#tho it drained the last of my energy

[slumberouslemon]

Had a terrible day, but I managed to make myself soup. Feeding myself on a bad day is so hard, but this recipe allowed me to lay down between steps, so 10/10 will make again

[kirishwima]

can people leave me alone. AT LEAST on my days off

[s-ccaam-era-crepe]

clothing shopping is the mind killer </3

[superfluouskeys]

godddddd wasting time and energy on things that don't fucking matter has got to be THE worst feeling

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

ok crying made me so so so very tired actually i think its time for bed

[jonny-b-meowborn]

What if you wanted to play Road 96 (to see your bbgirls) but God said "besties birthday tomorrow you have to finish your gift for her"

[sameteeth]

im working really hard at relationships rn and its like. REALLY draining. but im doing it!

[jiatiful]

.

[lupinqs]

GHOSTFACE ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: after a kill, paige decides she needs to fuck you senseless.

☆ ━ word count: 8.3K

☆ ━ warnings: sexual content (absolute pure filth, dom!paige, kinda bratty!reader, choking, blood kink, knifeplay, oral, fingering), oh yeah also murder

☆ ━ links: my masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: my halloween treat for you 🍬😜 on a serious note tho this is actually the freakiest nastiest shit i’ve ever written idk wtf i was on

THE CAR idles in the dark, the soft hum of the engine barely cutting through the late-night quiet of Storrs. You sit in the driver’s seat, the burner phone in your lap, your fingers drumming against the wheel as you steal a glance at the clock. It’s past midnight, the world outside wrapped in a blanket of stillness, but your heart is anything but calm. The recent killings on campus have the entire student body on edge, but no one would ever guess that the two of you—the school’s sweetheart basketball star and her quiet, unsuspecting girlfriend—are the ones behind it all.

Tonight, though, has a different kind of energy. It’s not just about the kill. It’s about what came before. Paige is sitting next to you in the passenger seat, her Ghostface costume on, the long black cloak pooling around her legs. Her game-day braids are still tied back into a ponytail, her skin still glowing with the leftover adrenaline from the UConn game earlier tonight. She’d killed it on the court—led the team to another win, the crowd chanting her name as she drained shot after shot.

Now, she’s about to kill in a very different way.

You feel a surge of excitement just thinking about it—about how she can seamlessly transition from the basketball star everyone worships to this… to your partner in something darker, something the two of you have created and mastered together. You’ve always been the one with the words, the voice on the phone that lures them in, taunting them, teasing them, until Paige steps in and finishes the job. She’s the executioner, but you set the stage.

“Still riding that high, huh?” you tease, your voice soft but playful as you glance over at her. You can see it in the way her leg bounces slightly, the leftover buzz of the game still coursing through her.

Paige turns to you, a smirk playing on her lips. “Can’t help it. We crushed ‘em tonight.” She adjusts the mask in her lap, her eyes flickering with excitement that’s just as much about what’s to come as it is about the win she’s still basking in. “You saw that last block, right? Perfect.”

You chuckle, nodding. “Yeah, it was good.”

She grins, her confidence practically radiating off her. It’s the same look she wears after every game—this electric mix of pride and hunger for more. But tonight, there’s a sharper edge to it, a different kind of hunger simmering beneath the surface. One that only you know about.

Paige leans over suddenly, her hand grabbing your jaw, pulling you into her, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s rough, heated. You kiss her back, matching her intensity, the burner phone nearly slipping from your lap as your hand grips the back of her neck. The adrenaline from the night, from her win, from the secret you both share—it all mixes into a heady, intoxicating rush.

She pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, her voice low and teasing. “Wish me luck, baby.”

Her smirk is wicked as she slips the Ghostface mask over her head, the familiar face now staring back at you. It’s eerie, unnerving—everything it’s supposed to be—but you know who’s behind it. Paige.

The sound of the car door opening is the only thing that breaks the silence as Paige steps out, her black cloak trailing behind her as she disappears into the night.

You wait a few moments, scrolling through your phone before deciding to get out. The door slams shut behind you with a sharp, metallic thud that echoes through the quiet night. The cold Connecticut wind bites at your face as you step away from the car, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. It’s freezing tonight, the kind of chill that seeps into your bones and lingers, but the thrill, the adrenaline of what’s about to happen, keeps you warm enough.

You shove your hands into your pockets, walking slowly toward the edge of the building. The apartment complex looms ahead, its brick exterior cold and silent, with only a few lights flickering from various windows. Your breath fogs up in the night air as you circle around, your shoes scraping against the asphalt, the distant sounds of traffic muffled by the wind.

You reach the back of the building, your body finding refuge against the brick wall. The rough texture scratches through your jacket as you lean against it, glancing around to make sure no one’s nearby. You’re careful, always careful. This isn’t your first time doing this, after all.

Paige is inside, probably already climbing the stairs, making her way to the bartender’s apartment. You can imagine her slipping through the shadows, as quiet and deadly as she is on the court, that same fierce determination in her eyes.

You pull a cigarette from your pocket, slipping it between your lips before lighting it, the flame briefly illuminating your face before you inhale deeply. The smoke curls in the cold air, the familiar burn in your lungs settling you, grounding you. This part of the night is always the same—the waiting. But it’s also the part you’ve come to appreciate. The anticipation, the patience it takes. You wait for Paige’s text, the one that’ll let you know she’s in position, ready for you to make the call.

The call that’ll lure tonight’s target straight into her arms.

The bartender. You think back to that night, just a few days ago, when you and Paige were out with her team. It was supposed to be a fun night, just you, Paige, and the rest of the girls, celebrating another win. Paige had been in her usual form—confident, charismatic, drawing everyone’s attention like she always does. But then she came into the picture. The fucking bartender.

The girl had been pouring drinks all night, flirting shamelessly with Paige, making little comments, smiling at her in a way that made your blood boil. Paige had stayed cool, giving her those polite but dismissive smiles, her arm draped around your waist as if to make it clear. But the bartender either didn’t care or didn’t notice, and it had pissed you off. You could tell Paige had noticed too, the way she tightened her grip on you, the way her eyes flicked to yours whenever the girl leaned in too close.

And, later that night, after a few drinks, the two of you had ended up in the bathroom, making out against the sink. Paige had been rougher than usual, her hands gripping your hips, her lips almost bruising yours, and in the heat of it, she’d pulled back, breathless, and whispered, “You wanna kill her?”

You hadn’t hesitated. Of course you wanted to kill her.

So, tonight, here you are. The plan is simple—Paige gets in, finds her, and you make the call. Then, Paige does what she does best. Only tonight, there’s something different. Paige had promised that you’d get the final stab. The last touch, the one that seals the deal, making it yours too.

You take another drag from the cigarette, exhaling slowly, your eyes scanning the street. Everything is still, nothing but the occasional flicker of movement behind closed windows. The night is quiet, like it’s holding its breath, waiting for what’s about to unfold.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you feel a thrill shoot up your spine. You pull it out and glance at the screen.

It’s Paige.

One word: Ready.

Your heart skips a beat, the cigarette forgotten as you flick it away, crushing it under your heel. Showtime. You slide the phone back into your hand, dialing the bartender’s number. It rings once, twice, before the click of the line picking up fills your ear. For a moment, all you can hear is the faint sound of background noise—some low music, maybe the TV—and then her voice comes through, light and unexpectedly cheery for how late it is.

“Hello?” The bartender’s tone is casual, friendly, like she’s used to people calling her at odd hours. It’s clear she’s not expecting anything out of the ordinary.

You suppress a grin, knowing exactly where this is headed. You always start the same way—light, teasing, pretending to be someone she might actually want to talk to. And as always, you speak through the voice changer, your voice distorted into something deeper, something unrecognizable.

“Hey,” you say, the voice changer making you sound almost playful. “You still up?”

There’s a pause on the other end, like she’s trying to place your voice. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Who’s this?”

You lean back against the wall, settling into your role. “Just someone who noticed you the other night. Thought I’d give you a call. You just started bartending, right? At Ted’s?”

Another pause, and you can almost hear the gears turning in her head. “Oh,” she says after a moment, her tone picking up with a hint of amusement. “Yeah, that’s me. How’d you get my number?”

You chuckle, low and smooth, keeping your tone flirtatious. “Got my ways.”

She laughs softly, clearly entertained. “Well, I guess you’re resourceful, huh? What’s your name?”

You sidestep the question, keeping her engaged, knowing that she’ll follow along if you give her just enough. “What’s yours?” you ask instead, turning it around on her.

She laughs again, a little softer this time, and you can picture her sitting up, maybe twirling her hair or playing with her phone. “Kelsey,” she offers.

“Kelsey,” you repeat, letting her name roll off your tongue, the voice changer making it sound almost sinister, but not enough for her to notice—yet. “Pretty name. You’re pretty good at pouring drinks too.”

She snorts. “Well, thanks. I do my best. You one of my regulars or something?”

You let the silence hang for a beat, then reply, “You could say that. I saw you with your hands all over that blonde girl the other night. What was her name? Paige?”

There’s a shift in her tone now, a slight hesitation. “Oh… yeah, I remember her,” she says, her voice a bit more careful, like she’s suddenly unsure of where this conversation is going. “You friends with her or something?”

You can feel her starting to get a little uneasy, and it makes you smile, the thrill of it building in your chest. You lean forward slightly, taking a deep breath before speaking again.

“Something like that,” you say, your voice low now, more serious. “You were really bold, flirting with her like that, Kelsey. I gotta say, I don’t think she appreciated it. And I definitely didn’t.”

There’s a beat of silence. A longer one this time. And when she speaks again, there’s a trace of nervous laughter in her voice. “Okay, uh… who the hell is this?”

You can hear her trying to play it off, but there’s a flicker of panic underneath. She’s starting to realize this isn’t a joke. This isn’t some casual late-night flirtation.

“You don’t remember me?” you ask, sounding almost innocent. “I was there that whole night.”

Her breath catches, and then she laughs again, this time more forced, trying to regain control. “Alright, this is getting weird,” she says. “I’m gonna hang up now—”

“Don’t.” Your voice cuts through sharply, commanding, and you hear the soft gasp she makes on the other end. “Don’t you fucking dare hang up.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of her breathing, shaky now, uneven. You can almost see her, sitting in her apartment, probably looking around, trying to figure out if this is a prank, if someone’s watching her. You know the thoughts running through her head. You’ve seen it all before.

“Look, I don’t know who you are or what you want, but—”

“I want you to stay on the phone,” you interrupt, your voice laced with cold amusement. “You’ve been real fun to talk to so far, Kelsey. Don’t ruin it now.”

You hear her exhale sharply, the panic setting in for real now. “This isn’t funny, okay? Just—just leave me alone, or I’m calling the cops.”

“Go ahead,” you say casually, starting to grin. “Call them. Tell them someone’s watching you.”

Her breath hitches again, and you can hear the unmistakable tremor in her voice. “Watching me? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Your smile widens. “Sweetheart,” you say softly, almost kindly, “I can see you.”

A small, broken gasp escapes her, and you hear her scramble, probably getting off the couch, rushing to lock her door or check her windows. The desperation in her voice is thick now. “Where are you? Where the fuck are you?”

You pause for just a second, letting the tension build, before finally answering, “Right behind you.”

There’s a crash on the other end of the line, followed immediately by a scream that’s cut short. You hear the sound of a body hitting the floor, the unmistakable sound of the phone dropping, and then—

The pleading starts.

“Please, no—no—” Kelsey’s voice is choked, panicked, and you can hear her gasping for air, her words coming out in sobs now. You can picture it perfectly—Paige towering over her, the blade glinting in the dim light of the apartment. The sound of a struggle follows, Kelsey’s voice growing more desperate, more terrified. “Please! I—”

And then the first stab.

It’s a wet, sickening sound, the blade sinking into flesh. Kelsey’s scream is sharp, but it quickly turns into a gargle as blood fills her throat. You hear her choking, trying to speak, to beg. There’s more stabbing, more squelching, before it stops, and all you can hear are weak, broken sobs.

For a few more seconds, there’s nothing but shuffling, the sound of Paige moving around, and then—quiet.

You wait, holding your breath, the anticipation still thrumming through you, until finally, you hear her voice. Paige’s voice, smooth, confident, and a little out of breath.

“Baby,” she says, and you can practically hear her smile through the phone, “you can come on up here now. She’s ready for you.”

You hang up before beginning to walk, keeping your pace quick as you stride into the apartment building. You’re trying to be fast—you don’t want her to fucking bleed out and die before you can finish her off.

The elevator ride up to her floor feels agonizingly slow, your foot tapping impatiently against the metal floor. When you finally reach her door, you stop for a second, taking a breath, checking the number to make sure it’s the right one. Your fist raises, knocking once—sharp and deliberate.

The door swings open almost immediately, and there she is—Paige, standing in the doorway, her figure backlit by the dim apartment lights. She’s still wearing the Ghostface costume, though the mask dangles casually from her hand now. Her braids, still in that game-day ponytail, are a little mussed, strands sticking out here and there, but it only adds to the chaotic allure of her right now. There’s blood splattered across her face, stark against her skin, and across her clothes too. She hasn’t even bothered to clean it up yet, and God, you can’t help but think she looks so fucking hot.

Her eyes are gleaming, and there’s that familiar smirk on her lips, a wild energy simmering underneath her calm exterior. She steps aside, motioning you inside with an almost nonchalant flick of her hand, like she’s inviting you into some casual dinner party, not a murder scene.

“Come on in,” Paige murmurs, her voice low, still tinged with excitement.

You step inside, your shoes making soft thuds against the hardwood floor. As you move past her, you catch the faintest whiff of blood—coppery, metallic—and it sends a rush through you, like a shot of adrenaline straight to your veins. Paige closes the door behind you, and you take in the scene in front of you.

Kelsey is on the floor, twitching in agony, her body twisted at an unnatural angle. She’s choking on her own blood, gasping and gargling as it pools in her mouth, her eyes wide with terror and pain. It’s clear she’s still alive, but just barely. Paige has done her job, but she’s left enough for you to finish.

Paige steps up behind you, her breath warm against your neck as she leans in close, her lips brushing against your ear. “She’s all yours,” she whispers, pressing the bloody knife into your hand. The blade is still warm, slick with Kelsey’s blood, and the weight of it in your hand sends a thrill through you.

You take the knife, your fingers tightening around the hilt as you approach Kelsey’s broken, twitching form. Her eyes, glazed over with fear and pain, manage to lock onto yours as you kneel beside her. The sound of her labored breathing is all you can hear, the wet gurgle of blood in her throat. You smile down at her, a sweet, almost tender expression crossing your face.

“Hi, Kelsey,” you say softly, your voice gentle, as if you’re greeting an old friend.

You think you hear her try to form the word please, but it’s lost in the thick, choking blood that fills her throat. Her body jerks slightly, like she’s trying to move, trying to plead, but it’s useless now.

You bring the knife to her face, the tip of the blade tracing lightly along her cheek, not even hard enough to cut. It’s almost affectionate, the way you drag the metal across her skin. But then, with a quick, practiced motion, you bring the knife down to her throat, slitting it cleanly, efficiently. There’s a brief spray of blood—splashing up onto your face—as her body convulses once, twice, and then slumps against the floor, lifeless.

“Fucking bitch,” you mutter under your breath, watching the last bit of life drain from her body. You stay there for a moment, just staring at her, taking in the scene—the blood, the broken, twisted limbs, the silence that settles over the room now that she’s dead.

You’re still staring when you feel Paige behind you again, pulling you up to stand. Her hands slide around your waist, her front pressing against your back. One of her big hands splays across your stomach, holding you close, while her other finds your wrist, gently taking the knife from your hold.

“That was so hot, baby,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with admiration and lust, her breath right against your ear.

You lean back into her touch, your body relaxing against hers as she starts to pepper soft kisses along your neck, her lips trailing up your jawline. The tension in the room shifts from the violence of the kill to something more intimate, more charged. You close your eyes, letting the sensation of her mouth on your skin, her hands on your body, wash over you.

Paige’s teeth graze against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck before she begins to suck, hard enough to leave a mark. You gasp softly, the sensation heightened as her hands slowly slide up your arms, fingers brushing the fabric of your zip-up hoodie. In one smooth motion, she tugs it down, letting it fall to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your red, lacy tank top. Ironically, the color is a perfect match for the blood spattered across the room, across both of you.

Her hands move to your shoulders first, but then one of them drifts lower, grabbing at your chest, squeezing your tit through the thin lace, pulling your back tighter against her front. You feel caged in her hold, a gasp escaping your lips as her grip grows firmer. But the real shock comes when you feel the teasing touch of the knife, the cold metal ghosting along the skin of your arm. Paige trails it down, tracing the sliver of bare skin just below where your tank top ends and just above where your sweatpants begin.

And then, with deliberate precision, Paige slashes the knife upward, cutting clean through the middle of your tank top. The fabric falls open, revealing your skin to the cool air and the warmth of her breath on your neck. You whine softly, “P, that was expensive.”

Paige just chuckles darkly, her fingers tightening around your breast, thumb brushing over your now pert nipple, as she whispers, “I’ll buy you another one.” With that, she pulls the torn fabric off you, letting it drop to the ground, leaving you completely topless. You weren’t wearing a bra beneath the tank, and the sudden exposure makes you shiver, but Paige’s body pressed against yours keeps you warm.

In one swift motion, she’s spinning you around, pressing her lips against yours, kissing you with a rough intensity. You can taste the blood on her lips, probably a mixture of the blood spatters on both of your faces. Her hand grips the side of your neck, holding you firmly in place, while her other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. Her palm presses into your lower back, and the cold handle of the knife digs into your skin, a reminder of everything you’ve just done together.

Your hands move instinctively to her ponytail, fingers threading through her braids before you give a slight tug. The moan that escapes from your lips is muffled by her kiss, but it’s enough to make Paige groan against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you. You pulling her hair seems to set something off in her, fueling that dark intensity behind her eyes. She bites at your bottom lip, tugging lightly as she starts to push you back, guiding you towards the couch.

When the back of your legs hit the edge, you lose your balance and fall back onto the cushions, and Paige doesn’t waste a second. She’s immediately on top of you, her knee slipping between your legs, nudging against your clothed core with a teasing pressure. Her hand is already at your chest, kneading your breast while her other hand wraps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you wince—but in the way you like. You can feel the heat building inside you as her fingers press into the sides of your neck, right where your pulse pounds beneath your skin.

Paige’s mouth meets yours again, more demanding this time, her tongue pushing past your lips, exploring your mouth with a hunger that matches your own. The pressure of her thumb on your pulse point makes your head swim, the sensation mixing pleasure with just the right hint of pain. You moan again, this time louder, your hips instinctively shifting under her as you crave more of that pressure between your legs.

She pulls away for a moment, just enough to trail her tongue along the edge of your lips, teasing and slow. Her tongue slides down to your chin, licking away the last remnants of the bartender’s blood from earlier, and it sends a shiver down your spine. The metallic tang still lingers as she leans back in to kiss you again, the taste of blood filling both of your mouths, and it only makes you want more.

And then you begin to feel something cold and sharp press against your skin. It takes you a second to realize what it is—she’s taken the knife again, and now the cold, wet metal is sliding over the valley between your breasts. The feeling sends a shiver through your body, and you gasp into her mouth as she presses the blade against your skin, wiping the blood from earlier onto you.

She pulls back slightly, her darkened eyes focused on the trail of blood she’s smearing onto your chest. The sight alone makes your breath catch. Paige’s lips curve into a smirk as she watches your reaction, clearly enjoying the way your body tenses beneath her. She doesn’t say anything at first, just lets her mouth move downward, trailing kisses along your collarbones, lingering there as her hot breath mingles with the coolness of the blood.

“God, you look so fucking good like this,” Paige murmurs against your skin, her voice low and gravelly. Her lips are teasing, pressing soft, feather-light kisses that make your heart pound harder.

Then she lowers her head further, until her mouth is right between your breasts, where the blood is smeared in a messy line. You feel her tongue dart out, licking a slow, deliberate stripe across your skin, cleaning the blood off in one long motion. The sensation makes you arch your back, a soft moan slipping from your lips as her tongue glides over your skin.

Her knee presses harder between your legs, creating a delicious friction that has you biting your lip, trying to stifle another moan. But it’s impossible to keep quiet when Paige is so close, her body practically overwhelming yours with heat and pressure. You grip her back, nails digging into her shirt as she keeps licking the blood off your chest, the knife still cold in her hand as it brushes against your skin.

Paige chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating through you as she moves her lips to one of your breasts, taking your nipple into her mouth. Her tongue swirls around the sensitive peak, teasing, sucking lightly at first. Your whole body reacts, your breath catching in your throat, and a gasp escapes you as she bites down gently, enough to send a shock of pleasure through you.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet,” she murmurs, her voice muffled against your skin as she switches to your other breast, her mouth relentless. “So perfect and pretty for me, baby.”

Her words send another wave of heat through you, and you can’t help but moan again, louder this time, your body arching into hers. The pressure of her knee between your legs intensifies, and you grind down instinctively, craving more of that contact.

Paige’s mouth leaves your breast, trailing wet kisses down your abdomen. Her tongue flicks out, teasing along your ribs, before she starts sucking at your skin hard enough that you know she’s leaving marks—evidence of where she’s claimed you, the sensation sending sharp tingles through you.

Her hands move with purpose, finding the waistband of your sweatpants. You don’t even realize what she’s doing until you feel her fingers digging into your pocket, pulling something out before she slides your pants down your legs, leaving you in nothing but the lacy red thong that matches the blood-smeared mess around you and that did match your now-ruined tank top.

Paige takes her time, her gaze dark and heated as she admires the way the lace clings to your skin. She reaches out, hooking her finger under the waistband of the thong, pulling it back teasingly. The pressure is light, but it’s enough to make you shiver as she flicks it back against your skin with a soft snap. Paige hums, clearly pleased by your reaction, her smirk growing as her eyes meet yours.

You’re about to say something, maybe tease her back, when you notice what’s in her hand. It takes a second for it to register, but then you realize it’s the voice changer. The same one you use to make all your taunting phone calls.

Paige brings it up to her lips, turning it on with a flick of her thumb. “Do you wanna play a game?” Her voice comes out distorted, deep and twisted in that familiar way, making your heart race with a mix of excitement and surprise.

Immediately, you reach for the voice changer, shaking your head. “Babe, that’s my thing—” you protest, because it is. You’re the one who always calls the shots. You’re the one who makes the phone calls, who controls the game. Not her.

But Paige is quicker. She pulls back just enough to keep it out of your reach, sitting up on her knees and holding the voice changer above her head, far enough that you’d have to try harder to grab it. She cocks her head, a playful yet dangerous glint in her eyes. “Ah-ah,” she clicks her tongue, the sound sharp and commanding. Her expression makes it clear—if you try to take it again, you’re not going to like what happens next.

You lower your hand, your heart pounding in anticipation, your body already responding to the shift in control. Paige’s eyes stay locked on yours, her smile widening as she brings the voice changer back to her lips.

“I said,” she repeats, her voice low and sultry before flicking it back on, “do you wanna play a game?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real defiance behind it, just attitude—the kind Paige loves and hates equally. “What kinda game?” you ask, the challenge evident in your tone.

Paige’s grin grows, dark and wicked. She’s clearly enjoying this. “Oh, it’s simple,” she begins, her voice turning to a dangerous purr. “You’re gonna follow my rules. You do exactly what I say, and maybe I’ll let you finish.”

You scoff a little at that, trying to keep up the act of being unimpressed, but there’s no denying the way her words send a surge of heat straight through you. “And what if I don’t?” you counter, testing her.

Paige’s eyes flash, her smirk growing more predatory, the same look she gets before she kills. She leans in close, the voice changer still in hand as she trails the back of the knife down your stomach, teasingly slow. “Then I’ll make sure you beg for it,” she whispers, her breath hot against your skin.

You feel your throat go dry at the sensation of the knife, her breath, the words she says. You swallow, staying quiet.

“You like that, yeah?” Paige says, her voice dropping lower as she presses the flat of the knife against your stomach, the cool metal sending shivers down your spine. “When I’m the one tellin’ you what to do, when I make you all desperate and shi.”

Paige continues to move the knife down, grazing along the edge of your thong, the metal tracing the fabric lightly as she keeps talking through the voice changer. “Here’s what we’re gon’ do,” she starts, giving you a pointed look. “You’re gonna keep your hands right here,” she instructs, using her own hand to bring your wrists together and pulling them over your head, resting behind you against the armrest of the couch. “And you’re not gon’ move them. If you do… I’ll make sure it’s not pretty, ‘kay?” The implication is enough to make your breath hitch.

You stare up at her, heart racing, but you don’t argue. The way she’s looking at you—hungry and in control—makes you want to give in. To let her push you to the edge.

“And you’re gonna beg,” Paige adds, her voice husky, the grin on her face positively wicked. “Beg me to fuck you. Beg me to let you cum. You’re gonna tell me how much you need it.”

Your lips part, but before you can respond, Paige presses the knife lightly against your skin again, the threat clear but enticing.

“Do you wanna play?” she asks once more, using the voice changer. But this time, it’s not really a question. It’s more of a demand.

You don’t say anything for a long moment, staying silent. But Paige won’t have that. She takes the handle of the knife, lightly stroking your clothed clit with it, keeping her eyes on your face. Your hips buck up involuntarily at the feeling, and your gaze lands on hers, catching sight of her waiting expression. You sigh in discomfort, wanting more, shifting your hips a little. However, you know she won’t give you any more of what you need if you don’t agree to play her stupid fucking game. So, you kiss your teeth and mutter, “Fine. Let’s play.”

Paige immediately grins at your response, clearly eager for some more excitement (as if her night hasn’t been filled with enough of that already), tossing the voice changer across the room. She leans down, pressing her lips against your hipbone as she twists the knife back around to the sharp end, trailing the tip along your thong teasingly. You feel yourself shudder a little bit at the feeling, glancing down, chin pressing into your chest as you try to get a better look.

And then Paige is effectively ruining more of your clothing, tearing the fabric of your thong apart with the knife. It splits open, revealing your glistening cunt to the blonde.

“Paige—” you begin to protest annoyedly, irritated with her affinity of slashing your clothes apart tonight.

However, her head snaps up to look at you at the sound of your attitude leaking back into your voice. She glares, eyes narrowing as she tells you, “Shut the fuck up. Ion wanna hear none of your attitude bullshit tonight.”

You fight the urge to scoff at her, instead opting to stay quiet. You watch as she hooks her fingers around the flimsy fabric of what’s left of your thong before tossing them to the side, leaving you completely naked before her. Before you can even really process what’s going to happen next, she’s leaning in, her hot breath landing between your legs. But instead of her tongue or her lips making contact with your folds, it’s Paige’s teeth—biting at your clit. You gasp at the sensation, a little taken aback at the mixture of sting and serenity, and you can’t help but let your hand fall to her head to hold her there.

She won’t have that, though.

The feeling of your hand in her hair makes her pull back immediately, making you lose any feeling between your legs. You whimper a little at the loss, but she doesn’t care, slapping your hand away from her head. She grabs at the wrist of the same hand she’s just hit, eyes flashing at you as she pulls your arm back above your head, locking your wrists together with her fingers.

“The fuck did I tell you?” she snaps, glaring pointedly, irritation clearly seeping into her. “Keep your hands up there. Don’t fuckin’ move ’em unless I say so.”

You glare back at her, equally annoyed and turned on by her demands. She’s staring expectantly at you, waiting for a response, her nails digging into your wrists slightly. Eventually, you roll your eyes and cave, muttering, “Fine, Jesus.”

You watch as her eyes narrow at the bratty tone of your voice, though—surprisingly—she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t snap at you again to behave yourself. But she also doesn’t do anything. She removes her hands from your wrists, making sure you keep them up there, but, after that, she doesn’t make herself useful in any way. Instead, she leans back a little, her body still between your parted legs, just staring. She keeps her lips pursed as her eyes flick between your face and your glistening cunt that’s on full display before her, just inches away. You shift your hips a little, hoping she’ll get the message and do something for you, but she doesn’t. She just keeps watching you, eyes tracking the movement of your hips, keeping herself still.

You whine a little, nails digging into the couch armrest above you. “What’re you waiting for?” you finally retort, very annoyed by this point.

However, that annoyance seems to seep out of you pretty quickly as you feel the tip of the knife blade dig into your hip bone, just enough that if Paige pushed it any harder, it would certainly draw blood. You swallow a little, looking up at the blonde, trying to hold your ground.

“Enough with the fuckin’ attitude, ma,” she says firmly, clearly as tired of your shit as you are of here. You feel her begin to trail the blade along your skin slightly, before she’s adding, “And what—you already forgot one of my rules?”

You furrow you eyebrows at the question, not sure what she’s referring to. All you can really feel is the heat between your legs, and the stark cold metal of the knife against your skin.

She clicks her tongue at your obvious confusion, tipping the knife against you, breaking the skin ever so slightly. It doesn’t really hurt, just stings some, and you look down to see the tiniest bit of blood surrounding the cut she’s made, a hint of crimson tainting the silver of the knife. And then Paige is crawling a little forward, so that she’s hovering over you, and you feel yourself shiver beneath her.

She leans closer, her breath hot against your cheek, the cold metal of the knife now grazing along the curve of your jaw, before slowly, deliberately, moving toward your lips. She traces the blade across your lower lip, and you feel the wetness of your own blood against it.

“Open,” she orders, her tone firm, eyes alight with a mixture of control and something more primal.

Your heart races, but you do as she says, parting your lips slightly. The flat of the blade presses against your tongue, leaving the metallic taste of your blood in your mouth. She’s watching you do it intensely, pupils blown and eyes focused. And then she’s pulling it back, teasing you, leaving your body tense and wanting. Her lips quirk into a smirk, clearly pleased with the way your body reacts beneath hers, the power she holds over you.

Then she straightens, pulling the knife away, her expression both playful and commanding as she watches you intently. Her voice is soft, but dripping with authority, “You gotta beg for it, baby.”

You bite your lip, staring defiantly up at Paige, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing you beg. You can see the flicker of frustration in her eyes as her grip on the knife tightens. She leans in, her breath fanning across your skin, but you hold firm, a smirk playing on your lips despite the tension crackling between you. You’re playing with fire, and you know it.

It’s right then where Paige’s patience snaps. Her hand shoots up to grab your jaw, her fingers pressing into your skin, hard enough to hurt some. “You’re being a real bitch tonight,” she husks, eyes narrowing as her thumb brushes over your lower lip. “I think I might just have to punish you for it.”

You can feel your heart race at her words, but you refuse to back down, a flicker of defiance still lingering in your expression, a slight smirk still pulling up your lips.

Paige tilts her head, her grip tightening slightly. “Oh, you think this is funny? You think you can just act like this and get away with it?” she continues, her voice low and controlled, though you can feel the anger bubbling underneath. “Fine. If you won’t beg, then you don’t get to make a single sound.”

You feel your eyes widen without thinking about it, realizing what she’s getting at, but she only smirks at your reaction.

“If you make any noise,” Paige says, leaning in close, her lips brushing the shell of your ear, “then I won’t let you finish. Not tonight. Not tomorrow night. Not until you learn how to fucking behave.” Her voice is dripping with authority, every word hanging between you like a challenge.

You swallow hard, trying to steel yourself, but the way she’s looking at you—like she’s already won this round—makes it difficult. You know she’s pushing your limits, testing just how far she can take this.

She doesn’t wait for you to answer, instead crawling back down your body, keeping your thighs spread open, resting herself between them. Immediately getting to work, probably impatient herself, her mouth attaches to the skin of your inner thigh, sucking harshly, certainly enough to leave a mark for tomorrow. And then she’s kissing her way up to the cut she’s imprinted on your hip, ghosting her tongue along the small sliver of slashed skin and the blood that rests with it. It stings, and you hear yourself gasp, whimpering at the feeling. She’s not fond of that, though, wanting you to stay quiet as she’s told you, so she pinches your thigh hard. You fight to not let the noise that’s burrowed itself in your throat get through, swallowing it down. If you behave, you’ll get what you want—so you might as well just let her have her fun.

She’s getting closer to where you need her, her nose brushing against your clit as she ghosts her lips along the side of your pussy, teasing you. You shift your hips slightly, desperate for the friction you’ve been needing, but her hands grab at each hip bone, holding you down so you stay still.

And then she’s diving in, pressing her tongue to your aching cunt, licking a long stripe right up between your folds. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the long awaited pleasure, keeping silent just as she told you to. She presses her mouth against you completely, enough to feel her every breath on you, rolling her tongue right against your clit.

Paige moans a little against you, sending vibrations through you that have your legs shaking. As she continues rolling her tongue in that famous, miraculous rhythm of hers against your bundle of nerves, one of her hands reaches up to your tit, thumb brushing along the nipple and pinching it.

You bite your lip, finally being a good girl and listening to Paige’s demands like she’s wanted this whole time. You stay silent, though your breaths come quicker, faster, your chest rising and falling rapidly beneath Paige’s hand.

She glances up at you, smirking against you as she catches sight of the beads of sweat forming along your skin, your flushed face, the way you’re fighting to stay quiet. Her tongue slides along the expanse of your slit before slipping inside of you, making your thighs quiver and a tiny gasp to escape your lips. Paige glares up at you warningly at that, making sure you remember well that if you’re not quiet, you’re not cumming.

And then she’s returning her focus back to your pussy, sliding her tongue in and out of you a couple times in a slow rhythm. You can tell she’s enjoying this by the way her eyes slip shut, brows furrowing in concentration. She then brings her mouth back up to your clit, flicking her tongue up and down, up and down, up and down, in a way that makes you see stars. You dig your nails into your palms, squeezing your eyes shut at the euphoric feeling.

“Shit,” Paige mumbles as she pulls away, staring at your soaking cunt before adding to the wetness, spitting on you. She watches her saliva slide between your folds and then leans in to lap it up with her tongue. She moans against you, probably at the taste, saying, “You’re gonna kill me with this pussy, baby. Could eat you forever.”

You let out a long, shaky breath at the words, scrunching your face up a little she sucks on your clit. Hard. You feel her teeth scrape against it, too, and you swear your nails are going to draw blood if you dig them any deeper into your skin.

Breathing heavily, she suddenly pulls up and sits on her knees between your legs, letting go of your hips and pushing your legs further apart. Looking down between them, Paige is suddenly thrusting three of her fingers into you without any warning. You can’t help it—it makes you shudder out something between a moan and a gasp, exclaiming, “Fuck!”

Paige won’t have that for a second, immediately pulling her fingers out of you to slap your pussy. “Shut the fuck up,” she tells you, biting along your skin as she slowly crawls up to your face again. “Can’t ever fuckin’ listen to me, can you?” she asks, her fingers trailing to your clit, circling it harshly. It makes your legs shudder and shake and you feel your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Couldn’t help it,” you murmur, gasping as you feel the heat in your stomach begin to rise, the coil getting ready to snap.

Paige’s fingers find their way back inside you, all three of them pumping. Your pussy squelches with her relentless pace, the sounds beyond filthy. Her other hand has found it’s way back to your throat, fingers wrapping around your neck, your pulse racing against her hand. “Don’t lie,” she snaps, eyes flitting between your face and the way her fingers are thrusting into you with absolutely no mercy. “You’re not a bitch, I’ve seen you take worse.”

You whimper a little at her words and it only makes her fingers speed up, sliding in and out and then curling in a come hither motion, making you see stars. “Y’know, Kelsey wanted to fuck me,” Paige taunts. Your eyes flash open at the words, the same flare of jealousy and anger rushing into you as remember the night at the bar. Realistically, you know you shouldn’t still care, especially as your gaze darts to see a quick glance of Kelsey’s dead body across the room. But, still, Paige’s words send a rush of irritation through you. She can tell, and she smirks, her thumb now abusing your clit as her fingers continue their pace. “You think she coulda kept quiet? Think she woulda been a good girl for me? She seemed very sweet.”

“She’s dead,” you grunt out, trying not to let Paige’s words get in the way of the feeling of her fingers in you, on you. “So I guess you’ll never know.”

That makes Paige’s hand squeeze your neck a little, enough for you to cry out at the dual sensation of that and her thrusting fingers. It’s all getting too much, the heat building as Paige’s pace keeps steady, your hips rising to meet her digits as they pump in and out. “Fuck, you make me crazy,” the blonde says, her lips trailing to your neck to suck a mark against your skin. “Such a brat, baby.”

The sensation between your legs has you forgetting Paige’s rules, and you think that at this point, she’s forgotten them, too, because your hands are moving from above your head to tangle in her ponytail, tugging as her fingers curl inside you. She doesn’t do anything to stop you, instead humming against your neck.

“P,” you manage to gasp out, voice shaking. You’re faintly aware that you’re sweating, your hair sticking sticking to your damp forehead and neck, your whole body pulsing with heat. “Paige, ‘m gonna cum.”

Paige nods against you, her tongue swiping against the hollow of your throat, her fingers thrusting and thrusting and thrusting. Vaguely, you wonder if her hand is cramping yet. “I know, baby,” she says a little breathlessly, against your skin. “Come on, ma, give it to me. Wanna feel it bad.”

You let out a shaky cry, hands finding their way beneath Paige’s shirt, nails digging into her back, certainly leaving scratch marks. Every thrust, every breath that Paige takes against your skin—it’s all too much, and you can feel herself teetering on the edge of your orgasm, the pleasure building with every second.

And then you’re moaning out, “Oh my God—fuck!” as the coil within you snaps, your back arching against Paige’s hand, your heart racing. “Fuck,” you say again, quieter this time, trying to blink away the stars in your vision.

Your breath comes in quick bursts as you slowly come down from your high, feeling a euphoric mixture of adrenaline and warmth coursing through your veins. You lean back against the couch cushions, now damp with blood and your own arousal, your skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. Paige presses further into you, her breath hot and feverish against your neck, and you feel her say your name against your skin. And then she’s slowly pulling her fingers out of your soaking cunt, trailing them up to your mouth as she draws back slightly.

She slips them past your lips and you let her, mouth sucking her fingers clean, tongue gliding along her digits. The way her eyes glaze over watching you do it, lust filling her pupils, makes you think that you’re about to get fucked into oblivion for a round two. But then her gaze trails somewhere behind your head—probably to Kelsey’s dead body, if you had to guess—and she’s sighing, resigned, as she pulls her fingers from your mouth, tangling them in your hair. She presses her lips against yours firmly for just a moment, before she’s pulling away, saying, a smirk pulling the corners of her lips up, “We gotta go before they catch us.”

You frown a little, pouting as you say, “Fun’s over.”

She shakes her head slightly at you, still smirking as she responds, “Nah, when we get home, we can have all the fun you want.” And then she’s reaching down onto the floor, grabbing the ghostface mask and slipping it over your head, covering your face. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You slip into your clothes quickly, watching as Paige grabs the knife and checks around the room to see if either of you have forgotten anything. Once you’re ready, the two of you open the apartment door, leaving your mess for someone to find later. However, you and Paige leave, she of course does not forget to call out into the empty apartment, “Bye, Kelsey!”

The door slams shut behind you, and, obviously, there is no response back.

[noxtivagus]

GOOD MORNING going out w my family today ehe 🫶🏼

[notaboypossiblyagenius]

And when I call, you come home — E. Prentiss

warnings: depictions of blood, r has a pretty bad injury (a gunshot), angst, so much angst, no use of yn, technically no death, i’ve never seen snow, idk how it works so this is probably inaccurate, that’s not my problem tho. no happy ending, but whatever happens after the ending is up to you not me mwuahaha

wc: ~1,400

a/n: thank you to the sweetest ever @emilys-bangs for proofreading, shes getting many forehead kisses. i wrote this whilst listening to i know the end by phoebe bridgers. that’s all i’m gonna say.

let me know what you think, pretty please :3 comments, reblogs, and feedback are so super very appreciated!

In any other situation, the sight of snow resting on Emily’s eyelashes and the rosy hue coloring her cheeks would have made you smile. But now, the contrast of pink against Emily’s pale skin was akin to the blood seeping into the snow beneath your thigh.

"Take a deep breath." The words echoed in your mind just before the piercing pain of pressure shot up your leg. You gritted your teeth and inhaled sharply, unsure whether to feel relieved or terrified that your leg had gone numb.

“I’m sorry, ‘m so sorry,” Emily muttered, her voice tight as she tied the sleeve she'd torn from her jacket around your leg, the makeshift tourniquet pulling painfully. Through the haze of agony, you could catch a glimpse of her expression—a flicker of apology behind her determined gaze. A sheen layer of sweat covered your forehead as the last traces of color drained from your face. Your lips quivered in the biting cold, and suddenly, it felt like the tree you were propped against was sinking its teeth into your back.

The sound of blood rushing through your ears made it difficult to discern the sounds around you, but what you could hear was Emily barking desperate commands into her communication device. Your vision blurred, and you could barely make out her crouched form, her hand trembling slightly as it held the sleeve in place.

Your eyelids grew heavier with each blink, and your ragged breaths became slower. In any other situation, Emily might have thought you were simply falling asleep, but she knew better now. She knew you couldn’t. Her cold hands patted your cheeks frantically, the rough texture of her calloused palms scratching at your skin, but you didn’t have the energy to protest.

“Hey! Hey, stay with me,” she urged, her voice taut with fear, her eyes wide as she searched your face for signs of fading consciousness. “Keep your eyes open. Keep ‘em on me.” You tried—God, you tried to keep your focus on her, to cling to the anchor of her presence like you always had. But the pain was loud, the adrenaline had long since drained from your body, and all you wanted to do was succumb to the temptation of sweet relief your brain was offering.

“Hurts like hell,” you mumbled, your trembling hand reaching for her wrist. Your fingers weakly closed around her skin, the pressure barely there, but Emily felt it—she felt you hanging on, even if only by a thread.

“I know, I know,” she soothed, her voice cracking ever so slightly as she leaned closer. “But you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Your grip tightened subtly, a silent gesture. Of what? She couldn’t tell. But in that moment, she took it as a lifeline, clinging to the hope that you were still fighting.

“Where the hell are the medics?!” she shouted into the mic on her wrist, her lips pulling back in a snarl, frustration and fear overtaking her composure. You had spent hours studying Emily's face in quiet moments, memorizing every nuance—the slight crease in her brow, the tiny twitch in her eye. So when you saw those familiar signs of distress, you knew things were bad.

“What is it?” you croaked, forcing the words through your dry throat, fighting to stay conscious. Emily pressed her palm against her forehead, trying desperately to keep it together for your sake. But with your blood seeping into her hands, the icy air cutting through her lungs, and the knowledge that the paramedics couldn’t reach you, she felt like she was on the verge of breaking.

“The roads are icy. The medics... they can’t get to us.” Her voice wavered, betraying the terror she was trying so hard to suppress. You closed your eyes, a silent curse slipping through your cold lips followed by a shiver.

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” she said, her voice shaking. You looked at her and she looked up at the darkening sky, sending a silent prayer to the one she hadn’t talked to in years. She licked her lips, inhaling deeply as if the cold air could steady her nerves. She looked back down at you, taking in the face she’d memorized over the years. The face she’d walk through hell for.

“They,” She began, her voice betraying the fear that coursed through her. the fear of not being able to do enough for you. “They’re not that far out.” She looked out into the woods, perhaps towards the road? you couldn’t tell. “We can meet them,” She assured, squeezing your hand.

You shook your head, you were more than appreciative for her stubbornness. She never knew when to stop; but, you were tired.

“No..” you shuddered, a faint smile on your lips as if you were trying to ease the hard to swallow pill you were about to shove in her mouth. “I— I can’t feel my leg, Emily.”

Emily’s face dropped and a bitter taste flooded her senses. She had two options, she could either let the fear paralyze her or she could paralyze her fear and save you—It was a no brainer.

She wrapped a hand around your left wrist, tucking her head under your arm. You winced in surprise, your sore muscles pulsing, reacting to her touch.

“Emily—” your protest died on your lips as she hooked her right arm under your non-injured leg, effectively distributing your weight across her shoulders as she stood.

A fireman’s carry, the most basic skill taught and practiced at the academy. A carry executed during sparring sessions and physical tests. A carry that she had associated with giggles and kicks as she used it to get you from her couch to her bed when you’d fall asleep. After years in the field, she’d finally applied it outside of a controlled environment, but as she took heavy-footed steps through the snow she wanted to close her eyes and be back in her living room. She wanted nothing more than for you to throw punches as you giggled and protested to be put down.

Her shoulders dug into your chests and stomach, the feeling making your breath ragged again. You didn’t know how long you’d been walking for, everything had blurred together after the bullet tore through your thigh.

"We're almost there," she promised, her voice steady despite the tremor in her breath. Her fingers dug into your leg, the pressure of her grip grounding you as the wail of sirens screamed in the distance, growing louder with every step she took. The dark stain of your blood seeped through her jacket, a vivid reminder of the weight she carried—not just your body, but the possibility of your life slipping through her hands. Every step was agony, her muscles burning with the strain.

The flashing of red and blue came into view and she could feel tears stinging in her eyes. She could hear Morgan yelling her name, and as his figure got closer she almost yelled at him for being in her way. Her legs gave out under her, and she placed you on the ground as gently as she could. “She’s concious—She’s concious but she’s lost a lot of blood, I—” She rambled, her hands holding yours impossibly tight. The paramedics surrounded the both of you, and Emily was afraid to let go. Afraid that this would be the last time she held you.

She pleaded with the stars above that they would consider her, that for once in her life they’d consider her. She felt you squeeze her hand back and that made her all the more reluctant to let go. But she couldn’t be selfish. she couldn’t do that to you.

“Prentiss! Woah, Prentiss! Let her go, you’ve done enough.” Derek’s voice cut through the haze that had overcome her, His hands enveloping her as she watched the paramedics take over.

Everything else seemed to blur together, is this what it’d been like for you?

After some back and forth with one of the paramedics, she gave in to being checked out. Derek sat next to her as she pulled the thermal blanket closer to herself, the thought of your blood being on her hands—figuratively and literally—made her shiver, though she chalked it up to the cold.

“She’s going to make it, Emily.” Derek voiced, but how could he know? He had no way of knowing, neither did she. She watched the sirens grow distant from the spot where she sat, all she could do was hope she’d done enough for you.

[stayconnecteed]

🪐˓⠀˚⠀the arrival⠀@⠀seven.

synopsys: nobody knew you were going to the wedding, and it really was a last minute decision, but you simply couldn't miss such an event in your little sister's life. your arrival, though, changed the dinner plans of your mother, and with a free night, some of the groom's men decided to celebrate late the new year ahead of them.

SEE MORE.⠀⠀⠀⠀10 . 6 k words⠀⠀skz mlist.⠀⠀monday .ᐟ

⠀⠀⸺⠀⠀pairing ★ han jisung x afab!reader x lee felix.

⠀⠀⸺⠀⠀genres ★ non!idol au, wedding au ; friends to lovers, strangers to lovers, roommates to lovers, one bed trope, oblivious to love (idiots to lovers), it kind of starts as a love triangle but, polyamory.

⠀⠀⸺⠀⠀sunday's warnings ★ first chapter! this is more like an introduction, but still : mentions of insecurities, social anxiety, theraphy - selfharm is mentioned too but no one actually does it - and bad relationship w parents (reader's mother is the villain, yes). also, alcohol consumption, slightly drunk decisions - they still can consent tho. as for the smut part today is male on male action, kissing, hickeys, the usual + oral, protected sex.

⠀⠀⸺⠀⠀author's note ★ hehe. you'll see. this is for the jilix girlies out there (neutral intended tho). i'M SO EXCITED! also, this is my first time writing m x m sex so i'm absolutely sorry if it makes no sense :((

⠀⠀⸺⠀⠀credits ★ mdni banner by @cafekitsune + warnings : if any under 18 / ageless acc interacts with this series i'll block them.

There was no cereal left when Jisung emerged from his assigned room, his mind occupied with the craving for a snack, wrapped in one of his most recurrent hoodies and with his pyjama bottoms hanging off his hips. For a moment he stood in the middle of the kitchen, frowning at the opened cupboard where he was sure he had left the box ーno cereals on the insideー as if the cause of all the world's misfortunes lurked behind the wooden door. He had just woken up, he couldn't process such an important loss when he barely had two functioning brain cells.

He had stayed up so late that he had been able to go out and watch the sunrise on the beautiful terrace in the living room. The jet lag was draining all the energy he'd been able to store up from the few hours he'd slept on the plane, and although he didn't know what time it was, the fact that there was no sign of Felix ーthe door to his room open, the bed unmade, but no sleeping blondeー meant it was past noon. And all he wanted was a bowl of cereal and milk, but apparently the flat where the Bhangs had placed them was haunted and would deny him the option of a quiet breakfast.

It was unfair. Especially since he had made the trip for him, his best friend, Chan, who was finally getting married. And of course he had enough money to pay for all the expenses for a week of celebrations but not for a single box of cereal for one of his best men. It was unfair. Maybe he did have some in his flat, that selfish Aussie. Jisung knew he was staying with his fiancée on the first floor, so he would just have to take the elevator and sneak into his apartment, carefully checking the kitchen until he found the cereal. It seemed like a perfect plan, so he walked back to his room, slipped on a pair of sneakers without even tying the laces, put on his headphones with the latest playlist he'd been listening to, and left the flat, leaving the door open.

Another reason why the situation was unfair: Chan's parents were filthy rich. They owned a luxury resort and several flat blocks in Sydney, where the event was to be held, and had decided to close the buildings for the week and accommodate the guests there. He knew that the property they were in was the closest to his friend's parents' home, something about Chan being able to visit Berry anytime he felt like doing so, and was also where the bride and groom and their closest guests ーbridesmaids and best men, plus other friendsー were staying. That included Jisung, who was sharing an apartment with Felix, the other Aussie in their group, and the terrible absence of chocolate cereal.

That meant that there was no need to lock the doors. Besides the fact that he was perfectly capable of forgetting the key inside, the only people who could get in were people he knew, people he trusted, so they treated the whole building like a big house. Which was a crucial part of his plan to steal Chan's cereal. He walked slowly to the lift, trying to wake up, rubbing his eyes to make the sleep fade away, and pressed the button for the first floor. The ride was fairly short, and once he arrived in front of the apartment door he completely ignored the “do not disturb” sign and went straight to the kitchen.

He had already achieved almost half of the plan. With Post Malone's ‘Sunflower’ blaring through his headphones, every step he took felt like Miles Morales at the beginning of his movie: nothing could go wrong. He had to open the cupboards one by one, because the distribution of food was different depending on who was living on which floor, but he couldn't hide the victorious smile that escaped his lips when he finally found them. Yeah, the brand was not the same he usually had, but brands were different in Australia, after all. And Chan had a very similar box of his cereals hidden in the kitchen between empty cabinets. He scoffed, what were those two eating? Each other?

Oh, God. Maybe they were. He had ignored the sign at the door because he had thought they were sleeping... But his little incursion could actually end up really messed up if his friends turned out to be tangled in the sheets. He was grateful to have the music blasting in his ears, just in case Chan and his fiancée were really, reaally busy, as he searched for a bowl in utter silence. After burying his head in the fridge in search of milk, and getting hold of a spoon, he sat at the newly refurbished kitchen island, watching TikToks with an absent minded air, enjoying the taste of chocolate on his tongue, humming contentedly.

It was the first time he was going to spend New Year's separated from his family. When Jisung had received the beautiful white letter with gold details in which Chan and your sister invited him to their expected wedding, he had accepted without hesitation. They were perfect together, and he wouldn’t miss such an important moment in their lives. Then, talking it over with Felix, he had realised that the ceremony would be in Australia, and that the festivities would last almost a week, starting on the third of January. It seemed like he would have a great time, but he had spent New Year's Eve on the plane, sleeping, instead of celebrating with his brother and parents, and he had certainly missed them a bit.

It was not the first time he had travelled to the hometown of his Aussie friends, but he never ceased to be amazed by the radical change of season it was to board the plane in Incheon, with the city covered in a thin layer of white snow, only to arrive in Sydney, and watch the seaside city stretch its lazy fingers towards the sun in a warm climate. Weather worked backwards there, blizzards decorating the summer and welcoming Santa Claus with a tropical setting straight out of the Caribbean. Jisung had missed the Australian Christmas that Felix talked so much about, but he didn't feel like going for a walk on the beach either. Not yet, anyway. 

He had actually been hiding in his room for almost two days, and he didn't think anyone could blame him. It was a change, and like all changes, he needed time to get used to it. Listening to his roommate share how much fun he'd had in the waves, hanging out with his family on the day they'd been in town, was enough for him. The big smile on Felix's face made him feel much better. And the chocolate cereal was a big help, as was spending the night watching old K-dramas. Startles, for example, were not.

And so when he noticed movement in his field of vision and looked up to see Chan, shorts dangling from his hips, hand on his bare chest and staring at him as if he'd just broken into his house ーwhich was so not trueー, he was so frightened that he nearly spat the cereal onto the counter. He started coughing like crazy after swallowing hard, and Chan ran over to pat him on the back, helping the air flow normally through his lungs again. He took off his headphones, and while the music was still audible coming out of the speakers, because he always listened to his songs louder than recommended, they heard your sister's sore voice from the bedroom asking Chan if everything was all right.

“I am, baby!” he answered, looking at Jisung with a raised eyebrow. “Jisung seems to have choked on our cereal, though”.

“Jisung?”

“Hi!” he managed to mutter, still trying to regulate his breathing completely.

“He is raiding our kitchen!”

“I am not!”

“Let him get some cereal, Channie!” protested his fiancée, and Jisung stuck his tongue out childishly at his friend, knowing he had your sister's protection. “I'm sure he didn't have the opportunity to buy anything to eat yesterday.”.

“If he eats something now he won't be hungry at dinner, and you know how your mother gets if there's food left over!”

That was Jisung's life since Chan had started dating her. Before he was the child, cared for by the elders of the group, certainly suffering some friendly bullying that he didn't complain about, and trying to raise a laugh whenever he could. Now he was the son of the old married couple in love. They were not yet married per se, but they had been acting that way for some time. And he had been the lucky one who had not only gotten the privilege of Minho hyung having a soft spot in him, but your sister had one too, and that made him untouchable if they were around.

“But there is still plenty of time for dinner,” Jisung said, pitifully.

“No, there’s not,” replied the Aussie, frowning. “Dinner’s in an hour and a half.”

“Really?” he exclaimed, rushing to his phone to check that Chan wasn't trying to trick him. “I was looking forward to breakfast!”

“You can finish your cereal if you want, but it's already eight something.”

“Well, dude, you were still in bed, so what are you talking about? ‘Eight something' is too late for a nap, I don't know what...” Jisung opened his eyes wide when he saw the way his hyung was blushing and couldn't help but cover them as he got confirmation of what he had assumed they were doing. “Oh, no, I didn't want to know, God, you didn't have to tell me! What is wrong with you!”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Your ears are red!”

Chan seemed ready to defend himself, opening his mouth to explain that he couldn't control his reactions, but then your sister let out a scream. He saw his friend's body tense up, brow furrowing again ーthis time tilted with worryー and he burst out running back to his room, so Jisung had no choice but to follow. It was his adoptive mom who had just screamed, and also his adoptive mom who was wrapped in sheets, beaming a glowing smile that had nothing to do with the shriek she had just let out, her phone lit up in her hands.

“Baby, we have to cancel today’s dinner.”

“Do not do that again, please” Chan pleaded, holding his hand to his chest again, feeling his racing heart under his fingertips. “Enough scares for today.”

“Sorry” she mumbled, sheepishly. “But! Look, my sister just texted me!”

“Your sister?”

“Yes!” she confirmed, setting the phone down on the mattress and bending slightly to pick up a shirt from the floor.

Jisung felt really uncomfortable as he realised that he had caught them unknowingly, and that he had been eating cereal while they were there… naked, doing stuff.

“She never replied if she was going to be able to come to the wedding,” Chan said, approaching his fiancée to gossip about the message she had received.

“Because she wanted it to be a surprise” she explained, shaking her fists in the same adorable way Chan did when he tasted a really good dish. “But she couldn't let Mom know she was coming, because you know how she'd get, so she just got to the airport and doesn't know where she has to go.”

“And we just call off dinner?” asked the groom, his eyes widening in horror. “Your mother is going to have a heart attack. Besides, what do we do about the announcement?”

It did feel like he was witnessing a random conversation between his own parents. For a moment, they hadn't even realised they were talking in front of him, too busy reading each other with their gazes, and Jisung just hoped that this announcement they were talking about wasn't a pregnancy. They would make great parents, but he wasn't ready to have a little brother.

“After a flight of so many hours, she's going to want to rest. Dinner and the announcement can wait, as can my mother. It's our wedding, and you know what my sister means to me,” she stated, clearly determined. “Don't mention what the plans were, anyway, please. I know she'd feel terrible if she thought she screwed anything up, especially if my mother had organised it.”

“Don't worry. We can make the announcement tomorrow at lunch, when she's rested. Now let's go pick her up.” he replied, caressing her shoulder gently. Then he glanced quickly towards Jisung, catching his attention. “Hey, Ji, this is your chance. You come with us and we stop at a supermarket on the way back? Cereal's on me.”

Who was Jisung to reject free food?

Jisung had only met you once, but he remembered every single detail with precision.

It had been at a birthday party a little over two years ago. Chan was turning 29, and everyone was nervous because they didn't know how he would take the surprise party his girlfriend had thrown for him - he had never liked being the centre of attention. However, all Chan could think about was how nervous he was because his girl had told him she wanted to introduce him to her sister. Jisung had thought that the sister thing was a trick to make Chan go to the place where all his friends were gathered, but it turned out that you had shown up too.

From what Chan had told him, meeting your partner's parents was an important but stressful time. After all, most people place a high value on their parents' opinion when it comes to introducing them to the person they have fallen in love with, and all you want, as the person introduced, is to be liked. The dinner that the Aussie had attended could not have had a better outcome, with her mother smiling excitedly at him and his father hugging them goodbye. Although the mother was rather peculiar and Chan had heard too many stories about her, he had finally managed to win them over.

It hadn't been difficult because Chan's real problem had always been you, the older sister. The heiress of the family business who had taken the position of CEO upon your father's retirement. The devoted daughter who had sacrificed her adolescence to raise the youngest in the family, trying to follow your mother's strict guidelines without complaint. Your sister adored you, and appreciated everything you had done for her, and Chan knew that if there was anyone he should win over, it was you. So even though his girlfriend had assured him that you were a very shy and sweet girl, the aura of perfection that you radiated when your sister spoke your name had made him feel insecure.

And Jisung hadn't been able to help but feel the same. His heart had been racing with the erratic rhythm he felt before an exam he hadn't studied hard enough for, anxiety bubbling in his chest. It wasn't helping Chan calm down, and he didn't know why it was affecting him so much, but he couldn't stop the choking feeling. He'd known all his friends since they were little, and slowly their lives were settling in, becoming adults, while he felt like he was still the same loser teenager he'd always been. Besides, he didn't see a future where Chan wouldn't end up with his current girlfriend, and while he hadn't found it hard to feel comfortable in her presence, meeting her sister was different.

It was more serious. It involved opening up the group to outsiders, and Jisung hated change. But he had stood frozen as your sister flashed her trademark big smile, raising her arm to wave at you, beckoning you to come closer. He had watched you move through the crowd in your light dress pants, framing your waist with a thin belt, your loose hair floating with every step. Elegant, regal, classic. Straight out of a fashion magazine, perhaps from the section on looks to wear as a businesswoman. Jisung didn't even know what exactly had crossed his mind at the moment.

He had felt Chan deflate beside him, as blowfish out of danger, but he was still tense, his body a bowstring. He had tried to do the same, to relax, of course, while your gaze was fixed on his friend, but the only result had been to run out of air. Then he had focused on your sister, who gave off an infectious cheerful energy, and repeated to himself that if she was capable of looking at you that way, like you hung the stars on the sky, you couldn't be all that dangerous. He knew Chan's girlfriend, and while it was true that she trusted very easily, you were sisters. It was impossible for you not to have some of her kindness.

At least until Chan had uttered his name, introducing him as his best friend and co-worker, and then you looked at him. And the rest of the party had ceased to exist around you. His feet seemed unable to move, nailed to the spot where he had stopped to drink before he knew you were coming into his life. Your gaze was sharp over him, analysing him. He bowed slightly as he felt Chan's hand on his back, to acknowledge your presence and show some respect, but he could only take a relieved breath of air when your eyes stopped wandering over him, your attention back on whatever it was your sister was telling you about.

You hadn't spoken to each other. You had murmured a faint ‘hello’, but Jisung had never gotten around to responding ーat least not using his voiceー, so he had no conversation to evoke except the liquid embarrassment that still created shivers in its wake as he remembered the fool he had made of himself. He had merely looked at you like a child did with a toy, but through a glass, him on the street and you looking unreachable in your display window. At least, he hoped so. That you hadn't noticed, of course, but in case you had, that your image of him was that of a bashful boy who was nervous around you. 

He wanted to think that if he had looked creepy, Chan would have told him, even your sister would have told him. God, and he didn't think of you as an object either, the toy thing was a silly metaphor. Besides, more than nervousness, it really looked like raw anxiety. He didn’t really know if the way his heart had been racing was out of fear or shyness, but Minho had told him that it was obvious you had had a clear effect on him, even if he didn’t want to admit it. He just knew he still kept making a fool of himself in his own mind every time he thought of you.

That was why he couldn't possibly allow himself to be with you in the same car, with no chance to run away as soon as he started to feel awkward. The most sensible thing to do, anyway, would be not to get into the car at all ーhe was already feeling awkward just thinking about itー, but he would have to give explanations that he wasn't prepared to utter out loud. And Jisung would rather swallow his anxiety and pretend to be civilised in Chan's car than admit that he had been thinking about you too often for two years.

The surprise reflected in your beautiful narrowed eyes indicated that you did not expect that the first person you would see when you looked up would be none other than Han Jisung. He knew it, and he wasn't taking it to heart because after all, the one you had sent the message to was your sister. You were the spitting image of bewilderment, your expression of confusion turning into a frown until you spotted your sister behind his back and he saw you flash a smile he had never seen curving your lips before. The sting of feeling ignored cried in his chest, but he understood. You spent your life travelling, he didn't even know when was the last time you had seen each other.

Chan and he faded into the background as you hugged your little sister, murmuring greetings and 'I love you's in the arms of what you considered home, and Jisung stared at the disarranged way your dress had wrinkled at its bottom. You had been waiting sitting on the floor, legs crossed, your suitcase standing next to you, an image that contrasted with the neat way you had styled your hair, the expensive-looking dress you wore bringing luminosity to your face. You were slightly taller than Jisung thanks to the esparto sandals you had slipped on before taking a cab to the airport, but all he could think about was your smile.

The same one you addressed to him with an embarrassed curve once you separated from your sister, out of her embrace but still with your arms entwined, when the excitement of being with her again dissipated.

“Sorry for not saying hi” you said, your tone clear but warm. You nodded in his direction, pronouncing his name slowly, as if savouring it, and then went over to give Chan a quick hug ーno doubt having more familiarity with him than with Jisung.

“Do you remember Ji?” your sister asked, just as surprised as he was, as she led you to where her fiancé had parked.

“Of course! Chan's shy friend” you answered, smacking Chan playfully in the arm when he tried to take your suitcase. “No offence.”

“None taken.”

So you actually remembered him, and he wasn't creepy in your memories. Jisung had to suppress the smile that crawled into his lips just thinking about it.

“Do you remember me?” you said, raising an eyebrow with a teasing hint in your voice.

He wanted to scream that he did, his enthusiasm threatening with revealing the gradual way he was realising you weren’t as dangerous as he had thought, but he breathed before talking, “Yeah, definitely. Chan’s famous sister in law.”

“Famous?”

“Well, your sister doesn’t shut up about you, so it seems a reasonable adjective,” intervened Chan, saving Jisung some time to compose himself.

After two years he was talking with you, you two were having a proper conversation. It was amazing.

“Aww, my little sister can’t stop mentioning me?” you joked, an airy giggle escaping your lips. But the subtext was clear to Jisung, that comment had meant a lot more to you that you wanted to let on.

“Well, it’s not my fault you appear to be related to half the topics I talk about.”

Both sisters bursted out laughing, leaning into each other like two old trees in the park, and Chan opened his car, helping you lift your suitcase and bags into the trunk while your sister called dibs as passenger princess. Jisung had assumed the position he had before, in the seat behind the driver, and waited until you had sat next to him and Chan had started the engine to remind his friend of his promise.

“No worries, mate, I’ll get you your cereals,” he reassured him, chuckling under his breath.

“You didn’t have a proper breakfast for your guests this morning, sir?” you joked, earning an embarrassed laugh from your soon to be brother-in-law. Then Jisung saw you scoot over in your seat with your arms resting on your sister’s backseat, and ask, “Does Mom know I’m here?”

“I didn’t tell her anything, why?”

You cleared your throat, your brows furrowing with worry, “Last time I saw her, we argued. Like, a lot.”

Jisung tried to make himself busy looking through the window, averting his eyes from you two as he heard your sister whisper a fearful ‘Again?’, feeling like he was intruding on a conversation too private for his ears. Luckily, Chan surely had been thinking the same thing, because he pulled into the first free space he could find, quickly parking in the echoing silence that had fallen over the four of them, and with a strained smile signalled Jisung to get out of the car. He didn't even utter a word, just grabbed the keys, placed a sweet kiss on his fiancée's cheek, and joined his friend outside.

“They need time to talk about it” he said, like it would explain everything. Jisung nodded. “I think there’s a Wollies five minutes away, let’s go.”

If Jisung had to be honest, he hadn't actually noticed your mother. He knew who she was, but the first time he had seen her was at the engagement party she had organised for her daughter and Chan a few months ago. She had struck him as a serious but kind woman, who had not once dropped her smile during the entire event. Jisung supposed, in retrospect, that that detail was slightly incriminating, but only if she could be accused of being somewhat forced.

But in the short time that had passed since he had left the comfort of his bed until that very moment, every comment he had heard about her had helped him confirm an opinion that backed up the occasional ‘She’s crazy, mate’ that Chan had repeated in front of him so many times in his fast-paced English conversations with Felix, the thick Australian accent spilling out of every word.

Then he heard Chan sigh.

“This week is going to be hell for them.”

Jisung had never paid attention so fast before, “What do you mean?”

“We knew the wedding was going to be difficult with their mother around, but she didn’t want to leave her out of it” he muttered, as if guilt was eating him alive for sharing intimate matters of his fiancée's family life.

“You've got yourself a very sweet girl, hyung,” his comment brought a soft curve to Chan’s lips, just thinking of your sister's gentle soul, and all the times he'd had the opportunity to witness it. And then he sighed again.

“When her sister didn’t RSVP’d, I totally understood it, and even if it had hurt her, she did too because it was the best for everyone” he continued, guiding Jisung through the streets of his hometown effortlessly. “And even though his mother is probably the reason she is still going to therapy, she showed up so she could attend our wedding. I will be eternally grateful to her just for the look of happiness on my fiancée's face now that they are together.”

Therapy. You could go to therapy for many reasons. Jisung went once a month to help his anxiety, to vent about topics he didn't feel able to share with anyone. And although the day before, the morning of the session and even five minutes before he felt that he was drowning in the uneasiness of someone who has the feeling of facing a periodic exam, although the hour and a half with his psychologist turned him into a sensitive mess of tears and lonely puzzle pieces, that night he always slept better. Therapy helped. Jisung was glad you had that escape route.

“She has had no physical incidents,” Chan said. She has not attempted suicide, Jisung translated. “But I shouldn't have said anything anyway. It's one thing to trust you to talk freely about whatever, and another to share such sensitive personal information about someone without asking their permission.”

Jisung had always admired Chan, but now he felt proud of him, of his ability to keep his moral compass intact. He had to admit, with shameful embarrassment, that he wouldn't have been able to ask him to shut up if he had continued talking. Every piece of information about you seemed addictive to him, like adding emotional depth to a character who had been mentioned for several seasons but had never learned anything about. Chan had just shown him cracks in the smooth porcelain you decided to show as perfection, and now he wasn't going to be able to look at you without seeing you.

Chan put an arm around Jisung’s shoulders, a gesture of affection that he never tired of showing, and he realised that they had already arrived at the supermarket.

“Anyways, let’s go get you some cereal, hm?”

Felix had two empty shot glasses in front of him when Jisung arrived at the Perfect Blues resort bar. He hadn't even looked at his phone since he had walked with Chan into the Woolworths closest to where you and your sister were waiting for them, but when he returned to the apartment with his box of cereal and some more snacks, he saw the notification he had missed it.

‘Hyung just cancelled dinner, wanna hang out?’

Jisung had smiled, thinking he would find the blond Aussie waiting for him in his room, but his absence was obvious, and the catastrophic state of the bathroom told him that he had taken a quick shower after spending the day at the beach and had decided to start without him.

It didn't bother him. Jisung always declined invitations to meet after dinnertime, generally because he felt he was much better off at home, with his belly full and falling asleep in front of his favorite TV show. Often his friend Minho would join him, but generally Jisung liked the quiet of the night. If there was anyone he was capable of breaking his comfortable routine, however, it was Felix. He had been called a simp too many times to avoid acknowledging that he would do anything for his best friend. Even stay best friends, even if his heart asked for more.

Walking to the resort pub where the dinner would have been held had been tricky because he couldn't quite figure out how to use the Maps app on his phone, but once he spotted Felix in the crowd, sitting at the bar but bouncing to the beat of the music the DJ was playing behind him, his shoulders relaxed. Jisung approached his friend with a big smile which the blond lazily returned, and he repressed the urge to wrap him in a hug by way of greeting. Normally they were very affectionate with each other, but the alcohol would bubble up way too easily for them, and that meant Felix would be clingier than usual. Jisung could accept a certain amount of physical contact with his crush before the certainty that it wasn't reciprocated overwhelmed him.

One thing at a time.

“What can I get you?” the bartender intervened between them before they could exchange a word, his accent thick and his gaze soft, and Jisung wondered if he was Chan's cousin.

“Whatever he was having,” he replied hurriedly, trying not to blush. Jisung didn't understand why talking to strangers made him so embarrassed. The man seemed nice. “Oh, and a glass of water, please,” he added. Given the hours it was, Felix would have time to sober up before leaving the place.

“How was your day?” he asked the blond, sitting down on the free stool next to him and leaning slightly towards Felix to hear him better.

But Felix seemed in a world of his own, watching him carefully and squinting.

“You have a mole on your cheek,” he whispered, and Jisung had to steady his grip on the bar to keep from falling over, his palm stretched out on the surface condensed by drinks that had already been removed, when his heart skipped a beat in his chest at his words, “That's why I like to give you kisses there.”

I wish I had a mole on my lips, Jisung thought, but he widened his smile. That wasn't Felix talking. He was just drunk. All there was to do was be patient and nice, because it was obvious to him that Felix didn't have a clue about half the words that came out of his mouth. Jisung had been in his shoes, he knew the lack of control that came with alcohol.

“That's cute,” he told him, resting a hand on his thigh to draw Felix into his voice so he'd understand what he was saying. “How was your day? I didn't see you today.”

“It's just that Hyune wanted to learn how to surf,” he explained, his knee moving under Jisung's hand to the rhythm of the beat. “We woke up early and ate out.”

Jisung was startled when the bartender set down a clean shot glass in front of him and picked up the bottle of whatever Felix had been drinking ーvodka, though he didn't like itー, refilling it at an overwhelming speed.

“Sorry it took so long, but I had to go get it inside,” he exclaimed, to make himself heard over the music, picking up a regular glass and setting it down in front of Felix. “His is on the owners, because of the wedding," he added, emptying in the glass a small bottle of water, which he opened in front of them, "yours is on me."

Jisung blushed again as the bartender gave him a playful wink, muttering a quiet ‘thank you’ in response, and he couldn't help but check what he'd put on to get his attention like that. He'd barely had time to change out of his pajamas when he'd arrived at the apartment, so he'd grabbed the first thing he'd seen in the suitcase lying open on the floor of his room. It was nothing special. Oversize dark jeans and a yellow and black plaid shirt three times his size. Maybe it had too many buttons undone. Changbin always complained because he had another friend who did the same thing. But Wooyoung did it on purpose, Jisung just forgot.

Felix whined, breaking his train of thought, and tugged on Jisung's long shirt sleeve with an adorable pout pursing his lips, “You're not listening to mee.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” he told him, focusing on his friend, “I was thinking about...” he couldn't tell him what the bartender had just done, because he'd try to match them, and Jisung didn't want to spend the night explaining to the poor guy why he wasn't going to do anything with him, “what I'm wearing. Maybe it's not appropriate.”

“You look gorgeous, Ji, don't worry about it.” he tried to reassure him, the R's tangling in his mouth like a tongue twister. “I was asking you about Chan. No one's seen him all day.”

Jisung felt the temperature in the room rise too many degrees, his skin hot and feverish, but he didn't know if it was because of Felix's breathy compliment or because of his question, to which the only possible answer was hopelessly connected to sex. How was it his fault that his hyung was so horny?

“Chan hyung was busy,” he said, keeping his answer as concise as possible.

He felt like a twelve-year-old boy. He was old enough to talk about such things without being shy about it. Even if he wasn't too experienced, the Internet existed, and with it porn. Everyone knew what he was talking about even if he didn't say the word itself, because there were so many ways to call it. And yet it wasn't because of the subject matter that he was acting that way, but because it was Felix he was talking to. And talking about sex with Felix meant thinking about both at the same time. And that was dangerous.

Luckily, Felix was a hyperactive drunk, so if Jisung talked to him about something else he would forget what he had just asked.

“Did you only drink those two shots?” he gestured towards the bar, shamelessly changing the subject, and Felix followed his hand with his gaze.

“Seungmin had beer,” he whispered, as if it were a secret, “he gave me some.”

Seungmin would have loved to see Felix make a fool of Jisung without really being aware, the two of them alone in their shared apartment, totally uninhibited by his damn beer. He told himself he had to warn the poor Aussie that he had been poisoned by a dog. But at that moment what had gotten him high were the two shots he'd downed upon arriving at Perfect Blues, so he had to match Felix to keep the anxiety from eating him up inside at every sentence either of them blurted out, enough to remember his actions but still be able to blame any nonsense he did on the alcohol. So he sighed, turned, shoulder to shoulder with Felix, and emptied the vodka in one swallow.

The alcohol went down Jisung's throat leaving its harsh flavour in its wake, and he closed his eyes to keep them from tearing. He wasn't going to risk taking a second one, but in at least half an hour dancing it would kick in. It always did. Especially if the last thing he'd had was two spoonfuls of cereal. He just had to convince Felix to drink the glass of water. It shouldn't be that difficult.

Jisung had taken a second glass of vodka. After almost an hour among the sweaty bodies of the people dancing around him, the room spun slightly when he moved his head. His mouth felt dry, but he couldn't stop. He had shouted every song, even if he didn't know it, surrounded by his best friends. Felix was glued to him, his hand on his shoulder, their legs intertwined, clumsy steps of an improvised dance. He was having a good time. He thought he was having a good time. He had to be having a good time, because he saw Felix's luminous eyes, the bright smiles of Minho and Changbin, who had dropped by shortly after, and he needed to match them.

He was tired. His muscles were throbbing, he felt sticky, transpiring through his shirt, and the heat was beginning to overwhelm him. It had stopped being fun at least twenty minutes ago, when the DJ had repeated the song that was playing when he had arrived at the bar, and the coincidence screeched through his mind. He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on Felix's body next to his own, and repressed the urge to melt against him. He rested his forehead on his shoulder, and the soft texture of his denim jacket pressed against his skin as Felix laughed.

“Look, Ji can't do it anymore!”

For a moment he wanted to laugh, as did the rest, at a joke that at any other time he would have found hilarious. But Felix was right. He couldn't do it any more. For two days he had been fighting the feeling of vertigo that shook his heart whenever he was left alone, and he allowed himself to think about his future. He had been left alone on purpose, knowing that an honest look from the groom or Felix would make him break down, because they always managed to make him burst open like a torrent. And it couldn't happen. Because he'd been holding back too long, and to snap at his best friend's wedding would be to ruin it.

So he sighed, disentangling himself from his friend, and slipped through the crowd back to the bar. He tried to crack a smile for the nice bartender, collapsing on the stool, and was able to make it genuine when he placed a glass of cold water in front of him without having to ask for it. He crossed his arms over the bar after taking a sip, ignoring all the background noise, and rested his head on them, hiding from the outside. As always, he told himself. Hiding from everything.

For a few moments he took deep breaths, trying to convince himself that he was being dramatic, that he had to pull himself together so he could get back. But then he felt a hand caress his back, and the comforting weight felt so gentle and familiar that he didn't have to lift his head to know it was Felix. He turned his face slightly, putting on a mask of happiness, the one he deserved, and forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat in an attempt to tell him it was okay.

“Come on,” he whispered, loud enough to be heard.

Jisung raised his head slightly, not really understanding what he meant.

“Come with me,” he insisted, holding out his hand.

He said it as if it was necessary, as if he had to have Jisung by his side, him and him alone, and Jisugn didn't hesitate to take his hand. He took a breath, preparing to go back to Minho and Changbin and the tide of people he knew would swallow him whole, but his breath caught in his throat as Felix laced his fingers with his, holding his hand as gently as he always did, and led him towards the exit. He helped him meander between pairs of friends chatting at the entrance to the venue, and couples flirting and whispering promises to each other in the darkest rooms, and Jisung felt like he could breathe again as he felt the soft Sydney night breeze on his face.

Felix didn't utter another word. Probably with anyone else, that would have made Jisung squirm uncomfortably, even feel trapped, but it was Felix. Sweet, smiling Felix, who had always been there for him. Of course his presence was going to be like a warm blanket on the harshest day of winter. Of course he was going to be head over heels for him.

And as they walked hand in hand, back to the floor, their shoulders brushing against each other with every step, Jisung knew he had to do something different. The alcohol coursing through his system gave him a dose of courage that his body lacked in his day-to-day life, and the reassurance he felt at his side, along with the constant touch of his smooth skin in his, made him form dangerous ideas. Like kissing him, for example. Normally, no matter how much he wanted to, he always held back, fearing the consequences. But he was tired of holding back. If Felix rejected him, he would learn to live with it. But enduring the constant uncertainty weighed heavy on his heart.

He squeezed Felix's hand, smiling, three times, and knew without looking that he was mirroring him. Then he repeated the squeezes.

Jisung waited, holding his breath, as Felix pulled out of his pocket the keys of the doorway. He had to let go of his hand so he could open the door, and he passed quickly as Felix held it for him. He walked to the lift, pressing the button three times, as he always did, and heard the sound of the door closing. He turned in time to see Felix twist the keyring's kangaroo-shaped bead his finger, and swallowed as he positioned himself next to him. It was the right moment. He just had to turn and do it.

But then the ‘ping!’ of the lift echoed down the hall, and Jisung grimaced. This time Felix moved the first, and waited until Jisung was inside to press the button for his floor, with a flashing four that lit up under his finger. Jisung knew Felix wouldn't say a word until he spoke, respecting that the energy had left his body, and waiting for him to recover before interacting with him. But Jisung hated it when that happened. When he ran out of energy, the thing he most wanted to do was listen to him talk.

But it was true that they were both engaged in waiting. Constantly. For everything. And it was exhausting.

“Hey, look, it’s about to strike midnight,” Felix was looking at the screen over the lift’s buttons, where a white ‘23:58’ stood out over a pitch black background. Jisung made an affirmative noise, his gaze wandering over the weather information that appeared under the numbers. “Do you want to pretend it's going to be New Year's? It'll be as if we hadn't missed it.”

Jisung nodded, smiling, and Felix took out his phone, turning it on. The screen lit up, this time a minute closer to midnight, and Jisung saw that the photo Felix had was one that Hyunjin had taken of them when they weren't looking at one of their get-togethers in the garden of Minho's house. He smiled at the memory while Felix enabled the option for the seconds to appear as well, so that they could count down together. They both waited, again, in silence, as the seconds passed. Their gazes remained locked on the numbers, shoulder to shoulder. And when the moment came, Jisung heard the Aussie whisper a faint ‘ten’.

One second, one beat of his heart, and they both uttered a quiet “nine”.

Felix turned towards him at the sound of his voice, his lips tightening into a luminous smile, when he realised that Jisung was following suit. He playfully nudged his shoulder, but returned his eyes to the phone almost instantly to watch the numbers change, “eight”.

Then Jisung remembered the tradition he had with his brother. For as long as he could remember, his family made wishes on New Year's Day, usually requests for good health and happiness between them. When he was little, under the rule of never asking for anything for oneself, he and his brother made sure the other wished for the gift they were looking forward to receiving most for their birthday. It pained him to realise that he had not been able to share it with his family again that year. And he hadn't wished for anything at the time January 1st began, either, because he had been sleeping on the plane to Australia.

“Seven.”

His most logical thought, he figured, would be to wish Chan and his fiancée an amazing married life. Lots of joy and shared memories. After all she had been through, and how hard he had worked for the stability they finally enjoyed, they deserved it. But it was also true that since they had met they had developed a complicity that allowed them to find the positive side of any situation, always. Maybe they didn't need it so much.

“Six.”

For a moment, he thought of you too. About the impeccable version of yourself you offered so that no one could ever make you feel the way your mother had again, and how lost your gaze looked when you didn't have your sister's attention on you. You did seem to need it. It was a difficult decision, because his heart certainly felt like it was willing to lean towards you.

“Five.”

But if anyone was present in his heart, it was Felix. And as he had decided earlier, he was tired of waiting for some magical moment when they would both decide to confess the secret love they had been professing to each other for years. That only happened in the dramas he watched with Hyunjin, and in romance books. But life was all about risks, and he had to be willing to take some if he wanted to move forward, just like his friends did. Just like Chan had done the day he met his fiancée.

“Four.”

Jisung held his breath. He didn't know if the vodka was still running through his system, but he felt more awake than ever. His heart was pounding too hard in four different spots in his body, thumping heavily against his chest, and even trying to escape through his temples. It was the nerves, he told himself. He was facing an irrevocably significant moment.

“Three.”

He reminded himself that this was no fleeting whim. His feelings for his best friend had grown with every interaction, every smile and every selfless cuddle. Felix always made him feel safe, helping him stop doubting himself even when everyone seemed to turn their backs on him, repeating over and over again all the antonyms of the negative adjectives Jisung used to conjure up when everything went wrong. Felix was his person.

“Two.”

Sometimes he drowned in those feelings, as intense as the usual flood of emotions that bubbled up inside him. But then he would look at him, Felix's gaze glued to his own phone, waiting impatiently for twelve o'clock to strike, and he told himself it would be worth it. It would take a weight off his shoulders, whether the kiss was reciprocated or not. He would take whatever Felix wanted to give him, and that would be enough. With him it always was.

“One.”

Besides, in Western culture, one of the many traditions was the classical midnight kiss, wasn't it?

Felix turned to him, phone still in his hand, lips parted, “Happy New…!”

And then he kissed him.

It wasn't the first time it had happened, but it was the first time it had happened that way: fast, unexpected, hungry. From that first kiss they'd shared at fifteen, practising for the latest years of high school, to the desperate way Jisung had attacked Felix in the middle of the elevator it had been more than ten years, but it felt just as familiar as it had in the past. Jisung closed his eyes, like he had once done, unable to think of anything but Felix's lips against his own. His brows furrowed, trying not to read too much into the kiss, to avoid getting excited by the way his best friend had reciprocated it.

A kiss could communicate a lot of feelings, but words were needed to make them clear.

“You’re drunk, Ji,” he said, his chest rising with each quickened breath, pulling his hands away from Jisung's shoulders, as if he had just realised he had put them there, of what had just happened between them.

“No, I’m not,” he whined, falling into the autumn brownish of his eyes, “I promise.”

It would not be the first time he had lied to himself. He just wanted to kiss him again, to feel his hands roaming his body without shame, and if he had to pretend that his tipsyness was not the reason he'd managed to act, he would. Again and again. To him, it was completely worth it.

“Please.”

Jisung saw the moment Felix’s selfcontrol crumbled under his touch, all the alarms that ringed in his head long forgotten. One single word, and he was all his. One single second, and Felix's hands were back on his shoulders, as if they'd belonged on the thin fabric of his shirt forever, moving up to his neck and ruffling his hair as he pushed him towards the metal wall of the lift. Jisung exhaled a sigh against his mouth, no longer resisting the consequences, surrendering to Felix, closing his eyes and memorising every caress. 

The crushing weight that had settled in his chest throughout the night had melted into a steady drip of desire sliding down into the pit of his stomach, a fire that crackled louder each time Felix intertwined his tongue with Jisung's. He couldn't believe it was finally happening. He couldn't believe that the way Felix's body was pressed against his, Jisung's hands on the soft arch of his back, was no longer purely platonic, and that every time Jisung grinded against him he let out that low groan, and that it was for him.

So when the ‘ping!’ echoed again in the tight space of the elevator and they parted for a shared breath of air, Jisung let out a giggle. Felix looked up at him with fully dilated pupils, flushed to his ears, and returned the shy smile, resting his hand on the one Jisung had on his waist to pull him towards the corridor. In a short, clumsy walk they both made it to the front door, and Felix opened it on the second try.

Jisung didn't even bother to check that the door was locked before leaning Felix against the wall and burying his face in the blond's smooth neck, kissing and nibbling every inch of skin he laid his mouth on. It was addictive how responsive he became under his hands, sliding pretty whimpers from the abc of his throat, shivering under his touch, his Adam's apple twitching under his tongue, his hips twitching uncontrollably against him every time Jisung's thigh moved against his crotch.

“Lix-ah,” he whispers, raspy voice, swallowing another embarrassing noise, his lips hovering over Felix’s.

“Hey,” he answers, his loop-sided smile cracking against Jisung’s mouth, unfocused, narrowed eyes observing him. “Can I suck you off? Please, Sung, can I?”

Jisung nods, his heart beating so fast he feels it will stop at any moment, and he manages to swallow with difficulty. He sees Felix licking his lips hungrily, and then how he hooks his index fingers into the buckles of Jisung's oversized jeans. He doesn't need to hold back the whimper that catches in his throat when the waistband of his trousers digs into the back of his hips. Felix has turned him around effortlessly, and now he's once again the one trapped between his lips and the wall.

He didn't mind. It was a position where he could lean on if his knees gave out. Especially when, still maintaining eye contact with Felix, he watched as he dropped to his knees in front of him. They had stopped looking at the time the moment Jisung kissed him, but just the same time seemed to have slowed down since then, his erratic breathing ticking off the seconds. He could only focus on Felix.

On Felix and the darkness of his pupils, watching him from below as if he were praying. On Felix and the softness of his fingertips as he carefully undid the buttons of his shirt, exposing his bare chest. On Felix and the warmth of his breath, which he feels exhaling slowly and heavily against his abdomen. On Felix and his hands, small and quick, resting on Jisung's hips, trembling in the air, grabbing him by the waistband of his trousers, undoing the button, pulling down the zip. Sliding the trousers down to the floor. Sliding his shorts to the floor. Kissing the tip of his cock with care and reverence. On Felix, Felix, Felix, Felix...

Jisung closed his eyes the instant Felix put it in his mouth. He felt a breeze of heat rise up his chest, settling on his cheeks, as he realised how much he had leaked into his underwear, and how little he wanted Felix to notice it. For the short amount of time that had passed, the precum stain had been embarrassingly obvious, but Felix seemed to have ignored it, too hungry to even pay attention. A shiver ran down his spine and Jisung wondered if it was cold or disappointment that Felix hadn't teased him for how excited he was. He seemed oblivious to his urges in the presence of the blond.

His mouth fell open with a moan, eyelids fluttering, as Felix began to bob his head against him, a tear of drool spilling over his pretty rosy lips, and he clenched his fists at the sides of his hips. It was amazing ㅡJisung hadn't had much experience in anyone's bed, but Felix clearly had, just by the skilled way he used his tongue, running it along the underside of his cock, smiling as Jisung choked on nothingness at the feel of Felix's throat so tight and warm around him. 

It made him want to be jealous of whoever enjoyed it before him, but he chose to focus on the fact that he was the one who had him on his knees at that moment.

“Lix, hahㅡ Lix, please,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with all he hadn't been aware of letting out until then, “I'm going… Lix, I'm cumㅡfuckㅡ I'm cumming…”

But he didn't listen. He didn't seem to want to. He was determined to savour the whole thing, and by the sharp look in his big dark eyes, Jisung knew he had it all to lose. Whenever he competed against Felix, he was always the loser. In this situation it will hurt less, he knows. So he lets go, whimpering his best friend's name between his teeth, his hand tangled in Felix's velvety, blond hair.

And when he managed to open his eyes, his labored breathing making him feel slightly dizzy, Felix was grinning like a sinner, waiting to make eye contact with Jisung so he could open his mouth and show him his tongue. He had swallowed it all. Dirty little thing. He had no idea Felix was that kind of lover.

But far from succumbing to his devilish face, Jisung grabbed him by the front of his white shirt, sticky and clammy under his fingers, and pulled him up, bringing their lips together in a spittle-filled, toothy kiss. He was desperate. To keep devouring him, to take him to his room, to prove to him why he should stay with him.

He sliped off his shoes with his feet, first one and then the other, letting Felix mimic him, and the clothes around his ankles are left lying on the floor as Jisung slidded his hand down to grab the back of his neck, his tongue clumsily in his mouth, and directs him, backwards, to the room he was assigned to when he arrived in the city. It was dark, but he didn't mind in the slightest. His eyes had grown accustomed, and the sight of Felix's shining pupils in front of his, the clear silhouette of his body as he pulled his jacket off, is enough for him.

He just wanted to feel it all, and hold every second of it in his memory.

Felix chased his mouth as Jisung broke away to remove his shirt, and it didn't take long for him to lift his hands, a shiver running through his body as the fabric caressed his nipples in his way up, kissing Jisung again as soon as he pulled it to the floor, amidst the mess of his room. He was able to fumble with the button of his dress trousers, ignoring the zip, when his legs hit the edge of the bed. He tugged them down with a jolt, and kneeled on the mattress, face to face with Jisung, his hands again wrapped around Jisung's shoulders.

They separated for a moment, the time it took Felix to childishly pull Jisung's open shirt to the floor, and he kissed him again, pulling him until he managed to have him on top of himself. Jisung rested his hands on the sides of the blond's head, pinning him to the mattress, sliding his tongue down Felix's neck, and felt his cock twitching, hardening against his best friend's bare thighs, when he heard Felix moan.

“Sung,” he said, eyes closed, wrapping his legs around his hips, pulling him close until there wasn't room for a breath between their bodies. “Please, I need… I need you, please.”

Jisung hid his face in the hollow between Felix's shoulder and neck, and poured a whimper over his sweaty skin, letting the friction of his hips push him a little over the edge. But Felix took one of his hands, his agile fingers curling around his wrist, and drew them to his ass, guiding Jisung's fingertips between his cheeks.

“I'm all ready for you, see?” he insisted, babbling lips moving against his ear. “You see, Sungie? ‘Touched myself… Just a bit, earlier in the shower.”

Jisung's head spinned as Felix whispered the slurred words into the room, quiet but too loud at the same time, and he released his grip so he could slide his hand across the mattress to his nightstand. The bottle of lube was nearby, always handy, and he picked it up with trembling hands, getting on his knees. Felix let his legs fall onto the bed, expectant, exposed, as Jisung poured it generously into his hand, bending down to leave a kiss on his lips while he slipped his fingers inside him.

The reaction was astonishing. Felix's cock throbbed over his tummy, his abs clenching and unclenching, mouth wide open. Jisung smiled, lowering his kisses to Felix's abused neck, working him open.

“My good, naughty boy,” he murmured, and Felix exhaled an breathy laugh, his hands tightly gripping Jisung's dishevelled sheets.

“Like… likewise,” managed to reply, but the words choked in his throat in a low whine when Jisung withdrew his fingers, leaving him empty.

He moved back to the drawer as fast as he could, grabbing a condom with sticky fingers, tearing the plastic with his teeth and pulling it down his length. Felix doesn't have time to process it, his hands clutching at Jisung's shoulders for dear life as Jisung slidded himself inside of Felix. They both held their breath, Felix throwing his head back, furrowing his brow, his throat buzzing with pleasure. Jisung waited, concentrating on not releasing right away, while Felix adjusted to him.

“So, oh, fuckㅡ so big,” he moaned, digging his short nails into Jisung's skin, “so good, so big, oh God…”

“Yeah?” 

He wasn't even able to respond, his gaze lost in the ceiling as Jisung slammed his hips against Felix's, the fucked out expression making Jisung groan. He loved that face. He was going to treasure forever those freckles that painted his friend's pretty face. His arms trembled as he kept pushing into Felix, gasps coming from his rosy lips, and Jisung tried to find him in the dark.  Felix welcomed the open-mouthed kiss with feverish urgency, mind too focused on his pleasure to notice that Jisung had caressed his way down to Felix's cock, jerking him off with renewed energy.

He wasn't going to last long, so he had to focus on Felix. Focus on squeezing his cock the right way, earning every sweet noise with pride, savouring the harsh flavour of vodka on his tongue.

“Sungie… Hah, Sungie I'm… I'm going to,” but Jisung didn't let him finish the sentence, drowning his gasps in another dirty kiss.

Felix tangled his fingers in Jisung's hair, making his hips stutter, the musky scent of their sweat tingling in his nose with each thrust. Jisung's muscles twitch as he notices the way Felix tenses beneath him, his cum spilling between his fingers as he cums, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. That was when he let himself go, jaw going slack as he emptied himself into Felix's warm hole, releasing all the built up stamina into one final thrust.

He collapsed, smiling lazily against Felix's skin, and hoped it was not a dream. Then he felt his friend humming, his chest too comfortable, caressing his scratched back. He had to get up, throw away the condom and clean themselves before he could even begin to think about sleeping. Once he woke up, he would deal with the consequences. Their whole friendship had been amazing, but that night belonged to him. Especially if Felix regretted it the next day.

Because Jisung knew only one thing. His last wish before midnight had been for Felix to kiss him back. It had been selfish and impulsive, but worst of all, it had been a wish for himself. That broke his mother's main rule, and probably meant that even if it had come true, it would have terrible repercussions.

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[jazeswhbhaven]

The Encounter of Two Flames | React | Spoilers

HOW WE DOIN' LOVELIES? We've got ourselves a Gehenna eventtttt<3 Why not have one during the anniversary of WHB launching? Satan was our first and he's here to tell us his story.

I for one feel like it's nice getting know "young" Satan and seeing this new sprite of his.

I waited for compile the first four days together because making a post for each damn day was becoming tedious lol. Sure it's good for spreading out screenshots but my adhd is k i l l i n g me.

Let's get started tho yeah?

"As they always do"....

Like good fucking lord Gehenna is always being attacked. I've said this once and I'll say it again like the angels really have fucking beef with Satan it seems. They barely touch the other parts of Hell.

Cameo from the bae, thank you for letting us know your thoughts boo. ʃƪ˘ﻬ˘) ♡´

So anyways Gehenna is under fire for a different reason today, it is none other than Sitri that's burning up the entire place and even his sprite is just nothing but blue fire.

In science class ya'll, we remember that blue flames are actually hotter than the orange ones. So I can imagine it's a good thing that Solomon or MC weren't here cause yeah they would of been instantly vaporized.

But all the devils are trying to put the fire out, can't cause water ofc won't help here.

I imagine Sitri's fire is more of a energy/essence sourced fire though so ofc it can't be extinguished by "normal" methods.

AND THEN HERE COMES THE BOO BEAR.

Young Satan is peak I swear. He's spunky, full of life, catty, I feel he's easily annoyed more, and just got that "it" factor. Not to say the older him is drained and used up, but definitely more mature.

So he goes to his demonic monster form, which as far as we've seen he's the only one that has a form like that. I'd like to assume the others do too but don't have to use it as often or at all.

cough we should have a h-scene with monster demon satan cough

So....why did Sitri burn up Gehenna??

Well it turns out that Sitri wasn't necessarily doing this on purpose.

Normally, our blue haired mr perfect shoes has everything together. Here he doesn't. Phew....Sitri I know something ain't right when your room is as messy as Paimon's (canon stuff that Paimon doesn't keep his room clean lmao)

Like? even Sitri's appearance is all kinds of fucked. Dry cracked lips, fucked up hair, like our baby is not doing well ya'll.

Andddd Belialllllll the bae <3 comes to visit. Jjyu and his loud mouthed self..

What kills me is that Sitri literally was like "I didn't hear you."

WHAT?

And then we find out through Belial writing it down because he didn't want Jjyu making shit worse (good call) that it wasn't Sitri's fault that the recent battle went all wrong and a lot of devils were killed in the process.

Sitri feels responsible for their deaths and is spiraling right now overthinking the past and thinking how it could have been better.

I feel sorry for him, because there was a time in my life where I would do the same and basically be so deep in my regret and guilt I neglected my health, my surroundings, my friendships...pretty much everything. It wasn't a good time so I know what Sitri is going through.

We even hear him mention that Zagan was badly injured (Astaroth too)

Jjyu shut the hell up omg lmaooooo

(him in response to Sitri explaining that Zagan could barely speak he was hurt so badly) Belial glares at him for that btw lmao

Satan also got injured it seems so it sounds like this battle went really bad.

Sitri even asks to be alone, and well Belial gets it and leaves promptly. I really like seeing Belial be more interactive this go around because we barely get that from the Gehenna devils in the main story and the last event in Gehenna was mostly just Minhyeok and Ppyong.

This gives me an insight as to how Belial is in personality, and really aside from Jjyu, he's really just chill and seems very pleasant to be around in general. I wish we could see what his eyes look like. It would change me forever.

So we're at the meeting that happens a few days later and well Sitri is still in a sullen mood. Since Zagan and Astaroth are out of commission, Amy was invited to come.

Oh so it seems Amy is going to be popping up since we got introduced. That's pretty nifty.

And Leraye is definitely worried about Sitri, wondering if he's sleeping, eating, and his condition has gotten worse. I imagine Sitri hasn't sleep in days since the event.

Paimon tries to lighten the mood but bless his heart it doesn't work when...

Amy starts going off about Sitri ordering him and his men to go east, and well that was the wrong call this time. I see it as a simple miscalculation but in the heat of war...perhaps things like this can't just be mistakes. lives are at stake, and devils aren't being re-produced anymore. Their extinction is literally inevitable during these battles.

Even if it weren't, lives were still lost and Amy takes this personally because it was HIS men who were affected the most.

I guess this seemed like the "best" time to bring up why Amy hates Sitri so much but it's like???? "because he looks like a girl?"

I'm just going to take this as Amy just not liking how elegant Sitri is with everything and how it compares to his rough and rash behavior. I don't think he truly would care if anyone looks more feminine.

And well because Amy started some shit, Sitri took a piece of paper, spat in it and threw it at Amy. So naturally...here we are.

Now a couple things about this scene...Zagan is present...and then there's a random devil there which this a private meeting for the nobles so why????

idk....let's just keep going lol

So Amy goes on to further berate Sitri and saying that he's aware that him and his subordinates have to follow orders once they get them from the center, so if the orders were better thought out his men wouldn't of died.

Sitri tells him why doesn't he kill him then since it was as if he did it himself and Amy is all like ????

And here we see more of their banter dynamic and it's almost as if Amy literally just holds back and only fights with words. Sitri physically maims and does things to him just as we saw in the previous event.

He even broke his wrist here like damn. And came in like-

Like good lord Sitri chill

And then Sitri starts to smack the shit out of him and cuss him out some more and Paimon stops the fight because Amy is literally about to give him a concussion at this point. Paimon invited Amy because he felt it would be good to go over the battle with him there but he realizes all it did was make things worse.

Leraye goes to even try and talk with Sitri to see if he's taking care of himself and well, obviously he's not. He's still focused on the battle and his mistakes.

A few days later happens and Sitri is front and center because Amy pretty much said he isn't listening to him anymore and doing what he thinks is best.

And Sitri isn't doing so hot in battle either. He's shooting without a plan or strategy, other devils are just standing around. Yes angel's are dying but he's just...doing whatever and hasn't had proper sleep or anything.

He's such a mess Satan had to come in and kick his ass in the middle of battle and set him straight.

So it's safe to say that Satan doesn't like tasteless and useless anger. There has to be a purpose for your anger and for him to thrive on it and he just ain't diggin' it from Sitri at the moment.

Oh boy...I don't have a good feeling about that.

So we go back to the time when Gehenna was up in flames. We have Leraye snippin' and doin' his thing and Ppyong helping with bringing over bullets. They then notice Sitri on the battlefield and he seems to be killing every single angel accurately but....our boy Leraye knows best.

He tells Ppyong to STOP Sitri because this isn't a planned attack, he is literally killing everyone that gets in his range. Doesn't matter if it's angel or devil.

Sitri is literally so damn tired he can't even notice or care anymore and is just going at it.

And that's when everyone notices the flames at the same time. They are erupting from Sitri's body.

Belial even uses his hoarse voice to call out to Sitri and we know that's serious.

And sorry like I know that Sitri is in a bad place and bad spot rn but he looks so pretty here. The blue and pink contrasts are definitely a Sitri signature look.

But yeah that fire is way too hot for anyone to do anything. Even Leraye is told that he can't help. So Ppyong runs off to find Amy to help.

Leraye does attempt though, but it's no use, and Paimon had to come and save him. (they're so cute I love them)

And ya'll it was THREE damn days that fires were going and THREE days that Sitri was like that just in the middle of the square. Also...damn why did it take three days for Ppyong to go find Amy? (he explains later that the teleportation talisman just couldn't keep up with Amy)

But the Gehenna bois are all going over how they don't blame Sitri, they blame themselves for letting him hold that weight of being responsible for everything that happens. It's that weight that led to his current state and now things were worse off for everyone but they feared most for Sitri's life and well-being.

But Amy finally shows up and well his attempts to help the situation were hopeful at first...but sadly...

Amy gets stabbed in the stomach with one of the iron maiden spikes...which at this point are surrounding Sitri like vines to protect him. This raw power is actually quite impressive if it weren't ya know killing everyone around him in a blind haze.

I wonder if he was able to tap into that while training in Hades?

But...yeah I was rooting for Amy to bring him back here because you know frenemies and stuff like that (or for those who ship them only Amy can bring him back)

BUT Satan comes to the rescue!

Poor Amy, I swear he's always gettin' tossed around and shit lol

Also as many times Amy has been slashed and punctured in the stomach you would assume he'd never recover from that.

But we have something important here that I'd like to talk about for a minute that Satan reveals...

He mentions that Sitri is dealing with depression and that he must have gotten it from him. If we remember from his info card he is the embodiment of depression in Hell. He is depression. So his right hand devil that's always around him? Yeah eventually he's gonna get bit by the bug.

And I like that Satan isn't the typical representation of depression either. He always seems upbeat, active, and doing everything and anything. But as we have seen in the main story he has emotional wounds that haven't healed and he wonders if they will. He was speaking of the loss of Solomon, but I'm sure there's more to it than that which existed way before he even met him.

Now we see that Sitri is literally not taking care of himself, wallowing, self destructing, that's what most folks usually see and demonize when folks are going through IRL depression. They never seem to pay attention to the person who has it all together because why would they have depression? they're doing fine right?

n o p e.

So here we are...knowing the source. And why Satan has decided to be the one to save Sitri. And well since he can't do that as himself he has to transform to his monster form to do it.

I'd just like to bring up that he's so damn cute here. The jokester.

But it seems that Satan doesn't take his monster form often. We've seen it first when he met Solomon to test him, we see it when he fights Mammon that one time in one of the comics iirc, and we see it now.

I wonder when was the first time he ever had to use his monster form?

But either way, he carries Sitri out of the flames, and even though Sitri is still on fucking fire burning on his back Satan can handle it. Even Astaroth is concerned and comes to see if Satan is okay.

Satan starts traveling somewhere..."where memories flicker" to go put out the fire though, and everyone is following him.

Satan keeps mentioning that Sitri kept a promise to him that he wouldn't die. And I think we will get to the root of that soon.

And that's when we go to a F L A S H B A C K

ALRIGHT TIMELINE SHIT TAHNK

So...with this bit of info this is what I've gathered-

-Satan, Belphie, Mammon, and Leviathan all were already here before Lucifer was

-Gehenna was not in existence yet, but Tartaros and Hades were

-This possibly happened around the same time that Mammon was trapped (or after)

S T O P fueling my damn SHIP (and by stop I mean keep doing it.)

So apparently in a land assuming early Gehenna there were rumors of a beautiful beast, and Satan was like "oh levi??? :D" but clearly not him lol

I just think it's funny that his first thought was Leviathan. (he'd be like yeah think of me first you idiot)

AND WE SEE EARLY RED LUMPLINGSSSSSSSSSSS

the babiessssssssssss

They must have been before Ppyong because I don't see him here. So hopefully we get to see when Ppyong arrived!!

So what Satan is doing right now is traveling with these three going to find what this beast is and if he can find his right hand devil in order to help him build his kingdom.

Coming of age story it seems...lol

Now this background made me be like oh....it's a pond literally full of rank ass blood.

Now i'm gonna gross ya'll out, but every time I see things like this I think of how period blood smells when it's been sitting on a pad for too long or in the trashcan with other bloody pads and it just smells really bad like tissue and blood because that's what it is....

But yeah I scrunched my nose because I'm like Hell is not the place for me and my nose I'd literally wish for sense of smell to vanish.

one of the red lumps throws up and well I don't blame him...lol

nice to know that he says that to basically everyone and everything even in his past lol

BUT it seems tomorrow we're going to see who it is he's calling out to, my guess is it's probably Sitri because well...the story IS about them meeting after all.

There we have it ya'll, day one through four! I think for the rest of the days I'm just going to do two days at a time for each post I make instead of waiting four days because phew this was lot of catching up and writing lol

I'm realllyyyy feelin' Satan's look here btw. I've mentioned that already but Imma do it again lol

But overall so far I think I'm learning a lot about Sitri in a way I'd like to know more about Bael or Foras tbh since they are the right hand devils. I know we had a Niflheim event that showed Beleth, but I want to know what it is he did to fall to Hell and what that scar around his neck is about. And for those who didn't get Beel's bathcard we do get some of Bael's lore in there but only a crumb.

But alas...possibly may or may not get this but we'll see...

ANYWAYS thanks for reading and see ya'll on the next react ^^

[venusgirltarot]

What Is Blocking You From Personal Growth?

Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

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Photos used in this reading are not mine :)

Pile One ┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

Pile one, I think your lack of boundaries with those around you is what’s blocking you from personal growth. For some of you, this could be an ex and others this might be family, possibly an aunt, mother, or sister. For some, it’s all of the above. This may be you helping those around you out financially and it could also be people around you draining your energy. For a lot of you, it’s both. You’re filling other people’s cups until yours is completely empty and it’s leaving you drained and exhausted. You need to take a step back and reevaluate. Some of you may have cut off or blocked out someone in your life who tried to show you this and tell you what I’m telling you now. Only take that if it resonates. Please know that you don’t owe anyone anything and if someone is meant to be in your life, you won’t have to force it or give away any part of yourself in order to make them stay there. Pay attention to the way you feel after talking to or spending time with people. Notice how your energy changes and what makes you feel drained and what makes you feel fulfilled. Go after what makes you feel fulfilled and do it unapologetically. I heard “you deserve more” your guides really want you to release these people and have more for yourself. I heard “stop giving your all to them”.

Some of you could be lawyers or just have some sort of career that you had to get a degree for or you’re working on your degree right now and you might be the first of your family members to go to college/university. I heard “notice that accomplishment” and “be proud of that” for some reason, I’m getting the vibe that these people in your life may use that against you? I’m not sure how they do it but maybe they credit themselves for you being able to go to school? Like if this is a parent they may think them pushing you the way they did is what got you to follow this path so therefore you wouldn’t have achieved this accomplishment if it weren’t for them. I hope that makes sense. My point is, that’s not true and you are where you are because you got yourself there and you owe nothing to people who are not deserving of your time/energy. If no one has told you today, Pile One, please know that I am proud of you and all your accomplishments and know that you do not owe anyone anything. What you have is yours and only yours, don’t let those who are undeserving try and take that away from you. Also, don’t be afraid to reach out to any connections you’ve lost due to your loyalty tho those around you who may have not been very deserving of that loyalty.

Pile Two ┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

What’s blocking you from personal growth is comparison. When I was shuffling, I heard “Lacy” by Olivia Rodrigo and “Jealousy, Jealousy” also by Olivia Rodrigo. Pile Two, you may have struggled with insecurities and comparison from a very young age. This may be an awful habit that you’ve carried with you into adulthood. It could have started with an older sibling. Some of you may have a much older sibling, possibly one that was a teenager when you were a child. Idolizing and looking up to this older sibling may have quickly become a way of unhealthy comparison for you. You may have found your identity in this comparison and soon went on to look for yourself by comparing yourself to others throughout childhood and now as an adult.

You’ve completely changed yourself in order to “fit” into a certain type or in order to become a certain person but you’re chasing an ideal and beauty standard that simply doesn’t exist. You’re just in a never ending battle with yourself that will only end in exhaustion. You also may have spent a lot of money or clothing, products, cosmetic procedures for some of you. Some of you may have even gone into debt or gone through a lot of credit cards (that specific message may not resonate, only take it if it resonates for you).

Sitting here and telling you to just stop would be useless and not very helpful, especially considering this seems to be something you’ve done your whole life. I think it is best for you moving forward to maybe look into therapy and start taking apart this idea and image that you have of yourself and really getting to the root of the problem. This is a mindset that you’ve really built into yourself and it won’t disappear over night but you can overcome this with the necessary time, dedication, and professional help.

I don’t think you realize how beautiful of a person you are, Pile Two. You are someone worth getting to know. Not only by others but by yourself, as well. Take the time to get to know you, I promise it will be worth while. Inside and out, you’re a beautiful person and there’s no need to compare yourself to those around you. You may even seek out friends that represent what and who you want to be as a person so you can sort of take bits and pieces of their personality and make them apart of yourself if that makes sense. What you don’t realize is how much those around you look up to and admire you, the real you and not the you that you have created and try to portray. They see the value in you that you’re ignoring and love you for who you truly are and you should really try to do the same, Pile Two. Pulling cards and spending a little time in your energy, I can safely and surely say that you are an outstanding human being, Pile Two, and I hope you see that in yourself some day.

Pile Three ┊ ༑ ࿐ྂ。

Fear is what is holding you back from your own personal growth, Pile Three. You seem to break your own heart before anyone else gets the chance to and hide behind walls that you’ve built for yourself. You may look for the flaws in people very early on in knowing them as almost an excuse to turn in the other direction and run and it’s really just a way to get out before you end up being the one to get hurt but in reality, you end up hurting others with good intentions by doing this.

You may currently have some sort of loge connection/relationship that you’re really fighting. You want this but because of your past and mistrust for people, you’re looking for warning signs and any reason to run away as far and as fast as possible but this person isn’t giving you anyway so you may be sort of giving them yourself by overthinking every situation, just to try to create red flags and get out. You’re denying yourself something you really want because you’re afraid of what it could be and considering all you’ve been through, that’s understandable. But what if this could work out? What if it could be greater than you ever imagined? What if it could be the best decision you’ve made in a long time? You’ll never find the answer to these questions if you run away from something that you have no reason to run from.

You’re a bit of your own worst enemy, Pile Three. I won’t give you some bs love reading and tell you something about how this person is your soulmate and you’ve found the one, partly because I don’t believe in going about readings that way and it’s just not the vibe I’m getting but also partly because I think you’d panic and immediately click off this reading if I said that 😭 but I will say that I think sticking around and seeing where this goes is a good idea. No need for rushing, labels, etc. but it’s okay to stay where awhile and see where it takes you. Let go of fear just this one time and find out that you had nothing to worry about in the first place. You don’t have to lose yourself in this, your identity won’t be stripped away from you and you don’t have to morph yourself into this person for them to love you, just give it a chance and see where it goes.

Some sort of semi-serious (I’m saying semi-serious because I don’t want to scare you. I don’t think it’s anything crazy) conversion might he in the horizon with this person. Again, nothing crazy. There may just be some romantic tension between the two of you that needs to be addressed. This seems light hearted and like this person wants a better feel/idea of where you stand. It’s okay to tell them you don’t want labels and you want to see where this goes. Just be honest with your feelings and where you stand. Your person might be under the influence when having this conversation as well. Maybe they reach out when they’re a little tipsy and have some liquid courage in them. Again, don’t be afraid. This is the natural next step in this connection but is in no way meant to rush or push things ahead.

Breathe, Pile Three. You’re okay, you’re doing to be okay. You are safe and so is this connection. Be open to the idea of this connection but don’t give more of yourself than you are ready to in this moment and be honest with this person and where you stand/how you feel. Your intuition has been telling you that everything is okay and I think you’ve been ignoring it. Follow your intuition, trust it. It will never guide you wrong.

[yikesmary]

i just can't forget about bets shua singing 2 minus 1 in his entire soul like he's been on divorce, failed relationship, heartbreak, and fighting for his child's custody like i badly want a fic about ittt vv bro still in love with yn tho (I've been searching for a perfect writer who may be the best on writing these kind of fics and I thought about uuuu)

CLOCKWORK — joshua hong x reader

summary: where it wasn’t supposed to be like this. but it did.

notes: anon why’d you have to make a request so enticing to write ;-;. this was so sad for me to write IM CRYING. also please give feedback?? this is the first time in awhile i’ve written angst so i might be a little rusty.

anon i’m sorry if i interpreted the request wrong but i hope i did it correctly 🤞

warnings: ANGST. there’s no comfort, only angst. everyone loses in this. mentions of your child, but he doesn’t make an appearance.

join my taglist!

You knew that you had to divorce Joshua the minute when you looked at him and all you felt was emptiness. Unlike the utter love and devotion you felt for him in the beginning of your relationship, you felt… nothing.

It started with the mini arguments that ended in both of you guys apologizing. Then it escalated; fights that would last for a couple of days to full on screaming matches where you’d both yell until neither of you had the energy or voice to anymore.

Looking back, neither of you were at fault. You two just happened to be not compatible with each other.

But that didn’t mean you stopped trying. Because you tried.

It just didn’t work.

And even with a child, a precious little boy named Siwoo, it seemed like nothing could work.

And you realized this in the midst of a fight with Joshua that made him leave in the middle of it and the slamming of the door awoke your son, who was around a year old at the time, who then started to cry his heart out.

So you filed for a divorce.

It’d been a year since the divorce.

The process hadn’t been easy for you, at first. When you brought up the idea of divorce, Joshua immediately shut it down and used every excuse in existence.

But he must’ve seen how much the fighting drained you, because once he saw your sad eyes which only lit up in the presence of yours and his’ son, he agreed to the divorce.

The divorce was amicable, for the most part. You guys decided that going to court to settle everything was too much, so you guys talked it out. It was probably the longest the two of you have gone without fighting each other, which was depressing when you thought back on it.

But, in the end, you and Joshua settled on everything. For now, you would have Siwoo live with you in the house you guys had purchased while married since he was so young and maybe if he was older, he’d go back and forth with living between the both of you.

You had brought up the idea of selling the house and splitting the money, but Joshua insisted that you keep it.

“It’s your dream house. I don’t want you to have to throw it away because of me,”

So, now, you lived in a house made for 4 people with only you and Siwoo living together. Joshua visits when he can and sometimes he even sleeps over to spend time with Siwoo.

Life was okay.

“Joshua, what are you doing here?”

“I didn’t know where else to go,”

It was evident he was drunk. His shirt was disheveled, his shoes in one hand while a bottle that contained who-knows-what in his other. He could barely keep his eyes open and he was swaying so hard you feared he could topple over any minute.

You ushered him in the house, concerned that your neighbors will start talking and the last thing you needed was nosy neighbors.

“Where’s Siwoo?” Joshua slurred, putting down his bottle of alcohol on a nearby table, and sitting on the couch that you decided to keep, along with everything else in the house because it was too painful to throw away, even if it caused you pain at the same time.

“He’s at my parents. He wanted to spend time with his grandparents,” you informed him.

He nodded then stayed silent.

“Look, Joshua, I don’t know what you’re doing here—“

“It wasn’t supposed to end like this.”

“What?” you asked, not understanding what he was saying.

“This. Us. We were supposed to be happy and Siwoo was supposed to have a sibling,”

“You should go—“

“I went on a date today,” he suddenly said, cutting you off.

You stiffened at the news, but didn’t say anything. It seemed like Joshua wasn’t waiting for a response because he said, “The guys said I needed to move on. The divorce was done and I was finally single. So I let Seungkwan arrange a date for me with this girl from his workplace,”

“I don’t think I should hear this—“

“I couldn’t focus on the date. Ask me why.” Joshua said, his statement not leaving room for arguments.

You sighed and asked, “Why couldn’t you focus?”

“Because she wasn’t you,” he softly said, his slightly glassy eyes looking at you.

You took a deep breath, not expecting that answer.

“Joshua, you’re drunk. Maybe you should sleep it off,” was all you said, before turning to leave.

Before you could exit the living room and go to your room, Joshua called your name.

You turned and he said, “For what it’s worth, I really am sorry,”

You turned away, not wanting to risk him seeing how you started to tear up.

“I’m sorry, too,”

And with that, you went to your room and cried yourself to sleep.

Joshua, in the living room, felt so close yet so far from you, also crying himself to sleep.

But the next day, the both of you would pretend that nothing happened.

Like clockwork.

taglist (crossed out means that tumblr didn’t let me tag you): @belladaises @smileyneos @winterpaos @wonhuiful @minhui896 @baekhyunmochibbh @x-alightinthedark @whywontyousetfree @minghaossv

[pianistbynight]

waning summer days

i cheated and recorded in sections, then spliced them together because i can't get a single clean take. if it's not me making a mistake, it's noise surrounding me. this way, the pressure was lessened and i think i did better (far from "perfect" tho) and it was less frustrating.

thursday | 08/15/24

no piano today. i'm tired. but i did read more of sweet bean paste and continued to work on the databases course. today was a bit chaotic, so i couldn't get 2h of studying in, but if i sleep early, i can maybe hopefully wake up earlier to work on it.

friday | 08/16/24

tried to play piano but then stopped because i got tired sooner than i expected. (also tried out a voice recorder app to record the piano audio instead of my phone camera but didn't like it...too much treble.) i finished 1 subsection of the databases course. caught up with @zzzzzestforlife. listened to some lofi and watched some youtube.

i'm trying to get myself in the mood to prep for the upcoming school year 😮‍💨 i...find myself dreading more and more each coming school year for some reason. ... it's not the work i fear. i know i can do it well but it takes so much of me. and i wonder what i'm doing this for. because i don't have all the stepping stones laid out yet. 😮‍💨 i need to work on that, so i'm going to sleep now so i can have more energy to continue doing this tomorrow. good night.

saturday | 08/17/24

i had a much more ambitious plan originally, but the only solo activity i actually had time and energy for was journaling because coming back to my hometown reminded me of and clarified some memories and opinions i had formed long ago, how they've shaped who i am now... the rest of the time i spent with family with real conversation for the first time in a while, so that was nice.

sunday | 08/18/24

sigh. i have never felt like i belonged in my former hometown and the loneliness is striking much stronger now. i was so tired i couldn't do much today except start filling in the YearCompass because who said the new year had to begin in january lol. i'm glad today was a chill day spent at my temporary home.

i will try to sleep early tonight. hopefully i won't wake up in between and be unable to fall back asleep again.

monday | 08/19/24

today was my first day of passable sleep quality in the last couple days. i woke up later than i expected. yet i still didn't feel like doing anything. i forced myself to do some duolingo for cheap dopamine, and later in the afternoon, i attempted to get through 1 more subsection of the databases course but couldn't focus. instead, i researched how to apply to take courses at another university in my area since there are some interesting courses there that aren't available at the one i attend. at night, i practiced the last bit of the clementi sonata and tried to record the whole thing but couldn't get a good one. i'm too tensed and distracted. i need to practice playing while relaxed, focusing only on what's relevant in the moment.

review U1 japanese, start hiragana practice ✅

work on databases course 🟨

practice piano ✅

tuesday | 08/20/24

fill in the YearCompass bc i'm too tired to journal unprompted and i want to be filled with hope for this school year instead of constantly drained and increasingly discouraged, disappointed, and depressed (why do so many negative things start with "d"? even the saddest songs are in d minor...)

practice playing clementi sonata while relaxed throughout and focused only on what's currently relevant

DATABASES COURSEEE - finish 4/13 subsections ✅ (ended up finishing 2 and starting a 3rd...this is harder than i thought it'd be but it'll be good for me to keep going...)

wednesday | 08/21/24

i don't even remember what happened. probably because i wasn't very productive. i was unusually angry and moody. i tried to record a single clean take and kept failing. i merely inched forward in the databases course. it was a day full of frustrating but necessary interruptions. it was tiring. i can't wait to go home.

thursday | 08/22/24

recorded the clementi sonata in sections...with more time and energy, i probably could've done better. almost 50% through the databases course. feeling a little better today than yesterday but always easily tired. this might be my last summer-themed post for the year as i'm already in an "autumnal mood." 🍂😅 i'll see you later either here or on my sideblog @studentbyday 🙂