#meaning he would follow their religious practices

[riversaremeanttobefollowed]

We all know that the reason why Bruce Wayne isn't religiously Jewish is because dc are cowards, but also because many of the community itself is cowards. I personally believe it comes from a lack of knowledge about what it even means to be religious because most of the community is Christian or culturally Christian. So as someone that would probably be considered not religious by Christians, but Religious by most other Jewish people, I think that Bruce Wayne fits in this section of being Jewish.

Bruce can't go to the Synagogue often because of the whole being Batman stuff, but he still goes on the high holidays when he can. He celebrates with the Kane family as well! And Kate would obviously understand if he couldn't come because she's Batwoman! Give me a Bruce Wayne says Yiddish curses. Give me a Batman that has a bunch of Chanukkiot that are just so pretty because they are rich and definitely have a ton. Give me Batfamily shabbat dinners when they are able to. Rest days on Saturday for the Jewish members when they are more members in the Batfam to make it work (and it being a mitzvah when he does have to be Batman on Shabbat because its a mitzvah to save a life). Give me Mezuzot on every entryway. Give me a Bruce Wayne who inherited his mother's seder plates and actually uses them. Give me a Bruce Wayne that says stuff like kein ayin hara before giving good news! Give me a confused Dick Grayson when Bruce insults him (its actually a compliment, but to ward against the evil eye you will say the opposite of what you mean) and then Bruce having to explain after he realizes that Dick has no idea why he just insulted him. Give me a Batman that follows Jewish values (more than he canonically does)

Just because someone ins't actively involved within a wider community of that Religion doesn't mean they aren't Religious! Or at least don't give me a culturally Jewish Bruce Wayne that doesn't do any of this. Thats just you stripping away all the Jewish parts of him.

Bruce Wayne is Jewish and you can't just ignore that

[taeghi]

game changer

your investigation into the rivalry between the baseball and hockey teams takes an unexpected turn when both captains, heeseung and sunghoon, vie for your attention. and now you find yourself in the middle of a story that promises to be bigger than any game.

PAIRING : hockey captain!sunghoon x sports reporter!yn x baseball captain!heeseung

GENTRE: SMUT, love triangle, threesome duh, oral, unprotected sex, cum eating lol, praise, degradation. uhhh probs more but i forget ily

WC : 20.2k

mdni

truth be told, you hated sports. 

you hated the religious jerseys, the chants, the complex rules– how it was so boring. 

but, sometimes the athletes were hot. 

in junior year you joined your college’s newspaper, you thought it would help your journalism major. your boss had told you the only opening was for the college’s sports reporter since the previous one had “given up”. although you had repetitively asked if there was literally any other opening, sports was the only one. 

and thus, you have become your college’s sports reporter. 

your college has multiple sports teams; basketball, baseball, rugby, football. but the teams that your college are most proud of– the teams that would fill the bleachers every game– is the baseball and hockey teams. 

honestly, you don’t get either sport. one was on grass and the other was ice and you try to get some object in a net. you could care less. 

the baseball and hockey teams have a hatred for one another that the students at your school seem to enjoy. though, the reason for the strong hatred is unknown. you’ve asked your friends in passing about the teams, but their answer is always a prediction or suggestion. 

the real reason is kept by the baseball and hockey teams, like a secret only they can know. 

and so, you’ve made your number one goal as sport’s reporter to find out what that secret is, and nothing will stop you– not even the awful smell of the change rooms.

the captain of the baseball team is lee heeseung. you know he was appointed captain quite early into his college baseball career. you remember everyone talking about it during your freshman year, about how odd it was for a freshman to become captain so quickly. 

you also know lee heeseung is fucking hot. 

he is extraverted and outgoing, a real sweetheart. you’ve heard people refer to him as a golden retriever before. the way he’s so playful, enthusiastic and friendly to everyone. 

but sometimes, that friendliness turns into flirting, and no one can deny lee heeseung’s flirting. he can easily charm anyone into bed with him with just his words and dazzling smile. he has an uncanny ability to captivate anyone. his natural charisma and genuine warmth make him irresistible. which leaves a trail of admirers just for him. 

the hockey team’s captain is no other than park sunghoon. 

sunghoon is enigmatic to say the least. he gives an aura of mystery and danger that seems to draw people in like moths to a flame. he’s known to have gotten into a lot of fights on and off the ice, almost losing his captain privilege once or so you’ve heard. 

sunghoon’s strong presence practically commands attention wherever he goes. his trademark smirk has gotten him into a lot of fun and a lot of trouble. you’ve seen him at a party, alone in a corner, pretending to talk to his friends, as he scans the party for a decent girl. once he’s fixed you with his intense gaze, smirk and nods in silent invitation, any girl is powerless to resist following him up to his bedroom.  park sunghoon and lee heeseung’s opposed allures are undeniable, their appeals irresistible, but you are determined to not fall for it. you must stick to your duty of finding out the secrets of the baseball and hockey teams– even if it means resisting the most desirable men at your college.

your first day on the job is picture day for all the athletes at your school. you are tasked with asking a few of the athletes some questions you had to come up with about their sport and how they are feeling about the upcoming sport season. 

it couldn’t be too bad you think. 

“everyone!” coach davis calls everyone’s attention, “we have a new reporter today, her name is y/n.” 

suddenly, it feels like every single pair of eyes on this soccer field is looking at you. you’re surrounded by what feels like one hundred men at once. 

“what happened to kevin?” someone calls out to the coach, the boy is on the soccer team by the looks of his uniform. 

“he quit.” coach davis explains. 

“no, he had a mental breakdown.” a boy in a basketball uniform clarifies. 

your head tilts in concern at the information. you were only told that the previous reporter had quit. no alleged mental breakdown was mentioned in your interview with your manager. what the hell happened to kevin with this job?

coach davis sighs beside you, his fingers pressing his nose bridge, “anyways, as i was saying,” the coach gives you a look of sympathy, “y/n here is our new reporter, so please treat her nicely like i know you all can. and take it easy on her, it’s her first day.” 

there is a mixed reaction from the large crowd in front of you and you don’t know where to look besides the ground. a few of them reply with “yes, coach”, while others are trying to stifle a laugh or are laughing. you can practically feel them judging or teasing you from across the field. by theirs and the coach's reaction, you wonder if they had a part in kevin’s “mental breakdown”. 

you have no idea how today is going to go.

after each athlete has done their team and solo photo for the year, they’re gonna line up for you to ask them a few questions for the college newspaper and yearbook. the first team that is done is the baseball team. there is about 20 of them in a circle when you walk up to them, your heart palpitating once you realize how many of them there are and how tall they all are. 

one of the baseball players notices you walking up and nods to the rest of the group, “there she is. ready for a mental breakdown?” 

a few of his teammates laugh while one nudges him to shut up. 

“well, i didn’t really plan to have one today, but if it happens, then it happens.” you shrug, making the baseball player laugh in response. 

“my name’s jake,” he reaches his hand out for you to shake. 

“yeah, well jake here,” the teammate who nudged him earlier puts his hands on jake’s shoulder, “is gonna go to the back of the line where he can learn to be nicer.” 

jake scoffs, “heeseung, i was just joking with her.” he turns around to face his captain. 

it’s then that you finally get to look at lee heeseung in his baseball uniform. he’s taller than you thought, and he’s more tan than ever- probably from practicing baseball recently. but up close like this, he really is so attractive. 

“i don’t care, coach said to be nice and go easy on her today,” heeseung’s voice is stern, playing his captain role, “go to the back of the line you’ll go last.” 

jake doesn’t say much more before he walks to the back of the line, his teammates teasing him as he passes them. 

heeseung steps forward to you, “sorry about that, our previous reporter had a, uh…” 

“a mental breakdown?” you finish for him. 

a pretty smile spreads across heeseung’s face, “well yeah, i was trying to make it sound a bit better, but yeah he did.” 

“so, i’ve heard. but don’t worry,” you put your hand on your heart, “i promise to try to not have a mental breakdown today.” 

heeseung laughs, “yeah that'll probably be for the best.” he steps closer to you, reaching his hand out like jay had done, “i’m lee heeseung.” 

your hand meets his, “yeah, i know.” heeseung tilts his head with a smile as you try to ignore your stupidity. “i’m y/n y/l/n.” 

heeseung smiles at you as you try to ignore how much longer his hands are compared to yours, “so what questions do you have?” 

“oh right,” you snap back in reality as you snatch your hand away from his, instead you start to flip through your notebook. you clear your throat when you look at the first question you had written down specifically for lee heeseung. you press record on your voice recorder and hold it up between the two of you to catch your voices. “uh, how do you feel about being the captain of the baseball this year?” 

heeseung smiles at your question, it not faltering on his face as he answers, “it’s a big responsibility. but i love it, you know? the team is like a family to me.” 

you nod at his sweet answer, not expecting anything else but it. your eyes glance down to the second question on your notebook. you know the next one may cause his perfect smile to drop. “so, everyone on campus knows that there’s always been a rivalry between the baseball and hockey teams. as the captain of the baseball team, do you have anything to add onto that?” 

you notice heeseung’s smile falters at your mention of the hockey team, but it doesn’t completely fade from his face like you had thought it would.  instead, he answers calmly to your question. “i mean, we just try to focus on our own game. we don’t let some tension affect how we play.” 

you nod, biting your lip at how professionally he replied. it wasn’t exactly the answer you wanted, but he did acknowledge that there was in fact some tension between the two teams. “okay, and lastly, what do you think is the biggest misconception about the baseball team?” 

heeseung’s smile brightens again, “i think people think we’re just jocks, but there’s a lot of heart and hard work behind what we do. we’ll definitely be winning a lot of games this year.” 

you smile at his answer and stop your recording, “thanks heeseung, that was great.” 

“it’s no problem,” he points with his thumb behind his shoulder, “good luck with the rest of them, if they give you any trouble just let me know.”

“i’m sure i’ll be fine, heeseung. but thanks,” 

heeseung smiles again, “i’ll see you around then, y/n. i’m looking forward to it.” you notice his eyes run over your face, scanning your features, before they briefly glance over your body until they meet your eyes again. his smile never leaves his face. 

you pretend to not notice his eye path and smile back at him, “see you, heeseung.” heeseung turns and walks towards coach davis. 

you look down at your notebook again, clicking your pen and checking off that lee heeseung’s interview was done. the field is loud around  you, and you look around at all the athletes in their different uniforms. you sigh, thinking about how long a day of this is going to be. but hopefully you’ll be able to get a good story out of it for your report. 

you’re reading all the names on the attendance sheet coach gave you, recognizing some names and unfamiliar with the others. you feel someone looking at you, and you glance around the busy field. through all the boys goofing around and laughing, you notice one that’s stood still from a few meters away. 

it only takes a moment for you to realize that it’s park sunghoon. he’s surrounded by a small group of his teammates and they’re all busy with each other except for sunghoon, who’s looking straight at you from over his friend’s shoulder. his black hair is falling into his eyes and you can see his famous moles on his face from here. 

as you make eye contact with him, catching him staring at you, he doesn’t look away. unlike heeseung, who would instantly smile back and beam a golden light, sunghoon’s facial expression doesn’t change. his eyes are piercing and cold as they stare at you. you can tell there’s a hint of curiosity on his features as he analyzes you from across the field. he doesn’t smile, his plump lips stay in a straight line. 

you couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t intrigued by his demeanor. that you weren’t interested in how focused, and almost stubbornly, he was staring at you. his eyes maybe staying on your bare legs from your skirt for a little too long than anyone else would. you thought about interviewing him next, seeing if he would have anything more to say about the rivalry than heeseung did. 

“hey, reporter girl! jungwon wants to be interviewed next!” a boy suddenly calls out to you. you turn and see that it’s another baseball boy, and he’s pointing to a boy beside him who’s probably named jungwon. you smile at them and nod. you turn your head over your shoulder to look back at sunghoon, but he’s not there anymore. you frustratedly pout as the other captain isn’t there anymore. but make your way to the baseball players again. hopefully they will give you more information.

you groan in your desk chair, staring at the scattered papers and notes in front of you. you had spent hours going over the interviews and information you gathered from picture day, but most of it was useless. the answers you got were vague and unhelpful, leaving you with more questions than answers.

you rub your temples, trying to soothe the growing headache from your relentless efforts. the only thing you can confirm is that there is a rivalry, and everyone knows about it. but no one seems willing to spill the details. it’s like they’re all under a gag order.

you glance at the attendance sheet coach davis gave you on picture day, every name was checked off that you had interviewed– except for park sunghoon. he had disappeared before you could interview him. the field was empty before you realized that you had missed him. 

your frustration bubbles over as you huff, pushing your notebook away. this investigation was turning out to be much more challenging than you anticipated. you thought being the new sports reporter would be relatively easy, but it turns out it’s harder than you imagined. it felt like you were running in circles. 

but at the same time it makes you more determined to uncover the truth. the headline you’ll be able to release makes you excited and you know it’ll be good for your career once you graduate. but for now, you let out another groan and sink back into your chair, contemplating your next move.

the journalism office door opens and blair, the arts and culture reporter of the college, who is also your friend, walks in with a concerned look on her face once she sees you slumped in your chair. 

“are you frustrated?” she asks, setting her bag down on the desk next to you.

“very.”

blair leans against the desk, her eyes sparkling with an idea. “well, if the athletes won’t speak, maybe get information from the students.”

your eyes widen at her suggestion. “blair, you’re a genius!” you exclaim, a renewed sense of determination flooding through you. you jump up from your chair, grabbing blair by the arm.

“what—?” she starts, but you’re already on the move, scooping up your notebook and pen in one swift motion.

“come on, we’re going to get the information from the public. the people who spread the rumors,” you say, practically dragging her out of the journalism office. you’re determined to get some answers. 

you usher blair to get her phone out, recording your interaction with students as you use a makeshift microphone; your voice recorder attached to a ruler. you tell blair to start recording, you start slowly walking back, talking into the “microphone” as you introduce the video. 

“today, we are at enha university,” you speak confidently, “there is a years long feud between the hockey and baseball teams– but what is the reason for it? today we will be asking the students that go to enha university for their opinion.” 

blair stops recording and puts her phone down to smile at you, “that was good, let’s go.” 

you first head out to the main quad, and walk up to a group of students who are sprawled on the grass. “hey guys, mind if we ask you some questions for the school newspaper?” the students all nod and blair pulls out her phone to record again, with her signal, you start, “so what do you know about the feud between the baseball and hockey teams?” you ask, holding up your makeshift microphone, you shove it in the student’s faces. 

“oh, it’s wild,” one student says, eyes wide. “i heard the baseball team thinks the hockey team was behind some major equipment theft. like, they’re convinced the hockey team took their bats!”

“yeah, and the hockey team thinks the baseball team has been spreading rumors to get them disqualified from big games,” another adds.

“okay, but what’s causing them to steal equipment and try to get them banned? what started it?” you press the two of them. 

the students shrug. “don’t know,” one says.

you look at blair’s camera with a frustrated expression, then turn back to the students. “thanks,” you say bluntly before moving on.

at the library stairs, you find a couple of students taking a break. you walk up to them with blair’s phone recording and your microphone up to your lips. 

“have you heard of the baseball and hockey team rivalry?” you ask them once you’re on the stairs with them. 

“oh god, who hasn’t?” one student says, rolling their eyes.

“what have you heard?” you tilt your head and pass the ruler microphone to them. 

“i heard the hockey team once accused the baseball team of planting false reports about them to the administration.”

“and the baseball team is sure the hockey team is trying to sabotage their top players,” another student on the stairs adds.

“thanks for the info,” you say, not pressing further, and nod for blair to follow you. 

once inside the school, you decide to head to the cafeteria. since it’s lunch time, it’s extremely busy. you approach a random group of students that are sitting at a table near a window. 

“what can you guys tell me about the feud  between the hockey and baseball teams?” you ask them, moving to sit beside them at the table. 

the students take note of your microphone and blair’s phone recording before they answer with a laugh. “someone said the baseball team trashed the hockey team’s frat house during a party.”

“yeah, they like, broke furniture and some alcohol bottles or something.” 

you note the details and move on to another group of students nearby.

“what’s up with the rivalry between the baseball and hockey teams?” you ask the trio. 

“some crazy stuff,” one student says. “i heard the hockey team took the baseball team’s playbook.”

“what playbook?” you ask, confused.

“it’s this book full of all the girls they’ve hooked up with over the years,” the student explains. “apparently, the hockey team thought it’d be funny to steal it.”

you exchange a look with blair, “thanks.” 

you and blair step outside into the main quad again. you plan on going back to the journalism office to review the footage and information you and blair recorded. 

“that was definitely some progress,” blair nods at you as she scrolls through the multiple videos on her phone. 

you nod, “yeah i think the playbook rumour was a good start.” 

“right?” blair agrees excitedly, “i mean a book full of all the girls they’ve hooked up with? that’s disgusting, no wonder there’s a feud.” 

you hum, “i wonder where that playbook is now.” 

blair gives you a look like you're onto something, both of you laughing as you continue to walk. she passes you to the phone so you can see how many recordings she got of your interviews. “we sure got a lot of footage,” you start, but blair cuts you off. 

“hey, isn’t that guy on the baseball team?” she says, pointing to a guy walking toward you. you look up and see him glancing down at his phone, a baseball bag slung over his shoulder with the enha university logo.

you recognize him as jake, and you quickly shove blair’s phone into her hand. “record.”

blair starts the recording as you jog over to jake, microphone in hand. “jake, you’re on the baseball team!”

jake glances up, noticing the microphone and blair recording. he chuckles, clearly not surprised. “well, yeah.”

“how do you feel about having a rivalry with the hockey team?” you ask, trying to get straight to the point.

jake raises an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by your question. “why do you want to know?”

you dodge his question and ask, “do you know anything about a playbook?”

jake looks at you, slightly confused. “uh, no?”

“how about a party where things got destroyed?” you press.

jake shrugs, “uh, every party has something destroyed after. what’s this about, y/n?”

you sigh and tell blair to stop recording. “i’m trying to find out the reason for the rivalry between the teams,” you explain.

jake laughs. “good luck with that. it’s just one sided from the hockey team. heeseung’s a good captain.”

you give him a determined look. “what do you mean by that?”

jake chuckles and starts walking away, “see you around, y/n.”

you watch him go across the main quad, determination flooding through you as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“i’m going to find out blair, no matter how hard it takes to break these athletes down. i will find out.” 

blair nods, and links her arm through yours, “yeah, but first, let’s get lunch. i’m starving.”

you remembered how park sunghoon had skipped your interview during picture day, leaving you with only one comment from one of the captains involved with the rivalry. 

so, you decide to make your way to the hockey rink on campus. 

you’ve heard that sunghoon shows up an hour early to practice. so you think that if you find him now, alone, he’ll be more forthcoming. you figure it’s worth a shot. 

when you reach the rink, you spot him skating alone on the ice, the sound of his skates slicing through the rink echoing in the otherwise quiet space. you glance down hesitantly at the ice below you. it’s clean and shiny and hard. you had never been good at skating. the fear of falling and hitting your head was too big of a fear for you. 

but you glance over at sunghoon, who hasn’t noticed your presence yet, too enthralled by skating.  you watch as he jumps in the air, twirling. and you’re suddenly taken aback by how graceful the jump was. you thought hockey boys were aggressive and rough. you’ve seen them tackle each other on the ice all the time, body checking each other into the rink. but now, sunghoon looked delicate and soft as he glided around. 

you take one more glance at the ice below you and sigh, knowing that you’ll have to face your fear and step onto it. the story was too good to pass up because of a childhood fear. 

you take your first step on the ice and figure that it’s okay. you keep walking slowly over to where sunghoon was. as you approach sooner, almost forgetting that you were even on ice, you feel your foot slip up into the air. you feel yourself falling, but before you can reach the cold ice, an arm catches you to hold you up. 

you open your eyes, and see sunghoon’s face over yours, his arm wrapped around you. he has an annoyed expression on his face as he looks down at you. like he’s judging you for falling. 

but you’re struck by how close you are to him. his skin is as pale as the ice beneath you, and for a moment, you just stare at him, caught off guard by his striking features.

“you should be careful,” he says, his voice as cool as his demeanor.

you pull away and stand up on the ice, still uneasy. “i am careful,” you retort, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

sunghoon raises an eyebrow, his expression distant. he looks you up and down, his eyes landing on your notebook and pen in your hand. “are you here to interview me about hockey?”

you frown, feeling defensive. “uh, i don’t know anything about hockey.”

sunghoon’s curiosity piques. “why are you the sports reporter if you don’t know sports?”

your irritation flares. “look, just tell me about the rivalry between the hockey and baseball teams.”

unghoon’s lips curl into a small, enigmatic smile as he laughs for the first time. the sound catches you off guard, leaving you both confused and nervous.

“the feud that the baseball team started and is constantly complaining about? why don’t you go ask them?” he says, his tone dripping with indifference. “i’m busy.”

sunghoon starts to turn around, but you question him, “how come you’re so good at doing those spins?” 

he stops and turns to look at you over his shoulder, “i’m not good.” he starts to skate off to the other side of the rink. 

you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. park sunghoon is a real piece of work. you start to slowly turn around, your lip pulled between your teeth as you look down at your feet on the ice. you feel your heart start to pound as you try to move across the ice to get off the rink. the ice is just so slippery. you can tell it was cleaned recently. 

suddenly, you feel a firm grip around your waist, and before you can react, sunghoon scoops you up in his arms and skates swiftly over to the side of the rink. you’re shocked at how fast he moves; it’s like he’s gliding on air. you’ve heard that he’s the fastest on the ice, but now that he was skating with you, you could tell how fast he really was. he deposits you gently on the edge, where you stand, stunned.

“uh, thanks,” you manage to stammer, still trying to process what just happened.

sunghoon scoffs, giving you a quick, dismissive glance before skating back to the center of the rink. you watch him, feeling a mix of confusion and embarrassment. you turn to leave, feeling defeated and empty-handed for your report.

“hey, yn!” sunghoon’s voice calls out, making you turn around.

“yeah?” you respond, already halfway to the door. 

“why do you want to know about the rivalry anyway?” he asks, his tone oddly curious.

“because it’s my job to know,”

with that, you spin on your heel and leave the rink, leaving sunghoon to his practice. 

as you walk back to the journalism office,  your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts. park sunghoon and lee heeseung are polar opposites, and it’s no wonder they can’t stand each other. 

sunghoon is so cold like the ice he practices on. he’s distant, wrapped up in his own world. there’s a certain intensity about him, a focus that’s almost intimidating. he’s methodical and precise on the ice, every movement calculated and deliberate. he’s almost unapproachable with his piercing gaze. 

and then heeseung is warm, outgoing and easy to talk to. he’s got this effortless charm and friendliness that makes everyone around him feel at ease. he’s the guy who lights up a room just by being in it, and it’s clear he’s well-liked, even if he’s a bit of a show-off.

you wonder what might have caused such deep hatred for one another. what could it be that connects them besides their role on a sports team. they’re just too different. 

your frustration mounts as you think about how little you’ve uncovered so far. both of them are so closed off to your questions. but it doesn’t make you any less determined to get to the bottom of their feud. no matter how much time it takes. 

there’s a story here, and you’re not giving up until you’ve got it all figured out.

on friday night, coach davis insisted you attend the baseball game, claiming that it was crucial for your report. so since it was your job, you went. even though you barely understood how baseball worked. still, you found yourself in the bleachers, a notepad in hand, surrounded by other students. 

the game began, and you tried to focus on the actual game, but your eyes kept drifting to heeseung on the field. it was the first time you’d seen him without a smile on his face. his expression was serious, concentrated and his eyes never left the ball. 

you watched as heeseung sprinted across teh field. the crack of the bat echoed, and heeseung was off before anyone else, to catch the ball. you held your breath, washing as he dove and grabbed it from the air. 

the bleachers erupted in cheers, the students jumping up and down around you as sat still. they were all screaming and calling his name. heeseung stood up, his charming smile spreading across his face as he held up the ball, showing off his catch to the audience. 

amidst the chaos, you could have sworn he winked at you.

on monday morning, after a long weekend of thinking about both captains and the rivalry. ou've been pouring over your notes, trying to piece together the story. you realize you need to hit this head-on. so, you storm into the boys’ hockey changing room first thing in the morning. 

the first thing you notice upon entering is the smell. it's a potent mix of cologne, sweat, and shampoo that makes you turn up your nose in disgust. some of the boys notice you immediately and start teasing you. 

"look who decided to pay us a visit," one of them says, grinning. "if you wanted to see us so bad, you could've just asked."

you roll your eyes, snarky in your response, "trust me, i'm not here because i wanted to see you.” 

another boy chimes in, "kevin never barged in on us while we were changing." he mentions the previous sports reporter you replaced, and you try to ignore their lack of shirts. 

before you can retort, sunghoon appears, his presence commanding attention. "okay, knock it off. go to class," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

the boys groan, but they obey, mumbling about how sunghoon is no fun. as they leave, they wink or nudge you, adding to your frustration. finally, it's just you and sunghoon left alone in the changing room. you notice he's shirtless too, and it makes you gulp.

sunghoon's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you forget why you're there. his skin is pale, his muscles defined, and he exudes a calm confidence that's both intimidating and intriguing.

"what do you want, y/n?" he asks, his voice steady and cold.

you take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "i need to know about the rivalry between the hockey and baseball teams. i can't write my report without the full story."

sunghoon narrows his eyes slightly, studying you. "and you think barging in here is the way to get answers?"

"i think it's the only way," you reply, your voice firm despite your nerves.

he scoffs softly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “well i’m showering.” 

you stand your ground as you watch him turn and walk towards the showers, only in his boxers. “so? are you gonna help me or not? i’ll do anything.” you sound desperate and you hate it. sunghoon turns on the shower. the water warming up. 

sunghoon turns to face you, his arms crossing over his bare chest and he quirks his eyebrow, “anything?” 

“anything.” 

a mischievous smile spreads across his face, “then get on your knees and show me just how badly you want it.” 

your breath catches in your throat as you process his demand. he chuckles at your appalled demeanor. he bends down and takes off his boxers, your eyes widened as his semi-hard cock is revealed. he steps back into the shower water– the water pouring over his pale, muscular body. his black hair becomes darker over his eyes. 

you think quickly of your choices. walk away with pride and no story? or give the hot hockey captain a blowjob and get a great story? 

you choose the latter with no further thought. 

you glance around one more time, the locker room is completely empty. you sigh as your hands pull your shirt off of your body, leaving your torso bare for sunghoon to see. his eyes stay fixated on your exposed skin. a smirk grows on his lips as he realizes that you really will do anything. 

you reach down and pull your skirt off, not wanting your clothes to become wet in the shower, and you step into the shower. you slowly sink to your knees, feeling the warm water hit your body now. your heart is pounding in your ears, but you can’t deny the arousal you’re feeling at the same time. 

“that’s it,” sunghoon encourages you, his voice like velvet against the shower walls, “now sow me what that nasty mouth of yours can do.” 

your hands shake as you reach up to touch his warm skin. his cock is harder now, so thick and veiny. you can’t help but let out a soft gasp at the sight. 

“you’ve wanted my cock in your mouth for so long haven’t you?” sunghoon taunts you, his hand reaching down to tangle in your damp hair. “go on then, taste it.” 

you lean forward, your lips wrapping around the sensitive head of his cock, tasting the tang of his arousal. you swirl your tongue, teasing the slit, as sunghoon groans above you.

“fuck, that's good. take more of me," he urges, his hips bucking slightly.

you oblige, taking him deeper into your mouth, relaxing your throat to accommodate his length. your lips slide down his shaft, your breath ghosting over the sensitive skin as you start to bob your head.

"ah, fuck, yes," sunghoon hisses, his hand tightening in your hair. "you're a natural at this, aren't you? sucking cock like a good little slut."

you moan around his thickness, the vibrations sending a shudder through him. the sound of your pleasure seems to spur him on, and he begins to thrust his hips in a slow, steady rhythm, fucking your mouth gently.

"take it,” he growls out at you, “you’re always getting yourself into a mess with that mouth, i think you need to be quiet for a while. so take my cock down your throat like the whore you are.”

his words are degrading, but they only serve to heighten your arousal. you never thought that you would be in this predicament before. so many girls would beg to be on their knees for park sunghoon. you never thought that you would be here, pleasuring him. though, you suppose both of you get something out of it. he gets to cum, and you get information for your story.

you hollow your cheeks, sucking harder, your tongue flattening to lick and tease his cock as you go. 

“oh god,” sunghoon groans out as he stares down at you. you force your eyes to stay open so they can look into his. you can see pure pleasure growing in his eyes. his eyebrows furrowed as he lets the pleasure take over his body. 

“fuck i’m gonna cum,” sunghoon grunts out, his grip on your wet hair tightens and he pulls your mouth off of his cock, leaving a string of saliva to connect your swollen lips to his sensitive tip. “tell me that you want me to cum down your throat.” 

you swallow before you speak, “i want you to cum down my throat, sir.” 

sunghoon hums in response, pleased by your answer. and honestly, you wre thrilled at the thought of tasting him, of having his hot release flooding in your mouth. because even if he was an asshole, he was very hot. you want to give him sexual pleasure, to milk him dry and feel his satisfaction. 

sunghoon shoves his cock back into your mouth roughly. you gag around him and it only makes him grunt out more. you continue to bob up and down his length at a fast pace, wanting him to cum. “fuck yes!” 

sunghoon tenses, his hand fisting in your hair, pulling on it, as he holds you firmly in place. with a deep grunt, he begins to unload inside your mouth. his ropes of hot, sticky cum shoot down your throat. 

and you swallow it all greedily, moaning at the taste. your fingers dig into his thighs. 

sunghoon lets go of you, his body relaxing back into the shower wall. both of your bodies are wet from sweat and the shower water. he’s panting as he catches his breath. his body is slightly shaking as he rides out his orgasm. “that mouth of yours is something else, reporter girl.” 

you raise an eyebrow up at him, his nickname for you brings you back to reality, “right so how about you use your mouth now to tell me my story.” 

sunghoon chuckles as he watches you stand up and exit the shower. you grab a spare towel and dry your body and hair, all while sunghoon stays in the shower, watching you silently. you try to not let yourself get intimidated by his staring. you’re sure that he gets off on making girls intimidated by how attractive he is. him knowing how attractive he is isn’t good for anyone besides him. 

you start to get dressed, your wet hair clinging to your face and neck. 

“i can’t believe you actually gave me a blowjob,” sunghoon grins, amused. you can see an annoying glint in his eye. 

“well you said you would tell me the story.” 

sunghoon shrugs, “yeah i said that. but i don’t have to tell you my story.” 

your jaw drops in disbelief. “are you kidding me? you tricked me!” 

“you’re easier than i expected,”

your anger flares up, cheeks burning. "you think this is funny? you just wasted my time for nothing!"

he crosses his arms, still smirking. "just give up on the rivalry story, y/n. you aren't going to find anything. go back to writing about the sports games. that’s what you were hired for anyways."

you grunt in frustration, grabbing your bag. “you’re so annoying, sunghoon!” you yell as you storm towards the exit. as you leave, you hear his chuckles turn into laughter as they echo in the locker room. 

"see you at the game, reporter girl!" he calls out, his voice mocking.

you don't look back.

on friday night, you’ve still gotten no new information about the rivalry all week, despite your best efforts. you’ve started to wonder if sunghoon was right and you should give up on the story. even if you really don’t want to. 

you’re sitting at your desk in the journalism office, frustrated. your name plate sits on your desk in front of you with bold letters underneath it that write : sports reporter. and you’re starting to hate looking at it. 

you’ll have to write about the rugby team’s game from the night before for monday’s paper. but your heart isn’t in it. you want to write something more substantial than scores and plays that the rugby players did. 

then, blair walks in, a little pep to her step as she glides through the empty office and straight towards you. “still nothing?” she asks, leaning against your desk. 

“yeah, nothing new,” you reply, staring at your blank screen.

 “maybe you should take the weekend off from this. let’s go to a party tonight.” blair’s eyes light up at the suggestion, her eyes wanting you to agree with her. 

you look up, curious. “whose party?”

 “lee heeseung’s.”

you scramble to grab your bag and swing it over your shoulder as you stand up, “let’s go.” 

blair laughs as you pull her through the office, “don’t you want to change first?” 

you stop and glance down at your plain blouse and plaid skirt, “no, this party is for work. i’ll play later.”

you rush blair to hurry up, your mind set on the party. all you can think about is getting more information about the rivalry. it’s going to be the death of you, but you’re determined to get to the bottom of it.

when

you and blair arrive at the party, the noise and energy hitting you as soon as you step inside the frat house. it’s just as crowded as you expected, and you’ve heard it’s a no hockey team allowed party.

you glance around, trying to spot the baseball players. your eyes land on jake standing by the backdoor. you turn to blair and say, “i’ll see you later,” before heading over to him.

jake notices you approaching and smiles. you can tell he’s already intoxicated just from looking at him. the cup he’s holding is sure to have alcohol in it. 

“hey, y/n!” 

“hi jake!” 

“i didn’t expect to see you here of all people.”

you laugh, “yeah, me neither.” 

jake spreads out his arms to show off the busy house, “well welcome to our party!” 

you nod along, laughing at house extraverted and drunk he is. “yeah, how is the team doing?” 

“we’re doing great! heeseung’s been killing it all season.” 

you tilt your head at the mention of heeseung, “right, i heard he’s pretty good.” 

jake nods enthusiastically. “yeah, he’s the best. i’ve known him for a while.”

“really? how did you guys meet?”

“we went to the same high school,” jake explains. “he was already a legend back then.”

you nod along, smiling, but your mind is racing. you realize that jake could be a goldmine of information about the rivalry. he must know something. you’re determined to get as much out of him as you can.

“that’s cool,” you say. “so, what’s the deal with this rivalry with the hockey team? seems intense.”

jake’s expression shifts slightly. “yeah, it’s complicated. a lot of history there.”

you’re about to press him more when another baseball player bursts in, shouting, “jake, come outside! jeongin is doing a beer keg!”

jake grins, “one sec!” he turns back to you and says, “i’ll see you later?”

you nod, “yeah, sure.”

jake smiles and runs out to join his friends, leaving you alone. you huff in frustration, looking around the crowded room. blair is nowhere in sight.

you start to weave through the crowded rooms, the partiers dancing around you. your eyes scan for any sign of blair, but she seems to have vanished into the sea of people. you turn a corner and nearly collide with someone.

“hey,” a familiar voice says.

you look up and find yourself face to face with heeseung. up close, his attractiveness catches you off guard again, and you’re momentarily speechless. “oh, hi heeseung,” you manage to say.

he flashes a charming smile. “i’ve literally never seen you at a party before, let alone my own party.”

you laugh nervously, “yeah, it’s not really my thing.”

heeseung’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “oh, so why’d you choose to come to this one?”

“uh,” you hesitate, your mind racing. you can’t exactly tell him you’re here to gather information about the rivalry for your report.

heeseung raises an eyebrow, his smile turning slightly mischievous. “to see me?”

you laugh awkwardly, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “well, i mean…”

heeseung laughs too, a warm, genuine sound that makes you feel a bit more at ease. “i’m just messing with you. i’m glad you came, though. it’s nice to see you.” 

you’re really shocked at how good he is at flirting. it makes you almost forget why you’re here. makes you forget that you’re trying to write what is basically an expose on him. 

heeseung’s laughter fades into a soft smile, and he leans against the wall, looking at you with a curious expression. “so, you’re really not into parties? what do you usually do on weekends?”

“mostly just catch up on school work, maybe hang out with friends.” 

he nods, seemingly interested, and then his eyes widen as a thought enters his mind, “

oh wait, you’re in my bio class, right?”

you blink, slightly surprised. “yeah, i am.”

“can you come look at this one question i need help with for my paper?”

you give him a cautious look, unsure of what he’s up to. “uh, sure.”

“cool, it’s up in my room. come on.” before you can protest, heeseung grabs your arm gently and starts weaving through the crowd. you follow him, your heart pounding a little faster with each step.

he maneuvers through the throngs of people effortlessly, his grip on your arm firm yet gentle. he takes you up the stairs, away from the crowds of people below. he leads you down the hallway and finally stops in front of a door and gestures for you to go in first, “after you.” 

you step inside, glancing around his room. it’s surprisingly tidy for a guy’s room, with a few baseball memorabilia scattered around. heeseung closes the door behind you and walks over to his desk, rummaging through some papers.

as you look around, you notice a small, leather-bound book lying on his nightstand. you pick it up and flip it open, curious. “what’s this?” you ask, holding it up.

heeseung turns from his desk, his eyes narrowing as he sees what you’re holding. “oh, that’s just a journal I keep for tracking my training sessions and stats. it’s nothing special.”

you nod, putting the book back in its place.

you notice a picture of heeseung and jake from when they were younger, and you’re reminded of what jake had told you earlier. now that you think of it, jake seems to really look up to heeseung, admiring him almost. you suppose it’s because they’ve known each other for a while. 

the rest of heeseung’s shelves have multiple baseball trophies and medals. something you’d expect from a baseball captain. 

“did you find the paper yet?” you ask him after a few minutes. 

heeseung hisses in frustration and turns back to his desk. “no, i can’t seem to find it.” 

“oh,” you nod, not sure of what else to say as you stand before him in his bedroom, his own party lively right downstairs. 

but maybe you can help me with something else.”

you raise an eyebrow, turning to face him. “like what?”

"well," he began, stepping closer to you. his cologne filled your senses, a mix of musk and citrus that perfectly matched his confident persona. "i've been meaning to tell you, i think you're really sexy."

your mouth dropped open, shocked by his forwardness. "me?” you squeaked, feeling yourself blush with bewilderment. 

"yeah," he continued, a mischievous glint in his eye. "the way you look as you report, taking notes, biting your lip as you concentrate on writing... it's fucking hot.”

you felt your body temperature rise as his words washed over you. no one had ever told you that the way you worked was attractive. you always thought your lip-biting was a nervous habit, but hearing heeseung describe it as sexy made your heart skip a beat.

"i'm so glad you're at my games now," he went on, his voice low and intimate. "it makes me want to do my best, knowing you're watching."

you were speechless, stunned by his admission. you never thought that you would catch the attention of lee heeseung. he was so popular and desired by everyone. there’s no way that he would ever want you. 

without warning, heeseung stepped even closer, his body brushing against yours. you could feel the hardness of his muscles, his strength, and his lean frame. he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear, and whispered, "i want you, right here, right now."

your breath caught in your throat as his desire washed over you.

"i want to feel you, taste you," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "let me show you how sexy i find you."

you nodded mutely, unable to form words, your body responding to his touch, to his raw, passionate desire. heeseung gently pushed you back toward his bed, his hands roaming over your body, mapping every inch of you with his strong, skilled hands.

"you're so beautiful," he growled, his eyes dark with desire as he looked at you.

you blushed under his intense gaze, feeling yourself grow wet at the way he was looking at you.

with gentle but firm hands, he guided you backward until the back of your knees hit the bed, and you sat down, your legs slightly apart. heeseung didn't waste a moment, moving between your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours.

"you have no idea how many times I've thought about this," he confessed, his voice hoarse as he reached out to stroke your cheek. “since the first day i saw you out on the field, when you were interviewing me.” 

you let out a shaky breath, your body buzzing with anticipation. no one had ever made you feel so desired, so wanted. you let him start to undress you, removing your blouse and skirt. it reminded you of when you were in the locker room with sunghoon. how different that encounter is to this one. heeseung’s taking his time with you, wanting to pleasure you. meanwhile sunghoon could only care about getting himself off. 

but both of them are able to get you so wet. 

heeseung's eyes traveled down your body, taking in your heaving chest, your nipples tight with anticipation, and the dampness between your thighs.

“you're so wet for me already," he observed with a groan. 

before you could reply, Heeseung lowered his head, his tongue snaking out to taste you. you gasped as he lapped at your core, his tongue probing and teasing your folds. he was relentless. his mouth kept licking and sucking at your most sensitive spots. he was able to find them so quickly it surprised you. 

"oh fuck," you moaned, your hands tangling in his hair as he ate you out with enthusiasm. "heeseung, I—"

"you like that, huh?" he asked, looking up at you briefly before diving back in, his tongue insistent, seeking out your swollen clit. "you like my tongue right here?"

"yes!" you cried out, your hips bucking involuntarily as he teased you with his mouth. "oh god, heeseung, don't stop!"

heeseung chuckled, the vibrations sending pleasant tingles through your sensitive core. "i wanna make you cum so hard, baby.” the pet name sent shivers (good ones) down your body, your stomach tightening as he was so gentle with you. 

and true to his word, he kept going, his tongue not stopping as he laps and probes at your pulsing clit. he suckled and nibbled, his fingers joining in, probing and stroking your slick entrance. you moaned and writhed under his gaze, his hands holding your thighs open. 

"heeseung, please!" you begged, your hands clutching at the bedsheets. "i’m so close!"

"cum for me, baby," he urged, his voice hoarse with desire. "let me taste you."

and with that, he suckled your clit gently between his lips, flicking it with his tongue, and you shattered. your back arched off the bed as a cry escaped your lips, your orgasm washing over you in waves of intense pleasure. heeseung didn't stop, licking your sensitive clit through your orgasm, drawing out every last drop of pleasure.

as you slowly came back down to earth, heeseung crawled up your body, his lips seeking yours. you could taste yourself on his mouth, and it only served to heighten your desire for him. his lips are gentle on yours, but needy. you could tell how sweet heeseung was. his praise was so different from sunghoon’s degrading. 

but for some reason you couldn’t help but crave both.

“let me fuck you, y/n.” heeseung whispers out, his face still close to yours. his eyes are so intense as you look at them. 

you nodded eagerly, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your orgasm. heeseung reached into his nightstand, pulling out a condom, but you stopped him.

"no," you whispered, your hands covering his. "i want to feel you, all of you."

heeseung's eyes flashed with surprise, and then understanding. "are you sure?"

you nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "i'm on the pill. i want to feel you."

a deep grin spread across heeseung's face, and he quickly shed the condom, his eyes never leaving yours. "fuck, you’re so hot.” he leans down again and kisses you with hunger. you don’t hesitate to kiss him back. 

with gentle hands, he positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his hard cock brushing against your slick folds. you felt his girth, his length, and your breath quickened at the thought of taking all of him.

"you ready?" he asked, his voice gruff with need.

"yes," you breathed, your eyes fluttering closed as you prepared for his cock to stretch you out. 

in one smooth thrust, Heeseung filled you, stretching you deliciously as he slid deep within you. you moaned loudly, your body welcoming his, the sensation of being so full sending you into a frenzy.

heeseung stilled for a moment, giving you time to adjust, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "so fucking tight," he growled, his voice raw with desire. "fuck, you feel amazing."

you opened your eyes, looking into his, and nodded. "move," you pleaded, your nails digging into his arms. "please."

with a grunt, heeseung began to move, pulling out slowly until just the tip remained, and then slamming back into you. you cried out, your back arching off the bed as he set a brutal pace, his hips snapping as he plunged in and out of your tight heat.

"oh god, heeseung!" you moaned, your body on fire, the pleasure building again. "harder!"

heeseung complied, his hands gripping your thighs as he pounded into you mercilessly. the bed creaked with the force of his thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

"that's it, take it all," he grunted, his eyes screwed shut in concentration. "you're so tight around me, baby."

"don't stop! please!" you begged, your nails digging into his shoulders. "fuck me, heeseung! make me cum again!"

heeseung's eyes flew open, locking with yours, and he increased his pace, his hips a blur as he drove into you with all his strength. "cum for me again," he demanded, his voice harsh. "let me feel that sweet pussy clenching around my dick."

your orgasm built like a tidal wave, the pressure in your core becoming unbearable. and then, with a loud cry, you shattered once more, your body tightening around his. heeseung groaned, his eyes rolling back as he felt your tight channel convulsing around him.

"that's it, baby, milk my cock," he encouraged, his thrusts becoming erratic as your spasming walls milked him. "fuck, I'm close!"

you whimpered as he pounded into you relentlessly, his balls slapping against your sensitive core. "cum inside of me, heeseung," your eyebrows furrowed together as you watched him continue to thrust in and out of you. “fill me up please, i want it so bad.” 

with a final moan, heeseung exploded within you, his hot cum flooding your pussy. he thrust a few more times, emptying himself completely, making a mess. 

heeseung leaves his face close to yours, making it easy for him to press his lips onto yours. they linger on yours for a while, soft and tender, as if he’s savoring the moment. when he finally pulls back, his eyes are warm, a stark contrast to the usual playful glint they hold. he brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

your mind is still hazy and your body is coming down from its high. you can almost barely feel his touch as he caresses your skin softly. 

you okay?” he whispers, his voice soft, filled with genuine concern.

you nod, feeling a strange flutter in your chest. “yeah… i’m okay.”

heeseung smiles at your breathlessness, thinking to himself how cute and worn out you look underneath him. your cheeks are flushed pink and there’s a thin line of sweat on your forehead. but he can’t help but think how beautiful you look.

heeseung seems to be fully present, fully focused on you. it makes your heart pound. he’s not rushing anything. 

he reaches over to grab a bottle of water, uncapping it and offering it to you first. “drink,” he says, his voice still gentle.

you take a sip, the cold water a sharp contrast to the warmth still lingering in your body. heeseung takes the bottle back, drinking after you, and then sets it aside. he pulls you close, kissing your forehead. 

then, he pulls away from you slowly, his lips brushing against yours one last time before he sits up. he moves with a certain tenderness, like he’s afraid to break whatever fragile thing has settled between you two. as he gets up, you watch him disappear into the bathroom, your heart still racing, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

he returns moments later with a towel in hand. you’re surprised when he kneels beside you, the soft light from the lamp casting a warm glow over his face. without a word, he gently begins to wipe your skin, careful and considerate. the gesture is intimate, unexpectedly so, and it makes your heart pound even harder.

you lie there, watching him in stunned silence as he moves with a gentle focus, his eyes soft and his touch deliberate. it’s almost like he’s caring for you in a way you didn’t expect—a way you hadn’t even thought possible.

you had heard that the captain of the baseball team, the one before you right now, was a player, that he was charming and friendly and he would suck you in before you even noticed. you wondered if this was his usual routine. the routine that had gotten so many other girls to fall for him, for so many hearts to break. 

heeseung meets your eyes briefly, offering a small smile, one that feels genuine, almost affectionate. “there,” he says softly, once he’s done, folding the towel and setting it aside.

“thank you,” you whisper, not really sure what else to say.

he nods, brushing a thumb over your cheek before standing up again. “i’ll be right back,” he says, his voice still soft, as he heads back into the bathroom.

you’re left lying there, heart still racing, as you try to make sense of the situation. you hadn’t exactly planned to be here, naked in lee heeseung’s bed. but you aren’t disappointed. 

when you had started this investigation, you had only heard surface layer information about heeseung. but now you know that there is so much more to him. 

as you lay there, the warmth of heeseung still lingering on your skin, your mind suddenly remembers the investigation. the reason you were even here in the first place. you sit up abruptly, the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. you glance around the room. this is like an evidence goldmine. 

you spot a sweater on the floor and quickly throw it on. you know you have to be quick before heeseung comes back. 

your eyes scan the room, searching for anything that might give you some sort of clue, something that could move your investigation forward. but as you rummage through his things, you mostly find random stuff—some useless, some funny. an old baseball glove, a few crumpled up notes from class, a pack of gum.

but then, tucked away in a drawer in the far back, something catches your eye. you reach for it and pull out a small photograph. it’s a picture of heeseung and sunghoon, arms wrapped around each other, both of them smiling brightly. your jaw drops as you stare at it, your mind racing. they were friends at one point—close friends, from the looks of it. this changes everything.

before you can fully process the revelation, you hear footsteps. you quickly tuck the picture behind your back just as heeseung reappears from the bathroom.

“what’re you doing?” he asks, eyebrow raised in curiosity.

you force a casual smile, trying to act normal. “nothing, just… finding my clothes,” you say, glancing around as if you’re looking for them.

heeseung points to a pile near the bed. “they’re right there. but you can keep wearing my sweater if you want.”

you glance down and realize you’re indeed wearing his sweater, the fabric warm and soft against your skin. you smile, a little sheepishly. “oh, thanks.”

its awkward suddenly, maybe just on your side since you have his picture behind your back without him knowing. but thankfully, heeseung is the way he is and breaks the silence. 

“want a drive home?”

“yes, please,” you smile real big at him. 

when you’re dressed again and heeseung is driving you home, the night is quiet, with only the soft hum of the car engine and the gentle music playing in the background. the city lights blur past the windows, and you find yourself staring out at them, lost in thought. under the sweater heeseung let you borrow, the photograph you took is safely tucked away, its edges pressing into your skin like a guilty reminder.

you can’t stop thinking about how kind heeseung has been to you tonight. the way he looked at you, touched you so gently, and cared for you in a way that felt almost too genuine. it makes your heart ache, knowing that you don’t deserve any of it—not with your ulterior motives, not with the secrets you’re hiding. the guilt twists in your stomach, a gnawing sensation that won’t go away.

as the car pulls up in front of your apartment, you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. you glance over at heeseung, who’s already looking at you with that soft smile that makes your chest tighten.

“thanks, heeseung,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “for tonight.”

"no problem, y/n.” he smiles at you so genuinely it hurts, “just remember, i gave you a ride home—so no bad reviews in your next report."

you laugh, thinking about how little he knows about your intentions and investigation. but you nod anyways, not being able to say anything else. 

before you head inside, you turn back to him, catching his gaze one last time. “goodnight, heeseung.”

he smiles, waiting until you’re safely inside your apartment. you wave at him through the window, and he waves back before driving off into the night.

but as you close the door behind you, the emptiness settles in. the nausea in your stomach twists tighter, making you feel sick in a way that’s more than just physical. you hate this feeling—the way the guilt eats away at you, the way it taints every good moment you shared with him tonight. it’s a heavy weight, one you’re not sure how to shake off.

you wish you didn’t find the picture, but you know you can’t. there’s no turning back now, no undoing what you’ve set in motion. all you can do is push forward, even if it means sacrificing something you didn’t realize you wanted until now.

the journalism office was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that only late nights could bring. every other reporter had gone home, leaving you alone with just the glow of your desk lamp and the faint hum of your computer screen. the deadline for the week’s sports report was tonight. the empty word document on your screen taunting you as you struggled to figure out what to write.

your thoughts were a jumbled mess, torn between the story you knew could blow open your investigation and your gnawing conscience. the picture of heeseung and sunghoon from years ago sat on your desk beside you. it was a huge piece of evidence that could unravel everything. yet, the idea of exposing it felt wrong. 

you leaned back in your chair, running a hand through your hair in frustration. the memory of heeseung’s kindness gnawed at you, how he’d been so gentle, so sweet, kissing your forehead like he actually cared. and sunghoon, despite his aloof exterior, had ensured the other hockey players left you alone.

you sighed, staring at the blinking cursor on the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. should you follow your morals and keep the picture hidden, protecting them from whatever fallout might come? or should you chase the story, the career-making headline that could propel you forward?

your heart ached with indecision. another thought of heeseung drifted through your mind—how he’d smiled at you, how he’d been so careful and tender, treating you like you mattered.

before you knew it, you were typing and the headline that was in bold across your screen read : 

Football Team Has Another Injury

you exhaled slowly, sending it to your professor before closing your laptop and turning off the lamp, plunging the office into darkness. you grabbed your bag and left the office.  as you walked out into the cool night air, all you could think about was your bed—ready for the quiet, for the thoughts to finally stop swirling about both of the captains.

you’re sitting in the quiet corner of the library. it’s midday and the library is somewhat busy. though, you’re alone at your table. your mind is racing, thoughts swirling about how to move forward with your investigation.

you’ve made such a big deal out of this investigation, but now you want to stop because of a picture you found?

you’ve examined the picture more carefully whilst you’re alone. it’s not crumpled or scratched in anyway, which means heeseung cared about this picture, unlike everything else thrown away in the drawer you found it in. 

suddenly, someone sits down in the chair in front of you. 

your eyes widen when you realize who it is, which his dark black hair over his eyes and his pink lips pulled straight. 

“uh, hi?”

“hey,” sunghoon replies, his tone as cold and unreserved as ever. he leans back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest like this is just another day.

you’re confused, to say the least. the last time you saw him things didn’t go as planned and he was exactly nice to you. so why’s he here, in front of you in a crowded library.

you close your laptop slightly, your curiosity piqued. 

“what are you doing here?” you ask, your voice coming out as reserved and cautious. 

“can’t i sit here?” sunghoon asks, his eyebrow quirking. 

you cross your own arms across your chest, your defensive side coming out. you didn’t care how hot or popular the man was in front of you; he was an asshole. 

““well, after last time, i didn’t think you’d want to,”

“what?” sunghoon’s brows furrow, his expression hardening.

you roll your eyes, the frustration from your last encounter bubbling up. “you were so awful to me last time. why would you want to sit here like nothing happened?”

sunghoon’s face changes. his shoulders slump slightly as he puts his head in his hands, not saying anything. the shift in his demeanor catches you off guard, and you’re left staring at him, waiting for him to speak. but the silence stretches, growing more awkward by the second. you don’t understand him. 

finally, you groan, tired of the tension and the weird atmosphere. you start to pack up your things, ready to escape whatever this is. but before you can finish, sunghoon reaches out and gently grabs your arm, stopping you. you look up at him, and his usual cold, detached expression is replaced with something you’ve never seen from him before—desperation.

“what is it?” you ask, your voice softening despite your earlier frustration.

sunghoon takes a deep breath, his hand dropping to his lap. “i’ve been under a lot of stress. with school, with the team... and i know it’s no excuse to be mean to you. i’m sorry.”

his words hang in the air between you, sincere and a little vulnerable. you weren’t expecting this at all, and it makes your heart soften toward him. you nod slowly, understanding that everyone has their breaking points.

“do you want to talk about it?” you ask gently, offering him a way to unload some of the weight he’s carrying.

he shakes his head, a small, almost sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “no, it’s fine. i just... i really am sorry. you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

the sincerity in his voice and the look in his eyes make something inside you shift. the frustration and resentment you felt start to melt away. 

“it’s okay,” you say quietly, offering him a small smile. “i understand how stressful it can be in your position.” 

sunghoon nods, looking relieved, and for the first time, the tension between you eases. the silence that follows isn’t awkward anymore; it’s almost comforting, like a weight has been lifted.

“thanks,” he mutters, almost too softly for you to hear.

it’s silent between you in the library. both of you processing the shared moment. you think you’re starting to see park sunghoon in a different light. one that you didn’t think he had. 

“so,” you say, making your tone deliberately brighter, “you must be having a really tough week if you’re sitting in the library with me and not finding a girl to bring home tonight after the game.” 

sunghoon looks up at you, his eyes widening slightly before he laughs—a genuine, warm sound that surprises you. it’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh, and it catches you off guard how much you like it. it’s not the cold, sarcastic laugh you’ve heard before. 

“is that what you think of me?” he asks, still chuckling, his mood noticeably lighter.

“oh, come on,” you tease, grinning. “you have a bit of a reputation, you know.”

sunghoon shakes his head, still smiling. “maybe i should work on changing that, then.”

“might not be a bad idea since just, everyone on campus knows about it,” you reply, playfully nudging his foot under the table.

sunghoon shrugs, “i don’t care what everyone else thinks of me,” his voice softer, “i only care what you think about me.”

you tilt your head to the side at his answer. his soft smile lingers on his face and with the way he’s looking at you now, you think that you’re seeing a side of park sunghoon that not everyone gets to see. you aren’t sure how to respond to him. you aren’t sure what he wants from you. 

“anyways,” sunghoon shakes his head at your lack of answer, “how about i walk you to class?” 

you nod with a smile, still partially processing his words, “sure!” 

you start to gather your things, ready to leave the library with him. you sling your bag over your shoulder, something slips out and lands on the floor by sunghoon’s feet. sunghoon’s gaze drops to the ground, and his expression freezes when he sees what it is.

the picture of him and heeseung—the one you stole from heeseung’s room—stares up at both of you from the floor.

his previously soft, almost content expression hardens in an instant. his eyes darken with a mix of anger and confusion. he bends down, snatching the picture off the ground before you can react.

“where did you get this?” his voice is low, but there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach twist.

you swallow, trying to keep your voice steady as you admit, “uh, heeseung’s bedroom…”

sunghoon’s expression shifts from confusion to something sharper, more painful. his eyes narrow into slits, “you fucked heeseung?”

the volume of his voice rises with each word, drawing the attention of the students around you. the quiet library becomes suddenly too loud with the whispers and curious stares directed your way. you feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you snatch the picture out of his hand, your frustration boiling over. why would he automatically assume that you had sex with heeseung anyways? 

“why do you care who i get intimate with?” you shoot back, your own voice louder than you intended. “why do you only care what i think of you?”

sunghoon’s jaw clenches, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “i don’t!” he snaps, but the way his voice wavers makes you doubt him.

“then what is it?”

for a moment, he looks like he’s about to say something—something important, something real—but then he shakes his head, the anger in his eyes cooling to something else.

“nothing, just nothing, y/n.” his voice is quieter now, more defeated. “have fun with your investigation.”

he turns on his heel and storms out of the library, leaving you standing there, alone with the picture clutched in your hand and the weight of everyone’s eyes on you.

your heart races, but all you can think about is the look on sunghoon’s face right before he left—how hurt he looked, how quickly his mood changed the moment he saw the picture. 

part of you wants to chase after him, to demand answers, to figure out why he cares so much, but the other part of you just wants to get out of there, away from all the curious stares.

you take a deep breath, shoving the picture back into your bag before grabbing your things and hurrying out of the library. your mind is full of sunghoon’s sweet laugh and heeseung’s charming smile.

you toss and turn all night, your mind racing with thoughts of sunghoon and heeseung. no matter how hard you try, you can’t shake the image of sunghoon’s hurt and angry face from your mind. it’s a look you never thought you would see on his usual cool and collected face. it clings to you, gnawing at your conscience. you wonder if you liked it more when sunghoon didn’t show any feelings towards you at all and remained as cold and mysterious as ever. 

you start thinking about heeseung, too—how sweet he was, how he took care of you after, how you felt safe in his arms. but then your thoughts twist, imagining the look on his face if he ever found out you stole that picture from his room. how betrayed he’d feel, how that charming smile of his would disappear.

you sigh, sitting up in bed as the weight of your actions presses down on your chest. the more you think about it, the more you realize you can’t just let this go. you have to do something, anything, to make this right.

so you swing your legs over the side of the bed and grab the picture from your bag. 

you know the one place lee heeseung would be at this early in the morning; the baseball diamond. 

you slip on a hoodie and some sneakers, not bothering to change out of your pajamas and head out into the cool, early morning. the air is crisp, a sharp contrast to the warmth of your bed. 

when you finally reach the baseball diamond, you see heeseung’s figure against the light sky. you hesitate for a moment before stepping closer, clutching the picture in your hand. you start to rethink your actions and the words you practiced to say to him over and over again.

“y/n?” his voice suddenly calls out to you from across the field.

you glance up at him, and force a smile on your face and start to approach him. “hey,”

“hi,” he gleams at you, happy as ever. “what’re you doing here? it’s so early.” 

you shrug and look down at your shoes, slightly soaked from the morning dew. 

“y/n?” heeseung questions you, his hand reaching down to lift your chin back up so you’re looking at him. his face is contorted into concern. “what’s wrong?” 

you sigh and know that lee heeseung can read you like a book. so you take the picture from behind your back and give it to him without a word. 

you can tell by his face that he’s confused. the way he gently takes the picture and looks at it. 

“how… did you get this?” 

you bite your lip at the question you had hoped he wouldn’t have asked, but reluctantly tell him the truth. 

“from your room, when you were in the bathroom.” 

heeseung only nods, his eyes still stuck on the picture before him. so you continue with your apology. 

“i’m so sorry heeseung, i know it was wrong of me. i felt guilty as soon as i took it. i just– i get so caught up in reporting sometimes that i don’t think of the people that i’m reporting ons feelings. so, i’m sorry.” 

heeseung smiles again, and it surprises you, really. you thought he would react similar to how sunghoon reacted when he saw the picture. but then again, you know how different sunghoon and heeseung are. polar opposites. 

“it’s alright y/n.” heeseung nods, and you let out a sigh. “thanks for telling me the truth, i appreciate it.” 

“no, of course. it was wrong of me to take it without your permission.” 

“it’s okay, i guess i didn’t realize how important this investigation was to you.” 

suddenly there’s a scoff from behind you, causing both you and heeseung to glance back in surprise. 

there, stands park sunghoon. his face is held in an annoyed glare as he looks at the small distance that you and heeseung are standing at. 

“i guess you didn’t realize how important the investigation was to y/n.” sunghoon chuckles, “but i did. i knew it when she sucked me off to get information.” 

your jaw drops at sunghoon’s admission. you can’t believe he would say this in front of heeseung. 

you hesitantly turn to look at heeseung, who’s poor face is contorted into confusion as he glances between you and sunghoon, his rival. 

“is that true, y/n?” heeseung asks you, his voice softer and less cruel sounding than sunghoon’s. 

you can barely look at him, but you nod, silently. you feel ashamed for playing both of them, wanting to keep it a secret from one another that you had hooked up with both of them. 

you feel like you can’t be angry at anyone but yourself. 

heeseung brushes a hand through his hair, stressed. you think he’s going to cuss you out, but instead, he turns and looks at sunghoon. 

“why’re you here anyways, sunghoon? you never step foot onto the field.” heeseung’s voice is angrier now. 

sunghoon steps forward, his shoes brushing against the aggregate. “i came to let you know that even if you’re hooking up with y/n– that,” sunghoon hesitates as he looks at you,”that, i like her too, so.” 

your eyes widen in shock at sunghoon’s words. you never would have thought that park sunghoon would have liked you. you start to question all of his previous intentions with you. you had thought he hated you, but really, he had liked you? 

heeseung on the other hand groans, his body is unable to stay still as he steps around in disbelief. he angrily turns to sunghoon, “god this is so like you, sunghoon!” 

“what the fuck does that mean?” sunghoon barks back. 

“you always want what you can’t have sunghoon. you see something good and suddenly you want it too.” 

sunghoon’s jaw clenches and he steps forward too so him and heeseung are only a few inches apart. “are you forgetting that y/n hooked up with me first? god, this is so like you, hee.” 

you’re standing right in the middle of them, scared for both of them. upset at yourself for making them this angry at each other. 

heeseung chuckles, “yeah? and what am i like then?”

“you always have to make everything about you! lee heeseung, the golden boy, has to be the centre of attention all the time!” 

heeseung seems like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, “what the fuck are you talking about?” 

“you’re making this about you when it has nothing to do with you! this only involves me and y/n.” 

heeseung turns to you, his expression softening slightly as he meets your eyes. “y/n, do you really want to get caught up in this? in whatever the hell sunghoon is trying to pull?”

sunghoon steps forward, his voice lowering but still laced with tension. “y/n, i know i haven’t been the best to you, but i’m being honest now. i like you, and i didn’t know how to deal with my feelings for you before.” 

you swallow hard, feeling the weight of their gazes on you. this is too much, too fast. you’re not even sure how you feel about sunghoon’s confession, or how this affects whatever’s going on with heeseung.

“i… i don’t know what to say,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

sunghoon looks at you with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “just tell me if you feel anything for me, y/n. because if you do, then maybe we can figure this out.”

heeseung crosses his arms, his expression guarded as he waits for your response. “and what about me, y/n? where do i fit into this?”

you feel like you’re being torn in two different directions. the two boys in front of you are completely different, but you feel an attraction to both of them whether you like it or not. you don’t know which direction would be best for you and it wouldn’t hurt the other. 

“i… i need time to think,” you finally say, your voice trembling. “this is all just… a lot.”

sunghoon’s shoulders slump slightly, but he nods, understanding. “okay. take your time, y/n. but just know that i’m serious about this.”

heeseung looks at you for a long moment before sighing. “yeah, take your time. we’ll figure this out.”

the silence that follows is thick with unspoken emotions, and you feel the need to get away, to clear your head. you turn and start to walk away, leaving the two of them on the baseball diamond alone. 

as you walk, you can’t help but feel the weight of their confessions pressing down on you.

god, you hated sports.

soon, heeseung starts to offer you drives home after school. his voice is always soft and considerate. it makes your heart warm. the car rides are always sweet and genuine and you find yourself reveling in how kind lee heeseung is.

he never rushes you out of the car when he pulls up to your place; instead, he walks you to your door, making sure you get inside safely. before you step inside, he leans in and kisses your cheek, his lips brushing against your skin in a way that sends a gentle warmth through you. it’s a sweet, lingering moment, and you can’t help but smile as you say goodnight.

when you walk into school in an early morning, goosebumps leveled on your skin from the fall breeze, you run into sunghoon who has his skates slung over his shoulder as he heads to the hockey rink. 

without a word, he slips off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. it’s a bit oversized on you, the warmth of it immediately comforting against the chill that has consumed your body. you instantly recognize his jacket as his hockey one– with his number embroidered on the back. he skims past you once he’s happy with the way it sits on your shoulder and leaves you in the hall. 

as you walk down the hall, sunghoon’s jacket still wrapped around you, you feel eyes on you, whispers following in your wake. even jake catches your eye from across the hall, his expression concerned when he realizes whose jacket you’re wearing. you find yourself holding onto the sleeves of his jacket, keeping the warmth and sunghoon’s cologne tight against your skin. 

heeseung always seems to know when you’re struggling with homework. he shows up when you least expect it and slides into the seat beside you, ready to help you with whatever you’re struggling with. he places his neatly organized notes on the table in front of you. 

“here, these might help.” he says, his tone casual, but there’s that familiar warmth in his eyes that makes your chest tighten. he doesn’t mind taking the next hour walking you through the material, even though he’s late for his next class. 

when you forgot your money on your kitchen table for lunch, you sit alone in the cafeteria, trying to distract yourself from the hunger rumbling in your stomach as you focus on your homework. a sandwich suddenly appears beside your book. you glance up and see sunghoon, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“you need to eat,” he says, his voice soft but firm. it’s a simple gesture, but it means the world to you in that moment, you really were so hungry. 

when you take a bite, he smiles and heads back over to the table he was previously sitting at with his friends, he doesn’t stop glancing over at you to make sure you’ve eaten the whole thing until you’re throwing the empty wrapper into the trash can. 

both heeseung and sunghoon are trying to prove themselves to you. competing for your attention. each of their gestures gets a little sweeter than the last. you’re caught between them and you’re unsure of what you should do. 

when you’re sitting in the journalism office, staring at your computer screen, the blinking cursor mocking you as you try to piece together your next report. your thoughts are a jumbled mess. the office is quiet, which should be good for you to think, but it’s not for your loud mind that won’t stop racing about one million things. 

suddenly, there’s a noise at the door, followed by grunting and muffled yelling. you glance up, confused, just in time to see the door burst open and both sunghoon and heeseung stumble into the office, each carrying two drinks. they’re both shoving at each other, jostling for space as they try to make it inside.

“stop! what’re you doing? they’re gonna spill!” you shout, standing up from your desk, your heart racing as you watch them struggle.

they both freeze when they see you, eyes wide like two kids caught in the act. for a moment, the room is silent, and then they both start talking at once.

“i was just bringing you a drink because i know how hard you work,” heeseung says, holding up his drink like it’s a peace offering.

“no, i was bringing you a drink,” sunghoon interrupts, his tone competitive.

heeseung scoffs, “please, she likes peach, not strawberry.” he glances towards sunghoon’s drink. 

“what? you obviously don’t know her, she loves strawberry.” 

they start bickering, each one trying to convince each other that their drink is the one you’d prefer. you feel your head start to pound, their voices overlapping and filling the small office space with tension.

“enough!” you finally shout, cutting them off mid-argument. they both go quiet, staring at you with wide eyes. you take a deep breath, trying to calm the frustration bubbling up inside you.

“i appreciate the gestures, i really do,” you start, your voice softer now, but firm. “but i need time to sort out my feelings, and i can’t do that if you’re both around me all the time. it’s… it’s too much.”

they both look at you, guilt flickering across their faces. they exchange a glance, then nod, understanding in their eyes. “sorry,” they both mumble at the same time, looking down at the drinks in their hands.

without another word, they each set a drink on your desk, their earlier competition forgotten. heeseung gives you a small, apologetic smile, while sunghoon just nods, his expression more subdued. they turn and leave the office, the door clicking shut behind them.

you let out a long sigh, the tension slowly draining from your shoulders as the silence of the office envelops you once more. you look at the drinks on your desk, a bittersweet feeling settling in your chest.

you sit back down at your desk, staring at the unfinished report on your screen. your mind is a swirling mess of thoughts, caught between sunghoon, heeseung, and the weight of your investigation. you press your fingers to your temples, trying to push the stress away, but it lingers, heavy and suffocating.

what are you going to do?

it’s been a week since you’ve seen heeseung or sunghoon. the silence between you and them has been unnerving, like an itch you can’t scratch. your mind keeps replaying your last encounters, the tension, the unspoken words, the way things were left hanging in the air. you’ve thrown yourself into your work, trying to distract yourself, but even that hasn’t been going well.

your boss has noticed your distracted state. she’s been getting increasingly frustrated with your recent reports, her critiques growing harsher each day. she’s told you more than once to at least act like you’re interested in sports when you’re writing. but your heart isn’t in it, and she can tell. tonight, you’re staying late at the journalism office again, trying to push through the mental block that’s been holding you back.

you’re staring at your screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, when you hear footsteps approaching. you glance up to see blair walking over, her bag thrown over her shoulder, clearly ready to leave for the night.

“hey, this came for you,” she says, holding out an envelope.

you blink, caught off guard. “what is it?” you ask, reaching out to take it.

blair shrugs, a casual smile on her lips. “i don’t know. but don’t stay too late, okay? take care of yourself.”

you nod, offering her a small smile. “of course. have a good night.”

“you too,” she says before heading out the door, leaving you alone in the dimly lit office.

you look down at the envelope in your hands, your name scrawled on the front in neat handwriting. there’s no return address, no indication of who it’s from. curiosity piqued, you tear it open and pull out the folded sheet of paper inside.

as you unfold it, your eyes widen at the title printed at the top: the truth behind the rivalry of the baseball and hockey teams.

you quickly skim the note, your breath catching in your throat as you realize what you’re holding. the note is brief, but the implications are massive. and they’ve chosen to share it with you. at the bottom, the note is signed simply: anonymous.

you sit back in your chair, the paper trembling slightly in your hands. the weight of the situation hits you all at once. your mind races, torn between the thrill of a potential breakthrough in your investigation and the fear of what this could mean for you—and for sunghoon and heeseung.

you reach towards your keyboard, typing out the headline you’ve thought about since the beginning.

your boss let you go home early today, she’s extremely happy with your work finally. she said it was the best report they’ve had all year. the school was buzzing, everyone congratulating you on the story. your article has sold more copies than ever. 

but still, you feel a wave of guilt continuously wash through you. 

you barely had time to settle into the quiet of your apartment when a knock at the door pulled you out of your thoughts. your heart jumped in your chest, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach as you opened the door.

heeseung and sunghoon stood there, both looking pissed. 

“uh, come in?” you stammer, stepping aside to let them in. they walk in, tension radiating off them.

heeseung is the first to speak, his tone sharp. “you told y/n what happened?”

sunghoon’s jaw drops, his eyes wide in disbelief. “no, i didn’t. you told her what happened, didn’t you?”

“no i didn’t,” heeseung snaps back, his voice rising. “you’re lying like usual.”

the argument escalates quickly, their voices overlapping in heated accusations. you can feel the situation spiraling out of control, and you step in, raising your hands.

“guys, guys,” you say, trying to cut through the chaos. “neither of you told me, alright.”

they both stop, turning to you with matching expressions of confusion. heeseung’s eyes narrow slightly as he processes your words. “then who told you?” he asks.

you shrug, feeling a bit uneasy under their intense gazes. “i got an anonymous tip.”

“a what?” sunghoon repeats, his voice laced with suspicion.

“i got a letter,” you explain, pulling the envelope out of your bag and holding it up. “signed by anonymous.”

heeseung’s expression darkens. “let me see this letter,” he demands, holding out his hand.

you hand it over, watching as they both lean in to read it together. the room is thick with tension, their silence as they read almost unbearable.

when they finish, you speak up, your voice cutting through the heavy silence. “is it true? sunghoon, you slept with heeseung’s girlfriend in high school?”

sunghoon’s mouth opens in a protest, his voice ringing out, “no,” at the exact moment that heeseung says, “yes.”

the word hangs in the air between them, their conflicting answers sparking another round of glares and tension. they turn on each other again, the hostility simmering just below the surface, ready to erupt.

“are you seriously going to lie about this, sunghoon?” heeseung says, his tone icy.

sunghoon glares back, his voice filled with frustration. “i’m not lying. it wasn’t like that, and you know it.”

“then what was it like?” heeseung fires back, his anger barely contained.

“maia told me you were on a break!” sunghoon shouts with anger. 

“well we weren’t!” 

“well how’s that my fault?” 

you watch them, feeling the situation spiraling again. their voices are rising, the tension thickening with each passing second.

you step between them, your hands up as if that could physically separate their anger. “enough, both of you,” you say firmly. “this isn’t getting us anywhere.”

they stop, their chests heaving with the effort of holding back their tempers. the room falls into a tense silence as they both look at you. 

“can you guys speak calmly, and listen to the other?” you ask them seriously, tired of them yelling all the time. 

heeseung is the first to speak again, “i don’t know why maia would tell you we were on a break, but it still doesn’t fix the fact that you were my best friend and slept with my girlfriend.”

sunghoon’s face twists in frustration, his voice pleading as he responds, “i know, i know, but i wouldn’t have done it if she wasn’t so upset. she told me you were on a break! she said she needed someone, and then all of a sudden, it just… happened. and we were done, and she left!”

heeseung covers his eyes with his hands, the weight of the memory clearly bearing down on him. “that’s not what maia told me, hoon.”

sunghoon’s brows knit together, his tone desperate. “what did she say?”

heeseung’s anger flares, his voice rising as he pulls his hands away to glare at sunghoon. “i don’t know, just that you told her to come over, and then it happened.”

sunghoon scoffs, shaking his head. “i told her to come over because she called me crying, saying how she messed things up with you and her! i didn’t tell her to come over so i could hook up with her!”

the room falls into a heavy silence as the words sink in. heeseung looks like he’s processing everything, trying to fit together the pieces of a puzzle that’s been broken for years. finally, he sinks down onto your couch, the weight of the situation pulling him down.

sunghoon hesitates for a moment before sitting down next to him. his voice is softer now, laced with a deep regret. “hee, you were my best friend. i would never do that to you. she told me you were on a break, and she was upset! i’m sorry that it happened, i really am. if i could go back and change what i did, i would, i really would.”

heeseung nods slowly, his anger ebbing away as he looks over at sunghoon. “alright, i’m sorry for not hearing you out earlier.”

sunghoon lets out a chuckle, the sound laced with a bittersweet edge. “yeah, you’re like, 4 years too late.”

heeseung laughs, the sound breaking through the tension like a breath of fresh air. it’s a small moment of reconciliation for the two of them.

you clear your throat, drawing their attention back to you. “well, now that that’s sorted out… i’m sorry for posting the report, i am.”

heeseung waves it off, a small smile on his lips. “no, it’s fine. you got us to speak instead of fight for once.”

sunghoon nods in agreement. “yeah, but who was the anonymous tipster?”

the three of you exchange glances, all shrugging as the question hangs in the air. none of you have a clue who it could be.

sunghoon clears his throat, the serious expression on his face returning as he looks at you. “i just… i hope that what you found out in the report doesn’t change your feelings for me. i want you to know that i never meant to hurt heeseung, and i truly thought they were on a break.”

you meet his gaze, searching for any hint of dishonesty. but all you see is a mix of vulnerability and hope in his eyes. after a moment, you nod slowly. “it doesn’t change my feelings, sunghoon. if you’re telling the truth, and you really thought they were on a break… then i believe you.”

a small, relieved smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and you can feel the tension between the three of you start to ease.

but then heeseung, still seated on the other end of the couch, shifts slightly, drawing your attention back to him. “so… have you made up your mind about who you’re going to choose?”

your breath catches in your throat as you look between the two of them. the question you’ve been avoiding is suddenly right in front of you, and you realize that you’ve been dreading this moment. your heart races as you shake your head, a quiet “no” escaping your lips.

sunghoon leans back, a contemplative look on his face. “well, then,” he starts, his voice carrying a hint of playfulness that makes you raise an eyebrow. “how about we help you with your decision?” 

heeseung glances at him, “what do you mean?” 

sunghoon grins, and you can’t help but feel a little nervous at the mischievous glint in his eyes. “i think we should both get a chance to prove to her that we are the right one for her,” he explains. “so, whoever makes y/n feel the best wins her.”

“how so?” you ask, trying to process what he’s saying.

“easy,” sunghoon shrugs, “we both get to fuck you.” 

heeseung seems to mull it over for a second, before a smirk spreads across his face, “i’m game if y/n is.” 

you blink, your mind racing as you try to process what’s happening. of course they are turning it into a competition, that’s all they know. 

the idea seems ridiculous, but at the same time, it intrigues you. 

before you can fully think it through, you hear yourself saying, “okay.”

the boys quickly shift on the couch, making room for you to sit between them. you move to sit down, your heart pounding in your chest as the reality of what you’ve just agreed to starts to sink in.

as you settle into the space between them, you can feel the tension building again, but this time it’s charged with a different kind of energy. sunghoon is on one side of you, his hand resting lightly on your knee, while heeseung is on the other, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

“are you sure, y/n?” heeseung asks you, as sweet as always. 

you bite your lip, “i am, but are you sure you both want to do this? i don’t want things to get weird between us all.” 

“don’t worry about y/n, me and hee both know that whatever you decide will be fair. we both just want to make you feel really good.” sunghoon speaks into your ear, his body warm against your side. 

you can't help but feel a surge of desire at their words. seeing the two of them so determined and eager to bring you pleasure has your body buzzing with excitement. "okay," you agree, your voice a little hoarse. "let's do this."

your breath quickening as Heeseung presses a soft kiss to your neck, his lips gentle and sensual. sunghoon's hands begin to roam over your body, sliding up your thighs and under your shirt, his touch electric. heeseung's hands join his, exploring your body with a mix of tenderness and hunger. their touches are different yet equally captivating—sunghoon's bold and demanding, heeseung's gentle and seeking.

you moan softly as their fingers trace patterns on your skin, igniting fires everywhere they touch. they take their time, exploring every inch of your body, drawing out your pleasure until you're a quivering mess between them. "you like that, don't you, baby?" sunghoon whispers, his lips brushing your ear. "you like being touched by both of us."

"yes," you breathe, your voice husky with need. "feels so good."

heeseung chuckles, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. "and we're just getting started, baby."

they continue their assault on your senses, mouths and hands working in sync to tease you. their fingers tangle in your hair, grasp your hips, and stroke your thighs. you feel yourself falling deeper under their spell, your body surrendering to their expert touches.

"let's go to your bedroom," heeseung suggests, his voice thick with desire.

you nod wordlessly, unable to speak as sunghoon plants sloppy, harsh kisses along your jawline. they help you up from the couch, their strong arms steadying you as your legs feel like jelly.

in your bedroom, the pace intensifies. heeseung and sunghoon waste no time in stripping you of your clothes, their eyes dark with desire as they take in your naked body.

"so beautiful," heeseung whispers, tracing a finger down your arm, sending goosebumps across your skin.

sunghoon's eyes shine with a mischievous glint. "you’re so sexy, can’t wait to hear you begging for more.” 

you swallow, a thrill running through you at their bold words. they guide you to the bed, their hands never leaving your body, always exploring, touching, teasing.

sunghoon positions himself between your legs, his gaze locking with yours as he begins to kiss and nip at your inner thighs. heeseung moves to your side, his fingers tangling with yours as he brings your hand to his lips for a soft kiss. "we're going to take such good care of you," he murmurs, his breath washing over your sensitive skin.

you feel sunghoon's breath fan over your core, his tongue flicking out to taste you. a gasp escapes your lips as he laps at your folds, his tongue confident and skilled. heeseung's fingers thread through yours as you experience wave after wave of pleasure, his thumb stroking your palm in time with sunghoon's tongue.

"he's good, isn't he?" heeseung whispers, his voice full of satisfaction as he watches your face contort with pleasure. "but I plan on being even better."

sunghoon chuckles against your sensitive flesh, sending vibrations through your body. he looks up at you, his eyes full of promise, before dipping his head to continue sucking on your clit. 

the feeling of sunghoon's tongue on your clit, coupled with heeseung's gentle caresses, is overwhelming. you feel yourself spiraling toward the edge, your body tightening like a coil. "hh god," you breathe, your hips bucking involuntarily. you weren’t use to having so much attention on you. it sent you to the edge so quickly. 

heeseung's fingers tighten around yours as sunghoon sucks your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling relentlessly. "come for us, baby," he urges, his voice husky. "let us know how good we make you feel."

you cry out, your body arching off the bed as you climax, waves of pleasure rippling through you. sunghoon rides out your orgasm, his tongue relentless until you're left boneless and breathless.

as you come back down to earth, heeseung's lips find yours, kissing you deeply as his hand strokes your cheek. 

"your turn.” sunghoon signals to heeseung, his voice laced with challenge. 

heeseung shoots him a determined look as he moves over your body, his hands exploring your skin. his eyes are full of heat as he looks down at you. 

sunghoon slips away, leaving you on the bed with heeseung, who takes his time exploring your body with his hands and mouth. he’s so caring and gentle, different to how dominant and rough sunghoon is. 

heeseung strokes your clit until your a writhing mess beneath him, your body crying out for more. “please”, you beg, “i need your cock.” 

heeseung smiles, “i know, baby, i know.” 

he aligns himself with your entrance, teasing you with slow, shallow thrusts that have you crying out with each movement. "tell me how good it feels," he demands, his voice thick with desire.

"feels so good," you whimper, your fingers digging into his back. "please, more."

sunghoon, who has been watching from the sidelines, moves closer, his lips brushing your ear. "you like his cock inside you, don't you?" he murmurs, his fingers trailing down your body to toy with your nipples. "you like being stretched around his thick cock."

Your words are incoherent as heeseung begins to pound into you, his hips snapping against yours as he finds a relentless rhythm. sunghoon’s hands and mouth continue to touch you and whisper dirty nothings into your ear. 

“that’s it, take his cock like the slut i know you are,” sunghoon urges, his voice in your ear driving you closer to the edge, “take it all.” 

you cry out as heeseung’s thrusts become harder, deeper, your body meeting him with each thrust. the pleasure builds within you again, an ache that begs to be satisfied.

sunghoon’s lips find yours, kissing you deeply as his hand slips between your bodies to rub your clit in time with heeseung’s thrusts.  "come for us again, slut" he commands, his voice firm. "let go."

“god, please cum, baby– wanna feel your walls tighten like a good girl.” heeseung moans out to you. his eyes are set on where his cock is meeting your pussy. 

your hands grip tighter around heeseung’s arm as you shatter around his cock, crying out his name as your body convulses with pleasure. sunghoon doesn’t stop his fingers from working on your clit, extending your orgasm until you’re sobbing and shaking and heeseung is cumming inside of you. he fills you to the brim with his warm cum, the feeling makes you whine out. 

as your orgasm subsides, heeseung slows his movements, his breath ragged as he pulls out of you. sunghoon moves in, his eyes dark with desire as he positions himself at your entrance.

"my turn," he growls, his voice thick with need.

you hardly have time to register what's happening before sunghoon fills you with one swift thrust, making you cry out at the sudden fullness. he buries himself to the hilt, his eyes closing briefly as a shudder of pleasure racks his body.

"fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his hips snapping as he begins to move within you. "so tight and wet."

heeseung moves to your side, his hands caressing your body as he watches sunghoon fuck you. "she does, doesn't she?" he agrees, his voice satisfied. “such a good girl for us.” 

before you can process his words, heeseung leans in, his lips capturing yours in a hungry kiss. his tongue tangles with yours as sunghoon continues his relentless pace, your bodies moving in sync.

you're overwhelmed by sensations, sunghoon's cock driving you wild, heeseung's lips demanding and insistent. their touches are everywhere, driving you closer and closer to the edge. "oh god," you moan, your body tingling with overstimulating pleasure. "i—"

"come for me," sunghoon commands, his voice a deep rumble. "i want to feel you fall apart around my cock."

his words are your undoing, your body surrendering to a powerful orgasm that has you crying out their names. sunghoon quickens his pace, chasing his own release as heeseung continues to kiss and touch you, driving you wild.

"so beautiful," heeseung murmurs, his lips brushing your ear.

sunghoon grunts, his body tensing as he finds his release, filling you with his warmth. he buries his face in your neck, his breath coming in sharp pants as he rides out his orgasm.

you feel spent and satisfied, your body still buzzing with the aftermath of your intense releases. your pussy is filled with both heeseung and sunghoon’s cum. your breath was ragged, your skin glistening with a sheen of sweat, and your heart was pounding in your chest. 

heeseung and sunghoon share a smirk that you don’t catch, their eyes still filled with desire as sunghoon pulls out of you. they both knew that they weren’t done with you yet. 

“why don’t we clean you up a bit?” heeseung suggests to you. 

sunghoon nodded in agreement, “yeah, we don’t want to waste a single drop of your juices, princess.”

you could only watch them as they spread your legs again, enough for both of them to fit in between. they wasted no time then, their eyes locking on your glistening, leaking pussy. they leaned in together, their tongues darting out to taste the mixture of your juices and their cum.

you gasped as their tongues flicked against your sensitive clit, sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body. they lapped at your pussy greedily, tasting each other's cum mixed with your essence. their tongues mixed together, swirling and twirling as they devoured you. 

"mmm, you taste so fucking good,"sunghoon moaned, his voice hoarse with desire. he nipped at your clit gently, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your veins.

heeseung hummed in agreement, his tongue delving deep into your hole, probing and exploring as he savored the flavor of your arousal. "so sweet.” he hummed. 

you whimpered as they licked your pussy. their tongues working in unison to bring you pleasure. their hands caressed your thighs, holding your legs open. 

"oh fuck, that's so good," you panted, your hands gripping the sheets tightly. “both of you eating me out.” 

heeseung chuckled, the vibrations of his laughter sending delightful sensations through your core.

sunghoon looked up at you, his eyes smoldering with desire. "tell us what you want, princess, and we’ll do it.”

you bit your lip, feeling bolder than you ever had before. "i want both of your tongues on my clit," you whispered, your voice thick with need. "please, make me cum all over your faces."

a growl escaped from heeseung's throat as he pulled sunghoon closer. "as you wish, baby."

together, they focused their attention on your clit, their tongues swirling and flicking in tandem. heeseung sucked your pearl into his mouth, his tongue working furiously while sunghoon lapped at your juices, coating your pussy with his saliva.

the sensation was indescribable. having two mouths, two tongues circling and sucking your pussy. you moaned loudly, your back arching off the bed as they pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

"that's it, baby, cum for us," heeseung urged, his hands squeezing your thighs. 

sunghoon added his fingers to the mix, thrusting them into your wetness as he curled them to hit that magical spot inside you. "cum for us, y/n.”

you shouted as the orgasm hit you. your body convulsed, your juices flowing freely as you rode out the intense waves of pleasure. heeseung and sunghoon continued to lick and suck, milking every last drop of your cum, savoring the taste of your release.

gradually, the intensity of your orgasm subsided, leaving you boneless and sated once more. heeseung and sunghoon looked up at you, their faces glistening with your essence, proud smiles on their faces.

"that was fucking incredible," you breathed, your voice husky and filled with satisfaction.

heeseung and sunghoon laughed at your bewilderment, their mouths and lips covered in their own cum and your juices. 

after the intensity of what just happened, the three of you collapse into a warm, comfortable silence. the room is quiet, only the sound of your breathing and the faint rustling of sheets filling the space. sunghoon is the first to move, his touch gentle as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his eyes soft as he watches you. heeseung shifts beside you, his hand sliding over your back in slow, soothing circles.

“you okay?” heeseung murmurs, his voice low and filled with concern.

you nod, feeling a strange sense of peace settle over you as they both take care of you in their own ways. sunghoon leaves and returns to hand you a glass of water, making sure you drink, while heeseung pulls a blanket over your body, tucking you in.

as you start to drift off, you feel heeseung press a soft kiss to your temple, and sunghoon’s hand remains on your waist, grounding you. you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the comfort of their presence, and before you know it, you’re asleep.

when you wake up, the room is dimly lit, the soft glow of the evening filtering through the curtains. you blink a few times, disoriented, before realizing that you’re dressed in an oversized hockey jersey and a pair of shorts that don’t belong to you. the jersey smells faintly of sunghoon, and you can’t help but smile at the thought of him dressing you while you were asleep.

you get out of bed, stretching a little before heading out to the living room. as you step into the room, you’re greeted by the sight of heeseung and sunghoon sitting on the couch, a bowl of cereal in each of their hands. they’re watching a movie, the light from the screen casting a soft glow over their faces, and you’re struck by how at ease they seem with each other.

heeseung is the first to notice you, his face lighting up with a smile. “hey, sleepyhead,” he says, patting the spot next to him on the couch. “come sit with us.”

you walk over, still trying to wrap your head around the sight in front of you. it’s almost surreal, seeing the two of them together like this, so relaxed and comfortable in each other’s company. it’s a far cry from the tension and anger that had been simmering between them just a short while ago.

“what are you guys watching?” you ask as you settle between them, your legs tucked under you.

“our favorite movie from high school,” sunghoon explains, his eyes still glued to the screen. “we used to watch it all the time.”

heeseung grins, nudging your shoulder playfully. “yeah, we probably watched it a hundred times back then.”

you can’t help but smile at them. it makes you feel lighter, the weight of the past few weeks slowly lifting from your shoulders.

as the movie plays, heeseung holds out his bowl of cereal, offering you a bite. you take it, savoring the simple gesture of sharing, and it feels like everything is falling into place. 

there's a sudden knock on your door, startling you out of your thoughts. sunghoon, who had been lounging next to you, looks up and asks, "who is it?"

you shrug, getting up to answer the door. "i don’t know, i’m not expecting anyone."

when you open the door, you’re surprised to see jake standing there, holding a box of green tea. "oh, hi jake. what are you doing here?"

jake gives a small, awkward smile. "well, i know you might've been feeling down about writing the story on heeseung and sunghoon since you've been close to them recently. so, i brought you some green tea to make you feel better."

you smile, touched by the gesture, and start to close the door, but then heeseung and sunghoon come up behind you. their eyes widen when they see jake.

heeseung, his voice edged with confusion, asks, "jake? why’d you come here?"

jake stammers, looking caught off guard. "hh, I just... wanted to check in on y/n. make sure everything’s okay since the anonymous tip."

“right,” heeseung nods, you can tell he’s suspicious about something, “you saw her article right? i mean, you were there with us in highschool when it all happened.” 

suddenly it clicks in your head about what heeseung is trying to figure out. jake only nods slowly, a small smile on his face. 

“yeah and i mean, if me and heeseung didn’t tell anyone about what happened in high school, then who do you think would have given y/n an anonymous tip, jake?” 

jake gulps, “i- i don’t know, guys.” 

“how’d you know i got an anonymous tip anyways? the only ones who knew about it were heeseung and sunghoon.”

at that, jake suddenly sighs, his shoulders sinking down, “fine, it was me who tipped you off.” 

heeseung’s face darkens, his voice filled with hurt and confusion, “you tipped her off? why, jake?” 

jake takes a deep breath, trying to explain. "because I admire you, heeseung. you’re like a brother to me. and sunghoon, he used to be my best friend too. i thought maybe if the truth came out, you two could finally move on."

you, heeseung and sunghoon try to process jake’s admission. 

jake lowers his gaze, the weight of his actions sinking in, "i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to hurt anyone. i just wanted to help fix things."

as the room settles into an uneasy silence after jake’s apology, heeseung finally breaks it with a soft, reassuring tone. “it’s okay, jake. we all needed to hear the truth.”

sunghoon nods in agreement, a hint of a smile returning to his face. “yeah, you were my best friend too. i’ve missed hanging out with you and heeseung.”

heeseung’s expression softens as he adds, “let’s start fresh, guys. this has gone on way too long.”

jake looks up, relieved to see their smiles, “yeah, well, it wouldn’t have been fixed without y/n. she’s the one who wrote the great report.”

you blush slightly, feeling a mix of pride and relief. “it’s no problem, guys. it’s all i ever wanted.”

with the mood lifting, you look at jake, sunghoon, and heeseung and suggest, “why don’t we all hang out? you’re here now, so let’s drink some green tea together and watch the movie.”

they all nod and you all sit down together, sipping tea and enjoying the movie they all used to watch together.  

the end of your investigation was one that you didn’t expect, but it was a happy one to say the least. you think that this is the end of your sports journalism career– you’re ready to write more thrilling reports once you graduate. 

but still, there was still one more question that you had to answer: who would you pick out of lee heeseung and park sunghoon? 

you’re lying in bed, heeseung’s arms draped comfortably across your stomach. his messy hair is sprawled across the pillow, a relaxed smile on his face as he sleeps. the warmth of his embrace is soothing, and you can’t help but feel content. heeseung has always brightened your day with his kindness and charming smile.

you don’t know what you’d do without him. 

then, sunghoon walks into your room, his pale, muscular chest on display. he hands you the daily newspaper with a gentle smile and quietly settles down beside you, careful not to wake heeseung. his presence is dominating and calming, and he leans over to press a soft kiss onto your forehead.

you glance at the newspaper’s headline: 

Ex-Sports Journalist Dates Two Captains

a quiet giggle escapes your lips, and just as you’re about to comment, heeseung stirs. 

“i wonder who that’s about,” he murmurs, still half-asleep.

sunghoon rolls his eyes playfully and says, “shut up, hee.” 

heeseung chuckles and replies, “gladly,” as he pulls both you and sunghoon into his arms.

the three of you collide together, making you and sunghoon squeal in surprise. the warmth of heeseung’s embrace and the closeness of your boyfriends together makes you relax, the headline long forgotten already. 

even though you can’t tell the difference between a homerun and a hat trick, you still managed to fall in love with both of the most popular athletes on campus. and, amidst the very long hockey and baseball lessons, and your hatred for sports, you’ve still managed to score a win in the game of love. the ultimate game changer. 

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

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[ridenwithbiden]

"Native Americans across Indian Country shared mixed emotions this week after President Biden apologized for the U.S. government’s role in running Native American boarding schools across the country.

During the 150-year practice, at more than 400 schools where the U.S. partnered with various religious institutions, Indigenous children were separated from their families and stripped of their language and customs in an effort to assimilate into white culture. There were also documented cases of abuse and death.

Secretary of the Interior Deb Haaland, who is a member of the Laguna Pueblo tribe and has been instrumental in bringing these issues to a wider audience through her Federal Indian Boarding School Initiative, applauded Biden’s move.

“I'm so grateful to [Biden] for acknowledging this terrible era of our nation's past,” Haaland, whose grandparents were taken to boarding schools, posted on X.

ederal Indian boarding schools have impacted every Indigenous person I know. These were places where children - including my grandparents - were traumatized. I'm so grateful to @POTUS for acknowledging this terrible era of our nation's past.

“I would never have guessed in a million years that something like this would happen,” she told the Associated Press.

At the Gila Crossing Community School near Phoenix, Biden celebrated Haaland’s historic role and apologized today for America’s “sin.”

“It’s an honor, a genuine honor … to right a wrong, to chart a new path,” he said. “I formally apologize as president of the United States of America for what we did. I formally apologize. It’s long overdue.”

However, Indigenous leaders and citizens across the country stressed that this is only the first step.

“This is one of the most historic days in the history of Indian Country, and an apology of this size must be followed by real action,” Nick Tilsen, who belongs to the Oglala Lakota Nation and is president and CEO of the Indigenous rights organization NDN Collective, told Yahoo News.

Tilsen believes that there are specific, actionable steps that need to accompany any apology. For him, that means passing the U.S. Truth and Healing Commission bill in Congress, rescinding medals of honor for those who participated in the Battle of Wounded Knee, releasing “longest living Indigenous political prisoner in American history Leonard Peltier, who is also a boarding school survivor” and “unprecedented investment in Indigenous languages and education.”

Principal Chief of the Cherokee Nation Chuck Hoskin celebrated the move, calling out Haaland’s role in particular, and echoed the sentiment of following any apology with action.

“The [Department of the Interior’s] recommendations, especially in the preservation of Native languages and the repatriation of ancestors and cultural items, can be a path toward true healing,” Hoskin said in a statement.

While many Indigenous leaders are calling for action, Tilsen stressed that this is also a time to hold boarding school survivors and their families close.

“At this moment in history, we have to remember many of the survivors of the boarding schools are still alive,” he said. “It's in every household and it's in every community. And it's directly tied to the struggles that our people have today.”

Dylan Rose Goodwill, who is Diné (Navajo), Hunkpapa Lakota and Sisseton Wahpeton Dakota, was visiting Sherman Indian High School in Riverside, Calif., on Thursday when she heard the news about Biden’s forthcoming apology. It’s a place that is part of her family history, as her grandmother (or másáni) was sent there when it served as a federally run Native boarding school.

She told Yahoo News that hearing the news there was “complicated.”

As the senior assistant director of undergraduate admissions at the University of Southern California, Goodwill was visiting the school as a college recruiter.

“I've always had these kinds of mixed feelings because it's been weird to be the admission counselor for the schools that my own grandparents attended,” she said.

“It was already a tough morning to go and then to receive the news on site was really a mixture of feelings because I felt anger mostly, where it was like disbelief that this was happening, excitement that at least it was happening, but also feeling like this isn't enough,” Goodwill added.

Sitting where her grandmother sat in the 1930s and '40s, Goodwill asked herself, “What is that gonna really hold for her now? She passed in '04.”

Biden’s statement comes 16 years after former Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper apologized for Canada’s role in the Indigenous residential school system — a topic filmmakers Julian Brave NoiseCat and Emily Kassie document in their film Sugarcane, about St. Joseph’s Mission School near the Sugarcane reserve in British Columbia.

NoiseCat is a member of the Canim Lake Band Tsq’escen and a descendant of the Lil’wat Nation of Mount Currie and whose grandmother attended the Catholic Church-run residential school and gave birth to his father there. He told Yahoo News that this moment was important for a “continentwide conversation about what happened to Native families and Native children at Native American boarding schools and Indian residential schools.”

Joining Biden and Haaland for the event on the Gila River Indian Reservation along with Kassie, NoiseCat continued, “The fact that the president has chosen to formally apologize to survivors and their families is a real testament to the significance of this story, which needs to be understood as a foundational story to North America.”

However, Kassie echoed that actionable steps must follow sentiment.

“As momentous and important as this day is, it's important that it's followed up with action,” she told Yahoo. “It's important that the records of what happened at these institutions that are held by the U.S. government and the Catholic Church are opened to Indigenous communities who are looking for answers. And it's important that those communities also have the opportunity to hold to account those institutions and individuals who abused them.”

For Tilsen, it’s also a time to “center the survivors.”

“As we sort of politically dissect this moment,” he said, “I also want to recognize the pain that is being resurfaced, and that our people deserve the right to have pain and they deserve the right to have rage in this moment while we lean towards moving forward in action.”

NoiseCat, who has a deeply personal connection to the residential school history, said, “I'm probably going to call my dad today after the apology and just check in with him.”

[envy-of-the-apple]

The Loneliest

Dark!Geto Suguru x reader

Word count: 3.3k

Synopsis: For the longest time, you always thought you could only see them. And then you met that priest

(Warnings: dark content, manipulation, implied non-con, geto commits elder abuse)

You're not sure what they're called, but you know they aren't good. 

Demons, you settled on calling them. They were ugly, disfigured, often garbed in dark, dull colors. Nothing about them was benevolent. You'd often see them sitting on people's shoulders, practically sucking their souls dry. The small ones were easy to ward off. Usually, they'd go away on their own after a few days. A weekend of relaxation was usually all people needed to get rid of them.

From what you knew, no one else could see them. In your younger days, it'd been isolating, terrifying. Now, you are a bit grateful none of your peers could see what you could. How they'd react, you couldn't tell. 

You barely even blink when your neighbor asks if you could give her a ride to the temple, ignoring the thing that rests on her shoulders. It's bigger than what you've normally seen, with wings and human teeth. She's an older woman, with kind smiles, rambling about how she heard that the nearby temple was offering body exorcisms, how much her back hurt. You don't mention that the monks and priests or any religious figures are all fakes who lie for money. You've never met a single priest who could see what you see. 

You say nothing because it wouldn't sway her either way. Besides, it was free. 

The temple was swathed in money, just as you expected it to be. Grand pillars, clean tile floors. Money wasted on gold staircases and shiny vases. On a whim, you followed your neighbor in anyway, passing by the temples' followers. The one thing that you did note, was the significant lack of demons in the area. 

You expected the Buddhist priest to be old, an ancient being that pretended to be wise. To your surprise, you were led to a man who might have been the same age as you, if not a bit younger. He was dressed in a monk's robe, he sat on the floor, resting his chin on his arm. A closed-lipped smile was spread across his face, dripping in faux-sweetness. 

You obediently stayed silent while your neighbor prattled on about her incident. He nodded along, but it was clear he didn't really care about what she was saying. You knew what he would do. He'd coo at her misery, give her beads that would do nothing, and send her on her way. A harmless waste of time, really. The demon won't stay forever. 

There's a twitch of his fingers. The demon leering over her body is suddenly sucked away from her, into his outstretched hand. The only evidence it leaves behind is a single marble. 

"Better?" he asks, with no change of tone. That same emotionless lilt. 

Your neighbor gushes, rolling her shoulders, saying that she's never felt this way in years. You can only watch the priest with widened eyes as your neighbor is led away by a woman with a tablet in her hand. The ball rolls along his fingers, like he too admires it. 

"How-how did you do that?" You finally ask. 

For the first time since you entered that room, his eyes meet yours. Brown, almost black. He tilts his head, wordlessly asking you to repeat yourself. 

"The demon," you press, "how did you get rid of the demon?" 

The smile slips, and he sits up ever so slowly. For a moment, you think you've done something incredibly wrong as he stands to his full height. The priest easily towers over you, you're dwarfed by his unfathomable height. He stops when he's a few feet away, assessing you. 

"You can see them," it's a statement, not a question, "the curses."

"Is that what they're called?" You eagerly ask, "Curses?" 

The smile is more real now, less manufactured. 

"You have a rare gift," he says, "truly one of a kind." 

Back then, you don't digest the supremacy of his words. You don't decipher the hidden meaning, the code, the disgust for the others. You were so happy to have finally met someone who can see them, like you could. Something like relief fills your heart, another justification that you weren't crazy. You weren't just seeing things. 

His smile grows. 

"I hope you continue to come back. I have many answers for you."

 

Over the coming weeks, you learn about jujutsu. You learn about cursed energy. You learned about sorcerers. You learn about a world you've never heard of before. A world you've always dreamed of. For the longest time, you always assumed you were the only one, that you were cursed. 

Now, you know you aren't. Not anymore. 

You aren't a jujutsu sorcerer, but you didn't mind. Master Geto (Suguru, he insisted you call him) was patient with you. Understanding. He'd sit with you for hours, even when he didn't have to, answering every question you could have for him. 

Out of guilt, you volunteered to find people who have been cursed to help with his cause. Sometimes, you'd have to spruce up Suguru's power, add a bit more science and structure to what he really does. It never backfired on you, so far. Just as he advertised, Suguru was able to collect every single curse you bestowed on him. Each person you brought in would leave refreshed and satisfied. 

As you came to spend time with the priest, you learned how wrong you were about him. When you first met, you thought he was a liar, a sham. Now, you know he's everything but. He's patient and caring towards everyone who follows him. He's so young, college-age, and yet he had even adopted two twins from a horrible house situation, taking them in as his own flesh and blood. 

On top of all his responsibilities, he still managed to make time for you. You can't imagine it's easy for him. Despite his clear passion, there's a glimmer of exhaustion in his eyes. Why does he spend so much time with you? 

You ask him that one day as the two of you walk through the gardens. He doesn't reply for a while, stopping to stare at a blooming bush of roses. 

"You remind me of someone," he says suddenly. 

You look up at him then, watching his face. A tinge of nostalgia rests across his eyes. You wonder what he's thinking of. School, homework and classes? The endless lectures, the smiles of friends. Maybe he's thinking of even older. Playgrounds and swing sets that squeak. Simpler times where he wasn't something that he is now. 

"I do?" you prod, tilting your head. He reaches out, brushing his hands against the petals, careful to avoid the thorns. 

He hums, "He is the strongest. More powerful than I could ever hope to be. He stood alone at the summit." 

He plucks the rose. The bush gives with a snap. It's a pretty color. A deep red. Almost as dark as blood =.

"It's why I always felt he was lonely," he continues, "No one else could ever understand him. It's lonely to be the only one, yes?" 

It was, you realize. It felt so lonely to see things no one else could see. No one else could relate to it, not even your parents. Your friends. You were alone for nearly decades. And then, you weren't anymore. 

"Your friend," you murmur, "where is he now?" 

Suguru peels off the last of the thorns, leaving the flower glossy and bare. 

"We didn't believe in the same things, towards the end. People change. I did, so did he," he pauses, "Sometimes, I wonder what I could have done differently that day. Perhaps we could have stayed together, if I had just changed his mind." 

You think about his friend. What their relationship was like. What it would be like to lose the only one who could ever understand you. Now that you had it, you could never imagine to lose it. 

"Either way, I don't regret my decision." 

He turns to you with a sigh, reaching out to your hair. You stay still as he tucks the flower behind your ear. The petals tickle your skin. 

"A change had to be made for humanity. Sacrifices must be made. I don't care if the people I cherish think differently." 

The petals tickle your skin. 

"I'm glad you don't regret your decision," you tell him softly, "because I'm really glad I met you, Suguru." 

He gazes down at you, his face the softest you've ever seen him be. His hand lingers by your neck a lot longer than it should. Still awed by him, you choose not to say anything about it. 

"And I, you." 

Everything was going perfectly. Until you ruined it. 

It was your fault. Your error. There's a set time that Suguru allows you to visit. You always arrive a few minutes later, because you only volunteer at the temple. You still have a job. You too have responsibilities. 

But today you arrived early. A fluke. You didn't intend on it, but you didn't think anything of it, Suguru always made time for you. And you didn't mind waiting a few minutes if he couldn't. 

The box of sweets jostled in your hold as you tucked it under your arm. By now, you recognize most of Suguru's followers, as well as the fellow monks. They greet you with too-wide smiles on their faces, the same as always. You've grown to not mind them. You pass them by with very little trouble, already knowing where you were headed. Suguru's client room was just around the corner. And you always enjoyed watching him work. 

In hindsight, you wish his followers would have stopped you, distracted you from your determination, it isn't like they didn't already know. You would have listened. Meeting Suguru was not a necessity. They could have lied for him. You could have kept the tentative friendship for just a bit longer. 

He was already with someone. Eager, and careful not to disturb, you stood just behind a pillar. You don't notice how wrong the scene looks, until you see her. He was with a woman, a bit older. There's a tiny curse on her lower back, latched onto her clothing. It won't matter, Suguru will easily get rid of it. She reminds you of your neighbor in so many ways. They were the same age too. It's why you are confused as to why she's practically kneeling on the ground, her head pressed against the floor, like she's begging. For a woman her age, that position could be a hindrance to her body. 

Still, she doesn't get up. You suddenly get this strange feeling that Suguru forced her to do this. 

It's ridiculous because Suguru is kind. He's kind and patient and-

"How many donations have you made to the temple these past few months?" 

You wouldn't have even thought it was his voice, had it not come from his mouth. He sounded so cold, mocking, cruel. 

The woman seemed to tremble even more. She pressed herself harder against the ground, as if pleading to God himself. Maybe to her, Suguru was God. 

"Please," her frail voice begs, "have mercy-" 

"Manami?" Suguru turns to his trusted assistant. You yourself have spoken few words to Manami, but whenever you caught her looking there was the slightest hint of pity in her eyes. 

Maybe this was why. 

She sighs, just as clinical as her boss, as if the poor woman's begging meant nothing to her, as did he. 

"It's been a 70 percent decrease, compared to the beginning of the year." 

Suguru turned back to the woman. She was going to injure herself-why isn't Suguru telling her to get up, why isn't he doing anything?

"You haven't made much of a contribution to the temple," he sighs like this is more of an inconvenience than anything else, "I have no use for an insignificant cursed spirit. I'm afraid I can't help you." 

She all but burst into tears, her sobs soaking the floor. You feel the numb sense of horror, misery and pain as her cries bleed into your ears. 

"Please-please Master Geto. I-I don't know how much of this I can take." 

Suguru regards her for a moment. 

"I think I might have a way to solve your problem, then." 

Slowly, she lifts her head up. You swallow at her face. Tired eyes, an exhausted look. 

"You-you do, Master?" 

His answer comes in the form of a snap of his fingers. 

It's the biggest curse you've ever seen, larger than a car. She doesn't even put up a fight, screaming and screaming and screaming. When her pitch changes, turning into something more out of horror than pain, you realize that she can see it too. 

It's a quick progression. It barely lasts a minute. The sounds of sucking and eating are so loud that it covers the sounds of the sweets dropping on the floor. They were supposed to be a gift for Suguru. You wanted to thank him again. You wanted to reward him for his kindness and patience. 

Master Geto only looks in mild disgust at the bloodbath. 

"They always die so messily," he sighs, looking at his blood-stained hands as Manami obediently hands him a towel, "Insects, that's all they are." 

For the first time, since you've met him, Suguru gives a genuine smile. 

It looks wrong. Too wide. Too many teeth. His lips curved into something thin and horrific. 

Something evil. 

It takes a week of your disappearance for Suguru to inquire why you haven't visited the temple. 

You leave the messages unopened. When he tries calling, you turn your phone off. For seven days, you stay away from the temple, away from sorcerers, and away from Suguru. 

A part of you still can't believe it. A part of you is convinced that what you saw has to be fake. Because, if it was real. If he had truly killed that woman, if he could control curses to do his bidding, then that meant for weeks-for weeks he was manipulating you. Lying to you. 

There was no if. That's exactly what he was doing. 

You sat on the couch, watching the TV in mild interest. Usually, at this time, you'd be at the temple, learning about the jujutsu world. Earlier, the lessons would fill you with a sense of awe. 

Now, you can't even think about jujutsu without thinking of Suguru next. 

Suguru mentioned he had a friend. A friend that was stronger than him, right? Could-could you find him? Could you tell him what Suguru has been doing-

"It's not very polite to ignore a person." 

You jump, wide eyes catching his figure right at the doorway. You get up to your feet, watching as Suguru casually steps into your home. Your safety. 

"How-how did you...?" You can barely get the words out. 

He understands you anyway, and out of your peripheral vision, you see a cursed spirit waddle up behind him. It coughs something out of it's throat. The remains of your door knob land by your feet. 

In any other situation, you would have been angry at Suguru's disregard for your property. Now, damage to your personal property was the last thing on your mind. 

He wasn't wearing his monk garb (A mere costume, you now realize). He had dressed in a shirt and casual pants. Out of his usual garments, he almost looks normal. Human. The exact type of person he'd spit on. 

"You haven't visited me lately," he starts, always one to get to the point. 

You shift on your feet, "I've been busy....with work. I haven't had time." 

"Really?" He tilts his head, assessing you, a hint of a smirk crosses his face like he knows you're lying. No, he does know you're lying. 

When you don't reply, when you fix your gaze on the floor, willing to God or demon or curse that he would just go away, Suguru sighs. His smile dips into a frown. The curse disappears. You feel like the room is a bit less suffocating. 

"I...apologize for what you saw," he finally says, "You shouldn't have seen it so early. I should have been more careful." 

You blink. For the first time in this conversation, you find your words. 

"Do...do you think that's what this is about?" He gives a blank look. "Suguru...you killed her." 

You expected some type of reaction. Aggressiveness, anger, defenses, excuses. You got none of that. Instead, Suguru merely hummed in acknowledgment of casual admittance. 

"I said it before, haven't I? Sacrifices must be made to change humanity." 

"That's-that's not sacrifice," it was like you were talking to a wall, repeating your point over and over again until you bashed your skull in, "that's-that's slaughter." 

"You said you were glad with my-" 

"You're killing innocent fucking people!-" 

"They're not people." 

You froze at his tone. Throughout your friendship with Suguru, you've seen him express a variety of emotions. Joy, exasperation, irritation. Never have you seen Suguru angry before. 

Never, until now. 

He stands up straighter, his hands twitch by his sides as if they're barely keeping themselves in check. His face has gone blank, like he's lost all motivation to fake his emotions now. There's no point to it, not when you know who he truly is. 

"They aren't even the same species as us," his words are quiet but you can hear the hatred and that scares you the most, "They are at the bottom of the food chain. Mere insects, parasites, that only create problems. They're not like you or me."

His smile comes back. Just as horrible as when you last saw it. 

"They're worthless." 

He's no priest, you steadily realize. He's no saint, no hero. 

"Get out."

You wish you could have made your words sound harsher, but it was barely a whisper. You couldn't even hear yourself, much less hear the venom. 

He sighs, his anger fades, the disappointment stays. 

"I understand." He nods, his voice too condescending to not be noticed. "To be perfectly honest, I expected this. You've spent your entire life with those insects, obsessing over their needs when you didn't have to. It's only natural to have an affinity for them. I did too. It's why I know, you'll feel differently in the future." 

"Fuck you," you hiss, "fuck you and your fucked up cult. You're a monster, you're a-"

He doesn't let you finish. One minute, he's across the room. The next, you feel his hand slap across your mouth as you fall back into the sofa. Your panic is immediate as he fully covers you with his body, pressing you into the cushions. 

Suguru's touched you before. You never noticed. Never cared enough to notice. They were sparse brushes of fingers against your waist, arms, shoulders. Harmless. 

Looking back, you wonder if you should have protested more against them. Maybe he'd have less courage to bury his face into your hair, breathing in your scent as he closed his eyes. Or maybe it would have just made it worse. 

"You're scared," he tells you, but it sounds like he's talking to himself, "It's okay to be upset." 

You scream, but it comes out as a muffled sob. Suguru's mouth trails down your cheek. He kisses the underside of your jaw. 

"You don't have to be. I promise I'll never hurt you. I cherish you too much."

He's lying. He's a liar. That's all he ever did. Lie to you. Cheat you.

When he pulls back to look at you, he almost smiles. 

"I think I'm starting to understand why he left: I let him go."

His grin gets wider.

"I don't plan on doing that with you." 

[charliemwrites]

Soooo a while ago I introduced a “rabid reader.” A reader character with a (non-sexual) body count and a nasty temper.

Anyway, I started thinking about her - and the discord does what it does - and realized that Pathetic Stalker Konig would be a great pairing for her.

So, CW for light stalking, violence, and slightly mean reader

You have a stalker.

He’s… not a very good one.

For one, you know he’s there. Have known since pretty much the beginning. He’s a big fucking Austrian that covers himself head to toe. Not even in subtle colors, but in primarily black. Maybe at night he’d stand a chance, but he follows you in broad daylight too. So, there’s that.

Then there’s the fact that you’re not really bothered by him. What’s there to be bothered by? He keeps his distance, doesn’t interfere with your life. Even when he finally does work up the courage to enter your home, he puts things back where he found them. So, again, not a big deal.

You keep waiting for the escalation. For gifts or letters or some obvious sign of his presence that even the most oblivious person couldn’t ignore. But none comes. Partially, you figure, because you’ve shown no interest in anyone. You have friends, yes, but those are so obviously platonic that even your stalker doesn’t seem jealous. And the few times someone else has made a pass at you, a quick and merciless shutdown follows. Your lack of romantic intentions for anyone seems to be coming him semi-level.

You wonder if this is how religious people feel, that vague sense of being watched. Though you don’t think your stalker is judging you. Be a hell of a thing if he did.

Then one day, things change.

You have this new coworker, Brandon.

Your other coworkers already seem to like him. They say he’s funny and charming and handsome, that he’s such a great fit for the team. You have no particular opinion because most people just aren’t interesting to you, and Brandon is Most People incarnate.

But Brandon seems to have an interest in you. Which, really, is such a poor choice.

He keeps ending up in the break room at the same time as you. Or passing by your desk for a quick question, only to try to lengthen the conversation with the casual chat. Makes a point of saying hello to you in the mornings and walking down with you in the afternoon.

You’re not annoyed yet, not really. It’s a change in your routine, but you’ve been told those are good, so fine. He’s about as bearable as anyone else (besides the rare few you call friend) so you don’t think anything of it. Even when your coworker giggles that he was asking after your romantic life, you tolerate him.

A few months later is the annual office party, a celebration of… something. It seems different every time. Record profits, company anniversary, CEO’s birthday… it doesn’t matter, really. Free food, socialization. It’s something to do.

You go, of course. As ambivalent as you are towards the majority of your coworkers, they do seem to quite like you, and insist that you come.

So you go. You plaster on that mild, practiced smile while they chat and joke, contributing readily when prompted. At the end of the meal, you’re wheedled into going out for more casual celebration. Again, you agree.

Brandon comes along.

And somewhere, throughout the night, Brandon thinks it’s okay to start touching you. An accidental brush here and there is fine, unavoidable really. You’re not opposed to touch as a rule.

But then the occasional bumps and grazes become more frequent, consistent. Purposeful. A hand on your arm, then your shoulder, then your back. When you step away, he somehow ends up right back by your side. So you resort to telling him not to touch you so casually. He scoffs, already past a healthy buzz, and dismisses you as being “uptight” because you’re still treating it as a “work thing.” That you just need some more drinks in you and everything will be fine.

You can feel it bubbling up in you, that inky rage. Maybe something flickers across your face because your coworkers are quick to divert his attention. Smart.

But twenty minutes later you’ve had your fill of socializing. The bar is too loud, people are getting too drunk, and you don’t like the looks you’re getting from more than just Brandon.

You say your goodbyes while he’s in the restroom and leave.

You’ve only just made it to your car when you hear quick footsteps, turn just in time for Brandon to catch up. It’s all just noise to you now, his tense laughter that you left at the worst time, that you’re mean for not waiting. That he wants to walk you to your car like always.

He tries to curl an arm around your waist. It takes restraint you don’t usually employ not to break it. To just step away and repeat (fuck you hate repeating yourself) that you don’t want to be touched.

And then he makes the fatal mistake of just not fucking listening. Of insisting. Of doing what he wants anyway.

So you break his hand. And while he’s still screaming in pain, you notice the shadowy flicker of your stalker ducking out of view.

It’ll stay your secret, you figure, and go home. Expect that to be the end of it.

Until you hear glass break when you’re just about to go to bed. You step out of your room, shoes on and knife in hand, to a fuck-off sized Austrian strangling Brandon. Oh, and stabbing him with a large piece of the lamp someone seems to have broken.

There’s water all over the floor because it started raining an hour ago. It’s mixing with the blood, diluting it pink on your floor. You retrieve a towel from the kitchen to mop it up before it reaches the rug.

All at once, things go quiet. Your stalker is kneeling over a still, dead-eyed Brandon, breathing hard. But his eyes keep flicking to you and then away, shoulders slumped and head ducked.

“You’ve made a mess. Clean up.”

Your stalker jumps into action. Seems to already know where all the housekeeping supplies are. In the meantime, you go digging through your closet for clothes. Can’t find any, so you settle for getting the washer and dryer ready. Order yourself a new lamp online.

By the time you’re done, the body is gone, the floors are clean and dry, and your stalker is fidgeting in the living room.

“Strip.”

He startles. Stares. You arch your eyebrows. Wait him out. But then he does as he’s told. Peeling off cold, wet layers with mechanical precision, until he’s got a damp pile at his bare feet. You give his mask an unimpressed look. That comes off too with an audible gulp.

You don’t really get attractiveness, as a physical quality. You understand proportions and features, and recognize that this man has some pleasing, if atypical, ones. Even with the scar.

“Good.” He shivers. “Now shower.”

He nods, ducks past you to the bathroom - again without having to be told where to find it. You gather up the clothes and toss them in the machine with a little extra detergent.

Walk into the bathroom and ignore the way he tries to cover himself, flushing tomato red from head to toe.

“Your name.”

“Konig.”

You narrow your eyes, but don’t press.

“Are you military?”

He’s built like it. Thick with useful strength, not aesthetic muscle. And he’s scarred all over. Some new, some old, all earned through violence and suffering.

“Military contractor,” he says. Then, quieter, “please don’t stare.”

Your eyes snap up to his. He can’t even hold it for longer than a second before dropping his gaze. You cross your arms.

“You’ve been watching me for 7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days. Put your fucking hands down.”

He twitches, but drops his hands to his sides. His cock - and it is, you acknowledge, very impressive - is filling out slowly but steadily. You consider it for a moment while he fidgets beneath the steaming spray.

“If you fuck me, will you be satisfied?” you ask.

Like touching, you’re not against fucking by default. It’s just one of those things you don’t think about often because you’re not especially interesting in most cases.

This - Konig - is not most cases.

But konig’s eyes dart up guiltily before he shakes his head. Surprised, you tilt your head.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

He nods so hard the back of his skull bumps into the shower head.

You hum. Stand there and watch him while he awkwardly shuffles until the washer buzzes.

“Finish showering, get your clothes from the dryer, then sleep on the couch,” you say. He swallows again and nods. “You can get blankets if you’re cold. Be here in the morning.”

With that, you turn to switch his clothes over. Then head off to bed, wondering if you’ll see him come sunrise.

Next

Masterlist

[burst-of-iridescent]

South Asian and Hindu Influences in ATLA (Part 2)

disclaimer: i was raised culturally and religiously hindu, and though i've tried to do my research for this post and pair it with my own cultural knowledge, i'm not an expert on hinduism by any means. should i mess up, please let me know.

please also be aware that many of the concepts discussed in this post overlap heavily with religions such as buddhism and jainism, which might have different interpretations and representations. as i'm not from those religions or cultures, i don't want to speak on them, but if anyone with that knowledge wishes to add on, please feel free.

Part 1

In the previous post, I discussed some of the things ATLA got right in its depictions of desi and hindu cultures. unfortunately, they also got plenty of things wrong - often in ways that leaned towards racist caricatures - so let's break them down, starting with...

Guru Pathik

both the word "guru" and name "pathik" come from sanskrit. pathik means "traveler" or "he who knows the way" while guru is a term for a guide or mentor, similar to a teacher.

gurus were responsible for the very first education systems in ancient india, setting up institutions called gurukuls. students, referred to as disciples, would often spend years living with and learning from their gurus in these gurukuls, studying vedic and buddhist texts, philosophy, music and even martial arts.

however, their learning was not limited merely to academic study, as gurus were also responsible for guiding the spiritual evolution of their disciples. it was common for disciples to meditate, practice yoga, fast for days or weeks, and complete mundane household chores every day in order to instill them with self-discipline and help them achieve enlightenment and spiritual awareness. the relationship between a guru and his disciple was considered a sacred, holy bond, far exceeding that of a mere teacher and student.

aang's training with guru pathik mirrors some of these elements. similar to real gurus, pathik takes on the role of aang's spiritual mentor. he guides aang in unblocking his chakras and mastering the avatar state through meditation, fasting, and self-reflection - all of which are practices that would have likely been encouraged in disciples by their gurus.

pathik's design also takes inspiration from sadhus, holy men who renounced their worldly ties to follow a path of spiritual discipline. the guru's simple, nondescript clothing and hair are reflective of the ascetic lifestyle sadhus are expected to lead, giving up material belongings and desires in order to achieve spiritual enlightenment and, ultimately, liberation from the reincarnation cycle.

unfortunately, this is where the respectful references end because everything else about guru pathik was insensitive at best and stereotypical at worst.

it is extremely distasteful that the guru speaks with an overexaggerated indian accent, even though the iranian-indian actor who plays him has a naturally british accent. why not just hire an actual indian voice actor if the intention was to make pathik sound authentic? besides, i doubt authenticity was the sole intention, given that the purposeful distortion of indian accents was a common racist trope played for comedy in early 2000s children's media (see: phineas and ferb, diary of a wimpy kid, jessie... the list goes on).

furthermore, while pathik is presented a wise and respected figure within this episode, his next (and last) appearance in the show is entirely the opposite.

in the episode nightmares and daydreams, pathik appears in aang's nightmare with six hands, holding what appears to be a veena (a classical indian music instrument). this references the iconography of the hindu deity Saraswati, the goddess of wisdom and knowledge. the embodiment of divine enlightenment, learning, insight and truth, Saraswati is a member of the Tridevi (the female version of the Trimurti), one of the most respected and revered goddesses in the Hindu pantheon... and her likeness is used for a cheap laugh on a character who's already treated as a caricature.

that's bad enough on its own, but when you consider that guru pathik is the only explicitly south asian coded character in the entire show, it's downright insulting. for a show that took so many of its foundational concepts from south asia and hinduism and yet provided almost no desi representation in return, this is just rubbing salt in the wound.

Chakras

"chakra", meaning "circle" or "wheel of life" in sanskrit, refers to sources of energy found in the human body. chakra points are aligned along the spine, with energy flowing from the lowest to the highest point. the energy pooled at the lowest chakra is called kundalini, and the aim is to release this energy to the highest chakra in order to achieve spiritual enlightenment and consciousness.

the number of chakras varies in different religions, with buddhism referencing five chakras while hinduism has seven. atla draws from the latter influence, so let's take a look at the seven chakras:

Muladhara (the Root Chakra). located at the base of the spine, this chakra deals with our basest instincts and is linked to the element of earth.

Swadhisthana (the Sacral Chakra). located just below the navel, this chakra deals with emotional intensity and pleasure and is linked to the element of water.

Manipura (the Solar Plexus Chakra). located in the stomach, this chakra deals with willpower and self-acceptance and is linked to the element of fire.

Anahata (the Heart Chakra). located in the heart, this chakra deals with love, compassion and forgiveness and is linked to the element of air. in the show, this chakra is blocked by aang's grief over the loss of the air nomads, which is a nice elemental allusion.

Vishudda (the Throat Chakra). located at the base of the throat, this chakra deals with communication and honesty and is linked to the fifth classical element of space. the show calls this the Sound Chakra, though i'm unsure where they got that from.

Ajna (the Third Eye Chakra). located in the centre of the forehead, this chakra deals with spirituality and insight and is also linked to the element of space. the show calls it the Light Chakra, which is fairly close.

Sahasrara (the Crown Chakra). located at the very top of the head, this chakra deals with pure cosmic consciousness and is also linked to the element of space. it makes perfect sense that this would be the final chakra aang has to unblock in order to connect with the avatar spirit, since the crown chakra is meant to be the point of communion with one's deepest, truest self.

the show follows these associations and descriptions almost verbatim, and does a good job linking the individual chakras to their associated struggles in aang's arc.

Cosmic Energy

the idea of chakras is associated with the concept of shakti, which refers to the life-giving energy that flows throughout the universe and within every individual.

the idea of shakti is a fundamentally unifying one, stating that all living beings are connected to one another and the universe through the cosmic energy that flows through us all. this philosophy is referenced both in the swamp episode and in guru pathik telling aang that the greatest illusion in the world is that of separation - after all, how can there be any real separation when every life is sustained by the same force?

this is also why aang needing to let go of katara did not, as he mistakenly assumed, mean he had to stop loving her. rather, the point of shedding earthly attachment is to allow one to become more attuned to shakti, both within oneself and others. ironically, in letting go of katara and allowing himself to commune with the divine energy of the universe instead, aang would have been more connected to her - not less.

The Avatar State

according to hinduism, there are five classical elements known as pancha bhuta that form the foundations of all creation: air, water, earth, fire, and space/atmosphere.

obviously, atla borrows this concept in making a world entirely based on the four classical elements. but looking at how the avatar spirit is portrayed as a giant version of aang suspended in mid-air, far above the earth, it's possible that this could reference the fifth liminal element of space as well.

admittedly this might be a bit of a reach, but personally i find it a neat piece of worldbuilding that could further explain the power of the avatar. compared to anyone else who might be able to master only one element, mastering all five means having control of every building block of the world. this would allow the avatar to be far more attuned to the spiritual energy within the universe - and themselves - as a result, setting in motion the endless cycle of death and rebirth that would connect their soul even across lifetimes.

[shojizbae]

Peeping Tom

Tamakixreader x mirio

Word count: 4K

Warnings: smut, voyeurism, oral (m&f receiving) jerking off, safe sex practices

Mirio didn’t mean to. He really didn’t. UA had very recently moved into the dorms when it happened. It was a Friday night, and he just finished a shower after getting home from his work study. Apparently, the walls were a little thinner than he expected.

Sometime around 8:30, he heard it. It started slow at first, talking. A movie played, but it changed so often that he couldn’t figure out which one. He had only a pair of sweatpants as he toweled off his hair when he heard it.

“(Y/n), woah!” It was the voice of his best friend and neighbor, Tamaki. His shy, elvish friend had finally confessed to his now girlfriend three months ago. (Y/n), a kind but rambunctious girl who had been dropping not-so-subtle hints for almost two years was one of Mirio’s favorites in the class.

Since getting together with Tamaki, she had drawn him out of his shell. It seemed tonight she would drag him out a little more complicated.

“What ‘woah’?” She gently placated

Now, Mirio, of all things, was not a snoop, but he was curious. Luckily, he wasn’t a cat, so he pressed his ear to their shared wall.

“W-we were just watching a movie. I didn’t expect you to get all handsy.” He said, and even through the wall, he could hear his best friend tucking his chin into his chest in embarrassment. So, they were finally gonna have sex?

Two weeks ago, Tamaki came to Mirio and Nejire with this concern. (Y/n) had very nonchalantly asked if he was ready or could consider getting physical with her. After about twenty minutes of gently calming him down, as he seemed to begin hyperventilating, he managed to say something he wanted meanly. Although his anxiety could try your patience occasionally, you were proud of the semi he was sprouting at the mention.

After that conversation, he went to Mirio, who coincidentally was with his girlfriend. He knocked at the door open (Y/n). Want to have sex with me!” He proclaimed in the closest voice he could muster. Unfortunately, he entered a scene from a magazine in the back of the store.

Nejire was in her school skirt and bra, her hair was disheveled but tucked to the side, and she was lying/ straddling Mirio's lap. Mirio was only in some checkered boxers and had one hand on her boobs and the other on her ass below her skirt. He managed a squeak before he spun around and slammed the door shut behind him.

His friends dressed quickly and chased him down, finding him with his head shoved deep into the dorm refrigerator.

“Uhh, Tamaki?” Mirio scratched his cheek but couldn’t hide his smile and his friend's antics

“Yeah, M-mirio?”

“Whatcha doing, man?”

“Uh, just getting a tea?”

“Yeah?” Nejire confirmed, “I thought Yaobara took the last ginseng one. And you hate the matcha ones?” Hado placated

“No, I think I see a Yuzu one back here.” He reached in and pulled out a can of lemonade and cracked the can open. He toon a sip just for show although not bringing himself to make eye contact “mmm refreshing. Well gotta get back to my dorm!” He tried to breeze past the couple until one of Mirio’s giant hands pushed him back by his chest.

“Slow down there, partner! What was this you said about you and (Y/n) having sex?”

“Mirio, not so loud!” Amajiki exclaimed

“Yeah, babe, why don’t we take this back to your dorm?”

“Right,” Mirio looked at his girlfriend with smitten eyes, then at Tamaki’s cherry-red eyes. “Why not yours?” He offered. Tamaki hung his head and pathetically followed the couple to Hado’s dorm room to discuss what this meant.

That was two weeks ago.

Ever since Togata had been anxiously waiting for some kind of sign that (Y/n) had gotten Tamaki into the sac. He felt like some religious fanatic awaiting a divine character, and here it was. Giggles and sighs, and the TV in Tamaki’s bedroom turned up a considerable few clicks.

He kept his ear pressed to the wall, but his curiosity was getting too powerful for him. Accidentally or subconsciously, he slipped through the wall, so his head and left should be passing ghostly through the barrier.- Now his head was in Tamaki’s dim closet where he always left his doors cracked for a long-standing fear of monsters. From his angle, he saw a scene that was downright painting-worthy.

You were sprawled over Tamaki’s lap with both hand tangled into the hair at the base of his neck. Tamaki had one hand up the back of your cardigan which was slipping down your right shoulder. It seemed he was fumbling with your bra clasp which frustrated Mirio because they had spent a considerable amount of time teaching him all about bras.

Frustratedly, you sat up and whipped your cardigan to the side, unclipping your bra and pulling it out of the front of your camisole slowly to tease your boyfriend. With the news he could see, Tamaki looked downright disfigured. His tie hung off his bedside lamp, the top three buttons of his school shirt had been hastily undone, and a speckling of hickies already decorated his neck and chest. Mirio heard him whimper below you as he braced his hands on your thighs.

“You’re beautiful (Y/n).” Tamaki proclaimed, which shocked both who’d heard it

“You don’t need to butter me up, babe, I’m already so wet for you.” You purred as you sunk back to his lips. Tamaki did his best to keep up with you, but the overwhelming barrage of kisses and the constant figure eight of your hips against his was becoming too much for him. Mirio watched in delight as you climbed. His best friend was like a hungry cougar. You gently placed your hands in each of his collarbones, pushed him back onto the plush pillows, and placed a gentle peck on his lips before shimmying down his thighs.

You landed softly on the carpet on your knees with your hands braced on his thighs.

“Uhh (Y/n), what are you…?”

“Shhh, babe, I want this to be special for you.” You held your pointer finger up to your lips in a hushing motion. Then you dug at his belt and enjoyed the iconic sound of a metal clacking against metal.

“(Y/n), You really don’t have to.” He anxiously pleads

“But, Ama, I want to.” That made something in Mirio’s stomach do Olympic gymnastics. There was a pleading glint in your eyes as you begged him silently. He closed his mouth and eyes and gave the subtlest nod known to man, and you dove back in. You tucked some hair behind your ear and undid the button and zipper of Tamaki’s green trousers.

“Take off your shirt, babe.” You ordered, and he obeyed happily as you tugged his boxers. He wriggled around and tossed his shirt into oblivion, and you fished his dick out of his briefs. “Woah, babe, you have such a pretty cock.” You stated proudly.

Mirio had to agree. Of course, he had accidentally caught glances in the locker room, but he was seldom hard in those situations. He could tell from this distance that your statement wasn’t just flattery. It was above average in length with a plump cockhead and perfectly flushed pink. Mirio watched as you took a lick from base to tip, and Amajiki warbled beneath your touch. You took his balls in your left hand and played with them.

Amajiki was notoriously neat, so he wasn’t shocked to see his friend had done some manscaping.

“(Y/n)~” he drawled the final syllable as you slowly sucked on his tip. Mirio could see his friend's abs flexing and twisting as he struggled under your mouth. “(Y/n)!” He groaned. Suddenly, he touched your shoulder and pulled off with an almost cartoon pop.

“Why are we stopping? Is it bad?” You added anxiously

“No! No, it’s. He wiped his eyes and tried to collect his thoughts. “It’s really, uhuh, really good. I don’t think I’ll last one second if you keep going.” He wiped his sweaty brow

“Aww,” you gave a downward smile, proud of yourself for being a natural. You started climbing up him again and gave him a long, searing kiss so he could taste his own precum on your lips. You started reaching behind you for the zipper of your skirt, but Tamaki caught your wrist before you could retake the lead.

“I’ll be taking care of that.” He stated as a wave of confidence overtook him. He held under your armpits and spun the both of you around, so he landed with a giggle in the tangle of his blankets. Often, you forget how strong your boyfriend is. Partly because he rarely wore tight or revealing clothing that showed off his sexy, lean muscles. They didn’t exude the confidence typical of people as powerful as him.

As he stood, he tucked himself back into his boxers but shucked off his pants and folded them at the waist before tossing them to the side. You laughed at his continued clean behaviors, and Mirio just enjoyed it. He claimed back over your abdomen to kiss your lips and your forehead.

Sensing his tiredness, Mirio returned his whole body to his bedroom and got some water. He brought his fist toward his chest in victory and recapped some water. He’s seen plenty more than what is appropriate, right? There should be no need to keep snooping? Right?

Mirio checked the lock on his door, relieved that he remembered to lock it while changing. Although it’s not as if everyone in the class hadn’t seen some part of him during training. He took another sip from his water bottle and plunged his head back into his ‘peephole.’

What he saw was miraculous.

Amajiki was laying shooter style between your spread legs. He had his right hand stuffed deep in your cunt, and with his left hand, he was holding yours.

“L-like this (Y/n)?” He sought your guidance and received only a high-pitched sigh

“Yeah! Mhmm,” you attempted to clear your throat to gain some composure. “Yeah, just like that, Ama.” You sighed

“Ok, but how’s the pace, or should I do anything else.”

“Y-you c-could play withhh my clit?” You offered. Mirio was gobsmacked. How did his shy, reserved best friend get his girlfriend to stutter like him?

“O-ok.” he unlocked his fingers from yours and started making gentle circles. He tried to find it, but notoriously, it seemed to be the eighth wonder.

“Um, a little higher, baby,” you took your once-connected hands and guided his left hand up to your clit and hiccuped. You found it, and Tamaki's gentle hands lay you out.

“Like this?” He smiled up at your pinked face

“Yeah, just like that, baby.”

“So this is good?”

“Yeah, hun, this is euuh,. This is really good,” you accidentally interrupted yourself. Jeez, Tamaki, Mirio thought you really needed more confidence.

“You know,” Tamaki jumped at the sound of your voice, “nothing's wrong, babe, just if you wanted, you could use your mouth.”

“D-do you want it?”

“Only if yoUU!” Before you could confirm, he placed his mouth right where his left hand was. The squee you let out emboldened both boys witnessing you. Until now, Mirio had been balancing on his knees and his right hand while his left hand pushed against the wall. Now, his left hand slid down to his navel and slipped under his champion sweatpants. There was a considerable pile of pre that had pooled in his pants, and he thanked his twenty-minute earlier self who had chosen to forgo underwear.

Quickly he was able to grab onto his cock as his gaze was fixed on you, the porno in front of him. Amajikis left hand had vacated your clit as his mouth took the promotion. Instead, he was grasping desperately at one of your boobs, and his right did its best to assault your g-spot.

Evidently, his right hand was doing a good job, and you moaned and writhed beneath your boyfriend's ministrations.

“Fuck baby, keep going,” you looked your leg over his shoulder and locked him closer to your pussy. Mirio started to circle his cockhead with his thumb as he heard your moans pitch up.

You sunk your right hand into his hair, which made Tamaki groan a little. Your left hand flew out to grip a nearby pile of comforter.

“Tama, uhh, I’m so close! Please, whatever you do, don’t stop or change anything.” And he obeyed happily, maybe adding to the intensity only emblazoned by your tenacity. Your other leg wrapped around the side of his ribs as you reached climax. All coherency left him as you came a jumble of Tamaki's names and various moans and squeals.

Mirio gripped his dick a little harder, and you squirmed and relished the first orgasm someone had provided you. Tamaki sat on his knees and wiped his mouth as he admired how wrecked you looked. Your hair was spread in a million directions, and your tank top was ridden up so he could see your belly as it rose and fell. Your skirt was flipped up, and your panties hung off one of your knees. Even your socks seemed to be slipping if your body as your boyfriend devoured the sight of you.

He had watched many a dirty movie, but nothing compared to how sexy you looked right now. Sweating, shaking, and your face was completely red.

Tamaki was doing much better. He, too, was out of breath and slightly damp, but most noticeable was his cock dancing and straining against his navy blue briefs.

“Aww baby, that looks like it hurts,” you reached for his waistband and tugged him so you were both sitting on the bed, “why don’t we take care of you.” You sat his back against the wall and almost tore his boxers off him. You stood up and pulled your camisole over your head, and brandished it to the side. You gave him a smile as his eyes locked onto your breasts. You saw him swallow and, for the show, fanned himself like a lady at church with his hand.

Boldly, you pulled the zipper of your skirt down and let the green pleats free fall, and you stepped out of it. Despite being buried in your pussy just a minute before, the sight of you completely naked and on display for him was golden. His cock stood at attention, painfully awaiting you.

You climbed back onto your boyfriend's and kissed him sweetly to reassure him. His confidence broke briefly as he awaited your insight.

“Here, hold onto my hips.” You place your hand over his and guide them to the fat of your hips. You rose slowly on your knees and used your right hand to guide his cock to your awaiting pussy. You paused right as you made contact.

“Fuck! I forgot condoms!” You put your forehead on his collarbones in defeat.

“That’s okay, baby,” he secured a hand on the small of your back and leaned the two of you forward. He slowly opened the drawer and pulled out a box of condoms, pulling out the roll and ripping one off.

“How did you?”

“After that night, I went out and bought some. I-I had to call Mirio for help.” He admitted, ashamed.

“Aww, baby.” Mirio stopped his hand as he smiled at the memory. It was nine at night when he got the call. It took ten minutes to calm down a very overwhelmed Tamaki and explain that most of the scented or rubbed condoms were not a good choice and that he should go with latex unless he knew you were allergic to latex. You weren’t, so he got some pretty generic-looking lubricated condoms with a little doctor-recommended check. He didn’t make eye contact with the cashier; he only handed her enough cash to pay and grabbed the box before she could give him change.

You both settled back into position and he ripped the foil open with his teeth. Your knees buckled a little at the sight and you helped guide the condom down his dick. As you slid him down your folds you paused right at your pussy and looked in his eyes.

“Mhmmm,” he managed to grit out, and you slowly sunk his head in. Both of you seemed to moan and were keen on the contact. Your hands flew up to grip his shoulders, and he sunk into the small of your waist. Mirio gripped his cock reignited by the double loss of virginity. Slowly you eased down his cock and experimentally brought yourself up and down once. You shuddered in his lap.

Tamaki slid his hands down your waist to your hips, and you picked up the pace, bouncing up and down his lap with more confidence. With his help, you rode him with a passionate curiosity.

Mirio picked up the pace as you two seemed to find a groove. The purple-ette enjoying the sight of you taking him for his pleasure and the satisfying squelch of your pussy around him. Every lift and drop of your hips forces his eyes to shut a little, but every time, he forces them back open to allow himself to soak you in.

You’re not doing much better. Already sensitive from cumming minutes earlier, the excitement of finally getting to fuck Tamaki swirled into a greater pleasure than you could imagine. Unfortunately, it was interrupted by the ghost of cowgirls.

“Ow ow ow!” You settled your hips

“What? What is it, baby?” He clamped his hand on the side of your face.

“Foot cramp.” You shook it and winced

“D-do you wanna switch?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, and he kept his hold on the side of your face but gave you a gentle peck. Then he slid his hands under your legs and picked you, only to slam you down on the mattress. You bounced and laughed as you held his face for another kiss. You tucked some stray hair out of his face as he guided himself back into your sweet, warm pussy.

You made eye contact as a slight gasp slipped from your mouth. Tamaki leaned over you and placed your arms around his neck. He placed both hands by your ears and started up a slow and gentle pace. Before he realized your eyes were going the same rolling back/ force open pattern.

From this position Amajiki was hitting all the best angles. Mirio thought he was spoiled for getting the pleasure of witnessing this. Every grunt and every sigh even the squeak of the mattress beneath Tamaki’s knees was only fuel for his fist. He brought his hand up to his mouth so he could collect a weight bead of spit which he spread over his throbbing cock. He could feel his balls keening with the need to release but he was trying to time it with the movie he was witnessing.

On your side of the wall was bliss. You kept your arms around his neck but still wove your fingers through the thick hair at his nape. When you gave a particularly strong tug Tamaki crooned into you touch. He moaned a little harder as you tugged on him.

“D’yo like that, Ama?”

“Y-yes,” he managed to plead.

“Y’want me to do it again?”

“Yes-fuck, please!” You were shocked to hear your typically formal boyfriend swear at you. It was hot, so you pulled harder in his gorgeous silky hair. You only pulled more erotic sounds out of his lips, which were coated in a thin layer of saliva from chewing on them.

“Fuck again! I-I’m gonna cum!”

“T-Tama!” You nearly started laughing in surprise at his foul mouth. But the obsessive rhythm of his hips was bringing you closer to the edge again. “Just keep going. I’m ughh,” you groaned against your will as he teased your G-spot.

“Deeper Tama!” You begged. He grabbed each of your ankles at your request and brought them up by his ears. He leaned down on you and landed a searing kiss on your forehead and then brought his pace a little faster, lingering at the depression of his thrust.

“Ahh, right there! Please don’t stop!” But he was sputtering out from exhaustion and being on the precipice of an orgasm

“I can’t- I’m not gonna!” He sounded absolutely pathetic

“It’s fine, baby. Just keep going.”

“Do you want me to pull out?”

“Why would you wear a condom? Inside please” At that, any scrap of reserve fell away as he pounded into you, desperate to cum.

“(Y/n)! Uh, I’m gonna!” He parked his hips deep in your pussy as he came with a whimper. Your eyes rolled so far back that he was nervous; they might not return. As he came to, he felt like he was strangled by your pussy, clamping down and spasming around his cock. You raked your hands down Amajiki's back, desperate to cling onto something for fear you might float away.

If he were to look back on it, Mirio would say that the noises you made as you came sent him hurtling over the edge. In a split-second decision, he permeated his other hand through the wall to bite so he could damper his sounds. He shuddered, and his ear rang after he came. A nasty white matter on the wall was evidence of his Tom peeping.

He pulled himself back through to his room to assess the damage. He would need to change his sweatpants because of a big precum stain on the grey fabric. He laughed at himself and how live-action porn got him so riled up.

“Oh jeez,” he put his clean hand on his forehead. Directly after he had hidden the evidence, a pounding at his door nearly scared him out of his skin.

“Miri! Togata! Why is your door locked?” He zipped over to his door, unlocked it, and gave his girlfriend a kiss on the forehead as she sunk into his chest.

“Long day, baby?” He similarly caged her in

“So long,” she whined

“You want to hear something that will cheer you up?” He pulled back so he could look at her adorable little face

“Always,”

“They finally did it.” He admitted with a downward smile

“YOU SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!” She leaped back, accidentally activating her quirk

“Yeah, I heard it all.” He smirked proudly. “You wanna go over and bust them?”

“Yeah!” She cheered sharing similar smirks and penchants for mischief. Mirio threw on a t-shirt and they crept next door. Stupidly the couple had forgone locking the door. The two bust through the door to reveal what could have been a sweet wholesome moment.

(Y/n) had her head laid on Tamaki’s chest and Tamaki had an arm over her shoulder and was stroking up and down with his finger tips. But as the couple blew threw Tamaki’s door sending the couple flying up and out of their sheets.

(Y/n) grabbed the nearest blanket and held it to her chest to conserve some of her modesty.

“What are you doing get out!” You screeched in embarrassment while poor Tamaki cowered, mortified.

“Ok ok,” Mirio backed out in surrender “did you kids have fun?”

“Out!’l you hollered. The incident did not stop you by any means from continuing your fun. You just remembered to lock the doors. But no padlock could keep out your neighbor of a peeping tom.

[written-in-flowers]

Traditions and Expectations: Pt. 1

Pairing: Aegon II x SisterWife!Reader

Genre: fluff, smut, slice of life

Word Count: 7k

Summary: It is Targaryen tradition for brother to wed sister, as you'd done with Aegon. But with no eligible son for your daughter, you've had to look elsewhere for a betrothal. The question is whether to abide by Targaryen traditions or allow your child to follow her heart?

Tags: chubby!aegon, domestic life, arranged marriages, canon-typical incest, brother-sister marriage, mother/daughter themes, family expectations, hubby/wifey stuff, smut, vaginal fingering, breast play, nipple play, multiple positions.

Tagged: @lovelykhaleesiii

***

Your mother decided you'd be Aegon's wife on your fourteenth nameday. It is customary in Valyrian tradition for the eldest son to marry his eldest sister. As Targaryens, one of the last families who escaped Valyria's downfall, you followed this tradition despite societal and religious norms in Westeros. You being the eldest daughter and Aegon being the eldest son, the betrothal was set and you'd be married when you both reached maturity. Your entire life people  knew you'd marry Aegon. It was simply a fact you'd known growing up. 

But, unlike your mother, you will not have it as easy.

You sat in the cushioned chair on your veranda which overlooked the small courtyard outside Maegor's Holdfast, and pondered on marriage. Down below, your eldest child, Daella, practiced her archery skills on targets in the training yard. Thirteen with cascading lengths of silver hair, Daella had beauty, brains and brawn. She stood tall and slender, a petite waist cinched by a leather belt. She is the epitome of beauty, but also strong and bold. It did not matter how many times you scolded her for wrestling with the stableboys and firing off arrows, Daella still did it. It got to a point that you gave into her adventurous nature, letting her ride off on hunts with her grandfather and uncle and take up archery. 

You watched her taking out arrows from her cloth target, and wondered if her husband will let these passions flourish. Many Westerosi men dislike women who take on "men's sports' '. To them, ladies of noble status should stick to dancing and reading poetry, not participating in archery challenges and learning how to skin animals after a kill. Having a bride who can out-ride and out-shoot them might displease them, therefore ruining any chance of a betrothal. Were your eldest son, Baelon, born first and Daella second, they'd be undoubtedly matched. But Daella is much older than Baelon, who is your third child. Vaelen, your second boy and fourth child, is not a suitable match either. You and your mother concluded that Saera, your second child, would marry Baelon. Vaelen will likely marry the baby in your belly, or another noblewoman. 

This means you need to find a husband for Daella. Most noble marriages are political ones, so naturally you'd want a lord that is close to The Crown and doesn't mind marrying a dragonrider. On the table beside you, you looked at the four scrolls you'd received today. You'd spent ages pouring over the different noble houses in Westeros, searching in vain for a husband that would please your daughter. She wouldn't marry just anyone. You told your mother you wanted Daella to have a happy marriage. You wanted her to experience the love and warmth you often felt with Aegon. In the end, it came down to four possible suitors.

Fourteen-year-old Tymond Lannister was a nephew of Lord Tyland, current Master of Coin. Lord Tyland told you all about his handsome nephew who could wield a sword, battle ax and morningstar. A boy like him, he said, could handle the fiery Daella. His father, Lord Jason, agreed to a possible marriage between his son and Daella. It would benefit both parties: The Lannisters are one of the wealthiest families in Westeros. Having them tied by marriage will ensure the wealth of the kingdom stays intact. 

Twelve-year-old Osric Arryn is the younger cousin of Lady Jeyne Arryn. You heard about his jovial and tender hearted nature from people around him. A husband with a soft heart but a firm hand might intrigue Daella. Lady Jeyne’s reply alluded to them coming to terms over her dowry. Another good match for Daella and the family. The Arryns have a large army as well as The Eyrie, an impenetrable fortress. She will be well protected and cared for there, which mattered to you greatly. 

Thirteen-year-old Edmure Tully is the auburn haired, freckled, strong man you thought Daella may like. You'd seen the boy once at a tourney, standing much taller than most his age with a man's body starting to grow. Being her age, she might relate to him better. His father, Lord Grover, told you while Edmure might seem hard on the outside, he had a heart of gold. A marriage pact with House Tully brings more security to them in the Riverlands. 

All three of them accepted. All three of them are good matches. Yet, it is not these that give you pause. It was the fourth scroll that still remained unopened. You saw the aquamarine seal with the Velayron seahorse stamped in the middle, and hesitated. It had been several years since you’d last seen your nephews, Jacaerys and Lucerys. Since then, Jace has become Heir to the Iron Throne and Prince of Dragonstone, married to Baela Targaryen. Luke lives on Driftmark alongside Lord Corlys, his grandfather, and his bride-to-be, Rhaena Targaryen. 

It cannot be Luke who has reached out to you. You’d recalled hearing about Jace and Baela having children of their own. Admittedly, you couldn’t get the children’s names straight but you knew they had a boy and two twin girls. You picked up the unopened scroll, and rolled it between your fingers. Glancing back into the yard, Daella had switched from archery to axe-throwing. Ser Criston told you she’d become intrigued by it after seeing a man doing it at a tourney for your wedding anniversary. You only asked her to use the smaller ones to avoid injuries. Jace and Baela’s son must be her age. Your father received the news around the time you’d given birth to Daella. But, you might have that information wrong. 

“Ah, there you are, my love.”

Aegon appeared from behind you, hands behind his back and a grin on his face. He gave you a soft peck on the cheek, and took the chair opposite you. A maid served him a cup of wine, which he drank from right away. You continued staring at the scroll in your hand, afraid to open it. You know what will be written inside. No doubt it was your sister, Rhaenyra’s, idea. A part of you considered the idea since Rhaenyra will one day be queen, and with Prince Daemon at her side, your entire family may be at risk. 

“How are the children?” he asked you, looking down into the yard where his sons trained with Ser Criston. 

“Fine. Daella’s aim is improving impressively,” you answered absentmindedly, not fully focused on him. 

“Hm,” he nodded, “Vaelen’s swing is improving as well. I know he mopes about his sword training, but I told him it’s important for the sword to be as sharp as the mind.” 

“Aegon.”

“Wife?”

“Jacaerys…He has a son, doesn’t he? I remember Father mentioning it once or twice before.”

“He does,” he said cautiously, holding a cheese cube in his hand. “I believe his name is…Gods, what is it?” he racked his brain for a moment, then said, “Aerys? Aenys? I don’t remember exactly. It starts with an ‘Ae’. Why do you ask?”

“I received a raven from Baela this morning,” you told him. 

He popped the cube in his mouth, then actually looked over at you. Seeing the worry on your face, he asked, “And what does it say?” 

“I am not certain,” you said. “I haven’t opened it yet.”

He picked up the scroll from Lord Jason, read it, then said, “Marriage proposals?” 

“From Lannister, Arryn and Tully,” you told him. “They all agreed to make terms.”

“And that one is from Baela?”

“Yes,” you showed him the small paper with its seahorse seal. 

“You wrote to them?” he asked, bemused. 

“I had not. It came this morning with the others.” 

Aegon looked at you, then said, “Are you going to read it?”

“I can’t,” you said, shooting out your hand to him, “You read it.”

“Darling, I do not see what the harm is in reading a letter,” he chuckled. Aegon took the scroll from you, and broke the seal. Your stomach churned when he read the first word, “Dear Princess YN, I hope this letter finds you and your family well. My sister, Rhaena, informed me that you and Aegon are making plans for a marriage pact for your daughter, Daella. As you know, Jacaerys and I have a boy who is her age named Aeron-Ah, yes, that’s the boy’s name!-” Aegon snapped his fingers with a satisfied smile, “I propose a marriage between our two houses. I understand the relationship between our families has been detached for several years. But, I have very fond memories of our youth, and I hope with this union we can begin to repair that breakage between us. My lord husband and I will be arriving in King’s Landing in a fortnight for Prince Baelon’s birthday tourney-Who told them about it? Did you?”

“Certainly not. It must’ve been Father or Rhaenyra.”

“Hm, I suspect as much. ‘I will be more than happy to discuss possible terms with you then. I eagerly await your response. Signed, Baela.’ Hmpf, how informal of her.”

‘Memories of our youth’. What memories? When Luke cut out your younger brother’s eye and never received punishment? When Luke and Jace teased Aemond for not having his own dragon? All the numerous times that your father favored Rhaenyra and any of her offspring over you and your siblings? You’d gone your entire life being told that when Rhaenyra ascended the throne, your family was a challenge to her rule. The eldest of Viserys’s children from his first wife, he’d proclaimed Rhaenyra his heir. When Aegon was born, he should’ve immediately been named heir to the throne, but he wasn’t. Now, Aegon showed no interest in being king and never mentioned a desire for it. But, with her husband Prince Daemon in her ear, Rhaenyra might feel threatened by Aegon and his four children. 

Your children. 

Not only your children, but your sister, Helaena, and brother, Aemond, too. Their children, twins Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, young Maelor, and baby Rhaenor.

Your uncle and Rhaenyra’s husband, Prince Daemon, is not well known for his kindness. 

“What is your decision, love?” Aegon asked you, putting the letter with the others. “Marry our daring Daella to one of these lords or the unremarkable son of Jacaerys Velaryon?”

You looked out to the yard once more. Daella stomped her foot in frustration as her axe missed the target completely. A picture of Daella meeting Aeron and finding him insufferable came to mind. Your daughter got along well with most girls and boys she met, being sociable and charming to everyone. But, when she did not like someone, she made it very obvious. Sometimes too obvious. What if she met Aeron and disliked him? On the other hand, what if she didn’t? It’d be ideal for everyone involved. It is the most obvious choice. Everyone will say so. So, why were you so hesitant to say ‘yes’?

“I want her to be happy, Aegon,” you told him softly. “I want her to find love and happiness as we have. I don’t want her shackled to a man she isn’t at least fond of; having children out of duty instead of desire.”

“I am afraid, my dearest,” he took your hand gently in his, “That our union is incredibly rare in this family.”

“That’s not true,” you replied, finding comfort in his touch, “There is Aemond and Helaena as well.” 

“Alright, then somewhat rare.” 

“Mother, Mother!” 

A voice caught your attention from behind and you turned to see Saera appear. In a dress of cream and gold, she reminded you of princesses in fairytales. Her silver curls tied into a simple plait down her back, her violet eyes struck most people immediately. So much like her father’s, but he insisted she resembled you. Saera, eleven years old, came rushing up to your husband, and sitting in his lap. She beamed at you as she spoke. 

“I had my dress fitting for Baelon’s nameday,” she said. “Grandmother helped me pick out the colors for it.”

“Oh, was that today, love?” you asked her, slightly disappointed. You looked over your shoulder to see your mother walking in after her, in a gown of emerald green and black. Her signature Hightower color. “Mother, why did you not say anything?”

“You had more important matters at hand,” she answered, kissing the top of your head before taking up a wine cup. She spotted the letters on the table. “Any agreements?”

“They all accepted,” you told her. “There is one that has surprised me, however.”

“Oh? Who?”

You handed her the letter, “Baela Velaryon. She and Jace have a son Daella’s age.”

“Is Daella getting married?” asked Saera, who took up a bread with strawberry preserves on it.

“Not yet,” Aegon told her, playfully taking a bite of her bread to which she whined. “But, your sister is of age for betrothal and your mother has insisted we decide this very second who it will be.”

“It does not need to be ‘this very second’,” you replied. “I have received responses from Lords Lannister and Tully, as well as Lady Arryn. Any of their sons would make a suitable match for Daella, and their alliance could benefit our house. But then, I received Baela’s proposal.”

“And it gives you Pause.”

“It does.”

“Why, Mother?” asked Saera, smearing jam around her mouth as she finished her bread.

“It is complicated to explain, dove,” you told her kindly. “You’ll understand when you are older.”

“Saera, love,” Aegon said, lifting her from his lap, “Why don’t you go with Dyana to see your cousins, hm? I’m sure Jaehaera would love to see your doll collection.”

“Why can’t I stay?” she moped, getting off his lap but not leaving. “I want to know who Daella’s going to marry.”

“You’ll hear about it when we’ve made a decision, alright?” he promised, kissing her forehead. “Now, go. Dyana…”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Saera reluctantly left with the maid, and left the three of you alone. “Father will approve of the match highly,” you told her, returning to the conversation at hand, “And so will Rhaenyra. I bet anything this was all her doing.”

You thought about your elder half-sister. Rhaenyra was the daughter of Gemma Arryn, your father’s first wife. When she passed, King Viserys assumed he’d never remarry or have more children, so he named Rhaenyra heir to the throne. But then, he wedded your mother, Alicent Hightower. Any sensible king would’ve saved everyone the headache and named Aegon heir, but not your father. He valued Rhaenyra and her bastard sons more than any of his other children. He’d never do or say anything against her, no matter how severe the crime. You bitterly remember the night Aemond lost his eye in a fight with Jace, Luke, Baela and Rhaena. Your father should’ve demanded an eye for an eye or at least a serious punishment be dealt. But no. He told them to apologize and leave it at that. He’d never do anything to upset his precious Rhaenyra. It’d broken your heart when you visited your father’s sick bed, hoping to read to him, and in a medicated haze he’d called you ‘Rhaenyra’. When she had Jace, Luke and Joffrey, it became obvious they are not true Velaryons. They did not have the skin or hair of their father, Lord Laenor, but instead the coloring of Ser Harwin Strong. Commander of the City Watch.

This only soured the relationship between your families.

That resentment in you did not want your eldest daughter, your first born child, married to Rhaenyra’s grandson. Yet, the looming threat of Prince Daemon crossed your mind. If his grandson married your daughter, Rhaenyra will no doubt cherish any children they have.

“Princess Rhaenyra means well,” your mother said, taking Aegon’s seat when he offered it to her. “She will be our queen one day, whether we wish for it or not. I do not need to remind you that Prince Daemon-”

“-I know, Mother,” you cut her off, not wanting to hear it out loud. “Rhaenyra…She is quite lovely to the children…”

“She adores them,” she agreed. She paused for a moment, “She put forward the coin for Saera’s and Daella’s nameday gowns.”

“What?” This caught both you and Aegon off guard.

“She has?” asked Aegon.

“She has,” she nodded. “She said princesses of the realm should always be dressed in fine splendor.” She looked between the both of you, then back to you, “YN, listen to me. Do not make the mistakes I have made when it comes to your children-”

“-Mother, you’ve never-”

“-I have,” she insisted. “Don’t pass down whatever grievances you have with Rhaenyra’s family to your children. They’re young. They should be playing and growing alongside their cousins, not being separated from them. A marriage between Aeron and Daella might work out for everyone.” When she saw you and Aegon unconvinced, she said, “Besides, it is tradition. The King will insist upon it should Rhaenyra bring it up.”

You wondered where this advice came from. During your girlhood, your mother constantly grumbled about ‘Rhaenyra’s sons’ and their baseborn features. It’d been her who often questioned their birth in private. Yet, since Rhaenyra’s return to King’s Landing, you noticed the pair becoming much closer these days. You’d spotted them walking in the gardens, sharing meals together, and working together to better the kingdom. You wondered what transpired to bring about this forgiveness and unity. Perhaps you can do the same. You gingerly accepted back Baela’s letter, and thought on it more. Baelon’s tenth nameday celebration would be in two weeks. You had plenty of time to think over your answer.

“Invite them all,” Aegon declared, picking at more cheese on the table.

“Invite who?”

“Lannister, Arryn, Tully, and Velaryon,” he said. “Daella can meet all their sons and see if she likes any of them.” Neither you or your mother said anything, he went on, “You said you wanted Daella to find love and happiness. She can only do that if she’s given multiple options instead of one. You’ve always been the romantic one out of us, and what is more romantic than finding love at a tourney?”

“Aegon…”

“YN, you know Daella. If we tell her to go left, she goes right. If we tell her the sky is blue, she’ll tell us it’s green,” he continued. “If we happen to invite all these suitors, she might take to one of them on her own.”

“She’ll suspect something.”

“She won’t if we all keep it to ourselves,” he responded with a smirk. You sometimes forget your husband’s cunning nature. 

“Aegon has a point,” your mother told you. “Invite them all and we will see if she takes to any of them.” 

You mulled it over in your mind, then nodded, “Yes. That seems the best route for this.”

“Ah! You fool, that hurt! Father!”

Vaelen’s contemptuous voice came from down below, and you saw your youngest sprawled on the ground at his brother’s feet.

“Well, get up and hit him, Vaelen,” Aegon called back.

“I’m tired!”

“Your opponent isn’t going to care,” he said. He grunted and put down his wine cup. “Time for me to intervene,” he looked over at you, “Write to them and personally invite them. Have the seamstress make her a special gown, and the jeweler can fashion a tiara for her. Something golden with rubies. Maybe sapphires or emeralds to stand out-”

“-I will see it is done, Husband,” you laughed, “Go see to your sons.”

He kissed you one more time before going down to the yard. Aegon lifted Vaelen to his feet, handing his sparring sword back to him, and spoke to Ser Criston. 

You spotted Daella standing with Aemond, who was helping her pick out a selection of knives instead of axes. Aegon was right. A strong-willed girl like Daella won’t accept a marriage pact because she’s told to do so. If you wanted her to have a happy marriage, she’d need to find it on her own.

“I know you don’t like to admit it,” your mother began, drinking from her wine cup, “But Aegon is right.”

“Mother, how did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Decide Aegon and I would be right for one another. At any point during our childhood, you could have decided to not marry us, but you did.”

Your mother stared at you for a moment, then she confessed. “I did not decide right away,” she told you. Seeing your raised eyebrows, she nodded, “Yes, that is a myth. I told your father I wanted to wait before announcing your betrothal. It’s a Valyrian tradition to wed brother to sister, so it made the most sense. But looking back on my own marriage and marriages of those around me, I was hesitant on my decision. I didn’t want my daughter to suffer a loveless marriage, never knowing true companionship or romance. I worried you might end the same way as I did with Aegon.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Aegon used to bawl his eyes out whenever we took you into another room. Your wet nurse would set you on the ground, and you’d immediately crawl over to him. As you grew, I saw how you behaved around one another. You enjoyed each other’s company over people at court. You spent nearly every waking moment together and refused to be apart for more than a few hours.” She smiled softly, looking out into the yard, “One day, I sat up here with your father while your brothers trained in the yard. You came out with Helaena, and you stood right there,” she nodded to an open spot that overlooked the yard, “And watched him. You didn’t say anything, or make yourself known to him. You simply watched him with this soft smile on your face, full of complete content.”

You nodded, vaguely remembering a day similar to that. “Then he noticed me there,” you finished for her. 

“And the smile that you both shared,” she grinned, “Made up my decision. You stared at one another, fondness and love in your eyes. He then said, ‘Princess, my opponent begs for mercy. I shall make it your decision to spare him or deny him.’”

“And then I said to show him no mercy,” you laughed, remembering a young Aegon, long-haired and skinny, standing where Baelon did now. 

“Aegon would do anything you asked of him,” she said. “Daella will find a similar love one day. Whether it be with one of the suitors or someone else entirely, she will have it.” 

“Mother, did you see that?!” Daella’s voice called from the yard, beaming at you excitedly. “I hit the center! Look!”

You saw the thin blade stuck halfway into the target, and smiled at her, “Wonderful, darling. You’ll be an expert with your uncle’s instruction.” 

She went back to her knife throwing, and you put aside any thought of arranged marriages and family feuds for the moment. You did have a nameday to plan, and invitations to send out. 

“What does Saera’s gown look like?” 

****

Knights, hedge knights, sellswords, and lords came from all over to attend Prince Baelon’s nameday tournament. You spent days planning feasts and gatherings that will happen throughout the week. Not only did each day have its own competition and accompanying feast, but the final celebration included performances by singers and mummers, magicians and animal performers, and several courses. You told the small council you’d spare no expense for your son’s tenth nameday. It would be a nameday to rival them all. 

Yet, while handling all these duties with your pregnant belly, the thought of Daella’s marriage proposals loomed over your head. Neither you or Aegon brought up the subject around her, but she seemed to suspect a plot nevertheless.

“Lord Tyland visited the training yard this morning. He complimented my knife throwing skills,” she said to you at dinner the night before the tourney, “He said he couldn’t wait for me to meet his nephew, Tymond.”

“Well, he is very fond of his nephew, Daella,” your husband said first. “He talks about him as if he is the boy’s father. Perhaps he is hoping you two will meet and get along.”

“I wonder why he might have that idea,” she looked pointedly at you, “Mother?”

“The Lannisters have always been an ambitious family,” you told her. “Lord Tyland most likely hopes you will meet his nephew and grow fond of him. You are a Princess, after all. The King’s granddaughter and Prince Aegon’s daughter. Maybe he hopes a Lannister-Targaryen marriage would bring his family great fortune. Do not think anything of it, love.” 

“Mother, I am fully aware that I have flowered now and am of marrying age,” she said to you. 

“What does ‘flowered’ mean?” asked Baelon, chewing on string beans. 

“It means she’s a woman,” said Vaelen. “I read it in a book.”

“Boys,” Aegon hushed them. “Yes, darling, you have flowered and are of marrying age, but your mother and I don’t plan to marry you for a long time. I recall telling you never to grow up so then you’d never marry and leave me, but,” he shrugged, drinking his wine, “Here we are.”

“You may have flowered, but you are still too young for marriage in my book,” you added. 

“Not too young to make arrangements for me, though,” she retorted, cutting into a slice of beef and eating it. “Whoever he is, I won’t marry him.”

“Whoever who is?”

“Whoever you’ve both chosen for me,” she said. “I won’t do it. I don’t want to get married.”

“You are a princess of the realm,” you responded, “Marriages not only help politically but also continue our bloodlines and names. It is your duty as a princess and a Targaryen to marry to protect and continue-”

“-I don’t want to,” she snapped. “I won’t go through with it. I don’t want to get married to some stupid lordling who can’t find his backside with both hands.” 

“No woman does,” you told her, “But as women of the realm-”

“-Surely there is more to being a ‘woman of the realm’ than marrying and having babies,” she remarked. “Why must we be stuck in this one role in life when there is so much more we can offer? Look at all women throughout history. Princess Visenya. Princess Rhaenya. Nymeria of Dorne. Look at Nana. Look at Aunt Rhaenyra. They’re both on the King’s council and have his ear. They’ve contributed more to the world than having babies.”

“Nana only became the queen because she married the king,” you said. “Rhaenyra may be the heir, but she married Ser Laenor and had children of her own. All the women you named married and had children to continue their legacy. How can you expect to continue a legacy without marriage or children of your own? Do you plan to live forever?”

“I won’t get married,” Daella repeated, having no real answer to your question. 

“You will,” Aegon said more firmly, “We all have our part to play in this world and yours will be to marry.”

“No.”

“Yes.” 

“No.”

“Daella,” he groaned, “You are a princess. Some would say you’re born for this.”

“Was I now? I thought I was born because you and Mother wanted children; not because you must have them.”

“We did want to have you,” you implored her, “But it was also expected that we would. Daella, we’re not doing this to upset or hurt you. It is what every princess does: I did it. Helaena did it. Your sister will do it after you.”

“I don’t care who has done it before me,” she said, no longer focused on her meal. She stood up suddenly, “You can’t make me.”

“Daella…”

She spun around and left the hall. You leaned back in your chair, feeling dejected and defeated. Your eyes met Aegon’s. 

“Will I have to get married one day, Mother?” Saera asked you, pushing her vegetables around on her plate. 

“No,” Aegon said, “Because you vowed you’d never grow up and leave me. A Targaryen must keep to their word.” 

He tickled her side and the mood in the room lifted. Yet, Daella’s forceful words stuck with you. You knew she’d never take kindly to the idea of marriage. Your daughter is a free spirit, a bird that wishes to fly untethered to any solid thing. A part of you felt guilty tying that bird down, but it did not need to be so. Aegon’s warm hand taking up yours caught your attention. You met his eyes, and saw the softness in them. 

“I will speak with her,” he said, moving to stand. 

“No, no,” you shook your head, standing up before him. “I will speak to her. This is a woman’s conversation, Aegon.”

He conceded, nodding and returning to your other children. You bent to kiss him, then left the hall towards Daella’s bed chambers. Rays of moonlight still shone between the pillars coming from the open courtyard, a cool breeze coming in from the city. This did nothing to distract you from your worries. Daella seemed to believe marriage stood in the way of her future greatness. She needed to know that it is not so. As you reached her room, you heard the faint, melodic voice from behind the door. Singing. Daella’s light singing voice reached you and you smiled. With a gentle knock, you opened the door. 

“-I dream of fair maids of summer, with flowers in their hair-” you heard her sing quietly at her vanity, brushing a comb through her silver curls. 

“-I dream of maids of winter, with snow in the air,” you sang after her, walking into the room with a disarming grin. 

Her eyes found yours in the mirror, and her face soured. She stopped singing at once, pretending to be focused on her hair. You shut the door and approached her. Neither of you said anything as you took the brush from her, and began undoing her braids for her. Her curls went through your fingers like silk, shining in the faint candlelight glow. 

“A bard sang that song on my wedding day, you know,” you told her, starting to gently run the comb down her hair. “It’s where I first heard it. I loved it so much, I asked him to sing it a second time. I thought it was such a beautiful song-”

“-I don’t want to get married.”

“As you’ve stated previously,” you nodded. “If you do not wish to be married, love, then what do you want?” 

Daella did not speak right away. You saw the desire to speak plainly inside her, wishing to pour herself out to you. Though, the fear of being rejected or dismissed in favor of your own wishes disagreed with this. “You can tell me,” you assured her, looking at her in the mirror. 

“I want to travel, Mother,” she told you, imploringly. “I want to see the world; go across the Narrow Sea and see the Free Cities and meet different people, and see different cultures. I want to go about the realm on my dragon, seeing my grandfather’s kingdom and meeting his subjects. You and Father used to go into the city all the time-”

“-Yes, but we still married,” you interjected. “My love, you do not have to choose one life or the other. Being married…” you took a breath, pausing your brushing to think. You never imagined having this conversation. You merely accepted your cards when your mother dealt them. “Being married isn’t being tied down to one place. It is not a prison sentence. It’s having a companion. It’s having someone to share those dreams with. You can still have a full and rich life whilst having that other person. Look at your father and I, we betrothed and still saw wonders together.”

“The Street of Silk is not a worldly wonder, Mother,” she drawled. 

You tapped her shoulder sharply, “I meant the times that we went dragon riding together.”

“Where did you go?”

“Everywhere,” you answered. “We went as far as The Wall once. I told your father I wanted to see the world, and he promised me we would. Yes, we still visit our old stomping grounds from time to time, but that is nothing compared to our progress around the realm.” 

“You? You and Father went on a progress together?” she looked back at you in disbelief. 

“It’s originally been your grandmother’s idea,” you’d finished brushing her hair, but did not stop. You fondly remembered you and Aegon seeing the different castles and meeting the lords and ladies of the land. “Your father disliked the idea since courtly duties bore him to tears, but I told him it could be fun. We’d meet different people, and see new things. We went to The Wall to meet the Night’s Watch. We saw Winterfell and the big heart tree there. We went to the Maidenpool, and saw The God’s Eye from a distance. We visited The Twins. It was lovely. 

You finally stopped brushing and told her, “Being married does not mean you’ll be forced to stay in one place. You’ll have someone else to share those new experiences with and grow together from them. It’ll bring you closer to them.”

“I doubt it,” she scoffed. “You’ll marry me off to some insipid little lordling who will insist on keeping me locked in a castle, having his babies and running his household for him.”

“No,” you replied. “I planned on marrying you to a man of your choosing.”

This information caught your daughter off guard. “You did?”

“I did,” you nodded. “At first, I will admit I sent out propositions to certain lords and ladies who have sons your age, but I’d intended for you to pick at your own leisure. You are not as fortunate as other Targaryen women to have ready-made brother-husbands,” you lamented, “But I hope you may find happiness like I did with your father. As with songs, I cannot pick that for you. You must choose whether you like them or not. 

“Your brother’s nameday celebration will be a good chance to not only find a possible match, but perhaps make friends and allies outside of King’s Landing. Lord Beesburry has a granddaughter who also enjoys songs and dancing, and Lord Rosby has two who are fond of horses like you.” You put your hands on her shoulders, and said, “Do not worry about marriage for now, my love. Go to the tourney, seek out happy nights and enjoy your youth as I did.”

She smiled at you, the expression reminding you of your Aegon. “Thank you, Mother.”

You kissed her cheek and hugged her from behind, smelling the lavender in her hair. You left her to finish preparing for bed, and walked alone to your own chambers. Taking a seat at the vanity, you stared at yourself in the mirror while undoing your hair. You and Aegon took your progress right after your wedding. You’d never left home before, and you’d always wanted to see the world beyond King’s Landing. The promise of adventure and excitement encouraged you to take the leap into the unknown. Flying Moonfyre with his Sunfyre nearby, you felt like you could take on the world. 

“How is she?” Aegon walked into your chambers, finding you by the vanity. 

“Better than before,” you told him. “I explained to her that marriage isn’t the end of your life. You can still enjoy it while being with another person.”

He snorted, “Forgive me, my love, but I’m afraid not many lords would agree with you.”

You put down your brush and leaned on your elbows on the table. Head in your hands, you knew he was right. Adventure is not something lords think about unless they mean about themselves, while their wives stay home. “I suppose I can only pray then,” you decided, “That she finds what she wants.”

“It is the only thing we can pray for,” he said, coming up behind you and kissing your neck. “I sent the maids away for the night. Dyana and Myra are seeing the children to bed.”

You turned in your seat, smirking up at him, “Is that so? I wonder what reason you’d have to do such a thing. Myra needs to help me undress.”

His fingers ran up your back to the strings of your gown, “Undressing you should be my responsibility.” 

He cupped your chin to kiss you lightly, then gradually continued until your lips locked together. “And it’s the only responsibility you’ll readily agree to,” you teased, standing up and kissing him.

“That and the children.”

“And the children,” you agreed. 

Arms wrapping around you, you felt him deftly untying your dress, the cool night air brushing on the warm skin. You kissed him tenderly while undoing his belt, letting it fall to the ground. Unbuttoning the front of his jerkin, you slipped it from his shoulders to reveal the thin white undershirt. Aegon peeled off your gown down to your shift and bodice, which he undid with deft, swift fingers. That subtle heat you knew well started building in your lower stomach as he kissed down your neck to your collarbone; you felt up his arms to his shoulders, giving a light squeeze out of habit. 

Much like you, Aegon appeared to gain a few pounds himself, no longer the lanky boy he’d been in his youth. Not that you cared in the slightest. You ran your hands down his chest to his breeches, where you untucked his shirt and removed it. He pulled at your shift until you became bare in front of him; his hands pawed at your hips and backside while kissing you deeply. A soft moan filled your mouth as his tongue slid inside, you untied his breeches and tugged them down until they fell on their own. You reached down for his cock while he grabbed at your breasts, groaning softly at the hand wrapped around his shaft. Then, he started walking you backwards towards your bed.

Falling down onto the soft mattress, Aegon’s lust burned hotly. He left soft kisses along your throat to your breasts, which he grasped gently. You whimpered, feeling him take position above you, his semi-erect cock against your bare sex. His cock twitched in your hand in every stroke, and you felt him grow harder and harder. Aegon suckled your breasts, rolling his tongue around each one before giving a delicate suck. You whined at the tenderness just as much as the roughness. One hand still on your breast, the other slipped past your belly to your sex, which dampened at the anticipation of his touch. Two fingers started sliding up and down your slit, dancing over the folds while yours did so along his member. You moaned at the fingers dipping amongst them to your clitoris, where your pleasure spiked inside you. It throbbed against his fingers, a thing he noticed and responded with a roll around your clit. Aegon never failed to pleasure the most intimate parts of you; he knew exactly how to get the fires burning within you, stoking them like logs inside a hearth. He groaned against your skin, gradually bucking his hips into your hand. You repaid the act with tender squeezes from hilt to head, using beads of precum to slicken his length.

“It’s too bad you already have one in there,” he grunted, pecking across your breasts to flick his tongue over one of them. “I’d love to give you another right now.”

"It is a shame, truly," you replied in a laugh, free hand going up into his hair and tugging the wavy curls. This move brought him back to your lips, which immediately locked with yours. "I never say 'no' to you filling me; not since our wedding night, when you took me over and over again just to make sure it took root inside me."

"Well, everyone made such a big fuss over it," he smirked above you. "I thought I might as well be thorough."

He kissed you right as he slipped two fingers into your fluttering sex. You kept yourself spread out for him, grinding against his hand to get it deeper inside you. It reminded you of all the times you'd both scurried off together to dark corners of the castle, heat in your cheeks and hunger fueling your desires. You remembered your journey around Westeros following your wedding, and all the places you'd coupled throughout the kingdom. A majority of them started exactly like this. 

"Remember Maidenpool, love?" you asked, your thumb rubbing the underside of his tip. 

He smiled, "Do I? I recall it often." He kissed you, tongue flicking over your bottom lip before giving a tender tug. "When you pretended to be a maiden again, flustered and ready to be deflowered by me..." he stopped touching, and pushed your thighs further apart, kneeling up and away from you. Hands on your knees, he lifted them up slightly and said, "I don't believe I've fucked you as hard since then."

You then sneered at him, fingers trailing down his front to his cock again, "But, Your Grace," you pouted, "Shouldn't you be careful with me? I have never gotten this far with a man before."

Aegon let out a shaky moan, and plunged himself inside you suddenly. Your body took a moment to adjust, but as he started thrusting pleasure and desire bursted inside you. Grabbing your hips, Aegon kept you in place in each push. You could feel his exact length and girth stretching and filling you every time your bodies met. It became a sensation you enjoyed. 

"Your Grace," you whined, cupping your breasts to pinch your nipples, "Your Grace, please don't stop. Nobody's ever fucked me this way before. It feels so good."

He chuckled, violet eyes looking down at you in unfiltered lust, "Is that so? I find that hard to believe. A beauty like you has never had cock before?" he started pounding you faster, your breasts bouncing from the force and the sound adding to your grunts. "Not even an inch?"

"N-No, Your Grace," you replied. His tip started prodding your center, making you see stars as the orgasm slowly built inside. "No, never. Your cock's the only one I've-I've ever had." You started rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, keeping your breasts together with your arms so they continued bouncing. The light brush against your sensitive clit added to your pleasure. "Please, Your Grace, keep going. Don't stop. I want you to make me yours."

"Gladly."

He rolled you onto your front, face in the pillows, and entered you again. Aegon held onto your waist as you both met in the middle. The wet sound of his balls hitting your sex drive your passion further down. Just like in Maidenpool, and every time since, Aegon kept his strokes steady and deep. Hands reaching around to grasp your tits brought you up to a kneeling position, locking you close to him as he bottomed up into you. This new position made you see stars. Your sex tightened around him, your clit throbbed at his touch, and you didn't hold back your moans. The repeated, whispered phrase, 'Your Grace', amplified his arousal and you knew it considering his shaky breathing and low groans. 

Your orgasm came all at once, quaking your thighs and tightening your grip on Aegon's arms as he kept you firmly in place. It blinded you to everything around you; Aegon became the only real thing in the room. Normally, you kept your volume down to not disturb anyone, particularly your children, but not tonight. Not now. Not when Aegon's thick shaft and reddened tip brought you to the end of your climax. His own soon arrived, his cock slipping out with a wet pop, and hot streams spilling onto your inner thighs. Mouth pressed to your shoulder blade, you could feel the vibrations from his throat against you. You held him close until he'd finished, dick still twitching against your thighs. 

You both stayed in that position for several seconds, your warm bodies climbing down from the peak in every quivering breath. You collapsed onto the bed in exhaustion. The pregnancy made everyday tasks tiring, and sex only worsened the fatigue. Aegon's arms snaked around your waist as he brought you close to his chest and kissed your shoulder. You thought of the sticky substance sliding around your thighs, knowing you should wipe it away but not having the strength in your arms to do so. So, therefore, your husband did it for you, however lazily his ministrations. 

"Daella will be fine," he said, tossing the cloth aside. "She is a smart girl. She would never choose an empty-headed boy or a brute. If she happens to pick the Velaryon boy, well…accidents happen all the time.”

“Aegon,” you kicked him lightly and he laughed. 

“I only jest, my love,” he assured you, kissing your neck. 

“But, if she were to pick Jace’s boy?”

“If he makes her happy and treats her well, then I suppose I shall live with it.”

You shook your head in a laugh, intertwining your fingers with his to bring to your chest. Tiredness nearly drowned out the worries turning in your mind. Your childrens’ happiness is all you’ve ever cared about. This should not be any different. Daella will pick the right choice, and you’d side with whatever decision she made.

***

A/N: wow, it's been a while since I've written anything hotd. If you can't tell, this is part of my dad!aegon universe lol I hope you enjoyed this and give it a little reblog or a like.

[tw1l1te]

𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖘𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖔- 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖔

ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

“Oh, I like her already.” Wars speaks. The Vet just seems to roll his eyes, muttering something about the Captain’s ego.

You rise back into a standing position, eyeing the group again. You look back up at Time, stating, “I presume you’re the Hero of Time, based off of your moniker.”

“You would be correct, although hardly anyone calls me by that title.”

You hum at his comment, finding his humble nature pleasing. Turning to the one named Sky, you motion your hand at him, “And you must be the Hero of the Skies, or the Chosen One. The first of us, if we go by technicalities.”

He nods hesitantly, curious as to where you got all of this information about them. He would’ve been more uneasy if you weren’t a descendant, but you were one of them, after all.

“Why… do you call yourself the Forgotten Hero?” he asks.

You smile solemnly at him, “Because this era has been doomed. Utterly and completely in decay. By the time my quest is done, Hyrule, or what remains of it will collapse and rebuild itself over thousands of years. I will be too hidden in the past to be remembered.”

You take a small breath before continuing, admitting the truth out loud.

“I will also be forgotten because I’m not you, or your descendants. I’m not the traditional male hero. Quite the anomaly, aren’t I?”

He seems conflicted by your statement, eyebrows furrowing together.

“But if you’re the only female so far, wouldn’t that make you more memorable? The heroine of Hyrule?”

“Maybe in another life, but not this one. I’m considered a disgrace of a hero by most people outside of my village and a few others spanned across the land.”

“Why would you say that? Didn’t you save everyone from destruction?”

You smile sadly, “The destruction happened years before I was born. If anything, I caused more of it.”

He takes a moment to think before asking the inevitable question.

“Link… who exactly did you defeat?”

Your eyes snap back up at him, making sure he was looking right at you. The information you were about to reveal was going to create the rift of the ages. It was now or never.

“Hylia.”

~

The room was silent for a few minutes, the only sound being heard was the loud blizzard beyond the splintered walls of the shack. The loud silence made you wish the shack would finally collapse in on itself.

Sky finally speaks, eyes glued to you. 

“W-what do you mean by that? You’re saying she caused all of this?”

You sighed, knowing he was one of the more… innocent followers of her. 

“Well, a few thousand years after the Era of the Wilds, there started to be a lot of… religious issues surrounding Hylia. A lot of questionable and downright disgusting practices. It caused people to start grouping up and separating, causing the nations of Hyrule to close off from each other.”

Looking around the group, you take a moment to let them process the new information before continuing.

“The Rito, Zora, Gorons, Gerudo, Sheikah, and Hylians all started to conflict more and more, eventually ascending into a 50-year war, or the Reawakening. The followers of Hylia formulated a plan to resurrect her in the flesh, killing Zelda in the process.”

“A life for a life.” Time muttered, deep in thought.

“Exactly. The plan was successful, the goddess being reawoken after millennias of being dead. She came back… unrecognizable, both physically and in an ideological sense. Her morality and character had been altered so much to the point of her followers becoming a cult. The cult killed my parents, thousands of people that questioned Hylia, essentially wiping out most of the kingdom.”

“And the land? How did it come to be so… bleak?”

“Hylia is the Sun, both literally and metaphorically. The sun is technically up beyond the clouds, but the amount of destruction and chaos she brought forth made the landscape unrestorable. The entirety of Hyrule looks just like this,” you motioned out with your hand.

“Hyrule is also significantly bigger than any of yours. Probably still larger than if you were to combine the size of each of your era’s Hyrule’s. It has been a cold, snowy abyss for over 30 years now.”

The brunette piqued up, head tilting slightly, “So where is Hylia now? Hyrule Castle?”

You shake your head.

“Hyrule Castle is in utter ruins now, most use it to scavenge for rock or old weapons. I’m… not sure where she is right now, I'm trying to track her down.”

“Didn’t you say you killed her?” the Veteran asked.

“I did but… her psyche is still present. She may not have a physical body anymore, as I returned it back to its dormant state, permanently, but her essence is somewhere. Everywhere.”

Time walks up to you, arms crossed over his chest. Curse your short stature, compared to his at least.

“From what you're telling us, it seems that we were brought here to help you. We came here through a portal, and from what we’ve learned, we can’t leave an era unless we’ve completed the task at hand, regardless of our own opinions or standing on the matter.”

“What were your original plans before being brought here?” you ask.

“The Shadow and his army. It took us months to finally pin him down and defeat him.”

You remember something being mentioned in the archives about a dark version of Link, but only being a mere shadow. Now a physical form? That was something you didn’t experience in your own journey. Lucky you, you suppose.

“Right now Hyrule is… in limbo, I suppose. Hylia’s first form was defeated about a year ago and we’ve tried to track her essence down since. We don’t know if she’s using someone as a vessel or if she’s resting in some sacred grounds to gather strength. Granted, the blizzards have made it significantly harder to even make it past the woods.”

Four, one of the shortest and most colorful of the Link’s speaks.

“So where exactly are we, based off of older maps?”

You ponder for a moment, trying to recollect exactly what town you could use to reference the location you were in. Something that was familiar to them.

“If I were to use my ancestor’s typography maps,” pointing to Wild, “I’d say we’re in the location of the Great Plateau. The plateau collapsed in on itself thousands of years ago and grew thick forest and brush, impenetrable if you were inexperienced with the outside world.”

You take a pause before continuing.

“Though if I were to be more accurate and precise… this would be almost the exact location of Ordon Village from the Era of Twilight.”

Twilight perks up at that, intrigued by your expertise and knowledge of their past eras. 

“How do you know that name?”

“Ordon?”

He nods.

You were revealing way too much about yourself within hours of meeting your ancestors. This is definitely not what you had planned.

Sighing, you reveal another ability you had kept concealed.

“I have the memories of every hero before me. I can see and dream of their travels, their fears, desires, secrets, everything. Even their own thoughts, at times.”

Twilight’s brow furrows, confusion emulating off his features.

“Isn’t that only what the goddess reincarnated can do? How can a holder of the Triforce of Courage accomplish that?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that it started when I was seven and I have them almost every day, multiple times a day.”

Time bristles at the age it started for you: seven.

…

He was the youngest hero to start his journey.

Of course, it made sense.

The memories of the hero began as soon as his purpose was ignited.

He was going to speak again, but you beat him to it, mentioning something about supper and needing to attend to some matters.

“Once you’re fed, I’ll come find you and find you a shack to board in. It will most likely be mine, as the village is full enough as it is. Dusk and Colin will show you around a bit, let them know if you need anything.”

With that, you bundle the scarf over your face again and leave through the front door, not looking back behind you.

“...You think they saw that time I rode on a bear in just my undergarments?”

“Definitely.”

ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

[anomaliex]

Thinking about the Bad Kids cooking

I don't imagine Adaine had many practical skills like that in Freshman year, but she's had time to learn. Jawbone would probably think it's really important to set this young woman up with everyday skills people had neglected to teach her! Cute bonding activity :)

And, well, Fabian is Fabian. Canonically that's a disaster, for obvious reasons. I think it'd be pretty fun if the other Bad Kids helped him learn a little, I dunno. Go hey Fabian let's make grilled cheese I'm starving and wow now he knows how to do that. Obviously Fabian can be a bit comically dense but he's a smart guy in a practical sense so he'll figure it out with a bit of nudging, I think. This goes for baking too by the way. I think it'd be so cute if he made Cathilda cookies upon reunion because he loves her so much and I love them so much. They'd probably be a bit burned but they'd be edible, she would be so so happy. They are so special to me.

Kristen was raised in a super religious (well specifically "Christian" because that's what the Helioc faith seems to almost directly translate to lol) household and is also the eldest daughter so everything speaks for her being really good at household chores and cooking...but with that dexterity I don't trust her in the kitchen I won't lie...I mean, she can probably make nice food it'll taste good but I just know something lights on fire or falls on the floor every time.

With Riz it's like, decent? He doesn't take good care of himself but he can do it in theory. He probably won't make proper food for himself and actively forget (or knowingly opt out to save time) to eat when he's hyperfixating on something but if he saw his mother was super overworked he'd make dinner even at a younger age. He's not an outstanding cook or anything and used to work with limited ingredients a lot but he can sustain himself just fine if he actually bothers to do it.

Gorgug like, he can make a simple meal because the Thistlesprings wouldn't not teach him how to cook but he really only knows the basics? His parents definitely love cooking and spoiling him and it's very sweet but they're super doting so I think he just doesn't even have opportunity to practice doing that stuff himself much. Not to mention that he. Barely fits into the kitchen. I don't think he can really cook at the tree lmao. But he knows how to make, like, an omelette it's fine. I think Gorgug would be a good baker though!! And maybe he'd find it relaxing.

Fig is a wild card I honestly don't know. I can see her miraculously being a really good cook and I also see her definition of cooking being following the instructions to heat something up in the microwave. I think she goes wild on spices and is definitely adventurous which can be awesome and it's good to explore! But. God. There would be some horrible horrible creations along the way.

[ddarker-dreams]

Chrollo tells you a story from his childhood centered around bread.

(Warnings for religious mentions and canon typical depictions of his hometown, Meteor City)

“Hm… how uncanny is that.” 

Knowing that he’ll continue speaking cryptic phrases until you express an interest you most certainly don’t have, you sigh, and rest your cheek on your fist. 

“What’s uncanny?” 

Please don’t mean the bread, please don’t mean the bread, please don’t mean the bread— 

“This bread loaf,” he inclines his head toward it, as if you couldn’t spot the table’s lone occupant, “It’s bringing up some memories.” 

He’s really going to talk to you about bread. Fuck.

“Meteor City, destitute as it is, was an attractive prospect for missionaries. My friends cared little for the religious doctrine they’d expound, but I always found the teachings fascinating. It wasn’t uncommon to go days without eating, so they’d come along with me on the sole condition that food was being provided. The priest, knowing this, had me relay the message that at his next teaching, there’d be fresh bread. Children overflowed from the tent that normally only I would occupy. He preached his sermon.” 

There’s a nostalgic air to him as he continues. “By the end, he presented us with a challenge: whoever capable of best verbally expressing their devotion to God could have the bread. Each child present wanted to be the victor. There was a great deal of murmuring and thinking. He had us form a line, where one by one, we’d give what we hoped to be the winning response. My friend Phinks was first. ‘If I’d been there, I’da stomped the shit out of that snake,’ is what he went with. As you can imagine, the priest kept going down the line. 

Eventually, he got to me. I’d been closely monitoring his body language and facial expressions. From what I could tell, no answer so far had even come close. I decided to take a different approach. From his theology, I could tell he was of the Roman Catholic persuasion. And so I suggested that to best prove our love, we should have mass. I thought that by focusing on the collective rather than oneself, I’d meet his unspoken criteria. He intended to keep the results to himself until everyone had spoken their piece, but no sooner as the words left my mouth did I know that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. 

After everyone had their turn, he brought the bread out for all to see. While we were all excitedly wondering who the lucky individual would be, he raised his voice and began admonishing us. He quoted Matthew, ‘It is written: Man must not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God’. With that, he left us there, so that we could ‘think about what we’ve learned’.” 

Your jaw practically hits the floor. 

“I intended to counter his points later that night to see if I could win the community the bread they were promised. While I was preparing, a few children happened by, eating the bread that was pulled from under our noses. I asked where they got it from — they said Uvogin. Apparently, he learned what had happened and was incensed. I went to go see him so I could ask how he convinced the priest to give him the bread. I didn’t find Uvo at the place he normally hung out at, but I did see the priest.

He was… shall we say, arranged in a way that’s strenuous on the body. All the while he kept chanting, ‘Pater, aphes autois, ou gar oidasin ti poiousin’, though he lay dying. It left a strong impression on me. Especially because his pronunciation was slightly off… but more than that, I thought it interesting he held firm to the belief which landed him in this position. A belief he didn’t even understand properly. He passed with a content expression. He must’ve fancied himself a martyr. It later became a popular joke that in the end, he did prove that you can’t live on bread alone, since it didn’t seem to do him much good.” 

“How… how old were you?” 

“Seven or eight, I believe.” 

You get up from the table. You can feel his eyes following your every movement, from the suite’s dining room to the living space it's connected to. The suitcase you’ve yet to unpack sits patiently as you rummage through its contents. Grabbing what you need, you return to the table, where Chrollo regards you with a curious countenance. 

Your antidepressants rattle inside a small orange container as you put it before him. How he gets the medication, you haven’t the slightest clue. It’s more convenient to receive them from your enigmatic kidnapper than an uninsured trip to the psychiatrist. He’s got one thing going in his favor, at least. 

“Do you already need a refill?” 

You shake your head. 

“Just… after hearing that story… I think you might want to consider getting some of these for yourself. High dose.” 

[taeghi]

game changer | teaser

FULL RELEASE : read here

your investigation into the rivalry between the baseball and hockey teams takes an unexpected turn when both captains, heeseung and sunghoon, vie for your attention. and now you find yourself in the middle of a story that promises to be bigger than any game.

PAIRING : hockey captain!sunghoon x sports reporter!yn x baseball captain!heeseung

GENTRE: SMUT, love triangle, oral, unprotected sex, threesomes lol

WC : 15-20k

taglist????????

mdni

truth be told, you hated sports. 

you hated the religious jerseys, the chants, the complex rules– how it was so boring. 

but, sometimes the athletes were hot. 

in junior year you joined your college’s newspaper, you thought it would help your journalism major. your boss had told you the only opening was for the college’s sports reporter since the previous one had “given up”. although you had repetitively asked if there was literally any other opening, sports was the only one. 

and thus, you have become your college’s sports reporter. 

your college has multiple sports teams; basketball, baseball, rugby, football. but the teams that your college is most proud of– the teams that would fill the bleachers every game– are the baseball and hockey teams. 

honestly, you don’t get either sport. one was on some field and the other was ice and you tried to hit an object with a stick. you could care less. 

the baseball and hockey teams have a hatred for one another that the students at your school seem to enjoy. though, the reason for the strong hatred is unknown. you’ve asked your friends in passing about the teams, but their answer is always a prediction or suggestion. 

the real reason is kept by the baseball and hockey teams, like a secret only they can know. 

and so, you’ve made your number one goal as sport’s reporter to find out what that secret is, and nothing will stop you– not even the awful smell of the change rooms. 

the captain of the baseball team is lee heeseung. you know he was appointed captain quite early into his college baseball career. you remember everyone talking about it during your freshman year, about how odd it was for a freshman to become captain so quickly. 

you also know lee heeseung is fucking hot. 

he is extraverted and outgoing, a real sweetheart. you’ve heard people refer to him as a golden retriever before. the way he’s so playful, enthusiastic and friendly to everyone. 

but sometimes, that friendliness turns into flirting, and no one can deny lee heeseung’s flirting. he can easily charm anyone into bed with him with just his words and dazzling smile. he has an uncanny ability to captivate anyone. his natural charisma and genuine warmth make him irresistible. which leaves a trail of admirers just for him. 

the hockey team’s captain is no other than park sunghoon. 

sunghoon is enigmatic to say the least. he gives an aura of mystery and danger that seems to draw people in like moths to a flame. he’s known to have gotten into a lot of fights on and off the ice, almost losing his captain privilege once or so you’ve heard. 

sunghoon’s strong presence practically commands attention wherever he goes. his trademark smirk has gotten him into a lot of fun and a lot of trouble. you’ve seen him at a party, alone in a corner, pretending to talk to his friends, as he scans the party for a decent girl. once he’s fixed you with his intense gaze, smirk and nods in silent invitation, any girl is powerless to resist following him up to his bedroom.  park sunghoon and lee heeseung’s opposed allures are undeniable, their appeals irresistible, but you are determined to not fall for it. you must stick to your duty of finding out the secrets of the baseball and hockey teams– even if it means resisting the most desirable men at your college.

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)

stay safe everyone :)

[eldragon-x]

[ACT 1]

{On your way to the Favor Tree, you walk into Odile and ask if she wants to come along. She considers for a moment before agreeing, and following you.}

{You approach the Favor Tree.}

Odile 👓 The Favor Tree, huh… Isabeau showed me how to ask them for a favor a while ago. I take it that’s what you’re here for?

Mirabelle 🎀 That’s right! I know a lot of people already asked for Vaugarde to be saved, but I thought I’d ask too, since…

Odile 👓 Are you worried about tomorrow? 

Mirabelle 🎀 Hmrgh… 

{You nervously clasp your hands together. Odile looks up at the tree.}

Odile 👓 The Favor Trees aren’t really part of the Change belief, right?

Mirabelle 🎀 No… The Change God doesn’t grant favors. It’s more of a myth here in Vaugarde, but lately people have taken it more seriously because of the King…

{You take a breath.}

Mirabelle 🎀 Are you going to ask for a favor, Madame?

Odile 👓 Probably not… Forgive my pessimism, but I don’t see the point in relying on a mere myth.

Mirabelle 🎀 Oh…

{You both remain silent for a moment}

Mirabelle 🎀 Is there something you believe in?

Odile 👓 Religiously you mean? Well, in Ka Bue, we don’t really have Gods. They’re more like… Expressions? You’d pray to the ones you need the most currently in your life. I have been reaching out to the Expression of Battle and the Expression of Victory among others, for example.

Mirabelle 🎀 …Do you believe we will beat the King tomorrow?

Odile 👓 …Do you want my honest answer?

{You bite your lip. Odile looks to the ground. You don’t want to dwell on this.}

Mirabelle 🎀 Um, you know, Siffrin actually showed me how to wish on a tree once!

Odile 👓 Is that any different than asking for a favor?

Mirabelle 🎀 I think? You do it differently and he seems to believe in it more than most people…

Odile 👓 And how would that work?

{You smile, relieved that Odile goes along with the change in subject. You look around, pick up a leaf from the floor, and hold it up to show it to her.}

Mirabelle 🎀 First, you have to pick a leaf that represents yourself!

{Odile listens curiously.}

Mirabelle 🎀 Then you have to breathe your wish into the leaf three times and fold the leaf.

{To demonstrate, you hold the leaf close to your mouth and whisper.}

{You wish for the King to be defeated. You wish for all of you to make it. You wish for Vaugarde to be saved.}

{You fold the leaf, holding it like this for several moments, before letting it be carried away by a breeze.}

Odile 👓 Hm… I take it this isn’t a Vaugardian practice. Has Siffrin ever told you where they learned this ritual?

Mirabelle 🎀 They haven’t. But I thought it might be worth trying, seeing as he puts more faith into it, and I… I shouldn’t be saying this, I know it’s on me to bring about change, but I don’t think I can do this alone. 

{Odile gave you a look and for a moment, you were worried she was judging you. Instead, her expression shifted into a smirk.}

Odile 👓 You’re not planning to go to the House alone, are you?

Mirabelle 🎀 HUH?!?

Odile 👓 Because unless you are, you aren’t alone.

Mirabelle 🎀 MADAME!!

{Odile laughs, and you sigh.}

Mirabelle 🎀 Don’t scare me like this again!

Odile 👓 I didn’t mean to. But it snapped you out of something, no?

Mirabelle 🎀 I suppose…

{She isn’t wrong. You feel… not calmer, but not as anxious either.}

Odile 👓 Now then,

{To your surprise, Odile picks up a leaf.}

Mirabelle 🎀 Are you going to make a wish?

Odile 👓 As you said, Siffrin puts more faith into it than Vaugardians have for the Favor Trees. No harm in trying.

{You watch as Odile repeats the ritual you showed her. You are a little curious about what she whispers into the leaf, but decide not to ask. After folding it, Odile lets go of the leaf, letting it fly off.}

Odile 👓 Now, I still have to stock up in the shop for tomorrow. I’d like to rely on more than a wish for us to make it to the King. I’ll be seeing you in the clocktower, Mirabelle.

{You nod with a smile.}

Mirabelle 🎀 I’ll see you then!

[loudclan-clangen]

Yay! More lore!

They in fact cannot! Leadership is a lifelong commitment in Loudclan. Maybe they could sacrifice all but one of their lives and then just live as a normal warrior, or step down while keeping their lives, but the next leader wouldn't be able to receive their lives until the former leader was fully dead. Same goes for the Lead Healer. When they receive their lives they give up their "normal" life and become inextricably linked to Starclan/The Black Water and that's not something that can be undone.

Yes! Exactly like that! They have to die to see starclan the 1st time, this costs them their "mortal" life, so when they come back they are using their first "divine" life. When they sacrifice a life to speak to starclan they must die again in order to give the current life back, as opposed to giving up the chance of using a future life. This does mean that everytime they come back they come back slightly...different. Nothing major, they're still the same person, just like a different iteration of them. Maybe their favorite prey is different, or their dominant paw changes, minor things that no one but their closest friends and family would notice, but the leader rarely seems to notice the change.

This is going to be very vague, and I apologize for that, but if I was ever to explore one of the other clans in a blog it would be Freezingclan, so I don't want to say anything too definitively and lock myself into something I haven't fully thought out. But the answer is that no one from the other clans really knows? Freezingclan is weird, they've existed longer than all of the other clans, in fact longer than anyone can really remember, and they only decided to take the clan naming system for the ease of everyone else. They meet at gatherings and are generally quite friendly and shockingly generous, but they don't discuss their religious practices with the other clans too much, because it usually only results in confusion and fear. What I can tell you is that Freezingclan's ancestors don't go to the Black Water Pool with the rest of Starclan, as they've never been seen there and Freezingclan predates the discovery of the oil. Based on the logic of why Starclan lives in the oil (it's a pocket of eternal night) it would make sense for Freezingclan's ancestors to live in the depths of the ocean, but since their leaders don't receive lives there's really no way to prove it. It's equally possible that their ancestors just stop existing when they die and that makes the rest of the clans VERY uncomfortable so they've just stopped asking for the most part. Freezingclan certainly believes that they can communicate with them, leaving offerings of prey and herbs on the shore in exchange for plentiful hunts or healthy kits, and their Healers often slip into trances where they speak in strange languages, but no one can agree whether they are just faking it or not.

Okay, so, a lot of this ask touches on stuff that I want to cover later in backstory drops for the founders, but, I'll try to answer everything I can without spoiling anything for that! Wildfirecry is the only one who came from another Clan, he was a healer in Forestclan, which eventually collapsed, leaving him on his own. He met Fiercestripe along the way, she joined up with him, and they made their way to the valley territories. Meanwhile Owlstar and Siltsplash were born and raised in the valley. Generations of rogues, descended from kittypets who were abandoned when the mine closed, lived and died across the valley, of which Owlstar and Siltsplash were two. Owlstar was sort of a folk-hero amongst the rogues, so when he and Wildfirecry got together and decided to form a clan, many others followed. Owlstar asked the studious and strict young Siltsplash to help him keep the clan in line, and they excitedly accepted, becoming his mate and deputy. The mountain was chosen because they were seeing signs of an especially harsh winter, and it's one of the few places where the wind keeps the snow from piling several feet high. Shadedclan and Ghostclan formed for similar reasons, only they disagreed about where they should go to escape the deep snows. They absolutely did leave behind people that they miss/feel deeply guilty for leaving, but those are details for a later post!

[pomefioredove]

i was wondering if you could do Duece, Leona, Ruggie, Azul, Jamil x Christian S/O headcanons? like reader used to be a preacher back at their world, and still kinda preaches in twst (i think rollo believes in God?) like they do all the things Christians should do but still kinda chaotic? their very respectfull and kind yk? sorry for making this a bit long and confusing lol

twst's relationship with religion is so vague and complicated and yet. I cannot imagine rollo as anything BUT catholic. look at that guy. so I believe there's some kind of similar belief systems happening there

summary: religious reader type of post: headcanons characters: deuce, leona, ruggie, azul, jamil additional info: platonic or romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader yuu, short and not proofread author's note: writing these on the basis that religion does exist in twisted wonderland and parallels religions of our own. I am catholic and admittedly unfamiliar with preaching to others, I think that's more of a protestant thing, so I kinda just winged that part?

𝐃𝐞𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐝𝐞

if there's anything for him to admire, it's your dedication

I mean, you're sticking to your beliefs and passions in an entirely different universe

with a bunch of strangers, no less!

whether or not some version of your beliefs exist here, you're committed! and quite knowledgeable, too

it's pretty impressive to him

Deuce's family doesn't seem particularly religious, though he probably just enjoys hearing the stories

the narratives of change and redemption catch his eye

𝐑𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐢

he's big into all those "it's easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God" verses

even if he doesn't necessarily believe in all that heaven stuff... it's a little funny

(he might use that one in the future, actually...)

if religion which parallels our own does exist in Twisted Wonderland, I can imagine his granny being religious

she seems like someone who'd cover the walls in symbols and art

maybe (likely) not Christian in origin, but enough for him to recognize that what you're going on about is a similar deal

he's practically used to it already

𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫

literally just falls asleep while you're talking

it's not that he doesn't care, it's just that...

wait, no. he doesn't care

sure, he participates in traditions and such with his family, but that's more for looks

Leona doesn't really see the point in blindly following something that hasn't helped him out at all

and hearing about miracles and blessings just annoys him

but, hey! you make for a great sound machine

these are basically all just bedtime stories for him to doze off to, anyway

𝐀𝐳𝐮𝐥 𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨

merman religion is... tricky, to me

the existence of Hades in implies (confirms, even, if we take into account Yuu's dreams) the existence of Poseidon

but, like King Triton, these figures aren't necessarily worshipped. they're depicted as monarchs, not gods

but, then again, our knowledge on Coral Sea culture is limited

in any case, Azul might tolerate preaching

he really sees no use for it, and he's a busy man, but he doesn't really mind the company

if anyone, it's Jade who would be really interested in hearing alllll about these human stories

Floyd might tag along, too

and, suddenly, Azul finds himself wedged between the tweel's shoulders on the floor while they eagerly listen to you

...there goes his afternoon

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥 𝐕𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫

to me, Jamil is not religious or superstitious by any means

he doesn't mind listening, but don't expect him to change his mind about any of that

(especially while Kalim is begging for more stories)

though, even he admits that having you around is as refreshing as it is entertaining

you're just always so... hopeful

and it's much different from Kalim's version of optimism (in his eyes, at least) simply because, in this world, you're at the same disadvantage as Jamil is

your autonomy is constantly in question, you're living at the mere goodwill of others...

and yet, you're hopeful!

it's strange, but Jamil can't help but crave that presence in his life

[techramonic]

Speak, Hear, and See No Evil; Embody it.

An Essay Analysis on Religious Trauma and its connection to Nihilism through the Case Study of Vladislav Roslyakov

There is a profound intersection in faith and mentality. To uncover one’s whole being, the aspect of spirituality is well within the equation. While many use their faith as a symbol of fortitude, a steadfast hope that guides their way of living – creating practically a coherent path in a world so inconsistent and unpredictable, others see it as the pinpoint of their internal turmoil. Faith is not for all of us. If one rejects the idea of seeking solace in an institute of collective belief, then they do not believe in such a concept as “being saved”. To them, there is no redemption, only pain. 

Some people need a rather tangible and physical form of revelation for an adherence of recognition. It is the ideology: when you look up at the sky and do not see anyone looking back at you, that is when you know it’s not for you. You do not believe in such a thing as self-sacrifice, for you only see the world in a lens of self-slaughter. Often, this strained relationship with faith becomes Religious Trauma. 

Psychotherapist Dr. Alyson M. Stone acknowledges a positive link between religion and mental health but notes a lack of studies on spirituality's impact. According to Stone, “Religious trauma is more prevalent than the research suggests and often is a contributing factor to many of the problems that bring people to therapy, including depression, anxiety, and relationship difficulties. For this reason, religious trauma deserves careful attention” (Stone 2013, p. 324). Furthermore, Marlene Winell (2012) coined "religious trauma syndrome" (RTS) to describe the distress from "toxic theology." This refers to authoritarian religious doctrines demanding strict adherence, often equating disobedience to damnation.

In the case of Vlad, his mother was a Jehovah's Witness. This religious sect is banned under Russian law despite an estimated 175,000 followers in the country. In 2017, Russia’s Supreme Court found the organization guilty of inciting religious hatred by "propagating the exclusivity and supremacy" of their beliefs. Subsequent to  Russian anti-extremism laws extending to non-violent groups in 2007, placing it into the same category as neo-Nazis and members of al Qaeda.

To understand this, we must first look into Vladik’s childhood leading up to this point. Vlad’s father, a former Russian soldier who served in Afghanistan for several years, sustained brain damage from an assault, making him aggressive toward his family, leading to frequent physical abuse over his wife, parents, and even his son. He was also an alcoholic, where his violence would worsen when intoxicated. By the age of 10, his parents had filed for a divorce and he lived under the custody of his mother in a rundown apartment with poor conditions because they could not afford amenities.

Following this, his mother had renowned her faith. Neighbors described her as a devout follower who spent a lot of time in prayer. They recounted that she had barely any concern for Vlad due to being too focused on her faith, but there were many instances of her controlling nature towards her son’s life. According to Vlad’s profile background, his mother would frequently punish him for disobeying rules of her faith. Although he accompanies her in services, he does not recognize himself as a follower. He publicly expressed his contempt on Jehovah’s Witnesses as, “some kind of fools who dance and sing.” A friend of his had also expressed that the two would often make fun of the community. Despite these differences, Vlad still appeared to care for his  mother and understood that she had no other means of coping and did not have a community to interact with since she had no friends or relatives close by. With this, he made sure to spend time with her, yet we can discern that these regulatory rules are merely pushed unto him.

Vlad was not allowed to engage in hobby classes, amateur activities, or even watch movies as the faith forbids these activities. According to his VK chats with Liza Panchenko, his favorite movies were Stand by Me, Pulp-Fiction, and Lost Highway. However, he stated, “I didn’t watch any good movies after 2005”. Though this may be a speculation, one of the possible reasons for this is because he was forbidden by his mother. However, despite her warnings, it is clear that he still would go against her.

Vlad became sports-obsessed and developed an interest in weaponry, violence, neo-nazism, war, and killers. Despite occasionally picking up fights and being placed on the “chair of shame” by his college director, Vlad was reserved and withdrawn from others. His friends had described him as a loner, who was quiet and avoided making friends, rather talking about topics of violence, especially about Columbine. He had no intimate relationships or sense of future and practically only attended school because he was forced by his parents. He did not see any future and saw no escape other than death. Even with an interest in violence and guns himself, he expresses a disdain towards joining occupations like the armed forces.

Moving forward, it is crucial to recognize that the psychological distress caused by religious trauma can manifest into Nihilistic ideology. According to Alfred Alder, a psychoanalyst who founded individual psychology, human behavior is motivated by our unique experiences and the perceptions we garner off of these. To him, humans are driven by goals and we aim for superiority by striving for these goals which are molded by our values and aspirations. These in turn develop into a lifestyle that affects us in different aspects of our behavior.

Furthermore, Alder speculated that psychological development occurs when people pursue meaningful goals, though factors can disrupt this process. Exchanging the feeling of self-superiority with inferiority and emptiness. When one lacks any meaningful goal, they are devoid of any means to stay motivated because they have no inherent cause that may allow them to “live”. 

From a nihilistic perspective, the absence of inherent meaning in existence can lead individuals to view life as a mere distraction. You exist, yet you do not truly live—merely passing time because life feels more like an obligation than a will. This allows you to fade into a concept and lose touch with your humanity. You become a mere entity in this world so vast that it cannot accompany the hatred you bear for it because you are insignificant. You see yourself as nothing, born out of your lack of purpose, therefore you are nothing.

To tie this into the conversation, trauma and abuse can disrupt the process of finding and garnering purpose, hindering the creation of goals and instead, promoting nihilistic attitudes. This includes religion, which can either be an antidote or a poison. 

Religious trauma can be a  catalyst for promoting nihilistic thinking. Taking Vlad as an example, when individuals are subjected to oppressive religious doctrines that instill shame, fear, and guilt – it can lead to an inflated sense of despair. This dread of being trapped in a system that dictates your worth and purpose fuels the tendencies to lean into nihilistic ideologies. You are cornered with no escape despite religion itself being a form of solace and escapism made for believers to feel less in despair. Vlad's strict upbringing in a religious environment and controlling mother contributed to his growing resentment towards religion and humanity itself. This lack of free will over his beliefs and choices only amplified this sense of dread over being powerless. Further alienating him from others because he believes that no one will truly help him, not even God.

If God is not there to help and save him and there are no means of a divine intervention in his life, then he will be the intervention himself. He is the destruction the world has insistently brought upon his life in the form of unforeseen circumstances. He is the “judgment” that he has been taught to fear. He is the delusion that he has created because of his fixation over power. He is hatred. He shall not speak of evil, nor hear it, or see it. So, in turn, he is the embodiment of the evil he is taught to not be. 

Hatred, just like anger, does not come from evil but mistreatment. Though in this case, it is amplified to a point it becomes visceral. Vlad's constant exposure to religious extremism and the trauma he endured further deepened his nihilistic perspective and in turn, developed his trauma into a projection of an image of hatred over things he cannot control: his life and the people around him. Moreover, the trauma from his father's abuse and his mother’s overbearing nature only developed a deep-rooted cynicism towards conventional structures. In his belief, if he is controlled by anything but himself, it is evil.

To conclude, religion has a profound impact on an individual's psyche. It has the ability to either heal a person or destroy them completely. Vlad’s life is a perfect example of how one’s religious trauma can manifest into a distortion of their worldview, ultimately leading to them seeing no other escape in this miserable existence other than death.