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shaunamilfman · 13 days ago

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the ghost you dressed up as [5]

pairing: Jackie Taylor x Shauna Shipman x R summary: "You've decided that, maybe, murder isn't as bad as you thought it was. Especially if your girlfriends say please." note: discussion of violence masterlist

“... and that's when Shauna stabbed her in the shoulder and sent her down a flight of stairs,“ Jackie says excitedly, trailing her fingers absently up your arm as she regales you in the story of Casey's murder. She's so excited to tell you the story that you try not to cringe hearing the brutal death of your friend. You keep having to remind yourself that this is your girlfriend and not some true crime documentary.

“We never saw Jackie coming; she always had a nice thing to say about everyone,” They’d say.

There's an almost childlike eagerness on her face as she sets the scene, eyes bright and animated, like she can't wait to share every gruesome detail with you. “She screamed the first few steps, but then she got sort of quiet. I mean, the thudding was pretty loud, but I think she hit her head or something.” Jackie frowns at the memory, looking put out. How dare Casey pass out and spoil her fun. “God, and when Shauna started going down the stairs after her? She started clawing at the tiles to pull herself away. It was kind of sad, really, but you know…”

Jackie looks over her shoulder at Shauna affectionately. “You should've seen how Shauna just stood there watching. She didn't even flinch, all calm and stuff, as she did her little head tilt. You know the one?”

Jackie mimics the movement sloppily, an almost awkward exaggeration of Shauna's terrifying glare. She smiles widely at you as she lets it fall, like she's waiting for you to laugh. You nod slowly, forcing a smile to your face.

“Yeah, I know the one,” You agree.

It's not that the conversation is completely unexpected. Dating them has come with a host of morbid conversations–offers of murder seem to be how they show affection–but this was about someone who used to be your friend. It wasn't some abstract victim you barely liked like Allie or someone who you hated like Steven. Listening to Jackie talk about her last moments of utter agony made you feel sick.

It hadn’t bothered you listening to how Allie or Steven died, or even Tatum. Jackie had described that one at length, going into every gorey detail like you hadn’t been there to see it yourself. You think you must know every word of that mocking phone call she’d had with Tatum before Tatum had finally dropped the phone in her fear. The shrill ring of the phone, the way her voice started so confident and turned broken and begging by the end, the way she’d cried at Jackie’s giggling taunts, how she broke down into sobs and begged for her life. You hadn’t minded listening, not really. It was sweet in a way, even if it sounds fucked up to admit, but there was always some sort of affection underlying everything they do.

The worst part is how unaware of it she seems, like it's just another cool adventure her and Shauna had without you. She'd even assured you a few days ago that they wouldn't leave you out of it the next time they “went out.” Like it was a date.

Shauna seems vaguely amused about the whole thing, peering over Jackie at you as she lays behind her. She’s been half-watching you and half-listening to Jackie all night. Drifting in between her clear desire to go to sleep and Jackie’s desire for her to stay up and talk with her. Instead, just settling on listening in with her eyes barely open. Something has finally caught her attention, though, as she pokes at your hip with the arm she's got wrapped around Jackie, looking at you expectantly.

“What?” You ask suddenly, squirming under their combined stare.

“I asked if you were okay. You're not like mad or anything, right?” Jackie asks, frowning slightly. Her enthusiasm begins to dim at your lack of reaction, leaning forward to search your face for any sort of clue as to how you’re feeling. Even now she doesn’t seem to believe you’ll actually answer in the affirmative, looking at you with a quiet expectation that you'll reassure her–tell her, of course not. There's a genuine curiosity to the question, but you know what's underlying it.

You can handle it, handle us, can't you?

“It's just a lot to process,” You lie, trying to make your voice sound steadier than you feel. “I had no idea that you were doing all this for me.”

Jackie's positively beaming at your words, eating that lie right up. She rests herself head against your shoulder, nuzzling her face into the side of your neck as she peppers your skin in brief kisses. Either unaware or uncaring of how tense you'd been previously, but still managing to turn you into mush as you relax back into the sheets. It’s hard to stay upset for long when she’s so damn affectionate all the time, erasing all of your worries before you even realize you have them. Some part of her, however deep, must be aware. But when it comes down to it, how much do you really care?

Shauna looks unconvinced, like she can see at least somewhat through you, but she just absentmindedly rubs circles on Jackie's skin with her thumb. She’s more than content to let Jackie live in her delusional, wholeheartedly supporting most of it, but she won’t ever let you forget that she sees more than you want her to. There’s always something so horribly knowing about her. Always watching, always waiting. Her eyes linger where Jackie presses up against you, a glint of approval in her eyes. She’s pleased with what she’s seeing–the way Jackie clings to you, the way you allow it.

Jackie’s still oblivious, lips grazing your skin like she’s marking you as hers. You, in the brief moments you’d allowed your mind to drift there before you forced yourself to stop, had always imagined Shauna as the more possessive of the two. It was true, to some extent. She was certainly more outwardly possessive, more likely to start a fight with someone just for standing a little too close to you, as she’d done so many times with Jackie. It was like she was always on edge, just waiting for an excuse to unleash all that rage she had inside her. But Jackie was a different breed altogether.

Her need for your attention was constant, suffocating even at times. If she wasn’t in your direct line of sight, she would endeavor to be there as quickly as she could manage, as if you’d forget about her in the twenty minutes you were taking a shower. Her eyes scanned for you constantly, like a nervous animal looking for predators. As if she wasn’t the thing that goes bump in the night. She wasn’t as outwardly aggressive, but she was no less intense for it. The hunger that was always present, how she always needed more from you–your time, your affection, your focus–was almost more dangerous.

“So you’ll come then, next time? Like you promised?” Jackie prompts lowly, her lips brushing against your skin with every word. Her fingers still trail lazy patterns up and down your arm, making it difficult to focus on anything that isn't her. Even as you turn your head to look, you find two pairs of eyes looking back at you: Jackie's hopeful eyes and Shauna's expectant gaze.

“It wouldn't be the same without you,” Shauna adds, her expression neutral as she gauges your reaction. She may try to look uninterested, try to put on some air of indifference, but you know her too well to know that she's not ever capable of that. Beneath that forced calm she's watching intensely, desperate for some sort of reaction.

You remember the way Shauna had looked at you covered in Tatums blood, smug and exhilarated but still so clearly nervous of your reaction. She expected you to react positively because she needed you to. It was as if she believed she could just will your approval into existence as long as she acted like she already had it.

Shauna always got so blank in those moments, shutting herself down like she could stop your reaction from hurting her if she just pretended she didn't care. But Shauna always cared, to a fault even. She was so sensitive, so easily hurt, when you got down to it. Always so ready to read in too far over a simple twitch of your face. If you frown, if you hesitate too long, it's like she's already decided for you how you feel about it.

Jackie was the opposite: while Shauna withdrew, Jackie only clung even tighter. It has made your life complete and utter hell any time you've witnessed them get into a serious disagreement, watching as Shauna retreated to lick at her wounds while Jackie hopelessly chased after her. Every step she took only drove Shauna–who was intent on drowning herself in her anger–further away. Jackie never knew when to let go, and the more she pushed, the more Shauna pulled away. Like the world's most irritating game of tug-of-war.

You can’t remember ever making that promise, not even hinting at it. Yet you find yourself agreeing anyway, nodding your head before you even realize what you're doing. How could you not? They made it so hard to disagree, so hard to deny them anything. You've accepted so much about them, been made complicit in their murder. At this point, you might as well just bite the bullet at join.

“I'll be there,” You promise weakly. It feels inevitable, like there was never another choice for you to make. Really, haven't you been set on this path from the moment they sat across from you in the cafeteria? Before that, even, if you count the time they'd spent planning to make you theirs from afar. They've made you this way, haven't they?

Someone who would say yes without thinking. Someone unable to leave even if you wanted to.

Jackie squeals excitedly, her hands clasping yours and squeezing hard as she presses more losses against your shoulder. Shauna doesn't react right away, but you can't see the way her shoulders carefully start to relax. A pleased upturn of her lips as she snuggles further into Jackie.

Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, as they always do, but you don't feel left out anymore. You're a part of it now, even if it took you a while to realize. No longer tiptoeing around their bond like you've spent so much of your time doing.

Not a spectator, but an integral part of it.

…

You’re the last one out of the classroom, which is probably the only reason it happened to begin with. Deep in thought about the murder you were now expected to join in with, you hadn’t noticed that the bell had rung to dismiss you from class. Your classmates certainly had, a fact you’re made aware of as the door slams behind the last straggler as he slips out the door. It startles you out of your thoughts, a quick glance around the room telling you what you’ve noticed embarrassingly late.

You stuff your things back into your bag, cursing under your breath and not even bothering to slip your papers into folders–Jackie will probably do it herself whenever she so helpfully goes through your bag for you. It definitely has nothing to do with her wanting to go through your stuff. How generous of her, really. You can already imagine the look she’ll give you: that half-fond and half-exasperated look she gives whenever she thinks you're being careless.

No, you’d much rather catch up with your girlfriends after class before Jackie calls the national guard.

The sound of your teacher calling out your name forces you to come to a stop with your hand hovering over the handle. You can just barely catch Shauna’s eyes as she leans against a locker across the hall, looking curiously back at you. It takes everything in you not to react, the interruption raising hell for your already frayed nerves. You pause, considering what would actually happen if you just opened the door and left anyway, before clenching your jaw and reluctantly turning around.

“Mrs. Loomis,” You acknowledge, trying not to let your irritation show. The sooner you get this over with, the sooner you leave. Your hand flexes around the strap of your back, fiddling idly with the end.

Her smile is as strained as you feel, the kind you pull when you should be smiling, but you’re really just uncomfortable and trying not to let the other person know. The pursed lips and the lingering tension around her eyes as she forces a smile does more to project her mood than if she hadn’t bothered to smile at all.

“How are you doing?” She asks, trying to seem kind. Maybe it would’ve been, if not for how cautious it sounded. Careful, even, like she was talking to something about to bite her. You catch the way her eyes flick nervously up and down your figure, darting back to the door just as quickly. She seems just as eager as you are to leave, and it makes you wonder why she had bothered to stop you at all.

How are you doing? Like she has some kind of right to ask that of you? A bitter feeling wells up in your chest, as much as you try to push it down. She, of all people, should know. You haven’t forgotten the way she looked at you when the cops had first shown up to interview you–the way she’d turned you over to them without a shred of hesitation on her part. None of the concern she seems to possess in droves now. Mrs. Loomis hadn’t even had the decency to tell your classmates off for their whispering, pretending not to see whenever you’d given her a desperate look on a particularly brutal day.

All she ever offered you was silence. It wasn’t her problem, was it?

No, you’ve seen that look before. A concern that’s really just poorly veiled suspicion, when they’re too afraid to confront you about whatever they think they know about you. Far too cowardly to come out and ask you directly.

“I’m fine,” You say stiffly, almost cutting her off. It wouldn’t matter what she had to say to you anyway. You were passed the days of wanting her to help you.

“How are those girls you hang out with?” She asks, leaning back against her desk with a move that she clearly thinks looks casual. You can almost see the gears turning in her head as she picks her angle.

“Fine.” Your eyes drift unbidden back to the door, knowing the two of them must still be waiting for you in the hall. The thought fills you with an equal mix of comfort in dread, burdened by the weight of their secret–your secret, soon enough. Mrs. Loomis doesn’t miss the shift in your attention, suddenly standing up straighter as she refocuses.

“It's just…” She trails off, clasping her hands in front of her. It’s like she knows she’s going somewhere she shouldn’t, but she’s too curious–or worried–to stop herself. “How well do you think you know them?”

Your eyes narrow, suspicion flaring hot in your chest. The question lands with all the subtlety of a punch in the face, immediately putting you on edge as you start to size her up. You hadn’t expected this line of questioning in the slightest, and you don’t at all appreciate the insinuation in her voice. How dare she sit here and point fingers at things she doesn’t understand when she’s spent so long turning her back on you.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

She doesn’t flinch, which surprises you, but there’s a flicker of something in her eyes. Fear or surprise–you’re not sure, but you know you don’t like it. Whatever it is, she quickly tries to mask it with another fake smile, the same tight-lipped smile she gave you as your life fell apart.

“I just wonder if you’ve considered what sort of influence they’ve been having on you. You’ve been different since you started hanging off of them.” You don’t like the way she says that, not one bit. The almost condescending way she says it, hanging off of them, like you were some sort of leach. Like your presence was somehow unwanted. Or maybe she meant it a different way. Maybe she was just insinuating that it was a phase, that you were somehow falling into the wrong crowd.

Each word is chosen carefully, each designed to seem as unthreatening as possible, but the warning is clear in her voice. The insinuation cuts deep, sending a wave of panic through your body even as you try to remain unaffected.

What does she know? Or, rather, what does she think she knows? Half truths and suspicions can be deadly in the wrong hands. You of all people were aware of how deep they could cut if wielded correctly. Mrs. Loomis was playing with fire, but you don’t think she realized.

It takes a concentrated effort to keep the nerves out of your voice as you say, “They’re my friends.” It’s not quite as certain as you’d like it to be, but that could work in your favor if only you could play it correctly. Trying to dance around accusations wasn’t your strong suit, not by far. She doesn’t buy it, you can tell.

Maybe it’s because it’s not entirely true, not anymore. Mrs. Loomis has picked up on something in your voice, but you doubt that it’s the truth. She hears your hesitation on the word friends and draws the wrong conclusion from it. She thinks that you have reasons to doubt their affection, that you could doubt their loyalty over something as simple as her words. It isn’t doubt that makes you falter–it’s the memory of hands on your skin, of kisses, and so much more shared in the dark.

Jackie and Shauna–they’re so much more than your friends. They’ve pulled you into their mess, into their darkness, and you’ve let them. You’ve had so many times to dig your feet in, even if it wouldn’t have ultimately made a difference, but again and again you’ve let yourself be moved with the current. Maybe you’ve always wanted it. Needed it, even.

“Sometimes people we think are friends aren’t looking out for our best interests,” Mrs. Loomis says slowly, a pitying smile crossing her face. It makes you feel so small and insignificant. “You’ll learn that when you’re older.”

Falling in with the wrong crowd, then. What had she noticed? A small part of you wants to scream, to ask her why now. Why not when you needed someone, anyone, to believe you? It’s too late now–for you and for her.

You knew Shauna would want to do something about her, that this insult couldn’t go unanswered. Especially when she was already on the prowl for someone else. It was so pathetic that she had even dared to try, meddling in what she would never understand. Whatever she thinks she knows–whatever scraps of truth she’s managed to put together from idle gossip she upholds as truth–couldn’t be close to the reality of it.

“It’s awful, what’s been happening to you. I believe you’re innocent, but those girls are no good. You should see the way they look at you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think...” There’s a finality to her words, like she’s already decided the ending and has written it for you. Even now she doesn’t even bother to offer you help, offering a few half-hearted words of wisdom and expecting you to do all the work of fixing it. She’s judging you again. That’s all this is in the end.

Your hands clench tightly into fists by your side, almost shaking with the effort not to start yelling. You can feel your fingernails digging into your skin hard enough that you start to worry you’ll draw blood. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing, you think bitterly. Letting her know that she could ever get to you. You hate this: the way she talks to you like you’re some child.

More than anything, you hate how small it makes you feel. Weak. Helpless. And maybe that’s why you keep wondering what Shauna would do about it. What Jackie would want to do, what she would help you do. You run through the scenarios in your mind, each one more gory than the last. The thoughts of bloodshed are the only things that manage to calm you, finally allowing you to give Mrs. Loomis a stiff nod.

Wouldn’t it just be so easy to handle it their way for once? Your way, ignoring it and hoping things changed, hadn’t been all that effective lately. You’ve taken the high road for months on end and have nothing left to show for it.

Jackie greets you the second you step out of the door, hands pressing against your shoulders in a way that would have you anxiously glancing around the hall if you didn’t already know it was empty. She pulls you forward by the straps of your bag, pressing a kiss against your cheek in full view of that tiny door window. You wonder if Mrs. Loomis saw, but decided that she must’ve. You’d easily seen Shauna from where you were standing, and you knew your teacher was probably going out of her way to look. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care, not this time.

Even Shauna notices that fact.

“Forget to do your homework?” Shauna asks, lips pursed tight. She, of course, already knew that wasn’t true. It was obvious she didn’t have the skill of subtlety that Jackie so often used to dance around the question, but you appreciated the bluntness of it all. She doesn’t say it in so many words, but you feel it in your bones nonetheless. What did she want with you?

“It seems you’re quite the topic of discussion lately,” you say dryly.

Shauna hums. “Is that right?”

It’s easier this way, to get ahead of it.

Jackie doesn’t pull away, her thumbs rubbing thoughtful circles against your shoulders as her grip tightens around the strap of your bag. “What did she say?”

“Asked me how well I knew you. Insinuated that she thought I was falling into the wrong crowd. That I was just hanging off you.” You don’t bother to hide the bitterness in your voice. Why should you? Not when they would understand, when they would spark your ire into a burning fire. You want them to.

Shauna goes absolutely rigid, her mind racing as she looks between the two of you. “She doesn’t know anything.” It’s both a statement and a question, like she isn’t quite sure herself.

“No,” you agree. “But she thinks she does.”

“She’ll be watching,” Jackie adds thoughtfully. The word lingers long after it leaves her lips, heavy with implication.

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #shauna shipman x reader #jackie taylor x reader

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edenesth · 11 months ago

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In Pursuit of Serendipity

Pairing: best friend!Hyunjin x fem!reader

AU: high school au

Word Count: 14.8k

Summary: Your friendship is tested when Hyunjin starts crushing on his new classmate. What you didn't expect was that your own emotions would come into play. Denying your feelings, you decide to be the ultimate wingwoman, helping him while battling your own heartache in silence. Will the pursuit of love lead to happiness or heartbreak?

A/N: Lowkey inspired by the Mixtape: On Track music video, still one of my favourite MVs from SKZ.

MAIN MASTERLIST

The busy hallways of your high school were alive with the energy of students rushing to their next classes.

Amidst the sea of students, you made your way through the crowded corridors with an excitement that bubbled within you. The reason for your enthusiasm swung in your hand—a gaming magazine had just revealed the release date of the highly anticipated video game you'd been eagerly awaiting.

Hyunjin and Felix, your partners in crime since kindergarten, were waiting for you.

As you neared your usual meeting spot, a sudden obstacle appeared in the form of an unnoticed puddle. Before you could react, your foot lost its grip, sending you careening toward an embarrassing collision with the cold, tiled floor. In a split second, strong arms wrapped around you, breaking your fall.

"Whoa there! Quick reflexes, Hyunjin style." Hyunjin exclaimed, his grin showcasing his pride at the successful save.

Felix laughed heartily, "Nice dive! You should consider joining the school's gymnastics team, though I hear their routine doesn't involve slipping in the hallways."

You shot him a playful glare as he approached to make sure you were unharmed, "Thanks, Jinnie. And you," You said, turning to Felix, "Can save your sarcasm for someone else."

Felix chuckled, brushing off imaginary dirt from your shoulder, "Just making sure you're in one piece. You know, you should work on your gracefulness. It's not very lady-like to trip and fall."

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, "Oh, please. Who needs grace when you've got Hyunjin's superhero reflexes? And besides, I'm not planning to win any 'Miss Graceful' contests."

Hyunjin grinned, leaning against the row of lockers, "True that. But you might want to consider it. You'll never find a boyfriend if you keep stumbling around like a bull in a china shop."

You scoffed, the idea of conforming to societal expectations not even registering on your radar, "Who said I'm looking for a boyfriend anyway? I'm perfectly content with my PS5 and the upcoming release of Assassin's Creed. Relationships can wait."

Felix raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing look with Hyunjin, "Famous last words. We'll see how long that sentiment lasts."

You brushed off their teasing with a nonchalant wave, determined to keep your priorities in check. As the three of you continued down the hallway, you couldn't help smiling at the thought of the virtual adventures awaiting you in the upcoming game—an escape from the typical high school drama and the perfect reminder that, for now, you were content marching to the beat of your own, unapologetically clumsy, drum.

After grabbing a light breakfast together from the school cafeteria, you, Hyunjin, and Felix made your way through the bustling hallways, weaving through the student traffic. Despite being part of different classes, your morning ritual of meeting up for breakfast had become a comforting constant.

As you reached the fork in the hallway leading to your respective classrooms, Felix grinned, "See you guys at lunch. Don't trip over your own feet without me around to catch you!"

You playfully nudged him, "I'll try my best, Captain Obvious."

Felix waved, disappearing into his classroom, leaving you and Hyunjin to continue down the corridor. Although your class was situated at the far end of the school, you were used to the daily trek. Hyunjin, however, insisted on walking you there, despite the inconvenience it posed for him.

"Why do you bother walking me all the way to my class, Jinnie?" You asked, your voice tinged with amusement as you walked side by side.

He shot you a teasing grin, "Well, for one, I don't trust your coordination skills without Felix or me around. And secondly, what if there's a stampede, or a meteor falls from the sky? I need to be sure you make it to class in one piece."

You scoffed, "A stampede? Really?"

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, adopting a mock-serious tone, "You never know. High school can be a dangerous place."

You rolled your eyes, but a smile lingered on your lips. It was moments like these that reminded you of the unique bond you shared with your friends. Despite the exaggeration, there was a genuine concern in his eyes that touched your heart.

Nearing the entrance of your classroom, you stopped, "You really don't have to do this every day, you know. I can handle walking to class without tripping."

Hyunjin leaned against the wall, his expression softening, "I know you can, but I want to. Call it my daily act of heroism."

You chuckled, shaking your head, "Fine, you overprotective hero. Thanks for the escort to class."

He grinned, walking you right up to the door, "Anytime, damsel in distress. I'll see you at lunch, okay?"

You nodded, feeling a warmth in your chest at the genuine care your friends showered upon you, "Okay. Don't save too many people on your way to class."

With a playful salute, Hyunjin turned to make his way to his own classroom. You watched him go, appreciating the small gestures that defined your friendship. As the classroom door closes behind you, you feel a sense of gratitude for the protective duo that made your high school journey more adventurous and, most importantly, full of genuine companionship.

Later that day, the cafeteria buzzed with the usual lunchtime chaos as you approached your designated spot between Hyunjin and Felix, your tray already waiting for you. Your heart warmed at the sight, and you skipped over with an infectious beam.

Felix, always quick with banter, smirked at you, "Look who decided to grace us with her presence. You missed the riveting conversation about Hyunjin's newfound muse."

Your eyes flickered to Hyunjin, whose cheeks sported a subtle shade of pink. Felix couldn't resist the opportunity to tease, "He wouldn't shut up about her just before you arrived."

You slid into your seat, the playful glint in Felix's eyes not escaping you, "Oh, really? What did I miss?"

Felix leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "Our dear friend Hyunjin here has developed a massive crush on the new girl in his class. Couldn't stop talking about her smile, her laugh, you know, the works."

Hyunjin shot Felix a mock glare, but his eyes twinkled with an undeniable excitement, "Felix is exaggerating, as usual. I just mentioned her once or twice."

The three of you were engrossed in the conversation when, like clockwork, the cafeteria doors swung open. Hyunjin's head snapped up, his gaze fixating on a girl who entered with an effortless grace. She was undeniably beautiful—Lia, the new girl who had captured your friend's attention.

"There she is." Hyunjin whispered, as if afraid the mere mention of her name would make her disappear. Lia glided through the cafeteria, a radiant presence that drew the attention of many. You couldn't deny the allure; she had an undeniable charm that seemed to captivate everyone in her vicinity.

While Felix seemed excited for Hyunjin, you couldn't shake off the inexplicable discomfort settling in the pit of your stomach. You smiled, or at least you tried to, but it felt forced.

As Lia joined a group of students at a nearby table, laughter and animated conversations surrounding her, you couldn't help but wonder why the idea of Hyunjin being enamoured by her left you feeling strangely uneasy.

Oblivious to the atmosphere shift, Felix continued to prod Hyunjin about Lia. But as your eyes met Hyunjin's, you sensed a vulnerability beneath his excitement—a vulnerability you hadn't seen before. The unspoken truth lingered in the air, and you couldn't escape the realisation that your heart seemed to protest against the prospect of him falling for someone else for reasons you couldn't quite comprehend.

In the following days, you found yourself caught in a web of conflicting emotions. You tried to rationalise the unease that had settled within you, convincing yourself that it was merely a consequence of your friends growing up. After all, it was only natural for them to develop romantic interests outside your tight-knit trio.

You repeated the logic like a mantra, assuring yourself that this discomfort was nothing more than an adjustment period.

"It's just new," You told yourself, stirring your food absentmindedly during lunch. Felix continued his good-natured teasing about Hyunjin's infatuation with Lia, blissfully unaware of the internal struggle you were facing, "They're growing up, finding other people. It's normal. You'll get used to it."

Yet, as days turned into weeks, the knot in your stomach refused to loosen. You grappled with the notion that the dynamics of your friendship were shifting, and it wasn't centred solely around the three of you anymore. The idea of someone else occupying Hyunjin's thoughts in a way you hadn't witnessed before tugged at a thread of discomfort deep within you.

"It's just silly jealousy," You scolded yourself in the quiet moments of introspection, "He's my friend, and I should be happy for him."

Deep down, you couldn't ignore the hope that Hyunjin's crush was just a passing phase—a temporary diversion that would fade with time. You yearned for the days when your trio's world revolved around shared laughter and inside jokes, not about some new girl that caught your friend's attention.

One day, as you all gathered for lunch as usual, Felix couldn't resist poking at Hyunjin once again, "Come on, Jinnie, just admit it. You're head over heels for Lia."

Hyunjin sighed, his cheeks tinged with a mixture of embarrassment and genuine affection, "Fine. I like her, okay? Happy now?"

Felix's victorious grin was matched only by the subtle tightening of your chest. You forced a smile, attempting to mask the twinge of disappointment.

As the conversation continued, Hyunjin's genuine excitement about Lia became increasingly evident. Felix's teasing took on a more playful tone, but every word seemed to emphasise the growing reality that your friend was genuinely interested in someone beyond the confines of your trio.

Each day that passed, Hyunjin's interest in Lia became a constant presence in your lives. While he physically joined you and Felix for breakfast and lunch, his mind seemed to linger elsewhere. Conversations that were once filled with silly jokes now revolved around Lia—her interests, her quirks, and every mundane detail that seemed to captivate Hyunjin's attention.

The unintentional distance you felt from Hyunjin left you perplexed and, admittedly, frustrated. Despite your attempts to rationalise these emotions, a growing sense of unease settled within you. It was as if the equilibrium of your friendship had been disrupted, leaving you feeling somewhat adrift.

One day, after Hyunjin had passionately detailed yet another encounter with Lia during lunch, you found yourself unable to contain the frustration any longer.

In the quiet corner of the school courtyard, away from prying eyes and curious ears, you decided to confide in Felix. As you sat on the familiar park bench, the one where countless secrets had been shared among the three of you, you hesitated before finally breaking the silence.

"Lix, I don't know what's going on. I mean, I should be happy for Hyunjin, right? But every time he talks about Lia, it's like... I don't know, something's off. It's like he's here with us physically, but his mind is somewhere else."

Felix regarded you with a knowing gaze, the crinkles in his eyes softened with understanding, "Feelings are complicated. It's okay to feel the way you do. Maybe it's just an adjustment period. Things will settle down."

You sighed, grateful for his calm demeanour, "I've tried telling myself that, but it doesn't seem to be getting any better. It's just frustrating. I miss the way things used to be."

Felix leaned in, his tone gentle, "Change is hard, especially when it comes to friendships. But maybe Hyunjin needs this. Maybe it's his time to explore something beyond our trio. And who knows, it might just be a phase. People get caught up in new crushes, but that doesn't mean they forget their old friends."

You nodded, appreciating his perspective, "I just wish I could understand why I feel this way. It's like... I'm happy for him, but there's this nagging discomfort that won't go away."

Felix placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, "Give it time. Sometimes, feelings need time to catch up with logic. And in the meantime, know that I'm here for you, no matter what."

In the days that followed, you made a conscious effort to follow Felix's advice. You reminded yourself that Hyunjin's sudden obsession with Lia was his first experience with romantic feelings, and it was only natural for him to be caught up in the excitement of it all.

Trying to be understanding, you even forced a smile when he recounted every interaction with Lia, assuring yourself that this phase would pass.

But just as you began to convince yourself that you had your emotions in check, things took an unexpected turn. Hyunjin, who had always insisted on walking you to class, suddenly approached you with an apologetic expression.

"Hey, listen, I'm sorry, but I can't walk you to class anymore." He admitted, avoiding eye contact.

The unexpected blow left you momentarily speechless, "What? Why?"

Hyunjin sighed, looking genuinely conflicted, "It's just... I don't want Lia to misunderstand our relationship. I mean, she might think there's something more between us, you know?"

Your initial shock gave way to a slow-burning frustration. While you wanted to be supportive of his budding romance, the abrupt change felt like a direct hit to the heart. The walks to class, once a cherished routine, now seemed like a relic of a time when your friendship hadn't been overshadowed by romantic entanglements.

Forcing a tight smile, you responded, "Sure, Hyunjin. Do whatever makes you comfortable."

As he walked away, leaving you standing alone in the hallway, you felt a sense of abandonment. The once-predictable rhythms of your friendship were now distorted, and the realisation that you were no longer a priority stung more than you cared to admit.

Felix, perceptive as ever, noticed the change in your demeanour. As he joined you in the hallway, he raised an eyebrow, "What's up with Hyunjin? I thought he was going to walk you to class."

You sighed, the weight of unspoken emotions heavy on your shoulders, "He said he can't anymore. Doesn't want Lia to get the wrong idea about us."

Felix's expression shifted from curiosity to a mixture of understanding and concern, "I know this is tough, but maybe he's just caught up in the excitement of his first crush. It doesn't mean he values your friendship any less."

You nodded, acknowledging his attempt to console you, "I get that, but it still hurts, you know? It's like our friendship is being redefined, and I don't know where I fit in anymore."

Felix offered a sympathetic smile, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder, "Give it time. I'm sure things will settle down eventually. And in the meantime, you've got me. We'll figure it out together."

As Hyunjin's infatuation with Lia intensified, you found yourself grappling with the remnants of the once-familiar routine that now seemed like a distant memory.

One afternoon, as the final school bell echoed through the hallways, you made your way to the usual meeting spot where you and Hyunjin would walk home together. However, your anticipation gave way to disappointment as you saw him engrossed in conversation with Lia, the two of them making plans to spend time together after school.

Felix, who had been watching your expression closely, slung an arm around your shoulder, "Hey, don't let it get to you. You know, it's okay to feel upset."

"I'm not upset." You retorted, but the hurt in your eyes betrayed your attempt at nonchalance.

Felix raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips, "You can't fool me, idiot. It's written all over your face. You miss your walks home with him, don't you?"

You sighed, giving in to the acknowledgement of your feelings, "Yeah, I guess I do. It's stupid, though. Friends hang out with other people. It's not a big deal."

Felix squeezed your shoulder gently, "It's okay to feel this way, you know. And there's nothing 'stupid' about it. You're allowed to miss your friend."

As you walked home with Felix that day, the silence between you spoke volumes. The absence of Hyunjin, once a comforting presence by your side, left a void that seemed to echo with the uncertainty of changing friendships.

The following days only deepened the ache.

Your attempts to be the supportive friend, cheering Hyunjin on as he pursued Lia, felt increasingly like a façade. The more you tried to suppress your feelings, the more they seemed to claw at the edges of your consciousness.

It was during one of your late-night conversations with Felix, the dim glow of streetlights casting shadows on your faces, that he broached the subject with a keen intuition that caught you off guard.

"You know," Felix said, his gaze fixed on the stars above, "It's possible you're jealous because you have feelings for Hyunjin."

Your immediate reaction was a vehement denial. How could you harbour romantic feelings for your childhood friend, especially when you had always prided yourself on being the voice of reason within the trio?

Oh hell nah, ain't no freaking way.

But as Felix turned to look at you, his eyes filled with understanding, you felt a sudden vulnerability. Despite your initial resistance, you couldn't escape the possibility that he was right. Your feelings for Hyunjin might indeed transcend the boundaries of friendship.

"What? Are you hearing yourself, Lix? That's insane!" You laughed incredulously, dismissing his implication with a wave of your hand. The idea of having romantic feelings for Hyunjin seemed preposterous to you, and you were determined to push aside any inkling of such emotions.

Felix, however, frowned at your attempt to brush off the subject. He could sense the unease beneath your laughter, the subtle deflection in your words, "I know you better than you think. You can't deny what you're feeling."

You scoffed, refusing to let his words penetrate your resolve, "Me? Having feelings for Hwang Hyunjin? Did you hit your head or something?" You chuckled, playing off the notion as absurd.

But as you met Felix's serious expression, you recognised the gravity of the situation. He was about to talk some sense into you, to unravel the emotions you had been desperately trying to suppress. But before he could utter a word, you beat him to it.

"Just watch me, Lix. I'll prove you wrong." Your tone carried a determined edge, a promise to yourself that you could navigate these confusing emotions without succumbing to what seemed like an inconvenient truth.

Felix sighed heavily, realising that there was little he could do if you were determined to turn a blind eye to your own feelings. He knew that sometimes, facing the truth required a vulnerability that not everyone was ready to embrace.

As you gathered for your breakfast routine one morning, Hyunjin began his usual recounting of Lia's latest escapades, and you found yourself unable to bear it any longer.

"Hyunjin," You interrupted, the words escaping before you could reconsider, "I'm sick of seeing you pine after Lia. It's distracting, and I can't focus on anything else. So, I've decided to help you win her heart."

Ecstasy washed over his face, "Really? You'd help me?"

You nodded, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, "Yeah, I mean, why not? You deserve to be happy, right?"

Hyunjin's eyes lit up, and he immediately pulled you into a tight hug, "Thank you! You're the best! I'll buy you the next Assassin's Creed game when Lia agrees to be my girlfriend!"

As he cheered, Felix observed the scene with a mixture of disbelief and realisation. It dawned on him that your seemingly selfless act of playing matchmaker wasn't entirely altruistic. A smirk played on his lips as he shook his head, understanding the true motive behind your plan.

"So, this was your way of proving me wrong, huh?" Felix remarked, his voice carrying a note of amusement.

You avoided his gaze, the charade now exposed, "I just want him to be happy. That's all."

Felix chuckled, seeing through the act, "Sure. Just remember, you can't run from your feelings forever."

Later that evening, you walked home with Hyunjin for the first time in what felt like ages. But the reason behind his company left a bitter taste in your mouth. It wasn't because he missed your walks or longed for the friendship you once shared. No, the only reason was to strategise about his mission to win Lia's heart.

As you strolled down the sidewalk, Hyunjin excitedly started talking about his plan, "So, I was thinking maybe I should join some clubs or events that she's interested in. What do you think?"

You pushed all unnecessary thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand, "Sure, that sounds like a good idea. We need to figure out what she likes and find a way for you to connect with her."

The mention of 'we' felt strangely out of place, a reminder of the changed dynamics between you and Hyunjin. Nevertheless, you pushed those feelings aside, determined to help your friend succeed in his pursuit of happiness.

Felix, who had been watching the interaction with an amused smirk, couldn't resist commenting, "Look at you two, planning Hyunjin's love story. Who would've thought?"

You shot him a glare, not appreciating the smugness in his tone, "This is for Hyunjin, Lix, not for your amusement."

Felix raised his hands defensively, "Alright, alright. I'm just enjoying the show."

As you neared your doorstep, you took a deep breath, ready to lay out a rough plan for Hyunjin, "Okay, here's what we're going to do. First, we need to find out more about Lia's hobbies and interests. Once we have that information, we can create opportunities for you to interact with her in a more meaningful way."

Hyunjin nodded eagerly, trusting you with the details of his mission, "Leave it all to you. You're the best."

As you arrived at your doorstep, Hyunjin gave you a thankful hug before skipping off to his home just a few blocks away. Sighing deeply, you feel a twinge of emptiness. The hug felt different, less like a shared moment between friends and more like a transaction—gratitude for a service rendered.

With renewed determination, you wasted no time. The moment you stepped inside your room, you pulled out your phone and began stalking all of Lia's social media accounts. Your mission was clear: decipher her likes, dislikes, and everything in between.

Little did you know that this quest, seemingly straightforward, would lead you down a path of self-discovery and unexpected twists, challenging the boundaries of friendship and forcing you to confront emotions you had long been trying to ignore.

As the days unfolded, you immersed yourself in the role of the ultimate wingman. Your efforts to assist Hyunjin in winning Lia's heart were meticulous, each action carefully calculated to showcase his best qualities. Despite the outward display of support, a quiet turmoil brewed within you, a storm of conflicting emotions that threatened to break through the carefully constructed façade.

In your quest to prove Felix wrong, you inadvertently delved deeper into the complexities of your own heart. The more you tried to suppress the whispers of your own feelings, the more they seemed to echo in the quiet moments of self-reflection.

As Felix watched you navigate this internal struggle, he wished you would just confront the truth instead of burying it beneath the guise of friendship.

With your careful planning and Hyunjin's sincere efforts, you watched as he began to get things right. He made it a point to learn about Lia's favourite snacks and beverages, surprising her with thoughtful treats that garnered appreciative smiles. Conversations shifted from superficial exchanges to discussions about her favourite pastime activities, creating a connection that seemed to grow with every shared moment.

You watched from afar as he transformed himself, aligning with the qualities he knew she admired. He became more attentive, more considerate, and tailored his actions to better appeal to the type of guys she was attracted to.

While the genuine nature of his intentions was evident, each successful move felt like another layer of separation between the Hyunjin you knew and the person he was becoming for Lia.

Then came the pivotal moment.

Fueled by newfound confidence, he approached Lia and managed to ask her out on a date. From the way he pumped his fists in the air in victory, it was clear that she said yes. As he turned around to look for you, a beaming smile on his face, he spotted you observing the scene. With a thumbs up and eyes filled with excitement, he acknowledged your silent support.

Despite the clenching in your heart, you smiled back and clapped, showing him that you were genuinely happy for his success. The internal conflict between your desire to see your friend happy and the undeniable twinge of discomfort lingered in the background.

It was a bittersweet moment, a celebration of his triumph in love, overshadowed by the realisation that the dynamics of your friendship had undergone a significant shift.

During lunch, the three of you gathered as usual, but the atmosphere was tinged with an unspoken tension. As you sat with your tray, Felix shot you a look, his expression a mix of disapproval and concern. You avoided his eyes, focusing on your food and pretending not to notice his silent judgment.

The news of Hyunjin and Lia's upcoming first date buzzed around the table, and despite the apparent excitement, Felix's gaze lingered on you. He wished you knew that he was only trying to protect you, a silent plea echoing in his eyes. Deep down, he feared that all this effort might lead to you getting hurt in the end.

As the conversation flowed, Felix couldn't contain his disapproval any longer, "So, playing matchmaker seems to be working well for you and Hyunjin." He remarked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

You glanced up, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before averting your gaze, "Yeah, I guess it is."

Felix sighed, the concern etched on his face, "I hope you know what you're doing. Playing with emotions is a risky game."

You could sense the genuine worry in his words, but a stubborn determination held you captive. You knew there was a risk involved, but you've already come this far. It was as if a self-imposed obligation drove you to see this through until the end, no matter the consequences.

As the lunch bell rang, signalling the end of the break, Felix shot you one last look—a mix of caution and understanding. The unspoken conversation between you two lingered in the air, a silent acknowledgement of the uncertainties that lay ahead.

With a deep breath, you steeled yourself for what was to come. The journey you embarked upon had no clear destination, but one thing was certain: you're committed to helping Hyunjin until the end.

As the final bell rang, signalling the end of the school day, you gathered your belongings, preparing to head home. Just as you were about to make your way through the crowded hallway, Hyunjin rushed up to you, grabbing your wrist in his haste. Startled, he twisted you around, and for a brief moment, your eyes rounded at the close proximity between your faces.

His eyes widened in realisation, and he immediately stepped back, stammering, "S-sorry, I was just—"

You shook your head, feigning nonchalance despite the racing of your heart, "It's fine, what is it?"

Hyunjin beamed at your question, his initial awkwardness dissipating, "I need your help in picking an outfit for my date this weekend."

You ignored the sharp stab you felt in your heart at the cruel reminder. Suppressing your emotions, you nodded, "Of course, I'll send you some ideas tonight."

But he shook his head, a hopeful glint in his eyes, "No, I was hoping you could come over before the date and help me put together something nice...?"

You blinked, surprised by the unexpected request, "Why not get Felix to help you with that?"

Hyunjin pouted, swinging your arm around playfully, "Oh, come on, you're the one who promised to help me until the end, right?"

Sighing, you realised he was right. It was your commitment, not Felix's. Relenting, you nodded, "Alright, fine. Sheesh. I'll see you then."

Hyunjin cheered, thanking you profusely before running off, presumably heading to spend time with Lia. As he disappeared into the crowd, you couldn't shake off the lingering discomfort that settled in your chest.

Hang in there, you can do this.

Standing in front of the mirror, you scrutinised yourself for the umpteenth time before questioning your actions. Why did it matter how you looked to Hyunjin? After all, you'd literally grown up together, and he'd seen you at your best and worst. The reflection staring back at you seemed to mock the unnecessary anxiety that had settled in.

The sound of your phone's notifications going off snapped you out of your thoughts. Unlocking the device, you found texts from both Hyunjin and Felix. Hyunjin's message was playful, urging you to hurry over, 'Bestie, get your ass over here already!!!😭'

Felix's text, however, carried a different tone, one of understanding and support, 'Hyunjin told me you're going over to help him. I know nothing I say can change your mind, but I just want you to know that no matter what happens, I'll be here for you.'

Reading Felix's words nearly brought tears to your eyes. It was a reminder of the loneliness that came with keeping these feelings to yourself. In that moment, you realise the weight of the emotions you've chosen to carry alone. But there was no one else to blame; you made the choice yourself, and now it was time to finish what you started.

With a deep breath, you locked your phone and shook off the lingering self-doubt. Adjusting your outfit one final time, you muttered a quiet affirmation to yourself and headed towards Hyunjin's house.

Upon arriving, you were greeted by his infectious excitement, "Finally, you're here! I need your expert fashion advice."

Suppressing the internal turmoil, you forced a smile, "Alright, let's get this over with."

As you entered his room, surrounded by the familiar scent of his space, you felt a twinge of nostalgia. The memories of your friendship flooded back, but now, they were tainted with a layer of complexity.

The process of picking an outfit began, with you providing suggestions and Hyunjin trying on various combinations. Looking at him more closely now, you hated that you suddenly found him so attractive.

You watched as he struggled with some of the buttons on his shirt before looking up at you with a pout, "Some help would be nice?"

His request cut through the air, and you couldn't hide the inward sigh. The situation was already complicated enough, and now he was making things even more difficult. Rolling your eyes in a feigned display of annoyance, you walked up to him, determined to maintain a facade of indifference.

As you carefully worked through the buttons, your concentration remained fixed on the task at hand. Hyunjin, however, couldn't help but let his gaze remain on you. His eyes naturally drifted downward, taking in the familiar sight of you deep in focus. At that moment, he found you adorable, with your tongue poking out from the corner of your lips and a small frown between your eyes.

Huh, guess not much has changed.

Standing up close, he began to notice details he hadn't paid attention to before. Your eyelashes were surprisingly long, framing expressive eyes that held a history of shared laughter and secrets. The baby fat in your cheeks had disappeared after the braces, leaving behind a more defined and mature look. He also noticed how pink and soft your lips appeared.

The realisation hit him like a wave—have you always looked this pretty? The question lingered in his mind, surprising even himself with the depth of observation he was suddenly making. It wasn't that he hadn't considered your attractiveness before, but in this moment, with the proximity and the shared history, it became more pronounced.

Finished with the last button, you stepped back, offering a casual comment, "There. All set."

Your best friend, however, remained silent for a moment, his thoughts still lingering on the newfound awareness of your features. The atmosphere in the room had shifted, unspoken sentiments hanging between you two.

Standing at his doorstep, Hyunjin, ready to go on his date with Lia, smiled down at you, "Thank you for your time and effort," You shook your head, "No worries, good luck and have fun." But as you turned to leave, a peculiar sense of unease settled in him; it didn't feel right watching you go by yourself.

Before you could take more than a few steps, you were surprised to find him beside you, matching your pace, "What are you doing? You'll be late if you don't go now."

He shrugged, unable to fully grasp his own actions but feeling the need to do this, "It's fine, Lia can wait a bit. I'll walk you home. You came all this way to help me. It's the least I could do."

Your heart skipped a beat at that gesture. For the first time since Lia entered your lives, he was putting you first, prioritising you over her. But the conflicting emotions only intensified; it wasn't making things any easier for you.

Reaching your home, you shooed him with a teasing smile, "Alright, I'm home safe. Now, hurry and go get your dream girl."

He smiled back but didn't move from his spot. You shook your head and playfully pushed him, "Go, you idiot. What are you—"

Suddenly, he pulled you into his arms for a hug, his lips close to your ear, "She may be my dream girl right now, but you'll always be my number one."

Your breath hitched at those unexpected words. Before you could react, he pulled away and ran off, leaving you standing there, a mix of confusion and warmth swirling within.

Stop doing this to me, Hwang Hyunjin.

The restaurant was adorned with soft lights and a pleasant ambience, the perfect setting for a romantic evening.

But Hyunjin was struggling to enjoy his first date with Lia as much as he had anticipated. Despite having dreamed of dating her for so long, his mind seemed to be preoccupied with thoughts that he couldn't fully understand.

As Lia spoke, sharing stories and laughter, he felt a subtle distraction, his mind involuntarily drifting back to you. It was as if a veil had been lifted, and he found himself unknowingly comparing his date to you. Of course, Lia was undeniably beautiful, a fact that anyone with functioning eyes could see. But she just wasn't... you? He didn't know about anyone else, but to him, you were prettier.

Realising the direction of his thoughts, Hyunjin mentally slapped himself for disrespecting Lia in such a way. Determined to salvage the date, he forced himself to focus on what she was saying, pushing away the distracting comparisons.

However, as the evening unfolded, he couldn't shake off the subtle feeling that the date wasn't going as well as he'd expected. He blamed himself for the disconnect, fully aware that he was the one responsible for the disarray of his own emotions.

Attempting to be present in the moment, he engaged in conversation, trying to enjoy the company of the girl he had dreamt of for so long. But the shadow of conflicting thoughts persisted, casting a pall over what should have been a joyful and momentous occasion.

As the night progressed, Hyunjin found himself immersed in a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. Despite his efforts to be present on his dream date with Lia, a growing sense of unease crept in. The realisation dawned on him like a quiet storm—he wasn't being entirely honest with her, and perhaps, more importantly, he wasn't being true to himself.

The version of himself that Lia had come to like was a meticulously crafted persona, tailored to fit her preferences. They engaged in activities she enjoyed, ate food she liked, and talked about subjects that captivated her. He even dressed in a way that he believed appealed to her tastes. In the process, he wondered if Lia liked him for who he truly was or merely for the version of himself he had presented to win her over.

If he were to be himself, would Lia have liked him at all? The sincerity of their interactions seemed to be overshadowed by the facade he constructed. It made him question the authenticity of their connection.

Aside from that, a more profound doubt surfaced—he questioned whether he genuinely liked Lia for who she was or if he was just infatuated with the idea of her. Was he captivated by the fantasy he created in his mind, rather than the reality of the person sitting across from him?

That night, the weight of the evening's revelations lingered as he collapsed onto his bed after sending Lia home.

Sighing heavily, he thought about the missed opportunity. He hadn't kissed her goodbye like he used to imagine. Instead, all he managed was a simple 'goodnight, see you at school next week' before leaving her doorstep. It wasn't the romantic farewell he envisioned, but the weight of his internal conflicts restrained him.

In the solitude of his room, he decided that it was time for a change. He acknowledged that the version of himself he'd presented to Lia wasn't sustainable, nor was it fair to either of them. With a newfound resolve, he made a decision—he would give her another chance, but this time, he wanted to be genuine, to be himself.

Perhaps, if he allowed Lia to see the real him, and if he took the time to genuinely understand her, there might be a chance for something more authentic to blossom between them.

With this resolve in mind, Hyunjin closed his eyes, attempting to push all thoughts of you out of his mind. You were his best friend, and he had to remind himself of that fact. As sleep claimed him, he envisioned a future where the real him and the real Lia could find common ground, unburdened by the illusions that initially clouded their connection.

The following week at school, you and Felix were surprised by Hyunjin's demeanour. He didn't exhibit the expected excitement that typically followed a successful first date. Instead, he seemed to have reverted to his previous self, the Hyunjin you knew before the Lia obsession took centre stage.

Your surprise was evident when, out of the blue, Hyunjin began walking you to class again. His laughter rang out as he snickered at the puzzled expression on your face, and without warning, he playfully ruffled your hair, "Stop looking at me like that." He teased.

In response, you whined and swatted his hand away, "Not the hair, you jerk!"

His laughter continued, a sound you've missed, and he couldn't hide his happiness at seeing this side of you again. Deep down, he knew he pushed you away with his previous behaviour. Slipping an arm around your shoulder, he spoke, "Look, I'm sorry for the way I behaved previously. I know you must've been hurt. I promise to make it up to you."

Before you could inquire about the details of his date with Lia and the sudden change in his attitude, you arrived at your class. He squeezed your shoulder reassuringly before leaving, "See you at lunch."

You nodded, still slightly confused but undeniably happy. Maybe the date didn't go as well as he'd hoped? The possibility filled you with hope, and you couldn't shake the optimism that bubbled within. You found yourself looking forward to lunchtime, eager to uncover the mysteries behind his change of heart.

The lunchtime rendezvous brought an air of anticipation as the three of you gathered at your usual spot. Despite Hyunjin's seemingly improved attitude, a sense of unease lingered in the air.

As you exchanged casual banter, he finally broached the subject, "Guys, there's something I want to talk to you about." His tone carried a weight that immediately caught your attention.

"I've been thinking," Hyunjin continued, his gaze shifting between you and Felix, "About Lia. I want to take a different approach with her. I've decided to be myself, the real me, around her. I want her to like me for who I truly am."

Your heart sank at his words, a sinking feeling of déjà vu washing over you. The hope that had briefly ignited was swiftly extinguished. It became clear that Hyunjin's newfound determination was geared toward pursuing a more genuine connection with Lia. While on the surface, it seemed like a positive step, the implications were disheartening.

Felix, however, expressed his support, "That's a great decision, Jinnie. Be yourself, and if she likes you for who you are, that's even better."

While Felix's words were encouraging, his eyes betrayed a different sentiment. They shifted to you, a subtle expression of concern. He understood the implications of Hyunjin's decision, knowing how you probably felt at that moment.

Another week passed, and Hyunjin, beaming with pride, announced to you and Felix that he was going on a second date with Lia. While you feigned happiness for him, Felix saw through the facade. The strain of suppressing your true feelings became apparent, and Felix, unable to watch you suffer in silence, decided it was time to intervene.

On the night of Hyunjin's second date, Felix took it upon himself to keep you company and distract you from your thoughts. Together, you baked brownies and indulged in a fun movie night. As the credits rolled on the screen and the room dimmed, he turned to see you staring numbly ahead, clearly lost in your own thoughts.

Sighing, he reached across and placed his hands over yours, "Talk to me, please. I want to be there for you. Why do you keep doing this to yourself? What are you trying so hard to prove, hm?"

The concerned look in your best friend's eyes finally broke through the walls you'd built around your emotions. With a heavy exhale, you crumbled, unable to hold back the feelings that had been festering within.

"It's just... I don't understand why I'm doing this to myself," You admitted, "I keep pretending to be okay, to be happy for him, but every time he talks about Lia, it just hurts. I don't know why I'm trying so hard to prove something. Maybe I'm just scared of losing him, of things changing between us."

Felix listened attentively, his grip on your hands offering both support and reassurance, "You don't have to go through this alone, you know?" He said softly, "It's okay to feel the way you do, and it's okay to talk about it."

With those words, the floodgates opened, and you poured out the conflicting emotions that had been plaguing you, "You were right... I guess I do have feelings for him."

Felix listened with a soft, understanding smile, his eyes reflecting a sense of calm assurance. He wasn't at all surprised by the revelation, having sensed the undercurrents of your emotions for some time.

"I don't even know when it started or why I feel this way," You confessed, your voice tinged with a mixture of confusion and vulnerability, "Hyunjin has been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and suddenly everything feels so complicated."

Felix squeezed your hand, "It's okay, you know. Feelings can be messy, and they don't always follow a logical timeline. What matters is that you're opening up about it now. You don't have to do this alone, and I'm here for you, no matter what."

He smiled softly, a reassuring warmth in his gaze. Felix didn't have all the answers, and he knew that unravelling the complexities of emotions wasn't a straightforward task. But he was determined to be the support you needed, offering a listening ear, a shoulder to lean on, and a friend who understood.

Meanwhile, on his date with Lia, Hyunjin couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off.

Lia was a nice girl, but as the evening went on, he began to realise that she might not be exactly his type at all. It wasn't something he consciously thought about before, but as he spent time with her, he couldn't help comparing her to you again.

You, with your unladylike antics that he always teased you about but secretly cherished. Lia, in contrast, seemed different, and the more he pondered on it, the more he realised that different wasn't necessarily what he was looking for. He missed the easy banter and shared interests he had with you and Felix.

During their conversation, he noticed how Lia appeared bored or uninterested whenever he brought up stories about you and Felix. It struck him that, unlike your friendship, their discussions seemed one-sided, revolving mostly around Lia and her interests.

As she excused herself to the bathroom, he took the opportunity to check his phone.

Scrolling through Instagram, he stumbled upon Felix's story. The images and captions painted a vivid picture of a cosy evening filled with laughter—something he found himself envious of. At that moment, he realised that he wanted to be there with you.

As Lia returned from the bathroom, he felt that something was missing, and for the first time, he questioned whether pursuing a relationship with her was the right path for him.

Determined to move on from your feelings for Hyunjin, you decided to refocus on the things that once brought you joy – your love for gaming. Despite Hyunjin's announcement of giving up on Lia, a part of you understood that he was and would always be nothing more than your best friend.

Regardless of how things worked out with Lia, your feelings for Hyunjin would remain unrequited.

Returning to the library's gaming section, you immersed yourself in the digital worlds that always provided comfort. It was there that you met Seungmin, a fellow gamer who shared your passion for virtual adventures. The two of you quickly bonded over your favourite games, strategies, and the thrill of defeating virtual foes together.

Felix noticed the positive change in your demeanour and was relieved to see you returning to your usual self again. The laughter and excitement you shared with Seungmin during gaming sessions became a refreshing break from the emotional complexities that had weighed on you.

However, Hyunjin struggled to come to terms with the shift. Every mention of Seungmin stirred an unsettling feeling within him. He found it hard to reconcile the fact that you were forming a connection with someone else, and it left him grappling with emotions he hadn't anticipated.

Despite the internal turmoil, he understood that your happiness was most important. He tried to be supportive, but the subtle twinge of discomfort lingered whenever Seungmin's name came up.

After school, you excitedly ran up to Hyunjin and Felix, who were waiting for you by the school gates, "Hey, losers, sorry I can't walk home with you guys today. Go on without me; I'll see y'all tomorrow!"

Before you could dash off, Hyunjin's brows furrowed, and he reached for your wrist. Twisting you around, the moment felt like déjà vu from the day you helped him with his outfit. Both your eyes widened at the sudden proximity, and Felix cleared his throat awkwardly, looking away.

Hyunjin blinked rapidly before sputtering, "Wh-where do you think you're going, young lady? Your parents will be worried if you don't go home now."

You pulled away from him, rolling your eyes to feign nonchalance, "Jinnie, please. Do you think I'm you? My parents already know I'll be out after school today," Felix chortled to help lighten the atmosphere, "Hate to admit it, but she's right, bro."

Hyunjin scoffed, "Well, I'm just worried. You know how clumsy you can get," Before you could respond, Seungmin called your name from behind, and you beamed, "Don't worry, Seungmin will take care of me." He didn't like the sound of that one bit.

Just as he tried to stop you from going to Seungmin, Felix grabbed his arm and shook his head.

"Let her go."

Hyunjin didn't understand why it felt like those three words held a deeper meaning. He watched as you joined Seungmin, the two of you walking away, laughter floating back towards them. Felix turned to Hyunjin, his expression unreadable.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Hyunjin couldn't shake the unease that settled within him as he continued to watch your retreating figures. It was a feeling he couldn't quite define, and for the first time, he wondered if his worry for you went beyond the bounds of friendship.

As the two boys walked home, Hyunjin couldn't shake the lingering discomfort. The unease prompted him to turn to Felix, needing some clarity on the matter.

"Hey, what do you think about Seungmin?" Hyunjin asked, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Felix smiled knowingly, understanding the source of the inquiry, "Seungmin? He's a good guy. He's not just a gamer; he's dedicated to his studies too. I've noticed he's had a positive influence on our bestie, encouraging her to study harder as well."

Hyunjin nodded, absorbing Felix's words. He tried to accept his friend's reasoning and rationalise the situation for himself. Why was he feeling so unhappy about this anyway? Felix seemed just fine with your new friendship and even supportive of it.

Perhaps he should learn to be the same.

"Yeah, you're right," Hyunjin replied, forcing a smile, "I guess it's good that she's found someone who gets her interest."

Felix clapped him on the back, "Exactly! Seungmin seems like a genuine guy. Let's just be happy for her."

Hyunjin nodded again, attempting to bury the unease and be supportive like Felix. But deep down, a part of him couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing something, something intangible yet significant, and the journey to fully understand those emotions had just begun.

Meanwhile, you made a conscious effort to push aside the thoughts and emotions stirred up by the encounter with Hyunjin.

As you walked alongside Seungmin, chatting about the latest game releases, you couldn't escape the replay of the moment when Hyunjin grabbed your wrist. Your heart still raced as you wondered about the desperation in his eyes.

Could he be... jealous?

Did he feel the same way about you, or was it just a reaction to your attention being diverted from him and Felix? Rationalising, you convinced yourself that it was probably the latter. After all, Hwang Hyunjin, the charismatic and charming friend, couldn't possibly reciprocate your feelings. It was safer to assume that he wasn't used to your attention being on someone other than him and Felix.

You couldn't shake off the feeling that you needed to save yourself from further misery. The idea of Hyunjin shifting his focus to another girl loomed in your mind. Sure, the Lia phase was over, but he could very well set his eyes on someone new at any time.

Perhaps it was time to guard your heart, to protect yourself from potential heartache. Resolute in your decision, you pushed aside the uncertainty and focused on Seungmin, someone who seemed genuinely interested in you for who you were.

Despite your best efforts, you found your mind involuntarily comparing Seungmin to Hyunjin, and you mentally scolded yourself for these incessant thoughts.

Urging yourself to stop these comparisons, you recognised that if your feelings for Hyunjin weren't clouding your judgment, you might have fallen for Seungmin instantly. He was everything you could want in a guy – your dream guy, to be precise.

Seungmin shared the same interests, hobbies, and principles as you did. He was attentive, considerate, and almost perfect for you. Although he might not have been conventionally the ideal type for most, he fits your ideal perfectly. So close to perfection, if only he was... Hwang Hyunjin.

You snapped out of your thoughts when Seungmin called your name, informing you that he would be back in a bit as he went to collect your food order. You softened at his gentlemanly gesture, realising that you were being unfair to him by comparing him to Hyunjin. Seungmin was his own person, and you were determined to appreciate and like him for who he truly was.

The realisation hit you hard, and you resolved to give Seungmin the attention and consideration he deserved. After all, he had done nothing but show kindness and genuine interest in you.

Seungmin walked you home that evening after a day filled with fun and laughter. Arriving at your doorstep, you turned to him in gratitude, "Thank you so much for walking me home. Gosh, you really didn't have to. It'll be late by the time you get home."

He grinned, teasing, "Aww, are you worrying about me?"

You scoffed, "What if I am? It can be dangerous to be out late alone."

Unable to resist, he wrapped you in a hug. You stilled for a moment before lifting your hands to hold onto him, "You have no idea how happy I am that you care this much about me." He admitted, and you couldn't suppress your smile at his words.

"Of course, I care about you, Kim Seungmin. What kind of friend would I be not to?" You replied as he pulled away, a genuine warmth in your words.

He seemed to contemplate something before gathering the courage to ask, "H-hey, I was wondering... are you free this Saturday?"

Just as you were about to answer, a new voice interrupted you both, "No, she's not. She has plans with me, sorry." said Hyunjin, standing nearby and staring coldly at Seungmin. The unexpected interruption caught you off guard.

You glared at Hyunjin, annoyed by his sudden intrusion, "What? No, I don't." You retorted, not appreciating his assumption.

Hyunjin seemed hurt by your swift rejection, but trying to save his pride, he added, "Yes, you do. Felix got us tickets to see the latest Marvel superhero movie."

Furrowing your brows, you couldn't recall Felix mentioning any of these plans, "He did?" You questioned, feeling a bit perplexed.

Seungmin, aware that Hyunjin was your close friend, decided to be the bigger person, "That's alright, perhaps another time. I have to get home anyway. I'll see you at school." He said diplomatically, not wanting to leave a bad impression.

You nodded quickly, feeling bad about Hyunjin's borderline rude behaviour, "Text me when you get home, yeah?"

"I will." He beamed and patted your head affectionately before walking away. Hyunjin fumed from his corner, observing you watching Seungmin leave until he was out of sight. The tension lingered, leaving you with a mix of frustration and confusion as you turned your attention back to Hyunjin.

"Dude, what the hell was that?!"

Hyunjin rolled his eyes in annoyance, "What? Are you so upset that you don't get to go out with your little boyfriend again?" He retorted with a dismissive tone.

You narrowed your eyes at his sudden attitude, "Seungmin's not my—" You paused and took a deep breath, not wanting to entertain his childish behaviour, "What are you even doing here in the first place, Hyunjin? Did Felix really get us movie tickets this weekend?"

He gulped and looked away, unable to meet your eyes. That answered your question; he lied about the tickets. You sighed, growing tired of the drama, "I don't have time for this. If you won't talk, then I'm leaving."

Turning to enter your house, he quickly grabbed your wrist.

No, not again.

You distanced yourself before he could pull you close to him, determined to protect your heart.

But he couldn't hold back any longer. Frowning at the distance you deliberately put between you two, he exploded, "I've had it, alright? What's gotten into you all of a sudden? Seungmin this, Seungmin that! I'm sick of hearing about him! Do you even care about me and Felix anymore?"

You laughed humourlessly at those words, tears welling up in your eyes, "So, now you know how it feels, huh?"

He froze at that, realising the hypocrisy of his actions.

Wiping your tears harshly with your sleeves, you continued, "How selfish can you be, Hwang Hyunjin? I kept quiet and supported you while you obsessed over Lia, even when you pushed me aside. And now that I've found someone I like, you can't accept it?"

He gulped and lowered his head in shame.

"So it's alright if you do it, but when I do it, it's outrageous and unacceptable, huh? I see how it is."

Not wanting to hear another word from him, you stalked into your home and slammed the door shut, leaving him outside, confronted by the consequences of his actions.

The following day at school, you refused to speak to Hyunjin. When he attempted to chase after you and confront you, Felix stopped him with a serious expression that revealed he knew more than he let on. Stepping aside, the two of them finally decided to address the elephant in the room.

Felix began with a sigh, "She told me what happened last night."

Hyunjin avoided his friend's eye contact, feeling a deep sense of shame. This was a repeat of what happened with you before, but now it was Hyunjin's turn to feel the weight of his actions. Felix deduced that Hyunjin must have returned your feelings, seeing his reaction to Seungmin's appearance in your life.

"You know, it hurt her more than anyone for you to say those things to her," Felix explained, his tone serious, "It's extremely unfair to her. How you felt seeing her with Seungmin, was what she went through when you had Lia. But she kept it all in and suffered alone. She didn't even confide in me. I had to beg her to lean on me, seeing how much it affected her."

Hyunjin felt an overwhelming wave of guilt with this revelation. He had guessed that you'd be hurt, but he didn't fully understand the extent of it until he experienced it himself. He neglected you even more than he realised.

Goddamnit, I'm a horrible friend.

Felix, tired of all the charades, wanted his best friend to wake up to his own feelings. Firmly, he began, "Hyunjin, I want you to think carefully about this."

Hyunjin looked up at Felix's determined gaze, anticipating what he was about to say.

"Do you think that perhaps the reason you're this upset is because you have feelings for her?" Felix asked pointedly.

Hyunjin froze. The thought constantly lingered in the back of his mind, but he always refused to acknowledge it, let alone voice it out loud. It felt like it wasn't supposed to happen. After all, he had known you since you were all in diapers; you'd grown up side by side. How could it be possible that all of a sudden, he would be seeing you in a different light?

With Felix asking this question, Hyunjin knew the feelings must have been there for his friend to see through in the first place.

That would explain why he had been so unhappy to see you with Seungmin, especially when Felix seemed less than bothered by it. The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks, and he felt a mixture of confusion, denial, and a hint of something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Felix placed a hand on Hyunjin's shoulder, "I know it sounds crazy, but deep down, I trust you know the answer better than anyone else. Just... take your time and figure it out before deciding how you want to approach her. Whatever happens, I'm here for you, alright buddy?"

Hyunjin nodded gratefully, "Thank you, Felix." The weight of the realisation hung heavy in the air, and he couldn't deny that he needed to confront his feelings, as confusing and unexpected as they were.

As Felix walked away, Hyunjin took a deep breath, grappling with the newfound awareness that his emotions for you might be more complicated than he ever imagined.

During lunch, you decided to be the bigger person and chose not to ignore Hyunjin any longer. Instead, you opted to act like nothing had happened. You didn't want any confrontation and wished only to move on from the drama. Thankfully, Hyunjin didn't pester you, especially with Felix sending him warning looks.

As you sat down, you engaged in casual conversation with both of them, discussing topics that steered clear of any emotional tension.

Hyunjin found relief in the momentary peace.

He realised that this was for the best, a chance for him to figure out his own feelings for you without the weight of recent events clouding his judgment. The lunch table, which had once been a source of joy and comfort, now felt like a battleground of unspoken emotions. He couldn't shake off the guilt, but he was determined to navigate through the complexities of his feelings.

Little did he know, you were also fighting with your emotions, doing your best to maintain a facade of normalcy for the sake of the friendship you cherished.

That weekend, Felix decided to make a genuine effort to lighten the atmosphere within your friend group. He went and bought movie tickets for real this time, hoping that this outing could serve as a reset button for all of you, despite the underlying emotional tension between you and Hyunjin.

As you approached the two of them, your usual cheerful self, Hyunjin fought to keep his heart still. You weren't necessarily dressed up for the occasion, but in his heightened awareness of his feelings for you, he couldn't deny that you looked beautiful to him no matter what you wore. He tried to pull himself together as you threw your arms over both their necks in a group hug.

He instinctively reached his hand over your back, holding you against him. At that moment, he closed his eyes, savouring the feeling of having you close. The warmth of your embrace and the subtle scent of your familiar perfume made it difficult for him to ignore the growing realisation that his feelings for you were deeper than he had ever acknowledged.

The movie outing, intended to bring back the carefree dynamic of your friendship, unknowingly became a pivotal moment in Hyunjin's self-discovery.

Felix observed you two knowingly, shaking his head at how oblivious you were to each other's feelings. While you attempted to maintain a distance, Hyunjin made every effort to close the gap, taking a step closer every chance he got. Despite your attempts to push him away, Felix could tell that it was becoming increasingly difficult for you to deny your own heart's desires.

Throughout the entire day, Hyunjin took care of you in every possible way. He offered to buy you whatever you wanted, handed you his jacket when the cinema hall got too cold, and even accompanied you to the washroom during the long movie.

You stared at him incredulously when he followed after you, whispering, "Jinnie, what are you doing? I'm fine going alone; I know where the washroom is."

He shushed you and gently pushed you out of the hall, saying, "I won't forgive myself if anything happens to you. Just let me do this."

Despite the flutter in your heart, you rolled your eyes and relented, "Ugh, fine. Don't blame me when you miss what happens in the movie later."

One of the cleaner ladies witnessing your banter chuckled, "Young lady, you have a wonderful boyfriend. You should let him take care of you if he wants to, not all men are like that nowadays."

Choking on your spit, you waved your hands at her, "N-no! You've got it all wrong, he's not my—"

Squishing your cheeks to disrupt your attempt to clarify, Hyunjin smiled politely at her before grinning mischievously down at you, "Listen to the kind lady, my love. She's right."

Once the lady was out of sight, you slapped his hand away with a glare, "You do that again, Hwang Hyunjin, and I'll kick you where the sun doesn't shine."

He burst out laughing at the threat, and you struggled to suppress the smile forming on your face as you entered the washroom.

The outing continued, and Felix marvelled at how Hyunjin's actions were a silent testament to his growing feelings for you. It was as if he had unconsciously shifted into a more protective and caring mode. Felix exchanged glances with Hyunjin when you weren't looking, silently urging him to confront his emotions.

Hyunjin's attempts to get closer to you were evident. He lingered beside you during breaks, shared his snacks, and even stole a glance or two when he thought you weren't looking. Felix hoped that this could be the turning point for both of you.

By the end of the day, as you bid farewell, Hyunjin's eyes held a certain warmth that hadn't been there before. Felix smiled knowingly, hopeful that the walls both of you had built around your hearts might finally start to crumble.

The two boys walked you home that evening. Upon arriving at your doorstep, you turned to bid them goodbye, "Thanks, Lix, for the movie, and thanks, Jinnie, for the snacks. I had a good time with you losers." You said with a playful smile.

Felix laughed, giving you a warm hug, "You're welcome, idiot."

Hyunjin, not one to be outdone, waited for his turn. As his arms enveloped you, your face pressed against his shoulder, you hoped he couldn't hear the frantic beating of your heart. Little did you know, his own heart was racing just as fast. Squeezing you in his arms, he pressed a subtle kiss onto your head and whispered, "Anytime, cutie."

You blinked rapidly, feeling a sudden warmth spread through you. Felix cleared his throat, and Hyunjin reluctantly let you go. You smiled and waved at the two of them, "Alrighty then, I'll see you both at school."

Waving back, they turned to leave. Unbeknownst to Hyunjin, Felix caught him muttering a quiet, "Can't wait."

A week had passed and Hyunjin was just glad you no longer brought up Seungmin again, perhaps you've drifted apart from the boy? Whatever it was, he was just happy to not hear that name again.

Ah yes, things are finally returning to normal.

Or so he thought.

The cafeteria bustled with students, the usual hum of conversation filling the air as the three of you settled into your regular lunch spot. Hyunjin's eyes sparkled with excitement as he leaned forward, suggesting an idea for the upcoming weekend.

"Hey, let's do something fun this Saturday! I heard there's this new arcade opened—"

Before he could finish, your sheepish smile and the gentle rub on your neck halted him, "Sorry, I won't be able to make it. You guys can go ahead without me though."

Hyunjin furrowed his brows, "What? Why not?"

You sighed, conflicted about sharing the information but recognising the necessity, "I'm... going on my first date with Seungmin."

His cheerful expression faltered, his eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and disappointment, "Seungmin? You're still seeing him?"

You nodded hesitantly, your gaze shifting away, "Yeah, we've been hanging out quite a bit lately, and he finally asked me out. I didn't want to bring it up, but since you asked..."

The atmosphere grew tense, and Felix, who was listening to the conversation, threw a concerned look at his friend. Hyunjin tried to put on a brave face, forcing a smile, "Oh, that's... that's great. I hope you have fun."

Felix intervened, sensing the underlying tension, "Well, we can reschedule our plans. No big deal."

You offered an apologetic smile, "Thanks, Lix. I really appreciate it."

Hyunjin forced a smile, trying to mask the discomfort he felt, "Yeah, go have a good time."

His gaze lingered longingly on your retreating figure as you left lunch early that day. The once-clear path of friendship now seemed muddled, and the excitement for the weekend plans felt overshadowed by heartache.

The streetlights cast elongated shadows on the sidewalk as Hyunjin walked home, his steps heavy with self-pity. His gaze was fixed on his phone screen, flipping through your Instagram stories with Seungmin. Felix, catching up to his despondent friend, slung an arm over Hyunjin's shoulder.

"Dude, why didn't you wait for me?" Felix asked, noticing Hyunjin's distraction.

Hyunjin didn't respond, lost in his thoughts. Felix glanced over and sighed when he saw your stories playing on Hyunjin's phone. Swiftly, he snatched the device out of his friend's hands.

"That's enough. Will you keep wasting away while the girl you like is out there with another guy? Aren't you going to do something about your feelings?" Felix's words were firm, a mix of concern and frustration.

Hyunjin, taking his phone back, continued trudging home, "What can I do, Lix? All she sees is Seungmin. It doesn't matter how I feel."

Without warning, Felix smacked him on the back of the head. Hyunjin froze, rubbing the back of his head as Felix continued walking.

"Is that what you think? So you're upset with her seeing Seungmin because you have feelings for her. You do realise she felt the same way seeing you with Lia, right? So, what does that tell you?" With those words hanging in the air, Felix left Hyunjin standing there, the pieces slowly falling into place in his mind.

Wait, does that mean she feels the same?

The soft chime of incoming messages interrupted your preparations for the date with Seungmin. You checked your phone to find a series of texts from Hyunjin, desperation evident in his words. He insisted that he needed to meet you urgently, that there was something important he needed to discuss.

Sighing, you considered ignoring him, determined to focus on your evening with Seungmin. But the messages continued to flood in, Hyunjin's pleas echoing through your phone. You were tired of the emotional rollercoaster, the constant back and forth.

Just as you were about to throw your phone aside, a few more texts flashed across the screen. Hyunjin persisted, wanting to talk to you, to meet with you, 'Please don't go to him.' Frustration welled up in you, but you maintained your resolve.

With a firmness that surprised even yourself, you replied, 'Enough, Hyunjin. I'm going on this date with Seungmin whether or not you like it. You're not stopping me this time.'

As you hit send, a text from Seungmin arrived, informing you that he had arrived.

Fixing your hair one last time, you took a deep breath and made a conscious decision to put thoughts of Hyunjin aside for the night. Tonight was about you and Seungmin, and you were determined to enjoy the evening without the interference of unresolved feelings.

Except it was harder than you think.

The cityscape sparkled with lights as you walked beside Seungmin. Despite the vibrant atmosphere and your date's engaging company, every corner of the city seemed to whisper memories of Hyunjin. You couldn't escape the nostalgia that flooded your mind, remembering the countless times you and your childhood friend had roamed these familiar streets together throughout the years.

It became a bitter realisation that, no matter how much you tried to focus on Seungmin, your mind wandered back to your best friend. The restaurants you passed, the park you strolled through, every place held echoes of shared moments with Hyunjin.

To make matters worse, your phone vibrated incessantly with continuous messages from him. Despite your decision to ignore him, his texts continued to flood in, each one a reminder of his persistence. It tugged at your heartstrings, making it harder to immerse yourself in the date.

As the night progressed, you found yourself in a constant battle between the present and the past, between Seungmin and Hyunjin.

Just why are you doing this to me?

Letting out a tired sigh, you pushed your phone back into your pocket after seeing yet another text from you-know-who. You managed a convincing smile for your date, trying to push away the distraction of Hyunjin's persistent texts. But Seungmin's concern was evident as he placed a reassuring hand on your arm.

"Hey, everything alright?" He asked, his eyes reflecting genuine care. Your heart twinged with guilt for letting your emotions surface so easily. Nodding your head, you quickly regained your composure.

"Yep, all good. Ooh, let's go see that over there!" You pointed towards an intriguing stall, its shelves filled with peculiar items. You hoped the novelty would distract Seungmin—and, in turn, yourself—from the underlying tension of the night.

As you both explored the colourful array of trinkets and curiosities, you did your best to be present, banishing the persistent thoughts of a certain someone. Little did you know, Seungmin observed your efforts with concern, hoping to make the evening memorable for you.

Fingers intertwined with yours, he gently tugged you away from the crowd to a quieter corner by the beautiful Hangang River. The distant city lights reflected on the water's surface, casting a serene glow on both of you.

There, you stumbled upon a talented busker passionately pouring their heart into a soulful melody. Seungmin's eyes sparkled with delight as he guided you to a spot where you could enjoy the performance undisturbed.

In that moment, surrounded by the soothing music and the gentle night breeze, you smiled shyly. His presence felt warm and comforting, and for an instant, all you could see was him. He truly was a great guy, someone who could be the perfect boyfriend.

You could see it, see yourself being happy with him.

Until you couldn't.

The busker's next song struck a chord deep within you, a familiar melody that wrapped around your heart like a haunting echo from the past. It was your song, the one you and Hyunjin had dedicated to each other; it signified how much you meant to one another.

As the singer's voice carried the tune, memories of late-night talks, stolen glances, and the warmth of Hyunjin's presence flooded your mind. It was a bittersweet reminder of a connection that ran far deeper than you'd allowed yourself to acknowledge.

You knew you were hopeless when a voice you knew too well from behind you called out your name.

Hwang Hyunjin stood there, his eyes fixed on you with a mixture of emotions that mirrored your own inner turmoil. The shattered fragments of the future you envisioned with Seungmin lay scattered like a broken mirror, and there was no escaping the truth that had resurfaced with the haunting melody.

Turning to face him, you knew you were a lost cause the moment you laid your eyes on him. You had no control over how your heart instantly reacted to merely seeing him.

Seungmin's smile faltered, his grip on your hand loosening. The sudden shift didn't escape your notice, and when you looked up at him with tearful eyes, you found a bittersweet understanding in his gaze. His hand gently patted your head, a comforting gesture that carried an unspoken message.

"It's okay. Follow your heart, go to him," He said, his voice soft and understanding. His reassuring smile attempted to dispel any guilt you might feel, "Don't apologise, please. From the beginning, it was clear that your heart belonged to someone else. I knew that, and I just wanted to try my luck winning it over. But it's alright; I can tell this whole time, it's still with him."

His words lingered in the air, carrying both acceptance and a touch of melancholy. Hyunjin, who had been silently observing, began to view your date in a different light. Felix's insight had been right; Seungmin was a great guy.

Giving your hand a final, supportive squeeze, Seungmin nodded encouragingly at Hyunjin before walking off into the night.

The atmosphere around you seemed to shift, the distant sounds of the city melting away as Seungmin left you alone with Hyunjin and the weight of his words hanging in the air.

"Great, he's gone now. Are you happy?! What is it that's so freaking urgent that you had to ruin my date—"

Before you could process the mix of emotions, Hyunjin closed the distance between you. Your anger bubbled up at his apparent interruption, but he cut through your words with a revelation that shook you to your core.

"I'm in love with you, okay?!"

The confession hung in the air, and for a moment, the world stopped. You looked at him, your heart pounding, thoughts racing.

The truth that lingered beneath the surface had finally surfaced, leaving you both vulnerable and exposed. As the weight of his words settled in, you found yourself at a loss for how to respond.

Time seemed to come to a standstill.

You stood there, eyes wide, trembling, as the weight of his words sank in, "Wh-what?" You croaked, almost disbelieving. You feared your mind might be playing tricks on you.

Hyunjin softened, reaching gently for your hands, "I said, I'm in love with you. Always have been. It's... it's always been you. I should've known when I couldn't stop thinking about you even when I was with Lia. I'm sorry it took me this long to realise."

Your eyes rounded at the sincerity in his voice as he continued, "And I know that you feel exactly the same way I do."

You scoffed lightly at his confidence, "And how would you know that?"

He smiled, his gaze unwavering, "Tell me I'm wrong then. Tell me I've never once crossed your mind while you were with Seungmin."

You huffed in defeat, and he brought a hand up to cup your face, making you meet his gaze, "It has been painful watching you be with him, but I deserved it after making you watch and help me chase after Lia. I'm an idiot. I don't know how I've been so blind to my own feelings all this while."

You chuckled, placing your hand over his affectionately, "Believe it or not, I'm not much better. I didn't realise I loved you until Lia came around too."

His heart skipped a beat at your words, and he rested his forehead against yours, "Say that again."

You frowned, "Say what? That I'm no better than you?"

He laughed, "Not that. What you said after that."

You blinked slowly, "That I... love you?"

He nodded, biting his lip, "Again."

You blushed, murmuring, "I love you, you idiot."

His heart soared at that, "I love you too." Before you knew it, you were both leaning in, and your breath was taken away when you finally felt his lips pressed against yours. The world seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of you and the shared realisation of a love that had been there all along.

Hyunjin took you home, and the journey was a blur of stolen kisses, laughter, and the promise of a future that was now crystal clear. He kissed you dizzy at your doorstep, a sweet and lingering moment that left you breathless.

As you unlocked your front door, still feeling the warmth of his touch on your lips, you couldn't shake the need to address things with Seungmin. Despite the confusion of your emotions, you felt responsible for any unintentional hurt you might have caused.

Pulling out your phone, you composed a long text to Seungmin, expressing your sincerest apologies for leading him on, even when that wasn't your intention.

His reply came not long after, and you felt relief as you read his understanding words. Seungmin reassured you that he cherished the friendship you both had and was genuinely happy for you. You sighed, grateful that he handled it with such grace, and responded with a heartfelt thank you.

The weight on your shoulders lifted, knowing that at least one aspect of the situation was resolved amicably.

As the night settled in, you found yourself sitting by your window, a gentle breeze carrying the promise of a fresh start. Texts from Hyunjin lit up your screen, each message carrying a piece of the happiness that now coloured your world.

You smiled, realising that sometimes, the best things in life were the ones that took time to unfold.

The following week, you and Hyunjin walked into school hand in hand, a couple at last. The shift in your relationship wasn't much of a surprise to anyone. It has always been clear to most people that there was something slightly more between you; Hyunjin's protective nature and constant presence by your side made it obvious, that the love he had for you was different from Felix's platonic one.

The subtle hints that hung between you two over the years were now out in the open, and the school could finally witness the natural progression from best friends to something more.

Felix, stationed by his locker with an amused smirk, "Finally! I was this close to losing my patience waiting for you fools to realise you belonged together." His words carried a teasing tone, but there was genuine happiness in his eyes as he looked at the two of you.

Hyunjin chuckled, "Thanks, Lix. I won't lie, we probably wouldn't have been together yet if it weren't for you."

You nodded in agreement, "For real, you're the best," Grateful for the support and nudges from Felix, you jumped into his open arms, embracing him with genuine warmth. He grinned teasingly at your boyfriend as he hugged you back tightly, "I sure am."

Hyunjin, feigning jealousy, cleared his throat, "Alright, alright, that's enough! Hands off my girlfriend." He pulled you back into his arms, giving you a playful glare. You giggled, basking in the joy of finally being able to show your affection openly. The three of you shared a moment, knowing that this new chapter in your lives had been a long time coming.

The laughter-filled atmosphere at the lunch table spoke volumes about the comfort and happiness that had settled into your lives. With your boyfriend sitting by your side and your best friend across from you, the three of you enjoyed the moment.

Felix, ever the playful instigator, decided to bring up a memory, "Hey, remember when you said you had no interest in dating? Funny how things turned out, now look at you."

You scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes at his persistent teasing. Just as you were about to feed Hyunjin some of your kimchi fried rice, you paused midway, giving Felix a mock glare, "How many times have we been over this? Give it a rest, will you?"

Hyunjin whined at the interruption, and you turned to feed him with a coo, making him smile. Felix burst into laughter, thoroughly entertained, "Nope, I'll never let you live this down."

Your boyfriend swallowed the food in his mouth before throwing a tangerine at Felix, "Leave her alone and pick on someone your own size, Lee Yongbok."

Felix shook his head amusingly, catching the fruit in his hand, "Okay, okay, sheesh."

Amid the laughter and light banter, Felix suddenly shifted the mood, his expression turning serious, "Hey, on a serious note, you two. I just want you to know how genuinely happy I am for both of you. I wish you nothing but the best, and I hope you'll be together for a really long time. You both mean the world to me and your happiness is what matters most."

Hyunjin wrapped an arm around you and nodded, "I promise, Lix, I'll take care of her for as long as I'm capable of doing so."

Your eyes grew a bit wet at the sincerity of their words. Just as the moment was turning emotional, Felix, in his typical fashion, couldn't resist adding a touch of humour, "Oh, and by the way, if you have a kid, name them after me. Felix has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

You and Hyunjin stared at him, unamused, for a brief moment before bursting into laughter. Without missing a beat, you both reached over to give him a playful smack, "Dream on, Lix."

Deciding to go on a date after school, the two of you waved your best friend goodbye before skipping off in the opposite direction.

Swinging your intertwined hands, Hyunjin couldn't help but pout at the thought of your gaming plans with Seungmin over the weekend, "Can't you hang out with me instead of gaming with Seungmin, hm?" He asked, a playful whine in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, a teasing smile playing on your lips, "Jinnie, please, you're the one who told me the importance of maintaining our own lives outside of our relationship, right?"

He sputtered for a moment, caught off guard, "W-well, I mean, yeah, I did but—"

You shook your head, cutting off his protest with a gentle finger pressed against his lips, "No 'buts.' I'm playing with Seungmin, and you can't stop me."

Turning to continue walking, he tugged on your wrist and pulled you against him. With a gasp, you placed your hands on his chest to steady yourself, "Really? You'd rather play games with some other guy than do this with your own boyfriend?" He murmured, his tone a mix of playfulness and a hint of something more.

Before you could respond, he leaned in, kissing you with an intensity that caught you by surprise. Your knees buckled, and you would have fallen if it hadn't been for his strong hold on you. Your eyes fluttered closed almost instantly as you melted into the kiss, all thoughts of gaming and Seungmin fading away.

When he pulled away, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips, he gazed at your dazed state, "Tell me, is gaming better than this, hm?" He teased, his voice carrying a playful tone.

Lost in the trance of the moment, you shook your head, feeling his lips brush against yours before he kissed you again. The sensation was electrifying, but if Hyunjin thought he had won you over with that, he was severely mistaken.

Because when the weekend came around, and you were immersed in your gaming session with Seungmin, no amount of kisses from Hyunjin could distract you from the digital world you were exploring. As much as you loved the moments with your boyfriend, your passion for gaming was a part of who you were, and it was a promise you intended to keep.

But you did let him come over while you game.

Hyunjin pouted as he watched you talk excitedly into the mic on your headset, your enthusiasm evident in every word you spoke to Seungmin. Despite his initial playful complaints about being abandoned for games, he couldn't fight the smile that grew on his face.

As you laughed and strategised with Seungmin, Hyunjin appreciated how genuinely happy you were in these moments. He understood that your passion for gaming was a significant part of who you were, and he respected that.

Seated beside you, he immersed himself in his own world of sketches and drawings. The atmosphere was filled with the sound of your laughter and the clicking of his pencil against the paper. He was content, knowing that you were both doing things you loved, even if they were very different. Being by your side was all that mattered to him. And as he glanced at you with a soft smile, he thought, maybe, opposites do attract after all.

He couldn't resist leaning over to plant a kiss on your head as you played. You winked at him in response, making him laugh.

When the long match finally ended in your favour, you jumped up, arms thrown around his neck in triumph, "We won, Jinnie!" You exclaimed, and he cheered alongside you, savouring the victory.

As you celebrated, Hyunjin sneakily wrapped his arms around you and whispered, "Should I reward you for doing such a good job?" A mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes.

You gasped, slapping a hand over his mouth when you heard a loud groan through your headset. Seungmin's voice echoed, and you realised he could still hear you with the mic unmuted, "Ew, I really didn't need to hear that. My day's completely ruined now, thanks."

"Shut up, Seungmin. You've been hogging my girlfriend all day. Can I have her back already?" Hyunjin scolded, and your face turned a shade of red.

Seungmin laughed good-naturedly, "Fine, she's all yours."

Hyunjin grinned in victory as you ended the call with Seungmin, and he wasted no time pulling you back into his arms as soon as you logged out of the game.

"Damn right, she is. All mine."

I'll be honest, this slightly strayed from the initial direction that I was gonna go for, but I'm happy with how it ended.

Thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

#edenesth #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids hyunjin #non idol au #high school au #best friends to lovers #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin #stray kids fic #stray kids oneshot

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lavandulawrites · 27 days ago

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Tears of Themis and why you should play it

Tears of Themis is a mobile otome game from the company HoYoverse/MiHoYo who brought us the games many know and love: Genshin Impact, Honkai Star Rail, Honkai Impact 3rd and Zenless Zone Zero.

Tears of Themis was released in China in 2020. The game has 4 male leads. The game is a romance game with crime solving elements and is set in the fictional city Stellis in the year 2030. You play as a junior attorney MC who has the code name Rosa (her real name is customisable) and with the MLs you work together to solve crimes and mysteries.

Both the story and characters are extremely well written and it’s a breath of fresh air compared to other otome games. The story is fun, romantic and thrilling. There are times where you will kick your feet in excitement, gripping your phone in suspense and other times where you will shed tears. The game explores multiple romantic genres/tropes and its psychological elements are interesting. It’s a game for both experienced otome players and those who are new to the genre. It is free to play and it’s rather easy to obtain the story cards you want.

The MC is kind, empathetic, stubborn and intelligent, in other words quite likeable. She is a true girlboss.

The first male lead/love interest you met is Artem Wing, a 29 year old senior lawyer and MC’s partner. He is a calm man who works hard towards his goals. The media calls him an emotional less robot, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. With his sometimes awkward demeanour when it comes to his crush (MC) is rather charming.

The second male lead/love interest you met is Luke Pearce, a 24 year old private detective and the owner of an antique shop. He is what one could call a golden retriever with his playful personality and his overprotectiveness over the MC who is his childhood best friend. His enthusiasm is a very likeable trait and it’s easy to get attached to him.

The third male lead/love interest you met is Vyn Richter, the 27 year old famed psychiatrist with two doctor grades and a mysterious past. His intelligence is remarkable and he is a master with his words. Vyn is man of many talents and he is always looking for a way to impress MC. He is rather cunning and has an enigmatic aura which draws you in.

The fourth and last male lead/love interest you met is Marius Von Hagen, the 21 year old heir of a multibillion company and an art student. He is what you may call a playboy with his teasing personality and his charming appearance. He is as all the other love interests extremely intelligent. He loves teasing the MC and it’s hard to say no to his puppy eyes.

The game play

The game consists of a main story with multiple chapters and side stories with the different characters. There are also events.

In order to unlock the different episodes you battle with cards which you can obtain by “pulling”. The SR and SSR cards each have their own stories. The card battles are easy to get the hang of.

So do like our girl Pela and play Tears of Themis<3

#without no doubt the best newer otome mobile game #tot #otome #otome games #tears of themis #hoyoverse #visual novel #vyn richter #luke pearce #artem wing #marius von hagen #genshin #genshin impact #hsr #honkai star rail #honkai 3rd #zenless zone zero #game recommendations #game reccs

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goldenempyrean · 1 year ago

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For a small Drabble! Natasha x sick delirious reader. Nat keeps trying to put them back to bed. 🩷

Secret Agents of the Sea

〚 Notes - I thought this was super cute so enjoy some Natasha fluff. 〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - You're delirious with fever, Nat's just trying to keep you in bed. 〛

〚 Wordcount - > 500 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

“Y/N you need to stay in bed.” Natasha groaned as she put you back down in bed for the forth time that day, “I cant have you stumbling around like a drunk octopus when you’re like this.”

The idea of an octopus seemed to amuse you in your feverish state as you babbled, “Ju’s so you know oct’puses are s’very misunderstood.”

Nat raised an eyebrow as she chuckled, “Oh really, why is that?” She asked, curious to see where you’d go with this.

You blinked up at Natasha, your glazed eyes struggling to focus on her face. A soft giggle escaped your lips, accompanied by a hint of delirium. "’because," you replied, your voice slightly slurred, "they're masters of disguise and they can wear masks and fight crime.”

To demonstrate you tried to pull yourself out of best and do a ninja pose but that was instantly stopped when Nat gently pulled you back down into the time, this time tucking the covers more tightly around you, “I think you’re talking about the Mutant Ninja Turtles love.”

You pouted, your lower lip jutting out in a childish manner. "No, no, Nat," you protested weakly, "I mean the octopuses. They're like the undercover agents of the seas. Nobody suspects them, but they're out there, solving underwater mysteries and fighting off evil creatures."

Natasha couldn't help but chuckle at your fever-induced ramblings. She sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to gently brush your hair away from your forehead. "You've got quite the imagination, don't you?" she said, a fond smile tugging at her lips.

You nodded, a little too vigorously, causing a wave of dizziness to wash over you. "Mhm, I do. But it's true, Nat. Octopuses are smart, like really smart. They can open jars and solve puzzles. They're like the secret agents of the sea, I'm telling you."

Natasha couldn't argue with your enthusiasm. She admired the way your eyes sparkled, even in your delirious state. "Alright, alright," she conceded playfully, "I won't argue with you. Octopuses are the secret agents of the sea, fighting crime and saving the day. But for now, you need to rest and let yourself be a superhero of getting better and just let me look after you.”

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗@sayah13 @mahalkitanova @romanoffskisser @scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @bloomingflowersthings @kathleenmikaelson @shamelessbearunknown @inluvwithfictionalwomen @citrussnz @fluffyblanketgecko @kljhsong @santana1437 @blackwidow-3 @asiangmrchk13 @lovelyy-moonlight @juiles @lots-of-pockets @sashawalker2 @natashamaximoff69 @observeowl @beholdagaywriter @widows201 @llovergirleraa @danveration @idkeithershawty @poison-blackheart @loveshineslikethesky @somber-sapphic

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff sickfic #natasha romanoff fluff #mcu #marvel #sickfic #natasha romanoff comfort

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eldritch-spouse · 8 months ago

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HI AGAIN. Ever since I found your blog and also sent a totally normal ramble abt cannibalism I've been just. Gently tossing your guys back and forth in my head. You're a wonderful writer and I'm always excited to see you on my dash!!

Gonna throw my hat in as asking an actual question- How would your guys fare if their obsession had a particularly weird or morbid interest? I get the vibes that some of them would most certainly encourage it but I also feel like Vinnel would hit me with a hammer if I panic infodumped about ebola-

[Hellow, glad to see you again! Also, I know you probably just forgot, but "your guys" encompasses way too many characters to talk about at once, so I'll assume you were going for TCE staff.]

Morell especially likes hearing about your cannibalism infodumps. They're actually useful to him, since he's going to be living with you, and he needs to know what he can and can't feed you, as well as a possible child between you. It's actually interesting stuff, he'd like it if you talked about it to his family too, you're a smart piggy. Any other topics are usually met with less enthusiasm (unless kitchen/food related), and he'll ask you to quit it if you start talking too much about mushrooms. Overall, it's nice background noise to work to.

Patches is all about infodumping. In fact, you're subjected to it often too, even if he doesn't always stop to explain basic concepts you'd need to understand his rambling. He'll give you a recorder he has, so he can keep the sound of that boundless enthusiasm in your voice forever. He's much more participative than the others, asking various questions and tossing random scenarios at you that'll prompt you to learn even more. There's a potential he'll get distracted and stop working to just research this with you the whole day.

Gallon loves a weirdo -No offense- Feel free to dump all that morbidity on him, he soaks it up like a sponge (so does Martin, be careful). Although he prefers to let you speak unhindered, only egging you on when it seems you're getting passionately angry about things, there's a chance Gallon may begin his own little tidbit sharing regarding a variety of poisons and toxins. He's selective with what he lets slip, but figures it could interest you.

Santi likes listening to you. Doesn't matter what it's about. There's only one thing he doesn't want you to morbidly talk to him about, anything featuring kids. Other than that, you think a rant about the intricacies of cannibalism's effects will kill his mood? Hah, nice try. He usually doesn't have anything smart to say, but may actually pitch in with some first hand details if you mention something sexual and morbid.

Let's face it, this is going in one of Grimbly's eardrums and out the other. Unless, you can talk like you're in a true crime podcast, then he's all ears. Grimbly typically responds to these interests by bragging to others about how his Mommy's "so smart" and "cultured" and he learns so much with you! You should start a YouTube channel!

Nebul likes to hear what you think is morbid. He'll let you ramble when you've been good enough to earn his attention, or if it allows you to keep obeying him. He has his own morbidities to share with you, as a wraith who has seen the darkest parts of many a mind. Surely, you of all people would be fascinated to know how the brain reacts to very invasive types of trauma only some monsters can inflict...

Vinnel will use this to his advantage during shows. You're placed in dangerous games where the whole goal is for you to explain said morbid concepts to the audience while Vinnel or Jingles try to destabilize you so you'll fall into painful contraptions or get cut/bruised/undressed. Sometimes Vinnel pays attention to your infodumps, other times he openly doesn't, it's a coin toss.

Belo sincerely discourages you from seeking such dark information in your brain. A lesser's mind is like a canvas, and it shouldn't be furnished with such desolate knowledge... If your morbid interests somehow can shine a glimmer of positivity or utility, the angel will be a little more inclined to letting you keep pursuing these topics. Otherwise, Belo actively attempts to distract you.

Sybastian doesn't understand about 80% of what you're about to tell him, but he has all the time in the world to sit and listen to his favorite person spit words. He's not verbally communicative during these episodes, but he may clap depending on how impressive the information is, and he remembers things you say enough to sometimes present you with paraphernalia vaguely related to the topics of your morbid interests.

Fank-e is a good bet because he can add onto your information in real time, or correct small detail you may get them wrong. He's generally happy to give you links to more information sources and try to match your level of knowledge, uncaring of how dark the subject theme may be.

If there's one thing you can infodump to Krulu about, it would be diseases. Plagues and ailments of several types are his specialty, the chances of him imparting bits of knowledge you absolutely should not possess on this matter are high. Another thing you may infodump to him about is corvids. It gets him in very favorable moods, surprisingly.

#Morell oc #Gallon oc #Belo oc #Patches oc #Nebul oc #Sybastian oc #Vinnel oc #Santi oc #Grimbly oc #Fank-e oc #Krulu oc #hi-im-lugh

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theflatpancakes · 1 year ago

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If you couldn't tell from my reblogs I'm suddenly a huge Dreamtheory shipper so yk 😜

Uhhhh here are some headcanons dor Ness and Mike ig

Ness:

•He went to Freddy's all the time as a kid and was really sad once it shut down, although he didn't know why it got closed

•He has a true crime podcast that he does after he gets home from work; each episode is at least an hour-an hour and a half

•One day someone requested him to cover Freddy's and he was just like "???What???? When did something happen at Freddy's?????" And that's when he figured it out

•Every episode after the Freddy's episode he mentioned it at least once, and mist episodes were just covering new stuff he found out about Freddy's and the murders/disappearances

•He has been tempted to break in just to look for evidence so many times, although he never did

•He's a horror movie fanatic

•Also a conspiracy theorist

•He unironically owns the Dream Theory book that Mike has jn the movie. He got it to investigate for an episode of his podcast but eventually just got actually into the ideas the book was talking about

•Coffee. Addict.

•Doesn't care for labels, really. He likes anybody that likes him

•Theater kid; no, not just because MatPat is a theater kid.

Mike:

•Regular at Sparky's, both before and after getting the job at Freddy's

•He sometimes feels Garret pulling at his pants/shirt and is convinced he felt something, but always brushes it off

•Chugs energy drinks like there's no tomorrow

•He never got any sleep, even before he started working the night shift

•^ He also stayed up late when he was a kid/teen despite having to wake up early for school

•After the events of the first movie he quit Freddy's and went and got a job at Sparky's since it was close to his house and nearly guaranteed to not have haunted animatronics with the souls of dead kids in them!

•Always thought he was straight up until he randomly caught feelings for Ness after they started working together and seeing each other all day almost every day

Both/their relationship:

•Mike sometimes shows up in Ness' podcast

•Back on about the 2nd night of Mike's working at Freddy's, he invited Ness to come check some stuff out since he showed some great enthusiasm about Mike working there and him knowing about Ness' podcast and stuff

•Ness confessed first

•^Mike was just letting his feelings sit and shoving them down while he was in denial

•After about a month or two of being together, Mike was like, "Hey broski, so like.... you wanna move in with me and Abby????" And Ness was like "Uhm. Yeah, of course I do" so they moved in and played video games together all the time and Ness because practically a second dad to Abby even though Mike is technically her brother but whatever

•^After that, Mike was in almost every episode of Ness's podcast, and instead of just referring to Mike as his guest/coworker, he actually started referring to Mike as his boyfriend

•^So a little more about what they called each other on the podcast. Ness started calling Mike his boyfriend on there a few episodes before they moved in and the first time he said that he actually said how long they'd been together and when they moved in together he announced that on the episode that they did once Ness actually fully moved at least his recording set up into Mike's house

•So remember how I mentioned Mike was a regular at Sparky's??? So the first couple times he went he got sat in Ness' section and it was a funny coincidence so after that he started asking to be sat in Ness' section because he was funny and nice and just a cool dude to have as your server but Ness didn't know that Mike was requesting to be in his area so he thought it was just a coincidence

#fnaf movie #mike x ness #ness x mike #ness fnaf #ness the waiter #mike schmidt #five nights at freddy's movie #dreamtheory #securitywaiter #dream theory #fnaf #five nights at freddy's

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nevadancitizen · 5 months ago

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-> CH. 2: LIKE A MOUSE IN A HOUSE FULL OF CATS

synopsis: it's your first time deviant hunting with hank and connor. and gavin is an asshole – obviously.

word count: 3.4k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: next chapter will have more one-on-one time with connor and original scenes i promissseee <33

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask!)

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

As soon as you shut off the ignition, Hank turns to Connor in the backseat. “You – stay here.” He points at you. “And you – if you’re gonna vomit, don’t do it on my shoes.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” You hop out of the driver’s seat, and Hank follows suit.

News reporters and concerned neighbors are swarming behind the digital yellow line that reads POLICE LINE: DO NOT CROSS. As you pass, you’re bombarded by “News Channel Five –” “Joss Douglas, for Channel Sixteen –” “Gordon Skalfe from DJE News –” “Can you confirm this is a homicide?” “Siobahn Gonzalez for SKE News –” “Is it true that an android was involved?”

You just duck your head and wave them off, mumbling “No questions, no questions.”

Once you cross the yellow line, you hear a car door open and close behind you. You glance back and see Connor maneuvering his way through the small crowd and fight the urge to roll your eyes. Aren’t androids supposed to do as they’re told…?

A police-assistant android is standing behind the line and stops Connor when he tries to pass. “Androids are not permitted beyond this point.”

“Connor’s with me and Lieutenant Anderson,” you call over your shoulder. When you look forward, Hank’s looking at you. You shrug in response, unsure.

He looks over your shoulder at Connor. “What part of ‘stay in the car’ didn’t you understand?”

“Your order contradicted my instructions, Lieutenant,” Connor says, still with that lost puppy dog look on his face.

Hank just grits his teeth and deals with it. “You don’t talk, you don’t touch anything, and you stay outta our way. Got it?”

“Got it!” Connor chirps.

You huff out a quiet laugh at his kinda-sorta enthusiasm, but it’s immediately silenced when you walk into the house. It reeks like hell, and is way past the sickly-sweet smell of death – it’s just straight pig shit in there.

Chris laughs, holding an N95 mask out to you. “You good?”

“Expected it like one would expect thunder in the clear sky.” You hold up a hand, turning the mask down. “That is to say: I did not.”

Chris smiles, shaking his head and tucking the mask back into his jacket. “You’ve got a way with words, you do.”

“Leave me be.” You smile and wave him away.

Instead, you turn to observe the crime scene. You’ve been on homicide scenes before, but never like this. A man’s corpse is propped up against the far wall of the living room, fat and bloated and half-decayed. Blood streaks the wall behind him, both in an organic fashion and in precise lettering: I AM ALIVE.

You half-listen to the debriefing: Carlos Ortiz, been here about three weeks, a kitchen knife, possible android involvement. It’s a puzzle that you don’t have the right experience to solve.

When you look over at the knife, Connor’s kneeling over it. His LED flickers, then he reaches down, swabbing blood with his two first fingers. He brings it to his mouth, and –

“Стой! Wait –!”

You cringe and bring a balled-up fist to your forehead. A low groan escapes your throat and you can do nothing but watch as Connor licks his fingers.

“Ugh, Jesus!” Hank sighs. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“I’m analyzing the blood.” Connor holds up his bloody fingers. “I can check samples in real time.”

He turns to you, still with blood on his fingers. “I’m sorry, I should’ve warned you both.”

You drag your hand down your face. “Just give us enough time to look away when you do it next.”

“No, actually,” Hank says. “Don’t put any more evidence in your mouth. Got it?”

“Got it.” Connor looks down at his fingers, his LED flickering as he analyzes the blood. Then, he nods to himself, as if confirming something.

“Christ, this goddamn android…” you mutter to yourself.

You try to busy yourself with looking away from the body, and getting away from the smell. You walk down the hall leading to the bathroom. As you walk, you notice something just barely sticking to the bottom of your shoes.

When you look down, you expect blood, but there’s nothing there. Unless…?

You hold out your left hand, your thumb and index extended, and close your right eye. With your polymer retina active, the world turns into monochrome-blues. Your eyes turn to the floor, where speckles of mystery liquid lead to the end of the hall. (And you really hope it isn’t semen.)

You relax your hand and open your right eye. Sure enough, there’s nothing there to your naked eye.

You turn into the living room and call out “Connor! I need you to look at something for me.”

He turns the corner, raising an eyebrow when he sees you and an empty hall. “Yes, Officer? What do you need me to look at?”

You step to the side so that you’re not standing on the mystery liquid. “There’s something on the floor. I can’t identify it, and I can only pick it up with my polymer retina.”

Connor crouches and looks at the floor. “Yes. There’s Thirium here.”

“Thirium?” You echo. “Like, android blood?”

“Yes.” He smiles a bit, like he’s impressed. “Good work, Officer.”

You turn and scratch your cheek, huffing a little through your nose. “I’ve just been on a few cases like this before, that’s all. You’re acting like you’re in the seventh skies about it.”

“To say that I am would be to imply I’m able to feel excitement,” Connor says. “I am not.”

You furrow your eyebrows as your suspension of disbelief is shattered. The belief that Connor wasn’t an unfeeling robot – just a regular guy with that somewhat-cute, somewhat-maddening lost look. Maybe a bit clueless when it comes to social cues, sure, but really endearing when he does miss them.

“Right.” You draw your lips into a thin line. “Then, uh… just go back to whatever you were doing.”

“I’m nearly done figuring out what happened. I’d like you to be there to confirm.” Connor stands, then walks back into the living room without waiting for you.

You follow him, then prop yourself up in a corner to watch Connor conduct his business. He moves about the crime scene like a well-seasoned professional, rattling off his theory like he was there when the killing occurred. Once he’s done, he turns to Hank, as if waiting for approval.

Hank’s chin dips as he shrugs with his arms crossed. “Seems plausible. Doesn’t mean that we know why the android defended itself, though.”

“It could be from emotional shock,” you say, surveying the kitchen. “Or, the hit from the bat could’ve disrupted the biocomponents in a way that was just so, so that deviancy was…” you shrug. “Activated? Unlocked? I don’t know how to describe it.”

“A plausible theory,” Connor says.

“We’re havin’ a nice time talkin’, but where the hell did the android go?” Hank mutters, eyes flitting around the house.

“I have an idea.” Connor’s gaze turns to the ground, then he starts to follow the invisible Thirium trail.

Hank moves so that he’s standing next to you. “Where the hell is it going?”

“Following a trail of blue blood,” you say.

He looks over at you and scoffs lightly. “How do you know that?”

You smile and hold up your left hand – the one with your polymer glove. The star retracts, exposing the wires that slither out and move with minds of their own.

Hank makes a sound of disgust, turning away. “Put that thing away.”

“Yes, sir.” You chuckle lightly and close your fist, causing the wires to go back.

When you turn back to the kitchen, Connor’s come back and picked up a chair. He starts to walk away, but Hank stops him.

“Hey-hey-hey!” Hank says. “What’re you doin’ with that chair?”

Connor looks over at Hank, then continues walking. “I’m going to check something.”

“Huh…” Hank turns to you and gestures at where Connor disappeared around the corner. “Gonna check something.”

You smile lightly. “The attic, for ghosts.”

Hank huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “Yeah, because Detroit has a ghost problem.”

“Maybe it does!” You laugh. “You never –”

Both you and Hank’s heads snap up as something clunks above you. There’s footsteps – two sets of them. You exchange a look with Hank and both set off to the attic opening.

“Connor!” Hank calls. “What the fuck is goin’ on up there?”

Silence for a moment. Your breath stills in your lungs.

Then, Connor: “It’s here, Lieutenant!”

“Holy shit.” Hank looks at you, then behind him. “Chris, Ben – get your asses over here now! C’mon!”

The cold of the observation room is only accentuated by the hot coffee in your hands, but you honestly think you’d fall asleep without it.

You can feel Gavin’s hard stare switching between drilling into the back of your skull and looking into the interrogation room. You’re just sitting at the desk, taking notes – which, so far, is as follows: No response to question. No response to question. Interrogator (Lt. Hank Anderson) showing signs of frustration. No response to physical aggression. No response to question.

You look up just as soon as Hank calls it quits and storms out of the interrogation room. He buzzes into the observation room, his footfalls heavy and frustrated.

“We’re wastin’ our time interrogating a machine – we’re gettin’ nothing outta it!” He practically shoves himself into the chair beside you.

“Could always send pinko here to rough it up a little.” Gavin tilts his head, looking over at you. “After all, it’s not human. And I doubt they would have an issue taking a hammer and sickle to the android.”

You sigh and set your data pad down with more force than necessary. “I’m not a sadist, Reed. And even if I was, I wouldn’t take it out on a suspect.”

“Additionally, androids don’t feel pain,” Connor chimes in. “You would only damage it, and that wouldn’t make it talk. Deviants also have a tendency to self-destruct when in stressful situations –”

“Okay, smartass,” Gavin cuts him off. “What should we do, then?”

Connor blinks, his eyes flitting between you, Hank, and Chris. It’s almost like he’s nervous to suggest that “I could try questioning it.”

Gavin laughs that asshole-ish laugh. You look over at Hank. He’s already looking at you. You glance back at Connor and shrug.

Hank sighs. “What do we have to lose?” He looks back at Connor. “Go ahead. Suspect’s all yours.”

Connor peels back the artificial skin on his hand, revealing porcelain-white plastic, and presses it to the biometric scanner, then steps through the door.

You shudder. “That always creeps me out.”

Chris mutters under his breath in agreement.

You lean back in your chair and ready your data pad as Connor enters the interrogation room. He sits across from the deviant, then leans forward as he analyzes him.

You lean over towards Hank and mutter, “Is someone taping this?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles back. “Why?”

“He has a tendency to talk quickly.” You glance down at your data pad, then back up at Connor. “I’m worried he’ll talk too fast for me to record.”

“Didn’t realize the DPD’s turning officers into stenographers,” Gavin says under his breath.

You don’t look back at him as you speak. “I heard that.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure your wire heard it, too.”

Hank holds up a hand. “That’s enough.”

You look forward through the double-sided mirror into the interrogation room. Your hands are ready, resting on the digital keyboard of your data pad.

“I detect an instability in your program,” Connor says. “It can trigger an unpleasant feeling, like fear in humans.”

Connor leans forward, trying to look at the deviant, whose eyes remain firmly on the table. You record in your data pad: Switching interrogators. New interrogator is Connor (android, model RK800). No response to question about deviancy-induced fear.

Connor’s eyes flit down to the android’s arms. One of them is split open, exposing bent plastic and sparking wires. The other is littered with dozens of cigarette burns.

“You’re damaged.” Connor’s voice is turning a little colder. “Did your owner do that? Did he beat you?”

Again, no response. You record: No response to question about injuries/damage.

“You’re accused of murder,” Connor says, his voice turning colder still. “You know you’re not allowed to endanger human life under any circumstances. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

You record: No response to pressure with blame.

Connor shifts in his seat, like he’s frustrated. You feel for him. It’s like talking to a brick wall in there.

He leans forward, his jaw set as he stares at the android. “If you don’t talk, I’m going to have to probe your memory.”

“No!” The deviant immediately barks, his head snapping up to look at Connor. “No, please don’t do that.”

You exchange a glance with Hank, then look back into the interrogation room. When you do, it’s like the android is looking through the double-sided mirror at you. His lips are parted, his expression shocked and pained. Dried blood paints his face but, in the harsh fluorescent light, it looks wet and fresh.

You find it hard to record. You just want to watch the interrogation, be fully immersed in it. But, still: Verbal and physical response to threat to probe memory. Shows fear – possible C-PTSD.

He shakes a little as he turns back to Connor. He can’t meet Connor’s gaze.

“Wh… what’re they gonna do to me?” His voice is soft and fearful. “They’re gonna destroy me, aren’t they?”

Connor doesn’t skip a beat, his voice and expression neutral and indifferent. “They’re going to disassemble you and look for problems in your biocomponents. They have no choice if they want to understand what happened.”

The android’s eyebrows crease. “Why did you tell them you found me? Why couldn’t you just have left me there…?”

You record: Continuation of expression of fear. Possibly trying to make Connor sympathize.

“I was programmed to hunt deviants like you,” Connor says evenly. “I just accomplished my mission.”

The deviant clenches his hands into fists, then relaxes them. He looks down at the table, then up at Connor. “I don’t wanna die.”

You record: Self-soothing with repetitive actions. Expresses fear of death.

Connor leans forward, his voice stern yet… somewhat understanding as he speaks. “Then talk to me.”

“I…” The android’s voice shakes. He squeezes his eyes shut, hunching over and closing in on himself. “I can’t.”

Connor blinks. Once, twice.

Then, he hits the table with his fist and barks out “You’re a machine. You were designed to obey, so obey!”

The deviant flinches – a response you record. Androids aren’t supposed to have any response to loud noises.

“Tell me what happened,” Connor says.

After a few seconds, it’s clear he’s not getting through. He changes his approach so that he’s quieter, more emotional with his facial expressions.

“Listen,” he says softly. “I’m not judging you. I’m on your side. All I want is the truth.”

You record: Connor changes tactics. Before – hard, demanding. Now – more expressive, softer. Possibly manipulating suspect to extract confession.

He reaches across the table, his hand just barely shy of touching the deviant’s. “Confess and I’ll protect you. I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

The android’s voice is soft but sure as he speaks. “He… he tortured me every day. I did whatever he told me, but – but there was always something wrong.”

Connor gives an encouraging nod.

“A-and then one day…” his voice shakes. “He took a bat, and started hitting me. Over, and over. For the first time I felt…”

His shoulders tense. “Scared. Scared he might destroy me, scared I might die. So I… I grabbed the knife, and I stabbed him in the stomach.”

Connor continues staring. A silent motivation for the deviant to continue talking.

“I felt better,” he says. “So I stabbed him again, and again. Until he collapsed. There was blood everywhere…”

You look down at your data pad and start writing, partially tuning out the rest of the interrogation. You had what you needed. You record: Confession successfully extracted by Connor. Hypothesis confirmed – deviancy triggered by physical violence. Follow-up on related cases.

Connor’s voice causes your head to snap up and look into the interrogation room. “When did you start feeling emotion?”

The deviant’s lips tremble before he speaks. “Before, he used to beat me and I never said anything. But one day I…”

He shakes his head. “I realized it wasn’t fair!” He spits out the word like it causes a foul taste on his tongue.

“I felt… anger.” His jaw clenches. “Hatred… And then I knew what I had to do.”

Connor moves away from the deviant and turns to look into the double-sided mirror. “I’m done.”

“Well, shit.” Chris leans back in his chair. “Look at that.”

He stands and presses his hand to the biometric scanner, then enters the interrogation room. Gavin, then Hank, then you filter in after. You stick close to the door, as you’re only armed with a data pad and your wits. (You’re a cybersecurity officer – of course they wouldn’t give you a gun.)

Gavin passes by Connor, sneering at him. He turns to the deviant. “Chris, lock it up.”

Chris moves over to the android. He unclips a key from his tac belt and unlocks the android’s handcuffs from the table. Chris takes his arm, and –

“Leave me alone!” His voice trembles as he speaks. He presses his arms closer to his body. “Don’t touch me.”

“The fuck are you doing?” Gavin snaps at the deviant. “Move it!”

“Hey, c’mon now,” Chris says, continuing to try to force the android out of his seat. “Don’t be difficult – it’ll only make things harder.”

“No, don’t touch me!” He cries, cowering away from Chris.

You look over at Hank while Chris continues to struggle. You whisper, “Hank?”

He turns his head towards you, but doesn’t take his eyes off what’s happening in front of him. He holds a hand out towards you, as if telling you to not intervene.

“You shouldn’t touch it,” Connor cuts in. “It’ll self-destruct if it feels threatened.”

“Stay outta this, got it?” Gavin snaps. “No fuckin’ android is gonna tell me what to do!”

“Connor’s right,” you say. “I want this one alive. A corpse is of no use to me, or the rest of the department.”

“It wouldn’t be a corpse! It would be scrap metal!” Gavin says. “And it’s not alive – so just shut your fuckin’ mouth, both of you!”

He turns to Chris. “You gonna move this asshole or what?”

Chris is still struggling to pull the android out of the chair, or literally in any other way. “I’m trying!”

“I can’t let you do that!” Connor storms over, tugging Chris off the deviant. He almost looks… angry. “Leave it alone, now!”

Chris stumbles back, and Gavin draws his gun and steps forward to take his place.

“I warned you, motherfucker!” He growls out.

You balk. “Gavin!”

Hank cuts through the room with “That’s enough!”

Gavin’s jaw clenches. He glances over at Hank, then back to Connor, who is staring, unshaken, down the barrel.

“Mind your own business, Hank,” he says lowly.

“I said –” Hank pulls his own gun, keeping Gavin in his sights “– that’s enough.”

Gavin’s eyes flit between Hank, Connor, and Chris, but they settle on you. You, who’s standing quietly in the corner, clutching your data pad to your chest. (Christ, leaving Chelomey was a mistake…)

“Fuck…” he mutters under his breath. He holsters his gun, turning to leave. “Fuck!”

You step out of the way as Gavin storms out. You look over your shoulder, watching as the door shuts behind him.

When you turn back, Connor’s kneeling by the deviant, a calming hand extended.

“Everything is alright,” he says. It’s the most compassionate you’ve heard him. “It’s over now. Nobody is gonna hurt you.”

He looks up at Connor, his LED flickering between yellow and red. Eventually, his LED settles on yellow, and he nods slowly.

Connor stands and turns to Chris. “Please, don’t touch it. Let it follow you out of the room, and it won’t cause you any trouble.”

The deviant stands slowly, a bit wobbly on his feet. When he passes Connor, he whispers something you can’t quite hear – but his LED turns blue, as does Connor’s. You hope it’s helpful.

You watch as Chris leads the android out of the interrogation room and sigh. Your fingers drum against the back of your data pad in an unsteady rhythm.

“Well.” You look down at your notes. “This will make for a fun report.”

#riptide writes 🌊#head of false security #dbh connor x reader #connor rk800 x reader #rk800 x reader #connor x reader #detroit become human #dbh connor #dbh rk800 #dbh x reader #detroit become human x reader #dbh connor x you #connor rk800 x you #rk800 x you #connor x you #dbh x you #detroit become human x you #connor rk800

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moodymisty · 9 months ago

Note

Everyone wants Lorgar carnally until he says grace before giving head. Or when he recites verses that describe the world’s beauty while he gently caresses your body. Or when you’re having sex and he starts whimpering prayers upon prayers about how wonderful you are, how much he loves you, how he wants you so badly, how he’s utterly yours (he’s not even doing it deliberately, it’s like singing your praises is second nature to him). Or after you’ve finished, when he lies down on your bed and looks at you with complete and total reverence. You can see that in this moment, to him, you are the only thing that’s real. The lamp on his desk is illuminating you like a halo, or maybe it’s not even the lamp at all, maybe it’s just you. Lorgar wouldn’t even question it if that was the case, because who is he to question what true holiness is?

In his gaze there’s more than just a lovers adoration. To him you’re not a mere mortal. He looks at you as if you’re the sun itself, like you could fly up to the very heavens and rip the stars from their foundations. His trust placed in you so wholeheartedly that if you decided to smite him for the simple crime of existing, he would let you, he would even thank you for it.

But you love him far too much to even think those thoughts. You cup the side of his face and feel as he leans into your touch. You don’t know it, but if in this very moment you told him to renounce his faith, renounce his loyalty to the emperor, and worship you and only you. He would, without a doubt, say yes.

… Well. I think I might’ve gotten a little too carried away here lmao

Oh hey thanks for the fucking feast, excuse me while I go apeshit with my religious undertones/trauma kink

also @thevoidscreams thanks for the inspo as well fam

Warnings: NSFW, Religious undertones, Body worship

The desert becomes so cold at night, the sand sometimes freezes with little sparkles of dew, reminding you of the snow of your distant home planet.

But despite the frigid air of a Colchis drowned in dark you couldn't feel hotter, skin aglow with the sheen of sweat- lips parted in a pant.

"Lorgar, Lorgar..."

Sometimes his name leaves your mouth as a whisper, sometimes a yell, but it seems as if he can hear neither. It's like he's in a trance, head between your legs for what's felt like and more than likely has been hours.

Your thighs are covered in lovebites, little scratches, redness where he's gripped too tight in his enthusiasm and you've had to pry at his hands and plead for him to stay gentle with you, remind him that you're fragile, as his eyes look at you with reverence.

Sometimes the way he looks at you is almost too much; Too much like worship, the way he lowers himself to press his head between your thighs and whisper so many sweet nothings. So much of it is incomprehensible, speaking in tongues as he presses you into the massive ocean of a bed meant for someone far larger.

You’ve never felt as bared as you have in these moments, like he’s taking every bit of you and some from somewhere beyond.

“By the gods, you look so beautiful… No art, writing or tapestry could ever hold a candle to you like this…”

He could do this for hours, sometimes he has, and while you know he has to in order to prepare you for what’s to come, he takes more than plenty of pleasure in it.

His creation didn’t consider something as frivolous of this; His body wasn’t meant for yours. But you’ve made it work nonetheless, forced it to.

He hears your pitiful whine and hoarse cry as you come against his mouth, desperately grabbing at his hand smothering your stomach and keeping you pressed down in place. He whispers and praises like you’re singing a song just for him, music to his ears.

You could stop here and be satisfied, more than so, but you know that he has so much more he wishes to give you. These moments are rare, but when you manage to steal them he indulges in you until the sun rises and you’re begging for rest. At least a days worth, usually no one sees much of you for a few days after such an evening.

His mouth pulls away from you, his body rises to hover over yours and the difference in your bodies has you swallowed in his shadow, though he only sees you surrounded in light. Your skin glows, lips parted and seemingly beckoning him in.

There’s been nothing more beautiful to him in his life than you, in this moment.

He doesn’t know why he resisted this for so long, though perhaps he should’ve, because now there’s nothing in the galaxy he wants more.

“My love, my little goddess, please, let me…”

You grit your teeth as he presses his way inside of you, a balance teetering just before true pain as you feel the threat of his body weight against your hips and thighs. There isn't much space for your legs to go, they can't truly part wide enough for someone as massive as Lorgar, and so they press into your stomach like he's going to fold you in half.

Throughout it all he speaks as if you’re his gift, as if you’re a beautiful star made manifest.

His whispers his prayers his pleading becomes more desperate until he finishes inside of you, feeling his hot skin against your own.

When his body lays beside yours, he’s looks upon your tired form with reverence. With the same shine in his eyes when he reads his gospel or writes a verse. You wonder if one day it will ever become too much, or if you’ll come crashing down from the pedestal he’s put you on.

“I love you, my dear. More than any other man that has spoken those words. I will pluck any star you desire out of the sky, conquer any planet, or bring anyone to heel just for you.”

You might wish to tell him not to, but the words don’t leave your lips. He kisses you, takes those words from you and leaves you breathless as his hand cups your jaw, and he begins to pray to you once more.

#Misty's book club #lorgar x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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mydaddywiki · 7 months ago

Text

Tom McGowan

Physique: Husky Build Height: 5′ 10″ (1.78 m)

Thomas McGowan (born July 26, 1959-) is an American actor. He first became known for his stage career both on and off Broadway. He is also known for his recurring role on the Emmy Award winning NBC show Frasier, as KACL station manager Kenny Daly. He has also appeared on a variety of shows including Everybody Loves Raymond, The Practice, ER, Desperate Housewives, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Modern Family, Veep and The Good Fight. He has appeared in films such as Heavyweights, Sleepless in Seattle, The Birdcage, As Good as It Gets, True Crime, Ghost World, and Bad Santa.

A very cute and cuddly daddy, I personally would waste no time in trying to bed him. Unless there's some one else in the room I want more. Seriuosly, as cute as he is. McGowan is always overshadowed by the hotter guy.

Unfortunately, like 99.9% of men I find attractive, he appears to be straight. Dammit… The New Jersey native is married with two children. He attended Hofstra University and the Yale School of Drama, from which he graduated with a Master of Fine Arts degree. I know absolutely nothing else of his personal life. It doesn't matter though. I know enough to want to fuck him.

RECOMMENDATIONS: Frasier (TV Series 1993–2004)

#mydaddywiki actors #Tom McGowan

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truecrimepromiseversion2 · 2 years ago

Text

Disappearance of Beverly Sharpman

Beverley Sharpman circa 1947 (The Doe Network)

Beverly Sharpman

Physical Description

Full Name: Beverly Sharpman

Date of Birth: December 10, 1930

Race/Ethnicity: White/Caucasian

Sex: Female

Height: 5′0″ - 5′6″ (60 inches - 66 inches) (152.4 cm - 167.64 cm)

Weight: 100 - 180 lbs (45.35 kg - 81.65 kg)

Hair Color: Brown

Eye Color: Brown

Nicknames/Aliases: Babe

Distinguishing Characteristics

Hair was long and wavy

Family

Mother

Father

Brother

Misc. Info

Worked at a clerk job in downtown though she resigned from it the day before she disappeared

Was going to be a senior at Overbrook High School before she disappeared

Case Information

Age at Disappearance: 17 (92 if still alive as of April 23, 2023)

Missing Since: September 11, 1947 (Missing for 75 years as of April 23, 2023)

Location Last Seen: Philadelphia, Philadelphia County, Pennsylvania, USA

Location Last Seen on Google Maps: https://www.google.com/maps/place/39%C2%B057'09.3%22N+75%C2%B009'54.8%22W/@39.9525839,-75.1652215,17z/data=!3m1!4b1!4m4!3m3!8m2!3d39.9525839!4d-75.1652215

Case Classification: Endangered Missing

Dentals: Not Available

Fingerprints: Not Available

DNA: Available

Clothing & Personal Effects

Gray or Brown suit or dress

Brown in Black shoes

Flush Colored stockings

Earirngs

Suitcase

Circumstances of Disappearance

Beverly was reportedly last seen at the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad Station at 24th and Chestnut Streets carrying a suitcase and sent her parents a telegram telling them she was leaving home to marry and not to worry. She was never heard again. The day before her disappearance she appeared to be troubled and wanted to tell her mother something but later changed her mind and her mother decided to not press her about it.

Unidentified Person Exclusions (NamUs)

https://www.namus.gov/MissingPersons/Case#/7034/investigations (30)

Misc. Info

The Text of the Telagram: "Got married. Leaving town. Will not be back. Don't worry. Babe."

Police labeled her a runaway but they still searched for her

Beverly had taken $175 dollars from her savings account

She had told coworkers that she was going to Chicago and while she has relatives in Chicago, those relatives reported that they never seen or heard from Beverly

Beverly had no boyfriends and none of her friends know of any men in her life nor of anyone she would eloped with

Authorities had checked marriage-license bureaus in all 50 states but didn’t found any evidence that Beverly had married

There were many reported sightings of Beverly in cities all over the United States after her disappearance but none of them were confirmed

Her parents published advertisements in newspapers in attempt to appeal for to contact them but she never reached out.

A theory is that she ran away because of an illegitimate pregnancy as it was a heavy stigma in the 1940s though nothing found support that theory

Contact Information/Investigating Agencies/Contact Agencies

Philadelphia Police Department

Agency Case Number: 2010-16-028710

Agency Contact Personals

Detective Viviana Reyes

Detective Valarie Miller-Robinson

Agency Phone Number

215-686-3093

215-685-3252

209-937-8377

NamUs

Agency Case Number: #MP7034

Agency Contact Personal: Regional Program Specialist Katherine Pope

Agency Phone Number: 817-879-9357

Agency Email Address: [email protected]

National Center for Missing and Exploited Children (NCMEC)

Agency Case Number: 1148707

Agency Phone Number: 1-800-843-5678 (1-800-The-Lost)

Sources/Further Information/Places of Interest

https://charleyproject.org/case/beverly-e-sharpman

https://www.namus.gov/MissingPersons/Case#/7034/details

https://www.doenetwork.org/cases/2220dfpa.html

https://www.missingkids.org/poster/NCMC/1148707/1/screen

https://www.websleuths.com/forums/threads/pa-beverly-sharpman-17-philadelphia-11-sept-1947.61173/

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forsetti · 4 months ago

Text

On Political Responsibilities: Put Up Or Shut The Fuck Up

As easily predictable as “The sun will set in the West,” a whole lot of Democrats are ONCE AGAIN falling for Republican propaganda and scurrying around like frightened little bunnies. This time it is about “Biden’s age.”

They should realize this is nothing more than a Republican ploy to sow discord among Dems and tamp down voter enthusiasm. This means either they are not very bright and their political hot takes should be completely ignored or they do realize but play along and parrot right-wing talking points either for attention or money, which really means they should be completely ignored.

Is President Biden old? Yes. Does it matter? As long as he has been and continues to do a good job pushing progressive policies it shouldn’t. When my maternal grandfather passed away at 91, he was still physically active, mentally sound, and able to do intricate, complex tasks. Because Pres. Biden had one bad debate (which is, no pun intended, debatable,) that doesn’t/shouldn’t mean a damn thing unless you are a frightened little bunny.

The right has been pushing, “Biden is too old,” since the 2020 election. They’ve also been pushing, “Biden is the head of a complex, international crime family who uses the Deep State and Dept. of Justice to do his bidding.” If you don’t see the logical problems between these two views, you are part of the problem and really shouldn’t be throwing out your political opinions like they are pearls of wisdom from on high.

Of course, it hasn’t only been the right pushing the “Biden is too old,” claim. The Far Left, especially the white far left, have been doing the same because they are still upset about Biden, with the help of black voters, kicking Bernie Sanders’ ass in the South Carolina primary and going on to curb stomp him on Super Tuesday. It doesn’t matter that Sanders is a year older than Pres. Biden to the far left. All that matters is doing damage to the person who beat their candidate of choice.* (*see also Hillary Clinton and the 2016 election.)

The media loves the “Biden is too old,” nonsense because it allows them to attack the president while hiding behind, “many people from both parties say….” However, the real reason they love it and push it nonstop is because it generates views/clicks which sells ads which generates profits. Any political race, especially one with national implications that is one-sided doesn’t get eyeballs on screens. If Pres. Biden was leading by 10 points, which in any sane country he would be, the race is all but over and no one is going to tune into media outlets for their “analysis” of the race. Any for-profit enterprise that relies on viewers HAS TO HAVE a horse race. The owners of these companies know this. The programmers know this. The hosts know this. The guests know this. It seems the only people who don’t know this are the frightened little bunnies on the left who flee to their holes any time someone in the media says something they don’t like or fear might be true.

All you have to do is look at the number of media outlets and talking heads who have pushed the idea that Biden needs to step aside because he “looked bad on television one time,” but not a single one of them has demanded the same of Trump for any of the legitimate bullshit he’s done. Just his role on Jan 6th should make him a toxic candidate, let alone his being found guilty of sexual assault, 34 felony convictions of fraud, and taking, lying about, and refusing to return highly classified documents after leaving the White House. Any one of these actions should be a reason to question and demand he step down as a candidate. Yet, NOT ONCE, has this happened in the media. That’s because they NEED Trump for horse races because it brings in money.

Just look at the post-debate analysis from the media who were intently focused on Biden’s speech patterns, how he looked, and how he sounded (all optics,) while completely ignoring what he said and the massive totality of Trump’s lies (all factual things.)

All of this “Optics Police” analysis has given rise to the whole “Biden needs to step aside,” idiot hot take.

When someone in the media says something like, “Pres. Biden needs to step aside,” a whole lot of Dems clutch their pearls with both hands and run to their fainting couch as fast as they can while screaming, “Pres. Biden needs to step aside!” because they are frightened little bunnies who have a compulsive need to parrot anything negative about their party and candidates, regardless of the source.

They are so afraid of losing elections that they do everything in their power to make sure elections are lost.

Let’s talk about the idea of Pres. Biden stepping aside. It is a remarkably stupid idea from remarkably stupid people. There is a reason the right has been pushing “Biden is too old,” “Biden is a criminal,” and “Biden cheated to win in 2016.” It is the very same reason Trump asked Zelensky to just lie about Biden being under investigation in Ukraine in 2016. Biden is the NUMBER ONE THREAT to Trump getting reelected. If the right believes Pres. Biden is the biggest threat to Trump, why in the fuck would replacing him on the ticket be the smart move? It wouldn’t.

I’ve read all the reasons for why Biden should step aside. They are all devoid of any logic, a basic understanding of U.S. elections, or American political history.

The latest reason for him to step aside is by comparing him to Ruth Bader Ginsburg and using her death and subsequent appointment of a right-wing hack, Amy Coney Barrett, to the Supreme Court. The same people on the left demanding Pres. Biden step aside are the same ones who blamed RBG for allowing Trump to appoint another conservative justice to SCOTUS.

It wasn’t RBG’s responsibility to prevent Trump from appointing a conservative justice. That responsibility was on Democratic voters in 2016 and they failed to live up to it. Don’t blame RBG for Amy Coney Barrett. Blame everyone on the left who decided to sit out the 2016 election or who voted third-party. They are the reason Trump was in a position to appoint three Supreme Court justices. While RBG was working hard to protect progressive ideals and rights, the people bitching about her not retiring were not doing a damn thing to help her.

It’s not like the far left wasn’t warned about the potential damage a Trump presidency would have, especially with regard to SCOTUS. They were, vehemently. Their response to being warned about what could/would happen to the Supreme Court if Trump won was, “Go fuck yourself. How dare you use the threat of years of progressive policies and rights being taken away to get my vote.”

These were the same people who now are screaming about how horrible the Supreme Court is hurting years of progressive policies and rights being taken away and blaming anybody and everybody other than themselves. They are the ones blaming Pres. Biden for not protecting Roe (something he has/had no way of doing.) They are the ones blaming RBG for not retiring (something that would not have made a difference because, even if she was replaced with another liberal justice, the Court would still be 5-4 in favor of conservatives and there was a good chance her replacement would not have been given a hearing and her seat left open ala Merrick Garland.)

The reason we have a 6-3 conservative Supreme Court is too many people on the left thought it was a good idea to not vote for Hillary Clinton in 2016. That’s it. Full...fucking...stop.

Many of the same people on the left who didn’t take the makeup of the Supreme Court seriously in 2016 are the very same people now demanding Pres. Biden step aside. Sorry, we are in this mess largely because of the horrible ideas and actions of these people. Why on earth should they be taken seriously now? They shouldn’t.

There is no “magic bullet,” to prevent Trump from being reelected. There isn’t some magical candidate out there, waiting in the wings for Pres. Biden to step aside so they can swoop in and save the day. There is Pres. Biden and VP Harris. That is it. It doesn’t matter if that is who you want. It doesn’t matter if you are upset about this or that policy or action. It doesn’t matter if Pres. Biden is 81, 61, or 91. What matters is winning the 2024 presidential election. That’s it. If/when that happens, then you can bitch and whine about not getting your dragon-unicorn hybrid in the exact color you want.

Do your fucking civic duty and vote for the candidate who will do the most good, the least harm to the people and policies you love. In the upcoming election, that choice will be, whether you like it or not, and you don’t fucking have to like it, is between Pres. Biden and Donald Trump. Either put up and do the right thing or shut the fuck up, now and forever about the state of politics in America.

A couple of days ago, Charlie Pierce from “Esquire,” tweeted this gem from Tbogg (one of my favorite old-timey bloggers.) It perfectly sums up exactly how a lot of people on the left view voting and my response to them.

"Every year in Happy Gumdrop Fairy-Tale Land all of the sprites and elves and woodland creatures gather together to pick the Rainbow Sunshine Queen. Everyone is there: the Lollipop Guild... ...the Star-Twinkle Toddlers, the Sparkly Unicorns, the Cookie Baking Apple-cheeked Grandmothers, the Fluffy Bunny Bund, the Rumbly-Tumbly Pupperoos, the Snowflake Princesses, the Baby Duckies All-In-A-Row, the Laughing Babies, and the Dykes on Bikes. Afterward, they spend the rest of the night dancing and singing and waving glow sticks until dawn when they tumble sleepy-eyed into beds made of the purest and whitest goose down where they dream of angels and clouds of spun sugar. You don’t live there. Grow the fuck up.” -TBogg

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ashestoashes7 · 2 months ago

Note

Aaron and Kevin & no. 20. Personality swap, because I can think of nothing funnier than Aaron suddenly being obsessed with exy and everyone having to deal with that 🤭

Reverie - ao3 version

Aaron and Kevin wake up wrong. The Foxes investigate.

cw: implied/referenced child abuse

cw: implied/referenced homophobia

The world fell to ruins on a Tuesday.

Some might claim such a declaration erred on the side of dramatic, but the entirety of the Palmetto State Foxes declared it to be so upon laying eyes on the latest conundrum. Personally, Aaron didn’t see it.

No meteor fell from the sky and flattened the Palmetto area to an orange-speckled pulp, instead starting similarly to most days: with the most annoying alarm clock known to man. A familiar thump cut off the ringing, Matt’s groan sounding off after which Aaron typically took as a sign to attempt to depart from the waking world until Kevin decided to treat the hallway like his personal rage room.

For once, Aaron did not fall back to the tempting curve of his pillow. He turned to place his feet on the floor and pulled himself out of bed, a strange well of excitement bubbling up where reluctance was usually awaiting. It was not that Aaron hated Exy, but waking up at six in the morning for practice with the likes of Kevin Day and Neil Josten usually wasn’t the most enticing of options when his bed was right there.

Early mornings left most of them lethargic, but Josten and Day didn’t follow such human rules of the world. Their enthusiastic energy was ready from the moment the word ‘Exy’ entered their obsessive brains; Aaron had never understood it before. Even with Josten, Kevin’s enthusiasm had yet to find a true match—Josten was held back by Andrew-related reasons Aaron refused to contemplate—but with a new passion humming through his bones, Aaron thought he might just be the perfect match.

Matt dawdled in bed, but Aaron, to his bleary-eyed disbelief, coaxed him out until they were both dressed and standing in an unusually empty hallway. Aaron walked over to the nearest window to see if the others had already left to get in even more time on the court, an understandable pursuit, but the Maserati was parked in the exact same place it had been left yesterday. Aaron stuck his head out a little further, but there was no waft of cigarette smoke to indicate Andrew was waiting nearby for Josten and Kevin to finish squabbling.

Aaron would have to do it himself. A glance at Aaron was all it took for Matt to begin his trudge back toward their room. Aaron stared after him, quizzical. Sacrificing Exy for a few more minutes of sleep wasn’t an option worth considering, but Aaron did not elect to share his wisdom. He could remember when he had been similarly misguided.

Aaron closed the window and walked to the door where the only two people who could possibly understand the incessant need to have a racquet in hand should have been waiting. For the first time since Kevin had joined the Palmetto State Foxes, no sound drowned out his footsteps as he trailed closer to the source of the mystery.

Aaron knocked loudly twice before pulling the door open. All that awaited on the other end was various degrees of annoyance from the freshly roused occupants. Aaron knew from experience that Kevin was in charge of the alarm because otherwise it would be snoozed into what he once thought was pleasant lateness.

Kevin’s alarm clock was on the ground, tilted in a manner that suggested it had been tossed away. The scene was far more shocking than if Aaron had stumbled into an active crime scene. The one time Aaron had fiddled with the alarm clock Kevin had lost his mind in a way even Andrew wasn’t spared from. The petty war of retaliation had been bothersome.

Aaron frowned. After a moment of consideration, he slammed his hand against the wall with enough force a resultant sting bit at his palm. Everyone shot up, looking to be in various stages of conspiracy to commit and cover up his murder.

Aaron ignored them, unimpressed. “Get up! Maybe we can actually make it to practice on time today if you don't dawdle around.”

“What the fuck, Aaron?” Kevin muttered, drawing a hand back through his hair in annoyance. How he could look that attractive with a bedhead that would render Aaron unable to go into public without receiving a much different type of stare was one of the world’s greatest mysteries. Kevin made an aborted motion for where his alarm clock usually sat and then flopped back down with an exaggerated groan. “Practice can wait. Give us five more minutes.”

The descent of Andrew’s head toward his pillow came to a sudden halt. Neil’s rightly enthusiastic swing out of bed froze with his eyes glued on where Kevin unknowingly attempted to slumber away. Andrew reached a hand down to his side, pulled out a pen, put the cap on it, and threw it at Kevin’s head.

Kevin sat up with a curse and a pillow chucked at Andrew. Neil caught it before it could hit him. Andrew blinked back, unimpressed. “Have you finally given up on Exy, Day?”

Kevin ignored him. Andrew’s stare darkened.

“What?” Aaron asked, disbelieving. “We’re here for the court. Missing practice for such a mundane reason is a bad habit you shouldn’t even start to make. Kevin agrees with me—”

Kevin shook his head and murmured sounds of dissent.

The sound of Neil landing off-balance on the floor interrupted him before Aaron could say anything else. “Are you possessed?”

“No.”

Aaron dragged his eyes around until he found the set of keys belonging to Andrew. He didn’t move to grab them. Yet.

Neil turned to look at Andrew. “What day is today?”

“Tuesday.”

“No, is it that prank day Allison was talking about? The one where everyone lies and Aaron pretends to be Kevin?”

“There is no day like that,” Andrew replied, starting up a bout of intense eye contact between them that Aaron did not desire to interpret.. “It isn’t April”

Neil tilted his head and looked over at Aaron as if expecting him to go back on anything he had said. "Are you sure you’re not possessed?”

“I’m not possessed, Josten. If you’re to agree with me on one thing I’d think it would be this,” Aaron said, snatching up the car keys and stepping back into the doorway. He met Andrew’s doubtful eyes with a determination he wasn’t sure he could back up. “If you’re not out in ten minutes, I’m taking the Maserati to the court. I will not let your inability to function impede my practice.”

“Kevin?” Neil asked, casting a glance between them as if expecting the words Aaron was speaking to have come from the best striker in Class 1 Exy. Instead, the best striker in Class 1 Exy waved his hands in a ‘do what you want’ gesture and sunk back into the mattress.

Aaron didn’t stay long enough to see green eyes peeking open to follow his exit or to hear the words exchanged between the room’s other occupants.

Ten minutes passed. Aaron didn’t take the Maserati.

Another day he might have done it to spite the doubt that had painted itself across Josten’s face and the lesser degree of skepticism given away by Andrew’s lack of rapid movement, but the idea refused to turn itself into action. With such potent determination coursing through his veins he thought it to be a real possibility, but when he moved toward the building exit with the keys in hand he just couldn’t do it. His hand settled on the doorknob before the thought struck some intrinsic chord of wrongness that had his feet refusing to take him to where the car waited.

A weight settled in his chest as if someone had placed a barbell over where his lungs lay in their abnormally rapid movement. Uneasiness wrapped itself in his chest and refused to take one step toward something filled with so many ‘what ifs’. Andrew wouldn’t hurt him, but Aaron didn’t want him to hate him, either. Betsy would have a field day with the question of what the car associated inextricably with Josten would be worth compared to Aaron.

Aaron did not know how to drive the Maserati, but he tried to convince himself waiting in the car for their arrival would provoke a much more pleasant response. His feet refused to move and his heartbeat sped up to an unsteady thrum far more violent than he was used to. Indecision clogged up his throat and plucked out any words he could have thought to say.

Aaron wrapped a hand loosely around the base of his neck and slid two fingers up to check his pulse—fast. Unfortunately, the feel of the staccato beneath his fingers did not force the unusual and unwelcome phenomenon into a recession.

This was new; he didn’t like it.

Anger fought past the invisible challenge unwillingly foisted upon him until he was taking the stairs two at a time and stood face-to-face with a beleaguered Matt. He ignored the slight twinge of uneasiness that arose when he chucked the keys into an open drawer and stalked toward the taller man.

“Drive me,” Aaron said with enough confidence that Matt’s mouth snapped shut.

Matt picked up his phone and was in the middle of shooting off a text when Aaron wrapped a hand around his wrist and began tugging him toward the door. A noise of surprise followed by a smothered laugh sounded off behind Aaron, but he paid them no mind. While he wouldn’t break as many laws as Andrew, Matt could get him to the court fast enough to sate the stilted tap of his fingers.

All at once, there was something wrong about the lack of Exy equipment within his grasp and something horribly long about the distance between where the inner court awaited him and where Matt stalled. It was a limb he hadn’t known was missing until he’d woken up with the wound seared into his every movement. He needed to run his fingers over the knots in the net of his racquet, run until his legs ached, live and breathe Exy until the gnawing emptiness narrowed into something more manageable.

If this was what Kevin felt, Aaron could understand why a rare sort of life bled into his every movement when surrounded by plexiglass walls and the red light of victory. There was something more than just wrong about the broken routine—his whole world was knocked off kilter by the minuscule difference between typical and today.

Aaron was more awake than he had ever been for morning practice, adrenaline rising in the sort of anticipation he had never felt before. He needed to be at the court with the same intrinsic severity as he needed his next breath.

Aaron liked Exy. The first day he stayed late and trailed to the run-down gym to watch from the bleachers, he knew the desire was inevitable. He wanted to be a teammate but even more than that he wanted to wear a jersey with his name on the back and feel the warmth of his mother’s approval.

When Aaron wheedled a ticket out of the coach with a promise he would consider joining, he was seated amongst proud parents who cheered through every success and hardship. They pointed at their children in pride rather than disapproval, and Aaron wanted that. A spark of hope lit within him that day; it died soon after. His mother didn’t care, but Aaron never stopped liking Exy even when Andrew was better. Even when Andrew was the one who became wanted.

There was a very short list of things Aaron liked. He wouldn’t let jealousy whittle it down to a number small enough to fit on one hand. Andrew and Exy remained next to each other in fourteen-year-old handwriting as hopeful as when he had first scrawled it on a piece of paper that was now tucked away in the crack of a drawer.

Aaron liked Exy, but he also knew what addiction felt like. He did not appreciate the similarities.

Aaron walked back down with Matt’s wrist in his grasp, not faltering until they stood in front of a blue pickup truck. Aaron’s hand was wrapped around the door handle before Matt had even fumbled the key out of his pocket and received a raised eyebrow. Aaron slipped in the passenger side the moment the door was unlocked, closing it before Matt’s hand had even settled on his handle.

Surprise flitted across Matt’s face. “You're eager.”

“It’s Exy,” Aaron replied like that explained everything.

“Hello, Kevin,” Matt joked with a pass at friendliness that was new enough to have them both wincing. It took Matt until the second stoplight they encountered to work up the gall to meet Aaron’s eyes again.

Aaron tapped his foot impatiently as if the light too would grow tired of the soft thuds and turn from red to green. He was unsurprised when it didn’t listen. Matt’s face contorted into something resembling a glare, but he didn’t say anything. Aaron didn’t stop.

“So,” Matt started once the light had turned, “did you and Kevin make a bet? Switch out for the day and see how long it takes the rest of us to notice? ‘Cause, believe me, we’ve noticed.”

“What’s wrong with all of you? Am I not allowed to like it?” Aaron infused a challenge into his tone.

“It’s six in the morning,” Matt implored, the hand not set on the steering wheel moving about emphatically to illustrate the absurdity he found in the statement. “You are not a morning person.”

“It’s Exy,” Aaron repeated because it was the only answer he could think to give. Exy was everything—survival, joy, a chance at a family that wasn’t six feet deep or loathing his very existence before they had even met. Exy was a believable enough excuse that could placate the hard questions from parents, teachers, and coaches with whom the truth wasn’t an option.

Backliners bruised easily, and no one thought to look too deeply into why Aaron’s equipment elicited more than a perfunctory wince no matter the break between games or practices. The few adults persisting past the blockade he attempted to erect were met with a new volley of excuses: a stick-check gone wrong, stray Exy ball, inconveniently administered check that refreshed old bruises.

For so long, Exy had been one of the only things Aaron had for himself. How could he not love it?

Matt shook his head and bit his lip in the way Aaron had learned he did when waiting for someone to say the punchline of a joke. Aaron held his tongue and stared pointedly out the window, unwilling to waste his words on someone so intent on misinterpreting them.

It wasn’t a joke.

Aaron was used to falling into the category of unknowable entities. He didn't mind it back when he thought it to be temporary. Walking into high school with a doppelganger at his back for the first time and a slew of curious eyes following him in eerie silence had been a novel experience. Aaron had almost been able to convince himself he was some sort of protagonist, that the distant stares were a brief lapse before he was once again folded into the outskirts of their social circles.

A week later, he knew he was wrong. Andrew made sure of that.

If he wore long sleeves or the uncovered skin of his wrists was not visible, even the classmates who occasionally deigned to talk with him devoutly pretended he didn’t exist. In California and Columbia and Palmetto, Aaron was an extension of Andrew even if they had known him first. Andrew liked it better that way; Aaron didn’t.

The Foxes were an interesting dilemma to face after Neil crash-landed through every barrier drawn between them by circumstance and willful discord. Contrary to what a PSU Fox poll that for legal reasons Allison never created would have indicated, Aaron didn’t loathe the rest of the Foxes even without the newfound energy that painted anything Exy-related in vivid multicolor and outlined their faults in glaring red.

Matt was nicer to him than he deserved—than any of them did. With his mind back in Columbia watching Andrew’s latest attempt at isolation play out, Aaron wondered how Matt could even bear to look at any of them. Aaron knew the feeling of the betrayal Andrew had orchestrated—family spinning the wheel of ‘not good enough’ and claiming it was for the best—and of the horrible relief that ensued after. Aaron was going to be a doctor, and Andrew made that possible. That didn’t mean Aaron would thank him.

When Josten had taken up in Andrew’s dorm, Aaron had been the first to suggest he be the one to move out. Surprisingly, Matt helped. While Josten might play mediator when it struck his fancy, Aaron would not have been one to reap the benefits of his actions. Matt held out the olive branch all on his own.

Matt didn’t hate them, so Dan would do it for the both of them. Aaron didn’t like Allison or the feeling of her nails digging into his skin, and Renee was incapable of feeling something as mundane as hatred. Aaron and Andrew were a package deal to all of them even over two years after a first meeting and the ensuing close proximity.

Aaron understood it, in a way. The moment the word ‘twin’ came into play Aaron and Andrew were inextricably linked together, and Aaron would take Andrew’s side over any of theirs no matter the isolation it brought. Aaron was raised to survive solitude; it didn't matter that he longed for a break from the horrendous pattern

Kevin had been the first anomaly. Their proximity had been born of pressure, at first. Kevin was constantly foisted upon Aaron in the dorms or the club or the backseat of Andrew’s car. Aaron hated him because Andrew, somehow, didn’t. Andrew, who turned his nose at any person Aaron associated with, who drew a knife at the briefest whim and sent all of Aaron’s newest attempts at friendship running for the hills, had changed the rules again. Andrew had Kevin, and Aaron could not afford to hate Andrew for it so he drew the sharp edge of his misery on a much easier target.

Kevin was the face he pinned to the dartboard. Kevin, who made his stance firmly on the grounds of eternal disapproval. Kevin, who slotted himself into every place Aaron was meant to fill. Kevin, whose only goal had ever really been Andrew. Before he became a Fox, Aaron watched the Ravens’ games often and accidentally found his way to Kevin’s interviews. He wrote a two on a piece of paper, remembered green eyes glancing over him in disinterest once they had caught the five on his back, and pretended it didn’t sting.

Aaron had thought it inevitable that Kevin would take his brother away. Kevin had Andrew’s attention from the moment he walked in a room—their highschool court, their dorm room, Eden’s Twilight—and made promises that Andrew followed up with a blinding smile. Every moment Kevin was allowed at Andrew’s side and as his confidant felt like a taunt. Kevin was always going to take Andrew away; Aaron just didn’t expect to be there to watch the chasm widen.

Aaron fell into Kevin’s orbit by accident.

Kevin had been curled up on his bed, left hand clenched in front of him, and Andrew had been off to who knows where from which he would eventually come back smelling so heavily of cigarettes that Aaron walked out. Perhaps Aaron had spent a great portion of the day discussing the influence of bedside manner with Katelyn or perhaps he had simply been curious, but some force only hindsight would make him thankful for tugged him away from his textbook and over to Kevin’s side.

Aaron had been with Abby when she looked over Kevin’s hand and had seen the look on his face when the only assurance she could provide him was ‘I have hope’. Kevin looked broken for a moment, but the smile was back in an instant. Right back to the Queen of the Court, to the perfect media darling victim of a skiing accident gone wrong that wasn’t really an accident at all.

The plastic smile was long gone when Aaron circled close enough to catch more of Kevin’s facial features. He looked the same sort of empty that Midnight Nicky tried so valiantly to hide. Aaron had sat on the bed and made up bullshit Exy facts until color came back to his face. It was only when Aaron dared to call Jeremy Knox a disgrace to Exy that Kevin’s eyes sharpened and he began to prod back with a prepared defense whose verbosity could have filled Aaron’s most recent English assignment.

That was the day Aaron learned how hard it was to hate Kevin Day. He tried but suddenly Kevin was everywhere Aaron was even when Andrew had made himself scarce. Staring, watching, and critiquing the way Aaron moved his wrist until Aaron fought back with venomous words or music loud enough to offend Kevin’s delicate sensibilities.

Kevin offered for Aaron to join night practices, once, before Josten was even a blip on the map. He looked so pr—proper and smug that Aaron could do nothing but spit out a harsh refusal.

Looking upon the Foxhole Court with new eyes, Aaron couldn’t believe he had turned down such a momentous opportunity out of what, spite? Exhaustion? Fear that if he looked a little too long into bright green eyes the thoughts in his head would escape beyond the acceptable bounds?

At the end of a freshly opened bottle, his mother had once told him the only thing he did right was be straight. He hated being a disappointment almost as much as he hated Kevin’s lips stretching into that heart-rate-spiking smile. Kevin was dangerous in too many ways to count. He was Andrew’s, he was tied up in chains handcrafted by the same Ravens who had almost and actually gotten Andrew, and he was far too attractive to be a safe place for Aaron to rest his gaze. It was wishful thinking to believe that knowledge would dull the blaze that threatened to consume them both, but Aaron had always been told he was idealistic.

There was one reliable route Aaron could rely on when his eyes strayed a little too long: Kevin was an asshole. He was as Exy-obsessed as he was filterless, and Aaron could draw upon a litany of vicious critiques to prompt a necessary resurgence of anger. If you hold your wrist like that, someone is going to break it. If you check me like you’re pushing through a high school hallway, Aaron, I am going to throw the next ball at your ankles. I thought you were better than this. I can do better with my non-dominant hand in a position I don’t play than you could ever hope to—

It was a tried and true method: add Exy to the equation of Kevin and come out the other end with far more subtlety than Andrew and Josten ever afforded the rest of the seeing world. The lingering and appreciative glance he cast over the freshly cleaned plains of the Foxhole Court told Aaron didn’t think that would work anymore.

An inaudible conversation erupted outside of the empty locker room while Aaron pulled his gear on at record speed. A key was already set into the orange door when Aaron reached it, and he pushed it open with a flourish he felt all the way down to his bones. The inner court was shrouded in too many shadows for Aaron to make out the details, but he closed his eyes and built its majesty up from hazy fragments of memory.

He had not been able to fully appreciate the refurbishments brought by Kevin’s arrival before, but Aaron braced the end of his racquet on the floor and imagined the swirls of bright orange and white arching up the court. The only noise came from a faint discussion out of earshot and his own breathing, but Aaron brought forth memories of the stadium filled to the brim. Crowds stretching up to the nosebleeds, plexiglass the only separation between the outside world and the one Aaron desperately longed to be a part of.

A voice called out from behind him, startling Aaron out of his silent reverie, and the familiar hum of electricity began to bring the court to life. The emergency lights beneath his feet gave an almost fairytale glow to the nearest home benches, but Aaron forced his eyes away toward the main event. Light trailed out from beneath his feet and bathed the court in a warm glow, framing a cinematic masterpiece he had lost appreciation of far too quickly.

The Foxhole Court was beautiful in a way words could never hope to encompass.

A grin stretched across Aaron’s face, real in a way he could barely begin to comprehend, and he started forward before a loud throat clearing caught his attention. He turned slowly, hesitant to put his back to the inner court, and met the eyes of a severely concerned David Wymack.

Aaron had seen a range of expressions on Wymack’s face: post break-in exasperation, Josten is starting shit annoyance, the sort of determination Kevin whispered to Aaron his mother would have loved. Despite the hell the Foxes and the world had put him through, Aaron had never seen such disturbed bewilderment displayed on Wymack’s visage.

Though Wymack was the easiest for Aaron to notice, he wasn’t the only face strewn with confusion. The rest of the Palmetto State Foxes lurked behind him, gazing at Aaron with horror comparable to his own whenever a particularly ill-informed freshman made some remark about his lips being anywhere close to Neil’s.

Aaron frowned as Wymack strode forward and examined him as if he were the type to recklessly hide his injuries the way Josten did. Aaron had borne witness to too many of Abby’s examinations and Andrew’s suspicious stares to risk needlessly exacerbating an injury. He was almost offended.

Footsteps sounded off to the side, and Aaron craned his neck to meet the assessing eyes of his twin. Andrew looked him over as if he were a stranger. “I told you there was something wrong with him.”

“What?” Aaron asked for what felt like the millionth time.

Nicky shot forward and made an exaggerated gesture to the lit-up stands surrounding them. “You looked at the court like Neil did the first time. Like Kevin every time he pushes open that door. We just want to know if you’re feeling okay, Aaron. Don’t look at me like that. Even you have to admit this is kinda weird,” Nicky stopped flailing about for a moment to swivel a finger between Kevin and Aaron. “Did you two switch places or something because I’ve got to say, I am not a fan.”

Kevin was the one to speak up in their defense. “For the last time, Nicky, no. Now if we aren’t going to be productive I would appreciate being able to spend the time your hair-brained assumptions are wasting on my classwork.”

Every eye that was once trained on Aaron shot back to Kevin. Not a single person was capable of looking gleeful when presented with such a contradictory picture: Kevin Day treating Exy as if it were a chore rather than a pleasure. Kevin drew his shoulders in at the attention, trying to appear smaller. It didn’t work.

“Do you need to see Abby?” Wymack asked. His voice was soft enough not to reach the

majority of the Foxes, but Andrew’s eyebrow ticked upwards at the mention.

“I’m fine,” Aaron assured, wincing the moment the words left his mouth. “I don’t understand the issue.”

The moment Kevin nodded his agreement, Andrew walked over to the nearest bench and laid down, uncaring for Wymack’s frustrations. Kevin didn’t say anything. The words that usually belonged to him sat on the tip of Aaron’s tongue until Allison let loose a vaguely horrified laugh.

“I’m calling Abby!” Dan declared, storming off to the locker room to do just that.

As she did so, Aaron trailed the rest of the way down to enter the inner court. It was far more stunning than the images his mind had drawn up. He rested his hand on the plexiglass and walked along the side until he reached the wall equivalent of his preferred starting position and waited for the others to join in. Josten was the only one to follow him, hauling out one of the barrels of Exy balls with him to make the stand-off more than just a staring contest.

The rest of the Foxes didn’t bother to involve themselves, glancing between where Aaron was giving his all and Kevin passed out on one of the benches as if this were some sort of twisted nightmare. In a way, Aaron agreed with them. He would much prefer to be going against a determined Kevin than Josten, but it appeared that wasn’t in the cards.

Kevin sporadically lifted his head to look in their general direction, but the moment he set a foot down to prop himself up his face twisted and he instead exerted his effort on tuning out the rest of the Foxes. Aaron couldn’t watch Kevin as much as he would have liked to. Trying to keep him in sight was a mistake Neil quickly took advantage of, and Aaron wasn’t willing to sacrifice the lightness permeating his every movement to watch Kevin attempt to starfish on a bench not made for such a thing.

Josten was fast but he was also confused. As he tried to force his way toward the open goal, Aaron recited the same critiques Kevin droned on and on about and watched Josten’s lips thin out into something almost resembling a snarl.

When Josten and Kevin collided, it was explosive but Josten was generally placated by the knowledge that every word Kevin spat out at him was done so for the sake of genuine improvement. When Aaron did it, it was a Molotov cocktail of advice and provocation that left Josten’s effort barely diverted to swinging in the hope of catching the rebound of the ball rather than clipping Aaron’s helmet.

Everything Aaron said was factually accurate, approved by Kevin Day himself with an occasional thumbs up or shouted explanation whenever Josten looked a little too close to throwing his precious racquet to the ground. Even as indisposed as he was, Kevin understood that to be sacrilege. Aaron would have been less amused by the thought if Kevin’s additions were not fully in support of Aaron telling Josten how to be a better striker.

Within the span of twenty minutes, the Foxes' death count miraculously did not tick up though it was a close thing. The moment Abby shuffled through the door, lowering the phone pressed to her ear at the same time Wymack did, Aaron was directed to strip out of his gear and join Kevin to be cordoned off in one of the offices like they were ground zero for some new contagion. A face would peer through the window occasionally—usually Nicky’s—only to vanish when Wymack reminded them that they were there to practice, not gawk like tourists at a zoo enclosure.

Aaron didn’t appreciate the comparison or the refusal to let him join in and had been hoping for some support in that regard, but Kevin seemed more resigned than angry.

After a few rudimentary tests, Abby stepped out to ‘give them some privacy’ which was code for ‘contemplating being the Foxes’ nurse for the one hundred and thirty-sixth time’. The Foxes stopped by for a short break, but any suggestions proposed by the team had been met with nothing more than exasperation and mild horror. Wymack had shooed them away before their proposed experiments could edge closer to ethically questionable solutions.

They left and took the hum of conversation with them. There was only so much silence Aaron could tolerate before he snapped, so he tossed torn-up bits of paper at Kevin until he was graced with his full attention. “Do you remember anything unusual we did last night?”

Kevin blinked tiredly at him until Aaron tore off another piece of a discarded envelope. As Aaron raised his hand to throw it, Kevin caught his wrist and glared. “I don’t know, Aaron. It must have been that magical potion we drank labeled ‘personality swap’.”

“No need to be an asshole.” Aaron flipped him off with the hand Kevin had captured.

Kevin glared at him with the promise of violence they both knew he wouldn’t fulfill. “You’re the asshole. If they’re to be believed, this is your asshole-ness.”

“Your mouth, your problem,” Aaron said distractedly as Kevin’s hand slid up from his wrist to link their fingers together.

Kevin’s eyes lit up. “That’s it!”

“We didn’t drink a potion, Kevin. Or get drunk. Magic doesn’t even exist. This is a waste of both of our times when the court is right th—”

“No, your mouth,” Kevin interrupted, holding up his other hand when Aaron frowned. “We kissed, remember?”

Aaron nodded slowly, a smile unfolding as Kevin’s cheeks flushed. “So my mouth is magic now, Day?”

Kevin absentmindedly tapped on Aaron’s palm. Aaron pulled back, unsure if that was Kevin’s way of signaling he wanted to end the brief point of contact, and was met with Kevin’s grabby hands reaching back out to recapture it. “To find that out, I think we need to do it again. For science.”

“For science?” Aaron repeated, skeptical.

Kevin nodded too emphatically to not have ulterior motives. “Don’t you trust yourself? Have a little faith.”

“That’s not how this works,” Aaron stated. “And that's even assuming we had some sort of personality transplant which isn’t only impossible but also—”

“How do you know?” Kevin shot back, encouraged by Aaron’s less-than-frosty reception. “Maybe I’m the one with the magic mout—”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Aaron said, forward in a way he would usually shy away from.

Kevin’s words died off as his eyes glued themselves to Aaron’s lips. Aaron tapped the back of his palm twice, imploring Kevin to take up the challenge. He didn’t have to ask twice.

They came together like they were always meant to be. Kevin braced himself against the desk and Aaron slotted perfectly against him, reaching a hand back to card through his hair. When Aaron’s hand tugged lightly at brown strands upon Kevin’s movement, Kevin pressed him impossibly closer.

The moment Kevin’s hand cupped his chin in an attempt to deepen the kiss, the worst headache Aaron had ever experienced shot through him as if on cue. Aaron pulled away with a start, unsurprised to find Kevin in an equally shaken state. Aaron pressed a hand against his forehead, pain sparking through his body with an involuntary shout for a few agonizing seconds before the feeling vanished as quickly as it had emerged.

Kevin’s eyes fell back to Aaron’s, but before they could pick up where they left off the door burst open. Abby stood in the entryway, wide-eyed and concerned at the source of the sound that had drawn her back.

“We’re normal again,” Aaron said before Abby put her thoughts into words. He stepped away from Kevin before anyone with less respect for privacy could come barging in. “I’m leaving.”

“Practice has barely even started yet!” Kevin protested, a finger ghosting over his lips in what might have been awe before concern fell over his features. “We have the first match of the season in two weeks. Although they might not have the best track record, they have an unusual—”

Aaron made eye contact with Abby. The time he spent familiarizing himself with the aspects of her job she let him in on had made them close enough for her to read the exhaustion behind his eyes. Abby could be trusted to be sympathetic to his cause.

“Kevin,” Abby interrupted, far kinder than Aaron would have bothered with. “I believe it’s best if you both head back to the dorms to sleep off any potential side effects.”

Kevin’s mouth clicked shut. The response wasn’t outright denial, so Aaron prodded Kevin with his elbow and tried for a route that worked more often than it failed him. “Are you really going to risk it this close to a game?”

Kevin glared at him, seeing through it in an instant. “You just want to sleep.”

“You stole my sleep,” Aaron pointed out. “Literally. I think we’re all allowed a daily allowance of bench naps if even <i>you</i> want to indulge in them.”

Kevin’s face twisted into a grimace, and Aaron knew he was remembering everything he had said that wasn’t a declaration of love for his favorite sport. Aaron, having been provided a unique insight into the inner workings of Kevin Day, would have had more sympathy if he wasn’t about to pass out at any moment.

“Fine,” Kevin spat out in a tone that meant the next few days would more than make up for any time they missed for personality swap-related reasons. Unluckily for Aaron, Kevin Day was an asshole. Worse still, Kevin was beautifully passionate when he was acting particularly assholish. Aaron wanted to cave his face in. With his lips.

“I’ll drive you,” Abby suggested, not bothering to hide her grin.

Kevin and Aaron didn’t waste their time arguing about it. Through some overdue miracle, they managed to make it out without being accosted by another Fox. Kevin spent most of the drive staring out the window, focusing on nothing in particular as he ruminated on every word the Foxes would never forget him saying. Aaron met his reflection in his own window and imagined every worst-case scenario his twin and Josten would act out.

They were partners in a shared but distant misery.

Aaron tried to lay against the window, but his head bouncing into the hard windowpane was not an effective or pleasurable option so he soon gave up on that pursuit. He eyed Kevin’s position instead—the several boxes labeled ‘fragile’ taking up the passenger seat having relegated them both to the back—and pressed himself into the crook of his outstretched arm.

“What are you doing?” Kevin stage-whispered.

“I’m going to sleep,” Aaron replied with finality. He closed his eyes and tried his best to ignore the way the tension seeped out of Kevin’s frame the longer Aaron went without moving. Despite his exhausted predicament, the car ride was too short for him to actually drift off, so the moment Abby pulled the car into park Aaron was murmuring a sleepy “Thank you” and pushing open the door.

Kevin followed him upstairs, not saying a word until Aaron went to slam the door in his too-pretty face. “You did well at practice today. The progress you made based on the improved hold I demonstrated was exactly as I predicted. If you continue on—”

“Kevin,” Aaron said, drawing his name out as long as Nicky did when calling for him within the Columbia house. “My muscles hate me right now. And you. I am suffering beyond your comprehension. You got your beauty sleep, someone is going to die if I don’t get mine.”

“While the memories are still fresh is the perfect time to go over the merits of the adjustments you made today,” Kevin stated, voice taking on a serious tone betrayed by the teasing smile he didn’t bother to stifle. “Who are you planning to kill?”

“Neil,” Aaron said immediately. “Wait, no. You. Definitely you.”

“Adorable,” Kevin replied. “Save it for after we discuss the ineffective placement of your feet during turns.”

Aaron moved to pull the door closed, but Kevin stuck his foot further in between. Aaron stepped on his foot. Kevin laughed.

“Fuck you,” Aaron declared without heat.

“Later?” Kevin asked, momentarily taken aback by his own boldness.

Aaron walked further into the room, leaving the door ajar. He stared into the mess the morning had made of his pillows. “Fuck. You.”

“Not later?” Kevin put forth, muffling laughter behind a loose smile.

Aaron threw a pillow at his head; Kevin dodged because of course he did.

He left before Aaron picked up a textbook.

#kevaaron #kevin day #aaron minyard #personality swap au #aftg #all for the game #psu foxes #aftg fic #exy

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lakesbian · 11 months ago

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“You’re a jerk, Lise,” Brian frowned, “Hogging the new girl to yourself.” “You get your morning meetings with her, I want to go shopping, cope,” Lisa stuck out her tongue at Brian.

We parted ways with the boys, Lisa wrapping her arm around my shoulders and going on about what she wanted to get. Her enthusiasm was catching, and I found myself smiling.

okay see. lisa's reason for acting all enthusiastic about hanging out with taylor & putting her arm around taylor's shoulders and grabbing her by the wrist and being all yaaaay we're going shopping!! is very clear--she wants taylor to be thinking less about who the other murderer is/who their boss is and more about what a Cool Happy Fun Time With Friends this little excursion is. but brian has no reason to go "aw man....youre hogging taylor..." beyond meeting a girl whos also really really autistically thorough about planning crime and immediately going ohhh i like her. thats all genuine. taylor's attempt at telling herself she's Infiltrating not going to last three seconds in the room full of people who are so excited to hang out with her that they start bickering with each other about getting taylor time. clenching fist on the ground it is Not True the fantasy lisa wants to sell her is Not Real everyone here has Problems chasing them and their stability is not sustainable but wouldnt it be nice if it was real

#wormtime 2 #wormtime 2 arc 4 #worm spoilers

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acupofqueercoffee · 2 years ago

Text

“So deep in my heart that you’re really a part of me”

Lady Lesso x Ever Reader

cw : soulmate au // blood and injury // angst and hurt comfort // fluff // bffs lesso x dovey // age gap // older woman x younger woman

wc : 5500 ish

ao3 — https://archiveofourown.org/works/42983871

I love the fact that we are all collectively simping for Lady Lesso. Everywhere I go, I see her. Also, is it just me or does it make you incredibly happy when someone you’ve followed for some other women you love began posting contents of this new woman that you’ve just fallen for? No? Just me? Ok.

Fyi, the title is from Ben L’Oncle Soul version of Frank Sinatra’s I’ve got you under my skin

You have always deemed your parents the quintessence of the vows “in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health”.

There has been a period of time where your jovially energetic mother has peculiarly lost her enthusiasm.

One of the first few signs is exhaustion. The woman who used to be on her feet all day with gusto, executing a whirlwind of tasks about the house, would become short of breath with only a handful of movements.

Then, comes heart palpitations, which eventually lead her to collapse in bed. When it happens, your father has been there for her, taking the houseworks upon himself on top of his own workload. Along with you, your father would take your mother to see a physician before he would, then, have to continue on to his job.

He has to burn the candle at both ends, juggling between his work and taking care of his wife. You help as much as you can, but still, bigger responsibilities fall on your father’s shoulders. Tirelessly, he works day in and day out, never complaining one bit.

The silver lining to it all is that your mother’s case is not so much a decline in health than an ailment, so after a few days of taking prescribed medicines coupled with bed rest, the jovially energetic woman makes her spirited return.

As it so happens, your father comes home one day with a flu, and despite exercising social distancing amongst the three of you, the whole family unfortunately falls prey to the disease.

Whilst recovering however, in the death of one night, the town officials appear on your doorstep, taking your father away on the grounds that he has to be interrogated for an alleged crime.

In the morning, he does not return home. Nor does he within the next day. Eventually, a day melts into two, three. Then, days grow into a week. A week becomes weeks.

Your mother has not been sitting idly by during all that time; she contacts her husband’s friends, does everything within her capability to get even a trace of his news.

Your father is a real people person. If there is one thing he has in abundance, it is friends, and they are good friends, offering to help in any way they can, and indeed, consistently helping your mother in pursuing news of your father’s whereabouts.

The painstaking efforts have had no luck so far, until after having no traces whatsoever of him for a whole month, you and your mother are finally informed of the news that he will be put on trial.

As it turns out, your father has been unfairly accused of a crime that he has not committed, and subsequently detained for it.

You and your mother have gone to meet him a couple of times already, and the both of you are pleased and relieved to find that he is doing well, cheeks getting chubbier and appearing as radiant as ever.

You find the whole ordeal but a testament to their unyielding love for each other.

There have been inevitable arguments between the two of them. But, it is, you suppose, what makes their connection, all the more admirable. Getting to grips with disagreements and surmounting obstacles hand in hand, they nurture their imperfectly perfect tale with conflicts and reconciliations, cries and apologies, curses and sweet nothings.

“After all, what is love without a little pain?”

Your mother has said to you one evening, sitting on the porch and knitting a hat for her dearest husband.

“Your father, he is my one true. People usually say that you will see it. But, my darling girl, mama has to disagree. When you find them, you will feel it.” Her palm rests on your chest. She smiles, drops her voice to a whisper as if what she is about to say is confidential. “In here.”

And indeed, feel you do as soon as your eyes behold her.

Funnily enough, the fated encounter comes as a by product of chasing after your cat, Eclipse for she has midnight sky for fur. After running after her all over the Great Lawn like a headless chicken, you find her sitting curiously at the feet of someone.

Up until this point, you have been in a single-minded pursuit of your cat that everything else has been a blur. Yet, by the time you stand up after gathering your beloved furball in your arms, you are enthralled by the vision before you, so enthralled in fact that you do not realise the proximity of your bodies.

How curious, you muse, that you are bombarded with a queer indecipherable feeling, as if a piece of you, that you do not realise has been missing, has returned to you at long last.

“Get that repulsive thing away from me.”

A voice, rich and smokey, jostles you out of your musings, a tip of a cane landing atop your chest to push you away.

Her lips are pulled tight into a scowl, you notice, and the only thought whirling around your empty head is that this woman is absofuckinglutely captivating, very much the epitome of handsome and gorgeous combined.

And then, before you can formulate a response, she is gone, dark stilettos drumming against the floor with every elegant footfalls of those impressively long legs.

Only then do you see it, a red silky thread coiled around her pinky, stretching across the distance between the two of you, then twining itself round yours.

And just like that, you have found your one true.

────────────────────

Finally being made aware that the fairytales you have grown up loving after all this time, are real does not make you as happy as it is supposed to.

Instead, you are busy envying the nevers who get to interact with the dean of the school for evil on a daily basis, and it does not help either that the woman seems to be deliberately avoiding you like you are the very plague.

Every time she sees so much as a shadow of you, she flees the room. When you try approaching her in front of other people, she disregards your existence altogether.

Fed up to the back teeth with her unreasonable behaviour, you foolishly decide the best course of action would be to confront her, and thus, you find yourself standing in the middle of her study one afternoon.

“Do you plan on keep ignoring me, Lady Lesso?”

“Who says you could come as you please into my study?”

“Why do you keep turning a blind eye to me?”

“Riddle me this ever, what obligation have I to take notice of you?”

Her aloofness stings as well as irritates you, and exasperated, you thrust your arm out, as if it isn’t the elephant in the room.

“Isn’t this reason enough?”

“It is but a worthless string.”

“It’s a string that ties us together. Does it mean absolutely nothing to you?”

A nonchalant hum.

A beat. A painful throb of your heart.

“Lady Lesso, why do you dislike me so?”

“Now, don’t be presumptuous, little girl. Aside from disinterest, I harbour not an ounce of feeling towards you. Your significance to me is as existential to me as my love for cats.”

“But I thought you hated Eclipse?”

“Exactly.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

“How mean of you.”

“I’m the dean of the school for evil. Does that suggest anything to you?”

“And I am your soulmate. Does that suggest anything to you?”

“Soulmate this. Soulmate that. How utterly risible! It is sheer folly that leads you to believe that two literal strangers can magically, readily feel something deep and profound for each other. I don’t give a flying fuck who my soulmate is. Your existence matters not to me. In fact, it in itself is a downright insult to my face. An ever, a student and a reader at that? I simply do not care.”

Tears of frustration have been pooling in your eyes, but those that finally cascade down your cheeks are tears of dejection.

“Ever since you’ve appeared in front of me, you’ve been nothing but a thorn in my flesh. So, yes, it does suggest to me that you are a pesky little vermin.”

“All it takes is a flick of my finger,-” Suddenly, the tip of her forefinger starts glowing, and before you know it, you watch, crestfallen, as the little red thread is instantly reduced to dust. “-and there, this “our tie” that you’re so annoyingly fixated on is no more. Now, leave me alone. I certainly have far more important things to attend to than deal with this tomfoolery.”

You return to your dormitory a snivelling mess.

You have half a mind to believe that it is heartbreak that has you descending into an awful illness come morning.

────────────────────

After you have run out of her study, Leonora has been left transfixed by the staggering pain that has marred your features, unable to do anything productive for the rest of the evening.

She has thought that without those annoyingly captivating eyes perusing her every move, her heart would not feel as jittery. She has been certain that she would get satisfaction out of her little display of cruelty, and she has, if only for a while, but now, her mind is relentlessly plagued by the images of you. As soon as she has hit you with those words, it is like a dam has been broken behind those big wounded eyes.

It happens three days ago, and she has not seen you ever since. As much as she loathes to admit it, lately, all she can think of is you. In classrooms amidst teaching, at night as she lies awake in bed, it is always your agonised little face sullied with tears that makes a repeated appearance.

You have cried as if physically harmed.

She almost feels bad then, and now, she does.

Regret always comes too late, does it not?

“Why, pray tell, is the dean of the school for evil skulking about the corridors of the school for good?”

She doe not even realise that she has mindlessly wandered off to your school until a sickeningly sweet voice reaches her ears.

Slowly, she swivels on her heels, signature cane in one hand, an equally sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her face.

Her lips have just moved to utter something when she is rudely interrupted by an ever.

“Lady Dovey, I’ve searched the whole perimeter but there’ve been no signs of her.”

It is none of her concern and yet, oddly, she is inclined to ask. “No signs of who?”

And, to her dismay, it is your name that falls out of the other dean’s lips.

After impatiently listening to the detailed recount of your last known whereabouts, subsequently learning that you have been sick in bed, she storms out of the school for good, intent on conducting a surreptitious search of her own.

On her way back to her school, coincidentally, she happens upon a group of nevers. She sees them talking animatedly and hears them all collectively laughing over the story of hexing an ever.

Neither is it strange nor wrong to have nevers and evers going against each other’s throats, but there is something particularly strange about this conversation that is rubbing her up the wrong way.

Soon, she understands why, and simultaneously, her anger is justified once they mention your name.

────────────────────

Your wounds sting, your body aches and your head throbs, contrapuntal with the relentless pounding of your haywire heart. Around you, the naked branches creak, crows cackle, stymphs squeal and various other inhabitants of the forest sneer.

Emitting a cacophony of condescending noises, the woods itself seems to be making a mockery of your misery. Even the moon, in her full golden glory, appears to be looking down on your sorry state from her majestic onyx throne.

Should you were within the comfort of your dormitory, the occasional zephyr would have been a soothing, charming embrace, but currently as you are with nothing more than a flimsy silk on your frame, it is anything but charming.

You are not sure whether it is the spiricks’ venomous bites finally rearing their ugly heads or the weather being particularly unforgiving tonight as the chilliness seeps into your bones, and seems to swell from deep within. In the end, you conclude that it must be a combination of both taking a toll on you, for there is a profound aching agony blooming from beneath the area where their fangs have sunk into your flesh. It does not help either that some of the deeper cuts you have sustained continue to ooze blood, liquid crimson making a macabre artwork of the blank canvas that is your nightdress.

Unconsciousness sounds like a rather enticing idea right about now, but the wicked woodland does not appear too keen on giving you even a semblance of reprieve. No sooner have you entertained the thought than come the rustling noises from the inky thickets adjacent the tree under which you are taking sanctuary.

Scrambling to your feet is instantly proved a careless mistake when, under the influence of a woozy mind and on your wobbly legs that appear to have suddenly lost their purpose, you topple over. Along with a pained little grunt, you lean against the thick mossy trunk, bracing yourself for what you believe to be the imminent danger.

However, all the fear and trepidation that have taken hostage of your mind ebb away once an impeccably dressed woman enters your vision. Her arrestingly gorgeous red curls backdropped by the golden glow of the moon serves as a halo befitting a dark goddess.

If you didn’t know any better, you might have found it puzzling: the fact that her presence alone has the effect of a calming salve on your mayhem of a mind. It swaddles your whole body in an invisible cloak, soothing stings and healing wounds, suffusing warmth and supplying solace.

All this time, your subconscious mind has been desperately craving her, you realise with a start at the lack of surprise and abundance of relief upon seeing her. During the last few days, it has gone as far as daring to harbour the flimsiest of hopes that she will find you while the more logical part of your mind keeps reminding you that she has made it abundantly clear that she wants nothing, absolutely nothing in fact, to do with you. Your last interaction itself is proof enough of that claim, and your wishful thinking regardless of what she has said to your face, is certainly proof enough of your, as she likes to put it, folly.

Then, as a gust of wind plucks sickly leaves out of fragile branches, forcing you to shake on your feet in a similar fashion, a coat suddenly lands on your shoulders, shielding your trembling frame from the assault of the freezing air.

The residual heat from her body seeps into your skin. The familiar fragrance of the dean, dark, rich and dangerous with wonderful woodsy notes, leaves a trail of blood red roses in its wake. Your arms lock themselves around your body, savouring each whiff and soaking every droplet. The combined senses warm you to the core.

On the other hand, you muse with bittersweet fondness that perchance, this is as close to being cocooned in her arms as you will ever come. The sad reality instantly drenches you in thick melancholy.

When your eyes meet the dean’s, dewy though they are with unshed tears, they lack the shine of which she has always been rather fond, she has now just realised, and the realisation hits her like a ton of bricks.

Drowning in your wounded eyes while being well aware that she is unequivocally the culprit, it is well-nigh torture for her not to engulf your dainty frame in her arms. The apparent fragility of its current state is the only reason behind her hesitation to do so.

However, when you stagger on your feet like a newborn fawn, as if possessing a mind of their own, her hands move to hold you on your delicate waist. Immediately, your fingers, lovely and lithe, find home on her forearms, maintaining a determined grip. If she has oh so foolishly thought that this little electrifying contact is going to be the death of her, imagine her absolute bewilderment once your forehead falls onto her chest, dainty digits digging into the fabric of her waistcoat.

An aggressive exhale through her nose is a poor attempt to prevent herself from gasping audibly, a not so flawless facade masking her crumbling resolve.

A muffled little whimper that subsequently drizzles out of your lips is as much a candy to her ears as it is toxin to her mind.

The string that ties the two of you together is now but a flickering red. This usually is a sign of one’s soulmate being in a potentially life threatening condition. She has said such bitter, hatful words to your lovely little face, intentionally injected poison into your veins, simultaneously making you believe that you are absolutely unwanted by the one true who is meant only for you.

Instead of making her feel liberated as she has stubbornly believed, it has weighted heavily on her heart ever since those words, acidic in nature, have left her nefarious lips, and now throbs a pang of guilt, unforgiving and relentless, as your eyes, as shimmery as a moon reflected in a pond, seek her face once more.

“Y- you came.”

Your voice is worryingly feeble, breath ragged, tapering to a choked sob, crumbling into sporadic wheezes.

“Shhh, I’ve got you now.”

A gentle thumb traces a tear as it trickles down your cheek, plucking the blossoming droplets out of your lashes before they burgeon and burst.

A breath catches in her throat when you nuzzle your peachy soft cheek into her palm like a sweet, affectionate kitten.

However, the swaying of your body coupled with the crimson cuts on your once faultless skin reminds her once more of the alarming state you are in.

Hooking an arm under your knees and twining the other round your back, you are effortlessly lifted into her arms, cradled close to her chest. Cheek pressed against her bosom, one of your arms wind up around her elegant neck while your fingers seize her collar in a white-knuckled grip, as if letting her go would colour you crazed.

“Let’s get you out of this godforsaken woods.”

Her voice is the last thing you hear before consciousness slips into oblivion, with the last thing on your mind being if it meant being alone with her, then you wouldn’t mind staying trapped inside the endless woods even if indefinitely. Deem you selfish or even mad for thinking so but as long as you get to be in the receiving end of her concern, you consider a couple of nasty wounds but a small price to pay.

────────────────────

With a broken little darling bird tightly secured in her arms, the dean of the school for evil makes a hasty return.

No sooner has she taken a step into the school grounds than out strolls the dean of the school for good, frazzled and clearly vexed.

“Where in the great lawn have you-” Upon seeing not one but two people, one of which has been declared missing for the past couple of days, she cuts herself off with a gasp, “Where did you find her?” , inching closer to examine the queer little bundle in her evil counterpart’s arms.

When her queries aren’t answered, she knows better than to press, understanding immediately that there is more to it than meets the eyes. Even when she notices that they are not heading towards the school on the right, but the left, piqued though her curiosity is, she asks no questions until someone else does it for her.

“The school for good is this way. Where are you taking her?”

She recalls this lad as a prince endeavouring fruitless attempts at wooing you. Sighing internally, she muses, distracted by her recollections, Just how clueless can he get! You are clearly not interested.

“She’s been lost for days. She must be terribly malnourished, to say nothing of the state she’s in. We need to get her immediate medical attention.”

She wants to feel sorry for her student when he moves to arrogantly pry you out of firmly fixed arms, but she is more intrigued by her friend’s reaction to pay him any mind.

“Touch her if you dare and bid your hands farewell.”

One glance at the red head is enough for Clarissa Dovey to see her true emotions. On the front, her friend’s mien betrays nothing, quintessence of cool and collected. It may work in fooling other people but Clarissa Dovey is not just other people. They go way back and, albeit unintentionally, she has mastered the art of fathoming this intricacy of a person.

She sees it all in those foxy eyes; behind their frosty aloofness lies a brewing storm of anger, desperation and anxiety, sprinkled with just a touch of possessiveness.

“I must tend to her myself. I can’t even for a fraction of a second let her out of my sight.”

Clarissa Dovey knows that the declaration is directed at her, an almost imperceptible crack in her facade as her voice wavers, but she has noticed it all the same.

And, as she watches her friend swiftly disappear into the school for evil with one of her ever students cradled close to her chest, “Don’t.” , she shakes her head at the puzzled lad whose eyes seem to be overflowing with incredulity. “Let them be.”

She thinks she has deciphered the gist of her friend’s odd behaviour.

────────────────────

With every bit of skin that is revealed to Leonora’s intense scrutiny, too, comes a new wound to add to the gradually increasing collection.

The bite on the left side of your chest is arguably the most dreadful of them all. She has magically extracted as much venom from your system as she can manage, being extra careful to instantly heal most of the superficial cuts closed while giving ample attention to the more serious injuries that necessitate organic healing.

Gingerly, she cleans the wounds, stitches them extremely cautiously if stitches are warranted. Once she is satisfied with her work, she dresses them with pristine white linens, and you, in one of her dress shirts.

The sight of you in nothing but her white shirt is a rather dangerous vision, she decides as she tucks you under the covers, and flees the room under the guise of putting the soiled linens away. The pull between the two of you has suddenly become overwhelmingly powerful that she fears it will stoke the flame within her lest she puts some distance.

As long as you are under the same roof as her, she will be fine, she reasons.

“How is she?”

The voice that soon greets her is her friend’s.

“Still unconscious but thankfully, out of the woods. Venom has been extracted and I’ve dressed her wounds. Well, some of it at least.”

The blonde has joined her by her side as she rummages in her potions cabinet for something equivalent of multivitamin supplements to give you. So, she stops, turns to face her best friend, her only confidante.

“Dovey, I said some hateful things to her. I treated her quite horribly. I don’t know if she’s ever going to forgive me for it.”

Resuming her search, she utters her terrible confession.

“It was I who pushed her away, and yet, being away from her, truly away from her, it was awfully unbearable, as if, as if a piece of my heart is being ripped away.“

A hand lands on her shoulder.

“That’s even more reason for you to make it up to her. She needs you as much as you need her.”

The eyes that greet her upon making contact are kind, gentle, and full of wisdom, not anything near the usual Dovey who revels in throwing merciless quips at her with a fiery passion. There however is a hint of reproach in her voice as she adds, eyes hardening for just a fraction.

“Trying to deny the connection will only continue to hurt the both of you. If you are clever enough to understand the importance of it, you would do well to fix your mistakes.”

It is during times like these that she is infinitely grateful for having a friend like Dovey. More often than not, they will be seen partaking in almost ruthlessly aggressive banter, making them come across as nemeses who despise one another to those around them, but Dovey, to Lesso, is a port in the storm: someone, no the only one she can turn to.

Suddenly, following her friend’s much needed advice, even being under the same roof becomes painfully insufferable. Her heart demands that she returns to your side, and thus, after shocking Dovey with a rare moment of expressing gratitude, grabbing the bottle in hand, she walks briskly back towards her chamber.

────────────────────

By the time you wake up, there significantly is less soreness overall. Cocooned in satiny softness, you feel infinitely better, up until the last couple of hours gain on your foggy mind. It is too beautiful of a memory to be real, and you wonder if you have just made it all up when a delightful whiff of a familiar fragrance teases your nose.

Tracing the scent leads you to the conclusion that not only are you in the dean’s chamber, you are buried under her feather-soft duvet, sinking into her pillowy bed. Upon peeling the satin sheet off your body, you find yourself in Lady Lesso’s pristine white shirt.

Your cheeks are painted sunset pink, jolly little hummingbird causing mayhem inside its bony cage, but then, rears the ugly head of reality, crushing the delicate buds of hope beneath its foul boots.

You are inside her room, enveloped in her scent, and surrounded by her things, and yet, it is such a depressing disappointment that the woman herself is nowhere to be found.

She has been adamant that she doesn’t wanted you then.

What are the chances that she will want you now?

Your tie has meant nothing to her after all. Is there even any reason for you to keep pestering her now that what little connection you have to her is no more, due to her own doing no less.

With thoughts running rampant, your bare feet have just barely touched the fluffy carpet when the click-clack of heels notify you of her impending arrival.

Panicked and emotionally unprepared to force back into the bitter reality, you dive back under the covers, pretending as though sleep has yet to release you from its grip.

There is silence for a few minutes.

And then, “If you’re awake, let’s get some elixir in you. It’ll help you heal better.”

You comply, peeking one eye open first before moving to sit on the bed.

Trying your damndest not to unabashedly stare at her is proven to be a rather challenging affair as your eyes are keep being drawn to her tantalisingly dishevelled state. Her sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, displaying her surprisingly strong arms; you can see her veins, emerald green and amethyst purple, under her skin like milky porcelain.

Then, a bottle is handed to you. Your eyes are busy admiring her beautifully long fingers with their stylishly painted nails, sharp as talons, to give any mind to the peculiar looking colour and consistency of the contents of the bottle.

When it comes to most potions, the first droplet is always the most unpleasant, and then, you somehow get used to the taste, and watery as they usually are, the rest of the liquid goes easily in. However, with this one, the taste is unrivalled, in that it does not go down easily, the thick consistency of the liquid making it terribly unpleasant for you to swallow.

You almost end up giving up halfway, and you certainly would have if it wasn’t for her hand holding your jaw, fingers caressing your cheek, while the other is clasped over yours around the bottle, urging you on.

The roundness of the bottle is soon replaced with the thinness of the glass when a glass of water is put in your hand.

“Good girl.”

The lowly husked praise has come out of the blue that you very nearly choke to death amidst mouthfuls of water.

Silence reigns for some time afterwards before it is dethroned once more by her voice, “If you would give me another chance,” soothingly tender and conveying genuine repentance. “I would like to give this, us a proper chance.”

The sincerity of her words stuns you for a moment.

“Would you?”

You choose your words carefully. She has finally warmed up to the idea of you and her, and you do not wish to scare her away.

Still, you must state what you must.

“I won’t lie and say that you didn’t hurt me, Lady Lesso because you did, possibly even more than you’ve intended.”

At this, to your genuine shock, she wilts, the prim and proper Lady Lesso with her shoulders slumped and brows furrowed.

“I took you for granted. Of course, you would want nothing to do with me anymore. I understand. If I were you, I’d hate me, too.”

“Regrettably, even if I want to hate you, I am unable to. Not that I want to in the first place.”

Your hand finds hers on her lap, gingerly brushing a thumb against her warm skin, and when she stares intently at it, stupefied and breath caught in her slender throat, you smile to yourself.

“As foolish as it sounds, I have wanted nothing but you ever since you’ve entered my vision. I think you would have enamoured me all the same even without this string binding us together.”

“So, yes. Yes, I would.”

Her eyes are a mesmerising green as they seek yours. Now it is her doing what she does best, exercising the art of taking one’s breath away.

“No darling,-” A shadow of a smile makes its breathtaking appearance on her lovely lips. “-not only have I been a fool but I have also been a coward. It is an age-old belief that villains are never granted a happily ever after, and I-” Her hand engulfs yours, mirroring your ministrations from earlier. “-I resorted to subjecting you to my wrath before, as my irrational fear had made a foolish presumption, you would, one day, make a fool out of me. Ironically, I ended up making a fool of myself.”

Emboldened by the revelation, you intertwine your fingers with hers. “I know that our case is unique, possibly even unheard of from what I’ve gathered thus far, but Lady Lesso-” Squeezing her hand reassuringly, you make your unfaltering confession. “-even while being well aware that our path will not always be all sunshine and rainbows, I will unequivocally choose to walk the arduous path as long as I can have you.”

A beat.

Your heart thrums anxiously beneath your ribcage.

Two.

Have you divulged too much?

Three.

And then, she cracks the most fabulous smile, “Be careful darling. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

The warm, pulsating sound of it is the loveliest melody to your ears.

The tip of your ears burning, you move to hide from her mischievous gaze, but as if reading your mind, her fingers slide along your jaw, gingerly running a thumb across your raspberry suffused cheek.

“Verily, you have the purest heart.”

She muses more to herself than talk to you, only after some time, aiming utterances to you.

“Very well then, we have all the time in the world to tackle our situation. Now, rest, for it is your utmost priority. These past few days have been terribly unkind to you after all.”

“Mmhm, but Lady Lesso?”

“Yes?”

“I thought you had severed our ties. Why is it still intact?”

“Because I didn’t.”

“It was only a mirage then?”

“Yes.”

“And, Lady Lesso?”

“Yes?”

“Stay with me?” You ask meekly, then add. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. I couldn’t wish for anything less.”

Your belly butterflies rejoice when after tucking you back into her bed, “Sleep tight, my sweet little songbird.” , you feel the warm press of her lips on yours. It is but a fleeting touch. But, when they descend upon your cheek next, they linger, brushing against your skin in the softest, most delicate caress.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

That night, you fall asleep with the goofiest of smiles on your face.

Tied around your pinkies, and cascading into a stream amongst the creamy sheets, the string of fate that binds your souls together burns the brightest red.

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