your weekend?” 

“so good,” reia gushes, leaning onto the counter now, her elbows on the granite. “we had a gorgeous cabin, a hot tub on the balcony, it even snowed.”

“damn, how far away were you?” san asked, biting into a piece of bacon, his mouth already full. “it wasn’t even close to cold enough for snow here.”

“like three hours away,” ace answers, “long ass drive, it only flurried, didn’t stick or anything. how was the music festival?”

“don’t even ask,” you put a hand up, “save me the embarrassment, i beg you.”

ace smiles, “did you at least get to see jungle?” 

“yes!” you exclaim, the thought bringing a smile to your face that matched his exactly. “it was incredible.” 

“wanna know something?” yeosang turned to ace, a cocky smile on his face, only turning to you for a split second to smirk before he brought his attention back to ace. your twin nodded, mindlessly chewing on a piece of vivi’s bacon that he’d stolen while she was checking her phone. “tiny and yunho slept together last night.” 

“gross,” ace grimaced, then looked up to yunho, eyebrows raised in a way you couldn’t place, unusual for the person you shared DNA with. 

“finally,” reia answered simultaneously, a smile spreading across her face. the kitchen went silent, six heads staring up at reia, all wearing different expressions. you didn’t have time to read every one before you were doing damage control.

“finally?” you ask, eyebrows twisted in confusion, face wearing something between shock and disgust. you whined, “why’d you say it like that, yeo? we slept next to each other.” 

reia’s posture shrank, her lips pursing, she quickly looked away from you and to ace instead, probably for him to do his own damage control for what she just said. you put your hands on your hips, “you’ve never been silent once in your lives, speak. what do you mean by "finally?” 

reia stumbles over her words and ace cuts her off with a nonchalance he’s been practicing for twenty years, “finally as in you’ve been looking for a boyfriend for almost six weeks now, and we all know yunho’s a keeper.” 

yeosang and san nod in agreement, san even using his thumb to point in ace’s direction with a mouth full of eggs. you scoff, “if i was that desperate, i’d just bring yeosang.” 

yeosang fist pumps the air, “i’m special.”

“definitely special,” you mumble under your breath as more toast pops from the toaster, and you keep a piece for yourself before handing out the other. 

“are you gonna call mingyu today?” san asks from the end of the island and your head snaps up, staring at him in surprise. you must’ve said something about it last night. 

“why the hell would she do that?” ace asks, upper lip lifted in disapproval. “don’t do that.” 

“she talked about it last night,” san shrugs, “she was crying in the car like, ‘i miss him, jisung was nothing like him.’ i was just wondering.”

ace sucks a breath in and your face flushes, out of embarrassment and guilt towards jisung. you hoped he didn’t know how you felt, you had a great time with him, he didn’t deserve to feel a fraction of sadness because of you. 

“moment of weakness,” was your answer, reality seeming to wash over you again. that’s right, that was your whole intention behind yesterday– getting drunk, forgetting about mingyu, getting better. except what happened was the exact opposite. “no, i won’t call him.” 

“good,” yunho answered with a heavy hand on your shoulder, “no more getting drunk to forget about him, either.” 

you looked up to him with a weak smile, “will do.” 

──────  ꨄ︎

you hadn’t seen any of your girl friends in ages. the last time you went out together was months ago, a weekend at the frats that you barely remembered, time that you barely spent together. you’d brought the boys along that night, you spent half the time getting a handle on them and the other half up in heeseung’s bedroom– you were overdue for a night out, and actually spending it with the girls this time around. 

giselle and julie, two girls you’d met your freshman year of college, you were in the same pre-rec classes. you got together well, but you were never super close– you had your hands full with your boys, maybe that was your fault. to make matters worse, maybe vivi had a point when she said the only girls you hangout with are your cousins, you had to prove her wrong, the sixteen year old can not and will never be correct. 

sat around a table at a bar near campus, the two girls were talking your ear off, asking you for a list of life updates. julie’s smile reached ear to ear as she sipped her fruity drink, “there has to be a guy, it’s been months!”

“there’s been,” you lifted your hand, counting on your fingers– hyunjin, chan, mingyu, jisung… “four guys, actually.” 

“what?” they exclaim simultaneously. giselle continues, “four? and we heard about none of them?” 

she’s right– and to think a few weeks ago you ached to talk to a girl who didn’t know anything about mingyu, an unbiased opinion, to hear you out. you had two girls sitting right in front of you that you could have talked to the entire time, could have spilled every detail and every emotion to. you physically relaxed, shoulders dropping, your jaw unclenched. you missed them. 

“the first one was hyunjin,” you began, and the entire story unraveled. you told them everything– you didn’t need to hold anything back. from the lie you told to your cousins to the age gap between you and mingyu to almost falling off of jisung’s shoulders– they heard every detail. 

“so, hyunjin was an asshole, chan is still your friend, mingyu is the love of your life, jisung was a rebound situation,” giselle pondered after you finished, twirling her straw in her drink. “who the hell even are you?”

“what happened to our baby who barely looks at anyone other than heeseung?” julie teases, and giselle giggles at her question. 

“heeseung was never anything serious and you two know that better than anyone,” you shake your head, “he just wanted to fuck, and i just wanted to fuck him.” 

“i always thought there was more there,” giselle counters with a shrug, “i can’t believe yunho slept with you.” 

“and the way–” julie forces a repulsed shake throughout her entire body, “–ace’s girlfriend said finally? what the hell does that mean?” 

“you need to get over that, jules,” giselle comments, “he’s literally her brother.” 

“every time i look at her i’m reminded of him, it’s not my fault!” julie puts her hands up in defense then brings her eyes to you, “back to the real problem here, please, yunho and the word ‘finally’?” 

“i agree, the finally thing was weird, but ace said it was just because yunho’s a keeper and if it came down to him being my boyfriend– oh.” 

“oh?” the two girls ask. 

“that motherfucker was lying,” you gasp, looking at them with wide eyes. “that finally totally meant something else.” 

“in what way?” julie asks. 

“in a they’re rooting for you and yunho kind of way?” giselle leans closer, holding her glass between both hands. “he is hot, and he’s tall as fuck. what school does he go to again?” 

you cringe, “ew, ew ew ew, i can’t think about him that way. before all of this, ace even suggested that i choose yunho, san or yeosang, but i think he was just saying it so i’d get our cousins off my back– i don’t think he realized that i actually wanted a boyfriend out of this. maybe i didn’t either when i first did all of this.” 

“so ace is rooting for you and yunho and reia’s heard all about it,” julie says in a matter-of-fact kind of way, like she’s putting together puzzle pieces. 

“plus, vivi was being a bitch to me the other morning when we were making breakfast and my mom said that yunho wouldn’t give her any food if she was mean to me,” you raise your eyebrows, as if you were putting together puzzle pieces now, too. 

“so ace and your mom are rooting for yunho,” giselle gasps, then her and julie share a look. 

you bring your surfside up to your lips as giselle asks, “well, how has yunho been during this whole dating situation? has he been supportive?” 

you tilt your head, “at first, i mean, he drove me to my date with hyunjin, but once mingyu came around it was like a total 180– he was not happy about mingyu. then he was supportive again with jisung.”

“mingyu seems to be the only one that would’ve really worked,” giselle lifts her brows, sitting back in her chair. “i’m realizing things that i’m not sure should be realized.” 

you bring a palm to your forehead, sighing. “we should get drunk.” 

“hammered,” julie agrees, setting her now empty glass down in front of you, giselle following suit. 

“i’ll get us another round,” you say and hop up from your chair, taking a deep breath. 

this is all too much– you have never looked at yunho like that in your life, not even when you were in high school and in your horny phase, with a crush on anything that walked and had a heartbeat. you’d be damned if you talked yourself into it now, not even knowing if yunho felt the same way. it made sense, but it made so much sense that you felt that it had to be planned, set up– made to convince you. you weren’t sure if you were even making sense at this point– all you knew was that you and yunho would never happen. 

you were going to drive yourself insane. 

as you made your way up to the bar, it was busier than when you got here. familiar faces surrounded you, being so close to campus, but none that you’d actually say hello to. you found one spot open as if it was meant for you to take, and you stood with your upper half slightly leaned over the luster deep oak, hopefully so the bartender would notice you. 

the bartender… you knew him from somewhere. dark as onyx, straight hair that touched his strong looking shoulders, a slender figure, sharp jaw and curved nose that was nothing short of stunning– is he really just a bartender with a face like that? you really hoped he’d notice you, and not just for drinks. you wish you styled your hair neater this morning, applied your makeup with more care, you didn’t think you’d be scouting tonight on top of getting drinks with friends. 

“what can i get for you?” he asked, flashing you a blinding white smile, a set of perfect teeth on his perfect face. his eyes were as dark as his hair, skin a deep golden, almost reflective with the heat he was no doubt feeling behind the busy bar. 

you stuttered as you told him your drink orders for the table, internally smacking yourself for the mishap. as he cracked your can, you watched his fingers grip the bar key with practiced movements– it triggered your memory. you lifted a brow, “by chance, were you working the music festival across the city this past weekend?” 

“i was, yeah,” he said with a small chuckle, handing three drinks to you. “here you go.” 

“thank you, i knew i recognized you from somewhere,” you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear with a smile, “funny you work so close to my campus.” 

“campus? should i be ID’ing you again?” he wore a lazy smirk, standing with his weight shifted onto his right leg. 

“no, i’m a senior,” you waved your hand, “no need.” 

“tab?” he asks, already making his way back to the computer. 

“han,” you call after him, “han julie, i think it’s under.” 

internally you slam your fist against the bar… han julie is so close to han jisung. you set it up with chan earlier today in class to meet with jisung tomorrow, you needed to get your jacket back, but you also needed to tell jisung it wasn’t going to work out– if he even thought it would after you left in such a mortifying way. impending doom loomed over you.

seonghwa shoots you a thumbs up without looking back at you and you scurry back to the table with heat on your cheeks. as you sit down, you immediately spill, “that bartender worked the music festival last weekend, isn’t he hot?” 

“seonghwa?” julie pops a brow, “he’s been working here since before we started coming here.” 

“i’ve never been here, i had no idea,” you answer, immediately taking a sip from your can. 

“as regulars of this establishment, we still know absolutely nothing about him,” giselle says with her lips pursed, making you giggle. she continues, “the other bartender though, belle? we know all the drama,” she smirks.

“there’s bartender drama?” you question, getting more comfortable in your seat. the music is louder now as people start to file in, for a wednesday you didn’t think it’d get busy– you supposed in a college town any night was like a friday. 

“of course there’s bartender drama– you see that guy over there? shaggy brown hair, red shirt, big lips, super cute,” julie points to the end of the bar, “that’s jake, they’re hooking up, have been for a few months now. see the guy next to him?” you nod and julie giggles, “sunghoon, also hooking up with belle. they’re friends, have no idea they’re both sleeping with her.”

you gasp, “how do you pull off something like that?” 

“belle is a bitch,” giselle shrugs, “neither of them get special treatment. easy.” 

a hand comes over your mouth as you laugh harder, “how do you know that?” 

“see that other guy sitting at the table over there? yellow beanie, hoodie, jeans. that’s jungwon, he knows everything, is friends with both of them, but doesn’t tell them. he told us, though,” julie laughs and giselle high fives her, both of them erupting into a fit of giggles. 

“you were not kidding about being regulars here,” you say through a breath, “aren’t they in the same frat as heeseung?” 

“yes,” julie nods, “but hee never comes here, don’t worry.”

“i’m not worried,” you shake your head, “i am curious about seonghwa, though. you guys really know nothing about him?” 

julie leans into the table, leaning her chin on her palm, “he’s more closed off, doesn’t fraternize with the girls who throw themselves at him. keeps to himself, doesn’t get into the usual local bar drama.” 

you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, contemplating. he’s gorgeous, not one for drama, keeps to himself… you could get behind that, put all your worries behind you– how is the question. 

“don’t tell me you’re thinking of making him,” giselle pauses, counting on her fingers like you had earlier, “man number five.” 

“why not?” you say with a smile, “he might fix me.”

“girl, you don’t need to be fixed,” julie counters, “investigate the yunho situation.” 

“i will be forgetting the yunho situation from here on out, actually,” you say, then take a sip of your surfside. an idea comes to mind, and with a wicked smile on your face, you ask the two girls, “does anyone want a shot?” 

“jesus, who even are you anymore?” giselle asks jokingly, a smile growing on her face. she points her index finger in the air, “yes to the shot, though.”

her question sits with you as you walk back to the bar– you supposed you were different now, after all of this, experience changes a person. you should’ve kept in closer contact with them, kept them up to date on your life– you wondered if they’d like chan’s friends, too… 

“you’re back,” seonghwa says as soon as your ribs hit the bar, perfect teeth hidden by a tight smile of plump pink lips, “something wrong?” 

“not at all,” your cheeks flush, for some reason you can’t scrounge up a hint of confidence with him. he’s intimidating, not at all soft, or open– even if you wanted to crack that wall he put up, you couldn’t find it in you to try. “can i get three shots of tito’s?” 

seonghwa nods and grabs a bottle of ketel one from beneath him, then lays out three shot glasses. your brows furrow– did he hear you correctly?

“um, i’m sorry, i meant tito’s–”

“i heard you,” he doesn’t look up as he pours the clear liquid into three glasses, then slides them your way. “on me.” 

you cock your head to the side, it’s like he was feeding you an opportunity. “then can i have another round on me? and an extra for you.” 

his smile grows, “you want to buy me a shot?” 

“if you’ll let me,” you nod, trying hard not to bat your eyelashes at him. you didn’t want to be like the others, one flip of your hair and expecting to get your way– even if that’s what you were used to. if you were going to get him, it needed to be in a way that was appealing to him. a challenge. 

you call the other two girls over, taking your first round of shots with sour faces and deep exhales to get the taste out of your mouths so you can stomach another. seonghwa clinks his shot glass with the three of you, saying cheers as the glasses hit the bar again before you shoot them back. verbal exhales and sour faces again, seonghwa was the only one unaffected– you pulled your card out of your mini purse that was slung over your shoulder, “put the shots on this one, please.” 

“yes ma’am, thank you very much,” he nods, walking over to the computer again. “don’t go anywhere,” he calls after you, and you pause your turn back to the table, staying at the bar instead. the girls shoot you surprised looks over their shoulders as they scurry back off to the table, and you give them the same look back– it couldn’t have been that easy, right?

he returns with your card and two receipts, “you didn’t say leave it open.”

ah– no, not that easy, you’d have to work harder than that. an airy giggle leaves your throat as you pull out your phone’s calculator, and he picks your brain. “what’s so funny?” 

you look up after leaving a hefty tip and signing your name, “nothing, just thought you were keeping me here for another reason.”

he lifts a brow, “another reason, like what?” 

you suck on your bottom lip– it was now or never. “maybe to ask for my number or something, i don’t know.”

a sound of amusement leaves his lips and he looks down for a moment, it hits you right in the gut. you lift a brow as you slip your card back into your purse, “what’s so funny?” 

“i know those two girls, they must’ve told you i don’t fuck around with people who come to the bar, right?” he lifts his eyebrows, using his chin to point in the direction of your two friends who sat back down at your table. 

“they did,” you nod, the alcohol buzzing through you must have made every ounce of confidence return to you as you asked, “did you notice it was my first time here?” 

seonghwa nods. you keep your gaze on him, so straight faced as you answered you couldn’t believe it came from your lips, “then i’ll gladly never return if it means you’ll fuck around with me.” 

his lips curve upward, “that’s a new one. i’ll think about it.” 

you let the smile through as you turn on your heel, you’ll take that– it feels like progress, even if it was his way of getting you away from the bar. when you sat back at the table you kept your body language nonchalant just in case he watched you from behind the bar, he didn’t need to see you squealing to your two friends like a teenager, even if you were fighting for your life to keep your voice down. 

as you put your phone down on the table, you noticed notifications filling your screen– you were quick to unlock it and read. 

👨‍👨‍👦‍👦 (and tiny)

9:34 pm

yeo: helloooo what are we doing yeo: are we doing anything tn??

twin: im w reia

sannie: my boyyyy sannie: back in shawty’s good graces

yunho: thanks to me

twin: i’d like to think i had a hand in it as well idk

yeo: mainly thanks to yunho tho yeo: he’ll prolly plan ur engagement

you giggle to yourself, and type back. 

you: nah that's prob where i come in you: im at the bar by campus w giselle and julie you: im free after if someone wanna shcoop me

yeo: oh bruh ur drinking again  yeo: on a WEDNESDAY

sannie: no crying or getting sick this time pls

you: no im being casual and normal tn you: bouta get my claws on someone new you: imagine me laughing all evil rn

yeo: oop

sannie: oh

you: wish me luck ladies !!!

yunho: good luck be safe yunho: let us know when to pick you up

you loved the message and put your phone down, then shake it off as ease rushes over you. if yunho was seriously into you, he wouldn’t have interacted with that message at all. 

“who was that?” julie asks, sipping from her straw. 

“the boys,” you say with a wave of your hand, “they asked what we’re doing tonight.” 

“did you tell them to come here?” julie’s face lights up, eyes bright and eyebrows high, hope clear in her expression. 

“ace is with reia, sorry jules,” you frown, shaking the liquid around in your can. she immediately pouts. “they’ll pick me up later.” 

you look out onto the small dance floor where people have already begun occupying the space, dancing along to whatever pop song played through the speakers. with warmth flooding through you from the shots, the idea seemed almost appealing. you popped a brow as you looked at your two friends, who were already following your idea. 

you follow behind a head of pink hair as the head of black hair leads the way, the three of you falling into a triangle in the middle of the tiny dance floor. the group of you are all giggles and shitty dance moves, more swaying your hips than anything, heads thrown back in laughter and more than a drop of liquor fallen to the ground. it reminded you of the frats, being covered in a sheen of sweat in a dark living room, red solo cups in everyone's hands, the room so loud and hot it didn't take long before it started spinning. for a moment, you forgot why you stopped going– you almost missed it. 

“this makes me miss ENA,” you pout as you look at the other two girls, “are they still throwing?” 

“i don’t think they’ll ever stop throwing,” julie laughs, sipping her drink, swaying her hips. she stops dead in her tracks to give you a look, “does this mean you want to go?” 

“you haven’t stepped foot into ENA since you and heeseung…” giselle turns her head slightly as she stares you down, furrowing her eyebrows. 

“i know, i know,” you shake your head, “i don’t know, all that talk about the members tonight just has me thinking about it, i guess, and i haven’t seen you guys since our last night there.” you look over their heads, jake and sunghoon still sat at the bar then to jungwon in the corner, you let out a sarcastic laugh. “unity my ass.”

“i’m not against it,” julie shakes her head, “i’ve had my eye on sunghoon for a minute, i’ll make him forget all about belle.” 

you throw your head back in laughter, “we’ll go soon, then.” 

when you make it back to your table, your surfside wasn’t quenching your thirst in the way you needed it to. your legs were tired, you had loads of homework to do tomorrow, plus you missed your bed. before you sat down, you said, “i’m gonna go get water, then i think i’m gonna have the boys come get me.” 

“boo,” julie frowns, throwing a thumbs down in your direction. you smile, you did that same exact thing to yunho at the music festival. 

“i’m sorry,” you say in the same tone, “i’m tired.” 

you scurry off to the bar and seonghwa was even quicker to approach you this time. “more shots?”

“water, actually,” you nod, putting your elbow onto the bar, propping your chin on your palm. 

“dancing got you all tired out, huh?” he smirks as he scoops glass into a cup, pouring water from the soda gun. 

“you were watching?” you quirked a brow, taking the cup from his hand, muttering a thank you after you took a sip. 

“it might’ve caught my eye,” he shrugs, “you leaving?” 

“hope you enjoyed the show, then,” you smile, and a singular bat of your eyelashes cuts through your defenses. can’t win them all. “yeah, about to get picked up.”

“boyfriend coming to get you?” he asks, and he looks entirely serious when the words leave his lips. your top lip lifts in disgust as your eyebrows furrow. 

“have any of our interactions tonight made it seem like i have a boyfriend?” you bite, words unintentionally sharp. that was a stupid question on his part, even more so when you think of who’s picking you up. 

he simply shrugs and leans his arms against the bar, the muscles in his bare biceps tensing all the way up to his shoulders, pecs pushing against the cotton of his black tank top. you fight to not salivate. “who knows.” 

“i have half a mind to be offended right now,” you stand straight, propping a foot up on the step of the bar. “do you accuse every girl who flirts with you of cheating?” 

“not typically,” his entire demeanor bleeds not giving a fuck, “just can’t imagine a pretty girl like you is single.” 

“oh,” the word is weak as it slips from your lips, cheeks flushing again. “well, i am, and if you have any ideas on changing that i'll be here for another…” you look down to the nonexistent watch on your wrist, “...twenty minutes.” 

he chuckles, a genuine one, and you feel like you’ve won. “i don’t have time to date, if i did, i’d be like belle here.” 

belle passes behind him as he says the words and a brow quirks on her face, but she doesn’t say anything. that wouldn’t have made any sense to you if giselle and julie hadn’t given you the run down. you smile and counter, “i’m flexible.” 

“i’m not,” he says, and then he turns on his heel, giving you one more sentence over his shoulder before helping another patron. “hope to see you again, though.”

you stood dumbfounded for a moment before you were back off to your table, texting the boys to come pick you up immediately. rejection hurts no matter who it is, but to work up to something all night and have it pulled from beneath you is criminal. frustration sits on your face until your boys are outside to pick you up. 

after bidding the two girls goodbye with kisses on their cheeks and leaving a wad of cash on the table to pay for your part of the bill– and then some, probably, you didn’t count– you were in yunho’s car, ranting up a storm as soon as the backseat door snapped shut. 

“i’m not?!” you exclaim, you were sure you looked like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “that’s ridiculous.”

all three boys are wearing small smiles, amused by your rage. your eye twitches. “what is so fucking funny?”

“it’s wildly entertaining when you don’t get what you want,” san says, trying not to break out in a full laughter. “when it’s anger and not crying, specifically. a crying tiny makes me want to commit the rumbling.”

you pause, looking at san for a moment before your lip lifts upward, you couldn’t hold in the full laughter that erupts from you. after that the entire car is consumed in laughter at san’s statement, and just like that, all your anger is forgotten. what else are these three losers for?

──────  ꨄ︎

thursday had you weak. after getting drunk the previous night plus classes all morning, you were running around campus, under the dark looming cloud of jisung and what you had to do in a few minutes. you guessed you just had to feel him out, maybe he’d take it really casually, hopefully he didn’t even want anything further with you. hopefully he really meant lets just have fun.

on the way to the coffee shop on campus, the one you hung out at with chan not that long ago, you ran every single scenario through your head. what you’d say, what he’d say, if he’d take it well, if he didn’t, you quickly realized you didn’t know jisung very well. getting hammered with someone, sitting on their shoulders and mindlessly making out with them numerous times does not make for getting to know someone well. it was fun, though– until it wasn’t. 

if under different circumstances, that could’ve been one of the best nights of your life, and it very well still might be if this conversation goes well and you can let go of your embarrassment. 

with all intentions of ripping off the bandaid, no time to waste, you rip open the door to the coffee shop and rush inside, your adrenaline quickly fading at the sheer volume inside the coffee shop. or, you should say, lack of volume. 

you weren’t sure if all eyes were on you or if you made that up as you look around, avoidant of all eyes until you see the ones you came here for, chocolate and covered in big, thin frames. a smile spreads across your face as you walk toward the mop of curly hair just sticking out of a booth, slipping in the leather seat across from him. 

“hey,” his smile is shy, nervous. your jacket is folded neatly beside him, two cups of coffee in front of him. “i wasn’t sure what you like, so i got you an iced americano.”

“oh my god, jisung, you didn’t have to get me anything,” you say, shaking your head, but the smile hasn’t left your face. “thank you so much.” 

“no problem, i have your jacket, too,” his own smile grows as you take a sip of the coffee, no trace of discontent on your face. “are you feeling better?” 

“so, so much better,” embarrassment creeps up on you, “i’m so sorry for leaving how i did.” 

“it’s totally okay, i hope it wasn’t anything i did?” one side of his face scrunches, and you want to pinch his full cheeks. 

“no!” you exclaim, probably a little too loud. you quiet your voice, “it had nothing to do with you, it was self sabotage, really. i had such a good time with you, i wish it was under different circumstances. i know that doesn’t make sense.” 

“i feel like i kinda put the pieces together,” he purses his lips, fingers wrapping around his coffee cup, and you know that means please explain. 

you sigh, “i’m gonna preface by apologizing, i’m sorry if this is shitty, but it’s true. i was seeing this guy and i ended things with him, but it wasn’t on good terms. i figured getting drunk at a music festival would be my best bet to forget all about it, to make myself feel better, but clearly that wasn’t very smart.” 

jisung lifts a brow, “so the older guy that chan told me you were seeing…”

you cringe, “yeah, that would be him. that wasn’t smart of me, either.” 

jisung nods, “i understand. you knew i was interested in you though, right?” 

“yeah,” you breathe, “chan told me.” 

jisung sits back into the booth, his lips pursed again in thought. you bite your lip in the silence, waiting for him to say something. “hold on, i just want to make sure i’m understanding. you knew i was interested in you, and you came onto me, knowing that your heart was broken already and it wasn’t going anywhere.” 

you deflate, guilt rising in your throat like bile. your head drops forward, “again, jisung i am so sorry, i know it’s so unfair to you. if there’s anything i can do-” 

“i still like you,” he says simply, “which is stupid, but i do. i had a really good time with you on saturday and i thought we clicked really well, was that the alcohol? were you faking? just doing what you had to do to get over some other guy?” 

you stare at him, eyes widening, stumbling over your words. “what- no, jisung, i wasn’t faking it, i did have a really good time with you.” 

“you didn’t even ask chan for my number,” he argues, folding his arms over his chest. “i know i sound like a brat right now, but i genuinely feel kind of played. used, even.” 

“jisung, i thought you at least had a semblance of what was going on… you said let’s just have fun,” your voice was weak, nearly trembling as guilt and embarrassment made a carbonated cocktail in your gut.

“you think i agreed to be a rebound?” he raises his eyebrows and they sit higher than the frames of his glasses. “who in their right mind would agree to that?” 

you let out a breath of defeat. “jisung, i am so sorry, genuinely. you’re right, it was a shitty thing for me to do. if there’s anything i can do to fix it, please tell me.” 

“there’s nothing to do, i’m just sad, yanno?” his mouth stretches to one side, “all of our friends got along, it sounds stupid but i felt like i was looking into the future with just that one night.” 

that had tears welling in your eyes, but you kept them there. for the sake of your pride and not wanting to come off as manipulative– what the hell else could go wrong for you? 

“it doesn’t sound stupid,” you sigh, “and thank you for being so honest with me. i am so, so genuinely sorry for making you feel used and played, that was not my intention. can i tell you something?” 

he nods, then picks up his coffee to take a sip. you clasp your hands together atop the table and take a breath, “the tall one, yunho, told me that i should be twenty two and just live, to do whatever i want because i almost started dating a thirty year old. i was being selfish, the only thing i was thinking about was me and what i wanted, i wasn’t thinking about anyone else.” 

“this isn’t me making excuses, or defending myself in any way, but i haven't been dating for long, like barely six weeks, and i’m trying to navigate the whole idea of it. who i want, what i want, how i should act, what i should do– saturday isn’t how i’d normally act, i’ve never made out with someone i just met that day, i’ve never acted like that in front of so many people. i am so, so sorry you got that side of me, jisung. i am still learning, and i know at my big age that’s something i should know already, but unfortunately it’s not and you got hurt because of it.” 

you take a deep breath, “i know it’s not fair to you, and it’s wrong that i hurt you, i am not making excuses for myself. again i am so sorry, but thank you for telling me, for your honesty. you’re teaching me with this conversation.” 

jisung stares at you for a moment, before his lips twitch upward ever so slightly. “my first impression of you was that you were hot and untouchable, for some reason i feel a lot better after hearing all of that.” 

you stare back in shock, completely taken aback for a moment until a sound of amusement rips from your chest. “what the hell does that mean?” 

jisung giggles, “you’re just like me, you loser.”

“loser?” you gasp, “i am not a loser. go back to being mad at me immediately.” 

he takes another sip from his coffee, “thank you for apologizing, and owning up to all of that. this dating shit is not for the weak, i can understand where you’re coming from. does this mean i get a second shot?” you open your mouth to speak, but he interrupts, laying a hand on your jacket. “before you answer, i can hold this jacket hostage easily.” 

“i’ll make a deal with you,” you smile, “if i get my shit together and learn how to act right, then it’s me who will get a second shot with you. no need to hold my baby hostage.” 

he nods, “i’m not mad at that deal, but only come crawling back if you learned a lesson or two.” 

“maybe even three,” you nod, “are we okay?” 

“more than okay, tiny. next music festival we go to, you’re back on my shoulders again.”

your cheeks flush at the nickname, “no place i’d rather be.” 

after a few more minutes of conversation and an awkward goodbye, you left the coffee shop with an iced americano and your jacket in tow. you pull your phone from your pocket, a few unread messages on the screen, the first one catching your eye. 

4:06 pm unknown: is this who i think it is lol

you raise an eyebrow at the screen as you sip your drink, immediately responding. 

you: um idk you texted me dawg you: who is this

your walk back to the parking lot was slower than usual, your adrenaline was long gone, you were sure the conversation you just had only aided in making you slower. when you sat in the driver's seat of your car, the number still hadn’t responded, so you checked your other messages. 

3:12 pm yeo: want ramen yeo: craving ramen bad rn

you audibly say fuck to an empty car, if you’d gotten to answer just an hour earlier... 

you: YES you: am i too late you: pls tell me u didnt get already

you stare at your phone, waiting on an answer, tapping your foot along the floor of your car. 

yeo: got u spicy miso yeo: and extra egg yeo: u should be home by now

you: i love u soooooo hard you: ill kiss u  you: omw you: han jisung just read me for FILTH

you turned your car on and booked it out of the parking lot, forgetting all about the unknown number that texted you. the drive was quick, jungle playing through your speakers from start to end, your driveway filled with cars belonging to your friends. you saw ace’s closest to the garage, and reia’s parked right beside him– do any of these people ever have class?

“i’m home, give me my ramen immediately,” you say as you walk through the door, kicking your shoes off in the foyer. 

“hi to you too, teens,” matt answers from the living room, and you look up, everyone was sitting on the couches— matt, your mom, yeosang, ace, reia, yunho, san and vivi. 

“jesus christ,” you say, horrified at the literal army staring at you, “didn’t realize i had such an audience, were all of you waiting for little ol’ me?” 

ace snorts, digging his hand into the bag of chips between him and his girlfriend, “we’re watching episodes of america's funniest home videos on youtube.”  

“oh my god, pause it?” you yell, sprinting through the hallway to get your hopefully hot ramen from the kitchen. in all its glory, your ramen was still hot, in the middle of the island in a red to-go container, chopsticks still untouched laid on top of the lid. 

“how was class honey?” your mom asks from the living room as you damn near ripped the chopsticks apart and flung the lid off the top of the bowl.

“class was class,” you answer as you sip your broth, making sure the temperature was just right. you smiled in delight, it's perfect. “got my jacket back, han jisung ripped me a new asshole, though.” 

“what the hell does that mean? who’s han jisung?” your mom asks as you made it to the living room, her expression was nothing short of horrified.

you chuckled at her expression as you neared the couch, “chan’s friend, he basically said i was fucked up and the worst person to ever exist for playing him and using him at the music fest.” 

“what?” san asked, a bewildered expression on his face. “all you did was kiss the guy, that’s an insane accusation.” 

you shrug, facing the couch. “i kinda get it, i didn’t ask for his number or anything, i just kissed him a bunch and let him buy me drinks, then i didn’t speak to him again until i needed my jacket back.” 

you look at the seating arrangements on the couch and blink twice, silently telling the eight of them to make room on the massive sectional. matt interrupts and your shoulders tense, “that doesn’t sound like you, tiny.” 

vivi moved to the end of the chaise and san pivoted to the corner, leaving space between himself and yunho. you ignored the feeling in your stomach as you sat between the two, “how would you know, matt?” 

he sighs as you pull your legs under you, mixing your noodles around in the bowl. “i know you, whether you want to admit it or not, and playing around with some random guy’s feelings doesn’t sound like you at all. what happened to that nice guy? mingi?” 

“mingyu,” you correct him, “he just didn’t work out, and it wasn’t my intention to play with his feelings, i was just taking yunho’s advice.” 

“let’s not throw me under the bus, all i said was that you shouldn’t date a thirty year old because you’re still young and inexperienced,” yunho defends himself from beside you, and you smirk in response because you totally did just throw him under the bus. 

“yunho,” your mom whines, “we liked him, he was great!” 

“yeah, but what if tiny was engaged in six months? at twenty two years old? would we all be team mingyu then?” ace counters, “yunho did teens a favor if you ask me.” 

“no one is asking you,” you grumble, then take a massive bite of your ramen, shoveling it in your mouth. that iced americano did nothing to curb your hunger. 

“tiny, i don’t think you should be dating anymore,” matt shakes his head, speaking in his best parent voice, and you point your gaze at him from across the couch, shooting daggers with a mouth full of ramen. “it’s clearly bringing nothing good to your life, you can tell your cousins that you and your ‘boyfriend’ broke up.” 

“that’s like, the worst thing she could do,” vivi speaks up from the end of the couch, “karina and sakura will have a field day with that information, she’d never hear the end of it.” 

you give vivi an appreciative look the best you could with a mouth full of noodles, you think that’s the first time that’s ever happened. 

“you’re going to end up with irreparable damage done to you, like an STD, or something worse,” matt says, flailing his hands around as he speaks. your irritation grows as if it was being shot directly into your bloodstream.

you finally swallow your noodles, “do you think i’m going around fucking anybody and everybody?” 

“language,” he replies, “no, i don’t. but i think you should be careful—”

“i think you should keep your opinions to yourself,” you bring your bowl down to your lap, licking the broth off your bottom lip. “i’m an adult and i will do what i want with who i want, if i end up with an STD i’ll take my adult self to the doctors with my adult license and my adult car.” 

“with your adult insurance that isn’t mine?” matt counters, his voice raising. “because as much as you think you’re an adult, you’re still a child living under my roof.” 

“oh no,” ace mumbles under his breath, his forehead going into the space between his thumb and index finger. he’s heard this argument before. 

you let out a dry laugh as the heat grows exponentially, “your roof?” your laugh gets louder and your vision turns red, “you still really think it’s your roof? it’s my dad’s roof, my dad’s money that pays for all of this. i’ve seen the checks.” 

your mom scolds you from across the couch with your name, your actual name, and her voice is loud, laced with a tone you only hear when you argue with her husband. “you do not speak to him that way.” 

“why not? it’s not like he’s my fucking father,” you bite back, venom on your tongue. 

“you still speak to him with some fucking respect,” she was always best at giving back what you gave in the first place tenfold, “we were all just fine down here until you got home.” 

you lurch forward, “until i got home? how about until he opened his big mouth? you know what,” you stood up from your spot, bowl of ramen still in hand, “i’ll eat in my room since i’m the problem here. enjoy your show.” 

you stomp up the stairs, steam shooting from your ears. it felt immature, the pang of feeling fucking stupid was the only thing that followed you up the hardwood staircase, not a pair of footsteps came with it. good, you hoped they were all enjoying themselves down there, without you. 

no matter how idiotic it felt to fight with your mother’s husband in a room full of people, you couldn’t help it. something about matt, his incessant need to parent you, to get under your skin, to act like your father when he wasn’t him– it drove you up a wall. nothing else in your life triggered your short fuse, nothing else set you off the way he did. it happened all the time, you couldn’t stop it, you couldn’t fix it, you didn’t want to. 

it didn’t take long eating alone at your desk until your eyes caught the framed picture of your dad, and the cogs in your brain came to a full stop and your anger completely dissipated, replaced with a sadness and an ache only he could fill. 

──────  ꨄ︎

12:07 am unknown: that girl from the bar weds night? unknown: ur friends left ur number on the receipt when they closed out, i assumed u told them to lol

you curse yourself friday morning for not staying up later. 

8:21 am you: ohhh this is seonghwa? you: i did not ask them to do that lmaooo but they're real ones you: hey <3

to your surprise, he’s quick to answer. you blink back exhaustion and yawn, sitting up in your bed– you need full brain power to play the game. 

seonghwa: damn and i actually texted when u didn’t even want it seonghwa: im sick

you: LMFAOOOO you're up early you: didn't stay out late?

seonghwa: nah, working first shift at my other job seonghwa: could say the same about u seonghwa: except u didn’t text me back so im guessing ur well rested

you: omg two jobs a hardworking man! you: i have class so im up early either way 

you didn’t get a text back within a few minutes, so you got up a little earlier and went downstairs to make coffee. it was already brewing on the pot as you reached the kitchen, so you got your mug and oat milk out, ready to pour when the pot allowed you to. 

“you good?” ace asked as he walked into the kitchen, shirtless and in flannel pajama pants, scratching his clearly slept on head. 

you nodded, back pressed against your island, staring at the pot as if it’d make the coffee brew any faster. ace walked to your side, “you don’t have to get so defensive with him, you know.” 

you looked up at him through flattened brows, “fuck off.” 

“i’m serious,” he argues, “he means well, only has your best interest in mind. let him in sometimes.” 

a sarcastic smile plays on your lips, “like i said, fuck off.” 

“alright,” your twin shrugs, “i tried. don’t come crying to me when you’re over this immature bullshit and vivi and i have a relationship with him and you don’t.” 

“it’s too fucking early for this,” you groan, your head falling back. “i don’t need to hear this from you, anyone else is fine, but from you? keep your nose out of it.” 

“okay, tiny,” he shakes his head as the coffee pot dings, letting you know it’s ready. you make your regular cup and head back up to your room, sitting at your vanity with your phone face up. as if on cue, it lights up. 

seonghwa: i keep forgetting ur a student thats crazy seonghwa: with the tip u left me i feel like i owe u something. meanwhile ur a baby

you smile at your screen. 

you: im 22, not a baby you: you don’t owe me anything but if this is your way of saying you wanna see me then i’ll take it

seonghwa: im 26, thought i was gonna have to soft block u

you: that’s a hard block, how do u even know what that is? you're basically prehistoric

seonghwa: prehistoric is craaaaazy

you giggle, at least yeosang’s insult was good for something. you gather all of your products to do your hair and makeup, setting them up in the order of use in front of you.  

you: anyways, about seeing me?

seonghwa: still on the fence seonghwa: still not flexible 

you: only one of us has to be

seonghwa: im free after my shift tonight, but i work early in the morning so i'll be kicking ur ass out early if need be

you: i wont lie, that was easier than i thought it'd be you: give me a time and a place and im there

as you got ready for the day, your body was on fire with excitement, a wide grin on your face. he put up such a front on wednesday— who would’ve guessed how easily you’d tear his walls down?

classes went by with a breeze, you were inching closer to the short but much needed thanksgiving break, then the lengthy winter break when the real fun began. the only looming thought was the closer you get to thanksgiving break, the closer you get to thanksgiving. you, still boyfriendless– you let the thought pass by without rattling your nerves. you’d be getting one step closer tonight. 

seonghwa still hadn’t answered with a time or place after classes ended, even if it was only around three pm, you tried to not let it bother you. were you going to his place? then technically it’s not a date. 

it could be a date– it depends what you’d be doing at his place. you wondered what it looked like. you know he has two jobs, he clearly takes care of himself well, you imagined it looked similar to hyunjin’s apartment. dim, cozy, spacious, decorated well, maybe a bit on the more editorial side of furnishing a place, taking in seonghwa’s overall vibe. 

you began floating again, once more in dreamland, excited to get to know seonghwa. someone new, not in the bubble of people you’ve somehow created, someone on the outside. you didn’t meet him on a date with someone else, he isn’t a friend of a friend, he’s someone fresh, that no one knows. well, except julie and giselle, but for the sake of the moment, they don’t count. you convinced yourself into having high hopes– now he just needed to text you back. 

after class, you busied yourself with homework, even going into next week’s workload– still no text back. you were stumped, and no one else was even home to cure your boredom. you cleaned your room, changed your sheets, did laundry– took an everything shower, ate dinner, you were trying not to lose your mind by the time it hit seven, and still no one was home. 

why is no one in your house when you’re going crazy, but it’s a full house every other damn time?

he said he was working a shift tonight, was that at the bar? was he closing? that meant he might not be off until midnight. you sat on your bed, fully lotioned in your robe, with your index finger pressed to your lips. this was starting to look more and more like a booty call situation, and that was not what you were interested in. you had half a mind to text him first. 

you: i guess not then… 

no, that seemed too desperate. 

you: hello??

what if he thinks you’re clingy already and calls off the whole ordeal? 

you: if you want me to come over just to fuck i can tell u rn im not interested

now you just look flat out insane. you sigh, falling back against your bed, towel flying off of your head with the force you pinned yourself down with. you pulled your phone back up to your face. 

7:48 pm seonghwa: hey sorry i ran late for my other job i didn’t have time to answer seonghwa: im not closing tho so i should be okay for like 9:30?

a shriek leaves your lips and you sit straight up again, thank god you didn’t send any of those messages. you take a deep breath, beckoning your heart rate to slow down before typing out a response. you’d think after going on so many dates you’d be a little more casual… 

you: ur totally fine, are u sure ur not too tired? we can do another night

seonghwa: i don’t have another night unfortunately lol unless you wanna wait another week seonghwa: i get it if that’s too late or whatever

you pop a brow, he doesn’t have another night? what the hell does he do with all of his time, or lack of? 

you: no that’s fine, just lmk when ur off

seonghwa: [location:attached]

you hear the front door open downstairs and roll your eyes, fantastic timing for people to get home. your issue has already been solved. you supposed if he didn’t have any free time, it wasn’t a booty call situation, but really the only time he had to spend with someone else– your curiosity was more than sparked. at least you’d have things to talk about. 

you weren’t on edge getting ready, maybe you were getting more seasoned at this dating thing than you thought. you were grateful for it, though, especially since you assumed you were going to his place, most businesses were closed after nine except bars, you figured it was safe to assume he didn’t want to go to one after just leaving one. 

in the same lounge set you wore to see hyunjin, when seonghwa texted you that he was off his shift you were already ready to go. you assumed your parents were in bed already when you went downstairs, and you could hear the boys yelling from the basement, that meant they were on the game. a part of you ached that you hadn’t seen them since last night, but you brushed it off, you were leaving the house in stealth mode. if they didn’t know, they couldn’t meddle. 

seonghwa didn’t live far from the bar he worked at– which wasn’t far from campus at all. it was a quick drive, and parking was easy in his development. that was a weight lifted off your shoulders. 

the complex was mid-sized, three massive apartment buildings in a straight line. each building had the same makeup from the outside: gray siding, a black patio, two black front doors on either side of a staircase. the cement staircase led up to the next floor, which had two more doors on either side of the platform, and then one or two more floors that repeated. you’d never been here before– you wondered if you knew anyone else that lived in the complex, maybe someone that went to your school. 

seonghwa opened his front door before you made it up the cement walkway, a small smile on his face, “you were quick, i literally just walked in the door.”

your cheeks flush as you walk through the threshold into his apartment, “i’m a fast driver.”

“you look put together,” he says as you make your way in, and you whip your head around to look at him, not exactly sure how to take the comment, but his back was to you. 

“is that a compliment, or?” you trail off, slipping your boots off your feet. he let out a noise of amusement through his nose as he closed the door behind you, but he didn’t answer your question. 

“sorry, i had my siblings this week, they just went back to my mom this morning,” he ran a hand through his hair as he walked past you, “excuse the mess.” 

“not at all,” you looked around– the mattress from his bed was on his living room floor, if you could call it a living room, blankets and pillows thrown everywhere. “your place is adorable, it’s homey.”

it was also the last thing you expected from his place– far from hyunjin’s, far from anything you imagined. 

“i brought home food from the bar before the kitchen closed, if you’re hungry at all,” you followed him to his table that was just outside of the kitchen, the only place that was enclosed by a wall beside his bathroom, “it’s just chicken tenders and fries, there’s drinks in the fridge.  i’m gonna go take a shower.” 

he didn’t even look back at you before he slipped into the bathroom that was off the side of the kitchen, the only actual room in the whole place. you took a breath and pulled out a chair, cringing as it scratched against the light hardwood floor, cringing even more as it creaked when you sat down. before you pulled apart the to-go boxes, you took a moment to really look at seonghwa’s place.

it was clearly a studio apartment– almost a fully open floor plan, which you didn’t think was common for a complex like his. behind you was the kitchen, small but functional, it had a white stove with criminally old burners– you wondered if stoves that old still passed inspection these days– and beyond was a light wood countertop, save for a silver sink stuck directly in the center of the slab of wood. next to the stove was a washing machine which popped an eyebrow from you, you’d never seen one in a kitchen before. above was matching cabinets, one was missing a handle, the other two were a faded brass color. his fridge was small and white, a freezer beneath it, covered in little pieces of paper with drawings in crayon, streaks of red and blue across the pages, held up by alphabet magnets.  

how old were his siblings? 

you almost got out of your seat to look at the radiator, you’d only seen them in movies, it was like you had stepped back in time. the massive windows above the radiators that opened in the middle were breathtaking, you could only imagine cleaning on summer mornings, opening the windows to let fresh air in, music playing throughout the space.

the small table and chairs you were sitting at were placed more towards the common area, or living room you supposed, to tie the areas together. a wall separated the kitchen from the living room, which was openly connected to his bedroom, only a desk between his couch and bed– that didn’t have a mattress on it. 

his mattress was laid out in front of the couch, a mess of pillows and blankets thrown on top, his coffee table moved to the end of his bed. his wardrobe hung on clothing racks against the wall at the end of his bed, with a tv to the right, facing the couch. 

everything was so condensed into such a small space, you wondered how the hell he lived like this. you were positive you couldn’t even fit all the contents of your bedroom into a space this small. there was closet space directly next to the front door, and you wondered what he kept in there if all of his own clothes were out on display– a pit in your stomach grew, you felt bad for him. 

you unpackaged the to-go containers from the plastic bag, laying them out side by side, one box for chicken tenders and the other for fries. would it be rude if you checked his fridge for ketchup? 

you bit into a fry, feeling a little awkward with the only sound in the whole place coming from the bathroom. the muffled noise of running water should be more comforting than it is, but you couldn’t find any comfort in the situation you were in. you tucked your feet up onto the chair, wrapping one arm around your knees, the other grabbing another fry from the container. 

after what feels like hours, you hear the squeak of the knob until the water finally shuts off, and seonghwa walks back out into the open space in nothing but a towel tied around his waist. you tried your best not to gawk, but his body made it impossible– lean and muscular with droplets of water cascading down his skin, you almost felt wrong for looking. 

what made you actually turn your head was when he walked over to his clothing rack and dropped the towel. you gasped, wide eyes focusing on the to-go containers instead, blinking rapidly. he just got fully naked in front of you without saying more than three sentences to you, you think you either got yourself into a weird situation or he was just really comfortable with himself. 

maybe you should’ve told the others where you were going. 

barely a minute went by before he was next to you at the table, black sweatpants hung low on his hips as he sat backwards on the chair beside yours. he bit into a chicken tender, running a hand through his wet hair, shaking it out ever so slightly. 

you blinked at him, wondering if you were invisible. you cleared your throat, “i saw the pictures on your fridge, did your siblings draw them?” 

he shakes his head, face completely serious as he says, “i drew them, what do you mean?” you blink at him twice, honestly believing him before he smiles. “yeah, they drew them for me in school. cute, right?” 

you return the smile, a semblance of warmth returning to your body. “so cute, how old are they?” 

“four and six,” he says, and as if he was beating you to asking the question yourself, he adds, “my mom had me stupid young, had them stupid late.” 

“those are fun ages, though,” you grab another fry, “do they stay with you often?” 

“they are not fun ages, and they’re with me during the week, they see my mom on the weekends,” he shrugs as if that’s normal. your chest aches, you wonder about their situation. 

“oh,” you want to smack yourself across the face– you have so many questions, and all you can muster is oh? at the same time, you’re a little scared to pry, you don’t usually have trouble navigating conversations with anyone, but seonghwa was more than intimidating. you try a different route, “i have two siblings, too, a twin and a younger sister.” 

“you have a twin?” he raises his eyebrows, “is she hot, too?” 

“she is a he,” you correct him, “but if that doesn’t matter, we do look freakishly similar for being fraternal twins, yes.”

“how old is your younger sister?” he asks, grabbing a few fries from the container closer to you. you try not to get distracted by his fingers as they pass you. 

“sixteen, that’s the age that’s not fun. after thirteen, girls are insane until they’re in their twenties,” you joke, stretching one leg back to the floor. 

“girls are still insane in their twenties,” he doesn’t even look at you when he says it, his voice completely flat. “the six year old is a girl, nari, she’s an angel, it’s jun that’s a fucking menace.” 

“a menace?” you giggle, “how so?” 

“look at my living room,” he looks over to the mattress, blankets and pillows strewn about the floor. you cringe. “they usually sleep in my bed and i sleep on the couch, but he insisted we have a sleepover, and didn’t stop scream-crying until i moved the mattress to the living room. that was three nights ago and i still haven’t been able to move it back without him flipping out.” 

“aw,” your heart warms at the thought, you wish vivi wanted to spend time with you, too. your relationship could be so different. “he just wanted to be close to you.” 

“he wants to live inside my skin,” he doesn’t sound happy to say it, but you could see the faint smile on his face. “i’d let him, if i could. they’re growing up too fast.” 

“pretty soon nari will be the one whipping you into shape,” you lean onto the table, resting an elbow on the surface. “my sister does not let me breathe– everything i do is a problem. she makes fun of me for being single, for being lactose intolerant, for being mad at her when she steals my clothes. when i tell her to get off my back, she tells me i need to see a therapist.”

“sounds like typical sibling shit,” he pops a fry in his mouth, “it’s cool that you guys are close in age, though, at least she doesn’t slip up and call you mom.”

the ache in your chest gets worse– you can’t help but pry a little. “they call you dad?” 

“they’re four and six and see their mom eight days out of the month,” he lets out a dry laugh, “we don’t even share a dad and somehow i am their dad. we don’t have to get into it.” 

with that sentence, a part of you wants to get into it. he didn’t mention his dad once, and it could be the one thing you have in common– you keep it in your back pocket, not wanting to push him further. you sit in a beat of silence before you ask, “what’s your other job? you said you work two?” 

“three,” he corrects you, bringing a hand to rub his eyes. he did look tired. “i’m a bartender, an electrician and i pick up shifts at another restaurant downtown on the weekends sometimes.” 

you wonder where his siblings were on wednesday night. “damn,” you say under your breath, “i almost feel bad for being here.”

“don’t be, i invited you,” he shook his head once, “wouldn’t have done that if i didn’t want company. what do you do?” 

god, it felt so wrong to say you didn’t work one job compared to his three. “uh, i’m a student. full time.” 

“ah,” he nods without a single reaction to you being unemployed, “what are you in school for? wait, let me guess.” 

“psych major.”

“no.” 

“communications?”

“no.”

“damn. nursing?” 

“no.”

“damn!” he laughs, and the sound is music to your ears. finally, some emotion. “i’m stumped.”

“education,” you laugh with him, “i want to be an elementary school teacher.” 

“is there a story involved as to why you want to teach? or you just like kids?” he finishes off the plate of fries, looking at you like he was fully interested in what you had to say. it helps ease more of the tension you weren’t sure was one sided.

“no story, i just like kids,” you nod, and cross one leg over the other. “i’ll start student-teaching soon, so maybe i’ll see jun or nari in my classes.” 

“i’ll tell them to bully the fuck outta you,” he gets up from his chair, closing the to-go containers and stacking them on the table, a smile on his face. “tell junie to do all of this to your classroom.”

“none of my business as long as i’m student teaching,” you counter, “i’ll encourage him behind the real teacher’s back. maybe even give him new ways to make forts in your living room.” 

“speaking of my living room,” he says as he walks toward the mattress, stopping just before it with his hands on his hips, looking over his shoulder at you. “should i move it back? or should we ignore it and sit on the couch like it’s not even there?” 

“we could always lay on it,” you offer, “i’m not too old for a sleepover if you’re not.” 

he smiles, then without answering, bends down to sort out the blankets. you get up from your spot at the table and pad over the hardwood floor to where he stood, helping him lay out the blankets a little nicer– even if you’d ruin them by getting onto the bed, anyways. it scratched an itch you didn’t realize needed scratching. 

as you get comfortable on the bed, sitting at the top so your backs are leaned up against his couch, you ask, “why did you invite me over, anyways?” 

he looks at you inquisitively, an eyebrow raised as if he didn’t understand your question. you rephrase, “you said you don’t hook up with people from the bar, i’m wondering why you said yes to me.” 

he faces forward, thinking about it for a moment before he answers. “if i’m being honest, it was circumstantial. you texted me this morning, and i was in the mood to say yes.” 

your jaw drops, “i feel like i should take offense to that.”

he shrugs, “if you want to, go ahead. i don’t hook up with people from the bar because all it does is create drama, and my hands are full enough as it is. i haven’t seen you there before, and i have a feeling i won’t see you there again, and somehow your number ended up in my possession, so… here you are.”

you blink up at him, you don’t think you’ve ever spoken to anyone so blunt, so careless as him– no, it’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s that his priorities are elsewhere. women and relationships are not at the forefront of his mind, it’s his siblings– his family. the ache in your chest gets heavier. 

“your silence is freaking me out,” he interrupts your thoughts, “don’t think i just invited you over here to fuck you, i don’t care about that. it was really your persistence, and not the dimwitted kind of persistence that fawns over me and how i present myself– sorry if that sounds cocky.”

your smile grows as he speaks, but he shows no signs of stopping, “this sounds corny, but i have a lot of shit in my life, and for some reason i feel like you might… understand some of it, i guess. there’s a look on your face that tells me you aren’t just how you present yourself.”

you tilt your head, curious about his analysis of you, “what does how i present myself tell you about me?” 

“rich girl,” he says, adjusting himself so he’s facing you, his arm laid over the couch behind you both, “pretty, pretentious rich girl like every other girl at that bar who’s never had to work a day in her life. daddy’s money is my guess.” 

you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face. “you’re not entirely wrong.” 

you can’t read his expression, his eyes are pointed in a way that makes you think he can see through you. “but that can’t be all there is, you might walk around with your tiny purse and matching outfit and perfect hair, there has to be something else. something wrong.”

you cock your head to the side, “you think there’s something wrong with me?”

he smacks his lips, “poor verbiage. not something wrong, but you aren’t like the others who fling themselves over the bar in hopes that i’ll look in their direction, then curse me out when i don’t– i could definitely see you throwing a fit if something doesn’t go your way, which is half the reason i initially shut you down, by the way– but i have a hard time believing that your life has been all flowers and rainbows.” 

“ah,” you nod in understanding, “i get what you mean. so you invited me over to unpack all of my trauma and confirm that your theory is true?” 

seonghwa smiles from ear to ear, head rocking forward with a hearty laugh, you can’t stop yourself from laughing along with him. you continue, “i mean, no one’s life is all flowers and rainbows, everyone has their own shit they’ve had to work through. how can you tell all of that about me from meeting me one time?” 

“i work with the public,” he says as if it's self explanatory, “i meet a lot of people, especially being a bartender, i hear a lot of shit, and i’ve learned what shit looks like on different people. i remember you from the music festival, too– you were with that brown haired boy and you looked fucking miserable despite smiling and giggling with him like a teenager.” 

that takes you by surprise, your smile fades quick and your eyes widen under his gaze, but he holds it. “you were pretending to be happy, for your sake or his, i’m not sure.”

you gulp. “a little bit of both, probably,” you shift uncomfortably despite being on a literal mattress, feeling more seen than you were comfortable with. it seemed like he had a superpower, or maybe a curse, being able to read people so well– to see deeper than what others want you to see. 

“so, to answer your question,” he rests his head against his hand that was propped up by the couch, “the idea of you understanding me and my life is what intrigued me, and a fateful series of events caused me to say yes to seeing you again.” 

you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding, seonghwa may be twenty six but you think this has to be his eighth or ninth life on this earth just from his wisdom. you’ve never had anyone read you so fast, so clearly– be so blunt and honest without being hurtful. 

“you could’ve just said you thought i was really pretty, you know,” you joke, and he laughs again, then pats around the bed in search of something.

“there’s that pretentious rich girl coming through,” he jokes back, his voice light and airy, but that edge returns as he pats the mattress down a little harder, “fuck, i can’t find the remote.” 

“i don’t mind just talking,” you reach out to put a hand over his, and he physically relaxes, shoulders drooping, looking at you through black strands of hair that have fallen over his face. it made the shadows of his face deepen, the color of his eyes look somehow darker, he looked younger– different. 

“i’m used to background noise,” he shakes his head, then slips his hand out from under you to run it through his hair. “the quiet is so… quiet.” 

“is quiet okay?” you tilt your head, bringing your hand back into your lap. always having to entertain, feed and bathe two little kids on top of working three jobs was sure to be exhausting, you wondered how much quiet he actually got to experience. 

he nods, “yeah, quiet’s more than okay.” you couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto your face, how soft he looked in that moment with his hair half dried, eyes a little more hooded than they were before. you wonder how often he has people over his apartment, if he ever gets the chance to just talk, or let his frustrations out.

in that moment, you felt like you could understand him, at least a little more than before— he wore a hard exterior, made himself out to be a tough shell to crack, but it was in protection, preservation for what matters to him most. it made you look inward. you wished you looked at your family differently, you wished you thought of your siblings with more care, you wished at least a part of you sought to protect them at all times, like seonghwa did his own. 

they’re the only other two people in the world that have gone through everything you have, the only two people that could understand that part of you. they didn’t need to understand you fully, not when it came to your relationship problems, or why your room needed to be clean at all times, but what’s at your core? all your pain, all your grief, your loss, the very things that make you who you are? they understood that easily, when no one else could. 

instead of being jealous of vivi, for how young she was when your father passed, you wish you protected her childhood a little more. preserved her innocence, her naïvety, you wished you ushered her toward welcoming another father figure in her life instead of keeping her away. it’s a privilege, a strength, not everyone gets a second one, not everyone gets a first. ace had always been better at seeing the bigger picture than you.

you lay down on the mattress, sinking under the blankets, letting your head rest on the yellow pillowcase. “tell me more about your siblings.” 

seonghwa looks down at you, eyes full, heavy, shaped like the moon— he didn’t hesitate in telling you everything about them. their favorite colors, their favorite subjects in school, little stories about them growing up. his entire face lit up when he said their names, he told you funny stories about hectic mornings getting ready for school, a scary one about the one time his grandma forgot to pick them up from the bus stop. it was heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time, especially when you realized how little he spoke of his mother. eventually he moved down on the mattress, laying beside you on his back, only his head turned toward you in conversation, so comfortable on the topic he got physically comfortable, too.

“can i ask you a personal question?” you asked, both hands under your cheek, body turned on its side. it was cozy between you two, laying here, talking like this. sharing personal stories with someone you’d just met was never your cup of tea, but with seonghwa, you haven’t talked about anything other than personal topics.

“only if i get to ask you one in return,” he replies, and you shoot him a lazy smile— you could’ve bet money on that answer. 

“deal, but you don’t have to answer. why do you have them during the week, and your mom on the weekends?” 

he sighs, turning his head straight, looking up at his ceiling. the lights in his apartment were dim, cascading a faint yellow over his skin, over his living room. he didn’t seem hesitant to answer, instead choosing his words carefully. “it’s not court ordered, it’s our own kind of system, i guess.” 

“i was twenty when she had nari, she was thirty six. i was twenty two when she had jun, and she was thirty eight. after she had jun, their dad fled, just like mine did right after she had me.” 

you took a breath, heat rushing to your face. you knew it’d be personal, maybe hard to talk about, you didn’t expect him to share it so openly, without hesitation. 

“she was sixteen when she had me, so my entire upbringing was a little fucked up— i was like her friend growing up more than i was her son, my grandma raised me for the better half of my life. she was a wreck after he fled, we couldn’t reach him, couldn’t find him, she couldn’t believe it had happened again. she fell into a pretty deep depression, especially postpartum, and i didn’t trust her with the kids, nor did my grandma,” he used his hands as he spoke, but he didn’t look at you. he kept his face upward, staring at the ceiling, but he kept going. 

“my grandma and i took shifts, she watched them while i was at school, at work, then i came home and took over— that’s kinda the system we still have to this day. when i moved out and brought them here, my mom actually started to get better. she’s medicated now, more stable, but she’s not really the same, and i’m not sure she ever will be… so they ended up being my responsibility. i think they might always be,” he finally looked over to you, he didn’t look uncomfortable. he didn’t look sad or angry, but instead content, like everything that happened in his life was for a purpose. “i trust her enough now to have them on the weekends, and she’s never fought me on the ordeal. i couldn’t imagine my life any differently, it’s hard, but i wouldn’t want it any other way.” 

you didn’t realize there were tears in your eyes, let alone falling down your face until seonghwa hopped up on one elbow, his other arm swinging over to wipe a tear off of your cheek. “don’t cry for me.” 

“i’m sorry, i can’t help it,” you sniff, hands coming up to rub beneath your eyes. “just not what i expected.” 

“yeah?” he teased, “did you think i was just some hot bartender who invited you over to fuck your brains out? instead i’m sitting here talking about my sob story of a life?” 

you laughed through the tears, “kinda.” you both fell into laughter, but he stayed propped up on one elbow. “i’m happy that i asked, and thank you for sharing that with me. you’re incredible, i wouldn’t be able to handle half of what you do.” 

“i’m sure you do a fine job for your hot brother and annoying sister,” his voice was still light and teasing, his hand coming back to brush a hair out of your face. 

“ace has all of the strength, he’s the one who’s always looked out for me and vivi. i’m the coward,” you admit, shaking your head. 

“it’s my turn,” he says, and you don’t give him an answer. instead, you hold your breath, a small part of you was nervous for what he’d ask. “if you could go back in time and change anything, what would you change?” 

without missing a beat, you said, “i’d stop my dad from leaving the house the morning he passed.” 

“i knew it,” seonghwa said excitedly from beside you as if he had cracked the code, “i wasn’t expecting you to also be fatherless, but i knew there was something.” 

you couldn’t stop the snort before it happened, a fit of giggles taking over you so hard you fully turned over on the mattress. “fatherless—” you said through a laugh, “—is terrible!”

“well, am i wrong?” he was laughing too, small chuckles that he couldn’t contain, either. 

“no,” you turn back over, shaking your head, breaths of giggles still pushing through your words. “i do have a step dad, but i don’t like him.” 

“why not?” seonghwa asks, and instead of being propped up on one elbow, he shifts so he’s lying on his arm, his palm holding his head up, still on his side. 

you sigh, “he wants to be my dad. he’s been with my mom since i was thirteen-ish, my dad died when i was twelve. i guess i got it in my head when i was little that he was trying to replace him, and i haven’t gotten myself out of it.” 

seonghwa makes a face, one that doesn’t look pleased with your answer. “you realize how fucking stupid that sounds, right?” 

“you don’t know him,” you bark in defense, “he drives me insane. he always has something to say— about what i do, who i date, where i go, what i wear, what i’m eating? it’s ridiculous.” 

“sounds like he’s trying to be a father,” he deadpans, but his tone wasn’t malicious. “isn’t that what he signed up for? when he married a widow of three kids?” 

“i never wanted another father,” your voice was quieter now. you’ve heard all these words before, but they sounded different coming from him, from someone who doesn’t have half of what you do. 

“but you’re lucky to have another father figure, and it sounds like he’s still trying to be one after almost ten years of you pushing him away. take it from someone who’s dad never gave a fuck about him, if he wants to be in your life, you should let him,” he says, his voice harsh, but you can hear the truth in his tone. 

it's different from when your mom says it, different from when vivi or ace says it, too. taking seonghwa’s situation into account, he’s had it harder than you have— his father left, abandoned him and now he’s trying to be a father figure to kids that aren’t his own, without having had that parental figure in his life. with no one to learn from, and with much less resources than you have at hand. his advice holds heavier weight. 

“be grateful for what you do have,” he adds, his voice softer now, likely from reading your expression which you don’t doubt has gone completely sour. “your mom, your siblings, your stepdad, the privilege you have to live your rich pretentious girl life. don’t take anything for granted, trust me.” 

“i don’t know how to stop,” your voice was near a whisper now, “hating him— being this way, pushing him out, it’s all i’ve ever done, all i've ever known.” 

“what do you mean, you don’t know how to stop?” he lifts an eyebrow, “that’s an excuse. what do you do when you argue with your friends, and then you make up? you go back to normal, like nothing happened.” 

the thought of going back to normal with matt— normal is this, the fighting, the yelling, the insults, the wedge you stuck into your relationship almost ten years ago. you think about the night you asked him about whiskey, when you were excited to show off your skills to mingyu. how excited he was to show you his collection, to teach you all of his knowledge on whiskey, he probably thought that was a bonding moment for the two of you. did you even thank him for it? have you ever thanked him for anything, once in your life?

“if ace is the strong one and you’re the coward, then lean on him, let him be your strength.” he moves another piece of hair out of your face, trailing the back of his knuckles against your cheek. “sorry if i’m overstepping, i wasn’t planning on giving you a therapy session tonight. i couldn’t help it.” 

“no,” you shake your head, then bring your hand up to grab onto his, the one that was just against your face, holding it there. “you didn’t overstep, your advice— your perspective on it, all of it, i appreciate it a lot. thank you.” 

he smiles, it was tight lipped, but it was genuine. “i charge one hundred an hour for my sessions, by the way.” 

you let go of his hand, throwing it towards his chest with a laugh. “way to ruin the fucking moment, hwa.” 

“hey, i wouldn’t get anywhere in life if i handed out freebies to the rich, would i?” 

“and when you say i have daddy’s money, did it occur to you that it was dead daddy’s money all along?” 

“don’t matter to me as long as the bills are blue, baby.” 

the two of you exploded into laughter again, it was comforting sharing your dark humor with him, even more comforting that he shot it right back at you. you’d made plenty of dark jokes in your life which usually met with weird stares or awkward chuckles— but with him, the flow was different, it was raw and real. if you let yourself think about it for too long, it might even scare you how easy it felt with him. 

to know barely anything about one another and immediately jump into heavy conversation, to talk about such deep, dark things… that isn’t a connection you make easily. maybe seonghwa really did see something in you on wednesday, and if it was a fateful series of events that brought you to his bed today, maybe you should start praying more often so the gods would share more of their luck with you. 

you lay there for a minute longer after your laughing had subsided, remembering that the two of you were in an empty apartment, on a bed, and this is what the two of you had decided to do with your friday night. trauma and therapy. you supposed there wasn’t a proper time to get horny from the moment you walked in the door. 

you let out a huff of amusement through your nose at the thought and seonghwa turns his head to you, you missed when he moved to lay on his back again. “what’s funny?” he asks, a smile still playing on his lips— there was humor in the air, if you weren’t careful you’d both catch the giggles again. 

“you know the deepest shit about me and you haven’t even kissed me yet,” you turned your head to face him, your grin still stretched from ear to ear. 

“wanna know what else is funny?” he asks, and you nod. “you know the deepest shit about me, and you don’t even know my last name.” 

you think about it for a second, you don’t know his last name— but you can’t claim defeat so easily. “do you even know my first name?” 

he smacks his lips, looking at you as if you were insane. “do you think i’m a fucking monster?” you raised your eyebrows, unimpressed, because you never told him. “it was on the receipt from the bar, you paid with your card.” 

“you paid attention?” you ask, surprised. 

he smirks, then says your full name, and then starts reciting your entire credit card number from memory. 

you gasp, shooting up from your spot on the bed, sitting straight up. “seonghwa! that has to be illegal or something, how do you remember that?” 

he sits up too, shrugging, his demeanor turning cocky, “i have a good memory. what’s my last name, baby?” 

with that one question, with that name, the energy of the room shifted. you stay silent, keeping your lips pursed— you didn’t want him to know he was right. his smirk grows, head tilting to the side, his arms stretching behind him. you watch the muscles in his abdomen flex and curve, how the muscles in his shoulders became more defined with the movement. 

“come on, you wanna kiss me, don’t you?” his tone was taunting, inflection dipping and rising just to egg you on further, “work for it.” 

your eyes flickered to his mouth as he spoke, those devastatingly pink lips— “is this going to be another tease about making me work for something, for once in my life?” 

his smile grows, “you know me so well.” he uses his arms stretched behind him to haul himself to the top of the bed again, his back hitting the end of the couch as a makeshift headboard, then looks over to you, head tilted in thought. “i’m surprised you’re not running for the hills.” 

“why would i be?” your eyebrows furrow, expression clearly confused. “thought you scared me off?” 

he shrugs, as if to say maybe a little. you shake your head with a reassuring smile, “it takes more than a sad story to freak me out, seonghwa.” 

his head dips back, body shimmying down so he could rest it on the cushions of the couch, jughular on full display to you. you nearly lick your lips. he thinks out loud, “i can’t tell you the last time i had someone here.” 

your eyes widen— surprised at the realization he isn’t hooking up with people weekly, even more surprised at the sheer honesty. you crawl up next to him, wanting to touch him in some way, scared to make the first move. 

“is it still okay that i am?” you wonder, reality looming above you again, it wasn’t just you that had the option to run for the hills. as much as he shared with you, you shared with him, as shallow as your issues seemed compared to his own. you shared a similar darkness, but his reality was still much different than yours. 

he lifts his head back up, face inches from yours and you hadn’t realized how close you’d gotten. his features are so sharp, it makes the simplest gaze in your direction feel intense. you don’t shrink under his eyes, instead you stare back with a question in your own, awaiting his answer— patiently. 

“if you left right now, i’d be more disappointed than i’m willing to admit.” 

you smile, eyes drifting down to his lips again, then back up to his eyes. you wanted to feel his lips on yours, you wanted him, whatever he’d give you, you’d take greedily. your voice was quieter now, huskier, a blanket of lust making it sound velvety when you replied, “i’m not going anywhere.” 

he leans in, a faint ghost of a smirk on his lips, his entire attitude changing. “figured out my last name yet?” 

“if i say no?” you reply, playing into the game he had started with you, holding his gaze with his mouth centimeters from yours. you could feel his breath hot on your lips, god you wanted to close the distance, you needed it after all you’d just shared with each other. 

“i’ll have you spelling it out for me before i’m done with you,” you might’ve moaned at his words if he didn’t take your lips with his own after he said it. 

sweet yet heavy, seonghwa kissed you like he’d been waiting hours to do it. he had you on flat on your back with no time to waste, your head hitting the yellow pillowcase once more, the pink blanket you had covered yourself with still between your bodies. you arched up into him, hands immediately roaming his skin, feeling every dip and curve of muscle on his abdomen, his chest, his shoulders. you were panting into the kiss before you knew it, legs trapped beneath the blanket, beneath the weight of his body, you were more than eager. 

his mouth moved to your jaw, placing hot, wet kisses along the skin before his tongue trailed along the bone from your chin to your ear. you let out a noise you knew you’d be embarrassed about later, abdomen clenching as your hands fled for his hair– it all happened so fast, your brain was fogged over before you knew it, a cloud of sheer lust and an adoration for him sweeping you under. 

he ripped the blanket from between you with a grunt of frustration, throwing it to the side, likely onto the hardwood floor beside the mattress. his hands finally touched you and you all but melted into him, whimpers and mewls leaving your throat as his fingers danced over the space between your top and pants, body reacting far too much when you weren’t doing anything yet. 

“here i thought i was touch starved,” he teased, lips right under your ear, he had just finished harshly sucking a spot into your skin. “listen to you, making all those pretty noises for me.” 

“shut up,” you say through a breath, your eyes closed, head digging into the pillow beneath you. your legs hooked over his back, desperate for friction, for anything. “just touch me.”

“is that any way to ask for what you want?” he pulls back, arms holding him up, he looked so good above you. with that question, you knew all too well what game seonghwa liked to play, what made him tick. luckily for the both of you, you were into it too. he smirks, “as much as i love how desperate you are for me, you didn’t even say please.” 

you whine, but quickly reel it in– you know this game, you’ve played this game before. “i’m sorry,” you quickly gushed out, “please touch me, seonghwa.” 

“seonghwa, what?” his tongue peeks out of his lips, his smirk turning devilish. you could feel your panties dampen at the action. “what’s my last name, baby?” 

you take a deep breath, words coming out like a moan, “i don’t know.” 

he chuckles, it sounded saccharine. his head dipped down again, taking your lips between his, letting the weight of his hips crash into you. you moaned at the contact, hips immediately hooking around his, your core grinding up into him. 

you weren’t expecting him to moan too. a fire set ablaze from your head all the way down to your toes, every inch of your skin burning. so mindless, guttural, like he needed release just as much as you did– it pulled you under even deeper. 

“let me taste you,” you mumbled into his lips, and his tongue swiped against your bottom lip, messy and hot and nasty. “please, let me? wanna suck your cock.”

his head fell into the crook of your neck with a groan, stilling himself for a moment before he flipped you both over. sitting with his back against the couch again, he looked down at you through flattened brows, his expression not here nor there. he was just as gone as you were. 

he lifted his hips for you to pull his sweatpants down, just far enough for his cock to spring up, slapping its heavy weight against his stomach. your mouth filled with saliva, you could feel your eyes glaze over– long, veiny, not too thick– an angry red tip with precum smeared around the top half of him… if you opened your mouth, you’d drool. 

“so hot, fuck,” you mumble under your breath, sitting between his legs, then dip your head down to spit the contents of your mouth over his length. you spread it over the length of him, slow strokes with a heavy hand, seonghwa keeled. 

abdomen clenching already, his head dipped forward with a long groan, right from his chest. a smile spreads across your face at how sensitive he was– “you want me to take care of you, baby?” 

he looks up to you with wide eyes before his eyebrows furrow, your words sending him into a whole different headspace. “come on, don’t be shy, tell me what you want.” 

you didn’t know where your words were coming from, you weren’t usually the person doing the dirty talking. as his eyebrows knitted further together and his jaw went slack, you felt an edge, almost a high from how your words made him react– this was new, but you loved the power it gave you. it was too easy to switch roles with him.

you squeezed the base of him, “words, hwa. speak.” 

“fuck,” he moaned under his breath, “want your mouth on me, please, make me cum.”

“there you go baby,” you smiled, and your hand began stroking him again. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he only moans in response as your head dips down, licking his tip once, twice, three times before taking him into your mouth fully. 

his hand flies to your hair, gripping it right at the root, and you couldn’t stop the moan from leaving your lips. he kept you there, at the base of him, with your nose touching the patch of hair on his skin, his limbs locking up– you wondered if he was trying not to cum. 

he definitely needed this more than you did. 

when he let your hair go, you popped off of him with a quick intake of air, catching your breath for just a second before taking him in your mouth again. you kept your hand at the base of him while you worked his tip, tongue swirling along the underside, lips sucking harshly around the width of him. he was mewling, small tuts of air leaving his lips accompanied by other noises of pleasure, all which made you want to please him further. 

you finally worked into a rhythm, hands moving at the same pace as your mouth, twisting and sucking, the only noises audible were the wet squelches of your mouth and the moans he couldn’t stop feeding you. 

“fuck– ngh, gonna cum, wait,” but you didn’t listen, no, he needed this. if he was going to fuck you the way you wanted him to, he needed this first. your hand gripped him harder, mouth working him faster until he was spilling down your throat, releasing a long, languid groan that you were sure had you soaked through your pants.

his head fell back again as you popped off of his length, after swallowing every drop of him and licking him clean. he let out a long exhale, “that was borderline demonic.” 

you let a noise of amusement slip past your lips, “seemed like you needed it.” 

“more than you know,” he replied, then picked his head back up, looking you up and down. “you’re still wearing clothes?”

“someone forgot to take them off,” you tease, crawling onto his lap.

you attach your lips to his again and he takes them greedily, quick to slip his tongue between your lips, probably tasting himself on your own. he breaks the kiss, but your eyes stay shut, his voice is deep and husky again as he says, “i’m supposed to putting you in your place, ruin that pretty little display you put on for me.”

you remember what he said earlier– you look put together. you smirk, “we still have all night,” back arching into him, your arms going around his neck. he tucks his legs beneath him and flips you over, putting your heads at the foot of the bed, your legs hung over his thighs as he bends down to keep his lips attached to yours. 

his hands travel up your waist, slipping beneath your top, hands coming up to cup your chest over your bra. you release a sigh of contentment into his mouth as his lips move to your jaw again, breaking away as his fingers come down to the hem of your top to pull it over your head. your top meets the pink blanket on the floor somewhere as seonghwa’s eyes widen at the black lace adorning your chest, his hands coming up to grab, pinch, squeeze. 

you whimper, hips bucking up into his own, silently begging him for more. “i love this,” he comments, tugging on one of your straps, and you gasp as it snaps back against your shoulder. “almost wanna leave it on.” 

“get the full picture first,” you whisper, and he’s quick to understand– leaning back so he can tug your pants down your legs, groaning when he’s met with a matching thong. his jaw goes slack again as his hands run up your thighs and you push them apart, back arching up involuntarily. 

“please,” you beg, barely above a whisper, laid out almost completely bare for him. he looks up to you and his eyes look impossibly darker, onyx eyes reflecting nothing, you were both far past gone. 

he slips his middle finger beneath the lace and pulls the fabric to the side, then lets out a whistle when he sees just how wet you were for him. “you’re soaked, baby, want me that bad?” 

“you shouldn’t be talking, based on how fast you just came down my throat,” you bit back, hips twitching as you felt the cool air of his apartment breeze over your center. 

“watch it,” he warns, “don’t forget i choose whether or not you cum.” 

you smirk because the threat feels empty with the way his eyes haven’t left your core, how his face is growing closer, you were sure he didn’t even realize he was moving. enjoying the fight for power, you push him a little, “if you can make me cum.”

his eyes flash up to you, that darkness laid within them showed a whole different purpose. he raised his eyebrows, “if i can make you?” 

you nod, smirk still wide across your cheeks, and the smile that grew on his face was wicked. he laid flat on his stomach immediately, not bothering to take your panties off before his tongue was diving straight into your center. you choked out a moan, hips grinding into his mouth, grateful  yet still begging for more. 

“yes, yes,” the word was a chant on your tongue as he licked up and down your folds, lips sucking around your clit, tongue massaging circles into the nerves. his mouth followed your hips as your hands dug into his roots, hips twitching and bucking into his face, back arching off of the mattress. 

oh, there was no discussion about whether or not seonghwa could make you cum, it was about when. with how fast you made him cum, he wasn’t too far behind you in time, tongue making easy work of your core. you felt the heat build, the muscles in your abdomen tighten, clenching as you could feel your orgasm growing. 

seonghwa ate you as if he hadn’t tasted pussy in years. it was messy yet precise, his tongue made a rhythm that was perfect for you– your moans grew higher in pitch as you let the feeling in your core build, build, build– 

at the peak of your orgasm, when you just began to feel euphoria wash over you he pulls away, ripping the high away from you, leaving you empty, untouched. you shrieked, gasps leaving your lips as your hand flies to your center, “no! please, no, no no.” 

he caught your wrist, letting it ride through you, the utter incomplete feeling of your orgasm being ruined. he still wore that same wicked smile, “if i can make you cum, right?”

you stumbled over your words, stuttering as he smiled down at you, “that– i- why did you– no one’s ever–”

“pretty rich girl, always gets what she wants,” he teases in a sing-song tone, and the words begin to feel cold. it makes your head even fuzzier, the clarity and shift in power you felt when you made seonghwa cum in your mouth was gone. his index finger trails up and down your folds and you twitch, gasps leaving your lips as remnants of an orgasm you didn’t get to fully feel rack through your body. 

back into submission, where you were comfortable being, where you enjoyed being– that’s where seonghwa brought you to. you wondered if he liked you or hated you until his index finger slipped inside you, curling upward, sliding across that spot that had you keeling again. 

“fuck,” you cried as he began to pump his fingers, your hands coming up to squeeze your chest, pinching your nipples over your bra. you missed the way he took a quick intake of air at the sight, you were a vision to him, so beautiful and so eager for him, he could bring you to orgasm over and over all night. 

he added another finger, continuously curling them against that one spot, hooking them there and pumping them into you. your neck craned forward to look at him and he could see it all over your face, that you were close, that you were hiding it from him– or trying to, so he wouldn’t take this one away. 

as you were about to reach your peak, he slipped them out of you, and you let out a prolonged whine of frustration. seonghwa couldn’t help his smile, even after all this time he still had it. 

“seonghwa please let me cum,” you begged as he slipped your panties down your legs, but he ignored you. he reached behind you, unclasping your bra with one hand, throwing the matching set wherever the rest of your clothes were. you were incessant, your voice strained, weak as you begged further, “please, i need it, i’ll be good. please.”

“i told you i’d ruin you, baby,” he barely looked at you as he slipped off his sweatpants, grabbing the condom he stored in the pocket earlier. he ripped it open with his perfect teeth, slipping it over his hard length with ease, “you ready for the other thing i told you?” 

your face was red, splotchy, your eyes glassy and not all the way there, but your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. his heart warmed at the sight.

“park,” was all he said, and you swore you were trying to make sense of his words, too overstimulated without any stimulation. he slipped inside you, met with no resistance as you both moaned while he pushed himself all the way to the hilt, the stretch was tantalizing– the size of him was perfect. 

he stayed there for a moment, for you or for himself you didn’t know, but it took him a minute to look back at you again. when he did, he almost came from the sight of you, but he needed to find his resolve– he took your chin in his hand, “my last name. spell it.” 

“what?” you questioned, you were too cloudy for this– he was balls deep inside you, and he wanted you to spell? 

“my last name is park, spell it.” he used the same tone on you as you used when you told him to speak– it made you dizzy. he pulled out all the way, only the very tip of him poking at your entrance, and naturally you obeyed. 

“P.”

your voice was weak as he pushed all the way in, softly this time, his cock curving perfectly upward. 

“A.” 

you basically whined the letter as he thrusted into you a little harder, thank god it was only four letters. 

“R.” 

your head flew back into the mattress, eyes screwed tight as reality set in that his cock might be anatomically perfect. 

“K!” 

you screamed it, you couldn’t help it, the strength behind his thrust had you seeing stars. 

“goob job, smart girl,” he gushed as he worked himself into a rhythm, letting his hands come forward to cradle your cheeks, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over your skin. you released babbles of utter nonsense as he picked up his pace, pistoling his hips into you. 

“‘m not gonna last,” he huffed, eyes falling shut above you, and tears filled your waterline. you needed to cum. 

you reached a hand down to your center carefully, and to your surprise, he let you– you worked quick circles over your clit, your breath getting caught in your throat, his cock hitting that spot inside you over and over. 

“yes, gonna cum,” you moaned out, thighs spreading impossibly wider, fingers moving quicker on your clit. it didn’t take long before you felt on the brink of your orgasm, the tears at your waterline spilling over your cheeks. 

“cum with me,” he breathed, dipping down to attach your lips again, all teeth and spit. the reprieve you felt as your orgasm crash over you was blinding, and seonghwa wasn’t far behind, hips stilling inside you just as you started to ride it out. he pumped you both through it slowly, with nothing but heavy breaths in the air and your skin pressed against his. 

you laid in silence for a few minutes, breathing into each other’s skin, feeling the rise and fall of each other’s chests as seonghwa laid on top of you. you finally broke the silence, “do not ever do that to me again.” 

he let out a deep chuckle, exhaustion clear in his voice, “don’t taunt me and i won’t have to.” 

he finally rolled off of you, keeping you close to his side, you cuddled up against his hot skin as the cool air of his apartment danced over the both of you. “i haven’t had sex in a long time, i know i didn’t last long. i owe you.”

“you don’t owe me shit,” you said groggily, your eyes closed with your cheek pressed to his chest. “if you wanna fuck again i’m game, but never apologize for that. i enjoyed myself thoroughly.”

he got up much to your dismay, tying off the condom and throwing it in the trash in his kitchen, returning with a water bottle that he opened before handing it to you. “at least let me make you cum properly.”

“how can i say no to that?” you give him a toothy grin, then take a sip from the water bottle. “i know you’re tired, though, we can literally just go to sleep, hwa.” “we’ll go to sleep after,” he bends down on the mattress, planting a kiss on your knee, all exhaustion that was in his voice moments ago was gone. “i want to make the most out of tonight. don’t think we aren’t talking again before bed, either. ooh, maybe we can order takeout from that twenty four hour spot by the campus, too?”

8fd masterlist | main masterlist

tags :p @chimivx @emmxxsworld @alisonyus @livixcore @skzswife @dawn-iscozy @yusalterego @velvetring00 @minvxq @moonlightgrleric @unicornwhisperer666

[turbo-tsundere]

Content warning for gore, blood, burns & body horror.

A king with no crown and a holy fool.

(The element of venom/poison, stabbing/puncture wounds and destruction of a whole body is present in both of their deaths. Kokichi's pristine white clothes also end up being shoved down the toilet, and the poison made it difficult for him to breathe, so there's plausible callback to Miu also. Karma at its finest?)

If I could be the devil, you could be the sinner.

(Don't mind them, they're just spilling their guts)

(...)

(Concepts for scenes from a Gonta-centric survival horror game I'll never make. But it was fun to daydream about - maybe one day I'll finish other sketches and doodles relating to it into a more presentable state. The Cat Lady OST was playing on constant repeat while I drew this - Lily of the Valley, Don't Follow the Light, String, Plainwalker, Early Winter, Storytelling, Susan's Blue Sheep (alone again) - those in particular are now stuck in my brain when I look at those drawings, and what I imagine the "game's" mood to be like, at least the opening segment.)

(I felt both heartbroken and like a monster when drawing this one... But I wanted to draw something that doesn't conveniently erase nor tuck his mangled, swollen face away from view. Sure... in game it looks goofy. But I think mockingly disfiguring him was the point in all of this, too. And given the venom, the Schmidt pain index, how it rates some wasp species, the fact that those robot wasps could be packed with anything necessary really... it had to be awful. Really, every stage of Gonta's execution was excruciating and enough to kill a person on its own, but due to his strength he likely suffered through them all. I remember begging in my head he was at least spared the flame, that he was already gone by this point... But it's foolish to pretend it definitely was the case.)

I wanted to post something new, but I was either busy, ill, or focused on something else, so another sketchdump with oldies and wips it is. This time strictly 2020-21 stuff, drawn during the first few months after finishing the game; mostly to process the post-game/Ch4 sorrows. All very emotionally raw, very edgy stuff that I felt, to be honest, too shy to show before.

Like with any wip I posted before, I do hope to finish some of them properly one day, even though I don't know when. But that's fine, I've signed up for a very long ride with the bug man. Taking it easy is the priority.

Speaking of long-term projects, maybe there's no need to, but I do want to talk about my Gonta fancomic, so here goes.

It's a bit long, so I will continue under the cut.

(Some panel teasers first! ...Gonta sanity fine.)

I took a few months long break from personal drawings - an *actual* break, not just sitting in front of a screen, tired, stewing in guilt that I'm tired, and that I can't magically muscle through burnout, or headache, or exhaustion.

My brain was stuck in a loop of berating myself for underperforming, not doing well enough, for taking so long on "mere" 27 pages, when in the past I could finish a 90-page webcomic chapter much faster. I wouldn't let myself rest, because I didn't do enough; but I couldn't do enough, because I didn't allow myself to rest. And it's been going on for months and months.

What a stupid, unconstructive thing to do to myself. I was only spiralling down, intimidating and overwhelming myself with work on the one thing I specifically wanted to keep doing out of joy, not ambition and pedantism. So I decided to just say "fuck it" and stop for a while. Like, actually stop, do something else and try to feel unapologetic about it.

So I briefly took up sewing, a creative activity I had no personal stake in, and then I started PVP-ing in DS3 (sorry if I happened to kick your butt in there. Rest assured my butt gets kicked just as much), which did wonders, too, as non-artistic pastime.

And, in the end, it seems it worked.

I finally feel this internal drive to draw again. Sadly, I can't spend all of my free time on the doujin (I might need to open commissions soon), so my pacing will still be glacial... But there was an internal change from "I have to, I have to, I must..." back to "I want to". And this is all that matters.

Still, that makes me think... while technically I don't have deadlines, the comic has taken so much longer than I thought it would - and it will take a while still. Thus, I wonder if I shouldn't change my approach re publishing it.

The initial idea was to post it all at once when it's fully finished, but I debate releasing it one page at a time instead, while it's still work in progress.

Thing is, I don't think it would be good for overall pacing. I don't want to sacrifice it, plus I can't guarantee regular uploads, esp since I don't exactly work on the pages in chronological order (While the first page is done, it was drawn after I finished a few in the middle & at the end; and there are still a few important pages/panels in first half I'm a bit too afraid of touching just yet, wanting to do them justice. This is how I work in general, jumping around rather than sticking to overly strict linear order.)

The compromise would be to post like 3-5 pages per post, making it so each upload covers a specific scene, however, same issue arises - I can't promise regular uploads. In the end it feels like a half-measure. But maybe it's a good idea, despite that impression?

There's a secret option, too - if this takes absurdly long, my plan was to just post the storyboard, after replacing some panels/pages with already finished drawings. The thing is readable as is, and long finished on that front anyway. My personal deadline for that was "right before my current lease ends", but, well… I plan on extending it anyway, and again... it's just a back-up option for when everything else fails. In the end, I just want to finish the comic, and present it how it's meant to be presented, however long it will take.

All those things considered, I'll stick to the original plan for now... and then we shall see. I simply wanted to share where things stand currently, and where they might go.

And that's it! If you've read this far, thank you. See you in the undetermined future.

[rallamajoop]

That time Heisenberg stabbed Ethan with a rusty fencepost

Thanks to this one fic project that needed a pornographically detailed list of Ethan’s most memorable injuries, I've spent some time trying to figure out exactly what Heisenberg stabs him with when they first met. Working mostly from a free-camera version from youtube, I settled on calling a metal pipe with a square profile.

Tumblr: I was wrong. The reality is so much worse.

Having cracked the game files and installed my own free-camera mod, I tracked down the original asset for this thing, and, well...

No, really, this is it! Check out those matching cross-bars if you doubt me.

FWIW, it isn’t actually a spear. Those semi-mangled crossbars flag it instead as a spear-headed fence-post. (This may not be a distinction that Ethan would find very comforting after being stabbed with the thing, but there it is, regardless.)

In fact, if you poke around the cemetery area just outside the castle gate, you can even find the fence it presumably came from.

Look in on the cemetery near the church from the lane leading up to the Duke's shop beside it, and this is what you'll see.

It's not a perfect match (in fact, it's even worse viewed from the opposite side, because someone has clearly stuffed up the textures on different sides of the same asset). I'll also note that if you go back to this fence again after meeting Heisenberg, you won’t find any suspicious gaps in it where a post was recently ripped out. So I’m going to just go ahead and assume this particular piece was lying in a pile of surplus scrap in the cellar somewhere, and Heisenberg did not, in fact, drag the thing all the way there from well outside the whole damn building. I mean, at that point, you’re just showing off.

The fence post is, admittedly, pretty hard to get a good look at in the actual game. Unlike all the other crap Heisenberg already has levitating around him in this scene, the fencepost doesn’t appear at all until Heisenberg stabs Ethan with it. It actually seems to emerge at speed from between a couple of barrels at the back. But if you’re enough of a lunatic to play around with the various slow motion/rewind settings that came with the free camera mod, you can get a decent shot of it in flight, cleaning up any remaining doubt that this is the same asset that was used in game.

It even freaking spins in the air as it moves. FTR, yes, it does go in pointy-end first. And the whole fucking spearhead ends up buried in poor Ethan. (Please feel free to insert your own dick-joke here.) Those paying really close attention might even note that the blood on Ethan's shirt is present even before the spear hits him, but that's just going to be virtual-stunt-coordination having a normal one.

I can offer you no similarly definitive insight into why Heisenberg would think stabbing Ethan with this thing was a good idea. I can’t even tell you if he knew for sure that it was Ethan Winters he was talking to at this point (maybe he's just playing dumb, pretending not to recognise him. Or maybe he legit didn't know that Ethan himself had made an appearance until Miranda told him. Sure, he's already got that whole conspiracy board, but finding real pictures of this Ethan-guy is surprisingly hard.) But whether Heis was already testing out Ethan’s ‘interesting body’, or whether he’d just generally assumed that anyone who could survive a full lycan assault on the village wouldn’t be too seriously inconvenienced by a little stabbing, hoo boy was this one way to make a first impression.

I’m not even sure which of these losers is the bigger idiot here: the one who imagined Ethan might still agree to work with him even after inserting a very convincing imitation-spearhead into his intestines, or the one who never thought to seriously question how he keeps shrugging off injuries just as exciting as this one.

They probably deserve each other.

[wombywoo]

Hello!!

I wanted to ask if you would be willing to share how you go about finding the references for the injuries you depict in your work? Your pieces where the CoD boys are sporting injuries, fresh and old, are always so lifelike and to my untrained eye seem entirely medically correct.

I have been trying my hand at drawing the boys retired and resting as well, but I’m finding it difficult to decide what work injuries to add and how to find the respective references.

How do you decide what injuries to portray? And how do you go about finding the reference material?

Your huge fan, amustikas

Oooh ok ok! I'm gonna post my answer publically because I think others would find this interesting too!

To preface, I am definitely NOT a medical professional, and as such, a lot of the stuff I choose to depict in my art is not so much..ah, medically accurate as it is....aesthetically pleasing 🤭

I'll start with scars, as a lot of us enjoy slashing up Simon's face with them, lol. Generally, I'll do a cursory google image search for the type of scar I'm looking for (be warned, these can be graphic) with searches like 'burn scar' 'surgery scar' etc. But I find that for things like cuts and lacerations, real-life scars are a bit innocuous and lame 🤷‍♀️ Unfortunately not everyone's skin wants to retain that perfect slash look™️😔

So what I usually end up referencing are costume prosthetic scars ✨

As you can see, they're pretty gnarly:

And you definitely don't have to go this intense, but I find that the dramatic, carved-like appearance of these translate better to art than a realistically healed wound 🤙

The other thing to consider is the prevalence of injuries in the military. From what I've gathered, the most common will be back/shoulder/limb injuries, just a general fucking up of the whole musculoskeletal system in general due to constant overuse 🤕 Hearing loss, shrapnel/blast/burn injuries are also common, as well as all the negative psychological effects :') goooood times (not)

I think it's neat to look up real-life examples of these things, but it can get a bit intense if you're squeamish...

SafeSearch is OFF, the horrors are REal 😳

So yeah...I tend to tone things down, all things considered...😅

For this particular piece:

I researched broken humerus injuries and treatment 👍 Poor boy 🥺(Yes, I am aware that I consumed entire articles and did a shit ton of research about this just to go ahead and put a female's x-ray in this fucking picture sdfghjkl rip💀😭)

But here you can see the actual process for applying the brace for this particular injury:

Neat, eh?

When I draw Johnny with a knee brace, it's usually a real authentic one you can buy on amazon:

Product placement blast!!!💥✨ Bezos, where is my cut?? 🫰

As for ones like this:

I tend to just...scatter some wounds around and patch them up accordingly, lol. Bruising around the eyes is common with any head injury, and surgical stitching will offer a nice puckered skin effect mmm 👌 (I swear I'm normal abt this)

I'm sure the medical malpractice lawsuits are stacking up for me now, but again--it's usually more about the ✨visuals✨

My parting advice would be--go nuts! Feel free to maim and mutilate and mangle to your heart's content 🥰

Thank you for the question, Amustikas! I love your art as well 💗🫶

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crash and Burn 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamics, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Tony Stark

Summary: a powerful man comes crashing into your life. Literally.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Bang! The impact shakes you so hard you nearly drop your book. You sit up, wide-eyed, and look around. What the heck was that?

You stand and leave the book on the short bench squeezed in along the table. You go to the door and twist the latch. As you open it, dust mists in the air and the scent of smoke singes your nose. You step onto even ground and search for the disturbance.

You turn to face the trailer and the black cloud pluming up from behind it. The entire thing lurches as an electronic whir and zap cuts through the air. You dodge put of the way as the window bursts and shatters over you.

You scramble back on your heels, shielding yourself behind an arm, and cry out. Your neighbours cluster before their own homes and watch, caught in awe as the trailer shakes on its foundation. The wall burst open as a dark shape crashes through and lands in the patchy grass behind you.

You turn to stare down at the mangled metal. Broken tubes drip neon blue fluid and the lights flicker and die. Whatever it is, it's useless now. Just like the wall.

Another crash before you can investigate. Another window rains shards into the dirt and you slap your hands to your head. At least you have witnesses, though you don't know that they have any idea what's going on.

Another tremble before the door swings open. What looks to be a cyborg tramps down the stairs and dusts itself off. You grimace helplessly at the red and gold armour.

"Iron man?" A chirpy childish voice quavers from behind you.

No way? As if to bask in the recognition, the mask retracts and reveals a man's face. It is in fact the Tony Stark. He smirks beneath his goatee and winks at the kid.

"Hey, little guy." He shoots a finger gun as he struts over to the kid.

A long, loud groan comes from behind him. You turn back to the trailer as it starts to lean. Oh no!

Time slows as you watch the whole thing fold in on itself. You stumble further back as it sends up another plume of dirt and dusty. In a moment, you're swept away from the wreckage out of the way of a broken board flying in your direction.

Tony Stark, Iron Man, playboy, billionaire, and wrecking ball has his arm around you as he puts you back in your feet. You stare at the ruin of your home

Your entire life.

"Damn, good thing you got out of there," he snickers.

You shrug him off and step forward. "Hey, sweetheart, you're not gonna wanna do that. There's smoke and that means--" As he grabs you again, a crackle sounds and orange flames lick out from beneath the splinters and drywall.

"No!" You cry out. "What the-- the trailer-- you--"

"Relax, sweetheart, you should be thankful you didn't get trapped in all that. Could be a hell of a lot worse."

You wriggle in his grasp, "that's my home! What am I gonna tell me mom?"

"I'll buy you a new one," he rolls his eyes.

"A new one? That's not the point--" you scoff and stomp your foot. You face the heap again. There are things you can't replace and your mom will make sure to mention as much.

“I'll have my people get in touch.” He struts away and toes the mass of metal on the ground. “Gotta call in the big boys.”

He puts his hand to his ear and talks to no one in particular. You can't look away. The flames build and build as you watch it all go up in flame.

You peek over at the man in his red and gold armour. He grins as children crowd around and he signs their comic books and frisbees and action figures. He's all charm and cheer.

He has no worry about the mess he's made. He'll go home to his penthouse and his bank account. He says he'll buy you a new trailer but that's not going to happen overnight.

The police show up, and the fire trucks, then men in black suits. The lot is corded off with yellow tape as you stand listless on the sidelines. You don't know what else to do.

“Oh god! Oh god! What happened?” Your mom blusters up beside you. She's still in her work uniform. You look at her and shrug. You can't even put into words the chaos of the last few hours.

You look around and point just as Iron Man's helmet flips up and he flies off in a flash. You stare after him and drop your arm. You huff.

“I have no idea, mum,” you utter. “No idea.”

She shrieks and flags down an officer, “sir, I want to know what the hell happened to my home! Right now!”

“Ma'am. This is a matter for law enforcement. We're investigating–”

“Investigating!? My trailer is a pile of rubble!” She cries out.

Her shrill hollers fade into a murmur as your gaze zeros in on the ash. This isn't fair. He gets to walk away, well, fly away, and you have to figure all this out.

[opal-owl-flight]

can I ask about the poster "agent 3" kids story?

Yes you can and here it all is!! Presenting…

tldr: She comes from a family of big name actors in the industry, and shes been raised from hatching to continue their legacy. Its…a lot of pressure to put on a kid, especially one who just wants to make her (impossible to satisfy) family proud. Despite being surrounded by impossible standards, the fakest friends chosen for her, being given everything she can ever want (except what she really needs), and putting on a hundred masks for everyone in her life for survival’s sake in a cutthroat industry, she chooses to be kind.

more details under the cut!!

Her name is Sariwa, which means “fresh” . Named for her spring green tentacles and as a blessing from her parents that shed stay youthful, beautiful. a hope that she would be seen and be adored (as freshness implies coolness/popularity in sploonworld).

Shes hatched into the acting industry, with both parents being big in the industry. From hatching she was expected, trained to be an actor like her mother is. The media adores them, this “sweet little family”, but no one knows how nefarious everything is when the cameras are off.

The dad is neglectful, disappearing into meetings most of the time. The mom is a helicopter parent to make up for it. Pointing out every flaw that Sariwa apparently has in either performance or appearance. Never giving praise. Except when she performs “well enough” on stage. This instills in the child this need to make them proud. to…to make everyone happy. She becomes someone whose dependent on other peoples’ praise to function.

Shes given everything else, dont get me wrong. Every material thing she’ll ever need. all the big popular “friends” chosen for her. But…shes not allowed to turf. yknow. biggest event in an inkling’s life here in Inkopolis. and shes not allowed to go to school either. shes too busy memorizing lines for adverts or-

The second she turned 14, she was chosen as the lead role for Cuttlegear’s brand new show abt Agent 3. She looked exactly like the legendary hero, according to the sources. All her time went into this project. Thankfully, unlike at home…her co-actors were very kind. Her parents didnt choose for her this time. She was meeting actual people who dont put on masks beyond their job. the actor they got for Cuttlefish, in particular, is a very kind soul, defending her when the directors get too pissy with her performance. (Those are the only people she fears, tbh shes fearful of most authority figures.)

*Cuttlefish is also depicted as kind and supportive in the show. and in most games. Unlike the real Cuttlefish, which is kind of a loony old man who pushes ideas on young inklings. He still gives more support and kindness that 3s dad ever gave, but thats only RELATIVE to how little he gave in the first place. One can only imagine the longing this inspires in the real 3.

Sariwa…since shes hatched shes had to put on an act. Be the perfect little doll for her parents. For the world. But her friends here, they inspired her to…have fun with what shes doing again. To take off the mask (mostly beyond the clock). Breathe life in the character when she can. (But lets be real…shes getting 3 spot on with how many parallels they have with each others lives.)

But what is she beyond the mask, her role? She wasnt allowed to do anything beyond this. She was forced to depend on her abusive parents and their associates. She cant live alone beyond them. Not allowed to turf bc shes “a prim and proper young lady; above such violent drivel that only delinquents participate in”. They gesture to 3, whos one of the faces Squidforce uses in their promotions, and say (ironically.) that she must not become that. Face ripped to shreds and eye mangled.

No one knows they got that from the real war that Sariwa is pretending to show.

The show does its best to be an accurate telling. Child friendly, to a point. Horrifying things still get kept in somewhat. Things that will horrify a child on stage.

If Sariwa is terrified of the props, can you imagine how it was for 3?

————————

And once she realizes all of this. Once she gets out of this situation thanks to Callie, Marie, and 3 themself. Does she feel guilt? Guilt for depicting the horrors in a way that glorifies it instead? A part of a project that aims to make people complacent to the real horrors that churned below?

There is one thing Sariwa feels about 3, that I am aware of rn.

“Im glad, that out of every story I couldve told, Im glad it was yours.”

Just like 8, she sung this tale in her hearts. Just like 8, she used this to break out of this terrible situation, answering the call of the ones who promised her safety. A better life. Like the way she stage broke through that prop in the choreographed Octavio fight, she broke through the influence of those around her.

*She actually went off-script a bit in that scene. After she beat down Octavio, she held out her hand. Mostly to help the actor up. But then, without realizing, she spoke, she spoke of making things better between the nations. That maybe he doesnt have to steal the zapfish anymore.

Her time with the octoling actors, and hearing the stories from the ex-octarians, made her aware and know the fact that theyre people too. The directors kept it in. They knew that if they released this as they have planned it, there will be fuckign riots from the ex-octarians or the Inkling “sympathizers”.

She saw the value this story held, despite the subliminal messaging that she wished wasnt implemented. That she wished she wasnt a part of. She saw that its a tale of hope. A tale that inspires one to become the hero of their own life. A tale that inspires one to make the world a better place.

————————

So she was hatched and raised to make people smile, singing her songs and dancing their dances. Much like the clan singer that was 4, except the tradition is much more healthy compared to industry standard. And she didnt become as mean as the people around her, at least not internally. She put on a mean mask but she felt the void within. When she was given kindness for a long enough time, she put her walls down.

And just like the real 3, she underwent through the horrors of expectations she had to hold up, and trying to make uninterested parents proud. They dont see her as their daughter, shes just a means to an end. She had to wear a hundred masks to survive and it made her lose her sense of identity. She had to be mature, she had to take the shitty behavior of adults who expect her to be like one too. It made her lose grip of who she is beyond this role. Hell, they made her so dependent on their handouts that shes not sure she can exist beyond this hell. Much like how 3 struggles to know a life beyond their duty.

And much like 8, she used the story she was telling to break out and get herself in a better situation. She met with the real Agents 1 and 2 (without her knowledge) and asked. Begged. for help, after her show ended. (3 also kind of pointed the two in her direction. Bc cod knows how horrifying this industry is. Shes lucky she didnt get any of the grosser horrors ~~its bc I didnt feel comfortable writing such topics~~)

And then shes faced with the same problem all the real legends faced. What comes after the end? When the dust clears, what happens next? She wasnt given a damn choice, she wasnt allowed to try to learn things beyond this role. to be beyond an imagined agent 3. a soldier for the screen. who is she now, that shes out of that battlefield?

little does she realize that the real 3s asking the same question for themself.

[gooseworx]

Hi! Not actually a question, just wanted to say I really like Kinger. You and the team did a great job designing him. I hope that he's a broken man, just an absolutely shattered individual, a real shell of a person, a psychologically mangled guy, a mentally ruined dude, a positively jacked-up character, a

There's one particular episode I'm sure you'll love.

[stxrrwritess]

who you belong to.

( art not mine )

monty gator x reader smut

MINORS DNI !!

warnings : afab!reader, jealous sex, rough sex, slight degradation ( use of whore, slut ), size difference (?), oral ( fem receiving ), poorly written smut LOL

word count : 807

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

As the mechanic, your job basically consisted of being friendly with all of the glamrocks. You’d figured it was easier to get to know them rather than just barge in and start working on their wires. Over time, you’d developed an .. interesting relationship with none other than Montgomery Gator, the most aggressive of the four animatronics. On this particular day, you had to tend to Freddy a little more than the others, mainly because of a glitch he had during a performance which resulted in a freak out of the children and quite a few adults.

After you had finished up in Freddy’s green room, you said goodbye and left, only to find Monty leaning on the wall, arms crossed and a not-so pleasant expression on his face. “Oh, hey Monty. You okay? Vanessa told me you didn’t need a check up today so I-,” before you could finish, you were yanked rather harshly by the forearm towards the Gator’s green room. “H-Hey! Monty, what’s going on?” You asked, skeptical on why he was acting so strange. You two had been fucking, sure. But you’d never have thought he’d be so annoyed that you were just doing your job. “Shut it, whore.” He grumbled under his breath, opening the door to his room and throwing you onto his mangled up couch. “Too fuckin’ busy to come in an’ even say ‘hello’? Too caught up with Fazbear?” He asked, as he moved to rip your work shirt off, causing your tits to pop out. “No, Monty, He had a glitch today. You saw it.” You protested, but you couldn’t deny that seeing this jealous side of him was.. oddly hot.

“I’m gonna remind ya who ya belong to.” He spoke, discarding of your pants and your panties, revealing your wet snatch to him. His large hands traveled over your body, stopping to grope your boobs and a small whine escaped your lips. After a few moments, he stopped and pried your legs open. Leaning down, he ran a wet stripe up your heat, eliciting a low moan from you. He teased your clit, before you hit his forearm that was holding your thigh gently. “Stop teasing, Montgomery!” You complained, before he finally stuck his strangely long tongue into you, eating you out like he hadn’t eaten in days. You threw your head back in ecstasy, your hand gripping his red mohawk. “M-Monty, Fuck-“ You gasped as soft moans and whines emitted from you. When he sensed you were getting close to the edge, he pulled away. You opened your mouth to give out to him, but he interrupted you. “You ain’t cummin’ unless it’s on my fuckin’ cock.” He growled, picking you up harshly and moving to his vanity, bending you over, your tits flush against the table. You glanced up at yourself, your forehead was glistened with sweat and your cheeks flushed.

Monty wasted no time in discarding his pants, as he pushed the tip of his dick past your gummy walls. No matter how many times you two fucked, his size always surprised you. “T-Too big..” You murmured under your breath, looking up at him in the mirror with pleading eyes. “Take it, slut.” He grunted and with one sharp thrust, he bottomed out in you. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you inhaled sharply, feeling his dick fill you up so nicely. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, as he started thrusting into you at an inhuman pace, yanking your hair back to make you look at yourself in the mirror. “Tell me, who’s fuckin’ ya? Who’s makin’ ya feel this good, huh?” He gave a rougher thrust at the end of his sentence to emphasize his point. “Y-You, you are, fuck!” You rasped, “I got a name, use it. Tell me who ya belong to.” He groaned, feeling you clench around him like a vice. “Monty, you, please just - don’t fucking stop!” You begged, your hands gripping onto his vanity as you felt your knees begin to buckle. “Hnngh- I’m, fuck, Y/N. I’m gettin’ close..” He removed his hand from your hair and placed both of his hands on your hips, holding onto them with bruising force. It didn’t take long for you to cum around him, considering he had edged you before this. Your orgasm hit you like a wave, your vision going blurry for a few seconds. Monty followed a few moments later, painting your insides white with a grunt. He pulled out, and moved to scoop you up into his arms as he sat on the couch. “Uh.. Shit. Sorry if I went too hard on ya.. It’s jus’, ya know how I get ‘bout Fazbear.” He chuckled sheepishly, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

You should get him jealous more often, if this is the outcome.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

a/n

hope you enjoyed x3 honestly idk how to write smut that well, i just let my hands do the typing while i zone out for a solid 20 minutes. if there’s anything i can improve on do let me know ! ( i’m def super repetitive in the way that i write but oh well )

[b1xi]

𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙩, 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧

Glenn rhee x reader

Word count:3752

Warninig: fluff, dead, blood

Pt2 , Pt3

You ran as fast as your legs would allow, stumbling up the stairs while trying not to fall. Behind you, the growls and gasps of the creatures—those who were once your neighbors—roared loudly, almost deafeningly. The upper floors offered no solace; the walls were splattered with blood, silent witnesses to a recent massacre. The air was thick, heavy with death and despair, and each step brought you closer to the unknown, to a possible trap or, perhaps, an unlikely salvation.

By the time you reached the fifth floor, the situation had become even more macabre. Two of those monsters, turned into insatiable predators, were devouring the mangled body of someone you had likely known in life. Horror gripped you; a scream formed in your throat, but you stifled it by covering your mouth with a trembling hand. You knew that the slightest noise could condemn you. There was no time for mourning or compassion. There was only one mission: survival.

Desperately, you looked around for an escape. The growls were getting closer. With no other options, you slipped into an apartment with an ajar door. Once inside, you moved cautiously, your hands gripping the small knife you carried, a pitiful defense but at least something to make you feel somewhat protected.

The living room showed no obvious signs of violence, except for some bloodstains that extended into the bathroom. You took a deep breath and headed for the kitchen, your heart pounding in your chest, searching for anything that might be useful. After a few minutes, you had gathered a small stash: cans of food, soda crackers, snacks, and water. It wasn't much, but it could make the difference between life and death. As you rummaged through the drawers for something more useful, a particular sound startled you.

The sharp cry of a baby broke the silence, coming from one of the rooms at the back. You stood still for a moment, trying to convince yourself that you had imagined it, but the crying persisted. You knew ignoring it wasn't an option. With hesitant steps, you moved towards the source of the sound, stopping in front of a door decorated with a small heart-shaped sign bearing the name "Alice." You pushed the door gently, revealing a pink-painted nursery, filled with drawings and toys scattered on the floor.

In the center of the room stood a white crib, and there, wrapped in blankets, a baby cried inconsolably. Her little face was reddened from the effort of crying, seeking attention, company... protection.

"Damn it," you whispered, this time with more resignation than fear. You looked around, hoping that at any moment someone—perhaps the baby's mother—would come running through the door. But no one came. Anxiety gripped your chest. You knew leaving little Alice there was a certain death sentence. The baby's cries already resonated as an open call to the monsters prowling the building.

With no other options, you took the baby in your arms. Her crying was desperate and incessant, and each passing second made you imagine that the things outside were drawing closer, attracted by the noise. As you rocked her gently back and forth, her sobs began to calm. Her tiny hands clung tightly to your shirt, and gradually, the crying turned into soft whimpers until, finally, it ceased. You sighed with relief, but the tension didn't fully dissipate. Every second was crucial.

You left the room with stealthy steps, Alice wrapped in your arms. The silence of the apartment was oppressive, and the feeling of being watched never left you. Keeping your gaze upwards, you walked down the hallway, vainly searching for any sign of life in the other rooms. But there was nothing. The place seemed deserted.

The bathroom, however, caught your attention. The door was locked, but through the gap beneath it, a faint beam of light filtered in. Something or someone was on the other side. You approached cautiously and pressed your ear against the wood, and horror overwhelmed you. A low, menacing growl resonated from inside, followed by a rasping sound: claws scratching the door.

You instinctively recoiled, fear freezing your blood. Whatever was trapped inside was not human. There was no doubt. Those creatures had reached this place, and surely whoever was locked in there would find a way out soon.

You quickly considered your options, aware that you couldn’t stay. The building was no longer safe, and probably neither was the city. Chaos was spreading like an uncontrollable fire. There was no alternative but to flee before nightfall made the streets even more dangerous. The creatures became more active at dusk, and the cover of darkness would only increase their numbers.

With trembling hands, you found a larger bag and filled it with essentials: supplies, some clean clothes, and everything you might need to care for your new companion, Alice. You fashioned an improvised sling and secured her gently against your chest. Her calm breathing contrasted with your own racing heart.

Leaving the building was easier than you had imagined. The creatures were scattered, hunting on other floors or in the streets. Moving with stealth and determination, you made your way to your car, parked not far from the main entrance. With Alice secured to your chest, you quickly got in and started the engine.

Three weeks had passed since you left the city. Those days felt like an endless nightmare. The first two weeks had been particularly exhausting: the roads were blocked with abandoned cars and wandering corpses, and you had no choice but to continue on foot. You walked through forests, taking shortcuts when you could, though it only heightened your paranoia. The constant crunching of leaves under your feet, the distant sounds of the infected, and the ever-present danger of being surprised kept you on high alert.

Dealing with Alice was another challenge. The baby cried incessantly, her relentless hunger forcing you to stop more often than you would have liked. Sometimes, you could only pray to find a safe place to rest. Sleeping was not an easy option; every nighttime noise, every shadow moving in the dark, was a potential threat.

As you pressed on, the physical and mental exhaustion began to take its toll. You wondered how much longer you could keep going. Alice needed more than you could offer alone. However, as if some higher power had heard your silent pleas, things changed the day you encountered the group.

It happened while you were exploring an abandoned house, desperate for food or diapers for Alice. Hunger and exhaustion were becoming unbearable, and each step felt like a burden. Entering a dusty room, the air thick with humidity and mildew, you were struck by the emptiness. The weight of reality hit you hard: there was nothing. You leaned against the wall for a moment, struggling against despair.

That’s when you saw him: a rugged man with a face hardened by life, holding a crossbow with an unsettling firmness. You had no idea how long he had been there, watching you. Instinctively, you stepped back, raising your hands in a gesture of surrender. The cold steel of his gaze pierced through you, and fear took hold. You were cornered, unsure if this encounter would mean the end.

The man did not lower his weapon but took a step closer, studying your every move. “Are you from the city?” he asked in a deep, authoritative voice. His tone made it clear that he was used to taking control of situations. His eyes quickly scanned the space behind you, as if expecting someone else to emerge from behind you. But he saw nothing.

The lump in your throat made it hard to speak, and for a moment, you thought your legs might give way. You could only nod, hoping it would be enough to placate him. The man kept his gaze fixed on you, evaluating, measuring every detail.

“Are you alone, or is there someone else with you?” he asked again, not softening his tone. Before you could answer, a second man appeared in the room. He was younger, with Asian features, and seemed to be with the first, as the latter showed no surprise upon seeing him. The younger man carried another weapon, though his posture

“There’s no one with me,” you managed to say, your voice trembling as you tried to stay calm. But at that moment, you felt Alice shift in the carrier, as if she was about to wake up. The faint movement of the baby immediately caught both men’s attention.

The younger Asian man slowly lowered his weapon, his expression softening as he assessed the situation. There was something in his gaze, perhaps empathy, or maybe just exhaustion. The crossbow man, however, did not immediately change his expression. His eyes dropped to the small bundle against your chest, and for a moment, the tension in the room became unbearable.

“Is that… a baby?” the young man murmured, incredulous. It seemed he hadn’t seen something so small and delicate in a long time.

You nodded once more, unconsciously tightening your hold on Alice, trying to protect her as best as you could. “Yes… it’s just her and me,” you replied with more confidence than you actually felt.

“What’s your name?” asked the young Asian man, his voice softer than the armed man’s.

“My name is Y/N, and she is Alice,” you answered, feeling a slight calm beginning to settle inside you. You gently stroked Alice’s back, trying to keep her calm. Still, you couldn’t ignore the discomfort caused by the young man’s continuous gaze.

“I’m Glenn, and this is Daryl,” Glenn introduced himself, taking a step toward you and extending a friendly hand. Although you appreciated the gesture, you opted to keep your distance, your survival instinct still on high alert. Glenn noticed your hesitation and lowered his hand, not offended but maintaining his friendly tone.

Daryl, however, had not entirely lowered his guard. His crossbow was still ready, though now aimed at the ground. The tension in his jaw and the coldness in his eyes kept you on edge. The air felt dense, heavy, as if something could go wrong at any moment.

Glenn placed a firm but calm hand on Daryl’s shoulder, trying to ease the situation. “Calm down, she’s not a threat. Look at her, she’s alone with a baby. Let her breathe.” His conciliatory tone managed to soften Daryl’s stance a bit.

Daryl exhaled slowly and finally lowered the crossbow completely, though not without issuing one last warning. “Alright. But I recommend you get out of here before nightfall. It’s not safe to be out in the woods at this hour, especially with a child.” His tone made it clear that he was giving advice rather than making a threat.

You nodded quickly, aware that you didn’t have many options left. The sun was beginning to set, and although you had survived until now, you knew you couldn’t keep going alone for much longer. The city had been hell, and now the forest was proving to be just as dangerous.

“Listen, Y/N,” Glenn interrupted, his voice much softer, almost a whisper. “We have a camp not too far from here. It’s not much, but it’s well-protected, and we have supplies.” His eyes, which had been cautious before, now reflected something more. Empathy, perhaps. “You don’t have to keep wandering alone. You could stay with us. Alice would be safer there.”

His words resonated in your mind. The offer seemed too good to be true, but desperation was beginning to take over. You glanced at Alice, feeling her small, warm, and vulnerable body against yours, and realized you could no longer afford to keep testing your luck. The walkers outside would show no mercy, and you knew you’d soon run out of strength.

“I don’t want to cause any trouble,” you said, unsure. Although Glenn’s offer seemed sincere, something inside you still doubted. You had seen the worst of people in recent days, and distrust had become second nature.

“You won’t be a problem,” Glenn replied with a kind smile. “There are more people at the camp, and we’re all in this together. We can’t promise you an easy life, but we can offer you safety and some peace. At least, for a while.”

You looked at Daryl, searching for any sign that the proposal was genuine, but his expression remained impassive, as hard as a rock. However, by not objecting to Glenn’s offer, he seemed to be giving his tacit consent.

Finally, you nodded, letting a little relief seep into your thoughts. “Alright. I’ll go with you.”

After what felt like hours of walking, you finally descended a hill and before you was a scene that, in another time, would have been a mundane sight: an improvised camp with cars and a trailer. However, now, amidst the chaos, it represented a refuge, a possibility of rest, and perhaps, safety.

Glenn turned to you, noticing your exhaustion. “We’re almost there. It’s better than being out there, believe me.” He smiled, a mix of relief and concern in his gaze. Daryl, for his part, kept his distance, still vigilant with his crossbow ready, though he had stopped aiming it directly at you. He seemed to trust Glenn more than the situation.

As you emerged from the dense forest, the camp Glenn had mentioned became visible through the trees. With each step, your legs felt heavier, and the sweltering heat made sweat trickle down your forehead and body. Glenn briefly stopped to check that you were still following, offering a supportive smile, while Daryl, in his own way, stayed alert, his crossbow always at the ready.

Finally, you reached a small clearing in the forest and turned left. That’s when you saw it: the camp. Just as Glenn had said, there was a trailer blocking a slope, and next to it, a smoldering campfire. Near the campfire, a picnic table and several chairs formed an improvised circle. A bit farther away, several tents were grouped around a small path cutting through the vegetation. The place looked humble but safe.

You had taken only a few steps when a burly man with an expression of both alertness and distrust approached quickly. “What’s going on, Glenn?” he asked in a deep, firm voice. He was Shane, who seemed to be leading the group at that moment.

Glenn raised a hand to calm him. “Everything’s fine, Shane. She’s from the city. She’s alone… and has a baby.”

Shane cast a quick glance at Alice, his expression softening slightly before turning back to you. “Alone, you say?”

“Yes, we checked,” Daryl interjected, finally lowering the crossbow but not taking his analytical gaze off you.

“Well, it’s better to talk to the rest,” Shane said in a less aggressive but still firm tone. “Lori and Carol are with the kids; maybe they can help with the baby.”

You observed several people engaged in various activities. Two blonde women, one clearly older than the other, were sitting and cleaning what you assumed were freshly caught fish. Further along, a dark-skinned woman was resting next to a burly man with a serious expression, who was relaxing in one of the chairs near the campfire. On top of the trailer, an older man with a fishing hat kept a calm watch from his position, holding a rifle firmly, as if he might need it at any moment. To your right, you noticed a Latino man and another taller man wearing a cap, checking a couple of cars.

Glenn, who stayed by your side, gave you a reassuring glance before speaking. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the group.” He took a few steps forward, guiding you toward a pair of women sitting at an old picnic table.

“Hi, girls,” Glenn greeted with his usual friendly tone. “I want to introduce you to Y/N.” He made a hand gesture indicating for you to come closer.

The tall woman with brown hair, holding her son on her lap, looked up with a warm smile. “Hello,” she said as she stood up kindly. “I’m Lori, and this is my son, Carl.” She extended a friendly hand towards you, her smile genuine, as if trying to offer you some of the peace you were missing at that moment. You shook her hand in return.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Glenn then turned to the woman next to her, who had a more reserved appearance but a calm presence. “And these are Carol and her daughter, Sophia,” Glenn continued, pointing to the little blonde girl playing with a rag doll.

Carol looked up with a discreet but warm smile. “Nice to meet you, Y/N,” she said softly, while Sophia looked at you with shyness, hugging her doll a bit tighter.

Lori noticed the small sleeping bundle in your arms, and her face softened even more. “Is that… your baby?” she asked delicately, as if trying not to invade your personal space.

The question gave you a pang in your chest, and you felt a brief wave of sadness. You shook your head slowly, looking at Alice with tenderness. “No… I’m not her mother.” The words came out in a whisper laden with sorrow, reminding you of how much Alice had lost in such a short time. “Her parents… are gone.”

Lori didn’t press further or ask more questions, understanding the pain implicit in your answer. She simply nodded with a slight smile that aimed to be comforting. “She’s very cute,” she commented gently. “You’re lucky to have her with you.”

After a brief silence, Glenn took charge of the situation again, now that everyone had been introduced. “Well, let’s see if we can find a place for you.” He gestured for you to follow him, leading you to the area where the tents were set up.

Walking together along the path between the tents, Glenn gave you a smile. “You know, we don’t usually get many visitors. I think Daryl thought you were here to steal our fish,” he joked, raising an eyebrow with a small laugh.

You returned the smile, grateful for the attempt to ease the tension. “Well, if I ever get to that point, you’ll know I’m desperate.”

Glenn chuckled and nodded. “You’re right, I wouldn’t mind if it’s for survival. Although, in that case, I’d offer you one myself. I work hard to keep us stocked,” he said with a wink.

As you arrived at a small cleared area, Glenn stopped in front of his tent. “We don’t have a tent for you yet, but you can use mine until we sort something out. Don’t worry, I can sleep in the trailer, there’s enough space,” he offered without hesitation.

You gave him an incredulous look, grateful but also a bit embarrassed. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

Glenn made a casual gesture with his hand. “Don’t worry, I’ve slept in worse places than the backseat of a car. Besides, how often in life can you say you were a gentleman and offered your tent to a lady?”

You smiled, feeling a bit more relaxed with his sense of humor. “Well, I guess I’m lucky to have met a gentleman in these times.”

Glenn returned the smile, apparently pleased that his joke helped you feel more comfortable. “You know, if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask. We’re a small community, but we take care of each other. And now that you and Alice are here, that includes you two as well.”

You felt deeply grateful for his kindness, something that already felt rare in such a shattered world. “Thank you, Glenn. It really means a lot.”

You entered the tent, grateful for the brief moment of tranquility. You knelt on the ground, observing what was in the small space: a sleeping bag, a backpack, and a couple of neatly folded clothes on one side. It was simple but cozy, and at that moment, you realized how exhausted you were. You sighed as you unfastened the harness holding Alice and gently placed her on the floor so she could move and stretch.

The baby, always restless, took advantage of her freedom and began to crawl around the small space. Despite the circumstances, seeing her curiosity about the world brought a small smile to your face. “You really need a good bath,” you commented softly, as if the little girl could understand your words. Alice, of course, simply looked at you with those lively eyes, emitting a babble as she smiled, completely oblivious to the harshness of the outside world.

With a clumsy but determined movement, Alice crawled back to you, raising her little arms as if wanting to be picked up. “Again?” you murmured, lifting the little one and holding her against your chest. “I’ve spoiled you too much, haven’t I?” you said with a slight laugh, as Alice rested her head on your shoulder, her small body immediately relaxing in your arms.

You gently stroked her back, feeling her breathing calm and steady. The need to protect her enveloped you strongly, like a silent promise you had made without even realizing it. This new place, this camp full of strangers, represented a risk, yes, but also an opportunity. An opportunity to find a respite, at least for a while, so that both of you could regain your strength.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. Despite the initial distrust and the evident dangers of the outside world, these people seemed, at least, more human than what you had encountered before. Glenn had been kind, and the others had shown no signs of rejection. There was a certain sense of community in the camp, a spark of hope that seemed hard to find in these times.

[rich1etozier]

On the ground is a bleeding man, a pair of mangled wings sprouting from his back.

Eddie gasps. A faerie. A creature with wings whiter than the silver moon.

The thing on the ground stirs.

Eddie is unable to move, not even when the faerie pushes to his knees, then to his feet, blood from the wound Eddie inflicted spilling down his back like paint.

The thing looks like a man rises to his feet and retreats to the trunk of the willow tree. The white wings shift around him, tensed and flat like a wrinkled shroud. After a moment of deliberation, the faerie finds a suitable perch amongst the roots and settles on his haunches.

Eddie thinks for a moment he’s trying to hide himself like prey, seeing the broken wine bottle and knowing what they’re here for.

But then the faerie fixes his gaze on them, and Eddie’s blood runs cold.

Those eyes. They’re black like Father’s, dilated with too much drink. No white at all, just two black pearls in a sharp, pitiless face.

Eddie shakes on the ground, can't find it in himself to speak. Though, in reality, he knows he should say something. Faeries stand on ceremony. Faeries demand respect. But all Eddie can manage is a cotton-mouthed gasp.

This creature is beautiful, and terrifying.

It’s Dustin who breaks the tense moment. He stands, and steps forward with the lantern, their shadows swaying inside the curtain of the willow fronds. Across the lake, the sun has begun its descent behind the tree line.

“Hello again, Master Raven,” Dustin says, bowing deeply, arms thrown out behind him like a courtier. “We mean you no harm. My brother and I are only appreciating the beauty of the Blackwood on this auspicious night.”

“Yes, yes!” Eddie quickly agrees. He rises finally to his feet, shifts so he’s beside Dustin, playing along with his brother’s half-truth, “We were told of the equinox’s unique effect on the Blackwood, and… desired to see it for ourselves.”

Thick hair falls in the faerie’s eyes, the color of new hay after rain. The strands are long enough to trail around his shoulders, catching occasionally on the stark feathers. His expression remains an unchanged wall of apathy. Birdlike and unfeeling.

Eddie is unable to track where those black marble eyes are looking, but he has the distinct feeling that he in particular is being watched. He’s not sure how he knows it, only feels the gaze like a weight. Shivers move across his body.

“Who are you?” the faerie asks. His voice isn’t melodic. It’s deep and it grates, like scratching bone, like quenching hot iron in cold water.

Eddie staggers backward on his feet, nearly tripping on tall tree roots. “Eddie,” he stutters, before snapping his mouth shut. Don’t speak your name in the presence of fae. But it’s too late, he’s already said it. Eddie pushes Dustin behind him, blood cold. Nervous words pour from his mouth like a compulsion, "Our father is the village smith."

The thing that looks like a man points to the bottle in Dustin’s hands. “And you thought you could catch me? In that?”

Eddie lets out a shaky breath, chooses his next words carefully, “You graciously saved us from certain death. I would not reward help with betrayal.”

The faerie scoffs, emotion overtaking his face for the first time. Disbelief, indignation. “Reward? I do not seek the reward of a human.”

“A kindness, then,” Eddie corrects.

The faerie tilts his head, “But not your thanks?”

He’s trying to trap me. Trying to imprison me with words.

Eddie licks his lips, “No.”

A sound like raven-call escapes up the faerie’s throat. He’s laughing at Eddie. “I see you follow your rules well,” the faerie chuckles, shaking his head. “I do not care much for rules.” His wings unfurl, wide and magnificent—flapping once, twice, until he’s propelled himself within touching distance. He lands with a gentle step, tread so light he makes no prints in the fragile layer of moss. The ripped wings fold back up, limp and bloody, but he doesn’t shudder, doesn’t recoil in pain. He probably can’t feel pain at all. That seems like such a human concern, not something worth troubling over when you’re both more and less than a human.

The faerie closes the distance and suddenly he and Eddie are nose to nose, barely inches apart. They’re close enough that Eddie can see freckles on the faerie’s cheeks—They scatter down his neck in a constellation of dark stars.

“Would you like to play a game with me?” the faerie asks.

Even the horrible, teasing smile on his face is beautiful.

Oh god, don’t get distracted.

What had he suggested? A game?

Eddie wants to play, wants to stay just a moment longer in this creature’s presence. But. “We won’t have any dealings with you.”

“A game is not a deal. A game is for fun.”

“I don’t want to have fun with you.”

Inexplicably, the faerie pouts. It’s a grotesque arrangement of features on his wide, flushed face. Makes him seem both more and less like the faerie he is. Clumsily manipulative. Hatefully endearing. “I’m already having fun with you, whether you want me to or not.”

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this is an excerpt from Chapter 4 of my Faerie!Steve x Blacksmith!Eddie fic, "The Equinox Game" | Read from the beginning here!