#why did I discover their full names right now????

[whisperofwonder]

We Don't Need Memories

Miya Atsumu x reader - 1k words

I've had a vision of this in my head for a while. I'm not sure it came out like I wanted, but I'm sharing anyway!

Atsumu has been too quiet in the bedroom for a suspiciously long time. He could be folding laundry or finally organizing his dresser drawers, but something tells you that's not the case. You haven't seen him do either in the month and a half you've been living together. With a sigh, you set your laptop aside and get up to investigate.

In the bedroom, Atsumu's sitting cross-legged on the floor. When he hears you creak open the door, his gaze snaps to you, frozen with one hand inside a familiar shoe box - one that you'd tucked in the back corner of the closet. Some of its contents are already spread out on the floor. So - he's discovered your secret.

"Hi," You say in a small voice, feeling a little bit guilty, even though you have no real reason to be.

"This is yours?" He asks, watching you as you sink down next to him. It's a silly non-question. Who else's would it be?

"Yeah," You admit as you reach for a magazine clipping on the floor. The newest pieces had been on top, so this is from only a few weeks ago, when the Black Jackals had been featured in an article. Under that is the newest team profile booklet, and a newspaper cover page from the Olympics last summer.

"You saved all this?" Atsumu asks, paging slowly through the pamphlet you'd picked up at his first ever Black Jackals game.

"I did," You nod, watching him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction. He's never been one for sentimentality, and you're afraid he'll think all of this is stupid. You've been saving things for quite a while now, because unlike him, sometimes you like to look back at where he's been, see how far he's come. Lately, you've even been thinking, maybe, if it comes to it, your future kids might like to see some of it too.

"How far back does this go?" He asks, digging through until he pulls out a cutout from your high school newspaper, featuring the team right before nationals in his second year. "Ya kept this from high school?" He asks in disbelief, looking intently at the faded photo of the old Inarizaki team. Finally, he looks up at you. "Why?"

You remember being 16, picking out your new boyfriend among his teammates on the front page of the school paper, so handsome in his uniform. You're not quite sure, even now, what had compelled you to actually cut it out and save it, but you're glad that you did. It had lived in the front cover of one of your notebooks for a while, until a few new clippings joined it. You'd finally converted to the shoe box after he joined the Jackals, and you'd cut out an article about him joining the team.

Since then, you've added advertisements he's done, glossy pamphlets from special games he's played in, and every article you've come across that so much as mentions his name. There's a whole chunk of Olympics memorabilia that you'd rubber banded together. Suffice to say, the humble box has grown pretty full over the years.

You shrug before answering his question. "Because I'm proud of you." It's the simplest answer, and it also happens to be the truth. You look down at the banner in the old article. "And maybe you don't need memories, but I like having them."

"Course yer proud of me," He says roughly, gingerly setting the old article back in the box. "Look at all this stuff I did." He pats the top of the pile.

"You don't think it's weird?" You finally ask with a quiet laugh.

"Nah," He says nonchalantly. "If ya wanna hang onto all this stuff, I don't care." He looks back down into the shoe box, perhaps blinking a little more quickly than usual.

"Okay then," You say, matching his tone. Something else in the box catches his eye, and he reaches for it. The two of you spend the next half hour paging through everything.

A few days later, after you've cleared the dinner dishes off the table, he hands you a thick envelope. You peek inside, and see that it's mostly photos. You look at him with a frown.

"I found some more stuff. For the box." He clears his throat. "I thought this stuff belonged in there, too."

"Oh," You carefully pull the bundle out of the envelope, surprised. The photos are glossy without a single fingerprint, almost as though he'd just had them printed. The first one is from after nationals in your third year, and features the two of you with matching wide smiles. You remember the feel of his sweat-slicked cheek pressed against yours. You smile looking down at your past selves. You look so young.

Most of the photos are similar. It's you and him, smiling together before or after his biggest matches. There's even one of you, wearing his Jackal's jersey, cheering in the stands. You have no idea when it was even taken.

Along with the photos, you're surprised to see some familiar scraps of paper. They say things like "I'm proud of you" or "I love you", decorated with cartoony hearts. There are even a few with goofy volleyball doodles you'd made. You've been hiding these silly little notes in his suitcase every time he travels, but you never dreamed he'd save them.

"Tsumu," You look up at him, his name the only word you can form. His expression is almost unbearably fond.

"Ya don't have anything like this in there." He shrugs. "Felt like it was missing something important."

"I didn't know you kept any of this," You say softly, spreading it out on the table in front of you.

He scoffs. "Yer not the only one who can save stuff." Abruptly, he pulls in close, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on top of your head. "I love you," He murmurs into your hair.

You smile into his chest. "I love you too."

[da-janela-lateral]

@marbleboa There are them! Tsuchiya and Mukai have been my favorite Scars since their first apparition and it's great to have an excuse to finally draw this idea I had some time ago!

The reason I like them is pretty silly, though, as when I watched the anime for the first time I just saw a woman being pissed off because someone broke a girl's dolls and I went "oh, so they're like me and my little sister : )"

I wonder what these two were up to after the definitive end of Claw...

[nexus-nebulae]

oh my god. that one "oc" we wrote who had DID that we came up with before our syscovery. that was not an oc. oh my god cody and blake why did you take five years to make yourselves known to us-

[agreeewrites]

i would love to see 1000 secrets with barty crouch or regulus 😏

combining this with another reg request!! I have one coming for Barty soon too dw 🫶

1000 secret kisses | R.B.

cw: MDNI 18+, smut mentioned, secret relationships, fwb, drinkin

masterlist

Alright, Barty. Truth, dare, or shot,” Dorcas said, still coughing after the gulp of firewhisky she just took.

“Truth,” Barty replied.

“What's your most controversial opinion about someone in the group?” Dorcas challenged, and everyone ooooh’d.

Barty took a contemplative drag of his joint, then—“I would bet my left nut that Regulus is a virgin,” Barty said through a cloud of smoke.

“No way, look at him!” Pandora argued. “He fucks, guarantee it.”

The groups heads swiveled to Regulus, who was reclined lazily in arm chair, knees spread, a cigarette dangling from his fingertips. He looked supremely fuckable to you, like he always did.

That's why you've been secret friends with benefits for most of the school year.

You and Regulus were an unlikely pair; Reg, a certified grouch with a distaste for socializing, and you, a gifted student and natural flirt. But you found him fascinating, deeply intelligent and perceptive, with an artistic heart, even if he preferred not to show it. And he found you endearing, infectious in your enthusiasm.

You'd kissed him after a drunken night in Hogsmeade, and he'd sought you out the following day in the library. Now, you snuck away every chance you got, stealing secret moments around every corner, in every classroom, praying your friends never discovered the truth, lest you never hear the end of it.

This was just for the two of you, and you preferred it that way.

“I'm not saying he isn't sexy!” Barty argued. “I'm saying he couldn't be bothered to fuck someone, too busy reading poetry and glaring.”

“And you expect me to, what? Fuck everything with legs like you, Junior?” Regulus bit back.

“No, but like—I’ve never even seen you glance at someone,” Evan chimed in. “You've never talked about fancying someone, or gotten flustered.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

“Nothing shakes him, and he'd never tell you half-wits if he fancied someone because you can't keep your mouths shut,” Xeno laughed.

“It's not like it's anyone's business anyways,” you added, stealing the joint from Barty and taking a puff. “It's his business who he does, or doesn't, fuck.”

“Oh, come off it. He hasn't even had a crush on you, and we've all had a crush on you,” Barty said.

You nearly choked on your hit. “You're full of shit, Junior.”

“It's true! We talked about it the other day!”

You risked a glance at Regulus while you fanned the smoke from around your face, and found him glaring down at his lap, his expression was calm, but you'd long ago learned to judge his true feelings by his pale eyes. And right now, the hostility in them could raze the castle.

That must have been the day he abruptly dragged you from your dorm and into an empty classroom. He toyed with you until you cried, begging him to get you off. And when he finally let you ride him, you weren't allowed to come until you told him exactly who you belonged to. Making you spell out his entire name, letter by letter, thrust by thrust.

Regulus Arcturus Black.

Your pussy shivered just thinking about it.

“Can we get on with the game, please?” Pandora huffed. “It's y/n’s turn.”

Barry grinned over at you, and you groaned. Why on Salazar's shitty earth did you think it was a good idea to sit next to him?

“Truth, dare, or shot, my darling?” Barty asked, his voice a seductive purr.

You really didn't want to take a shot of that lukewarm swill, and you had a hunch of what Barty's question would be: do you fancy any of us? Leaving you with one option.

“Dare.”

Barty’s eyes lit up, and he rubbed his hands together like a supervillain. “You've made a grave error, my dearest y/n.”

“Don't be an ass, Crouch. Play fair,” Regulus warned, the edge of his voice sharper than was probably necessary.

“Oh, you'll like this Reggie, don't worry.” Barty presented his palms to you, like he was offering a gift. “Treasure, I dare you to make Regulus blush.”

“That's not fair!” Pandora argued. “How is she supposed to do that?”

“By any means necessary.” Barty grinned.

You looked at Regulus, who was already looking at you. “I don't want to cross any lines—”

“And when she fails?” Regulus asked, a hint of a smirk on his pretty mouth. Baiting you.

“Then she takes two shots,” Barty wagered.

You looked back and forth between them, all eyes on you. “Deal,” you said, pushing to your feet.

Regulus' eyes widened a fraction, like he didn't expect you to actually go for it, but he vastly underestimated your pettiness. And you would love nothing more than to be the thing that made Regulus finally crack in front of his friends. A tiny consultation for months of keeping secrets.

You sashayed over to him, ignoring the whistles and shouts from your friends, focused entirely on Regulus' smug face. His eyes roamed over you, lingering at the edge of your skirt, the sway of your hips, and you caught the unmistakable sign of his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and his arrogant expression faltered.

Already, you were making him sweat.

You knew none of your regular tricks would work on him, he was impervious to flirting, but you had an ace up your sleeve.

Carefully, you perched on the arm of his chair, being mindful to not actually touch him, knowing it would bother him to have you so close without being able to touch. He shifted a little in his seat, a fraction closer to you, fingers tightening on his cigarette.

You took a pull from the joint, filling your lungs with its acrid burn. You looked at Regulus expectantly, and he smirked before tilting his head back for you. You leaned in and he parted his lips, letting you blow the smoke into his mouth.

Your friends continued to whoop and cheer, but you focused on Regulus' proximity, the hazy feeling coarsing through your blood.

Merlin, you wanted to kiss him.

Instead, when the last of the smoke left your lungs and entered his, you shifted to whisper in his ear. “Took that hit so well, sweet boy,” you purred, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear.

You felt his body hitch, wanting to cough up the smoke, but he managed to blow it out of the corner of his mouth, casting you vicious side eye. To your delight, you noticed a delicate pink stain was crawling up his neck, warming the tops of his cheekbones.

“She did it!” Evan cheered, and the rest of the group roared in approval.

“Brat,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. You knew you'd be paying for it later, but it was so worth it to know you had an affect on him no one else did.

You sauntered back over to your seat, smiling ear to ear and basking in the groups praise.

Regulus tried to play it off, but there was no going back now. And you knew he was in trouble when it was finally his turn.

“Alright, Reggie,” Pandora said. “Truth, dare, or shot.”

You already knew what he would pick: Reg hated booze, and would rather run around the common room naked than fess up to something.

“Dare,” he said, taking a bold glance at you.

Pandora caught it, of course, and a tendril of uncertainty coiled in your stomach.

“I dare you to make y/n blush back.”

Regulus huffed a low laugh. “Come on, Dora. Give me a challenge.”

You glared at him, and he winked back. Maybe it was the weed, or his competitive nature, but you'd never seen him so brazen.

Everyone ooooh’d.

“Fine, I dare you to kiss one person in the circle!”

Your heart sunk. Even if it was platonic, a stupid dare, you didn't particularly want to see Regulus kiss someone else. Your feelings for Regulus has grown over the course of the your secret relationship, and while neither of you were ready for labels, that didn't mean you wanted to share him, or vice versa if the night in the classroom was any indication.

Regulus narrowed his eyes at her. “Not everyone consents to being kissed by me.”

“I consent!” They all chorused, and you inwardly groaned.

“What? You've never fucked and you've never kissed someone?” Barty teased, ramping up the pressure.

“Fuck off, Crouch,” Regulus hissed. The game was getting to him, and your friends were feasting on his rare display of discomfort.

You'd feel bad for him if you weren't feeling so sorry for yourself. Reg would probably kiss Barty just to shut him up, and then storm off to bed. Leaving you to decipher his words and actions like every night spent without him there to prove his affection with his hands and mouth.

Shit, maybe this arrangement had gotten more out of control than you realized.

“How the fuck is Sirius such a lady-killer, and his little brother is the virgin fuckin’ Mary?” Barty was too busy laughing at his own jokes to notice Regulus get up and prowl across the circle towards him.

Barty finally noticed when Reg was almost on top of him, but at the last second, Regulus pivoted. His hand shot out to grab you by the hair, roughly tilting your head back for the bruising kiss he planted on your unsuspecting lips.

You squeaked in surprise, but quickly gave way for him, melting under his firm, insistent mouth as his tongue delved between your teeth to taste you.

As quickly as he swept in, he was gone, leaving you wide eyed and breathless as he stalked back to his seat and dropped into it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What was it you said? ‘Y/n has the most gorgeous mouth you'd ever seen’?” Regulus said, a mocking edge in his voice. “That you'd ‘give anything to taste her'?”

Barty gaped like a fish.

Regulus smirked. “I’ll have that left bollock now. And I'll take the other one if I hear my girl’s name on your mouth again, you prick.”

Everyone gasped, including you, but Regulus didn't even flinch.

“Understood?” He glared at Barty, then the others, until each one of them lowered their eyes in submission.

Regulus beckoned you forward with two fingers and you jumped up, crossing the space between you and allowing him to pull you into his lap. He threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling you in for another kiss, little more than a peck, but it still made your head spin.

“So, secrets out?” You asked, meeting his eyes.

Regulus shrugged, pecking your cheek. “It doesn't change anything,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’m yours.” He kissed your nose, your temple, your lips, down your neck, until all of your friends dispersed, making disgusted noises as they fled such a public display of affection.

But you couldn't be happier, grinning like a fool as you basked in a thousand not-so-secret kisses.

© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[crssvjb]

Secrets Revealed - Charles Leclerc

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Sumarry: After a painful breakup, you discover you are pregnant, but keep the secret out of fear and hurt.

The morning started like any other: a ray of sunlight streaming through the window, the distant sound of traffic and the soft rustle of leaves in the wind. But the pregnancy test in her hands changed everything.

Two lines.

You felt your heart race. It wasn't possible. He read the leaflet again, checked the test three more times, but the result did not change. You were pregnant with Charles.

She sat on the bathroom floor, her back against the cold wall. His mind went back to the last moment they had together, weeks ago.

—"You think you're always right!" — You shouted, your voice cracking under the weight of emotions.

Charles ran a hand through his hair, irritated. — "And you think everything has to be your way! I can't deal with this right now."

— "Can't handle this? Maybe you can't handle me, Charles."

The silence that followed was the most painful you had ever experienced. He looked away, hesitating. When he spoke again, his voice was a little cold:

— "Maybe we were never right for each other."

You swallowed hard, the words burning like acid. Without saying anything else, he picked up his things and left, leaving behind not only his home, but also everything they had built together.

The sound of your cell phone vibrating brought you back to the present. You looked at the screen and saw messages from friends. There was a party that night and everyone was excited to go together.

But how could you face Charles now? He would probably be there. And you... you didn't know if you would have the courage to face him with the secret you carried.

The party was in full swing when Charles arrived. Dressed casually, he greeted his friends but seemed a little distracted. Since the breakup, he had tried to convince himself that the separation was better for both of them, but a part of him knew that he had messed up.

- "Hey, Charles." — Pierre caught his attention, holding out a drink. — "How are things with Y/N?"

Charles frowned, uncomfortable with the message of his name. — "I think this is over, Pierre."

Pierre looked a little surprised. — "It's over? But... what about the baby?"

The glass in Charles' hand almost fell. — "What baby?"

Pierre widened his eyes, clearly realizing his mistake. — "Ah, shit... I thought you knew. Sorry, Charles. I wasn't supposed to... forget it."

Charles didn't wait for explanations. Dropping his drink on the first surface he found, he hurriedly left the party, ignoring Pierre's calls.

— "Pierre, you big mouth." — Kika said, slapping her boyfriend's arm.

The knock on the door was unexpected. You opened it and saw Charles panting, his eyes shining with a mix of surprise and nervousness.

— "Why didn't you tell me?" — He asked, almost whispering.

— "Charles, I..."

— "You're pregnant, aren't you?" — He interrupted, his eyes searching yours urgently.

You hesitated, but you knew you couldn't deny it. - "I am."

Charles took a deep breath, clearly trying to process. — "Why didn't you tell me? I had a right to know."

— "And I had the right to be afraid." — You replied with a trembling voice. — "After what you said, how could I trust you again? How could I believe you would stay by my side?"

He looked devastated. — "I was an idiot. I got angry and said things I shouldn't have. But I never wanted to hurt you. And now... now I know that I only made everything worse."

You looked away, tears streaming down your face. — "I don't know if I can forgive so quickly, Charles. I'm hurt and I need time."

He took a step forward, hesitant but determined. — "I understand. And I'll wait as long as it takes. But know that I'm here. For you. For the baby. For us."

His words were sincere, but you knew it wouldn't be easy. The road to rebuilding trust was long. But maybe there was a chance for you. Over time.

⎊𝙘𝙧𝙨𝙨𝙫𝙟𝙗 - ²⁰²⁵

[theyluvjake]

our little secrets — lhs

© theyluvjake - all rights reserved, no permission to copy or post, this is my only account.

pt1 pt2 pt3 (make sure to read pt1 first if you havent!!)

Synopsis: cam boy heeseung. class president reader. the schools perfect student harbors a dirty secret, a dirty secret thats alot closer to her than she realizes. what happens when their paths cross? will they discover eachothers little secret?

MINORS DNI!

PAIRINGS - camboy!heeseung x innocent!reader

CONTENT - college au, smut & fluff with plot!! series, slow-burn, multiple chapters.

WORDCOUNT - 8k

WARNINGS - smut, this chapter doesn't have any sex (yet), just mutual / guided masturbation. caming, dirty talk, use of pet names (baby, doll, slut), praise & degradation, honestly hand kink. mentions of corruption kink. like last chapter, hee is a bit of a perv. but we like that <3

NOT PROOFREAD!

"ook.. so, what was that all about?" sunghoon sort of spoke underneath his breath. it was silent for a while amongst the group minus some of them taking sips of their drinks.

"she probably just... - had to pee! " sunoo blurtted out to fill the silence, only to make it fall silent again,

"ill go check on her-" yunjin was just about to turn to leave when heeseung stopped her.

"no, i can go check,"

his smile was soft and reassuring. yunjin was slightly taken aback as he volunteered, but her curiosity in whatever was going on with him and his new found interest in you, made her back down, silently agreeing by nodding her head.

maybe it was a bad friend mood sending a guy you didn't really know that well to check on you instead of her, but she just needed to see where it would go... y'know, for the plot.

heeseung swiftly made his way through the crowds of people heading straight to the guest bathroom,

*knocks* "um.. y/n are you okay?" fuck. wait what if its not even her in there?.. –

shit. why is he here?! the sound of his voice instantly sent your mind into a panicked spiral. - umm.. maybe i can just pretend im not in here and he will go away? yea! so you did, and you stayed silent.

"your friends just wanted to make sure you were okay... well and i wanted to talk to you."

he bit his lip, thinking he was probably just making whatever was going on worse. but he couldn't go back to the group without checking on you.

talk?? to me? why? this can't actually be happening right now. – y'know, maybe it's not him? maybe my thoughts are just all clouded... i'm just making up stuff..

— because there's no way. that would just be too insane.

you were full on in denial. it was unfortunately the only thing you realized you could do to get through the night. closing your eyes you took a deep breath before opening the door eyes instantly meeting the boys pretty doe eyed brown ones.

"um, sorry, yea i'm ok! just... had an eyelash in my eye.." you giggled nervously.

"ah, ok ok... i was worried it was something i said.." the corner of his lips tugged upwards as a small rush of relief washed over.

"is.. that what you wanted to talk to me about?"

"yea, well, and i wanted to still offer you that drink" he couldn't help but smirk as he noticed the light flush of pink painting your cheeks.

you paused for a second. "...well, the thing is i just don't really usually drink..."

"yea, and you usually don't go to parties." he chuckled.

he did make a good point. you didn't, so why would you draw the line at your new experiences now. one drink, that's all. it would be fine right?

"that's also true," you smiled, still feeling anxious, but now having a burning curiosity about him. "sure, i'll take one drink"

he nodded satisfied and before you could register anything, his hand moved to your lower back ever so slightly, just to guide the two of you back towards the kitchen.

the simple feeling of his hand just barely grazing, hovering, over your back was sending waves of electricity through your body.

"so, class prez, what are you doing out at a college party tonight?"

"oh.. um, well it was sort of yunjin and sunoo's idea. i wasn't super on board but... i was curious since i'd never been before."

"ah, i see. i was surprised to see you here." he chuckled, "well, i think everyone was" -

you were about to respond when his voice continued on,

"pleasant surprise though," he said ever-so casually.

you gulped down the knot in your throat and tried to steady your racing heartbeat, but thankfully, before you knew it, you reached the kitchen.

you nervously leaned against the counter while he poured the two of you some drinks before he went to pass you the cup. you hadn't yet looked down, hand reaching for the cup, "thank yo-" then you saw it. his hand.

his awfully familiar, perfectly veiny hand, that just so happened to have 2 identical silver rings on the exact fingers gamer.lhee also frequently had ones on.

you couldn't even finish your sentence before you mumbled something along the lines of 'you had to go', before embarrassingly turning around and completely sprinting away from him.

not long after your disappearing act with heeseung you stayed on the other side of the house, hidden behind yunjin and sunoo, before you managed to make a good enough excuse to leave.

—

after you had gotten home that night, you refused to even look at his page. although that was all your mind wanted to do, to end the burning question and just try and confirm or not confirm that it was him. but you couldn't. not when it felt so possible. not when you knew you had to be in class with him tomorrow.

you attempted to get as good of a night's rest as you could. but it wasn't much, not when you basically got home at 1 am, and weren't able to shut your brain off until around 3 before you could sleep. leaving you with approximately only 5 hours of sleep the next day.

in the morning, you got ready for class, your usual almost uniform-like attire. you just prayed you'd be able to make it through the day without anyone asking about you at the party last night. and above all, not running into heeseung.

you were so embarrassed, you honestly had no clue what you would be able to say to him. it's not like the two of you interacted much, anyways. so why would it be different? yea! it will be fine!

besides before the conversation you two had at the party, you weren't even aware you shared the same literature and physics class, meaning he probably typically sat far across the room from the spot you always sat in. so in theory, all you had to do was try and focus and not think about whether you could feel his eyes lingering on you or not.

however you did not plan for what you saw when you walked into your literature class. lee heeseung, already there, sitting in your chair. sure, there wasn't technically, 'assigned seats' but everyone in the class knew, you sat in that spot every single class.

karma. you weren't sure what for, but this had to be some kind of cruel form of karma. you stood in the doorway for a little too long, to where students now had to nudge past you to get inside the classroom. you were just trying to think of any possible way out of this interaction. but you couldn't avoid him forever. you took a deep breath, fully aware your cheeks had definitely started to turn pink, before walking over to your seat.

heeseung instantly looked up at you with a smirk painting his face, "what? i just figured I'd see how the class president's view of the classroom looks." he shrugged.

"well... now that you've tested it out, could i possibly have my seat back?"

"i don't know... now that i've tried it out, i realized how nice the view is... plus, i'm not doing that great in this class, i think maybe sitting closer will help me with my notes~"

"but-"

"well the seat right next to me is open, you should sit there. you don't mind if i just have yours for the day, right?"

he still wore the same playful smirk on his face, only leading to your face heating up more by the second. you briefly took a look around, at the room, and then the clock. noticing how it was only a couple minutes until the class was starting, and pretty much every empty seat had already filled except for the one next to heeseung.

you sighed and set your books down on the desk, and reluctantly took a seat next to him. before you could even appreciate the shared silence between you two for not even a minute,

"y'know, i didn't really expect you to be the type to ghost a guy mid-sentence."

you gulped and tried to come up with some better excuse but you had nothing.

"yea... um i'm really sorry about that, i don't usually do that or anything.."

he raised his eyebrows curious as to the actual reason to why you ran off, but he didn't push further, instead he chose to use it to tease you.

he chuckled lightly, "don't worry about it, you looked cute running away from me"

he said so matter-of-factly that your jaw almost dropped before you heard the professor speaking, causing the class to finally silence.

"ok class, everyone phones away"

the rest of class, you could barely focus. which was completely unlike you. you couldn't stop thinking about the words.. "pretty", "cute" replaying on loop in your head. as much as you wanted to just pay attention, you couldn't, not when he was only a couple feet away from you.

he easily took note of it too. subtly glancing over at your dazed, flustered expression throughout the entire class.

thankfully, the rest of the class no other words were exchanged. no more teasing or flirty remarks, you finally felt a bit of relief like that was the worst of what would come out of today. but heeseung, he had other plans, he was just starting. this was only your first of three shared classes of the day and his main goal was just to get your attention in every single one.

your next class, you got a break. and then it was on to the two last classes of the day, both of which you shared. economics, and physics.

when you got to your economics class, you took a look around, noticing he wasn't there yet. you quickly took your seat in your usual spot before yunjin joined on your left side.

"ugh, i am so tired," she whined to you,

"tell me about it..." you muttered underneath your breath. the class slowly filled as you chatted with your best friend for the remaining time before the class started. getting so distracted you forgot about heeseung. it wasn't until a little while into class, you heard a familiar voice whispering in your ear. your eyes went wide.

"hey, what page were we on again?"

heeseung. you had been so distracted you failed to even notice heeseung had came in and sat directly behind you.

you carefully turned your head just a little before realizing how close his face was to yours. "um-.. it's 32" you quickly whispered directing your attention back to the front of the room.

"thanks, pretty" he winked before leaning back into his own chair, smiling satisfied.

the heat instantly rose to your face upon hearing the familiar nickname again. the same one that ignited a visceral reaction within you that night at the party, due to the familiarity of the tone, the voice.

the remainder of the class, he continued making up excuses to teasingly lean over, whispering into your ear and your best friend was nothing short of intrigued.

as soon as the professor turned away from the class his lips were practically pressed up against your ear and you felt like you were going insane.

"hey, i missed that part, could i take a quick look at your notes?" he hummed quietly, face so close to yours you could feel his hot breath fanning your ear.

"s-sure, just.. quick" you muttered quietly afraid of being caught speaking while your professor was still mid-lecture.

you carefully passed your notebook over your shoulder, his hands taking it from yours, purposely brushing his fingers over yours in the process. - anxiously tapping the floor with your foot, waiting for him to give it back to you.

"are you almost done?" you slightly leaned to the side, whispering, as the professor had turned around and continued speaking, and you were anxious to have your notebook returned.

"yea, you want it back?" the boy smirked, not that you could see, but you could feel it through the smugness in his voice.

"say please~."

he cannot be serious. "what..?"

"just say please"

you sighed, ignoring the hammering of your heart against your chest.

"please?" you whispered, looking straight forward. but it was more than enough. right as the professor turned away for a brief second, he leaned over enough to place your notebook back onto your desk.

looking down, you quickly made yourself busy, continuing to take notes and try to stuff down all the emotions flowing through your body. that's when you noticed a tiny note written in the corner of your paper.

you look cute when you're blushing. ;)

and just like that you were sure your face was now completely red.

"hey are you okay?" yunjin leaned over noticing how red you were.

"yeah, i'm just hot.. it's a little hot in here" you muttered before removing your sweater.

thankfully the class was nearing the end, finally. as soon as the class was dismissed you quickly packed up your bag and grabbed yunjin's hand rushing the both of you out of the classroom.

"so... what the hell was heeseung doing all up in your space the whole class??"

"i don't know!"

"oh my god, that's why your face was red! you were blushing! do you have a crush on him?? since when?!"

"shut up!" you whispered trying to keep her from practically yelling about this in the hallway. "no! i don't, so since never."

"okayy well can't say the same for him..~" she giggled and you hit her arm.

"shut up. you're imagining stuff." you huffed before the both of you made it into your physics classroom.

this time you were determined to make sure he couldn't sit near you. quickly hopping into the seat next to jake and instructing yunjin to sit on your other side, before you also waved sunoo over, who had just come walking in the door to sit behind you. a sigh of relief left your mouth, seeing how all the seats in your close proximity had already been filled.

you hadn't even noticed heeseung walking in, and taking the seat across from yunjin.

"hey y/n!" jake smiled at you and your gaze lifted greeting him back with a friendly smile.

"hey jake!" - "how was the party last night? everyone was surprised to see you there, did you have fun?"

"oh yea, it was fun.. i guess, - not exactly my thing though." you chuckled quietly before continuing your friendly chit-chat with jake before the class eventually came to a start.

jake was easy to talk to. you two weren't exactly close, but closer than you and heeseung. jake was really good at physics. everyone knew that, so there were a few times he helped you out by offering a few quick study sessions after school at the library. so naturally the two of you did talk when it came to this class.

thankfully, the rest of this class went by smoothly. it was just about nearing the end before the professor announced you would be doing a partner assignment.

"so, pick someone to pair up with. this will be due next week, so please make sure to schedule some time outside of class to work on this with your partner. once you have chosen, before you leave today, just come write down your partnership!"

before you could think,

"hey, do you wanna be partners?" jake smiled, turning to you. and you almost sighed in relief. though yunjin, who had also turned to you, rolled her eyes.

"sure! honestly, i could use some extra help with this unit.. " you smiled to him before the two of you walked to the front of the class to write your names down.

none of which went un-noticed by heeseung. practically burning holes into his friends back. before he could stare any longer he got a backup plan in mind, turning to your best friend just before she had turned to sunoo. "hey, yunjin, do you wanna be partners?"

she was caught off guard at first but then she put 2 and 2 together figuring this was some effort to still get close to you. "sure" she smiled and sunoo rolled his eyes dramatically.

"ugh, i hate you both, you are both the worst." he pouted before turning to sunghoon, "sunghoon, do you have a partner?"

the boy pushed up his glasses before looking up "uh, no?"

"ok, now you do, come on," he said giving him almost no room to even argue before they both walked up to the front together as well.

after all of you had written down your partnerships you all exited the lecture hall agreeing to go to the library so you guys could plan what days you needed to get together to work on the assignment.

"y'know, why don't we all just get together at our house and we can all work together? heeseung was quick to suggest as soon as you all sat down.

"don't the three of you also share a dorm already?" he asked pointing to you yunjin and sunoo to which you all nodded.

"so, since jake, sunghoon, and i share a place and ours is bigger than a dorm, we should all just meet up together there." all of you looked around to see what everyone thought, and it was quickly agreed upon that that was a good idea.

not that you agreed necessarily, but you were quickly outnumbered, on top of that yunjin's enthusiasm was utterly confusing. you all agreed to meet up on friday to work on the assignment. all of you exchanging numbers before going on your separate ways.

—

the next few days rolled around and heeseung seemed to have let down on his teasing for a little bit, and thank god. because you were already stressed about friday the rest of the week. then, thursday came around. your phone dinged as you lay in your bed rolling around on your phone, seeing the notification pop up,

gamer.lhee is live now!

you hadn't even been on his page since the party last sunday. but you couldn't even deny how much you missed it without more time to think, you joined the stream.

you sat up feeling the heat rising to your face, he was fully clothed, the angle just showing his lap and his hands fidgeting with his rings while he chatted with those on the stream.

blushy.baby has entered the chat

"hi blushy.baby, welcome in~" he chuckled to himself, reading the username. oddly or maybe not, it reminded him of you. "cute username, reminded me of someone,"

who??

maybe he has a girlfriend?

maybe a crush?

the comments started rolling in, causing him to chuckle a bit more. "no, i don't have a girlfriend," he clarified, but carefully neglected the ones regarding if he had a crush or not. causing you to try and swallow the lump in your throat. intently watching between the screen and the chat room.

"blushy baby, joins but never talks~ is it because you're shy and blushy~?"

you felt the air get caught in your throat, hearing him single out your username. making your head spin, could he... know? fuck. no! i mean, it's probably not even lee heeseung. like you said, there's no way.

"it's okay, it's cute, i have a thing for cute shy girls." he hummed

blushy.baby: really?

"yes, something about.. about them, i don't know,.. maybe i have a corruption kink." he chuckled darkly before trailing off again ", proud of you for finally commenting something, baby. keep it up, yeah?"

and just like that you carefully squeezed your thighs together. fuck. it wasn't until now, when the comments were so direct, so personal, that you realized how much you loved hearing praises from him. if there was any way to keep you commenting, this was it.

blushy.baby: i will if you keep talking to me like that...

"oh yea?, you like being praised baby, hm? "

"- i was wondering what i should do for today's stream... maybe we can do some praising. maybe some guided masturbation? what do you pretty dolls think?"

the chat instantly sped up with enthusiasm and he chuckled at the eagerness.

"you're gonna be good for me, right?" he hummed his hand lightly grazing over his crotch area where you should start to see the outline of his boner growing.

"alright, now be a good girl for me and take off your pants first hm? dont worry ill follow along." he said as he carefully lifted his hips up in his chair before pulling down his pants leaving him in just his boxer briefs.

like you were put under some sort of trance, you set your phone down against your pillow before lifting your own hips and pulling down your pajama shorts leaving you in just your underwear.

"thats it, just like that," he hummed satisfied, and it almost felt like he could see you. like it was just you and him.

"okay, now leave your panties on, just touch outside for me, hm? just like this" his hand slowly started to stroke the outline of his hardened cock through the strained fabric of his boxers.

and you did the same, slipping your hand down cupping yourself, feeling the moistened material of your underwear clinging to your skin already. letting out a small helpless mutter.

"you're already wet for me arent you? dirty slut."

the sudden use of such degrading words, mixed with his still soft tone, and praises l make your hips shudder. you liked that too... really liked it.

"its ok though, b',cus you're my pretty little slut~, aren't you?" he cooed before letting a small deep chuckle breathe past his lips. he continued, painstakingly slowly stroking himself, the wet patch from his pre-cum leaking out now evident, only soaking you more as you stared at the screen and continued to palm yourself.

"ok lets get rid of these now too, they are in the way." he lifted his hips again just enough to slowly pull down his boxers simultaneously also pulling his shirt over his head. letting his big, stiff and hardened cock hit his stomach as it sprang out.

"look what you do to me.." he grabbed himself in his hand making sure the camera got a good angle of his angry red tip, leaking of pre-cum. "wish i could see what i do to you..." he hummed slowly starting to stroke himself.

on the other side of the screen you were practically drooling just at the sight. your hips needily rutting against your hand. before you too removed the last remaining of your clothes.

"go on, touch yourself." his voice was low and demanding. and it didn't take long for your fingers to slowly start circling your clit.

"mm, thats it baby" he hummed. "now, i want you to imagine its my fingers ok? not yours, mine touching you."

you gulped and closed your eyes doing just as he said and the second you let your imagination roam the better it felt. imagining what his large hands, long fingers would feel like all over you. having the precision that you lacked deeply.

"good girl." - "faster."

at this point, you could barely suppress the whines leaving your mouth, but fearing your roommates would hear you, you turned your head to the side muffling the sounds into the pillow as best you could.

"fuck, i wish i was inside you right now. wanna fuck your tight little cunt." he moaned lowly. and little did you know, the entire time he was thinking about you. about fucking you.

the dirtiness of the words made your brain start to feel weird and fuzzy. your pussy fluttered clenching helplessly around nothing. not even your fingers because still, you had yet to venture into doing anything other than stimulating your clit.

"fuck. im gonna cum. you wanna cum for me, hm baby?" his hand sped up the squelching sounds from the way he was fucking himself into his hand were pounding in your earbuds.

you mindlessly nodded your head as if he could see you, feeling the knot in your stomach building, you were so close.

"lets cum together, yeah? i wanna cum inside you." the sheer thought of that alone sent you flying over the edge the second the words left his lips.

and just like that he started to reach his high as well. imagining what it would feel like to stuff you full. "oh fuck, yes, im coming.." his moans got louder and you continued to rub messy circles on your clit as you rode out your high, your legs and hips shaking and squirming beneath your own touch.

your eyes fluttered open as you slowly started coming down from your immense high. seeing the lewd image on the screen, hee's hand still wrapped around his cock, messy, with cum dripping down everywhere.

"good girl, you did so good for me, pretty." he hummed sweetly. and in that moment you heard it again. not gamer.lhee, lee heeseung. 'pretty'.

it was him.

the sound rang in your ears all you could think about was what it would actually be like to actually be on the receiving end of those words. not through a screen. not to the thousands of others watching him. but to you and only you.

not long after that, the stream ended. leaving you with a world-wind of emotions. but it was already so late. you didn't have time or honestly even the capacity in your brain after all of that to think. you carefully cleaned yourself up before getting back into your bed and passing out almost immediately from exhaustion.

how the fuck. where you going to face him tomorrow.

—

the next morning when you finally woke up, you felt so nervous about the day that you felt physically sick. after the stream last night, it only strengthened your theory on whether or not gamer.lhee was lee heeseung.

you were almost sure of it. and there was no way you could face him today. but yet, you had to.

situation being what it is, you devised a plan, well. kinda. the plan basically entailed ignoring heeseungs presence at all costs. just focus on the project and jake. easy enough, right?

after the day of classes went by, you and your two best friends returned to your shared dorm to get ready before heading over to the boy's house.

"ok, what should we wear?" yunjin spoke almost excitedly as if you were going out to hang out with friends, not work on some boring assignment.

"um... i was gonna wear sweats? what is that not appropriate study attire?" you asked as you walked together through the dorm,

"no that's perfectly appropriate! that's what i was gonna wear too!" sunoo was quick to reassure you only to receive an elbow in the side from yunjin. "OW! what was that-" he rolled his eyes and clutched his side dramatically while giving him a face before continuing with you.

"like sweatshirt and sweatpants?"

"yes?"

"no."

"no?"

"no. how about sweats and a cropped baby tee? still cute but comfy!"

"what is up with you?? why do you care what i wear to work on a school project??" you quickly nipped back at her, unlike your usual demnor, but you were getting slightly irritated, confused as to what the reason for all of this was.

"ok seriously? y/n. heeseung has literally been flirting with you ever since the party, are you that clueless?? i saw all of it in class. plus pretty much all of his friends were eating you with their stares as well. and well, they are all hot. this is your chance!!"

"my chance for what exactly?" you questioned noticing the sudden warmth that had risen to your cheeks. quickly turning away as both of them followed into your room.

"like i don't know, a boyfriend, a sex friend? so many possibilities.." she giggled but not in the way that she was joking, in the way that she was completely and utterly serious. "and that means you admit it right? he was flirting with you!"

"you're crazy. and i don't know! ok! i don't know what's going on with him lately, he's being weird." you obviously were trying to deflect because you obviously couldn't believe let alone admit any of this yet.

"just trust me ok, ill be the best wing-woman, just let me help." she pleaded.

"no, not tonight i need to focus, i need to get a good grade on this project."

yunjin sighed dramatically. "ugh. fine, but you are wearing what i said. i won't interject anything, but the outfit I'm just gonna test a theory ok?"

"whatever.." you finally gave in, just hoping it would make her shut up, and it did. for now at least.

the three of you all got ready which didn't entail all that much since you were already coming from class. you changed into a pair of low-rise baggy grey sweats that pooled at your ankles and paired it with a basic white baby tee that was practically skin tight, just slightly cropped showing the tiniest bit of your stomach. leaving your hair down you fixed your already practically perfect curls, before touching up your flawless makeup.

"you guys ready?" you walked out into the living room finding sunoo, yunjin not far behind.

"yup!"

by the time you guys arrived at the boy's shared house, it was around 4:30pm. yunjin carefully knocked on the door and you anxiously shifted on your feet fidgeting with your school bag before the door was answered. it was jake. you sighed a little in relief.

"hey guys! come on in!" the fluffy-haired boy smiled and the three of you entered into the shared home.

"the guys are in the living room, it's pretty big so we figured we could all just work in there or if it's too loud we can split up around the house, i don't know whatever you guys think works we are cool with!"

jake smiled before leading you all to the living room, not before he got a nice look at you though. he hadn't really taken the time to notice how pretty you were. not until the party when everyone saw you outside of your school persona. but seeing you in his house, in daylight, in casual clothes you looked adorable.

once you reached the living room everyone started to greet each other slowly taking seats around. but as soon as you stepped foot in there you could feel a particularly heavy gaze set on you. heeseung.

you didn't even look at him but you knew it was him. and it was. he didn't even hold back the small lip bite as his eyes drank in your figure from top to bottom only to be brought back to reality when your best friend stepped in front of him.

there was a few other figures lingering around as well. it was jay and jungwon. i guess they didn't need a reason, this is their house but it felt a little strange before the two of them talked. just chatting and letting everyone know they were around if anyone needed help finding anything or food. it was clear though to most that they were just curious, as to what was going on, and more so who was in their house right now.

after everyone got sort of settled in different areas of the room, you and jake took a spot in the corner with some pillows on the floor and spread out your notes and textbooks. "so, did you look over any of the requirements yet?" jake spoke softly,

"oh, uh, no... not yet sorry.." your tone was quickly guilt-ridden and worried before jake was quick to reassure you.

"no, no problem at all, i already did so you didn't have to." he smiled, getting out the instructions given by your professor. "ill just give you a small run-down, and then we can work together on the rest, sound good?" you nodded.

"oh and let me know if im going too fast or you don't understand something, not that you won't... you are like the top student of the school. but just in case y'know,... i know physics isn't your favorite, so honestly, i don't mind doing most of the work!" he smiled reassuringly and for some reason it almost made you blush. you weren't sure exactly why, maybe because you two were finally in such close proximity alone together.

either way, what you hadn't noticed was how heeseung noticed. everything. his jaw was clenched starting holes into jake and you before yunjin brought him back to reality.

"ok, heeseung, could you stop eye-fucking y/n for at least like 5 seconds?"

"what?" heeseung looked back at her barely even acknowledging what she said.

"i agreed to be your partner, god knows why because i know you actually suck at this class, so come on please lets just get something done."

"oh yea... sure, sorry.." he sighed and redirected his focus to the papers infront of him.

about and hour and a half went by and everyone kept to themselves, or moreso, their partnerships. trying to get as much done as possible, before inevitably needing some sort of break.

"my brain hurts..." you whined slightly rubbing your temples. earning a small chuckle from jake.

"we make a pretty good team though, huh? look were almost done in one day!" he gestured down at your work proudly and heeseung overheard the whole thing, getting irritated he walked over to the two of you.

"hey y/n you okay?" your heart dropped hearing the framilar voice, slowly looking up to meet his face.

"oh yea... im fine" you muttered and jake looked up confused as well at the boys sudden approach.

"i just saw you rubbing your head, does it hurt? i have some tylenol if you need some,"

"oh shit, does it? i thought you were just joking around, let me go get some-" jake quickly went to stand up,

"no no!! im fine seriously, i think i just need some water and a snack or something, thats all!"

"say less," jake smiled getting up before offering his hand to help you off the ground aswell, earning a heavy eyeroll from heeseung.

"come on ill show you where we keep the best snacks" he smiled and gently brushed his hand across your lower back guiding you to the kitchen with him. a framilar feeling from when heeseung did the same exact thing to you at the party.

which heeseung instantly noticed and pissed him off even further.

"snacks? hell yea fuck this " sunghoon instantly stood up and so did the others everyone gravitating towards the kitchen for a small snack break.

heeseung followed closely behind the two of you, before he stopped biting his tongue, and decided he had enough of jakes hands on you.

heeseung swiftly came up behind jake,

"hey sim, pretty sure this project doesnt require such a hands-on approach." he glared before turning his direction towards you. jake just looked at his friend confused at the sudden passive aggressive comment.

"you good? you don't need jake to babysit you, right?" heeseung stepped between the two of you creating enough space between the two of you for his comfort. grabbing you a bottle of water from the fridge. "here, and let me know if your head gets worse and you need the tylenol, hm?"

heeseungs sudden attentiveness had your heart racing and your stomach fluttering. and the tension between him and jake was palpable now. you tried to make sure to maintain your composure (you weren't.)

because when you reached out to take the water bottle from his hand you instantly had flashbacks to last night. that hand, his hand, his voice, him. you nearly dropped it when the boy caught it and handed it to you again "careful there pretty, you sure you're okay? –" he leaned in subtly enough to where it wouldn't look suspicious. "or do i just make you nervous" he smirked quickly pulling back before casually taking a seat.

the others were all already sitting around the kitchen table, snacks in hand chatting and eating. You took a seat in the only empty chair, almost as if it was intentional, the only seat open was between both jake and heeseung. You reluctantly sat down anxiously sipping on your water, almost completely silent as the rest of the group chatted among themselves.

"wait, guys i have an idea.." yunjin suddenly speaks up and the misciclanious chatter quiets. "lets play a game... y'know, as a break while were here, - how about truth or dare?"

everyone looks around but it doesnt take but a couple seconds for everyone to agree. partially because all of you were so bored, but mostly because it gave everyone an excuse to procrastinate for a little while longer.

"i'm down" jake and sunghoon immediately responded in which heeseung followed.

"can we play too?" jay and jungwon walked up hearing the commotion from the kitchen.

"the more the merrier!" sunoo clapped his hands excitedly and you almost let your whole head fall on the counter hoping it would hit hard enough to knock you out.

"who wants to go first?"

"ill go!" jungwon quickly volunteered

"ok, truth or dare jungwon?" yunjin asks sitting up on her elbows.

"truth"

"If you had to survive the zombie apocalypse with one person in this room, who would it be?"

jungwon sighed as he looked around thinking deeply about his answer.

"shit... i dont know i feel like im probably fucked with all of you to be honest but, maybe jay or jake? I know jay can fight, and well jake is studying in healthcare so he could probably help keep me alive.."

"yess sirr!" jake chuckled and posed proudly while jay laughed, nodding.

"ok sure, but don't make it seem like i just go around beating people up won..."

the rest of the group went back and forth between some light hearted and casual truths + dares. heeseung, casually pulled out his phone, opening his twitter and deciding to tweet an update to his account as he frequently would. but it was weird,

at the exact same time he tweeted, your phone which was upside-down next to your arm buzzed. weird.

i mean obviously everyone gets notifications, he shouldn't have thought that much of it, but the timing was so perfect. he decided to send another one, and surely enough, your phone buzzed again. his eyebrows immedialty raised. no fucking way.

gamer.lhee: ??

he tweeted a third time, just a random series of question marks and right on time, your phone buzzed, a third and fourth time. and there you were, completely oblivious as to what was happening. too busy listening to the others playing the game to even notice your phone buzzing on the table.

he really had no way to prove it but he had to try. and the fact you were all playing truth or dare made it even easier. he quickly set his phone down and re-focused his attention to the rest of the group.

"ok, heeseung, you haven't gone yet, truth or dare" yunjin smirks and you can only pray to god she doesn't say anything stupid, but you know her.

"truth"

"who in this room would you trust the most with a secret?"

perfect.

"y/n." heeseung quickly and casually responds, to which his best friend gasp offenedly.

"dude are you serious, in a room full of your best friends??" jake scofs

heeseung shrugs, "i don't know, something just tells me that y/n is really good at keeping secrets."

you immediately turned your head, feeling your heartbeat quicken, so fast that it had you debating if you would go into cardiac arrest. why... how.. why would he,,.. why would he say that??? he can't know. how would he know.

you just looked up at him flustered and confused and he just shrugged again keeping the same smug smirk on his face. "am i wrong?" he asked but this time quiet and directed at you.

"ok my turn to ask!" sunoo shouted excitedly, seeing that the questions and dares were starting to pick up in the heat.

"y/n, truth or dare?"

your eyes widened like a warning towards sunoo instantly. what best friends they are. you were practically begging him with your look to go easy on you but you knew he wasn't.

you rubbed your temples trying to gauge which choice would be less lethal. truth, right?

"truth, i guess.."

"ok, when was the last time you thought about kissing someone..." he pauses briefly before finishing the question, "- in this room?"

your face said everything.

"oh?" sunghoon raised his eyebrows curiously as pretty much everyone in the room, except for 3 people seemed surprised. yunjin, sunoo, and heeseung. who wore a smug smirk on his face.

"oh? so, recently then?" sunoo teases further only causing your face to redden even more.

jake quickly also turned his attention to you, although he didn't want to make you even more embarrassed, so he said nothing. just sat in silence wondering who it could be. feeling a slight twinge of jealousy.

"n-no.." your voice quickly betrayed you as your words stumbled out in a stutter. "i don't, i mean, - i haven't thought about,.. kissing, anyone! , ever!"

"you are literally such a bad lair." yunjin scofs

jake quickly noticed how red your face was, and whilst heeseung was relishing in your flustered state, jake quickly took it into his hands to help his partner out of the situation.

"ok my turn, no one has asked me yet!" jake says to the group eyes starting to re-direct to the boys.

"ok, truth or dare jake" jay quickly replies

"dare"

"do your best impression of one of us"

jake carefully looks around before his eyes locked on his target for a second. jake proceeds to sassily cross his arms and roll his eyes hard, before giving jay a nasty side eye. collectively everyone started laughing

"sunoo." the group almost said in unison, as they continued laughing at jakes sassy impression of sunoo.

"hey!" sunoo snapped back but he couldn't even argue as it was completely accurate.

"ok, seriously though this was fun, we should get back to working now though," jake says while others boo and sigh

"hey i never said we couldn't continue this another time?" the rest of the group agreed and everyone went back into their spots in the living room.

everyone slowly got back into working on their projects and jake could tell your mind was elsewhere, so he without asking took on most of the work finishing up the project.

"hey y/n? can i ask you something?"

you turned quickly meeting the boys gaze,

"sure, what is it?" he paused for a minute before he asked you quietly, wanting to make sure no one overheard.

"is there something going on between you and heeseung?"

you eyes widened taken aback by jakes question,

"no, why..?" you quickly responded

"oh, i dont know, it just kinda seems like theres something going on between the two of you lately..."

"theres not! well.." you paused as you thought back to the night of the party. maybe he already told the guys what happened?

"well?"

"did he ever tell any of you what happened at the party?"

jake raised his eyebrows and shook his head, "no, did something happen between you two at the party?"

"no! well sorta... i just, he offered me a drink and i said yes and then i sorta.... ran away.."

you looked down fidgeting with your fingers. honestly you found jake easy to open up too. he was someone who was easy to talk to and instantly made anyone feel comfortable in his presence. so it wasnt hard to be truthful with him. it felt nice honestly.

its not like you couldn't talk to your best friends, its just that, you knew as soon as you did it would make it real. because they would encourage you, and you weren't exactly sure if thats what you wanted yet. with jake, he just was there to listen.

"why? - i mean, whyd you run away?"

"honestly... i dont know" you lied. obviously you couldn't tell him the full truth. you couldn't tell anyone.

"hey, well, if you ever need someone to talk to know that im around" he smiled warmly before playfully reaching over and ruffling your hair.

"i know yunjin and sunoo are great but its obvious they aren't always the most subtle people..." jake chuckled to which you did as well.

"yea, tell me about it."

"im here to listen, and i promise anything you tell me ill keep to myself." he smiled and you could tell he was being genuine.

"thanks jake" you smiled back warmly

"hey, at least we got the project done! no one else seemed to finished today. i bet we will get a 100%" he smiled bumping your arm and heeseung took note of the giggles and closeness clenching his jaw.

"you like her, dont you?"

heeseung snapped his head back to yunjin,

"is it that obvious?"

"hm, not really, well to me yea, but i dont think anyone else has noticed."

heeseung sighed as he admitted his feelings for the first time ever.

"good luck with that, she hasnt dated anyone since like middle school."

"so are you gonna help me out or what?"

"eh, maybe,– maybe if we get a good grade on this assignment."

heeseung sighs like hes doomed bc he knows whatever grade the both of them got on the project would be purely based off if yunjin knew what she was doing, because he did not.

"you are such an idiot, why do you think i agreed to be your partner when she partnered up with jake? its obvious that was the only reason you even asked me. "

"thanks," he smiled

"yea yea, whatever, u should probably hurry up, looks like jake thinks he has some sort of a chance too," she said and both of them shifted their direction to the two of you.

heeseung clenching his jaw as he saw the way jakes hand brushed over your arm.

"does she like him?" he asked gaze still fixated on the both of you.

"no idea, she doesnt talk about any of that, shes always so focused on school i havent heard anything about her having a crush in years."

the conversation slowly simmered out and heeseung got another idea as he saw you finally open your phone. he quickly pulled up his twitter account before tweeting again

gamer.lhee: "you watching me, angel?"

your face immediately turned red seeing the notification, clicking on it and seeing the previous ones. that's when it clicked. the whole time your ringer had been on. he was testing you. he knows.

you quickly stood up and excused yourself to the bathroom, something that was seeming to become a habit now. heeseung followed behind before his arms cornered you against the hallway wall.

"heeseung, what are you-"

he leaned in, dangerously close, lips almost brushing against your ear.

"do you also get this flustered when you watch me at night too?"

- tbc.

dont forget to reblog if you enjoyed it!!! <3 super helpful and appreciated!!

note: also feel free to comment and let me know what you thought of this chapter!! im open to hearing feedback and whatever you guys enjoyed so i can make the next one better!! ^.^ tysm for reading!! hopefully i didnt make too many errors lol..

taglist!: @yohanabanana @heebear @4eeseungz @wonniewonsblog @yangjungwonnie @eugenia29-blog1 @merwdusa @river-demon-slayer @planetmarlowe @woniesbae @ad1m4ise @allthesqueaks @yoonglestangies @clxodyvesprr @millis-diary @immelissaaa @penny44224 (lmk if you'd like to be added <3!)

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Fear factor||Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: Just as Lando finally warms up to Y/N’s pet snake, Slinky, he discovers that she’s added a new member to the family—a tarantula. And now, once again, he has to face his fears.

Word count—964

What pet next?

Lando had officially made peace with Slinky. It had taken months of patience (and a lot of bribing with kisses from Y/N), but he could now sit comfortably with the ball python slithering across his lap. Hell, he’d even taken a few selfies with Slinky, which Y/N had definitely saved in a folder labeled “My Boys” on her phone.

And now, here he was, lying on Y/N’s couch, casually letting Slinky curl around his arm as he scrolled through his phone. If past Lando could see him now, he would’ve passed out.

“You’re not so bad, mate,” Lando muttered, giving Slinky a small pat on the head. The snake flicked his tongue in response, almost as if in agreement.

Y/N walked into the room, pausing to admire the scene. “You’re officially a reptile guy now.”

Lando scoffed, not looking up. “Let’s not get carried away. I tolerate one snake. That’s the extent of my growth.”

Y/N hesitated, shifting slightly on her feet. “…About that.”

Lando finally glanced up, immediately suspicious. “What?”

Y/N bit her lip before nodding toward the corner of the room. “I, uh… I got a new pet.”

Lando’s stomach dropped. “A new what?”

Y/N smiled nervously before leading him toward another glass enclosure—smaller than Slinky’s but still big enough to house something alive.

Lando stared at it warily, his brain already cycling through worst-case scenarios. “…Please tell me it’s, like, a fish. Or a gecko. Or literally anything that isn’t—”

She tapped on the glass.

A moment later, a large, very hairy, very eight-legged creature emerged from a hideout.

Lando screamed.

Not just a startled yelp. A full-on, heart-stopping, “this is the end” kind of scream.

He bolted backward so fast that Slinky nearly went flying.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!”

Y/N winced. “Lando—”

“IS THAT A SPIDER?!”

“She’s a Grammostola pulchra,” Y/N corrected, as if that made things any better. “A Brazilian Black Tarantula. And her name is Charlotte.”

Lando’s face was pure betrayal. “Oh my—why?! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!”

Y/N sighed. “Because I love spiders. And she’s gorgeous.”

Lando pointed at Charlotte, who was now sitting still, minding her own business. “NO. SHE’S A NIGHTMARE WITH LEGS.”

“She’s harmless,” Y/N said, crossing her arms. “She’s actually one of the most docile tarantula species out there. They’re super calm.”

“‘Calm’ and ‘spider’ don’t belong in the same sentence!”

Y/N rolled her eyes, stepping closer to the tank. “Come on, just look at her. She’s adorable.”

Lando did not look. “Nope. Nope. This is my villain origin story.”

After Lando calmed down (which took a while), Y/N sat with him on the couch, gently rubbing circles on his back.

“Okay,” she started, “I get that you’re scared. And I won’t force you to hold her or anything.”

“Good,” Lando muttered. “Because I was considering moving out.”

Y/N laughed. “But… maybe you could just sit with me while I handle her? See that she’s not scary?”

Lando side-eyed her. “You do realize I only just got used to Slinky, right?”

“I know. And I’m proud of you.” She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Which is why I think you can do this too.”

Lando huffed, but his face softened slightly. “…She doesn’t, like… jump, does she?”

Y/N grinned. “Not unless you startle her.”

“Great. That’s so comforting.”

An hour later, Y/N sat on the floor, legs crossed, with Charlotte resting in her hands.

Lando sat a very safe distance away, watching with a look of deep distrust.

“She’s so gentle,” Y/N cooed, letting Charlotte slowly walk across her palm. “See? Just a little fuzzy baby.”

Lando’s entire body was tense. “That is not a baby. That is a horror movie prop.”

Y/N giggled. “You said the same thing about Slinky at first.”

“Yeah, but snakes don’t have eight legs!”

Y/N let Charlotte continue her slow crawl, keeping her movements steady. “She’s just curious. She likes to explore.”

Lando squinted. “Does she know she’s terrifying?”

“Not at all. She thinks she’s cute.”

“Delusional.”

Y/N smirked. “Come a little closer.”

Lando’s expression screamed absolutely not, but after a long internal debate (and some very convincing puppy eyes from Y/N), he scooted forward.

Charlotte, seemingly unbothered, remained perfectly still in Y/N’s hands.

Lando hesitated. “She’s not gonna, like… lunge at me, right?”

Y/N chuckled. “She’s not a werewolf, Lando.”

Slowly, cautiously, Lando extended a single finger, hovering just above Charlotte’s fuzzy body.

Y/N nodded encouragingly. “Go on.”

With a deep breath, Lando barely brushed his fingertip against Charlotte’s back.

The tarantula didn’t react.

Lando exhaled. “…Huh.”

“She’s really soft, isn’t she?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “…Yeah.”

For the first time that evening, he looked properly at Charlotte—not as some monstrous beast, but as an animal, just doing her own thing.

“She’s not as awful as I thought,” he admitted.

Y/N beamed. “That’s progress!”

Lando sat back with a sigh. “Yeah, yeah. But just so we’re clear—if she ever escapes, I’m moving out.”

Y/N smirked. “Noted.”

Lando side-eyed Charlotte. “And tell her if she tries to befriend me, I will scream.”

Charlotte, of course, remained unbothered.

A week later, Y/N walked into the living room to find Lando sitting near Charlotte’s enclosure, arms crossed.

She paused. “What are you doing?”

Lando didn’t look up. “Having a staring contest.”

Y/N blinked. “…And?”

“She’s winning.”

Y/N burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you like her now, don’t you?”

Lando huffed. “I tolerate her.”

But when Charlotte twitched her legs, Lando muttered under his breath:

“Nice one, mate.”

Y/N grinned. Yep. He was officially warming up.

The End (…Until the Next Pet).

[feirceangel]

Imagine | Mine (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen)

Imagine Feyd discovering that someone has dared to harm what’s his.

Word Count: 1,574

Warnings: possessive!Feyd, objectification, blood, murder, (Feyd is his own psychotic warning in himself to be honest.)

Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is not known for his mercy.

Ask anyone in the universe who has heard even a whisper of House Harkonnen, and they will warn to tread carefully when dealing with them. If you value your life, you wouldn't even get near them.

And everyone knows Feyd-Rautha is one of the best examples of Harkonnen rage and violence, second only to his uncle, the Baron.

Renowned for his physical prowess as a fighter, his insatiable lust for blood and death, and his determination to rise in power and favour, he is a force to be reckoned with.

So why would anyone dare go against him?

He finds himself asking this as he looks upon your form, head bowed and turned slightly away from him. Hiding something.

Gracefully and predatory as a panther, he approaches you slowly.

"My darling.." his voice rasps.

Normally you greet him immediately, recognizing his footfalls from down the hall. You would smile at your na-Baron and ask him how his day went if you did not spend it with him.

You are oddly subdued tonight.

His eyes, always searching, follow a drop which falls from your cheek, landing on the cold concrete floor. Instantly, he is before you, grasping your chin in his strong hand. He tilts your head up, none too gently, and examines your tear-stained face.

"What happened?" His already raspy voice is deeper, darker.

Feyd is no stranger to your tears. In fact, he often revels in their presence, trying all sorts of things to make you cry. But he hasn't done anything to illicit that response today.

When you don't offer an answer right away, his grip tightens, squishing your cheeks together.

"Speak."

His voice holds no room for disobedience. You nod your head and he releases you, stepping back slightly.

You shake slightly as you begin, "I am sorry, na-Baron."

Feyd's anger is growing. You only call him that in public or when you are disturbed.

"Do not apologize. Explain," he can't stop himself from hissing.

"I took a walk today," you begin slowly. "Just to the training grounds to see if you were there. But I didn't see you so I walked back. He stopped me and-"

"'He'?" Feyd echoes.

"Richter," you supply the name of one of the Baron's top generals. "He grabbed me and said I was a no-good whore who should've been disposed of long ago."

Anger swirls with Feyd's chest at this news. Of course, many people have said harsh and often cruel things to you. But you always kept your head high and ignored the jabs. You’re always so strong.

This is different, he can tell.

"What else? You are not one to cry over a mere insult," he brings his hand up to swipe a tear from your soft cheek. You lean into his touch, relishing in its familiarity.

You inhale deeply, "He struck me without warning, na-Baron."

In his oft colourless word, all Feyd now sees is red.

"Where?" His voice is so low it's almost impossible to hear.

You shake as you lower the collar of your dress to reveal a swollen area on your shoulder, "Here."

His dark eyes flicker to yours, bidding you to continue.

You move your hand to your face and gently touch your tearstained cheek, "And here."

Feyd's hand clenches into a fist. He bends closer to examine your face, noting the slight swelling and the way you bow your head. He places his hand on the back of your head, angling your face upwards. A featherlight kiss is applied to your skin so softly you can barely feel it.

Your master and lover rises to his full height, "Rest my darling, I shall return shortly."

He turns to leave but you reach out and grab his arm. Feyd stops and turns to stare at you.

"Please, na-Baron. Don't hurt him."

He scowls at your request, "He has hurt you. Death is his reward."

"He has done nothing that you have not," you say. "I have known worse pain from your own hands.”

Feyd shakes his head and grips your arms, dragging you forward to stand with your bodies touching.

"Only I can touch what's mine. Only I can hurt you how I see fit. You take the pain only I give you." He dips his head close to your ear, breath sending shivers down your spine. “Do you understand?”

"Of course, my lord na-Baron," your voice is breathy.

You are intoxicated by his closeness, the dangerous poise with which he caries himself, the possessiveness of his words and the truth of them.

"Say it."

"I'm yours alone, Feyd."

He crashes his lips onto yours, teeth clashing and lips bruising from the force of it. His hand squeezes your neck as he kisses you. When he finally parts, leaving you breathless, he takes a moment to admire you. His thumb brushes against your lips before he turns once more.

"That swine sealed his fate when he laid hands on what's mine," Feyd growls as he stalks out of the room.

He returns mere minutes later, dragging an incredibly nervous Richter behind him. With a violent shove, he pushes the frightened man to stand before you.

"I heard you disrespected my darling," Feyd points to the floor. "Kneel."

Richter obeys without hesitation. He knows how quick Feyd is to anger… and how few survive it.

"Kiss her shoe."

The man's eyes flicker to yours.

"Now," Feyd places his foot on Richter's back, forcing him down.

Shakily, he presses his lips to your shoe with a mumbled apology. It does nothing to sate Feyd-Rautha's wrath.

With practised ease, Feyd lands a harsh kick to the man's ribs. He repeats the action until the man is a sobbing mess splayed before your feet like an offering.

You regard him coldly, remembering the bite of his hand across your face.

“Please! Please forgive me, my lord!” Richter manages to sob coherent words. Spit and blood dribbles from his mouth pathetically.

“You have insulted me,” Feyd states. “Hurt what’s mine, belittled what’s mine.”

The man’s hand reaches towards your foot, as if you could spare him from the savage that is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

Feyd crushes his hand beneath his shoe, grinding down eliciting a whimper of pain, as he steps before you and above his prey.

He is regal in his violence, eyes shining with possessive obsession.

“Dear one,” he places his hand on your arm before handing you one of his blades. “Help me.”

He smirks as you grip the knife tightly. Your eyes meet his.

Feyd knows you’d do anything he asked of you, just as he knows he’d burn the universe to ashes if you asked him too.

“Of course, my lord,” you say, kneeling by the hurt man. “If it pleases you.”

Feyd’s grin reveals blackened teeth, “You please me, dearest. Now, make him suffer for insulting me and mine.”

The first cut is shallow, uncertain as it travels down the man’s bare arm. Feyd tsks his disapproval.

You adjust your grip and slash again, quickly this time, hitting deep and pointedly. The man screams out and thrashes, but Feyd is upon him in a second. He holds Richter still as you unleash your rage upon him.

Feyd watches you draw blood with a pleasure he’s never experienced before. Relishing in your bared teeth and angry snarls, he commits this to his memory.

He halts your hand as the man ceases his thrashing. With a predatory smile, Feyd guides your hand with his, penetrating the blade deep into the man’s throat.

You watch the man loose his life, as you pant with exertion.

“You have done well, my pet,” Feyd praises, removing the knife from your hand and tossing it aside. He places his hand atop your head.

“Thank you, Feyd.”

He moves his hand down your back and presses his face into your blood stained neck, inhaling deeply. Your hands come around to grasp his shoulders, bringing him close to you. He wraps his strong arms around you, holding you like a lover would.

When he sits up, you lunge forward, capturing his lips with yours. Ignoring the blood and the dead body on the floor, you guide Feyd towards the bed, hands leaving bloody marks on his pale skin.

“Please let me repay you,” you beg, tugging at his shirt. “Allow me to repent.”

“You don’t need to repent, love. But you can keep begging.”

He allows you to disrobe him and press him down onto the soft bedding.

In all honesty, Feyd craves this battle of dominance between you. He could overpower you in an instant, yet the hold you have over him has him bending to your will.

You need only beg and he would take a knee and worship at your feet.

And you know it.

You know he craves this, needs it like an addict. He adores the pain you can lavish upon him, adores the meek demeanour you show to everyone else, adores the side of you that matches his own carnal desires tenfold, adores the way you gladly bleed for him.

He adores you.

And you worship each other in a wicked ritual of blood, sweat, and tears each night.

And he’d never let anyone take this away from him- take you away from him.

He’d kill anyone who dared try.

~~~

[A/n- thanks for reading! Please let me know if you liked it :)]

[sailorsoons]

Break (h.js)

PAIRING: Witch!Joshua x Cursed!Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve suffered your entire life after a single magical accident when you were thirteen. Joshua has been your biggest comfort and anchor, but he also becomes your deepest regret. 

WC: 18,176

AU: Magic/Witches, Modern Fantasy

GENRE: Friends to Lovers, Doomed Lovers, Heavy Angst, Smut

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

WARNINGS: Death and implied accidental murder of a sibling, childhood trauma, creepy vibes, heavy angst, a lot of internal monologue featuring angst, physical and verbal abuse from members of the town toward reader, Joshua and other members sometimes try to solve things on behalf of reader and she finds it frustrating (this is discussed), explicit sexual content including vaginal fingering, nipple play, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex, not explicit dom/sub dynamics at all but Joshua is definitely in charge, subspace/blacking out post sex, heavy angst ending - reader and Joshua are some vengeful bitches - I would say this is probably an unhappy ending in a sense of the problem isn’t resolved (that we know of) and the ending is a bit ambiguous. 

A/N: This was a fic I originally had on my BTS blog (of the same name), but I have edited for Joshua because idk he just fit the vibes. I assure you, I did more than just flip names in this. I sat down and edited this quite a bit - you’ll be able to tell the parts that are like.. My old style of writing vs. where you see new stuff because my tone/cadencs are totally different, but hopefully it works :) 

MASTERLIST | ASK | PERMANENT TAG LIST | ▷NOW PLAYING: HAUNTING BY HALSEY

JOSHUA IS GOOD AT HOLDING GRUDGES. Even as a child, his mother always said he had a tough time letting things go. He never knew how right she would be. His mother’s words are all he can think about as he storms through the dark of the forest, shadows whispering about him as he looks for the lone hut in the very dark of the woods. 

Little hut, little hut

Hidden in the wood

Little hut, little hut

Up to no good

If his parents could see him now, he knows they would be broken. Tear-streaked and shaking, a lost boy alone in the woods and drowning in anger so hot that the ground scorches beneath his feet. Looking for a salve. Looking for vengeance. 

Little hut, little hut

Alone in the gloom

Little hut, little hut

Silent as a tomb

Blood witches are dangerous. Joshua knows this, everyone knows this. A blood witch is the reason why his parents are dead and he is storming through the darkness in the throes of madness. But Joshua is only thirteen and full of pain and desperation, vowing to never let something happen like this again. If he has to use a devil to defeat a devil, he will. 

Little hut, little hut

Across the dark stream

Little hut, little hut

Wait for the scream

A dark stream wends its way through the trees. Joshua gets a running start and jumps across the whispering waters. When he lands on the other side, he waits. It took a lot of searching to find someone to tell him how to find the witch in the woods. No one comes here, especially not in the dead of night on Beltane. 

They say only evil comes from the little hut in the woods. Joshua knows now that it isn’t true. Evil comes from anywhere and everywhere, even from the people that one least expects. Evil killed his parents. Evil is why he is alone, crying on the edge of the stream, waiting for the sound of a banshee's call. 

He hears it then. A one-note wail, thin and high-pitched. His blood goes cold and the fight in him nearly goes out at the sound. His heart begins to pound so loud that it’s all he can hear, the thundering beat of panic and terror as he realizes what he’s about to do. 

“Little hut, little hut,” a voice that he cannot see calls to him. There is no hut that Joshua can see. Only omnipresent darkness, cloying the air in front of him. A tingle skitters over his arms and he becomes acutely aware of another presence there with him in the dark. “I call to thee. Little hut, little hut, come to me.” 

Joshua blinks rapidly a few times and sees the outline of a hut in front of him. It has a blurry shape like it’s really the idea of a house. It’s so shadowed and opaque that he’s not entirely sure if it’s really there. He walks toward it anyway, one foot in front of the other, looking at the hut. 

If a home could be a phantom, he thinks this is what the hut is. There is a vibrational pull here, a dull buzz in his veins as he gets closer and closer to where the blood witch lives. His stomach turns and his instincts beg him to leave. There is evil in this place. He knows it. Can feel its oily presence like a poisonous slick in his veins. 

A door - or rather what he imagines is a door shape - stands open in the hut. Inside is eternal darkness like Joshua has never seen before. The buzzing in his veins has become stronger, an itch he can’t scratch. A ringing in his ears. 

Sometimes to beat evil, you must use evil. So Joshua steps into the house despite all the reasons he should turn around and run. Because he is alone, he is in pain, and he needs some sort of penance. Justice. 

So he asks the blood witch for a favor. 

Little hut, little hut

Hear my strife

Little hut, little hut

Ruin this life 

-

When the rock hits you right at the top of your spine, you know it isn’t an accident. All the same, you spin on your heel and look at the edge of the lake where the kids are skipping stones. They squeal and look away from you, huddled together as they giggle and look over their shoulders with frantic and excited faces. 

You clench your fists and keep going. What can you do to a group of kids? Tossing children into the lake while you’re an adult seems unfair, though it certainly crosses your mind. It isn’t necessarily their fault that they were taught to have such hate in their hearts at a young age, after all. 

So, you keep going, grinding your teeth as you march up the slope toward the main pathway that cuts through the park, gravel crunching beneath your feet as you quicken your strides to put distance between you and the cackling children. You’re not positive they won’t throw another rock at you, and you think that it might send you over the edge.

Early preparation for the Beltane festival is in full swing all over the park. There are trucks unloading carts and piecing together stalls, vendors and contractors with clipboards walking through spray painted grass with city officials, and a giant maypole waiting to be constructed. 

Living in a town of witchy folk can be fun, you suppose. The only downside is that most of the witches in your town despise you and think you’re an abhorrent blight to the earth. If killing and sacrifices hadn’t been outdated and frowned upon, you’re sure they would have stuck you to an altar as a child the first time you showed signs of being a leech. 

Leech. 

It’s an unkind thing to call witches who siphon magic. It isn’t something you can control - it isn’t even something you were born with. Most witches who siphon magic are born that way. A sort of magical defect in the way they interact naturally with the world. 

Most think of siphoners as a plague to the witch community. Thieves and monsters who can only feed on magic to make magic, a perversion of the natural balance of things. The way you look at it, witches who siphoned aren’t really any different from the natural order of the world. All living things need an energy source: food for animals, sun for plants, bacteria for amoebas. It isn’t different, really. 

Perhaps you would not be so kind to leeches, though, had you not began your existence as a siphoner at thirteen years old. 

It isn’t a night that you enjoy remembering, but it is certainly a night you can’t seem to forget. One moment you could command your magic like most other witches. Most, because you were a blood witch with raw talent and a powerful relationship with the earth’s energy. 

Blood witches were as revered as they were feared, witches who needed no spells. Who could use the magic within them instead of their connection with the earth to conjure. To blood witches, all other witches were leeches, really. You didn’t tell that to your coven, though you thought about the irony often. 

Your blood magic had vanished, though. It happened while you lay asleep in your bed, pressed up against your twin sister. Twins were a special thing in covens, a rarity in the magical order of the world that was seen as a good omen. There was a connection you shared with her deeper than the connection to your own magic, a bond that rooted the two of you together. That made you seek one another out for comfort. 

It had been storming that night and you had sought out the warmth of her bed and the vanilla sugar of her hair to soothe your nerves. You didn’t like storms and thunder very much, but she was wide awake in her bed, watching out the window as purple lighting cracked across the sky and thunder shook the house. 

You’d slipped into her bed without a word and she stood guardian over you, hand tucked in yours as she watched the sky light up. You remember her laying down next to you after the storm passed. The warmth of her breath on your cheek as she fell asleep. The hum between the two of you, soul recognizing soul.

She’d been dead by morning, magic siphoned and drained dry in the middle of the night. 

The memory of it is metallic in your mouth. You head toward your apartment, hands tucked into the pockets of your jeans, head down. Beltane always makes you think of your sister. Makes you think of the morning you woke up on your thirteenth Beltane to find her cold and dead, magical signature gone. Severed. Torn away from you. 

Losing your ability to generate magic was only second to losing your sister. You still feel adrift fifteen years later. Moving through the world with a piece of you missing. Two pieces of you, if you count the fact that you can feel the magic around you but not reach for it. You never reach for it, though you suspect that no one believes you.

Except maybe Joshua. But even he doesn’t know the story of how you became what you are. All he knows is that you can’t create your own magic, and yet he’s never shamed you for it. Never turned his back on you, or berated you or bullied you. 

That sort of kindness is a rarity in your world.

Your small town is easy to navigate. There’s not much that happens that doesn’t immediately become the knowledge of all citizens, and there’s not really a way to get lost unless you’re a tourist coming to visit the country's spookiest and most magical town. The locals are pretty firm believers in magic, but the out of towners don’t really believe. They just want camp and kitsch. 

It’s busy season, the streets filled with people buying decorations to celebrate Beltane, restaurants full of tourists trying out local fare between going shop to shop. The festivals always draw a big crowd to your corner of the world, making it easier for you to blend in with all the rest of them. It almost makes you feel normal when someone doesn’t recognize you and immediately scowls. Sometimes you can even get away with eating at places that wouldn’t normally serve you, the workers too busy to really look at your face and see you. 

A few people have taken pity on you outside of Joshua. Seungcheol and Jeonghan would never turn you away, always welcoming you with open arms, a warm cup of tea and free books for as long as you like at their bookstore. You’re not technically allowed in the metaphysical store on Fourth, but as long as Jihoon is working, you can walk through the rows and rows of crystals, grimoires, spices and charms. Joshua is where you’re really home, though, his bakery a place of safety and fresh-smelling sugar cookies. 

It’s where you go now, sticking to the shop windows and away from the tourists flowing all over Main Street like ants. There’s a line stretched out the door when you get to Wicked Sweet Bakery, and Chan looks helpless behind the counter as he nods while taking an order, wide-eyed and terrified. 

Joshua is at the delivery counter, flour staining his cheeks and brows as he nods politely and hands a box of cupcakes over to his customer. As though he can sense you, he lifts his head and swivels, eyes scanning until they land on you, immediately shining. Your stomach leaps the way it often does around him, especially when he breaks out into a beautiful smile and jerks his thumb at an apron.

You roll your eyes. You’re not technically an employee at the bakery, but you’re the next best thing, grabbing an apron from the rack to attempt to help the stressed out witches behind the counter. 

“Can you take over the order counter?” he asks, the blush on his face the only sign that he’s getting a little frazzled. You nod and he winks at you, leaning over to press a quick, chaste kiss on your cheek. “You’re an angel.”

“Mhmm,” is the only response you manage before he’s leaning over Chan’s shoulder to correct something on the register.  

There’s a smooth cadence to helping around the store. You fall into a pattern, calling out order numbers and passing over boxes of charmed sweets. The customers don’t know they’re charmed - at least not the people outside the magical community. They come here for the famous rose scones that inspire love and the lemon tarts that generate good luck, but they don’t realize how much of himself Joshua really pours into these sweets, magic and all. 

Being here is nice. Chan grins when he sees you behind the counter, happy for the help. He still gets overwhelmed behind the till, and he’s more than happy to step back and chew his lip nervously when he processes a discount wrong. You’re up next to him before he can ask for help, typing on the screen while gently walking him through it again.

Chan is a good kid, an elemental witch who is prone to cause rainstorms when he gets stressed. For now, he is a bottle of sunshine, thanking you shyly and letting you know that he saved you a bag of butterscotch cookies in the back. 

“I put in a little extra sunshine,” he promises. By that, you know that he means magic. To give you. You open your mouth to scold him but he shakes his head furiously. “I wanted to do it. You can’t yell at me. I’m your favorite.”

That gets you. It’s hard to be mad at him, especially when anger is likely to set him off into a rainstorm. Chan gives you a wicked smile, his little ego sharp and wicked under his sweet surface. You let him off with an eye roll and a squeeze of his wrist, making him beam. 

This is what keeps you going most days. The unfettered kindness that Joshua and his friends show you. None of them are locals to town, but they had formed their own coven a little at a time, a circle under the broad umbrella of the town's overall witch population.

Covens are difficult. You’re both in and not in Joshua’s coven, an unofficial member by friendship. But you don’t practice anymore - won’t let yourself - so you’re on the outside looking in most weekends and during spiritual times of the year. 

But by witch standard, you are a part of the covenstead of the town, the larger collective of witches who are loyal and responsible for one another, all answering to the high priestess. 

When the rush of customers and shouting orders over the glass dies down, you lean against the counter and reach a hand out just as the door to the back swings open. Joshua has a glass bottle of soda ready for you, and he blinks in surprise when he sees your hand ready for it. You’re a little surprised as well. 

“It’s freaky when the two of you do that,” Chan comments, eyes bouncing between you and Joshua as the older hands you the bottle. “You’re always so in-tune.”

“She’s a witch,” Joshua snorts, leaning against the glass case of mostly empty dishes as he takes a swig of his own. “Divination and all that is sort of what we do.” 

“Yeah, but it only happens with you.”

You don’t meet Joshua’s eyes as you swig from the bottle, the carbonation fizzing on your tongue. “I know you’re jealous, Chan,” is Joshua’s answer. Always deflecting. You're grateful for the way he rolls with the punches, easily accepting the way others talk about you two as an item so you don’t have to. “Are you hoping those butterscotch cookies win her over?”

Thunder cracks in the sky as Chan goes red in the voice, launching into an argument with Joshua who starts laughing like a maniac.  

When it’s time to close down the shop, you help the two of them out. Joshua goes to the back to begin batching things anew: fondant, bread, frosting - anything that he can let sit overnight or prep while the lights are out and he’s gone home. You focus on cleaning with Chan, letting him put on a pop playlist while he sings along, siren voice lulling you into a steady rhythm. 

Part of you wants to ask what they’re doing for Beltane. Celebrating the holidays used to be your favorite, threading flowers through your hair, blessing your hearth and home, weaving new spells of prosperity and happiness alongside your sister. Now you don’t participate in any of the rituals with the others. 

Most of the time, you celebrate alone in your room. Mark the points of the elements and the compass on your bedroom floor alone. Sit in front of a single candle, watching the flame flicker as you draw your circle of salt, murmuring blessings. It isn’t a powerful place of practice and you have no alter to communicate through, but it's something. It’s yours. 

Instead of asking, you follow Joshua and Chan out of the door on the promise of dinner. This is the one thing that does feel like a ritual you’re allowed to participate in, holding chapel at Joshua’s dining room table and elbowing with Soonyoung or Mingyu for scraps of food piled high in the center of the table. 

Evening sky stretches overhead as you walk between Joshua and Chan. You cast your eyes upward, watching the gray clouds float by. Joshua throws an arm around you, pulling you in close and squeezing you to his side. He smells like vanilla and sweet orange from making his tangerina vanilla cakes for Seungkwan. You breathe in his scent, letting it wash through you like a balm. 

His arm presses a little too hard on the bruise where the rock from earlier nailed you, and you hiss, reaching behind your head automatically to adjust his hold on you. 

“What?” he asks, lifting his arm and slowing his gait. Joshua’s face is picture-perfect concern, mouth tilted downward, a crease in his brows. Before you can explain, his hands are pulling at the collar of your shirt. “You’ve got a welt here, what the hell is that?”

You smack at his hands and step away from him, pulling his warm fingers from your shirt. “It’s nothing.”

“Whenever you say ‘it’s nothing’ it's always something. Why do you have a lump on the top of your spine?”

Dancing away from him, you grab Chan who grunts, mouth full of corn chips as you shove him between you and Joshua. More unhappy noises come from the youngest as Joshua grabs for you but you squeak and use Chan’s broad body to block him again. 

“Yah!” Joshua yells, reaching both arms around either side of Chan to grab you. He manages to get one of your arms, pulling you toward him - and by default, Chan - and keeps a firm grip while you swat and fight back. 

“Aish!” Chan howls between the two of you, adding to the chaos as he shoves both of you away from him. “Stop using me as a battering ram! I’m going to drop my chips! Guys!” 

“Tell me why you have a wound!”

“It isn’t a wound!”

“It’s a type of wound!”

“Ugh let my arm go, hulk! What are you doing at the gym? Juicing? Jesus Christ!”

“Stop hissing at me like a rat! Are you trying to bite me?”

Chan drops his bag of chips and lets out a long, forlorn wail. “My chiiiiiiiiips!” 

After a struggle, you manage to shake Joshua off of you, taking a few steps back as you huff angrily, fists at your side. Joshua sidesteps Chan who is pouting and looking at the ground, blonde bangs falling in his eyes as he stares at the spilled corn chips. Joshua makes it worse by stepping on them with a crunch, earning a shriek from Chan that goes ignored.

“Did someone hurt you?”

A rumble rolls through the sky from up above. You cast your gaze upward, looking at the clouds that are a little more swollen than they were a few minutes ago. You can sense the static in the air, a promise of lightning if you don’t diffuse Joshua’s anger quickly. 

Similar to Chan, Joshua is sensitive to the elements. Where Chan has an affinity for the sky and the rain, Joshua has a lot more skill with fire. Still, Joshua is a powerful witch and his rage on more than one occasion has disturbed the sky and the lake in the middle of town. 

It’s partly the reason he works so hard on never getting angry. 

“It’s nothing, Joshua,” you answer softly, eyes pleading. You desperately want him to drop it. Part of you is honored that he cares, but the other half of you can’t bear the way he looks at you. “Please drop it.”

“Someone hurt you. Again.”

Thunder echoes across the sky. Chan looks upward. “That isn’t me, even though I am mad about my chips. And about being oggled at by Mrs. Hansen again, she really wants my goodies.”

“Shua, it isn’t a big deal. Please.” You glance upward, thunder rolling again. “You’re going to make it rain.”

“I’ll make it do more than rain when I find out who did it.”

“They were just kids, Shua. You can’t-”

He swears loudly and there’s a flash of lightning above your head. It makes you think of that night with your sister, laying in bed to let the storm pass. You clap your hands over your ears and squeeze your eyes shut, automatically crouching to make yourself small. 

Behind your shut eyes, you try not to let the memories come. Try not to imagine the vanilla scent of her hair, warm hands on your skin turned cold the next morning. You block out the screams, the way your mother shoved you away and your father yelled and yelled and yelled and-

Above, the thunder stops. Rain doesn’t fall, and the air pressure returns to normal. Shivering, you crack an eye open to look at Joshua, terrified at what you might find. His anger is so rare, but every time you witness it, it’s like watching a sudden storm bloom on the horizon, all terrible wind and teeth, but beautiful in its power. 

Chan is murmuring in Joshua’s ear now, voice hushed and urgent. Joshua’s eyes become unfocused as he nods, Chan’s hands grasping the older’s biceps firmly. When Joshua’s eyes find yours over Chan’s shoulder, they’re fathomless. Endless pools of warm brown, and something else that you can’t decipher as he murmurs something back to Chan, who steps away.

Licking his lips, Joshua offers you a hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m sorry.” 

You swallow thickly. Reach out a tentative hand. “It’s okay.”

“You know I would never hurt you?”

Of course you know that. You aren’t afraid of Joshua or the power he holds. You aren’t afraid of what he can do. You are afraid of the memories that nip at your heels like a pack of jackals. You are afraid that one day he’ll decide you’re not enough. You are afraid of the way that it makes you feel when he’s this close, his voice pitched low, soft eyes only for you. 

“I know that,” you murmur, letting him pull you toward him. “It’s just the thunder, that's all.”

His smile is soft. “I know, I’m sorry.” He squeezes your hand. It’s a perfect fit, your palm in his. His skin buzzes with magic. You pull your hand from his quickly, not trusting yourself to touch him. You’ll never make that mistake again - especially with him. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

-

Home isn’t the small apartment on the west side of town that you keep by yourself. Home is Joshua’s two-story house in the suburbs made of brick and mortar. It’s the crowded dining room packed tight with chairs pulled close to the wooden table and a chandelier full of burner candles and incense. It’s Joshua’s cat familiar running yowling down the corridor as Jihoon’s maine coon chases it, hissing. 

Home is the handful of witches who don’t care that you can’t generate your own magic, all of them laughing and pushing empty plates toward the middle of the table where Seungcheol collects them with a snap of his fingers, the cutlery lifting and stacking neatly with the soft click of ceramic. 

Bloated and overly-satiated, you lean back in your chair, sighing heavily. Jihoon is next to you, quiet and staring off into space the way that he often does. Next to him, Jeonghan and Seungcheol have their heads bowed together whispering, a blush flushing across Seungcheol’s wine-glazed expression and tops of his ears. 

Seungcheol and Jeonghan strike something in you. A longing that tugs at your heart strings, drawing your gaze to the man sitting on the other side of you. Joshua is leaning back in his chair, arm stretched over the back of your seat as he yawns mid-conversation with Junhui. 

Joshua is barely touching you, but just the warmth of his arm is enough to make you dizzy. It’s barely there, just against the top of your back. You lean into him a little, resting your head on top of his arm. He maneuvers his hand to scratch the top of your head lightly. It feels so nice that your eyes flutter shut, letting him play with your hair as the noise in the room drifts to a dull buzz. 

In another life, you think that this touch could be something more. Sometimes, you let yourself wonder if it is. Let yourself pretend that maybe Joshua’s lingering gaze and hand is more than the platonic affection he has for you. 

It’s a silly dream. 

When the dishes are washed and the others have said their goodbyes, it’s just you and Joshua leaning against the counter in the kitchen. He has a glass of wine, sipping it thoughtfully as you put the cork back in the wine bottle. When you meet his gaze, you see something there. Hesitance. Anxiety. 

Joshua chews on his lips and swishes the wine in his glass. The red liquid arches elegantly along the sides of the glass, slowly dripping back down to pool in his cup. You remember once at a winery you could measure the legs or something when swishing wine in a glass. Joshua had taken you to that winery because he wanted to research wine making in general, considering creating and packing his own. He eventually tossed the idea out, wanting to focus on expanding his sweets menu instead. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, taking a sip out of your own cup. It’s a strong mulled wine with notes of cherry, you think. “You look nervous.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

Your heart beats hard once. Then twice. Speeds up. Instead of answering right away, you take another sip, mind running through all of the things you think he might say. Maybe this is it, he’s going to tell you that you can’t come around as much. That though you’re his best friend, you have to stay away from his coven. 

Instead, Joshua says, “You know I’ve looked into your situation.” You wince when he says it but he pushes forward, leaning off the counter as he grows eager. “You said you weren’t always a siphon, that you could control your own magic as a child. I’ve been researching similar cases, and there is a lot of evidence that supports that it might be a magical block.”

“Joshua.”

“Look, there’s nothing wrong with you. Never has been. There is nothing to fix. But I know you don’t share that same opinion, and I know that if you could change things, you would.” His jaw flexes. “And I care about your happiness. I just… Jihoon and I have been reading up on rituals to release magical blocks, and with Beltane in a few days, we thought…”

Warmth bubbles in your chest. You know how much this means to him, trying to help you. To free you from the burden that you carry with you wherever you go. This is not the first time he has brought up trying to figure out your ailment. Your situation. And though you’re glad he cares about you enough to try, there is something humiliating about it. 

“You don’t have to decide tonight,” Joshua murmurs. You look up at him and his gaze is soft. Vulnerable. “But if you want us to try, we discussed it. And our circle is strong enough to try it on Beltane.”

Licking your lips, you nod once. “I’ll think about it. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“I’m always thinking of you.” You give him a look and he smiles, a little sad. “What? I am.” 

“Stop trying to be charming. I’ll only say yes if I want to.”

“I have no doubt about that. However, it is impossible for me to stop my charm. It is a natural gift. I am, afterall, a gentleman.”

You roll your eyes. “A gentleman who lacks humility.”

“Ah, but my hubris seems so small whenever Seungcheol is around.” 

You don’t push the argument. Joshua grins again before opening a drawer in his kitchen, pulling out a small, cloth bag. There’s a green ribbon tying the top of it shut, and you smell the herbs inside of it immediately: cedar, bay leaves, mugwort. 

Joshua holds the bag out to you and you frown, taking it. It’s weighted with crystals. You squeeze the bag a little, feeling the crunch of crystal fragments and herbs. There is a vibration that travels from your fingers up your arms and you feel a sense of solid warmth.

“A protection bag,” you deadpan. “Really?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t need this.”

“The welt on your neck says otherwise.”

“Please stop!” Your voice is loud in the empty kitchen. He pulls up short, leaning against the counter and watching you with wide eyes, lips parted slightly. You sigh deeply and close your eyes for a moment, calming yourself before you open them and say, “I don’t mean to yell, it’s just - it’s hard when I feel like all of you coddle me. It’s humiliating.” 

“It wasn’t my intention. I’d never want to make you feel that way.”

“I know.”

You do know. The intentions are good, but you can’t help the raw, venomous edge of frustration. It makes you feel less than, this constant need to help you. To do things for you. 

“I am a fully functioning adult who is capable of taking care of myself, despite being a thorn in the covenstead’s side.”

“You know that isn’t how we think of you.”

You give a frustrated noise. “Then please. Let me ask for help when I need it, and not just when you feel the desire to give it to me.” 

Joshua is quick to catch the protection bag when you toss it back to him. He nods silently, eyes fixated on the floor. It feels like a hot stone has been dropped in your stomach, burning and weighing you down. How quickly a good dinner has turned sour, how the light air between the two of you has gone cold. 

“Thank you for dinner. And for looking into a way out of this,” you gesture wildly to yourself. He nods, but there’s no mirth in his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah of course. Let me know about… you know.” 

“Yeah. Yeah.”

That night, you have trouble sleeping, just like that night when you were thirteen years old. 

-

The back door to Shadow Metaphysical opens, creaking as Jihoon sticks his head out of his office. His long hair is styled behind his ears and he’s in a soft-looking black sweater and jeans. He gives a visible sigh of relief when he sees it’s you and not one of his shithead coven mates coming to bother him for free stuff.

“Hey,” he greets, exiting the office. His familiar, Nami, shoots between his legs and toward the front of the store. 

Jihoon leads you through the door to the main storefront. It’s closed for the evening and he has receipts and cash laid out on the counter as he balances his drawer for the day. Rows and rows of dark shelving littered with candles and wax light the way here. There’s no traditional lighting, floating candles up in the ceiling and random balls of light appearing every once in a while.

When you asked Jihoon how the non-magical customers didn’t think the magic was real, he simply said, That Harry Potter lady did me a solid. They all think it’s some sort of intricate system. 

Shadow Metaphysical is one of your favorite places. It smells different each time you go in, the magic and the herbs and the spells inside of its four walls shifting with the energy of its employees and customers at all times. Today, it smells like night rain and crackling lightning. 

Wordlessly, Jihoon gestures at the shelving, signaling to do whatever you need. He busies himself with going back to counting bills, head down and trusting you not to steal anything like everyone else in his coven. Not that he would care, as he’s always emphasized he has no problem not taking your money.

Still, you always pay him, especially since he lets you in after hours where no one can yell at you for being inside. The covenstead has barred magical stores from siphoners, convinced that the moment they cross the threshold, they’ll consume the entire store like gluttonous demons.

It isn’t true. Well. Not really, anyway. You feel the magic in the store throbbing like a wound in your side, begging you to reach out and touch it, to pull it in, to use, to burn it. You ignore it. You’re not here to eat magic like a parasite. 

As you pass rows and rows of books on rituals, you think about Joshua’s offer to help you figure out your block. It wouldn’t be the first time you tried and failed to figure out what happened. With magic, the point of origin is always the key to any spell. The how and the where of your condition are important elements to figuring out the solution, but no one really knows the how and the where. 

Your friends don’t have full clarity on that night. You’ve never told them in explicit detail of how you woke up, full of your sister’s magic. You’re sure they know, though. Everyone has whispered about the way you killed your sister in her sleep. A little murderer. You’d only escaped persecution for being a child, and because up until that fateful night, you’d never been a siphoner. 

It helped that your family had been respected. 

You pass a grimoire. The runes on it shine gold when you pause, winking at you, begging you to touch it. You feel the whisper of the spells of dozens of witches inside of it, their phantom fingers brushing down your arms. Your spine. They call to you, sing to you, press kisses that promise power on your brow, their fingers turning to claws and-

“Stop,” you growl out loud. The grimoire stops calling to you immediately, silenced by the violence in your voice. 

Shaking off the encounter, you grab what you need from the shelves, ignoring the way other magical objects feel like they're looking at you, wanting to be picked up, to be touched, to be used. You shove away all acknowledgement of them, arms full of materials. 

At the register, Jihoon gives you a wary look as you set things down on the counter. He takes his time scanning them, glancing at you occasionally. You can sense he wants to ask a question, dark eyes lingering a few times. That’s the thing about Jihoon, though. He’ll never ask, he’ll just wait until you give up.

Which you do, sighing and saying, “Ask.”

His lips twitch as he bags a few jars of thorns. “How often do the books in here talk to you?” You level a stare at him and he rolls his eyes. “I can hear you. I just pretend not to be nice. Plus, I have a magical tie to this shop, I can feel the energy shift. Everytime you’re here, it’s like suddenly the entire store has it’s eyes on you.”

“Great,” you growl. “Yes, it happens often. I don’t know if it’s a siphoner thing or a me thing. Most magic begs me to use it, but magical objects are worse. They’re borderline sentient.” You chew your lip and rub your sweaty palms on your jeans. “It’s worse around the sabbat holidays.”

“Stronger magic.”

“Yeah.”

“Did Joshua explain what ritual we talked about?” You shake your head. He pushes over a paper bag filled with all your things and you hand over your card. He doesn’t take it until you give him a pointed stare. Plucking it from your fingers, he sighs and says, “Two smaller rituals wrapped into one. Seungcheol found a really old binding ritual that was used to form a bridge between multiple rituals.”

“A chain spell,” you offer. “Impressive. I guess that would be used for improving upon old rituals?”

“Yeah, exactly that. Joshua had been doing some research on magical blocks, and found one that determines whether the point of origin is internal or external.” 

“External?” He nods. “Like a curse?”

“Yes. Any reason anyone would want to curse a thirteen-year-old?” 

Jihoon phrases it like a joke and chuckles. But you don’t laugh, stilling as you think about his question. Your immediate answer is no, at thirteen there was certainly nothing you could have done to be cursed. But you think about your parents, thinking about the fear revolving around their gifts for blood magic, think about the way they were always regarded with equal parts fear and reverence as coven leaders.

Curses aren’t common. It would take a coven of extremely skilled witches to curse someone, but it could take a single very skilled blood witch to perform one. Hexes aren’t long-term and are far more manageable, but you think about the way your power vanished, the way you bled your sister dry. 

The misery you’ve faced since, the loss of your parents shortly after, the hatred from the covenstead. 

“Holy shit, you don’t think you’re cursed, do you?” Jihoon’s question brings you out of your daze. All of the amusement has been wiped clean from his expression, eyes deadly serious. “Who would curse a child? And how? A hex is easy enough to manage, but a full on curse?”

“People were really afraid of my parents,” you murmur. “My mom used to lead the covenstead here, you know?” That surprises him and you nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I forget you’re not from here, but yeah. My family led the covenstead until… well. All that happened.”

“I never knew that. No one talks about it.”

There is a question there. Jihoon won’t say it outright, but you sense the curiosity nonetheless. You feel your throat constrict a little as you murmur, “My parents killed themselves when my sister died. No one talks about it because… wel, would you?”

“No.”

“Exactly.”

“Your parents have any enemies prior to that?”

“There was…” You think back to the time when you were thirteen. Those days are painted so painfully when you think about them that it is hard to remember anything else. “My parents were involved in the Trials that were going on at that time. Hunting Dissenters.”

Jihoon’s face darkens. “I see.”

“They had a lot of enemies. So maybe… I don’t know.”

For a few moments, Jihoon doesn’t say anything. He busies himself with packing away the rest of the till and waving his hand, dousing all the lights in the store with ease. There’s a little pang as he does it, such simple magic that costs him nothing. That you have no access to.

“Well,” Jihoon sighs, a little awkwardly. “Think about it. If - and it’s unlikely - that someone cursed you, you’ll know if we go through with the ritual.” He pauses and levels you with a look. “It is dangerous though. So consider the risk before you agree, hmm?”

You nod and thank him. He leads you out of the store and gives you an awkward smile goodbye. Never affectionate, but always polite and warm nonetheless. 

Sunset-purple skies stretch above you. It smells like fresh rain and earth outside. Town is quieter now that the evening crowd has finished dinner and gone home or back to their accommodations for the evening. You pass places with patio seating and small diners tucked between stores, wary eyes of the workers following you as you walk down the sidewalk. 

No one says good evening. Some don’t look at you at all. 

Curse. 

The word weighs heavy on you. You’d never considered that your condition could be from a curse before, but now that you think about it, you can’t stop the thoughts racing through your mind. 

The Trials had been a scary time for witches, Dissenters leaving covensteads to start their own, dark and forbidden spellwork becoming more and more popular among covens. Your parents - especially your mother  - had been a huge part of cleansing the covenstead from witches who practiced dark magic.

Especially the few blood witches. 

You had been a blood witch, though. Like your sister, like your mother. People had always been wary of them, which is why your mother worked so hard to get rid of the Dissenters when she was the head priestess. 

They give us a bad name, she would say darkly when you and your sister asked why she was getting rid of witches like you. Like her. In times like this, we have to work extra hard to prove we aren’t evil. 

Jihoon’s words weigh heavy on you as you sit in your apartment alone. You don’t bother to put the TV on, knowing that you won’t be able to pay attention to anything. Magic always comes at a price, and two rituals wrapped into one is going to take a toll. 

And yet, you think about getting to the bottom of this sickness, this curse. This inability to do anything but steal magic, to leech off of others. You think about how your magic used to feel, the way you could command fire with a snap of your fingers or make stars fall from your bedroom ceiling. 

An ache settles in your chest as you lay back on the couch and close your eyes, throat tight and eyes burning. You have been without magic for so long. Part of you thinks what's a little longer? But deep down, you crave it. The spark, the life, the touch of magic. 

You want to be able to enter stores without the itch underneath your skin, an addiction you can’t cure nor divulge in. You want to be able to be a part of a community again, to do rituals with Jihoon and Chan and Joshua. You want to be able to help him in his bakery, imbuing his scones and cupcakes with love and a little spark of something extra. 

Tears flow hot on your face. You know what you want, and you know that it’s going to cost you to get it. You know that to do this, you’ll have to be open and honest, because there are only two possible options for your magic block: you are cursed or you have a mental block. 

It’s hard to know if being cursed as a result of your parents’ policing is worse than potentially having an internal block, an innate refusal to do magic because of what you did. 

That night sits at the back of your mind like a stone, sinking sinking sinking. Pulling you under as you think about it in explicit detail. Maybe you simply killed your twin. A horrible accident, but perhaps it was just you. Your magic. Your fault. 

And your magic had fled because of it, a self-inflicted punishment. 

Before you’re aware of what you’re doing, you have the phone in your hand, sniffing and wiping your tears with the back of your hand. Your face feels swollen and sticky with tears and overwarm and it’s hard to get a breath as you press the phone to your ear, listening to the ringing.

Joshua picks up on the fourth ring, his voice cheery. “What, did Jihoon forget to let you in the store?”

“No.”

“I’m coming now,” Joshua says, completely forgoing humor when he hears you sniff, hears the waver in your voice. “Are you home?”

“Yeah.”

“Did anyone hurt you?”

“No,” you hiccup. “I’m just really sad and I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’ll be there in ten. Do you want to stay on the phone?” You shake your head and let out a little sob. Something about knowing he’s coming over to be with you cracks your resolve a little more. You realize he can’t see you when he prompts, “Hey, you there?”

“Sorry, no. Drive safely, please.”

“For you? Anything.”

Despite your tears, your mouth wobbles into a weak smile at that. It makes your heart squeeze just a little, underneath all the hurt. 

It doesn’t take him long to let himself in the apartment. You can sense him before he even gets to the stairs leading up to your unit, his crackling energy like a beacon to you. When he opens the door with the key you gave him, he fills the space with static, magic snapping and tinged with worry. 

Magic always belies how Joshua feels. Like now, as he rushes across the apartment, he is lightning, all energy and anxiety popping and snapping as he sits on the couch next to you, pulling you into his chest. 

Joshua is warm and smells like vanilla and sweet orange from the bakery. It’s soothing. You close your eyes and clutch the hem of his shirt, resolve cracking the rest of the way as he becomes your anchor as you drift out to sea, holding you so that you can be lost in the overwhelming feeling of loss without getting too far. 

He doesn’t tell you not to cry. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong. Joshua leans back on the couch, pulling you into his lap, folding your knees so that he can hold you. One hand rubs your back and he rests his chin on the top of your head, letting you use the crook of his neck as a place to hide - and turn into a waterfall for your tears. 

This is what you love about Joshua though. He doesn’t pry. He just lets you use him, lets you cry it out and he waits. 

When the tears begin to dry and you find it easier to breathe again, you shift away from Joshua and wipe your face. He smiles down at you, eyes glittering and expression so fond that you find yourself staring blankly into his face.

“I’m sorry,” you sniff. “And thank you for coming.”

“Anything for you.” You hate the way it makes your heart flip when he says that. You start to pull away from him to sit on the couch properly but his arms constrict you, keeping you to him. You frown but he asks, “I want to know what happened, if you’re ready to talk about it.”

Joshua is so close his breath fans your face. You look up at him. Silky, long lashes that you could individually count with your proximity, beautiful tan and smooth skin with a glow all witches have, pretty lips that are always the perfect shade of pink, curved upward in a permanent smile at the edges. 

Your heart starts to speed up and your mouth dries out with the way he looks at you, intense and searching. Suddenly you’re afraid if he looks too hard, he’ll see down to your core. 

“I- yeah. I need some water,” you croak, pulling away. He lets you go this time, unaware that what you really need is space between the two of you, a barrier so he can’t see. So he won’t know. “Turns out sobbing makes you thirsty.” 

Before you can get all the way to the kitchen, there’s a soft clink accompanied by a full glass of water on your counter. You glare at Joshua over your shoulder and he winces and shrugs in apology. 

As you gulp down mouthfuls of cool water, you wonder how to word exactly what you’re upset about. How you’re tired of existing in the world without your magic but you’re also unsure if you want to know the truth about why your magic left you. 

Joshua is iffy on the details about the night your sister died. He’s never asked you explicitly for the story before, but if you want to go through with finding out the root cause of your block, you know you’ll be exposed. To him. To all of them. To his coven.

The desire to be one of them is so strong that it makes your knees weak as you walk toward the couch. You sit abruptly on the couch arm, staring into the distance as you drink the rest of the water. You want to join them so much, to celebrate the sabbat holidays, to feel the rush of a closed circle of magic and yet…

Would they accept you if they knew you killed your sister? You’re not so sure. 

You look at Joshua. He waits patiently, watching you with soft eyes. Moonlight seeps in through the blinds behind him, wreathing him in silver light. He looks like a god, then. Of shadows, of night, of mystery. This best friend of yours who you love so much and who has loved you indiscriminately when he didn’t have to. 

“I talked to Jihoon about maybe doing the ritual,” you start slowly. Joshua nods, encouraging you. “And I think I came to the conclusion that I want to do it. I’m tired of feeling everyone’s magic pull at me, like a vice that I have to ignore every day. And I’m tired of wanting to do things I used to, to feel the world around me. But most of all, I just want to be a part of something. A part of a coven, a family.”

Understanding paints Joshua’s face. He reaches a hand out and takes yours, giving you a firm squeeze. “You know even with no magic, you’re our family, right?”

“It’s different.” He starts to protest but you shake your head. “I want to be in a coven and to feel the power of a circle. I want to celebrate and do rituals with you, I want to be a part of something magical. I can’t do that like this, not without the fear of draining everyone.”

He nods. “Of course. We’ll have you either way, you know? We’d still welcome you like this.”

“But I’d never be able to close your circle.” Joshua nods. He knows the truth of this. “But this ritual requires truth, and there’s some things about me that I’ve never talked to you about. Things about the night I… I could no longer do magic. I want you to be informed, to know what we might find if we do this.”

“Only if you want to tell me.”

“A coven and a working circle requires trust and honesty. I can never be one of you if you don’t know me completely.” 

He nods. “That is true.” 

“I’m going to tell you about the night that my sister died.” He squeezes your hand and nods, but says nothing else. “My sister and I were twins, both blood witches. Unusual enough for our parents and the covenstead to be incredibly proud of us, but not unusual enough for people to be afraid, you know?”

“Twins… That’s incredibly powerful.”

“Yeah,” you agree, throat tight. “We were really fond of the connection too, you know? It was nice to always have someone to rely on who was my perfect balance. We were never-” You take a breath. “Neither was more powerful than the other. There was never any jealousy or overpowering the other. We were always evenly matched.” 

“Whenever it would storm,” you continue. “I would go lay in her room. I hated storms but she loved them. I did this countless times up until we were thirteen. I don’t know… Shua, I don’t know what was different that night. I think back to it every single day, what did I do differently, was there an object I touched, a spell I used? And I come up with nothing. But on Beltane when we were thirteen, it was storming. We’d already finished the festival and our parents were out doing their duties and I went and I fell asleep in her room and… and I woke up…”

For a moment, you can’t get the words out. They get trapped in your throat and you stare, unseeing. You imagine the lightning against the window. The warmth of your sister's hands. The tree tap tap tapping against the window with the strength of the wind.

“I drained her in the middle of the night,” you whisper. It’s out now and you can’t stop, can’t look at Joshua’s face to see his reaction. “I went to sleep as normal and when I woke up, she was freezing and lifeless and I felt more powerful than I ever had before. Like I was this magical battery charged up and sparking.” 

For a moment, you pause and look at Joshua. You expect to see horror or disgust or a variety of negative emotions, but he’s still watching you. Fond. Waiting. No judgment. When he sees you staring, he gives you a tiny smile and a squeeze of your hand. 

“I’m still listening.” 

“Aren’t you…” You trail off and shake your head. “I killed my sister. Are you not horrified?”

He frowns then. “You didn’t kill your sister.”

“Yes I did.”

“You weren’t born a siphoner, how could you possibly predict that would ever happen? You didn’t get in that bed with her and then leech her magic, no matter how much it must feel that way. It wasn’t your fault, though I know hearing me say that doesn’t make it feel any less true in here.” He reaches forward and taps your heart lightly. “There is nothing I can say to ease the pain and guilt of that, but what you’re describing to me isn’t the tale of a murderer. It’s the story of someone who had a freak accident, which is more common among the magical community than one might think.”

“I don’t know what happened,” you admit, a tear escaping your eye. Before you can wipe it though, Joshua’s thumb is there, swiping across your face and collecting it. You watch with wide eyes as he cups your face, looking at you with so much something that your head spins. “But in the morning, I was alive and she was dead. And my parents and everyone else hated me for it. That’s why they treat me the way they do. Why my parents were driven to grief. Why I’m alone.”

“You’re not alone. Not anymore.” 

“How can anyone accept me like this?”

“Because it isn’t what defines you. We are not made up of only the things we do and the things that happen to us, and I promise you, this is something that happened to you.” 

“But why? Why me?”

“I don’t know,” Joshua admits. “But we’re going to find out, okay? 

“What if the others don’t want me?” 

“They would never,” he’s quick to say. He’s still holding your face, wiping tears from your eyes. “And if they did, I don’t care. I’d do the ritual myself, just to prove to you that this burden you carry isn’t your fault.” 

You crack a grin, despite the dark topic. “Yeah? You’d try and do a circle all alone?”

“I would walk through fire for you.”

You pull your face out of his hands and shove him a bit. “Fire is your favorite element, Joshua. That’s not impressive.”

His laughter fills the room and he tugs at your hands. You grapple with him as he tries to pull you down, your ache forgotten as you laugh and squeal. “Yah! Let me try and be poetic! It was the first thing that I could think of.”

Joshua overpowers you and pulls you down against his chest. Suddenly you’re very close again, your palms pressed against his chest, the thrum of his heartbeat vibrating through your fingers. You make a surprised sound as he looks up at you, gaze a little darker. A little hazy. 

Gently, Joshua reaches up and brushes his fingers across your chin. It’s featherlight and more intimate than you expect, making you blink in surprise. You’re frozen, limbs stuck and heart racing as you watch the corner of his mouth twitch upward. Suddenly the moment feels different - this feels different. 

“You have no idea what you mean to me.”

When he says it, you don’t answer at first. You think you imagine him saying it. That suddenly this has blurred into a fantasy of yours. Perhaps you’re actually asleep, soothing your pain with dreams of Joshua. Of being like this with him, pressed closed and intimate with his gaze burning. 

“What?” you whisper back, unable to string together a better response.

He doesn’t seem offended though, huffing a laugh. “You really have no idea, huh? You’ve got that massive brain up there and you don’t even use it right.”

“I don’t…”

“You’re right, we should be practicing honesty. If we’re going to lift this block on you and let you join our circle, there can’t be secrets between us. As soon as you cast in a circle with me, you’ll see everything about me, and you deserve to not be caught off guard about what you see there.”

Your heart throbs. “What would I see, Joshua?” 

“Someone who would not only walk through fire for you, but who would burn the world down for you. I seem so nice and kind, but beneath the surface, there is a heart capable of terrible things for those I love. And I do love you. Chaotically so. Painfully so. Dangerously so.” 

“I-”

“You don’t have to love me back. I’ll never hold you to it. I just need you to know what you’ll see when we link and-”

You interrupt his rambling with a kiss. It’s brief and so quick it’s barely there. You lean away from him, heart pounding, lips parted. You’re surprised at yourself, unsure when you gained the confidence to pull a move on him. 

Joshua moves faster than you can finish your sentence. He surges forward, hands skimming up your arms roughly to cup your face and pull you down to him. His mouth is like fire, consuming and warm and sparking with heat. You feel the static shift between the two of you, his magic crackling to life as he makes a noise deep in the back of his throat. 

The slide of his plush mouth against yours makes you dizzy. He sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping slightly and you become ravenous. Your tongue brushes against his teeth and he makes a throaty sound again, opening up to let you deepen the kiss, tongue sweeping against his. He’s a slow kisser, dragging his tongue against yours and letting you fall fall fall into him. 

Joshua’s hands slide from your face down your shoulders and past them, stopping only at your hips where he squeezes. Your stomach flips at the contact and you twitch a little bit, grinding down into him as his kisses go from languid to a little needier. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, head tilting back. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you ask, mouth going to his jaw. You press wet kisses there, messy lips followed by your tongue, leaving a spit-slick trail. His skin makes your tongue tingle, magic vibrating. You grind your hips down again, rewarded with a whine. 

He slips his hands under the hem of your shirt and he digs his blunt nails into your hips. “You know what.”

Grinning, you bring your mouth up to his. Slowly, you lower your hips so you’re pressed flush to his, rolling them again, this time painfully slow. Your breath catches in your throat at the slow-drag friction, the feeling of him shivering underneath you.

“That?” you ask, breathless against his mouth. 

“Enough,” he hisses.

The world spins. Joshua grabs you and in a single, swift movement sits up and stands, carrying you with him. You squeal, hands shooting to grasp at his shoulders as he walks toward your room. He kicks his shin on the coffee table as he stumbles with you, balance off with the added weight.

He curses loudly and you can’t help but laugh, clapping a hand over your mouth when his sharp gaze snaps to yours. His eyes are dark dark, hungry and fathomless now as he raises a brow. “Yeah, you’re laughing?”

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” you admit.

“You’re gonna be.”

A wild thrill shoots through you as he carries you to the bedroom. You forget how strong he is, muscles flexing as he shifts you again, careful not to drop you. It makes you feel giddy, but you squeak in a moment of terror when he drops you unceremoniously on your bed, the brief moment of freefall startling.

You land with a huff and he grins down at you as he stands up against the edge of the bed, knees squeezing your legs together as he reaches behind his neck to yank at his t-shirt. You watch, slack-jawed as he pulls the material up and over his head.

Joshua is all gold and tan planes, body perfect in the low light of your room as he tosses his shirt. You take a second to admire his broad chest, dark nipples pebbling in the cool room. Dark hair trails from his belly button and vanishes in the waist of his jeans.

Seeking warmth, you reach for him. He leans forward, pressing his palms into the mattress to hover over you, knees placed on either side of your thighs. His muscles jump when you brush your hands up the softness of his stomach toward the harder muscle of his pecs. 

It feels like the sun is trapped underneath his skin, burning its way out of him as your fingers explore. You’ve never touched him like this, slow and reverant and full of unbridled desire. He watches you, drinking in the way you take him in. The way you take your time. 

“You’re beautiful,” you murmur, looking up at him. His ears turn red and he rolls his eyes. You grin, dragging your hand up to rest over his chest where his heart thuds wildly beneath your palm. “I mean here, idiot. Yeah you’re hot too, but you’re beautiful in here.” 

Unreadable emotion flits across his face. Something like joy and pain - the pain of wanting to hear that for so long, waiting for the admission. You understand the same pain of desire filled so unexpectedly that it hurts. 

Joshua kisses you again and this time with intent. He shifts and slides a knee between your legs, pressing up to the apex of your thighs. You groan and lift your hands, sliding them through his hair. The strands are silky soft and long. You twist your fingers at the nape of his neck, pulling him to you as the kiss turns messy.

Whatever this is between you is more magic than you’ve felt in years. You feel breathless as he kisses across your jaw and toward your neck, sucking harshly on the soft skin underneath your ear. You whine and he chuckles, hot breath hitting your ear.

“Why don’t you do that thing you love so much, hmm?” he asks, nipping your ear lobe. “Are you shy now? Don’t wanna grind on me?”

You do want to, but you hesitate. He encourages you, taking a hand and skimming down your waist to your ass, sliding under and squeezing your cheek as he lifts your hips in a motion to grind against him. The friction is good but not nearly enough and you let out a pitiful sound. 

“Come on,” he urges. “Do it right, then.”

Fuck. Fuck. 

You grind your cunt on his leg properly, planting your feet on the edge of the bed for leverage as Joshua’s mouth ravages your neck. You’re lost in him, letting your mind go a little empty as you seek friction, needing to relieve the pressure throbbing in your cunt.

Arousal gathers in your stomach and you feel yourself slow-drip into your panties, so turned on by the sudden confidence Joshua has when kissing you, when telling you to move. This is a side of him you’ve never explored and you dive in head first.

One hand leaving his hair, you grab his hand that’s on your ass as he continues to nip your collarbones, tongue laving over the sting of his bite. He lets you lead him by the wrist, and you guide his hand between your legs where you press his fingers to your zipper. 

“Please,” you rasp. “I need more.”

He sinks his teeth into the top of your right breast, tongue tasting your skin. “Is that so?”

“Please. You said you’d walk through fire for me.”

His laugh is loud and he buries his face in your chest. “Yeah,” he agrees with a chaste kiss to your kiss-bitten chest. “I did say that, huh?”

“Yes, so gimme.” 

“Anything For you.”

Years of friendship have erased any ability to feel awkward with Joshua but for a moment, you’re afraid it’ll be weird, touching one another like this. Joshua has no such qualms, unbuttoning your pants and yanking them down your legs with ease.

When he comes back up to lean over you, he doesn’t slot a knee between your legs. Instead, his fingers press firmly to your clothed cunt, a curse falling from his mouth as he feels how damp you are. You’re hot all over and yet you feel hotter still as he circles his fingers gently over your clit. 

“Fuck,” you sigh, lids fluttering closed. “Feels good.”

“You’re fucking drenched, all from a little kissing huh?”

“And grinding,” you add.

“Yeah, l remember, you little vixen.” You moan, lost in his lazy ministrations and pressure on your clit. It’s relieved some of the ache, but not nearly enough. “I can see on your face you already want more.” 

This time, Joshua doesn’t make you ask for it. He hooks a finger in your underwear and pulls them to the side. Immediately you feel cold air against you, but he’s quick to slide his fingers up and down your wet folds, slicking them up to trail back up and circle slowly around your clit.

“Damn you’re fucking wet,” he curses. He leans up a little, eyes fucked out. “Take the rest off for me, baby.”

Baby. It shivers through you and you comply, though a little haphazardly. It’s hard to remove your shirt and bra with the way his fingers are slowly pressing your clit, making you thrash and gasp. 

As soon as you lay back down, no shirt and no bra, Joshua is leaning forward, tongue darting out to flick against a stiffened nipple. You let out a loud moan and he hums in response, attaching his mouth to you and sucking. Fuck it feels good. You arch off the bed and his fingers leave your swollen clit to slide down your sticky mess to circle your entrance.

Gently, he sinks in a single finger. Your eyes roll back a little, pussy fluttering as he strokes your front wall. You’re tingling all over, buzzing with pleasure as he slowly fucks you with his finger, mouth busy plucking at your nipple with his teeth. 

You’re lost in it, melted into the bed as Joshua plays you like a well-tuned instrument. The heel of his palm presses against your clit, providing just enough pressure as he fingers you to send the room spinning on its axis. 

He tongue-kisses across your chest, mouth ravenous against your heaving gasps as he finds your other nipple. The tip of his tongue circles, making you keen and squirm underneath him. He watches you with dark eyes, teasing the aching bud before nipping you lightly. 

“Sensitive,” he mumbles, dragging spit-slicked lips against your breast. “Can you take another finger?”

You nod eagerly, hungry to be filled. Your orgasm is starting to build slowly, worked up by the way he mouths at you, by the way Joshua’s fingers reach so deep, pressing against your g-spot as he sinks another into your heat. 

“Shit,” you pant. “That feels so fucking good, Shua.”

“Mhmm.” He brings his mouth up to yours and your tongues tangle, teeth clinking together as he fucks you harder, the wet smack of your pussy against his palm loud. “Tight fucking pussy,” he pants, pressing hard against your front wall. Your heels dig into the bed as you try to keep up with the pleasure blooming in your stomach. “Gonna need to fuck you open a little if you’re gonna take me.”

If you’re gonna take me.

The promise of more has you rolling your hips up to meet his hand. He lets you fuck yourself on his fingers, dropping his gaze to look between your bodies. Your thighs and his stomach are slick with your juice, leaking around his fingers uncontrollably. 

When Joshua introduces another finger, you hiss. The stretch is hard and it burns. He doesn’t keep thrusting right away, letting your cunt stretch around his three digits. But he’s pressed up against your soft spot, making you see stars as he puts unrelenting pressure on your nerves. 

It feels like insanity, the way he does this to you. The way Joshua buries his face in your neck, your chests pressed together to provide friction against your teeth-marked nipples as he starts to build up a pace again, thrusting. 

“I’m gonna come,” you whisper, hands grabbing frantically at his sweaty shoulder blades. Your thighs are shaking and it’s hard to get a breath in. Your voice quakes as you gasp. “Fuck.”

“So come,” he says, as if it’s that simple. He puts weight behind the hand fucking you, quickens the pace. Presses so fucking hard you think you might blackout. “If you’re gonna come, then do it.” 

And you do. Just like that, nails digging into his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched, you come around his fingers. He fucks you through it, breath hot in your ear. Your knees squeeze around his hips until you’re spent, collapsing against the mattress, boneless. 

Joshua retracts his fingers. The sudden feeling of being empty makes you huff in protest and he laughs, lifting his face from your neck. You pout up at him and he kisses you again before leaning upward, straddling your legs. 

Your eyes zero in on his hands as they undo the top of his belt. His hand is covered in a wet sheen, cum-slicked and sticky. He doesn’t care, popping up the belt and pulling down the zipper of his pants. You grow eager, leaning up as he pulls the waist down, revealing the dark briefs that do nothing to hide how hard he is. 

With no warning, you reach for his clothed cock, squeezing firmly. He hisses and drops his hands, jeans only pulled halfway down his thighs. Joshua tips his head back and moans at the ceiling as you lean forward and mouth at the damp spot on his briefs, tasting him. 

“Fuck,” he swears and you grin, pressing and holding the flat of your tongue to the cloth to wet it.

You hum. Fingers dancing up his thighs, you pause at the elastic band, looking up at him through your lashes. “Can I?”

Joshua tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes half-lidded. He nods, watching and dazed as you peel the elastic down his hips slowly. You lean forward as you do, pressing a soft kiss to his hip bone. He twitches and sighs in response.

You look at his cock as it bobs against his stomach, brown tip smearing precum against his navel. You lick your lips and drag your hand up, fingers gripping his velvety shaft. He’s thick and heavy in your hand as you grasp him firmly, stroking upward. 

“Oh fuck,” he whispers, hips twitching. You grin up at him, swiping a thumb over the crown of his cock to spread the wetness down his shaft. He hums, entranced. “More.”

You don’t have to ask what he means. You lean upwards, pulling the tip of his cock toward your mouth. You slide just the tip into your mouth, suckling generously and running your tongue along the slit. His hand slips to the side of your neck, resting there but not doing anything. It’s a comforting weight as you take him in your mouth properly. 

Joshua is art above you. Chest flushed, mouth open, eyes closed. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was on his knees at worship. It is a sort of worship, the way you sink down on his cock, lips stretched wide, drool dripping down the side of your mouth and running down your jaw and neck. Is it not the spirit of loving him moving through you? Is this not heaven, looking up at him and seeing someone that has chosen you over and over again?

No pagan ritual in your life as a witch has felt like this. You swallow around him, eyes watering as you choke on his length, pulling back a little to catch your breath. Your hand squeezes him at the base, slick with your spit and his precum. Your mouth is wet and swollen as you lick the underside of his shaft, never looking away from his face.

“Fuck that mouth,” he sighs, eyes opening and looking down at you. He squeezes the side of your neck a little, fingers right against your throat. “Come on,” he murmurs. “I can’t hold out if you keep going. How do you like it?”

Instead of answering him, you pull off of him with a sloppy, wet noise. You make a show of running your tongue along your lips before turning around and crawling up the bed, wiggling your ass a little. Joshua groans as he sheds his jeans and briefs the rest of the way. 

The bed sinks when he crawls behind you. You go down on your elbows, ass up high. He smacks each cheek firmly with both hands, making you yelp as he grips the stinging flesh, squeezing. “You have a good ass.”

“It’s all those charmed cinnabons you feed me.”

He laughs loudly at that. Joshua’s hand skims down to your thighs, grabbing them and pushing them open. You sink a little lower on the bed, face pressed to the sheets and letting your eyes shut. The hair on his thighs sends a shiver up your spine as his legs brush against yours, hands roaming and squeezing your hips, your butt, your thighs.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he mutters. His hands come back over the globes of your ass and sink toward your wet cunt. You moan as his thumbs peel you open, pressing around your clenching hole. “Shit.” 

The bed bounces as he moves again and then your eyes are snapping open, fingers twisting in your sheets when you feel the flat of his tongue swipe up your pussy. He hums in delight and you’re reeling, trying to catch your breath as he licks at you.

“Just wanted a taste,” he says, more to himself than you. He sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it a few times and you nearly crumble right there at the unexpected stimulation. He slow-licks up to your hole, tracing it once before retracting his mouth. “I have all the time in the world for you to come in my mouth. Right now I just wanna feel you.”

“Yes, please.”

Your breath gets stuck when you feel the head of Joshua’s cock catch your entrance. He’s thick, and even though you’re dripping down your thighs and stretched from his fingers, the pressure of him sinking into your heat slowly sends you moaning like a wanton whore, unable to stop the sounds escaping your mouth.

Joshua is precise, hands holding your hips firmly until he’s fully seated in your cunt, your walls fluttering around him. You feel so full, his cock reaching deep enough to feel in your gut. When he pulls all the way out, you think something is wrong, but he fucks back into you hard.

“Oh shit,” you gasp, feeling the full weight of him spear you. “Holy shit.”

He doesn’t say anything but he grunts, setting a slow but deep pace. His hips snap into you with force, your knees spreading a little bit wider. He leans into it more, moving his hands to press into the small of your back. The full force of his weight pushing your hips into the bed as he slams into you makes you dizzy. 

An orgasm starts to build deep in your stomach. You claw at the bed, breaths coming out in a hiss. Joshua grabs one of your hands, pulling it backward to pin it against your lower back before doing the same to the other. You’re completely pinned under him, pushed so far into the mattress you think you might fade and vanish into foam and sheets. 

Nothing here matters but the way he fucks into you, unrelenting, heavy, precise. He says your name and it rolls off his tongue sweeter than any pastry he’s ever made. Your orgasm creeps up on you, shaking and thunderous. It feels stronger than before, a pressure that makes you start to shiver, feet kicking under him.

For a moment, he slows, pulling off you a little. “Okay?”

“Keep going,” you beg him, voice high-pitched and strange to your ears. “Please don’t stop, I’ll tell you if I can’t take it.”

That’s all he needs. He redoubles and this time, changes his direction, hits that spot inside of you head on with his cock and you think you’re going to pass out. You become lifeless under him, unable to do anything but take it. The wave of your orgasm builds and builds and builds until finally, it breaches. 

You come for a second time, no noise coming out of you. It’s all white vision and squeezed thighs and ringing ears. You think you feel something like a bolt of lightning, a snap of power so strong as you clench around Joshua that you taste static in the air. 

It’s hard to know how long it lasts. One moment you’re shaking and the next, you’re drifting, feeling weightless and exhausted. The weight of Joshua’s touch keeps you tethered and from straying too far, but you’re somewhere in between nonetheless. 

Slowly, reality drips back to you. You think you may have dozed a little, your eyes dry as you blink them open. Joshua is lying next to you, arm wrapped around you and eyes closed. He’s not breathing deep enough to be asleep, confirming it when his eyes open, sensing your gaze.

A smile lights up his face and you smile tiredly at him. Your cunt aches and your legs and arms are sore from being pinned, and you’re still a little shaky. Thoughts of your orgasm make you twitch, post-sex tremors that you can’t escape.

“Hi,” you rasp. “Did I fall asleep?”

“I think you blacked out.”

“I- what?” 

“I sort of…” he frowns. “There was like this electrical snap when I came. You clenched me so fucking hard I just… let go. I think we sort of had a magical orgasm.”

“A magical orgasm.”

He grins. “Just say thank you for the witch orgasm.”

“Ugh.” You smack his chest and he laughs hoarsely. 

It did feel like that though. Like a crackle of energy, like being struck by a storm of electricity and heat. You feel tired and heavy-limbed, but you feel sticky and sweaty too. “I need a shower.”

“Mhmm. I was waiting for you to come to.” He starts to sit up. “Come on, I’ll shower you. Then we need to sleep. We have to prepare you for your big day.”

“My big day?”

Joshua grins as he reaches a hand for you. There’s a spark again when you touch and you hesitate, feeling the well of his magic there. It hums in him, a thunderhead of power and fire. He sees your expressions and softens. “You can’t hurt me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Baby, I just fucked you until you blacked out, and you know what you didn’t do?” Your brows pull together and he smiles. “You didn’t pull an ounce of my magic from me. I think you’re a lot better at control than you think you are.”

Licking your lips, you nod and let him pull you from bed. You are good at control. You had to be after your sister. It’s something you’ve practiced nonstop, the unconscious control of your desire for magic. Even when you sleep, you wake up often, fearful of losing your grip on yourself while you slumber.

It hasn’t happened yet. And as Joshua leads you to the shower, you think… maybe it never will. Especially if the ritual goes right. Especially if you can get your magic back. 

Perhaps for the first time since you were thirteen, you feel a sliver of hope. When you look at Joshua and you feel your heart stutter, you know that even without your magic, you’ve found something.

-

“Oh for the love of the land,” Jihoon groans when you appear in the basement of Joshua’s home. “Look at the two of you.”

Everyone swivels to look at you and Joshua, who are hand-in-hand. You freeze, pulling up short to take in the candle-lit room and the other men who are all looking at you with equal parts happiness and a little bit of amusement.

You shift from foot to foot and chew your lip. Suddenly you want to turn tail and run back up the stairs and away from the watchful eyes of your friends - of Joshua’s coven members. But Joshua holds your hand tight, tugging you down the rest of the stairs into the gloom of the room.

Perhaps gloom isn’t the right word. The room is much too warm and smells of sage and thyme, a good feeling if not a little overwhelming. Outside this house, there is an entire festival going on at the park. The covenstead witches were furious when Joshua let them know that he and his members would not be participating this year, as they had private matters to attend to.

It’s common for covens to use the holiday for something specific. Perhaps to bless a witch in need, or to strengthen a spell, or to defeat some evil. You remember that night that your parents left you alone for Beltane duties to fight and remove Dissenters, and how that turned out for you.

Magic hums all around you. It’s in the sigils on the ceiling of Joshua’s sanctum and it’s in the ley lines that you can feel now more than ever as the veil between worlds thins. Each member of the coven has magic humming in their veins, a sort of signature taste and feel to it. You sense Jihoon’s deep shadows and Seungcheol’s vibrant green, taste Jeonghan’s clean water and feel Junhui’s pure air. Minghao and Joshua are the flickering flame that fills the room with light and heat, and Chan’s crackling storm greets you in the corner.

It’s hard to imagine where you fit in with them. But they don’t have a blood witch, who is all of these things wrapped into one. You know that they support you. All of you have gone over the ritual what feels like a hundred times at this point, perfecting it and making sure you know it inside and out.

The two rituals are wildly different. One to seek and find the source of your pain, led by Jihoon and Junhui. Jihoon’s shadows and connection to the other side will help seek answers and provide clarity on whatever signs and hints come through the vision you’re supposed to have, and Junhui’s strength with air will help keep you protected and clear of any negative energy.

Then, a small spell to build a bridge between the two rituals that Seungcheol will handle with Jeonghan. Seungcheol has it down to a science and has previously used it to link spells, and his affinity for earth will ground the entire circle. Jeonghan’s skill with water is to help guide you from ritual to ritual with ease and clarity. 

It’s the second half of the ritual that’s the most demanding, which is why it’s Minghao and Chan conducting the destructive half, breaking whatever stands between you and your magic. Two warriors meant to sever your block or the target of your curse, whichever it may be.

And it’s possible that you’re cursed. You have briefly spoken about what that means. About what to do. It will most likely mean something damaging and life-threatening for whoever did curse you, if you forcefully try to shatter it instead of finding the cause. 

But there’s also potential for you to be harmed if the two of them try to break it and it’s too strong. It’s a risk that you have to assess in the moment, which is terrifying. You want to do it anyway, and you’re happy to find that they support you. That they’re there for you.

Coven members already, really. 

All of them are dressed to perform a ritual. Dark robes, anointed element symbols in dark ash on their brows. Jihoon has a small circlet around his head, making you pause and tilt your head as you glance at Joshua. He sees your confusion and smiles. “Jihoon is our high priest tonight,” he murmurs. “He will start and end the circle so I can be here with you.”

Jihoon is blushing and looking up at the ceiling when you turn back to him. For him to step up and hold the circle as the beginning and end is a huge risk on him. He’ll be providing the most magic and taking on the most risk second only to you, all so that Joshua can move freer and have more control.

“Jihoon is a very powerful witch, as you know,” Joshua murmurs, steering you to the center of the room. “He holds circles for a lot of our rituals when we feel he’s better suited.” 

“Which is often,” Jihoon mutters at the ceiling where he keeps his gaze. 

“Yah, shut up, hag. Everyone get in their places.”

Joshua puts you in the very center of the room. There is a pentagram chalked in powder, but there is no glow to it, no light to signal that it’s being used. He squeezes your shoulders and you look at him, wide eyed and afraid. His smile is warm and a little nervous, but he leans in and kisses you once.

“Trust us,” he says. “This will be hard on you. But we’ve got you.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t break the circle,” he reminds you. “If you have to break, do it when Seungcheol is at the middle part and before we start the second ritual. He will open the circle a little, but it’ll be just for a moment before the second is started and locked.”

“Right. Ten second escape if I need to.”

“You only have that window if we need to stop. Once we start the second, there is no stopping until the full ritual is complete.”

“Got it.”

“Good luck,” Joshua whispers and kisses you on the brow. “I’ll be right here.”

With a deep breath, he steps to the side and grasps your hand. The two of you stand alone in the middle, you and your anchor. Silence settles over the room. You haven’t been in the middle of a circle since you were a little girl receiving her first welcome into the coven. You had done that with your sister by your side and your mother at the head of the circle.

Now, you’re with Joshua, with Jihoon at the head of the circle. Jihoon doesn’t really make eye contact with you, but you sense his calming aura even from where he stands at the first point of the circle. He rolls his shoulders and closes his eyes, lifting his palms upward. “I stand at north, the beginning and end, start this circle, spirit ascend.”

You feel the ripple of magic in the room. Fire crackles at Jihoon’s feet, making you flinch. You watch as the red flames lick toward Junhui, who is quick and light as he murmurs, “I stand northeast, to cleanse and protect, continue the circle, spirit to the next.”

You watch the flame as it sparks to life, moving clockwise around the room. Every time a member joins the circle, you feel the power thrum through the room, the pentagram beneath your feet beginning to glow. The flame comes all the way back around to Jihoon and he closes it, eyes opening and looking right at you.

Jihoon looks different than before, eyes shadowed and full of stars. “Begin,” he commands, voice like a thousand whispers. 

A little spike of fear goes through you as Junhui begins to chant. You recognize the Latin immediately but your unpracticed ears lose trace of the meaning. It’s picked up slowly in the room and you feel your palms slick with sweat as the light of the pentagram pulses beneath your feet, the flames flickering around the feet of the coven members.

Jihoon’s voice picks up the chant like you’ve never heard him before. It’s uncanny and you lean into Joshua, who squeezes your hand and looks down at you.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “This happens when he leads a circle. Veil is thin.”

Nodding your head, you turn to the front again, feeling the itch to pull power from the circle, to draw their magic into you. There’s so much of it filling the room, an open tap of water spilling into the sink. You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, worried that you won’t be able to resist, worried that you’re going to pull from the magic and-

A wave of dizziness hits you. You gasp and bend over, hand circling your middle as though you’ve just been punched. Joshua’s hands are on your back but you can’t hear him, a high-pitched ringing drowning out the sound of his voice. For a second, you’re lost in the sensation of having the air sucked from your lungs and the whine in your ears getting higher and higher.

Just when you think that your ear drums will burst, the ringing stops. There is a hushed whisper filling your ears and you still can’t catch your breath. The room spins a little and when you look up expecting to see Jihoon, all you see is dark trees and a blurry shadowy… building. Something. 

The whispers creep up on you. There are so many of them, hundreds - no, thousands - of voices brushing against you, dragging their fingers along your skin, touching you, hissing, singing, screaming. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced and their words are jumbled, sliding over one another.

Terror begins to claw at you. You try to remain calm, remembering that these are not the voices of spirits or something evil. Junhui is commanding this ritual, an element of purity and guidance. He won’t let anything bad happen to you.

With faith in your future coven member, you try to focus on the voices. Try to decode them. Seungcheol warned you that the messaging might be confusing. That you might not follow or understand what it’s saying. Symbols, images, key words. You need to reach for anything that seems like something, that can point to the origin of your block and follow it. 

Jihoon’s presence presses at the back of your mind. It startles you at first, to feel who you know is innately Jihoon. You follow the press of whatever he’s doing and you catch a few words that fly by you: little hut little hut. Little hut little hut. Little hut little hut. 

Unsure what it means, you cling to that. Little hut. It means something… you remember something about it. Jihoon’s presence fades away, satisfied that you’ve picked up on whatever it is he sees or senses. 

Flipping through memories, you try to remember why a hut might mean anything to you. There were no huts by your town… nothing that you can remember no one you know of. 

Little hut, little hut.

One memory sticks with you. Your sister playing in the background, hopscotching to a little tune that Mila down the street whispered to her about a witch in the woods. 

Little hut, little hut

Hidden in the wood

Little hut, little hut

Up to no good

Yes, you think. A rhyme about a witch who lived in the woods. More thing than witch, really. A shadowy being that took the shape of a hut, a creature of magic and curses that could be found in the darkest part of the woods when the veil is thin. 

Little hut, little hut

Alone in the gloom

Little hut, little hut

Silent as a tomb

You see it now. The blurry shape of a house that’s not really a house. The witch in the wood was a blood witch once, it was said. A witch who had long since dissented and practiced arcane magic, following a path that led her here. That led her to this. A thing of the woods. 

It occurs to you the weight of the appearance of her. This hut in the woods. Jihoon’s flippant remark about you being cursed is suddenly real.

Dread drops down in your stomach like a weight. You can’t hear anything beyond the rhyme, the chant to find the witch of the woods. You’re cursed, you realize. All the fear that your condition was self-inflicted, that it was your fault, that this was something you did. 

This is something that happened to you, Joshua had said.

And he was right. Someone cursed you - did this to you. A child. 

Out there in the world, there is someone responsible for the death of your sister. Someone who took your magic, who turned you into a leech. The reason for your family's pain, the reason for them throwing you away. For your father and mother being driven mad, for the town turning against you.

You think about the rock that hit you just days ago. Thrown by a child taught to hate you. Taught that it was okay to hurt you because it was you. The town siphoner. A witch who couldn’t make her own magic, a parasite. 

Anger wells up inside of you and you latch onto the rhyme swirling around your head, clawing through it. This is the thread you must follow to find your curse giver. This is the clue.

Little hut, little hut

Across the dark stream

Little hut, little hut

Wait for the scream

Dully, you are aware that Joshua is next to you. You see him from the corner of your eye but it’s not Joshua at all. Well - not as you now know him. This Joshua is younger - a teenager by the looks of it. He’s not doing anything except staring out into the darkness. He fades in and out like a bad TV picture, glitching and blurring. But you know it’s him. 

His face is different though. Twisted in grief and pain, a frozen picture of angst. You imagine this is what you looked like when your sister died, a tableau of hurt and hate. 

Little hut, little hut

I call to thee

Little hut, little hut

Come to me

The Joshua in front of you fades away. You reach out for him but your hands cut through empty air and darkness. He’s not really there and you have a hard time grasping the meaning of this. The voice sounds almost like Joshua but not quite. Not as mature. 

Young Joshua doesn’t show up again. You can feel the real Joshua somewhere in the mess of the vision and the darkness, but you can’t hear him. Can’t see him. There is only the omnipresent darkness of the hut and the whispers of voices. 

Little hut, little hut

Hear my strife

Little hut, little hut

Ruin this life 

There’s a flash of lightning. A storm in the darkness, splashes of purple and blue electricity. You cover your eyes as you hear thunder, low and soft somewhere. Across from you, your sister appears. She’s a fraternal twin who looks nothing like you except in the eyes. Your eyes look right back at you.

She’s the same age she was when she died. When you took her magic away. When you were cursed. She looks the same age as the apparition of Joshua, and you try to understand. To make the connection from what you're seeing as the lightning lances again like it did that fateful night.

The rhyme keeps circling in a hurricane of whispers. 

As the ritual comes to a close, the vision begins to fade. You’re no better off than where you started and in a panic, you reach for the vision of your sister. You just want to hold her one last time, to feel the warmth of her skin.

But she isn’t real and she fades as Junhui’s chanting falls to a murmur and then to a whisper, the air returning to normal. You can breathe again, and as you look up from where you’re bent over, you see Joshua kneeling on the ground in front of you, holding you by the shoulders. His face is swimming with fear and concern, gaze searching.

Joshua looks so much like his younger self. He’s matured into his face and is a handsome man, but he was a cute teenager. His face now is full of love and concern, but you think about his face in your vision. Twisted in pain and years. 

Little hut, little hut

Hear my strife

Little hut, little hut

Ruin this life 

You straighten up suddenly, knocking him over on his ass as you do so. It feels like you’ve been slapped as you stare at him, a sudden buzz in your ears as you stare and stare and stare. The ritual comes to an end and Seungcheol opens the circle - a foot in the door, more like - and begins to start his spell for Minghao and Chan to weave the new ritual into the circle. 

Without thinking about it, you dash for the edge of the circle. Joshua yells but you’re fast, surging between Seungcheol and Jeonghan where the door exists. Seungcheol’s head snaps to look at you, eyes wide and mouth open.

“Close it and close the circle,” you pant. 

“I-”

“Close the fucking circle!”

All eyes turn to you. They hesitate for a moment, the flames around them wavering. You can feel the power licking at their heels and something like rage shudders through you. You don’t know where to channel it yet and you begin to pace as Seungcheol recloses the circle and turns to Jihoon. 

Slowly, Jihoon begins to finish the ritual. They work backward from Jihoon to Chan to Minghao to Jeonghan. You don’t look at them, wringing your hands as you pace back and forth, heart reaching a wild beat. 

Images fly by. The hut, the whispers, Joshua’s face, the thunderstorm, your sister. 

The narrative isn’t straightforward. You don’t quite understand the rhyme, or its function, but the second half sounds bad, sounds perhaps like a plea. A bargain. A need for a curse. You recall the thunderstorm on the night of Beltane, the way your sister watched with wide eyes while you sought her out. You think of Joshua’s affinity for fire and storms, the way he can command thunder just by being upset. You think of his face, so full of pain and hate. 

Finally, they finish the circle. Joshua rushes to you, hands outstretched and a question on his mouth but you jerk away from him. 

“Did you curse someone?” you demand, making him pull up short. He opens and closes his mouth. The silence in the room is deafening. You can hear your own heartbeat, pulse throbbing in your ears. “Joshua, did you curse someone?”

“I… what does that have to do with-”

“Little hut, little hut. Hear my strife. Little hut, little hut. Ruin this life.” 

Three things happen then. The first is Joshua’s confusion as he shakes his head, lost as to why you’re repeating a rhyme back to him. Then a flicker of memory followed by the drain of color on his face. He straightens up, blanched and shakes his head back and forth as he takes a step away from you.

“No,” he says and takes another step back. “That’s not right, I didn’t curse you.”

“What did you do?” 

“I didn’t curse you,” he says again. He seems lost in it though, like he’s saying it to himself. Jihoon takes a step toward Joshua and he holds out a hand, warding Jihoon off. “I cursed the witches responsible for killing my parents. I didn’t curse you.” 

“You cursed someone?” Minghao hisses from across the circle. “And you never thought to mention it in preparation for this?”

“Shut up, Minghao,” Joshua snaps. “I didn’t curse her. I did go into the woods that night to find the hut witch and I cursed the people responsible for killing my parents. I didn’t even know you then.” 

“Did you give a name? What did you say?” 

“I didn’t know their names!” He answers, frantic and looking at you pleadingly. “I didn’t - no. I remember it, I shared my blood with her, to show the memory. I saw their faces, but I didn’t know their names. We were -” his voice cracks and he clutches his hands against his chest, tears in his eyes. “I was so afraid when they came. We’d been going from town to town, trying to get away. My parents wanted to go back home, overseas. We just had to get there and then these witches, they came and blew down the door and they killed them.”

“So you cursed them based on a memory?”

“Yes,” he insists. “Baby, I didn’t curse you. How could I? How would I?”

Little hut, little hut

Hear my strife

Little hut, little hut

Ruin this life 

“Joshua.” You say his full name, voice ringing and calmer than you feel. Your stomach is in knots and you feel your mouth water, hinting at the nausea working its way up your throat. “Did you ask the blood witch in the hut to ruin the lives of the witches who killed your parents?”

“Yes.”

“Were your parents Dissenters killed on the night of Beltane?”

A long stretch of silence takes up the space between you. You stare at Joshua and he becomes a stranger. Become another person on the street that looks at you with hate. Another face in the dozens of the town who don’t care if you exist. 

When Joshua says nothing, it means everything. The final piece of information slots its way in and you feel like you’re going to crack open like an egg and spill out. Gooey and yolk-yellow. 

“That was why there was a storm,” you whisper. “Because you were angry and upset, wherever it was that you were. And you cursed my family. Not my parents. Our entire family. That’s why I lost my magic and siphoned my sister to death. That’s why my parents were driven to madness and their eventual end. It’s why everyone hates me. You cursed me with ruin.”

“I…” Joshua shakes his head but can’t make the words come out. 

There is no way out now. You get everything picture perfect for the first time. It’s the perfect curse, really. Driving your family to ruin in different ways. Pushing you, the final member of the family, to the person you would eventually fall in love with, to the person that cursed you.

You turn and run. He tries to run after you but someone stops him. He has his coven to comfort him for what he’s done and you have nothing and no one. Just how you started. 

Your runaway is messy. Tripping over thresholds, slipping down stairs. Night stretches over the world and the air is thrumming with energy. You think it would be so easy to tap into, to take and take and take the magic around you that echoes from the Beltane festivals. Would anyone even notice if you took a little?

Still, you don’t. Hot tears blind you as you stumble into the woods behind Joshua’s house. It’s not the best shortcut when you’re distraught and overcome with tears, but you think you can get to your apartment building by memory alone. 

Around you, the world grows darker and quieter. Eventually, all you can hear is your ragged breathing and sniffling as the tears freefall. Something prickles on your skin and you slow your tangled escape to look around you.

The woods are unfamiliar. At least, they seem darker and hazier, like you’re somewhere that looks like the woods behind Joshua’s house but isn't quite right. You’re more careful as you move forward, one foot in front of the other. 

A breeze cools the back of your neck. It makes you shiver, feeling more like a finger running down your spine than the actual wind. A whisper of noise wisps by you and you stop, frowning. Trying to grasp the words as they float by, indiscernible. 

You start walking again, following the sound of a voice that is always just a little too far ahead. A little too soft spoken for you to make out the words. When you do manage to catch up, you hear a soft little rhyme. 

Little hut, little hut

Hidden in the wood

Little hut, little hut

Up to no good

Little hut, little hut

Alone in the gloom

Little hut, little hut

Silent as a tomb

Little hut, little hut

Across the dark stream

Little hut, little hut

Wait for the scream

Something like a high-pitched wail rings out behind you. Your limbs lock and goosebumps explode over your arms and legs as you slowly crane your neck to look in the direction that you came. There’s no clear path, just tangled trees and darkness. 

A soft buzz tingles along your skin. You sense the magic, static that you can’t hear but you can feel and taste on your tongue. Slowly, you turn back to face the direction you’re walking. There is a tiny little stream in front of you, trickling and black.

Carefully, you step over it. Your hands quake. Sweat gathers on the nape of your neck and your upper lip, your mouth trembling as you see the vague shape of a hut. Or perhaps it's just the idea of a hut, with a hole for a door that looks endless. Void. Dark. 

You think about your sister. See her face swimming in front of you, so full of life. Then it drains of color as you bleed her dry and steal everything from her. Every drop, turning her from a beautiful girl full of the sun and the sky into a husk. 

You clench your fists. 

Vengeance can’t bring her back. Vengeance can’t make them love you. But it can take away this fucking hurt inside of you, the pain that you have carried for so long that it feels like a wound that will never close. So you decide to take a page out of Joshua’s book.

“Little hut, little hut,” you whisper, voice shaking. “Feel my ache. Little hut, little hut, make him break.” 

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[muiitoloko]

Omg the fluff severus being a father!! Can we also get a fic where he and his wife discover they are having twins? In my mind palace that poor man had the happiest ending idc idc

Title: Double the Love

Summary: Severus and you learn that you’re having twin, and Severus faces the overwhelming realization that fatherhood will be double the challenge—and double the love.

Pairing: Severus Snape × Fem! Reader

Warnings: None.

Author's Notes: I absolutely loved writing this! But I have to admit, I was seriously wondering, how on earth do wizards even do ultrasounds? 😅 Since I couldn’t figure that one out, I just made it as magical and slightly ridiculous as possible, because why not, right? 😅 It’s a short piece, but I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

First, Second and Third part here.

Also read on Ao3

The sterile white walls of St. Mungo’s were a far cry from the dimly lit, comforting darkness of the Hogwarts dungeons, and the bustling noise of Healers moving in and out of rooms only added to your nerves. You lay on the hospital bed, your hands resting on your growing belly, feeling the faint fluttering of movement within. At 22 weeks pregnant, today was the day you would find out the sex of your baby.

You glanced over at Severus, who sat beside you with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression as stoic as ever. He wasn’t exactly the picture of calm, though you knew him well enough to recognize the subtle tension in the way his jaw tightened and the way his long, slender fingers tapped against his arm. He was just as anxious as you, though he would never admit it.

The memory of last night brought a small smile to your face. You had caught him at his desk, a quill in hand, scribbling something on a piece of parchment with a concentration usually reserved for complex potion-making. When you peeked over his shoulder, you were both surprised and amused to find a list of baby names—both for boys and girls.

“Trying to choose a worthy name, Severus?” you had teased, leaning against the back of his chair.

He had glanced up at you, his expression unreadable but a faint blush creeping up his neck. “A name is important,” he had replied curtly. “It must be fitting. I won’t have our child saddled with something… inadequate.”

You had laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I trust you’ll find the perfect one.”

Now, as you waited for the Healer to arrive, the memory of that moment helped calm your nerves a little. Severus might be intimidating and stern on the surface, but beneath all that, he was already a devoted father—one who was taking the task of naming your child with the same seriousness he applied to everything else in life.

“Are you nervous?” you asked softly, your hand reaching out to rest on his knee.

Severus glanced down at your hand, his dark eyes softening ever so slightly. “Nervous? Hardly,” he replied, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness. “But I do wish this process would hurry along.”

You chuckled, knowing full well that was his way of admitting that he, too, was anxious. “Don’t worry, Severus. I’m sure the Healer will be here soon, and we’ll find out if we’re having a boy or a girl.”

He nodded, though his expression remained neutral. “Either way,” he said quietly, “the child will be exceptional.”

Before you could respond, the door opened, and a cheerful Healer stepped inside, her robes swishing around her as she smiled at you both. “Good afternoon!” she greeted, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “I hear we’re ready to check on the little one?”

You nodded, sitting up slightly as she prepared the equipment. Severus remained seated, though his gaze followed every movement the Healer made with an intensity that might have unnerved a lesser witch.

“All right, let’s take a look,” the Healer said, positioning her wand over your belly. The gentle hum of magic filled the room as the spell illuminated the area, and you watched in awe as the image of your baby appeared on the enchanted screen.

Severus leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied the image with the same level of scrutiny he used when examining a particularly difficult potion.

“There we are,” the Healer said softly. “And… oh!���

Your heart skipped a beat at her sudden exclamation, and you shot her a nervous glance. “What is it?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

The Healer’s smile widened, and she turned the screen so that both you and Severus could see it more clearly. “It appears you’re not having just one baby,” she said, her tone filled with excitement. “You’re having two! Twins!”

For a moment, the room was utterly silent. You stared at the screen, your mind struggling to process the words. Twins. Two babies. You glanced over at Severus, expecting to see some kind of reaction, but he was still as a statue, his dark eyes fixed on the screen. His usual calm exterior had been shattered by the news, and you could see the shock written all over his face.

"Twins?" he repeated, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Two?"

The Healer nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, two healthy little girls, from what I can see. Congratulations!"

Severus blinked slowly, his mind clearly racing as he tried to absorb the information. “Two girls,” he murmured, almost to himself. You watched him carefully, waiting for his response, but it seemed like he was still in a state of shock.

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing. “Two girls, Severus! We’re going to have two daughters!”

Severus slowly turned to look at you, his expression a mix of disbelief and what could only be described as mild horror. “Two daughters,” he repeated, his voice flat. “Two sets of diapers. Two mouths to feed. Two…”

“Two future boyfriends,” you teased, unable to resist poking fun at him. “You’re going to have to keep an eye on them, Daddy Snape.”

At that, Severus paled even further, his eyes widening as the full weight of what you had just said hit him. “Future boyfriends?” he muttered, his voice tinged with dread. “I hadn’t… considered that.”

The image of Severus Snape dealing with teenage boys showing up at your door to take his daughters out on dates was too much, and you laughed even harder, clutching your belly as the joy of the moment overwhelmed you.

Severus stood frozen, the image of two tiny forms flickering on the screen in front of him. The words still echoed in his mind: two girls. He blinked, his dark eyes wide with shock, as the reality of it sank in. Two daughters. Two daughters. The healer’s voice faded into the background as his imagination took off, propelled by the unrelenting force of his overprotective instincts.

He could almost see it—boys knocking on his door at Hogwarts, their foolish, eager faces trying to charm their way past him to court his daughters. His daughters. His mind raced, spinning out scenarios of teenage boys chasing after them in the corridors, their idiotic grins widening as they tried to impress with foolish stunts or—worse—terrible jokes. What if one of his daughters dated an idiot? Or Merlin forbid, someone like Potter?

No! The thought alone was enough to send a surge of panic through him. His face, usually so composed, paled visibly.

“Severus?” Your voice, soft and filled with emotion, broke through the haze. You had grabbed his arm, your eyes shining with tears—tears of joy, not fear. “Two girls, Severus,” you whispered, pulling him into a tight hug, your hands trembling as they wrapped around him. “We’re going to have two beautiful little girls.”

Severus blinked, returning to the present as he felt your warmth against him, your joy flooding over him. His arms, stiff at first, slowly circled around you, holding you close. He could feel the tremor in your breath as you buried your face in his chest, your tears dampening the fabric of his robes.

Two little girls. The words echoed in his mind again, but this time the image was softer—more intimate. He could see it now: two girls with your smile, your laugh, your bright eyes full of curiosity and mischief. They would have your warmth, your kindness—your fire.

He held you a little tighter, knowing how emotional you had been these past few days, and a wave of tenderness washed over him. His thumb gently brushed your shoulder, a small gesture of comfort.

“Two girls,” you whispered again, your voice breaking with joy, and he could hear the love in your words. “Double the love, Severus.”

Severus closed his eyes, resting his chin on top of your head, letting the moment settle around him. His heart swelled, a strange and unfamiliar feeling, yet it was not unwelcome. The weight of it, the sheer enormity of the love that was building inside him, was overwhelming. He had never expected this—any of this. He had never thought that someone like him would be capable of this kind of happiness.

The healer’s voice floated back into his awareness. “Would you like pictures of the babies?” she asked, her tone gentle.

Snape nodded without hesitation, his gaze still fixed on the screen, where the tiny forms of their daughters moved faintly, their lives just beginning. He looked down at you again, still holding him, still crying softly with joy. His hand found the small of your back, steady and reassuring.

Two little girls.

He could almost see them in his mind’s eye—two mini versions of you, with your delicate features, your bright personality, and your fierce determination. He allowed himself, for the briefest moment, to imagine them laughing and playing, their voices filling the halls of Hogwarts. And him… there, watching over them, protecting them from anything that might dare to harm them.

A small, uncertain smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he thought about it—two little yous. His chest tightened at the thought, but then a new fear crept in. What if they looked like him?

He swallowed hard, his mind immediately racing back to his own school days. His hooked nose. The way he had been mocked and ridiculed. The cruel taunts, the laughter, the sneers. He didn’t want that for them. He didn’t want his daughters to suffer the same way he had.

“What are you thinking?” your voice broke through his dark thoughts. You had pulled back just enough to look up at him, your eyes searching his face. “You’ve gone quiet.”

Severus hesitated, his hand resting protectively on your belly. “I was…” He cleared his throat, the words catching slightly before he forced them out. “I was hoping… that they’ll look like you.”

You blinked in surprise, then smiled softly, a knowing look crossing your face. “Severus,” you said gently, cupping his cheek with your hand. “They’ll be beautiful no matter what. Whether they look like you or me.”

He looked down at you, his eyes clouded with uncertainty. “I don’t want them to suffer… like I did.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, and you shook your head, pulling him closer again. “They won’t,” you whispered fiercely, pressing your lips to his chest. “Because they’ll have you. They’ll have us. And we’ll make sure they know how loved they are.”

Snape stood there for a long moment, simply holding you, feeling the warmth of your words seep into him, dispelling the old fears. As he looked back at the image of their daughters on the screen, a sense of peace settled over him. Two girls. Two daughters. His family.

Our family.

And for the first time in his life, Severus Snape allowed himself to believe that he could truly have something this good, this pure. Two little girls with your smile. And even if they did have his nose… well, they would still be perfect.

[juleshollow]

Scarlet Hollow's soundtrack

I need to write about this game’s music, especially since I don’t see much praise about it when it’s clearly due.

From the start, I’ve loved the opening song – so much so that I usually wait a few minutes on the title screen before playing just so I can listen to it. I think the song is perfect for the game, it sets just the right atmosphere. I don’t know how to explain it (especially not in English), but it sounds like Scarlet Hollow. Like it transports me to the town. I’m there, surrounded by woods and mystery. I love it so so so much.

It's because of this song that I checked if the soundtrack of the game was on Spotify, and it is! Cool! So I’ve been listening to it while I work. Brandon Boone did amazing.

I’ve actually discovered something that surprised me while listening to the playlist. It turns out that every character has their own song, when I was mistakenly associating their music to a scenario or mood. Like I thought that Avery’s theme was the diner’s theme, and Sybil’s was the music you hear when there’s a moment of particular tension and mystery (makes sense). It seems obvious now that I think about it, but I don’t know if I would have realised had I not paid attention to the name of each track.

Which leads me to! How amazing the music is! Now that I know that the characters have their own themes, I can tell how well they fit them. Just like the opening song is perfect for the game (for the town, for Scarlet Hollow), the characters' songs tell you a lot about them. Let me list some stuff I’ve thought about while listening:

Tabitha - low and slow, it sounds guarded, like it’s keeping secrets. It’s mysterious and a little ominous (I originally thought it was the mansion’s theme – it even has a few piano notes and they remind me of the faint piano you hear in the forbidden area of the state on the first day). In the second half of the song, they introduce a higher-pitched melody. It sounds softer, more vulnerable to me. It shows that Tabitha has a delicate side you can stick around to find, I think.

Stella - it sounds very melancholic, which is surprising for a character that positive and energetic (you come to find out why it actually suits her). I don’t know the name of the sound that starts at 1:09, but it’s very UFO/alieny. Kinda points to her search of the supernatural. At first I thought this was the “intimate moment theme”, which makes sense with how close and personal you can get with Stella very early on. Like she needs the intimacy, even if she keeps some stuff hidden.

Avery - synths (which Avery plays! Nice!), a steady percussion beat and electric guitar: smooth, chill, cool all around. And then from 1:43, higher-pitched notes that sound oh so sweet and hopeful.

Kaneeka - starts so soft and peaceful and promptly turns into full-on detective music. Like this is the sountrack of an active investigation. This woman is thinking, she's digging out data because she's super smart. And something about the sounds they chose feels very “technological” to me (if you’ve played Sly Cooper, it reminds me of Bentley’s hacker mini games!), very machines and buttons and science. Why does that matter? Because it’s all so realistic! Kaneeka sounds like the reasonable explanation she’s looking for.

Oscar - sounds like the start of a new day in a videogame, like "6.00am theme". Sunrise, the lazy early morning. Cozy, good.

Reese - pure anticipation, you spend the whole song waiting – something sinister is coming. It’s cool that there are some industrial sounds in there, which Reese supposedly likes.

Duke - slow and sure like an old man. And that slide on the strings is so country, baby.

Sybil - secrets, possible lies. She knows more than you. I need to compare it to Kaneeka’s theme because Sybil sounds like a mystery while her daughter sounds like an investigation. Also, if Kaneeka gives a scientific vibe, Sybil gives off magic – from 2:23 it gets very Hogwarts chimes and bells or whatever. It’s magic vs. logic!

Anyway, I think the soundtrack can make or break a game and this one is fantastic. It really contributes to making the whole experience more immersive. So great job and thank you so much to Brandon Boone 👍 Especially “Scarlet Hollow”, the opening theme, my favourite. Listening to it already makes me nostalgic and brings back the feelings I experienced playing the game, which is exactly what makes a soundtrack great, to me.

[zeroseuniverse]

so i read your skz figuring out their partner got a singing voice and i ate it up, but what about rapping. like rap god, nissan altima type rap or if your feeling spunky denial is a river conversational rap shit. and like, the reader BODIES the song, bar for bar, literally knows it like they made the song themselves

obviously i 110% understand if you wouldn’t want to do this due to its repetitive nature with the singing prompt, but idk im js more into flowy rap music instead of belty songs and i was js pondering

Stray Kids Reacting to Their S/O Secretly Being an Insane Rapper

Bang Chan

Chan’s working on a beat in the studio, absentmindedly humming when you suddenly start rapping along to a song at full speed. He stops everything. The track is still playing, but he’s just staring at you, mouth slightly open. "Hold on. HOLD ON. Since when—HELLO?" He rewinds the beat, pointing at you. "Do it again. I need to confirm that wasn’t a fluke." Once you go off again, he’s convinced. Immediate producer mode activated. He’s already layering adlibs in his head. "We’re making a song. This is non-negotiable."

Lee Know

Minho’s driving when you absentmindedly start rapping, barely paying attention to how flawlessly you’re hitting every syllable. He, however, nearly forgets how to operate the vehicle. "You’re joking." He looks at you, then back at the road, then back at you, blinking in disbelief. "Am I dating a rapper and I didn’t know?" Plays it cool but is secretly so impressed that he’s replaying the song just to hear you go off again. Later, you catch him trying to match your flow when he thinks you're not listening.

Changbin

You’re both hyping each other up to a rap song when you suddenly go off—full speed, no stumbles, perfect delivery. Changbin, mid-rhyme, chokes on air. "WAIT. TIME OUT." He physically grabs your arm, eyes wide. "WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU COULD RAP LIKE THAT?!" Suddenly, he’s throwing instrumentals at you, demanding you try different beats. He’s hyping you up so hard, it’s basically a rap cypher now. "You and me? Rap duo. Think about it."

Hyunjin

Hyunjin’s scrolling on his phone when you casually spit a full-speed verse, no mistakes. He glances up slowly, eyebrows furrowed. "...Excuse me?" Then it clicks, and he gasps. "WHY WAS THAT SO HOT?!" Grabs his phone and immediately starts recording. He’s losing it, acting like he just discovered a hidden gem. "Can you do that again? Wait—say my name in the rap voice." This is now his favorite thing about you.

Han

Han’s rapping dramatically, adding sound effects and adlibs, when you suddenly match his energy and destroy the verse. He freezes mid-word, hands on his head. "YO, YO, YO—WHAT??" Looks personally offended, like you just out-rapped him in his own house. "Where did THAT come from?! Have you been hiding this?!" Forces you to do a rap battle immediately. He’s not even mad—just shook and so entertained. "We need a duo name. Right now."

Felix

Felix is driving peacefully, enjoying the music, when you start rapping perfectly—every word, every pause, every switch-up. He grips the wheel tighter. "...Huh?" Looks over at you, then back at the road, then back at you. "I think I just fell in love again." His deep laugh fills the car as he starts replaying the track just to hear you do it again. Now he needs you to rap every song you know.

Seungmin

Seungmin’s jamming along, vibing, when you suddenly annihilate a verse at high speed. He stops moving. Just stares. "……Interesting." When you finish, he raises a brow. "So, you’ve been sitting on this talent while I embarrass myself at karaoke?" Acts unimpressed, but later, you catch him playing that song again just to see if you’ll do it. And when you do? Smirks and nods. "Yeah. That’s my partner."

I.N

Jeongin’s messing around, rapping with exaggerated confidence, when you casually jump in and outperform him completely. He stops, hands gripping the wheel. "...No way." He’s laughing in shock, shaking his head. "YOU CAN RAP?! SINCE WHEN?!" Won’t let it go. Will bring it up at dinner. At practice. To the members. "Did you guys know my partner is a rapper? A WHOLE rapper?!"

[astonmartinii]

the age of no regret [mamma mia part four] | formula one scoial media au

drivers: sebastian vettel, jenson button & fernando alonso part one | part two | part three masterlist | tips

a due date nears, a god father is revealed and new cravings are discovered

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,209,851 others

tagged: jensonbutton

yourusername: f1 drivers are too generous, i don't know how we got all of the stuff back from montreal let alone how we're going to store it.

view all comments

user1: i'm NOT jealous of an unborn child's helmet collection

user2: this bro got a senna helmet, can i have it until they know who he is?

sebastianvettel: i'm seeing a 'we' in this caption when it was me, myself and i putting together this display case

yourusername: erm i was supervising?

sebastianvettel: that was more aimed at jenson, love. i wouldn't want you anywhere near a glass display case right now

jensonbutton: one day it's "i'm the wood work king, let me do this" and then it's "why did no one help me?" PICK A STRUGGLE SEB

sebastianvettel: well i was waiting for you to take all the credit ... so this is awkward now

jensonbutton: well i'll take the credit for getting most of the helmets

charles_leclerc: ummmm no i gave seb at least two of these

jensonbutton: @sebastianvettel tell your grid kid to back off this is adult conversation

charles_leclerc: i'm 25?

fernandoalo_oficial: beckett better be sleeping in his dog bed because i am not fighting a dog for my space in the bed

jensonbutton: of course he is !!!!!!!!!

yourusername: the exclamation marks are really making you look guilty

jensonbutton: IT'S NOT JUST ME YOU GUYS BRING HIM TO BED AS WELL

yourusername: i have hormones i see one puppy dog look AND I CAN'T LEAVE HIM THERE

fernandoalo_oficial: if i have to fight the dog, you guys have to let me sleep in the middle

yourusername: fine. beckett sleeps at the foot of the bed anyway you just want to be in the middle of the cuddle pile

fernandoalo_oficial: sue me

user3: cuddle pile? i'm so soft

user4: beckett? who named this dog and why was it definitely jenson?

yourusername: it was but i was assured it has nothing to do with f1

user4: babes i hate to tell you but he's defo named after the corner at silverstone

yourusername: how am i so easy to trick ffs

sebastianvettel

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, jensonbutton and 1,093,455 others

tagged: yourusername

sebastianvettel: crochet club in full swing for zandvoort. good luck nando!!

view all comments

user5: they really are old people at heart it's so cute

maxverstappen1: can i get a good luck for my home race?

sebastianvettel: good luck?

yourusername: good luck super max! (not that you need it)

maxverstappen1: thank you y/n i knew there was a reason why you're my favourite :)

charles_leclerc: can i get a good luck too please?

sebastianvettel: you weren't this clingy even when we were teammates

yourusername: seb !! be kind, good luck charlie

landonorris: can i also get a good luck?

yourusername: good luck lando (stop being so hard on yourself)

sebastianvettel: is everyone gonna ask for a good luck?

yourusername: how many more grid kids do you have? i feel like you underestimated the number on your cv

jensonbutton: how is my jumper coming along?

sebastianvettel: we're both working on a sleeve right now!

yourusername: sorry if one is shorter than the other i can't stop going to the bathroom

fernandoalo_oficial: thank you guys, can't wait to see you when i get home x

jensonbutton: looking fast this weekend, podium defo on the cards

yourusername: be fast but be safe x

sebastianvettel: looking forward to a new celebration

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 702,340 others

tagged: sebastianvettel, jensonbutton & yourusername

fernandoalo_oficial: getting attachment issues already @f1 can we just race in switzerland from now on?

view all comments

user8: they do group facetimes while nando is away?!?!?!?!?! shoot me.

yourusername: i second this @f1

jensonbutton: i third it

sebastianvettel: i fourth it

fernandoalo_oficial: i miss you guys :(

user9: i'm so excited/nervous about the naming situation i know these men will just have stupid suggestions

yourusername: we compromised with a name book i do not trust them after beckett

jensonbutton: beckett is a cute name and you agreed!!!!!

mickschumacher: do you guys need the extra camp beds or not?

sebastianvettel: yes please! could you bring them when you get back?

charles_leclerc: we're sleeping on camp beds? does my back mean nothing to you?

fernandoalo_oficial: do we look like a hotel to you?

yourusername: there are beds but it's first come first served, so don't be late xoxo

user10: are the grid going to stay at seb's?

user11: might be for a baby shower?

user12: HOLY SHIT

maxverstappen1: am i allowed to bring the cats? is beckett trained?

yourusername: omg yes please bring jimmy and sassy

jensonbutton: yes he's trained what do you think i've been doing with my retirement?

maxverstappen1: no comment

sebastianvettel: i guess you can bagsy a room for you and the cats

maxverstappen1: HA thank you seb

fernandoalo_oficial: more and more i realise why people call you my grid kid

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,340,566 others

yourusername: who knew i'd end up with a family this big? i love you all.

view all comments

user13: i am unwell this is so fucking cute

sebastianvettel: i love our weird little family

yourusername: little? we hosted like 25 grown men ...

jensonbutton: and you loved every single second

yourusername: yeah i love you guys and all your little stray cats with attachment issues

fernanodalo_oficial: yeah but that means they also give good gifts

user14: wait? 25? who else do we think went?

user15: so mick was definitely there, i think i saw mark in the back of one pic, kimi was there along with nico rosberg (LOL) and i think rubens barrichello

user16: no way first out of paddock brocedes reunion was at the mamma mia baby shower...

jensonbutton: those people are meant to be athletes how come there were NO CUPCAKES LEFT I KNOW THAT'S NOT IN YOUR DIETS

maxverstappen1: idk i feel like you're projecting

charles_leclerc: yeah you sound mad guilty jenson

yourusername: now i can see the grid kid resemblance

sebastianvettel: i will not take any responsibility for their shenanigans

fernandoalo_oficial: i do

danielricciardo: soz i finally got that brocedes scoop over a late night cupcake

yourusername: i won't be angry if you spill to me

lewishamilton: daniel?

fernandoalo_oficial: this is why you're my favourite daniel

user17: i need them to SPILL NOW

jensonbutton

liked by sebastianvettel, yourusername and 702,334 others

tagged: kimiraikkonen

jensonbutton: it's official!! after careful consideration, we decided that kimi was the best choice for god father, but we still consider you all a weird mix of god uncles and god everything else. y/n is due any day now so we'll see you all some time soon x

view all comments

user18: LETS GOOOOOO I WAS ALWAYS TEAM KIMI THAT'S MY GOAT 🐐

maxverstappen1: rigged

yourusername: maxy if it helps seb was seriously stumped after the baby beekeeping suit

maxverstappen1: doesn't help but i guess it's healthy to take a loss every now and again

danielricciardo: i. am. shocked.

sebastianvettel: you insulted all of us in your application

danielricciardo: ummmmm yes to prove to chickie that i'm a fun, goofy guy DUH

jensonbutton: we are NOT boring farts

danielricciardo: depriving your child of a fun god father is a boring fart move

kimiraikkonen: i am fun daniel.

charles_leclerc: i may have lost god father but i won being a bear, you win some you lose some

lewishamilton: you're being much more gracious than expected

charles_leclerc: oh i screamed into my pillow when i got this notification (and max also lost)

fernandoalo_oficial: you're taking it well lewis

lewishamilton: I KNOW YOU VOTED AGAINST ME FERNANDO BUT JOKES ON YOU I SEE THE HAMILTON BEAR YOU FRAUD

yourusername: there were no votes against people... also roscoe is not a reference we can actually verify i don't think dogs can speak english (or german, spanish or italian)

lewishamilton: he can skateboard? how am i not a good dad?

fernandoalo_oficial: see this aggression is why you aren't god father

lewishamilton: i'm letting roscoe at your ankles old man

sebastianvettel: OKAY LETS STOP THERE

markwebber: who got kimi jack daniels? that's a bold (and uniformed)choice

yourusername: it's the aesthetic mark, i don't like your tone

jensonbutton: kimi will drink anything don't worry love

markwebber: all i said was it is an interesting choice

yourusername: this is why you got destroyed by a twink btw

jensonbutton: well this all escalated fast

astonmartinf1

liked by lancestroll, estebanocon and 1,094,561 others

astonmartinf1: fernando alonso will not be racing this weekend due to family matters. felipe drugovich will race in the second aston martin seat. we wish y/n, fernando, jenson and seb luck for their new addition.

view all comments

user21: EVERYONE STAY FUCKING CALM

user22: i am so so so so so so so so so chill about this

lancestroll: good luck y/n! can't wait to meet the little one

user23: god i miss the squabbles in the comment sections

user24: literally and i can imagine it's going to increase ten fold when they all have an actual kid to fight over

charles_leclerc: why does it have to be a race so far from europe :(((( i wanna meet chickie ASAP

maxverstappen1: don't make me race your ass to the hospital

charles_leclerc: we can use air max this once seb won't know

danielricciardo: 📸 GOT YOUR ASS

charles_leclerc: daniel???

danielricciardo: 'm sorrry i'm stressed

user23: okay that didn't take long

user25: i need a lobotomy asap cause why am i so excited about four complete strangers having a baby

user26: I AM SO NERVOUS ABOUT THE NAME IF THIS CHILD IS NAMED AFTER A RACE, DRIVER OR A CORNER I WILL ACTUALLY LOSE MY MIND

user27: seb will never see the light of day if that child ends up with a bond girl name

lewishamilton: good luck guys !!! can't wait to meet the full family

user28: completely normal that the whole family is not online during potential labour but I NEED UPDATES

user29: okay put your bets on guys - which one of them is passing out

user30: jenson 100%

user31: idk i think seb has been way too chill this entire pregnancy and it's all going to come out during the birth

danielricciardo: yeah seb's ass is grass

maxverstappen1: DANIEL STOP (it's gonna be jenson)

danielricciardo: i'm sorry i'm so stressed i'm literally going to bite off my fingers

f1

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,402,455 others

f1: with y/n's due date this week, we send our love and well wishes to the alonso-vettel-button family and can't wait to meet the new addition (and soon to be champion) 🏎️

view all comments

user32: it's just dawning on me that this kid might need a jumbo birth certificate with all these last names

user33: is anyone curious if they'll ever do a paternity test to see who the biological dad is

user34: let's not ask horribly personal questions about situations that are nothing to do with us

user35: also the kid is going to have four loving parents and about 25 grown men who will fight for them so i really don't think who the biological father is is really a big deal

estebanocon: gosh i am so excited

user36: as much as i am excited i hope it won't become a whole family influencer type beat

user37: i don't think they will tbf, i think they'll post about chickie but it'll be reserved

georgerussell63: so excited for the guys! they'll all rock as parents and y/n has already put up with them so will be an amazing mother

alexalbon: good luck guys, all of our love x

user38: f1 cruel as hell for putting this race all the way qatar so that there's no way they can go back to europe between races :(

charles_leclerc: real, depriving us from meeting chickie asap

user39: do we think kimi went with them?

user40: and maybe mick? he's not with mercedes this weekend?

mickschumacher: kimi and i are with them! not allowed in the delivery room when chickie comes but we're here for moral support <3

user41: oh i am so soft

lewishamilton: i guess it makes sense kimi is the god father... good luck guys!

note: OKAY PEOPLE THAT'S PART FOUR HOLY MOLY i am hashtag stumped on a baby name and the sex IDK ANY OF IT but this was FUN! hopefully yall enjoy and hopefully i tagged everyone who asked (blame my phone if not) also thanks to @deviltsunoda for listening to me SCREAM about this the whole time i've been writing it xoxo

taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora @faithm120601 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @luv4kani @eugene-emt-roe @magical-spit @ironmaiden1313 @jaydaaasworld @whoreks @rainerax @nonsensical-nonsence @laneyspaulding19 @chelseyyouraverageluigi @lxclerc @gemofthenight @woweewoowa @tagteamedbitch@imagandom@mypage-myfandoms@mehrmonga@asparklysoul @unstableplant @motorsp0rt@multilovebot@lili-flower03 @its-elias-world @jolixtreesunn@nothingfuninthislife@rileynicol3@kodzuvk@mochimommy2002@fluffyspaceprincess@roseseraj@black-swan-blog27@nyrasslut@justdreamersdream@asfaraslifegets@why4anne@ineffableperson@leilanixx@lunyyx @pupbistro @gaypoetsblog@rafaaoli@champomiel@sadsierra2 @rainerax @lokietro @thecubanator2 @nzygftoji @rockyhayzkid @nmw-am @slytherheign @erikasurfer @turn-around-look-at-what-you-see @greigreyhiyyih

[partywithoutsmiling]

Another AU that has been knocking around my mind for a while XD I call it Moonlit AU

It can be summed as such: Pop Trolls are pretty wild bunch when it comes to looks, varying in colours, flocking/fur patterns, glitter, freckles, hair, you name it

It got me thinking, what sort of thing would they find attractive in prospective partner? While singing/harmonizing could be a part of it (and ngl, that did made me think of the Happy Feet movies, as silly as those were), my mind turned towards more physical attributes

Thus, this AU was born- where one of the reasons why Pop trolls like to be most active at night (to party) is that a Moon's Light also allows them to appreciate fur/flocking patterns otherwise hidden, where the complexity and style varies from troll to troll, as is thought to show one's inner self

Contrary to what one would expect from the Princess (and future Queen) of Pop, Poppy's patterns are rather simple- but striking nonetheless, firm and bold stripes, like taking a wide brush to a canvas- straightforward but chaotic in their hardly orderly fashion Poppy struts her patterns; they are unique and dominant among the general showing of swirls, polka dots and flower like spottings She is aware her stripes are not considered the most attractive of features- too similar to that of a predatory critter, too sharp for who is supposed to be cheerful queen of equally cheerful people- but she is a romantic at heart and believes that when it will be time to choose a consort, those physical features are surface-level importance at best, and this is the mentality she has going forward, looking at the glowing marks of her friends and considering them equally beautiful no matter what.

Until she manages to spot Branch one night outside under the full moon light that is.

Branch's pattern, in high contrast to Poppy, is far more complex. Symetrical but delicate in its filigree, and far more detailed than anything the Princess has ever seen before. Usually, Branch ventures out only on moonless nights, as he feels the glow of his marks are too visible, too dangerous to just show out and about, for every dangerous predator to see- and it is purely bad luck when bad weather caughts him outside longer than he would have liked, and Poppy manages to catch the sight of him while he is completely unaware he had been seen.

All her conviction flies right out of the window, as she looks at his delicate patterning and her mind just goes blank and - Oh

Usually she would have called out to him, ask him to come to a party- but she feels mesmerized, hypnotized by the elegance of the filigree, and her mind longs for a way to memorate it forever- with a photo, or a painting- and she stares at the entrance of his bunker long after he vanished inside, completely stupefied and wrong footed.

Before, Poppy hardly ever gave Branch a thought, when it came to this part of Pop Troll culture; as part of her, guiltily, sort of assumed that with his lack of colour, his patterning would be rather bland as well- and besides, it's not like he ever shown a desire to participate in courting dances.

But now she is left with sudden new, and unexpected feeling- her heart and breath going now a bit faster everytime she catches a glimpse of him from now on, her cheeks flushing and her tail wagging in excitement

(Her desk's drawer is filled with failed cut out scrapbook pieces of leaves and tiny detailed filigree, as she attempts to journal her sudden and new discover and cant get it quite right)

Tldr; Pop Trolls have fur/flocking patterns that appear only under the moon's light, and Poppy finds Branch's so irresistibly attractive she hardly knows what to do with herself

This pushes her to try and spend more time with him- just spend time with him, no trying to push him to go to parties with her or trying to get him to sing or hug

For his part, Branch is both secretly pleased his own crush is now paying more attention to him than to Creek (who is not happy with this development) but also holy shit Poppy is paying more attention to him, so it is kind of unnerving for him, freaking him out

[whowrotethenote]

𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞

A/N // Short story set in the universe of Biggest Fan. This takes place five months after One of Your Girls.

I wrote the beginning and end at the same time and got a little lazy trying to connect the two. So, if it seems rushed towards the middle, that's why. The inspo for the short came from this anon. I didn't include the moments leading up to the actual appointment just because it will be mentioned and discussed in the next part, Desires. I hope you like it anon💗

Warnings // Angst // Adultery // Profanity // Themes surrounding pregnancy & abortion

Word count // 6k

Disclaimer // Biggest Fan Masterlist // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Join My Taglist // Main Masterlist // Navigation

Tuesday, January 2, 2024

“Never have I ever…kissed a girl,” I announce. 

Seven fingers up, standing strong in the lead, I read the room. Demi’s finger goes down, leaving her at four left. And then the unthinkable happens. Anthony puts a finger down taking a sip out of his Naughty Elf mug. 

“Excuse me?!” Demi shrieks with her head cocking back. 

He removes the mug from his mouth, revealing a smirk. “That’s right.”

“Now, you know we need a story time.”

“No story time.” He shrugs. “It used to happen all the time. How do y’all think I discovered I was gay? I had to experiment first.”

“Wait—so you’ve like dated girls?” I dip my head like it’s some grand secret.

“Yup. Kissed ‘em. Had sex with ‘em—” His uncovering of truths is cut short by us gasping in unison. He cracks up. “Don’t get me wrong—pussy is great. It’s just something about men I can’t shake. They’re terrible people but I can’t shake those bastards. What about you, missy?”

“Senior year in high school. Captain of the girl’s basketball team. Think Kehlani but a little thicker,” Demi explains. 

“Mmm.” Anthony and I both hum in agreement. 

“Understandable. And don’t forget that shot, miss thing,” he reminds her. 

She throws one back before shooting her four fingers back up. On the floor of our newly rented Manhattan condo, we were getting lit off left over Coquito I brought from home—the crumbs of Christmas dinner—with our second round of Never Have I Ever. 

The best ice breaker to ease Anthony into our world—who, if I’m being honest, needs no easing whatsoever. He fits right into us. The missing piece to our puzzle. So much so, I offered to let him move in when he shared that his lease was almost up. It was a no brainer. Within the last two months of his hire at the hospital, we became ridiculously close. Anthony is fun, wild, and he doesn’t give a fuck about what anybody thinks. Anyone who embodies those three characteristics is okay with me and mine. 

There’s too much extra space in here. Every which way I turn, there’s an extra room that needs to be furnished and filled with personality. Demi and I are barely home as is. So, we let him take the lead on decorating the rest of the condo. All I can say is, that boy has taste. He made this place look like it belongs in a Home & Gardens spread. 

In the living area that he garnished with cream and black accents—we all sit comfortably in front of the floor to ceiling window. The news talked of the snow sticking and to expect at least six inches by tomorrow morning. Flurries of white hauled down on the other side of the window, blanketing the city, prompting us to take full advantage of the fireplace for the first time.

“Okay, my turn! Never have I ever…” Demi’s eyes float up until the light bulb goes off. “Got my ass ate.” At the same time they put a finger down and reach for their drinks. Seven fingers still up, I wait for them to be done before Anthony’s eyes go wide.

“Wait—why are you still over there with seven fingers up?”

“Never happened,” I confess. 

“Never?” His head dips.

“Never,” I confirm. 

“Well, what about that Alpha from last summer?” Demi squints. “What was his name? Travis? Trey?”

“Terrell.”

“Yeah! Him. He gives me that.”

I shake my head. “Never did it to me. We didn’t do anything really.”

“And nothing from whoever you’re seeing now?”

I grin when all I really want to do is scream. “Who said I’m seeing somebody now?”

“Oh, come on.” He searches for Demi who gives him nothing. Picking up one of those cheap Christmas themed sugar cookies we baked earlier and plopping it into her mouth. “I see you getting texts and disappearing,” he continues. “Gifts and whatnot. You were gone a whole weekend a few weeks back.” His squints with the lower half of his face twisting in amusement. The wider his smirk, the deeper that pit in my stomach. 

“It’s nobody, really.” I laugh, countering the heat capturing my face. Did I forget to mention that he’s very observant?

He shows his hands. “Fine. I’ll get out your business. Whoever he is, that boy’s got taste. That Chanel bag for Christmas?” He puckers his lips while shaking his head side to side. 

“Ouu! We should make gingerbread houses. Let’s see what we got.” Demi shoots up from the floor. Our eyes snagging before she fully rises as I try to convey a thank you through my eyes. An angel, she is. 

“Only thing in that fridge is eggnog and to-go plates. Good luck.” Anthony shouts while going through his phone. 

Anthony is sharp and we’ve only just met some months ago. I don’t like this. Keeping secrets and hiding an entire portion of my life from the people that mean something to me. Not saying anything is too close to lying outright and that’s not who I am. That’s not who I want to see when I look in the mirror. Too many things surrounding him are not just unconventional, but immoral. Never mind that it's a secret hidden from the world, but what does his wife think when he takes extra days away and doesn’t rush home to her and their kids?

I try not to think about her too much. A stabbing—no burning courses through me whenever I imagine him with her and their flock of children. I picture a home full of love and comfort. Nothing like the one mine turned into after my dad got sick. I can see them cuddling on the couch. One of their youngest sprawled across their laps with the iPad. The oldest yapping on the phone in the kitchen to her friends.

She’s pristine and so well put together. She looks it. Always dressed nice in designer. That rock of a ring beaming in every photo. Only the strongest and most resilient woman could raise five kids while her husband came and went unexpectedly like a full moon. She’s nothing like me. I know it. I’m Lana—always late and tripping through life. Never knowing or even prepared for what comes next. 

“You okay, friend?”

My eyes flutter and I snap out of the maladaptive dream at the sound of Anthony’s voice. 

“Yeah,” I lie to him again. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Wednesday, January 3, 2024

“Mm,” I groan flipping the duvet over my head. 

The sun bullying me awake. My head—a constant pounding at my frontal lobe. My reward for another round of Never Have I Ever, Caresha Please and Drunk Uno. Since the week of Christmas, all I've done is fill my body with alcohol and it's starting to take a toll on me.

The laughs and muffled chatter that must be my roommates, travel through my room walls. I snatch the cover back down, one eye peaking at the digital clock on the nightstand. 

3:12 PM

The fuck?

I know we wrapped it up pretty late last night, but I haven’t slept in like this since being a teenager. A blessing and a curse—my body’s natural alarm clock from years of morning shifts and morning classes, would usually wake me up against my own will. 

The smell of sweet syrup and hopefully pancakes is what boosts me to swing my legs on the edge of the bed and finally stretch. Limbs sore and head still pounding, my slippers scrape against the floor in pursuit to the kitchen. 

“Sleeping beauty!” Anthony beams. I eye their empty plates and a kitchen so clean it looks untouched. 

“Don’t worry. Your food is in the microwave,” Demi informs.

“Why did y’all let me sleep so long?” I rub my eyes opening the microwave to be met with a full plate as promised. I slam it back shut and the buzz fills the room after I press the one. 

“Girl, you’re on break and you have no work. What’s wrong with sleeping in?”

“Don’t want my body to get used to it.”

The plate is full and steaming as I carry it to the open stool next to Demi at the white marble top island. I’m halfway engaging in conversation, with Gossip Girl playing on the TV in the family room over. The metal of the fork hitting my plate as I scoop potatoes while biting into the beef bacon in rotation. Everything’s fine. It’s not until I take my first bite of the scrambled eggs that shit gets…funny. The smooth texture against my tongue at first and then the mini spasm of my throat as I attempt to get it down. My stomach turns once the smell of the eggs becomes too potent while it’s all I can focus on. The biggest thing in the room it becomes. I chew and chew—breath growing heavier and spit getting warmer with every rotation of my jaw. 

The clink of the fork hitting the plate rings dramatically, halting Demi and Anthony’s conversation. It’s all a blur. One second I’m sitting there with them and the next I’m inches away from a toilet bowl. Gasping for air after letting out everything from last night and just a few second ago. The smell—sour and overwhelming, has my back hunching as another round ejects from me. 

“Lana, oh my god.” Demi’s soft voice is over me as her small hand finds my hair. My chest expands rapidly as I cough and spit what’s left into the rest of it. Slamming the toilet, not being able to bear the smell a second longer. I blink hard to allow the sitting liquid in my eyes to fall. 

A stack of tissue jolts into my line of sight and I take it. “Thank you,” I croak and cough again. I shake my head, registering in cloudy consciousness, that look she gives me. “Probably all the alcohol catching up to me.”

“Alcohol, huh?” Her voice fades out. I follow her line of sight to the decorative basket sitting on my sink. A case of L Organic tampons standing tall amongst the other junk inside. Just one left in the clear cylinder. Making it more than obvious that they’ve gone untouched for some time—otherwise, they’d be replenished. 

Our eyes, like magnets, find each other. 

Boxes and boxes tumble inside the mini cart hanging in the crease of Demi’s elbow. It looks like she’s doing inventory. She uses a forearm to swipe what’s left on the shelf into the cart. Two don’t make the landing and I bend to pick them up. 

“Demi—you don’t think that’s a bit much, friend?”

“My ass.” Her eyebrows hike up. Boxes still rippling into the overflowing cart and still falling. The more I pick up, two more come down to the floor nearly hitting me on the head. “Some of these damn tests be lying. This is not the time to guess or play roulette.”

She stomps away from me on a mission. I place the handful of tests back on the shelf instead of adding fuel to her fire. Stomach empty and head full of the worst possible outcomes, I follow right behind her through the aisle. 

No words needed to be exchanged as we stormed out the bathroom together, bundling up and ordering a unnecessarily expense Uber. After disarming and convincing Anthony that I had started my period and didn’t have any tampons left, of course. More lies. 

What the fuck is even happening today? It all feels like the longest nightmare and it hasn’t even been an hour since I opened my eyes. 

My luck isn’t just falling short—it's nonexistent. The self-checkout is under maintenance. So we stand in wait, suppressing angst, as the younger cashier swipes the dozens of boxes with a constant beep. All different sizes, different brands adorned with different fonts. All with that same word somewhere on them that makes me want to throw up again. 

I want to jump out my skin watching the young boy swipe and swipe, eyeing every single test like he’s shopping himself. Eyes hesitantly looking up at us across from him. Our eyes like daggers, pierced on his every move, as if he’s handling thousands of our hard earned money in his very hands. God, I wish he’d hurry the fuck up. Just as I open my mouth to say something, Demi is quicker. 

“Your business—mind it,” she spits. Crossing her arms, pulling her black Chanel shades over her eyes as he nods frantically speeding his task up a couple notches. We came busting in this CVS, calling ourselves in disguise. Already bundled in puffer coats, scarves and beanies to protect from the inclement weather—we added shades that defeated their purpose, seeing as we’ve had them sitting atop our heads this whole time. 

Resting my hands in the pockets of my sweats, I case the store. Some middle-aged folks in the aisles. A group of what looks to be college kids come walking up to the register. And the frail older man behind us in line, with a prescription bag and jug of water in his hands. I pull my glasses down immediately when he and I lock eyes. 

After the ring up from hell, it took the persuasion of seven car salesmen for Demi to talk me out of taking all of the tests, right in the bathroom of that CVS.

“A drug store is not a place to crash out,” she tells me. 

I opt to crash out in the back of this Uber’s truck instead. Bags full of tests like groceries stocked for the inclement weather the news promised us. 

“I can’t be—” The shake of my head finishes my sentence like a period. I can’t even allow that word to flow past my lips. 

“Yeah, no shit.” What the fuck am I gonna do? I can’t be. I just can’t. School. His family. My family. My god—his wife. My breathing picks up and suddenly it feels like the middle of July in the back of this man’s Ford truck. “Lana—Lana just relax. We don’t even know if it’s that yet.” 

“What else can it be?” My face screws up. Tears hot and threatening to spill. “Sir, can you please turn the heat down?!” 

“Sorry—sorry ma’am.” He eyes us through the rearview hastily. I didn’t mean to yell, but damn. The hot air from the vent was doing the opposite of calming me down like Demi suggests. Everything around me feels like too much. I snatch the LV scarf straight from my neck on the verge of suffocating. 

“You two have been careful?” Demi’s eyes pierce mine. Careful. He’s careful with just about everything else, except that. He’s grown careless. Yeah, no phone around me but it feels too good to pull out. Call only from a payphone, but snatching the condom off in the heat of a wild night. “Lana?” She calls my name. I know she’s expecting an answer but I can’t say it out loud. NDA and shame both having a hand to my mouth. 

In defeat, my head hangs until it’s buried in my hands. I can’t be. 

A vivid and erotic reel of all the most recent times, secluded with him, flashes through my mind as I come to the painstaking truth that I actually can be. Before Christmas in Greenbay? Around Thanksgiving? When we went back to the Hamptons house—fire burning and crackling, laying on the living room rug, sweating all the extra left over energy out?

Every time I think I’ve pinned the exact moment it must’ve happened, I come up with a different more likely occurrence, until it seems every time might’ve been the time. It happens so often now—there’s no way for me to sensibly dig out when this catastrophe was born from the chemicals of careless lust and passion. 

My stomach gets queasy. Tight and twisting like I’m preparing for the steepest drop on a rollercoaster. A foreign sound—something between a whimper and a groan leaves me. 

“I think I’m gonna throw up again,” I strain. 

“Please not in this man’s truck.”

“Yes, please,” the driver pleads. Eyes shifting from the road to the rearview mirror. His futile outburst earning him a glare from hell from Demi.

Bzzz! Bzzz!

My Dior bag vibrates between us. We exchange looks before I dig my phone out and sure enough, a text from an unknown number is the latest notification.

Vegas this weekend. He’s asking for you. 9543402985

Staring at the text on the screen, I fight the urge to throw up again. The timing is cataclysmic. My heart usually races for a different reason when I see those words. 

Muscle memory has me googling the nearest payphone or Link kiosk. “Sir, I’m sorry but can you stop at Penn station really quick.”

“You gotta do that right now?”

“If not now, then when?” I turn to be met with her head shaking. “I’ll add the stop on the app,” I tell the driver. 

Quads aching from stammering down three flights of steel steps—maneuvering through chunks of civilians like the most skilled quarterback—face burning from trying to regulate its normal temperature—I snatch the receiver off the hook. 

It dawns on me hearing the gnawing dial tone, that I don’t have any quarters. No way in hell am I going back up all those steps to the coin machine. My head rotates to gauge my surroundings. Only a few feet away from me, a young boy—curly fro, no older than fourteen dressed in a Denim Tears sweatsuit—leans on the wall with a guitar in his hands. A more nineteen thirties, blues reminiscent rendition of Snooze emitting from it. 

“Kid.” I step away as far as I can, inching in his direction without dropping the phone. “I know you got some quarters in there.” My eyes drop to his hat sitting at his feet. “I need five dollars in change. “

He looks between his NY Yankees hat and me with my hand out. “I want twenty.” 

“What?!” 

“Twenty or nothing.”

“How you want twenty and all I need is twenty quarters?” It's not like I’m short on money. In fact, I could make the kid’s day, Cashapp him five hundred dollars, and go on about my business. But something about him trying to hustle me, threw me left. Especially considering the day’s already unfortunate events. I’m already abundant in Ls. Two seconds from wilding out on the nearest person. 

He shrugs. “And all I need is a twenty.” I sigh deeply. Patience dropping like the sand in a hourglass. “What I gain from giving you these quarters?”

“You won’t lose anything if you give me the quarters for a five. It's an even exchange,” I bargain. I can see the internal battle, watching his eyes shift between me and his hat. “Look—how about I give you ten.” I show him another five dollar bill. “And you still just give me the five in quarters. You gain five, little man.”

He squints and then counts the twenty quarters off before dropping them in my hand. “Bet.” He snatches the two fives from me and resumes his ballad. 

“Punk,” I mumble slipping his quarters into the slot. I am well versed in the art of negotiation. Years of making a sucker out of my brother whenever he needed to just “borrow” money from my stash. Charged that ass interest too. 

The line rings only twice before that silence signals connection. “Paul?”

“Alana, how are you?” Never been better. I just got cheated out of five dollars. I’m using a dirty ass payphone in underground NYC to call my famous fuckbuddy’s companion. I’m almost a month late on my period. And the dad is public married with five kids already, and old enough to be my father. 

“I’m fine,” I tell the same lie two days in a row. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing down this way. Is it snowing over there?”

“Yeah—bad. I haven’t seen it like this in years.” 

“Well, you’ll be relieved to know you’ll be on the west coast, where there’s no snow by this time on Friday.”

“I thought the show was in Canada?”

“It is,” he confirms. “He doesn’t plan on staying though. He has business in Vegas the next day so it makes sense to just leave.”

“I’ll be staying until Sunday?”

“Monday, actually. I’ll be sending over the flight and hotel details soon.” I nod as if he can see me. “You ever been to Vegas?”

“No.” Before him, I hadn’t really been anywhere. 

“I don’t think it’s anything special unless you’re into gambling.”

“Good to know.” The conversation is static—robotic almost. Or maybe that’s in my head. Every pause feeling like a confession of some sort. Every word I push out feels like I should be saying something else. 

“Anything else going on?” He pokes. 

My mouth opens then shuts. My catastrophic possibility—likely to affect everyone around me, including the man on the phone—hanging tight on prison bars, begging to be set free. This doesn’t feel right. All the secrets. All the suppression. There’s no way I’d be able to do this in front of him after knowing whether I am or am not. So I decide right here that I won’t know. 

Snow flurries land and melt on my face all at once as I jog back to the truck. “Thank you,” I tell the man for the unpredicted stop, right before he pulls off. Demi’s eyes burning on me like the brightest light in a room.

“I guess you’re leaving this weekend.”

I nod. A pause hangs between us. It’s louder than All I Want For Christmas playing on the radio. “I’m not taking those.” My confession breaks free. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

I finally meet her gaze. Her eyes wide and brows lifting to her hairline damn near. “I’m not taking those,” I repeat. “The tests.”

“I’m confused. Did you just come on or something?” She looks me over as if the evidence of my period would be on the clothes I’m wearing. 

“Demi—I can’t take those before I go. Imagine the two lines come up. I’m supposed to just go around him acting normal?”

“Or—hear me out—tell him the truth?”

My face screws up hearing such a simple anecdote that’s the furthest thing from simple. “You’re talking crazy.”

“What is so crazy about telling the truth? Unless you’ve already decided what you’re doing if the two lines do show up, and you just don’t want him to have any say?” Another lingering silence. It’s smoldering hot like the air coming from the car’s vents, yet again. “Wow.”

“We already know his verdict.”

“Oh, you’ve asked him already?” She laughs, but it’s vacant of any joy. “Great—just do whatever you want.” She turns her head to the window after throwing a hand up. 

“Oh—you’re one of those?”

“I didn’t say all that.” Her eyes turn to slits from my accusation. An accusation I knew bore no weight. Demi is as liberal as they come. 

Our eyes sharp and daring don’t leave one another. I’m the first to break. Internal strife too great already. I don’t need two battles. I won’t survive either.

“This is nothing to argue about.” I face forward. Catching the eyes of the driver who snatches his away in a flash. Nosy bitch.

“Not arguing. Whatever the results…I don’t think the decision should fall all on you.” Her voice, way softer than that condescending one from just seconds ago that made me feel smaller than a crumb. “And I think you shouldn’t be so quick to choose, either. Believe me—I get it. This is probably the worst thing that could happen. But the quick decisions are usually the ones we end up regretting.”

My nose flares. Chin quivering as I focus on the snow flurries sticking and melting to rain on the window. I hate when she makes sense. This whole thing feels like the end of the world. One of those situations that’s going to stick to me for the rest of my fucking life. Regardless, of the outcome.

What I imagined yesterday—their picture perfect family, doing what loving families do—I’d put a crack right down the middle. Our secret—our bubble fed in the dark of expensive hotel rooms and hours after midnight—would have no choice but to come to light. And I don’t think I am strong enough for that. Let alone motherhood. 

Friday, January 5, 2024

I laugh to myself, watching in real time as he smugly grins down at Nick Aldis from the ring. Capturing his belt from Paul after just laying out Randy, AJ Styles and LA Knight like they were mere target practice to him. Just pawns on a board. 

I shake my head. A fucking menace. 

“Shitting me?” An outburst that nobody can hear after Nick informs Paul of the fatal four-way match to take place. I know Demi’s going ballistic back home. I stare at the phone on the nightstand provided by the hotel. I could call, but I know that’s probably going against something in the NDA.

Suddenly, a wave of dreariness hits me. Most likely an effect of traveling and all the stress. Although Google told me it was an early symptom of my unwanted event. 

When I wake up it’s almost one in the morning. Still no Joe. 

I shower again, wincing at the water hitting my chest. Usually a tell sign that my period is not far behind, but she’s almost a month late. Life has been moving way too fast, flashing by me. Holidays, traveling to meet him, semester ending—and I never stopped to register that I hadn’t touched a tampon in a month. My head has been gone.

On the plane ride, I decided to heed Demi’s advice. Slow the process of decision-making down by weighing everything first. Pros and cons. So far, the only pro I came up with, is that he’s well off and not afraid to splurge or share. My, you-know-what, would never have to grow content with financial struggles. 

So far that cons list is longer than Santa’s naughty list when he ventures into O’block. 

Child number six (I.e. the baby of the family usually forgotten)

Born out of wedlock

Most likely a secret for most of their lives. Not being able to tell the kids at school who their daddy is

Judgment 

Balancing school and … you know what

Gaining weight from the cravings

Giving birth and all the things that can go wrong with that

More nausea 

Going from an escape to an obligation to him

The cons just kept hitting me like all the dodge balls from the other team when you’re the last man standing on your side—until I was buried in cons.

I make my way downstairs to this hotel that sits in the heart of Vegas. Seas and lakes of lively people, all dressed up and most likely intoxicated. Loud and flashy. That’s all I’ll remember about Vegas. The people, the buildings, the scenery. In your face and in your pockets. 

I eat for the sixth time since this morning. Sitting by my lonesome now at a slot machine. Pressing away and feeding the machine more money to keep losing—a too familiar tango, sort of a reflection for the relationship between him and I.

Vegas nights…this would be a decent theme for a prom. The committee at the hospital had been searching for ideas already, to start planning their annual charity prom for the kids who can’t make their own.

I reach into my purse, ready to text Demi and throw her the idea to get her opinion. I stop myself. I don’t have my phone. Right…

My shoulders slump with the release of a breath. I keep tapping. And tapping. And tapping. Until I’m damn near one with the machine, tapping like second nature while I get lost in my insecurities. 

Is this what I want for my life? For my…

It’s lonely. It’s tedious. Searching for things to occupy my time until he shows up. Always wondering and worrying about what or who he’s doing when he’s not in my line of sight. It won’t magically change just because something or someone else enters the picture. Being a mother to his kid won’t suddenly usher in a new routine in place of him trying to get me in where I can fit in. It’ll be the same scenario. I mean, look how he treats the first mother of his children. 

This is not what I’d want for me and mine. Even when my father was sick, he uprooted being a father as a priority. He was always present. Always doing what his body would allow. He never had to fit us in. Never had to juggle two households and a career. My kids don’t deserve chaos. A chaotic childhood will only make them susceptible to a chaotic life. Kind of like the one I’m living now. 

All I’ve done is generate cons. There are no pros. 

The glow of the TV is the only source of light in this massive penthouse suite when the soft click of the master bedroom door prompts my eyes to pop open from sudden slumber. 

His large frame, a shadow so quiet, as he makes his way toward the bed where I sit up. 

“I woke you up?” He whispers.

“Yeah, but it’s cool.”

He drops the duffel bag by the foot of the king bed where I stand to meet him. Spreading his hands out to invite me into his arms. 

“Mm,” he groans into the hug. Simultaneously releasing a breath together, like he’s transferring all the tension in his body to me. But there’s no need. I’m already overflown with it. Wrapped in his big arms, it hides cowardly. Afraid to come out and show itself in front of him. That’s not the purpose I serve here. “Squeeze,” he instructs. “Tight, tight, tight,” he mumbles with his mouth right on top of my head. The grin sneaks on my face, not for show, as I grip his hard body as much as I can. Burying my face into his hoodie and sniffing in that familiar cleanliness that’s stained on him. The events of the week forgotten for no longer than the twenty seconds we embrace. SWV was right. The cause and cure. 

“Everything alright?” He leans back a few inches. Eyebrows wrinkling and something of a smile dancing on his handsome face. 

“Yeah.” I nod. Voice soft and unconvincing. “I’m fine.” Another lie. Three for three now. The slot machines downstairs would be blinging and flashing obnoxiously. His stillness lets me know he’s not buying the act. “—Just work things.” 

“Okay. I’m gonna take a shower.” I don’t say anything, already knowing the announcement is an invitation. I let him do his thing before he enrages out the steam filled ensuite bathroom. Body dripping wet still—arms big and daring. I almost regret my decision to not join him.

We don’t have sex. The subtle bags sitting under his captivating eyes tell a story of restlessness. He did a lot tonight just on camera, so I can only imagine. My reading proven correct when he sinks his large frame beside me, welcoming me into his space with a hand to the back of my head until it’s comfortable on his peck. 

“What did you do today?”

“Nothing really. Ordered room service. I watched Smackdown.” He elicits another smile from me despite the internal dread, reminiscing on his performance.

“Yeah? How’d you like it?” His large hand slides down to palm my stomach. A gesture that I usually ignore, thinking it was just comfortable for him. No different than the circles he draws on  my hip at times. But this time I freeze up like a possum playing dead. Previous thoughts vacuumed right from me. 

“Um…wait—what—what were we talking about again?”

His chest tightens under me from laughing. “Don’t tell me your memory is going before mine?”

“I’m not the one pushing forty.” I force a laugh. Grateful he can’t see that it didn’t reach my face. 

“The show?”

“Oh, right. Big bully Roman. It was really good. They should have you teaching classes on heel turns.”

“Mm,” he hums sleepily. “Didn’t do anything else while I was gone?”

“I went downstairs for a little bit. Played the slots. And some roulette…”

“Didn’t know you liked to gamble,” he speaks ignorantly and somehow still knowingly. I’ve been gambling since I’ve met him. Gambling my time and the discovery of this whole ordeal. And now, a new stake has entered the bet. The roulette of whether I am or am not still spinning with no landing.

“No…I don’t actually…”

He fights the dreariness in his deep voice for a while longer. Talking to me about his first time in Vegas with the twins amongst other things. It’s not long before I hear the soft snores. 

All I’ve wanted to do, for days now, is call my mom and tell her everything. Let the confessions roll from me like a ball down a hill nonstop. Release the angst from me to her, the way I’ve always done. Selfish tendencies of a child, I know. 

But sadly, I can hear her now. Lana, what business do you have with a married man? A man whose plate is already full when there are men that will come to you with an empty one?

Tina Maxwell—previously Tina Floyd—is a proud woman. Philly born and bred—her, bullshit, and low maintenance, just don’t coincide. Her heart is the size of Alaska, but her pride and self worth can fit two more of that colossal state. Hence, why immediately after my father recovered and just couldn’t seem to raise his spirits back up, with no will to bring back the spark in his marriage after it laid stagnant so long—she filed for divorce. 

I know people judge her for it. I was one of them. How could she leave a man that had just recovered from a battle of fighting cancer? 

The older I get, the more the curtain protecting that answer on the board lowers itself. Life is too short to waste on anything or anybody. She loved and still loves my father. But love is fickle. It burns out too quickly. She gave him a chance and he didn’t want it. She did her duty as a wife and a mother to his two kids. Stayed bedside, overextended herself when he was too sick to work let alone get out of bed, showed up to every appointment and waited in angst through every procedure.

After choosing him for years, she chose herself. And she always does. The only things that take precedence over that, are her kids. 

If she knew how I lay in this bed up under a man that belongs to someone else, while the strong possibility of carrying his child looms over us—she’d drop to her knees. And me along with her, too weak to stomach the look of disappointment on her face. 

Whatever we have—or whatever I think we have—it’s dead. The sun shines on all living things and we’ve never even touched the light of day. So, I might as well lay to rest whatever is left or whatever is expected to come. I already know what he’d want. I don’t need to ask or consider. 

He’s married. Happily or not is irrelevant because he’s not unhappy enough to leave. He made a promise in front of God and his family. She’s who he goes home to. He still comes in whatever luxury hotel room, whatever time of the night, relieving himself of that black band that he displays to everyone except me. 

So, it doesn’t really matter what results come from those tests when I get back home. Just like us, it’s already done. 

A/N // as always, if you read it or even a portion of it, i am forever grateful💗 feedback is welcomed.

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[helloalycia]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

two / three / masterlist / wattpad

summary: when you become friends with Skye Riley and watch her grow into the pop star she is, that unfortunately means you get a front row seat into her demise.

warning/s: mentions of substance abuse, injury and death.

author's note: okay so this took forever and i’m very sorry for the wait! i started writing it but it just kept getting longer so now it's 3 parts 😂

a few things to note - the smile demon thing doesn't exist, it's just a story about her bc why not. Also her friend Gemma (?) also doesn't exist bc i couldn't think of a way to include her in the story lol

okay that's it, enjoy!!

The thing with Skye Riley was she was always so full of hope and passion and optimism for her craft. From the very first day we met, I knew she would become something special to so many people out there. I just never intended for her to become something special to me.

She was just starting out, some rising star doing a performance for a local TV station in the city. I didn't even know who she was, never having heard of nor seen her before. The reason I was at the station was because it was another one of my odd behind-the-scenes photography jobs I'd landed, fresh out of university at twenty-two years old.

I was messing with my camera near the snacks table when I felt a presence and looked up to see her grabbing some grapes from the fruit bowl. She didn't notice me at first, but I definitely did a double take, not knowing she was the talent at first, but thinking how pretty this girl was. She must have felt my gaze as she looked up and flashed me a picture-perfect smile, almost making me melt there and then.

"Hey," she greeted.

I blinked before smiling. "Hi! Sorry, I was just daydreaming."

She chuckled before nodding to my camera. "You work here?"

I glanced down at my camera. "Yeah. Well, kind of. It's only temporary. I'm doing some stills for their website. You?"

She hummed, intrigued. "Nice. I'm performing, so it might be me you're shooting. Do get my good side, please."

It was then that I realised she was Skye Riley, the talent booked for the day. "Shit, you're the guest."

She began to laugh, in a sweet, reserved kind of way. "I am, yeah. I'm Skye."

"My apologies, Skye," I said sheepishly. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Y/N."

"Y/N," she repeated, before smiling softly. "It's all good." She picked at another grape before continuing, "Between you and me, this is my first ever TV appearance and I'm scared shitless."

I realised she wasn't kidding when she didn't smile. Clearing my throat, I tried to reassure her. "I'm sure you'll be great. Clearly you're here for a reason. Just... try not to overthink it. Be yourself."

She glanced out at the stage. "I suppose you're right." Her gaze returned to mine with a half smile. "Thanks."

"At least if the interview goes south, you know you'll get some good photos from it," I joked, lifting my camera in the air playfully.

She laughed wholeheartedly, thankfully not offended. "Gee, thanks. Can't wait to see 'em."

I couldn't help but smile as I said, "I'm kidding. I'm sure you'll be great, Skye."

Before she could respond, someone called her name and she looked out to them before giving me a nervous smile. "I guess that's me. Was nice meeting you, Y/N. Maybe I'll see you around."

"You too," I responded. "And yeah, maybe. Break a leg out there."

She gave me a final smile before leaving to join her manager – who I eventually discovered was her mum – by the stage. I wasn't expecting to see her again, though I was definitely blown away by her talent when she performed that night. And as far as TV appearances went, she nailed it.

I suppose that being the same age in a world of adults and both starting out in our careers at the same time made it easy to talk to her. Especially when I was covering another last-minute paying photography gig at some flashy charity event that she just happened to be at.

It was her who spotted me this time, as I got some shots of the guests dancing around on the dance floor. I felt a tap on my shoulder and straightened up, wondering who it could be.

"Y/N?" her voice called as I turned around, certainly surprised to see her. When she saw me, her smile widened. "Yes, I knew I recognised you. It's me, Skye! Not sure if you remember me from the TV thing last month."

I was surprised to see her, but equally thrilled, returning her smile. "Skye, yes, of course I remember you. I didn't expect to see you again if I'm being honest, let alone so soon."

She chuckled. "At least you're honest. I'm glad though. I really enjoyed our chat last time." Her eyes looked me up and down. "You look good."

I felt my cheeks grow warm, knowing she didn't mean it like that but still unable to accept compliments from pretty girls. "Thanks, so do you."

And I wasn't lying. She looked amazing in her glitzy purple dress, long, curled dark hair and smokey eye makeup. In just the month since we'd last seen each other, her music was already blowing up more and more, and she was really starting to come into herself as a star.

"Thanks," she said with a grin. "So, are you working this event too? That's so cool for you!"

"Yeah, it's definitely a great opportunity," I replied, glancing around. "Just trying to get the best gigs I can, y'know? Get my name out there."

"Well, I personally loved the stills you took of me," she complimented sincerely, dark eyes glittering under the lights. "I think you're really talented."

"I think you might be biased," I said, unable to take the compliment, "but thank you."

She rolled her eyes playfully before nodding behind her. "Do you wanna get a drink and chat or are you not allowed? You're actually the only person I know here."

I was surprised she wanted to talk more, but also felt the same way. "Erm...," I paused, checking my watch and glancing around. "I should really work or I might get told off. But I finish in an hour, before the event ends. I don't know if you're still around then?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely," she said with a bright smile. "I'll be hanging around if you wanna find me? I'd love to know more about these photography gigs of yours."

I exhaled softly, nodding. "Sounds good. Only fair you tell me all about this becoming-a-celebrity gig of yours then." She laughed at this and it brought a smile to my lips. "I'll catch you later, Skye."

She nodded, satisfied. "See you in a bit."

And from there, it was safe to say we became friends. After getting to know each other better and exchanging numbers, it was easy enough to make a friend in the same boat as me, even if her boat was slightly different to mine. Of course, it was my mistake to be even mildly attracted to my new friend because that was not a good starting point for our friendship.

Because of how close we got, close enough for us to consider each other a best friend, she invited me to join her on tour as a documentary-style photographer. I was still building my experience and portfolio whilst she claimed she just really didn't want to be alone on her first ever international tour, so it was a win-win.

It was during the tour that I realised how much I actually liked her, in a dangerously non-platonic kind of way. And any little thing she did that was slightly touchy had me stumbling over my words – which was almost all the time because she was the touchiest friend I'd ever had.

It could be something as simple as braiding my hair for me and I'd forget how to breathe, or one time I was sat in her dressing room, listening to her mum talk about the show when she decided she wanted sit on my lap. Such casual friend things and yet I was malfunctioning every time.

Naturally, I forced myself to get over it.

—

Spending our 20s together meant I got a front row seat to her eventual decline into substance abuse. She was already an anxious person, though did well to disguise it, but her quick rise to fame and the constant pressures of her team did her no favours.

The first time I truly witnessed just how much she dealt with was about a year later, when she lost her voice in the midst of preparing for another tour. I was hanging around the side of the stage as they did a rehearsal a few nights prior to her first show, simply showing my support, when everybody noticed the croak in her throat as she attempted to sing a verse. After realising she couldn't, she was taken to a doctor.

"She's been under too much stress and her vocal cords are worn," the doctor explained to her mum in her dressing room, Skye sat opposite her. "She needs vocal rest."

Her mum seemed uncertain. "How long will that take?"

The doctor began to pack her things away as she spoke, "I'd advise a minimum of a few days, but she probably needs a week."

"She doesn't have a week," her mum snapped. "Her first show is in a couple of days. Thousands of fans are expecting to hear her sing."

I glanced at Skye, noticing the guilty expression she wore as she looked down to her hands. Her mum was always putting pressure on her like this and it was never nice to see her. I settled for resting my hand on hers, earning her attention, and squeezing it gently to let her know I was there for her.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Riley, but your daughter is in a lot of pain and if she keeps going like this, she won't even have a tour," the doctor said impatiently. "Give her the rest she needs and she'll be okay."

Her mum sighed. "Fine. Thank you, doctor."

The doctor nodded before giving Skye a reassuring smile and leaving the four of us alone – including Skye's mum's assistant.

"Sorry, mum," Skye muttered, and I nudged her gently in warning.

"You just heard the doctor," I reminded her. "No talking."

Her mum merely massaged the bridge of her nose with frustration, as if working out what to do next. It was harsh, insensitive even, but it wasn't my place to intervene.

"Okay, it's okay," she decided, before looking to her daughter. "You can still rehearse everything else. No vocals until the first show."

Skye nodded, standing up, but I quirked a brow as I looked to her mum.

"Shouldn't she rest?" I said, holding back my critique as much as I could. "If anything, it'll help her recover quicker. The doctor said she's already under stress."

"Dancing won't kill her," her mum said dismissively, before nodding to Skye. "I'll see you back out there, okay?"

Skye nodded as I raised my brows with disbelief, watching her mum and mum's assistant leave. Only when they were gone did I scoff and look to Skye.

"Are you serious? You need to rest, Skye," I told her. "You don't have to listen to her, you know."

Skye closed her eyes, frowning as she shook her head. I then realised my complaining wasn't helping and relaxed slightly.

"Sorry," I said quietly. "But it's not right. And if you were hurting, you should've said."

She swallowed thickly before opening her eyes and forcing a smile that didn't reach them.

"Skye...," I started, but didn't want to upset her anymore than she clearly already was. Instead, I gave her a hug, hoping it would mean something.

She wrapped her arms around me and didn't let go, not until I did, and I only did because we were hugging way too long and I didn't want to piss her mum off even more.

"Take it easy," I said to her when we pulled apart, searching her gaze. "Stop if it's too much, alright?"

She nodded, squeezing my hands gently, but I knew deep down that she was only saying what I wanted to hear, or rather doing what I wanted to see. She was too obedient to her mum and didn't want to let everyone down, even if it meant working herself to death.

It was all of these little things adding up that inevitably pushed her to seek out an escape where I just couldn't help her anymore.

The first time I realised it might be an issue was that same tour, about halfway through, when I was photographing some of the crew the day before a concert to eventually use in the tour documentary they were making of Skye. It was a fun day for me since I loved hanging out with the people who made the magic happen, and I was excited to show my photos to Skye back at the hotel like I always did. Only, this time, when she let me into her room, I realised she was drunk.

If it wasn't the acrid scent of alcohol that clung to her clothes that gave it away, or her giddy nature as she flopped on her bed, it was the countless mini bar bottles and cocktail glasses littered around her room.

"Did you... have a party with yourself or something?" I asked with confusion, sitting at the edge of her bed.

She laughed like I'd said the funniest thing ever smacking my hand gently as she stared at the ceiling. "Something like that."

I watched her, mildly concerned. "Are you gonna be okay for sound check tomorrow? Your mum might actually kill you if you show up with a hangover."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, it's not that bad. It's a one-off, honest. I just wanted some fun."

Stupidly, I believed her. "Okay, well... maybe we should attempt to sober you up. C'mon."

She groaned, rolling over to stick her head under her pillow. "Later."

"Skye, please," I tried to reason. "Have you eaten anything?"

She ignored me and I took that as a no.

"I'll order some room service, yeah? Get some food in you," I said, talking to air as she continued to ignore me.

I had it easy enough that evening, looking after her. And even though she did wake up with a hangover the next morning, she promised she'd never act so irresponsibly again. I didn't care, I just didn't want her to struggle.

Of course, that was only the start. Whereas we'd usually hang out together after her shows, she began to leave to hang out with some of the crew and their friends. I wouldn't have minded since she was her own person, but it meant she'd come back absolutely hammered and it only worried me. It kept happening, to the point that it was a regular thing. Even after the tour ended, it was almost impossible to see her without a drink in her hand.

We fought about it at first, but I didn't want to push her away even more, especially into the arms of her shitty Hollywood friends. She was once open but now she'd hide things from me, making it difficult to know exactly what she was up to. I couldn't control her and I didn't want to, but she didn't seem to understand the severity of her actions.

It kept getting worse as the years went on, especially when she got a new boyfriend. They were awful for one another, terrible influences. Skye became more irritable to everyone around her, including me. It was like being friends with a completely new girl. Between the drinking and the partying and the drugs, I couldn't keep up. And as much as I cared about her, I wasn't important enough in her life for her to even consider listening to.

The final straw was when the paparazzi released some photos of her having a breakdown, screaming at some poor makeup artist for no reason at all. A joint was in her hand, she looked a mess, and it was enough to send her mum in a livid spiral. I wanted to stay out of it, but when her mum practically forced me to go to her and try to knock some sense into her, I had no choice.

When I knocked on the door of Skye's apartment, she saw it was me and rolled her eyes but let me in.

"She send you to fix me, did she?" she asked, walking to the kitchen.

I tried not to get offended as I stepped in and closed the door behind me. "It's bad, Skye. You look insane."

She faked a laugh. "Wow, way to fuckin' sugarcoat it."

I sighed, leaning on her kitchen island and looking over at her. "Are you gonna act childish with me right now or are we gonna have an actual conversation?"

She raised her brows, surprised and irritated. "Seriously?"

Maybe it was the years of putting up with her on-again off-again mood swings, or maybe it was just her complete disregard to listen to anyone who cared about her, but I'd had enough in that moment.

"Skye, you're embarrassing yourself," I said sternly, meeting her red-rimmed gaze. Of course she was high. "It's concerning and these pictures should be a wake up call."

She narrowed her eyes. "Good job I didn't ask your opinion."

I rubbed my face, fed up of her anger. "Skye, I'm not trying to argue."

"Then stay out of my fucking business, Y/N! You're always on my back about this shit and it's getting old."

Ignoring her tantrum, I said, "I'm worried about you."

Suddenly, she began to laugh slowly, quietly, mockingly. "I bet."

Confused, I watched her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She tilted her head as she nodded at me, arms crossed over her chest condescendingly. "It's written all over your face. You're in love with me."

I couldn't really comprehend what she'd said, not at first, but then my face felt hot and I felt like I'd been caught out.

"God, you're so obvious!" she whined loudly, approaching me. "You've been obvious with it. All these fucking years."

How did she know? How could she?

"You- you don't even know what you're saying," I finally spoke, cursing inwardly when I stumbled. "You probably won't even remember this in the morning, you're that fucking high."

"Oh, I'll remember," she assured me with a smile so cruel that it looked nothing like my best friend. "Because it's written all over your face."

She poked me in the cheek and I swatted her finger away instinctively, ashamedly, making her laugh.

"You're terrible at hiding it," she continued, eyes flickering between mine. "It's laughable."

Every part of me was screaming to leave, to run away and never come back. My skin was crawling and I wanted the earth to swallow me up, hot with shame. Tears pricked my eyes, embarrassed and hurt by how cruel she was being, how careless she was with my feelings.

"Did you think there was a shot?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Is that why you stuck around all this time?"

I frowned, attempting to glare at her, but it was a foolish one. "I stuck around because I care. Because you're my friend."

"You're lying." She laughed again.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Forget it."

"It's forgotten."

I couldn't even look at her, turning around to leave. Never had she been so hurtful with her words.

"Oh, fine, fuck off like you want!" she shouted as I opened the front door.

I clenched my jaw as I glanced back at her. "You've become such a bitch."

She glared at me. "Better a bitch than a shitty admirer."

My heart crumbled, but I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. "Fuck you."

And with that, I slammed the door and left. Though, not without breaking down on the lift down to the lobby.

—

She never called to apologise. She never texted to check in. And I wasn't going to crawl back to her, not out of worry or friendship or anything. She'd made a fool of me, hurt me so much that I felt like an idiot. Because I was. I was the idiot who had my love for her practically tattooed all over my face. How could I have been so foolish?

An almost ten-year friendship gone, just like that.

Months passed and it was admittedly strange not to have her in my life. Even though our relationship had drastically changed for the worst, she'd been a consistent part of my life. And now she was just... gone.

The anger and embarrassment easily turned into hurt, which turned into sadness, and I found myself missing her greatly. But she made no effort to get in touch, so I knew I needed to move on.

It was those few months later when her car accident was all over the news. That was how I'd found out. She'd been on a drive with her boyfriend who unfortunately died, and she was in hospital. Or, at least, that was all the press knew.

As frustrated as I was with her, none of it mattered when I found out what had happened. Every part of me was concerned, wanting to know if she was okay. I was so close to calling her mum and asking to visit Skye in hospital, but I was too cowardly to do it. I'd convinced myself that she wouldn't want me there. Still, I missed her greatly.

A year passed soon enough and the only connection that I had with Skye Riley was the same as all of her fans – through a TV screen. Her story was in the headlines for ages – her public breakdown, her accident, her rise back to stardom. Interviews, the announcement of her new album, her new tour... I avoided it where I could, but she was a superstar and it wasn't always easy.

I'd gotten over her. I had. I never expected to hear from her again and that was okay.

Until I got a call out of the blue and it just so happened to be her.

"Hello?" I answered the unknown number with confusion.

"Oh, sorry, I thought you might still...," the girl on the other side mumbled, before clearing her throat. "It's Skye. Erm, Skye Riley."

I stopped what I was doing, surprised to hear her voice. "Oh."

"Sorry, I know this is really random," she said quickly, nervous, "but, erm, I... I wanted to– I'd like to see you." She paused, then added, "If that's possible."

My brain was still playing catch up from the fact that she'd even called, let alone that she wanted to see me. I didn't know what to think.

"Why?" I finally asked, not trying to be hostile, but genuinely surprised.

She paused, and then spoke, "I miss you. A lot."

I furrowed my eyebrows, looking down. "Skye, it's been a year."

She chuckled nervously. "Well, I've been in rehab for half of it..." When I didn't laugh, she continued, "Sorry. I just– I want to apologise. To explain. Ideally in person."

It didn't make sense. Why now?

"Please," she said quietly, noticing my silence.

I sighed, closing my eyes. As easy (and satisfying) as it would've been to tell her no and hang up, a part of me still cared. And annoyingly enough, I'd never gotten closure which had haunted me for a while. Maybe this could be it.

"Okay," I breathed out.

"Really?" She was as surprised as I sounded when I'd answered.

"Yeah," I said before I could change my mind. "Maybe this–?"

"Tomorrow?" she cut me off without meaning to.

"Oh," I started, but she spoke again.

"Sorry, never mind," she said nervously. "When did you want to meet?"

"No, tomorrow should be fine," I agreed.

I heard her exhale with relief. "Great. Good. Is around three okay? Maybe we can get a coffee or something."

"Sure."

"Great, thanks," she said quietly. "I'll text you."

"I'll save your number," I said without thinking.

She laughed awkwardly, making me cringe at my own discomfort. "Yeah. Thanks. See you tomorrow."

After saying my goodbyes and ending on an awkward note, I took a moment to acknowledge what just happened. Getting a call from her was genuinely the last thing I'd expected, but I was willing to hear her out. If not for her sake, then for my own.

—

I couldn't stop spinning the ring on my finger, a nervous habit of mine, as I walked into the bistro downstairs to Skye's dance studio. We'd agreed to meet there after her rehearsals since it was usually only staff that frequented it so it wouldn't draw attention from her fans.

When I walked in, I glanced around, seeing it was empty for the most part, save for one or two patrons. And then I finally spotted her sat at a booth on the side, looking a lot different to how I'd last seen her, though still very similar to the girl I once knew.

When she saw me, she perked up, looking as nervous as I felt, and I had no choice but to walk over to her. She stood up, blinking, unsure whether to speak first.

"Hi," I said, when she didn't, meeting her flittering eyes.

"Hi," she responded, before swallowing thickly and glancing at the table and then me again. "Erm..." She leaned in to give me a hug, which I had no choice but to return, but it was awkward on both sides. When we pulled apart, she smiled uncomfortably. "I– sorry, I–"

"It's fine," I said quickly, before nodding awkwardly.

She slid into her side of the booth so I did the same, hoping she couldn't hear my irregular heartbeat. I looked over at her, noticing her new look. She'd cut off the long, dark hair she'd had as long as I knew her, donning a pixie cut that was now dyed blonde. I'd seen it in the press, but it still took some getting used to. Suited her though. Annoyingly, she was still as beautiful as she was the day I'd met her.

"The new look is nice," I spoke, breaking the silence and nodding to her.

A nervous smile crept on her lips. "Thanks." A pause and then: "You look good, Y/N."

"Thanks," I mumbled, smiling just as nervously.

She pushed an iced coffee towards me, saying, "I ordered for you, but I'm now realising your favourite order could've changed since we last... yeah. I can get you something different if you want."

I looked at the drink, reading the label, surprised she'd even remembered. "No, no, this is still my favourite. Thanks, Skye. You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do," she replied with a shrug, playing with the lid of her own coffee. "I... thanks for meeting with me."

I glanced up at her. "I thought I'd never hear from you again to be honest."

She frowned, looking down. "I know. I debated calling sooner. I... I owe you a huge apology." Her eyes met mine with the utmost sincerity. "I'm sorry. For all of it. For the way I took advantage of your kindness, your friendship. The way I ignored your warnings and support. And–"

She stopped, eyes flickering to her drink guiltily, and she didn't even need to say it for me to know what she was remembering next. Everything she'd said to me before I left for good. How horrible it was, how embarrassing it was. Even now, I couldn't look at her, my face growing warm. After all this time, it was still so humiliating.

"It was awful, I know," she said quietly.

I didn't know what else to say other than, "It was."

At this, she sighed. "I know it's unforgivable and that this isn't an excuse, but I wasn't in the right head space then. I just– I miss you. After the accident..."

When she was quiet for a second longer than usual, I looked up at her, seeing a faraway look in her expression.

"Skye?" I prompted, a hint of concern in my voice.

She shook her head, glancing at the table before meeting my gaze. "Sorry. I just– I miss you and I wanted to see you."

"You keep saying that you miss me, but you had a phone," I pointed out gently, not trying to argue but unsure how to believe her. "You could've called. Especially after the accident."

I wanted you to call, I so badly wanted to add, but it was embarrassing to admit.

"I tried to," she said with a frown. "I didn't think you'd want to see me again after what I said."

I searched her gaze, saddened to hear that. "You thought I wouldn't have wanted to make sure you were okay? Just because of one argument? That I wouldn't have put all of that bullshit aside to make sure you were actually alive?"

She didn't meet my eyes, but she shook her head weakly, and I realised I was a being a little unfair despite it all.

Sighing, I leaned back in my seat, drawing shapes in the condensation of my cup mindlessly. "It's not fair of me to say you should've called. It was a lot, I can imagine. And I had a phone too, I know. I just... I didn't think you cared  anymore. After everything, I thought the last person you'd want to see in hospital was me."

"I don't blame you for thinking that," she muttered, picking at her coffee cup lid again. "It's far from the truth though."

A quiet fell between us as neither of knew what to say nor where to go. It was a lot to digest, knowing she regretted how things had ended up. Selfishly, it was all I'd wanted all this time – an apology and some closure.

"I want to make things right," she said, eyes flickering up to mine.

I met her halfway, exhaling gently. "I forgive you, Skye. I appreciate your apology."

The tension in her shoulders seemed to relax, as did her expression, and she nodded slightly. "I'd like to try again. If you would."

"I figured that's where this was going," I admitted, before nodding slowly. "I'd like that too."

She breathed out with relief, containing it behind a simple nod, and it meant a lot to me that this meant a lot to her, more than I thought it would.

"I really missed you," I said, feeling like a weight had been lifted.

Her eyes were glassy as she gave me a small smile. "I really missed you too, Y/N."

I stood up, as did she, and hugged her properly. It was unlike the previous one and she returned it with just as much relief, the two of us clinging tightly to one another like it was the last.

It was still a mystery to me as to whether rebuilding a friendship with Skye would be for the better, but my heart was saying to do it and I couldn't help myself. She was so easy to give into, so easy to fall back into place with.