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[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 7 : Sweet Strawberry

Summary: You're not a soldier, you're just an omega. You shouldn't have to remind them of that, yet you find yourself needing to. Price makes it up to you in the best way possible.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, fluff, suggestive content, terrible flirting

A/N: Not entirely happy with it but it's done and I can move on from this one. I struggled so much with this chapter omg. Also, I just wanted to make it clear that I am not from the UK, I've never been to the UK, I'm simply going off of prior knowledge and what Google can tell me. So, if there's any inaccuracies, I am so sorry.

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You’re expecting the knock when it comes. You’d been standing in front of your door for almost five minutes, and you get it open almost before he’s finished, hand still raised. He gives no sign that betrays his surprise, if he feels any at all, instead he simply looks you over before turning on his heel and marching towards the door. 

You close your door behind you, slipping down the hallway after him. It’s raining again, though you had prepared for that, flipping the hood of your jacket up as you hurry after Ghost. He threatens to disappear in the darkness of morning, slipping between the street lamps like a specter. It’s not often you get to see the true danger in them, the threats that they pose, the things that make them good at their job. You can imagine how many on his opposing side have been caught unawares by the way he seems to flow with the darkness around him. 

You are significantly less graceful and quiet, feet slapping the wet pavement as you speed walk to keep up with the giant alpha. You can almost imagine the look on his face as you plod along behind him. If your lives depended on your silence at this moment, well, it wouldn’t entirely have been your fault. If he didn’t walk so fucking fast...

He’s at least courteous enough to hold the door open for you, though perhaps that was simply something that was deeply ingrained in him. Manners that become unconscious practice, even when you despise the person you’re with. He leads you down the hall towards the practice room again, unlocking it and flipping on the lights. He empties his pockets and removes his shoes and sweatshirt, before moving to one of the punching bags. 

You can already predict what your lesson today will entail. Your knuckles have almost completely healed since your little fit a week ago. You quickly strip off your jacket and toe off your wet shoes, moving to join him without having to be told. 

“Do you know how to wrap your hands?” He asks, holding out two rolls of hand wraps. 

“No.” You shake your head. It’s not entirely true. They had shown you once while you were with the CIA, but that had been weeks ago and you’re sure you’ve forgotten the right way to do it. Even if you tried, he’d likely sigh and do it himself anyway. 

He lets out a breath, pocketing one of the wraps before grabbing your right wrist. His hands are just as rough as you remember them being the day you punched Corporal Allen, calluses dragging against your skin as he meticulously wraps the fabric around your fingers. You watch him, trying to memorize how to do it in hopes that maybe, eventually, you’ll surprise him and manage it yourself. 

He finishes your hands quickly before wrapping his own. You flex your hands, trying to get used to the feeling of the wraps. They’re not too tight, shockingly. You had half expected him to choke your fingers until they’re purple just because. But, you also know Price will be looking for any mark or sign of injury as soon as he sees you at breakfast. The thought of him laying into Ghost for even a bruise as your stomach twisting, and not in a bad way. 

“Make a fist.” Ghost says, crossing his arms as he stands in front of you. 

You stare at his bulging muscles for a second too long, quickly curling your fingers as your face warms. 

He takes hold of your hand, inspecting your fist. “Not bad.” 

“I did grow up with brothers.” You murmur. 

“Did they ever hit you?” He asks as he turns you to face the boxing bag. 

“Only playfully.” You say, missing the subtle edge to his voice. “Dad would have caved their heads in if they ever tried.” 

You can’t see the way he’s staring at you as he stands slightly behind you, but you can feel his gaze as it lingers for just a second longer than you expected it to. You’re not sure if maybe he doesn’t believe you, or maybe he knows there’s more to the story. You’ve hardly spoken about your family since your arrival, but they seemed to accept the fact that they haven’t been your family for years now as a valid reason.

“Get into your fighting stance.” He finally says, moving around you as you take the stance you had perfected last training session. “Good.” He says, looking you over. “Now throw a punch at the bag.” 

You squeeze your fists, imagining Corporal Allen’s face on the bag before you throw a punch, barely managing to move the bag. 

“Punches like that are what will get you hurt.” Ghost says, extending your arm. “You can throw your weight, which is good. That’s why you were able to throw Allen off his feet. You’re asking for a broken arm, though. Keep your arm flat and facing downwards through the entire punch. Aim with the knuckles and twist your lower body for support.” 

He throws a punch at the bag, the sound of his fist hitting it loud, and you watch the bag swing back and forth violently. He could probably punch through you if he wanted to. Your pitiful punch wouldn’t even stun him. 

He stops the bag from swinging, having you throw repeated punches at it. He fixes your form and technique as you go, teaching you different kinds of punches. Your arms quickly get tired, and you know you’re going to be sore again. Maybe you should take up some weight lifting or something. You could ask Soap to help you. 

You go until your arms feel like they're going to fall off, your shoulders burning. “I can't anymore.” You whine, breathing heavily from the exertion of throwing punches for 30 minutes. 

“You have to learn to push through the pain.” He says, looming over you. “You think in a fight, everyone will just stop because your arms are tired? Or you're a little sore?”

He has a point. 

You take half a step back as he invades your space, leaning down close to you. “If they're out for blood, they won't even stop even as you're bleeding out in front of them.” His eyes are dark, biting into you, speaking volumes of his knowledge and experience. You wonder how many times he's been in that situation, how many times he's had to fight quite literally for his life. He steps away from you, moving towards the center of the mat. “Come on. I'll teach you some combinations.” 

You don't want to follow him. You want to curl up in a corner and nap for the next four hours. You don't doubt he'll find a way to force you, though, so you move to the center of the mat with a sigh. 

He teaches you different combinations, working through them over and over. You're sloppy, mixing up which punch is which, which move means what. It only gets worse as you get more and more tired, but Ghost is relentless. 

Finally after almost an hour and a half of training, he calls it. Your legs are shaking and you can barely lift your arms to unravel the wraps from around your hands. You sink onto the floor, laying out flat on the padding as you try to catch your breath. 

“Come on.” Ghost says, lacing up his shoes. “You'll have time to shower before breakfast if we get back now.”

“Wait. Just gimme a minute.” You breathe, not even sure you have the willpower to get up from the floor, much less the muscle power. 

He lets out a sigh before approaching you, bending down to slip his hands under your arms. “On your feet, soldier.”

He lifts you easily, far too easily. Your legs shake, nearly giving out as you're forced onto them. You pout, ignoring the ache in your bones as you're forced upright. 

“‘M not a soldier.” You murmur. 

“In here with me, you are. You want to learn to fight, you get treated just like everyone else I've taught.” He says, glowering down at you. “Now get your shoes on and let's go.”

Your brows pull into a frown, but you do as he says, slipping your shoes back on and your jacket. You had hoped perhaps he would have a little mercy, given your status and inexperience, but it seems you're not even being awarded that. You know part of it is his revenge for you invading his protective circle around Soap, for kissing Soap in front of him. 

The frown doesn't leave your face as you follow him back to the barracks, having to almost run to keep up with him. 

“You look tired.”

“I am. I had training with Ghost again this morning.” 

“How is that going?”

“It's hard.” You admit, sinking back in your chair. “He's hard on me. He sees me as a soldier, not an omega.”

“Have you brought this up to him?” Dr. Keller asks, crossing her feet as she relaxes on the couch across from you.

You nod. “Yeah. He said I have to push through it, because if I wind up in a real fight, they won't go easy on me.”

“Well, I can’t say he’s wrong about that. But, that’s still no excuse.” Dr. Keller tilts her head at you. “You could bring it up to Captain Price. He is your pack alpha, and he’s also Lieutenant Riley’s. I don’t doubt he’d bring it up to him on your behalf.” 

He would, but you don’t really want to stir the pot in that way. The last thing you need to do is become a tattle-tail. It’s quiet between you for a few moments, Dr. Keller shuffling her papers as you mark a clear end to that conversation. 

“How did you do on your assignment? I see you’re wearing a different sweatshirt this morning.” She says, eyeing you. 

You’re wearing Price’s sweatshirt, the one he gifted you. You’ve been wearing it almost every day, his scent still clinging to the fabric. Your face warms as she stares at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, but...I didn’t ask for this one. Price gave it to me after I told him about where my other one came from. I uh...I kissed Soap. And Gaz.” 

“Oh?” Her brows raise, and she writes something down on the paper. Your face warms even more as you watch her pen move with every letter. You can only imagine what she’s putting down. “Is that something you wanted? I know we talked briefly about it last time.” She says.

You nod. “Yes. I did want it. I...I also...kneeled...with Price...Did a couple times actually...” 

Dr. Keller’s mouth opens in surprise, her eyes shining as she looks at you. “You did? That’s huge! That’s an incredible development! Did you initiate, or did he?” 

“I did.” You say bashfully, sinking back further into the chair. “Both times.” 

Dr. Keller smiles at you, looking almost proud. “This is a big step in the right direction. How did it go? Were you able to relax?” 

You nod. “Yeah. It was nice. He was...gentle. He did it right.” 

“Good. How did you do coming down from it? I know it can be intense and difficult for some omegas.” She asks. 

You shrug. “Fine. I felt it a bit the morning after, but it wasn’t too bad. I fell asleep on him both times.” 

“Oh?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Did you stay with him?” 

You shake your head. “No, Gaz took me to my room both times.” 

“Good. That’s good practice, for when your heat comes. Shows how much trust they have in each other.”

You hadn’t really thought of that. There was a lot of trust involved in omega’s heats. Omegas have to trust their alphas to take care of them while they’re blind with insatiable need, but both alpha and omega have to trust a beta to keep them alive. Your heat will trigger Price’s rut and make him lose control for a while, and it will be up to Gaz to keep you both fed and hydrated. He’ll be the one to help you both afterwards as well.

“Have you started nesting yet?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You shake your head. “No. Don’t feel any drive to either.” 

Dr. Keller hums as she writes something down. “Well, it has only been two weeks. Though, perhaps if you can manage to ask for some things to make your space more comfortable, that might help ease you into it.” 

You chew on your lip, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You know she’s right. Until you’re comfortable and feel safe enough, you won’t feel the drive to nest. You’ll need to nest before your heat arrives. Otherwise, it’ll cause issues for both you and Price. 

“When...when should I be worried?” You ask. 

“Hmm...” Dr. Keller looks at her calendar. “If you’re not feeling any sort of drive to nest by our next appointment, then I’d say we may need to consider using some exercises to help jump start it.” 

“Exercises?” You ask warily. 

“All easy things.” She reassures you. “Things like scent introductions, tactile explorations, and some bonding exercises might be helpful as well.” She writes something down on a sticky note. “I’ll explain everything in detail and you’ll get to choose whether you want to do any of it or not. No one’s going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright?” 

Tears prick your eyes at her words, and you furiously blink them back. It’s a little late for that kind of sentiment. Your presence here alone was thanks to a long line of people forcing you to do things you’re not comfortable with. It was easy to get lost in the excitement and the emotions of bonding with a pack, easy to forget that you would never have chosen this place had you ever been given the option to choose. 

You would have gone far from the military, far from this kind of life. It’s your duty to bond with an alpha, but what if you don’t want to? What if it’s all a front, and as soon as you’re claimed the curtains rise and suddenly everything is different? What if Price isn’t as kind as you’ve come to believe him? Just one squeeze too tightly around the back of your neck while you’re kneeling and everything would change. 

How easily he could take everything from you. 

“You want to talk about what’s going on in your head right now?” Dr. Keller asks, breaking the silence between you two.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d been staring off into space, lost in your thoughts. Of course she knows something’s changed. She’s spent years learning the ins and outs of omegas and all the secrets you can only imagine. She’s probably just as in tune with subtle changes as the four well trained soldiers that make up your new pack. Maybe even more in tune with them. 

You shake your head, keeping your gaze on the floor. 

“Remember nothing shared in this room leaves this room. It’ll always only be between us.” She says softly. 

You’re panicking. You can feel the pressure rising within you. You’re like a grenade and someone is about to pull the pin. You’re afraid you’ll spill everything to her, afraid you’ll let out things you’ve successfully kept buried for years and years. Things you’ve left behind, things you’ve had to move on from. Things you can’t afford to let out now. 

“I’d like to be done now.” You silently curse the way your voice shakes. 

Dr. Keller’s brows pull into a frown but she nods. “Okay.” She slips her papers into her notebook before standing. “Let me grab my keys.” 

You stand as she moves to her desk, grabbing her keys from the drawer. She leads you from her office, thankfully staying quiet as you walk through the rain towards the barracks. You’re still panicking, the turmoil inside you probably projecting the sour scent across the entire courtyard but you don’t care. You can’t. 

“Remember, if you ever need anything, I’m usually in my office.” Dr. Keller says as she drops you off at the door. 

You feel guilty as you hurry to your room, shoes squeaking on the tile. You feel bad for cutting the appointment off early, you feel bad for feeling the way you do. Later you’ll be grateful for Dr. Keller respecting your boundaries and not pushing, for following through with her promise and letting you be in control of the appointment. 

Right now you don’t care. Right now you can’t care. You’re too lost in your turmoil, the bitter scent of your distress seeping out from under the locked door. 

“...can ye talk tae me, hen? Let me know yer alright?” 

The soft voice coming through the closed door pulls you out from your burrow under the thin blanket. You blink blearily at your phone, trying to see the time. It’s just a little past the normal time you go to lunch with them. How long have they been knocking on the door? 

“Come on, lass.” Soap’s voice comes through the door again. “I dinnae want tae have tae kick in the door.” 

You force yourself out from under the blanket, pocketing your phone before quickly moving to your door. You throw it open, Soap’s eyes immediately scanning you as you rub tiredly at your eyes. You don’t doubt he’d kick in your door if he felt he had to. 

“Sorry,” You yawn. “I was asleep.” 

His eyebrows raise as he stares down at you. “Ye were asleep? Ye weren’t kidding about bein’ a heavy sleeper.” He leads you from the barracks, crossing the courtyard towards the mess.

“One time, when I was about two or three, my dad took us to some demonstration on base.” You say as you begin walking to the mess with him. “I fell asleep about halfway through and slept through a howitzer going off.” 

Soap lets out a laugh so loud it echoes in the courtyard. “Ye slept through a howitzer?” 

You nod. “Yup. My dad never let me live it down. I heard it all the time. ‘You’ll have to try hard to wake her, she slept through a howitzer once.’” 

Soap chuckles, leading you into the mess. “Ye are a deep sleeper.” 

You shrug. “I did say so. My phone will wake me up though. Alarms, calls.” 

“I’ll keep tha’ in mind.” He says as he guides you through the line, making your tray for you. 

You sit between Price and Gaz as usual, feeling a bit on edge still despite your nap after your appointment. You hadn’t gotten to sleep for very long, not nearly long enough to clear your head completely. You know they can tell, Gaz slowly shifting closer and closer to you, Price’s gaze flickering to you out of the corner of his eye every so often. Even Ghost’s eyes pass over you every so often as they sweep across the mess. 

You wonder if he feels responsible. 

You hope he does. 

Soap walks you back to the barracks after lunch and you spend the afternoon burrowed under your blanket again. You’re exhausted and sore after a long morning of training and your appointment. You wish you could sink back into sleep, let the emotions pass without you having to feel them, but you’re too awake now. Too aware of them as they prickle in the back of your mind. 

Dinner passes without incident, but you can’t ignore the feelings still stirring within you. You feel agitated and on edge, not even pacing your room helping you. You let out a breath before you put your slippers on, slipping out of your door. You make your way down the hallway, turning right instead of left like you would if you were heading for the rec room. The door is cracked open and you pause just before you reach it, suddenly feeling nervous. You shouldn’t really. There was no reason to be nervous, yet you can’t help the urge in the back of your mind to turn tail and race back down the hallway to the safety of your room. 

“You can come in, unless you’d prefer standing in the hallway all evening.” A voice calls from inside the office. 

Your face warms a bit at getting caught, but he could probably hear you coming down the hallway. He could probably smell you too. 

You push open the door, slipping inside before closing it behind you. Price stares at you from his desk as you stand there, shifting nervously on your feet. You feel agitated, on edge still. You’re worked up, and you don’t quite know why. 

“Everything alright?” Price asks, likely picking up on your nervous energy. 

Yes. You want to say, but then you’d have to come up with a reason as to why you sought him out, why you feel so worked up. You could just kneel for him. It’s what you should do, let yourself be eased into a peaceful state of mind. Let him take care of you. 

 “I don’t know.” 

The words are hardly more than a whisper, your voice trembling just as much as you are. Your chest feels tight, your breaths becoming shallow. You're not sure when he got up, when he even moved. His scent wraps around you, warmth encompassing your being as your face is pushed against his chest. 

“I need you to breathe for me.” Price says, pressing your ear against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart, the air flowing in and out of his lungs. 

You close your eyes, trying to match your breaths to his. It's hard, your body fighting your attempt to regulate it. You close your eyes, focusing on the soft fabric of Price's shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his hand on your head as he keeps you pinned against his chest. It's not constricting or suffocating. It's grounding, keeping you from drowning in your own thoughts. 

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to as he holds you there, letting you calm down. You begin to slowly relax, your arms wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt. 

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” He murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head. 

“I don’t know.” You whisper, still clinging to his shirt. “I’m just...I feel off. Ghost was being hard on me this morning and then I got upset during my appointment and I’ve just felt on edge all day and I can’t relax because I can’t get comfortable!” 

Price tightens his grip around you just slightly. “What do you mean?” 

You huff out a breath, squeezing your eyes closed so the tears don’t escape as the words leave you in a flood before you can stop them. “The blankets aren’t soft enough and the pillows are too thin and it’s too dark and I’m tired of smelling like bland soap!” 

Price hums quietly, squeezing you gently as a tear slides down your cheek. “Then we should do something to fix that.” 

“But I shouldn’t need it!” You cry, trying to push away from him, but he keeps you tight against his chest. “I’m supposed to be a good omega and adapt and learn to be comfortable where I am.” 

“That might be what you were taught,” He says, letting you push away from his chest, but he wraps his hands around your arms, keeping you in front of him. “But things don’t have to be that way. We should have taken care of something like this sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t even think of it. You shouldn’t have had to ask for it.” 

You blink up at him, genuinely surprised by his words. “I...what?” 

“We all have our own little comforts that we keep. Soap sleeps with a stuffed bear. Don’t tell him I told you that.” 

A small smile tugs at your lips at the mental image of Soap snuggling up with a teddy bear. 

“You deserve some comfort too.” He says, squeezing your arms.

“But, it’s not...regulation.” You say. 

“Doesn’t have to be.” He says. “You’re not a soldier. Even then, the only ones going in there are us. The only thing I can’t approve of is painting the walls. Unfortunately the prison grey has to stay.” 

You can’t help but laugh, wiping the tear from your cheek. “I suppose that’s alright. Just...as long as it’s not as dark and maybe a soft blanket or something. That’s really all I need.” 

He hums, staring down at you. You can’t quite figure out the look on his face, something shining in his eyes. “We’ll get it figured out.” He says, squeezing your arms again. 

“Get some shoes on. We’re going on a trip.” 

You look up from your book, staring at Price as he stands in the rec room. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, arms crossed as he stares down at you on the couch. You mark your place in your book, pushing yourself up to sit. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and unlike last week they had the day off, which means you do as well. 

“Are you going to make me hike through the woods for two hours again, sir?” You ask, pushing yourself up to stand. 

“No. We’re going into town.” He says. 

You blink at him. You haven’t been off base since you arrived, and you figured you probably wouldn’t be getting that opportunity any time soon. “Can I ask why, sir?” 

“We’ve got some shopping to do.” He says simply, turning and leaving the rec room. 

You stand there shocked for a moment before you’re following after him, slipping into your room to put comfortable shoes on and grab your phone and a jacket. You don’t even have a wallet to carry around to make yourself feel better. 

Price is waiting by the door for you, a car parked outside. You’re slow to approach him, suddenly feeling a mix of emotions. He’s doing this for you. He’d really taken your conversation last night to heart and now he’s going to go spend money on you that he doesn’t need to. 

“What’s that look for sweetheart?” He asks, standing in front of the door. 

“You don’t have to do this.” You say, staring up at him. He seems so tall like this, so...imposing. 

“Course I do.” He says, his gaze softening just slightly. “Should have done it sooner. You deserve to be comfortable too.” He says, turning to open the door. 

You follow him out, climbing into the car when he opens the door for you. He gets in the driver’s seat, the car rumbling to life. He drives to the front gate, passing off two ID cards to the guards. He passes one to you when the guard hands them back, the gate in front of you opening. 

“That’s your ID card. Gets you on and off base.” He explains as he drives away from the gate. “I doubt you’ll be leaving on your own, but just in case.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, slipping the card under your phone case for the time being. 

He glances at you, a small smile on his lips. “You can call me John, if you'd like. You don't need to be formal when we're in private.” 

“Yes, sir.” You make a face, biting your lip at your automatic response. “Sorry. Old habits.” 

“From the institute?” He asks. 

You shake your head. “My dad, actually. He was a firm believer in respecting authority figures. All ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ by the time we were old enough to know the difference.” 

“Sounds like my father.” He says, staring out at the road ahead. “Old grizzled military man.” 

“Do you still have contact with him?” You ask curiously. You don’t know much of anything about their families, their backgrounds.

“Not really. Beyond holidays, neither of us really make an effort to talk to the other. After mum passed, there wasn’t much to talk about.” He says. 

“She was the glue.” You say, watching the trees pass by the car. 

“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “As betas usually are.”

“Do you have any siblings?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. You know next to nothing about them, while they likely know your entire life story. 

“No,” He shakes his head. “Just me. You have a lot of siblings.” 

You nod. “Seven at the time I left for the institute. Could be more now.” 

“They never tried to keep contact with you?” He asks. 

“Nope.” You turn to look out the window. “The institute didn’t really encourage it either, because we were being prepared to join new packs. That’s hard to do when you still have bonds with your old ones. I think they might have forcibly ended some. I know there were some omegas that tried to keep contact, but it became less and less until eventually it just stopped.” 

Price’s hands tighten around the steering wheel just slightly. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention. Silence settles in the car as he drives, farmlands passing until the houses start getting closer and closer together. You stare at the buildings as he drives through town, a blend of historical and modern. 

“It’s beautiful here.” You say, watching people and cars pass by. 

“I suppose so.” He says, glancing at you. “I grew up in this area.” 

You turn to look at him. “You did? I didn’t know that. Then again, I don’t know much about any of you.” 

“You can ask us, you know.” He says. “We don’t have to be that secretive with you. At least not about ourselves.” 

He pulls into a parking lot, opening your door for you and helping you out of the car. You slip your hand into his, holding it as you cross the parking lot. You stare up at the store. ASDA. You’ve never heard of it before, though you suppose the stores would be different here too. 

Price drops your hand to grab a cart, the store bustling with people. You hang onto the edge of the cart, staying close to Price’s side. “We’re here for you.” He says, guiding you through the aisles. “Get whatever you want.” 

He’s led you to the homegoods section, your eyes widening at the entire aisle of blankets and bedding in front of you. You try to take it all in, but you feel a bit overwhelmed. There’s so many choices, so many options. 

“Pick out as many as you want. Don’t worry about the price.” He says, before you can protest. “We get paid decently, but don’t have many chances to use it. Let me do this for you.” 

You stare up into his eyes, the sincerity in them, before you nod, turning back to the wall of blankets before you. You study them, running your hand along them to find the softest ones, doing as he says and ignoring the price tags. You settle on a couple soft ones, grabbing a throw blanket as well that you can pack around to the rec room if you want to. He takes you to the pillow aisle, and you settle on a pair of fluffy pillows, as well as a couple decorative ones as well. 

“Here.” He slips a big plush strawberry into your arms before you leave the aisle, your cheeks warming as you look at it. “Makes me think of you.” 

You preen at his words, holding onto the strawberry as you make for the lamps and nightlights, settling on a cat shaped one that will sit on your desk and changes colors. You pick up a few other items before heading for the toiletries, finally setting the strawberry in the cart as you zero in on the soaps and body washes. You smell all the strawberry scented ones, trying to find the perfect one. 

“Why strawberry?” Price asks as you put a strawberries and cream scented body wash in the cart. 

“Compliments my scent.” You explain as he leads you to the shampoo and conditioner. “We had a scent specialist come to the institute one time as an activity. We all figured out what our scents smell like and what notes compliment them the best.” 

An arm wraps around your waist before you can look at the shampoo, pulling you back against a broad chest. Price’s nose presses into your neck and he inhales deeply. He lets out a content hum, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. “I think you’re right.” 

Your face burns hot as he presses a gentle kiss against the side of your neck before releasing you. You stand there for a moment, trying to calm the heat rushing through your body and focus on the shampoo. You hear him chuckle as you shuffle forward, your face still burning as you smell the shampoo bottles. 

You settle on one, holding onto Price’s arm as you continue around the store, picking up a few other items and a couple for himself as well before heading to the checkout. 

You hold on to Price’s arm as you leave the store, sticking close to him as he loads the bags into the trunk. You can feel the slight tension in his body, the way his eyes scan the parking lot every few seconds. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for him to relax, especially out in public. How fast his mind has to be running, how alert he is to everyone and everything. A threat could come out of nowhere, could come from anyone. 

It must be exhausting. 

“Hungry, sweetheart?” He asks as he buckles his seatbelt. 

“Always.” You answer, leaning on the center console.

He smiles. “What are you in the mood for?” 

You blink at him. Most of the restaurants you know probably don’t exist in England. “Fish and chips?” You offer, pulling up the one British food you’re confident in naming. 

“Fish and chips it is.” He says, turning on the car. 

“I have yet to have real fish and chips.” You say, settling into the passenger seat. 

“Well, I know the perfect place.” He says, pulling out of the parking lot. 

You don’t have to go far before he’s parking on the street and helping you out of the car. His hand settles on your lower back, guiding you down the street to a fish and chips shop. 

It's too early for the dinner rush, the shop mostly empty and quiet. Price orders for you before guiding you to a table, and you let him sit facing the door and front window. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. They seem so relaxed on base, though you suppose that's the place they feel the most comfortable. You can't even imagine the kinds of things they've seen, the horrors they've been subjected to. 

You don't want to think about the things they've done. 

Your eyes snap downwards as Price's hand slides across the table, closing around yours. You don't want to think about the things he's done with those hands. The lives he's taken, the people he's tortured. Will he ever turn those hands on you? 

They've given you no reason to fear them yet. They've all been kind, polite. Even Ghost hasn't truly given you a reason to fear him, despite his obvious disapproval and hard exterior. 

You know nothing about them. 

You've known them for just over two weeks. You can't possibly have any understanding of who they are, how they express their emotions. What if they get upset? What happens when they get angry? What if you anger them?

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Any of it.” Price says, drawing you from your worried thoughts. “I know you were taught to expect this, perhaps not this exact situation, but something like this. Being sent off to some strange alpha to join their pack, bonding with complete strangers. None of us were expecting this either. It’s been an adjustment in a lot of ways, but I want you to know that we’ll take care of you. You need anything, you tell us. You want anything, we’ll do our best to make it happen. We’ll keep you safe.” He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I promise you that.” 

You want to believe him. You really do. They haven’t given you any reason to not believe it. 

It’s only been two weeks. 

You continue to talk with him as you eat, making light conversation, getting to know him a bit more. Despite the trickling uncertainty in the back of your mind, it feels good. It feels like a date, something you had dreamed of before you presented, something you had imagined happening when you finally got old enough to start looking for potential mates and packs. 

Of course, back then, you had thought you’d be an alpha. 

It had been expected of you. 

Price has his arm wrapped around you as you walk back to the car, his hand on your hip. It’s possessive almost, and it makes your stomach flutter. Price is the only one you haven’t kissed yet, well, besides Ghost, but you’re certain you’d wind up through a wall if you even thought of trying. It’s almost ironic that Price would be the last, considering he’s going to be the one claiming you, the one you spend your heat with. 

You stare out the window as the buildings fade into farmlands again. The sun is setting, painting the world in oranges and reds. You still feel a bit warm from Price’s possessive hold on you, his teasing in the store. You can still feel the tickle of his beard on your skin, his lips pressing against your neck. 

You jump when rough fingers trail down your arm, pulling it from where it had been resting in your lap. 

“You were right.” Price says as he lifts your hand to his face, pressing his nose against your wrist and inhaling for a moment. “Strawberries are the strongest note in your scent.” He lowers your hand again, lacing your fingers together. “What’s got you all worked up over there.” 

You stare at him, your face getting warm again. Of course he can smell it. You can smell the muskiness beginning to form around the edges of his scent. Desire. “You haven’t kissed me yet.” You say, moving his hand into your lap. “You're the only one that hasn't...well, besides Ghost.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You sound disappointed.” 

You untangle your fingers with his, letting his hand rest on your thigh. “What if I am?”

His fingers flex against your leg, the muskiness of his scent strengthening. “Then maybe we should fix that.” 

The cocktail of scents in the car is intoxicating, and you feel bad for the poor beta soldier at the gate when Price rolls down the window to hand off your IDs. 

Price is out of the car as soon as it's parked, moving around to your side to open the door. He pins you against the side of the car as soon as you're out, caging you in with his arms. 

You stare up at him, head swimming with the musk laced in his scent. You can see his eyes shining in the light next to the door of the barracks. He looks like a hungry wolf, the back of your neck prickling with excitement. 

He leans down, breath fanning your face as he gets closer and closer to you. You press yourself against him, hands gripping his shoulders as he presses his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, his beard tickling your face. He growls quietly against your lips, pushing you harder against the side of the car. 

You let out a quiet sound in response, hands gripping his jacket. His hands slide from the car to your sides, sliding down to grip your hips. You can feel the muscle hidden beneath his jacket and shirt, the strength that he possesses. He may not be purebred like Ghost, but he’s still every inch an alpha. 

You let out another quiet sound as he pulls away, pressing a caste kiss to the corner of your lips. “Bloody hell, now I know what those boys were on about.” He breathes, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“They were talking about me?” You ask, pulling back slightly. 

“Only good things.” Price grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “Sweet as sugar.” He breathes, kissing you again. “And just as addicting.” He pulls away from you, his hands resting on your waist. “We should get your stuff inside so you can get it all set up. Want me to fetch one of the boys to help?” 

You bite your lip. “Or you could just do it.” 

He stares down at you, something flashing across his face but you can’t quite make it out in the low light. “You’re sure?” His voice is quiet, taking on that soft tone it often does when he speaks to you. 

“You’ll have to eventually.” You shrug. “Might as well start now.” 

He leans down, kissing you again before pulling away, opening up the trunk. He grabs most of the bags, only leaving the pillows for you to grab before he leads the way into the barracks. You open your door, stepping in first before he follows. You dump your pillows on the bed, and he sets the rest of the bags on your desk. 

“Blankets in the wash.” You say, digging them out of the bags, pulling the tags off. 

“I’ll take them.” He says, fishing out his stuff from the bags before taking the blankets from you. 

You switch out your pillows for the softer ones, organizing the decorative ones just the way you want. You squish the strawberry to your chest again, a smile forming on your face before you flop back onto the bed, sinking into the soft pillows. It’s almost perfect, you think. 

“Comfortable?” Price’s voice rumbles in the doorway, a smile on his face as he stares at you. 

“Much better.” You say, sitting up and placing the strawberry in its place. 

The two of you finish taking everything out of the bags, decorating the rest of your room. The posters on the walls, and the nightlight on your desk. It feels far more homey already, and you know you’re going to sleep well tonight once the blankets are out of the wash. 

“Thank you.” You say, looking up at Price. “This really means a lot.” 

“All in a day’s work, love.” He says, pulling you into his arms again. 

You lean against his chest, resting your head over his heart, listening to it beat steadily against your ear. 

You wake up suddenly, yet you’re not quite sure why. There’s no one in your room, your new nightlight easily showing you that. Your mouth is dry, but there’s a line of wetness down your chin. You reach across your nightstand, your phone illuminating the time. 

Just past one a.m. 

You smack your lips, feeling thirsty after the excitement of the day. You’d forgotten to grab water when you left the rec room and you huff out a sigh. You don’t want to get up, but now that you’re aware you’re thirsty, there’s no stopping those thoughts. 

You don’t even bother with slippers as you pad to the door, opening it up. You leave it cracked as you sleepily shuffle towards the rec room, the barracks almost dead quiet this late. You grab a bottle from the fridge, unscrewing the top before drinking a few gulps. It’s cold and tastes divine, soothing the dryness of your mouth. You screw the top back on, closing the fridge before heading back towards your room. 

You turn the corner, still half asleep, nearly yelping as you slam into a chest. You stumble back a couple steps, staring up at the covered face looming over you. You gulp, holding the bottle to your chest. 

“S-Sorry.” You stutter. 

“You’re out of bed.” He says quietly, voice rumbling in the silence. 

“Thirsty.” It’s all you can manage as you hold up the bottle. 

He stares at you for a long moment, eyes flickering all over your face. His chest is heaving, almost as if he had been running before you ran into him. His hands are closed into fists at his sides, knuckles almost white with how tense he is. You think for a moment he might be mad, but you can’t catch any whiff of ozone in the air. Your nose prickles at the scent, but it’s not anger. 

Your tired brain can’t make sense of it, yearning to sink back into the softness of your bed again. You slowly shuffle around him, taking cautious steps, waiting for him to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. He simply watches you go, standing there in the hallway as you slip back into your room, not moving until he hears the click of your lock slipping into place. 

NEXT ->

Taglist:

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[rikiluvly]

TWO SIDES TO A BOY

*ੈ ✩ ‧₊˚𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒’𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒?

PAIRINGS: spiderman!riki x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: Spider-Man is the local legend in your city and the one identity that no one can seem to figure out. but one day you and your friend Jungwon decide to do a film documentary about finding out the identity of Spider-Man, If only you had known earlier that it was your high school crush, Nishimura Riki.

GENRE: Spider-Man au, high school au, fluff, lots of crack, first person.

WARNINGS: swearing, inappropriate jokes.

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

*ੈ ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

If there was one word to describe Spider-Man it would be COCKY. he is this dude who wears a skin-tight latex suit and swings around the city looking for someone to save from possible danger. but while people are out here swooning over the mystery person behind the mask, I'm here swooning over Nishimura Riki.

everything about Riki is perfection. his hair, his lips, his eyes, even his figure for goddamn sake. I thought Jungwon was the maximum height for a guy until my Riki came along.

as soon as Riki joined our school he instantly became best buddies with Jungwon. my friend Jungwon, my only friend Jungwon. so because of that, I had to pull myself together and become friends with Riki too.

It was before school and me and Jungwon were walking into the school gates. we were just talking about whose mom makes the best cookies until we felt a giant breeze come from above us.

the one and only Spider-Man came swooshing through the school here to make his weekly delivery of a girl who faked she was in trouble just to get his attention. Spider-Man placed the girl down in the courtyard as everyone came rushing in to catch a glimpse of the one and only superhero.

"thank you so much Spider-Man!" the girl thanked him. the poor guy.

"your so very welcome lovely lady," he saluted and swung off to wherever he came from. a typical morning if I have to be honest. you looked behind you to watch Spider-Man swing away, but he had already disappeared. not like you cared. he was overhyped anyway.

"where the hell is Riki we have to get to first period," Jungwon grumbled. It's not surprising that he isn't here, he's quite known for being late around school.

"I dunno, don't ask me," Jungwon rolled his eyes as he took a look at his watch. his eyes widened and he clutched onto my wrist a tugged me behind him as he sprinted.

"jeez, why u so desperate to get to class won?" I asked as I got pulled through the hallway. we got a few stares but what's there to expect when I probably looked like a running chicken?

we had finally made it to class but with a few sacrifices. I now smelled like a 15-year-old boy who forgot to put on deodorant and my hair was now frizzed up to the max. Jungwon brought his hands to his knees and breathed like an old man who was at minimum lung capacity.

"okay," he took another deep breath before standing up properly. "let's go," he lifted his bag straps to sit perfectly on his shoulders and strode into class with a beaming, bright smile.

what a weirdo.

*ੈ ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

it was the middle of literature and me and Jungwon were thinking intensively about what our film documentary should be about. except all of our ideas were stupid.

"what about... 'why The Office UK is better than The Office US?" Jungwon said raising his eyebrows at me. he was right, The Office UK is better than the US one... but I refuse to waste time trying to convince the people in our class to choose what was an unpopular opinion.

"mmm, what abou-" suddenly and very rudely the door to our classroom slammed open. it was my Riki. all of a sudden I don't mind that my eardrums nearly exploded because of the loud noise.

"sorry I'm late miss... I overslept," he said obviously lying, but it's okay I forgive him. he looked over to me and Jungwon and smiled as he made his way over.

"not so fast Nishimura, your late so you're going to have to join another group," the teacher pointed at him. nope. I swear to god If he gets put with Wonhee I will cry. Wonhee is this girl, this girl who tries to act dumb to get guys to like her. I have also heard from a few people about how she has a crush on Riki, oh how I hate this girl.

"mmm, how about with Wonhee and Moka," I did say I would cry but it would’ve been too embarrassing. I watched him as he turned to walk toward the girl who indeed just wants Riki all to herself, she is so selfish.

after that interesting moment, me and Jungwon went back to brainstorming ideas. but my eyes just couldn't turn away from him. he’s so pretty that it hurts to see him talk to other girls, but there is no stopping it really. unless I decided to kill her but that's a bit extreme.

"ok y/n I think I got it now," maybe if I cut my hair he might like me.

"y/n, girl stop ignoring me," or if I changed my make-up routine? nah, I'm pretty enou-

"Y/N STOP STARING AT RIKI!" Jungwon screamed loud enough for the whole class to hear. I looked around only to see many stares, how embarrassing. Wonhee eyed me up and down and I couldn't bare to even look at Riki.

"Jungwon that's enough, everyone back to work," the teacher said.

"I hate you Jungwon, don't do that again or I will tell the whole class you have a crush on Moka!" I blackmailed him, obviously because that's what friends do.

"fine! fine! whatever. okay, can I tell you my idea now?" you shrugged still slightly annoyed. If Riki ever found out I liked him it would be over for me. I may as well just move to New Zealand, they've left that place out of the map a few times right?

"so I was thinking what about we do a documentary on finding out the identity of Spider-Man?" you couldn't lie it was a terribly good idea. you could have good dialogue and maybe you could really become famous for figuring out this mystery. what's the harm?

"okay then, let's do it."

*ੈ ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

it was lunchtime, my favourite part of the day. yummy food, gossip, and what makes it especially good is the fact that I get to sit close to Riki. It was just me and my one and only at the moment because silly Jungwon wanted to help tutor students.

"so... what did you and Jungwon decide to do for your documentary?" his deep voice spoke from across the table.

"well, we're doing 'figuring out the identity of Spider-Man'," I waved my hands out to show the vision. he didn't seem very impressed, was he mad?

"uhhh, you good Riki?" he seemed to have zoned out for a bit so I waved my hand in front of his face. didn't think I was that boring.

"huh? oh yeah I- I'm fine just eat your food," he nodded his head towards my tray. anything you say, Riki. it got a bit awkward and I really wanted to say something but he looked too lost in his thoughts.

I don't actually know what I did but this is the only time I prayed for the appearance of Jungwon. I can’t believe my friend of 10 years would do this to me.

It was the first day of year 1 and I had just walked into my new classroom. none of the other kids really caught my attention.

until I spotted this lonely boy chewing on the carpet. a bit weird I know but I just went and joined him. but then my mum got mad and his mum got mad and that's how our parents became friends. so really I'm stuck with this carpet-chewing cat the rest of my life.

but... still no sign of Jungwon. you really don't know what to say. you try to think of something that will comfort him in his time of need.

"are you sad because you're actually Spider-Man hahaha," I laughed to myself slowing stopping when I realized I wasn't funny. he didn’t seem impressed as his eyes widened and he said this.

“I actually got to go… sorry y/n,” he got up and dumped his food in the bin. why do I always mess things up?

the rest of school was terrible. apparently Jungwon had left because he had mono. the Jungwon I know has never kissed anyone in his whole life so to me that isn’t very believable.

I was just walking home thinking about what I did to mess up my interaction with Riki, until an adorable kitten came up to me.

the kitten was back and white and looked like it was wearing a suit. how are cats so relaxed? sometimes I wish I was a cat.

well maybe not this time.

the feline suddenly stood up and transformed into a frickin monster? a 9-foot cat was now in my presence and usually I'd be used to seeing weird and strange things around town, but when it's happening to me, it's a different story.

this humongous shit then came charging at me on it’s four paws. I sprinted the other way screaming my lungs off, I was genuinely scared. what if I would never get to sort things out with Riki or I would never see my family again, and whose gonna look after Jungwon?

I turned the corner thinking about how this may be my death. this is the one time I prayed for Spider-Man to save me…

please save me Spider-Man.

*ੈ ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

“I am not laughing, this shit isn’t funny Jake,” I raised my voice at Jake who was lying in my top bunk.

“I’m sure she was just joking Riki,” he sat up and swung his legs over the ladder.

“whatever, but if she finds out it’s over for me,” I sat down on my wheeley chair and tilted my head back as I spun. if y/n found out it would ruin everything with her.

“I say… ya tell her,” Jake said as he threw a ball at me.

“she’s literally doing her literature documentary on ‘findings out the identity of Spider-Man’, I don’t think that’s a good idea man,” I threw the ball back at him.

why is being the best superhero in the world so tough. If on queue I head some loud as screams coming from below my bedroom window.

I took a look out the window and there was y/n running in front of a giant cat? actually, now that I think about it she was running away from the giant cat.

“shit Jake I think that’s y/n!” I dragged him down from my bed so he can take a look.

“should I save her?” I said scratching my head.

“dude, what kind of question is that!?”

“right, okay!” I stripped off my shirt and pants to slip on the most uncomfortable thing ever. this fucking red suit.

“see ya Jake,” I saluted to him as I fell down my window backwards. I used my webs to grab on to the nearest light posts to try to catch up with y/n.

“you alright ma’am!”

"NO! WHAT DO YOU THINK?!" she was out of breath I could tell. so I used my webs and wrapped them around this fat shit of a cat. I was branched on top of a light post as I pulled the feline so it could stop moving. once the fuck was squirming around I put my index and pinky finger out to wrap the cat fully in webs. easy.

"th- thank you Spider-Man," y/n said as she tried to catch her breath. I jumped off to land right in front of her.

"no problem, you alright?" I'm not going to lie that even though y/n is in a pretty rough state, she still looked really pretty for someone who nearly died.

"yeah, yeah I'm fine... but you sound really familiar Spider-Man," she raised an eyebrow at me. shit. I quickly wrote a note to the police saying: 'big fat cat for you to deal with po po, from Spider-Man' and I placed it on the body of the animal.

"uh- I've gotta go pretty, but make sure not to get into any more trouble!" I shouted as I swung away leaving her standing there confused.

I climbed back up into my room only to see Jake had left. I slipped off my suit and put on some more comfortable clothes just to climb up onto my bed and just lay there. school is shit 98% of the time, the only thing really keeping me there is Jungwon and y/n. being a fucking superhero is also shit; having to save people constantly, being chased down by literal aliens, and the thought of someone finding out it's me.

Jungwon and y/n won't find it out though right? right?

*ੈ ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

"I NEARLY FUDGING DIED WON!" I screamed at Jungwon through my phone. that was really something I did not expect to happen.

"you really should have been there. oh and what is the real reason you left school? there is no way you got mono."

"mono? now who told you that?"

"Sunoo..." now that I say it out loud, it seems less believable. Sunoo is known around school for spreading gossip and rumors about people.

"right, well it's nothing really... but being saved by Spider-Man, my goodness y/n!"

"I KNOW RIGHT?! and if I'm being honest he sounded pretty familiar, but I just couldn't put a face to the voice." that shit had been bothering me my whole walk home after the incident. who could it have been? I'd ruled out Riki though because I could recognize his voice from a mile away.

"well, tomorrow at school I will bring my camera to film him in the morning. AND BE SAFE! you can't just go off and start dying on me."

"yeah, yeah bye loser." and then I hung up.

maybe Spider-Man isn't so bad after all.

A/N: this took too long and it's only 2k words omg. n e ways Middle Of Nowhere pt 2 soon!

TAGLIST: @heerinnie @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @j-wyoung

[smashing-teacups]

My very dear friend (who is so grumpy that J&C hijacked her brain again when she wanted a break 🤣) @theawkwardterrier tagged me in an invite to share a section of one of my WIPs. So hey, how about a peek at an upcoming chapter of Atonement? 👀

______

In the second month, they began their respective job searches in earnest.

On that particular front, Claire had an undeniable advantage: there was a terrible nursing shortage throughout the UK, and more job postings than she knew what to do with. She had enough experience to be accepted at practically every bedside position, and so she had the ability to be selective.

A very fortunate state to find herself in, she found out rather quickly, as there were a number of positions that… well, positions she wasn’t sure she would be best suited for anymore.

Wound care, for example, was definitely out. Just reading the vague clinical expectations under the first post made her snap her laptop shut, her skin chilled and mind numb. She held Jamie from behind later that night, tears soaking her pillow as she traced the scars that had once been open flesh. The memories were as vivid as if she were living them all over again; she could see the snake of saturated pink gauze she’d pulled out of his back by the meter, watch her gloved hand depress a syringe of morphine into his IV, hear her own murmurs of reassurance as she reached wrist-deep into the cavernous wounds to begin packing them again…

So, no. Nothing with wound care.

Anything on a neurology floor was likewise out of the question. The prospect of monitoring an EEG took her right back to the endless days and nights when those incomprehensible squiggling lines were burned into her retinas, watching for any change that might signify a seizure. The ICUs in general were out for that same reason. Just the sounds alone — the non-stop beeping of monitors and IVs, the whoosh of the ventilator and hiss of suction equipment—

She couldn’t.

Her damned glass face as she scrolled the job boards must have told her husband far more than she ever would have said aloud; it didn’t take long before she woke to find a folded newspaper on the kitchen table alongside her morning coffee. Circled once, with a question mark beside it, was an advertisement from a local primary care office in town, seeking a clinic nurse.

Claire looked over the top of the paper to find Jamie watching her apprehensively, as though unsure if he’d overstepped. The moment she caught his eye, he dropped his gaze and blew on his steaming coffee. “It’d be quieter than ye’re used to,” he said around a careful sip, “but somethin’ to consider, mebbe.”

Softening with tenderness, she reached for his hand across the table. “No, it’s—it’s a good thought. Thank you. Maybe I need the quiet, I don’t know.” With a sigh, she smoothed her free hand over her face and back into her hair. “That’s just it, I don’t… I don’t know what it is I want any more.” Peering up at her husband through her lashes, she admitted with a self-deprecating smile, “Suppose I’ve just been hoping I’ll know it when I see it.”

Returning the smile so that his soft morning eyes crinkled with it, Jamie brought her knuckles to his lips. “I’m sure you will. The right job’ll find ye when it’s meant to, Sassenach. I know it.”

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Introducing #14!

[picrew]

Current name: Aerie Fay (yes this is my name too and I'm aware this is cringe sowwy)(we will be referring to him as Fay, Farris, or 14 to keep it from being too confusing!) Past names: Aaron Farris in college. And many more! Age: 23 (when he joins the Foxes) Height: 5'6"  Gender: male Sexuality: gay/demisexual Position: Striker/Goalie (also bottom lol) Number: 14

(more under the cut. it got... long)

Background:

Played striker through middle school. Started playing goalie in high school. So, he can handle both but is a better goalie than striker.

He has younger twin siblings. One boy, one girl. He hasn't seen them in years. And does not want to. (They know what they did. :/)

One day during his senior year, his best friend tried to kiss him and he blurted out that he was gay. She got pissed and outed him to his parents, who did not take it well. When they eventually kicked him out, he moved in with his boyfriend's family.

Marcus:

They met at one of Fay's games. Marcus had come to watch his younger cousin play and they bumped into each other. Marcus kept coming and would cheer for his cousin and Fay. Since his family didn't support him, it meant a lot.

Eventually after a game, Marcus asked him out and Fay was really flattered, so he said yes.

The bad thing was... Marcus was 21 when they met. Fay was almost 17. (He thought he was 'mature for his age' and didn't see the gap as a problem. It was.)

Unfortunately (?), one night while the two of them were sitting on swings in a park, Marcus was shot and killed in a drive-by. Fay was also hit, but survived.

Aftermath:

Waking up in the hospital and being told his boyfriend was dead took a huge toll.

He didn't believe them. He demanded them to take him to Marcus. And when they couldn't/wouldn't, he sort of lost it. He attacked a couple nurses, breaking one's nose and spraining one's wrist.

After that, he was promptly sedated and moved to the psych ward for a bit. He does not like to talk about it.

The Ravens:

Fay was nearly recruited to the Ravens. And he was so excited. It was his dream. He was so set on it that Marcus's nickname for him was 'little bird'.

But he was in the hospital when he was supposed to go audition for the team. By the time he was healed, Tetsuji wouldn't allow him to. (So he dodged a huge bullet there. Like. We can all agree to that. Right?)(Well, he's about to run into a different one. :()

The Wildcats:

Having lost his boyfriend and his dream, Fay was understandably devastated. But Marcus' parents liked him. They helped him change his name to Aaron Farris, because he didn't want to be connected to his parents anymore.

And then he accepted a scholarship to UK, his second choice school. (UK= University of Kentucky, btw.)

Everything is fun and great and wonderful. Except for one thing. The captain is weirdly touchy with him. Especially after he turns eighteen.

It keeps getting worse and worse. Luckily, a couple of his teammates/friends notice that Captain Creep (senior starting striker, Collin Scott, #38) has been creeping on him and try to run interference.

Their coach thinks he's making it up. That he wants to be a starting striker and is trying to get Collin kicked off the team about it. (14 was playing goalie so that made no since. But the coach was Collin's uncle, so...)

Eventually, Farris gets injured during a match. Fucks his knee straight up. He has to stay off the court for a couple months. But at least Collin is graduating! That means he won't have to deal with that anymore-

Wait. Collin has decided to stick around for a fifth year. Shit.

Farris decides he can't play for UK anymore. He drops and loses his scholarship. And then he doesn't know what to do.

The Butlers:

But Marcus' parents are mafia. Farris had no idea. That's why Marcus was killed, it was one of his father's rivals sending a message.

He offers Farris a job.

So, with a freshly-healed knee and a new identity, he starts to do low level mob work. Kill someone here, deliver something there, don't ask questions. (Never ask questions.)

He ends up traveling the country and working for a dozen different bosses, doing a lot of terrible shit. Making friends and enemies and money.

Uh. Oopsie. This got super long and we're still not at the part where he joins the Foxes yet. TwT I'm going to cut it off here anyway and if anyone is interested, I will definitely be down to tell you more! <3 Also if you have any questions about 14, please send me an ask. I will be so happy to ramble about him! :3

Tagging: @joanofexys and @ordei <3

[soshiharin]

introducing me

summary: in which harin meets someone new

set: mid march 2005

word count: 3.6k

warnings: mention of food, vomit, diet; slight angst

an: dialogue in bold are english, dialogue in bold italics are italian. i fought through writers block to complete this so if it’s not spectacular, theres the explanation. feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 💐

harin’s masterlist

“And that’s one of the vocal training rooms,” the company staff member said, pointing at the door where the faint sound of someone singing could be heard. “You’re a vocal trainee, so you’ll mostly be in one of these rooms.”

Harin nodded, looking around her at the different rooms.

The staff member checked the watch on her wrist, sighing lightly. “I have to get going now because I have a meeting, so I’ll have to find someone to finish the tour with you…” she looked around them, feeling despaired at not seeing any trainees. Just then, the door to the bathroom opened, revealing a young dark-haired girl. “Oh! You there,” she called out, pointing at the trainee, who quickly rushed to the staff member.

“When is your next class?” The staff member asked.

The trainee looked around the hallway walls for the nearest clock, shaking her head when she didn’t see one. “My next class is at quarter past five, seonsaengnim.”

The staff member checked her watch once more. “Okay, that’s in ten minutes.” She put her hand on Harin’s shoulder, squeezing it slightly. “This is Jang Harin, she’s a new trainee. I was just giving her a tour, but it took longer than expected and I have a meeting, so I need you to finish giving her the tour.

The trainee eyed Harin as if just noticing she was there. She nodded her head after some time. “Okay, seonsaengnim.”

“Good, good. Don’t forget to ask any questions, okay?” She directed the question to Harin before leaving quickly.

Harin nodded awkwardly as she assessed the girl in front of her. She looked to be around the same age as her, both girls having a bit of a youthfulness to their faces. “I’m Jang Harin,” she introduced herself.

The girl nodded, bowing her head in greeting. “I’m Kwon Yuri,” she said. “How old are you?”

“I’m fifteen internationally. So that’s… seventeen in Korean age,” she said with a nod.

“Ah, are you from out of the country?”

“Yes… I lived in Italy and the UK.”

Yuri gasped softly. “I don’t know any Italian,” she muttered under her breath. “Um… What rooms have you seen already?”

Harin stared at Yuri for a second before answering, “I’ve seen the vocal ones.”

“Okay. Thi–This way.” Yuri pointed down the hall and began walking. “Dance room.” She pointed at one of the doors that they passed. “Boys’ room.”

“I forgot to ask you, but how o–”

“Speak English,” Yuri interrupted her. “You speak English, fine.” She did a thumbs up. “You are… foreigner, so it’s okay to not speak Korean. Don’t force yourself to speak Korean.”

“Okay,” Harin said, making sure to speak with a London accent, “I’ll speak English. How old are you?” She asked her question again.

Yuri gestured between the two of them. “Same. December.”

“Ah…” Harin nodded before pointing at herself. “November.”

They finished the rest of the tour within seven minutes, Yuri trying her best to explain the various rooms in English — she ended up saying half of the sentences in Korean, but Harin didn’t say anything about it — as they walked on.

Yuri clapped her hands when she finished showing Harin around. She pointed over her shoulder. “Dance class,” she said.

Harin nodded, understanding what she was saying. “Okay. Thank you for the tour.” She bowed politely, Yuri reciprocating before leaving in a rush. Harin sighed, watching as the girl ran off. “She’ll have to run down the stairs to make it in time for her lesson,” she muttered to herself. After frequently changing schools growing up, Harin became amazing at memorising building layouts, the SM Entertainment building being no exception.

She made her way to her vocal class that started in ten minutes, deciding to just be early. When she entered the room, she saw three other girls sitting inside, none of them talking to each other. She took a seat against the wall, near the door, smiling timidly at the other trainees. All but one ignored her, sending her a polite smile in response before continuing to hum to herself. Harin didn’t take it personally, she already knew that not everyone would be friendly or particularly excited to see a new face — that’s just one more person to beat out for a chance to debut. She just crossed her legs and began to warm up her voice.

There weren’t usually that many trainees at the company so early. Since she went to an Italian international school, her school day ended at 13:30, meaning she would be at the company early, as opposed to most of the other trainees, whose school days ended at 16:00. So she was shocked to see a group of eight girls in the cafeteria, having a late lunch at 15:13.

She wordlessly put food on her plate, making sure to avoid all of the seafood options. Sitting down at one of the many empty tables, she opened the book that she was reading in her free time.

“Oh, Harin-ssi!”

She looked up to see a girl approaching her excitedly, much too excitedly. Her hair was in pigtails and she had a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead, a dark tint on her lips, probably lipstick. The girl sat down next to Harin, panting heavily as she regained her breath.

“How are you?” The girl asked after some time.

“I’m good,” Harin responded hesitantly. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. I didn’t have school today because I wasn’t feeling well this morning, but I felt better after some time so I decided to come here early.”

“Did you just have a class?” She asked, eyeing the sweat on the girl’s face.

The girl shook her head. “I just arrived right now. I was planning on going to stretch a bit before working on my monthly evaluation dance.”

Harin nodded every so often as she listened to the girl speak, trying to identify her. Her voice didn’t sound familiar, and she had no distinguishing facial features. She just silently prayed that the girl would mention something about how they knew each other — maybe they shared a class?

“My stomach was a bit sore, so I figured I’d just grab a quick lunch,” the girl continued speaking, “but now that I’m in the cafeteria, I don’t really want to eat anything. Maybe I’m not hungry.”

“Or maybe you have a stomach bug,” Harin offered. “You should have some water just to check.”

The girl nodded in agreement. “Ah! I should. Let me go get some.” She tapped the table rhythmically before going to pour herself a cup of water. In the time it took her to do so, Harin quickly finished her lunch and went to return her tray to the designated area.

As she walked away, she saw that the girl was holding onto her stomach, a grimace on her face as she leaned against the wall near the exit to the cafeteria. Harin approached her, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” She asked. The sweat on the girl’s forehead was more noticeable, along with the deep breaths she was taking.

“My stomach suddenly got so sore,” she groaned.

Harin looked around the room, the other trainees had already left to go to their classes and the cafeteria staff were in the back. She put her book on the nearest table before returning her focus to the girl in front of her. Harin placed her hand on the girl’s forehead, feeling her temperature. It was a bit higher than normal, indicating a fever.

“I think you might have to go to the hospital and get some fever pills,” Harin said.

The girl shook her head. “I feel fi–” She stopped talking as she leaned forward and emptied her stomach, some of her vomit landing on Harin.

I can’t be a doctor, she thought to herself as she heard people gasping. She felt someone pat her with serviettes, trying to wipe the vomit off of her.

“Is she okay?” Someone asked, patting Harin repeatedly with a serviette.

“Does she look okay?” Harin questioned.

One of the girls held the sick girl up when she began to sway a little. “Yah, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Hyoyeon-ah. Just a little sick.” The girl shook her head.

“That’s very clear,” Harin said. She looked down at herself, the two girls patting her down did a good job of cleaning the vomit off of her jeans and shirt. Judging by the expressions on everybody’s faces, it must’ve smelled bad.

“Maybe she needs to get an IV drip,” a girl with light brown hair suggested.

“You might also have to go with her to make sure you don’t catch whatever she has.” That comment was directed at Harin by a girl she didn’t know.

Harin nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” When nobody moved, Harin asked, “Am I going with her now?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

A taxi was called to take the two of them to the nearest hospital and they were both given jackets to wear. Harin tried to stifle her laugh when the taxi driver rolled down all the windows in the car when they entered. She failed.

The drive to the hospital was incredibly long. So long that Harin managed to read another sixty-three pages of her book — she had packed it in her backpack before leaving — occasionally rubbing the sick girl’s head that was in her lap. Once they made it to the hospital, Harin helped the girl out, supporting her by putting her arm around her shoulder. When they made it into the reception area, Harin told the receptionist what was going on, the sick girl chiming in every so often. They were given a hospital bed in the general ED, the nurses hooked the sick girl to the different machines so that they could monitor her vitals.

After twenty minutes, the curtain was pulled open and a male doctor walked in, closing the curtain behind him. “Hello,” he greeted, holding an iPad close to his side. He briefly glanced at the sick girl, who was lying with her eyes closed, feeling a bit groggy. “The nurses told me a bit of what happened, but can you tell me again?” He asked Harin, who nodded.

“Yes. We’re trainees at SM Entertainment and I was eating lunch when she walked in and she was sweating a bit, but she said she hadn’t done any physical activity. She also said that she was feeling sick in the morning so she didn’t go to school. Um, she said she went to the cafeteria to have lunch because of a sore stomach, but that when she got there, she lost her appetite. Then I suggested she drink some water, I can’t remember if I said it should be warm or not. She went to get water, I don’t know if she did, but she was leaning on the wall holding her stomach. There was more sweat on her forehead and her temperature was high. Then she vomited on me and we came here,” Harin told the doctor.

“Okay, okay,” the doctor nodded. “I’m her doctor, Park Seungho. What is her name?”

Harin pursed her lips, trying to remember if she was told the girl’s name. “Hey, who are you?” She asked the girl.

The girl opened her eyes, looking at Harin with a weak offended expression. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know who you are,” Harin said.

“Yes, you do. I’m Yuri! I gave you a tour of the company.”

Harin nodded her head. “Hi, Yuri,” she said before facing the doctor again. “Her name is Kwon Yuri and she was born in December of 1989,” she told him, watching as he wrote the information down on his iPad.

Walking over, he looked at Yuri’s vitals. “Her temperature is quite high,” he muttered. “I’ll have a nurse come draw her blood and take it to the lab,” he said before leaving.

“Yah,” Yuri weakly called out, pointing an accusatory finger at Harin. “How could you not know who I am?”

“Humble yourself. I have facial blindness,” Harin told her. “You look like an entirely different person.”

“Facial blindness? What’s that?”

“I can’t recognise people.”

“Not even your parents?”

“Well, if it’s someone that I see often, like my parents, then I pay attention to any distinguishing features they might have. Like, my mom has a beauty spot in her cupid’s bow and my dad has a scar by his jaw from when he was young. I also pay attention to their voice, footsteps, hairstyle, and clothes.”

“Ah… And their scent?”

Harin shook her head. “I don’t have a sense of smell.”

“You can’t smell?”

The loudness of Yuri’s voice shocked Harin a bit.

“Yeah. It’s nothing worth paying attention to.”

“So you don’t know what tteokbokki smells like?”

Harin stared at her in shock. “N–No. No, I don’t.” She shook her head, pretending to be upset.

“Not even kimbap?”

“N–Not that either.”

“What about–”

“I don’t know what anything smells like,” she interrupted. “Anything, so…”

At that moment, a nurse came into the room. “I’m here to take her blood,” he told Harin.

“Oh, yes. I’ll get out of your way.” She walked out of the curtain to stand outside. A few moments later, the nurse came out. Harin popped back inside, going back to standing in the corner. Yuri looked like she was falling asleep, her head lolling to the side every few seconds.

“Yuri,” she whispered as she picked up her bag. The girl looked at Harin, a questioning expression on her face. “Scooch over.”

“What?”

Harin repeated herself, “Scooch over. There’s nowhere for me to sit and I’m tired of standing.”

“Okay.” Yuri shifted to her right, creating space for Harin to sit on the hospital bed.

Harin dug around in her bag for the book she was reading before joining Yuri on the bed. She began to read it again, focusing on the words on the page.

Yuri cleared her throat. “Read to me,” she requested.

“What?”

“I’m bored and I don’t have anything to do. Read to me,” she repeated.

Harin shook her head in disbelief. “Okay then.” She sighed and began to read her book out loud. She managed to read five sentences before Yuri spoke again.

“What is this book about?” She asked, displeasure coating her tone.

“Cardiology,” Harin answered. “It’s what I’m going to study in university, so I’m reading this book about the basics.”

Yuri hummed monotonously in acknowledgement, her facial expression not changing. “Okay.” She sighed. “It’s boring,” she said, interrupting Harin as she was just about to continue reading.

“I can’t really do much about that.”

“Do you have any other books?”

Harin nipped her bottom lip as she thought. “I have Matilda,” she offered.

Yuri thought for a second before nodding her head. “Okay.”

Harin stood up from the bed to retrieve the book from her bag. She returned to the hospital bed and started reading from the first page. She made it to the second chapter before Yuri started groaning.

“You smell really bad,” she whined.

“You vomited on me,” Harin dismissed her complaint.

“Ew,” Yuri groaned, blocking her nose with her fingers.

“I should be the one complaining,” Harin muttered under her breath. “Should I read to you or not?”

Yuri quieted down as she thought. “Read.”

“Okay.” Harin continued to slowly read the book to Yuri, stopping every now and then whenever the sick girl started groaning. After another five chapters, the doctor returned to the room. He told the girls that Yuri had a stomach bug and would just need IV and to rest when she got home. When he told her not to go to training until she was totally okay, she pouted a bit.

“Doctor,” Yuri called out just before the doctor left, “is there a Lost & Found here?”

“Yes, there is. Why do you ask?” Seungho tilted his head in curiosity.

Yuri weakly lifted her hand to point at Harin. “I vomited on her and she smells bad.” Harin resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Is there anything she can change into?”

Seungho looked at Harin, his eyes widening as if he just noticed the dry vomit on her shirt and jeans. “Oh, I’ll ask one of the nurses to bring you something to change into.”

“Thank you.” Harin bowed her head as he left. She continued reading the book, only stopping when a nurse came by with clothes for her to change into. Once she returned from the bathroom after changing, she put her clothes in her bag.

After some time, a nurse checked on Yuri’s IV, and offered her something to eat for dinner. Realising the time, Harin stood up.

“I think I’ll go now,” she said.

“Really?” Yuri gasped.

“Yeah, it’s getting late and I have training and homework, so…” She trailed off as she shouldered her bag. “Where should I go to pay?” She asked the nurse, who directed her to a part of the hospital.

When Harin got to the payment centre, she pulled out her debit card. When she left Italy to come to Korea, her parents gave her €200 to convert to Korean Won. They told her that they would give her a monthly allowance of €100, which she didn’t use very often since she was still only a student. Thus, she had most of her allowance and was able to pay Yuri’s hospital bill with no problem.

Harin went back to Yuri’s room to tell her that she paid for everything and to get better soon before leaving. She got on a bus to the SM Entertainment building, getting off a few blocks early. Walking up to a pay phone, she called her dad’s number and listened to the ringing sound. It ended up going to voicemail and she sighed.

“Please answer,” she muttered under her breath, calling him two more times, but he still didn’t answer. She bit her bottom lip, looking around the park, the setting sun casting a golden light everywhere. Knowing she only had only one option, she took a steadying breath before dialling a different number.

“Hello?” Eunkyung answered after the third dial.

“Hi, mum. It’s me.”

There was silence for a while. “Hi. How are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good. How are… How are you?”

“I’m good.” There was some more prolonged silence. “Look, Harin, I’m really busy, so–”

“Yeah, yeah, um… I just wanted to tell you that I used some of my allowance today. It wasn’t a lot.”

“Okay. Is that all?” There was impatience in her tone.

Harin sighed. “Yes, mum. That’s all.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye. Say hi to dad and Harrison for me.”

Eunkyung hummed before ending the call. Harin put the phone back in the holder, her shoulders sagging. She hadn’t really spoken to her mom since coming to Korea, only to her dad. She knew her mom was angry with her for wanting a career in the arts instead of in medicine, and she just couldn’t deal with the constant disappointment and judgement.

Not for the first time, she thought of Matilda, born in a family that didn’t understand her. But she had a Miss Honey, someone who cared for her and supported her. Harin likened herself to Matilda a lot; her dad understood her but didn’t necessarily support her, her brother supported her but didn’t necessarily understand her, and her mom… cared for her in her own way, though Harin never felt it. Not for the first time, Harin prayed for her Miss Honey, someone she wouldn’t have to constantly prove herself to.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, she took a shuddering breath and rolled her shoulders back, continuing to worry on her bottom lip. She made the short walk to the SM Entertainment building, ready to attend her singing lessons, getting one step closer to her dream.

bonus:

A few days later, Harin was in one of the vocal rooms; she had booked it to have a private session. She was in the middle of a song when she heard a knock on the door. Pressing pause on the backtrack, she went to open the door, seeing a girl dressed in black leggings, a red, cropped shirt, and blue sneakers. Her hair was in a high ponytail and she had a bracelet around her wrist.

“Hi!” She greeted energetically, the bracelet jingling as she waved. “I’ve been looking for you the past few days, but I couldn’t find you anywhere. I wanted to thank you for taking me to the hospital the other day,” she said.

Harin nodded, finally knowing who the girl in front of her was. “It’s no problem, Yuri.”

“Yeah, I’m just really thankful an–” She abruptly stopped speaking, a confused expression taking over her features. “You speak Korean?” She asked, pointing an accusatory finger at Harin.

“Yeah.”

“I thought you didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you told me that.”

“I didn’t,” Harin denied, slightly shaking her head. “You assumed I couldn’t speak Korean and I didn’t feel the need to correct you. Besides, we were speaking Korean when we were at the hospital, and when I was reading Matilda, it was in Korean,” she pointed out.

“Oh. I– Anyways, I wanted to thank you,” she said, putting her hand down. “And to say that if you ever need help with something, then you can come to me.”

“Thank you, Yuri. I’ll keep that in mind.” Harin flashed her a genuine smile, which she reciprocated.

“Great! I’ll let you get back to…” She gestured at the room as she started to back away. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

tagging: @lyskooluv [send an ask or dm to be added to or removed from the taglist]

©️ jang harin

[jaestrz]

ily -Seo Yul

Seo yul x reader - soft - fluff - a bit of angst???

a/n: this was a a bit of a rush.

Abandonment was something you’ve normalised as a child. Neither your parents ever gave you the love and affection you were supposed to receive. As their attention were on Cho Yeon and Bu Yeon. Maybe all you could remember growing up was about books, books and more books.

When you were a kid, there was only 4 things you’ve admired to achieve. Jipsu, Ryusu, Tansu, Chisu. It took you 6 months to master everything in secret. The shortest period you could achieve.

What could’ve been hidden was you were a creation of your mother’s love affair. Which in results lead to you being kicked out of Jinyowon right after a fight with your mother, Ho gyeong.

You never learnt your own history. All you knew was your father was a mage in Jinyowon. Was. Because later on he died for getting caught wild. You got closer to a songrim mage named Yul. And for longer, a person that could heal the crack in your heart of an inner child, it’s him.

He was the only person you’ve touched without having the feeling of hatred murder in your mind.

Yul knew you better than anyone else could.

Until you got accepted to Songrim and you no longer feel the need to reminisce your old life. You started a new one at Songrim with Yul by your side.

Other mages never saw you in a battle with anyone. It never came to your mind how you became the topic everyone talked about. You got into songrim Jeongjinak because Yul “helped” you out. That was a false statement.

You watch as the golden toad disappear as each day passes by. It was lessen until it was left only one more. “do you think Beom is going to win?” The sound of Yul’s voice caught your attention as you turned to face him.

“ we don’t know what Uk has on his mind. I don’t think Beom will even step up.” You replied.

But soon before Yul could talk with you, the crown prince guard walked up to him. “the highness wants to see you.”

“Did you do something wrong?” You questioned and Yul had a frown on his face with a slight confusion. But if he did something wrong he would’ve acknowledged it and told you.

So he didn’t do any mistake.

-

“i didn’t want to take you as the last duel because I know how close you and Uk are.” The crown prince said as he look at Yul with determination in his eyes. “But I’m not going to be a villain of course. I just really want someone who’s more confident in beating Jang uk.” He continued.

To see Yul and Uk fight was a rare thing to witness. Especially when they both had been best friends since they were teens. No one could deny, Yul is one of the best mages in Jeongjinak. But he hesitates when it comes to a duel with someone he truly cares about.

Maybe if you were a soul shifter running wild, he wouldn’t have the guts to petrify you.

There was a deep silence filled in the air while the crown prince suddenly eyes you who was standing beside Yul.

“I have a suggestion your highness. Let’s have y/n replace me instead?” Beom suggested and Yul eyes was looking at him with a glare.

The crown prince doesn’t know you well. He saw you here and there but never once he had ever thought about you being in a duel against Uk.

“don’t pull someone else in because you couldn’t-”

“ so that was your name? I believe you are Yul’s lover. Am I right?” The crown prince cut Yul’s conversation and the room fell silence again. His grip on your wrist was tighter than usual.

“yes. Your highness.” Yul replied, backing away.

“I never saw her in a duel before. But I believe she is a mage in Jeongjinak for a reason. Beom idea wasn’t bad.” He said and you could feel Yul panicking. Your hand found his, rubbing the palm of his hand. “I believe I can beat Uk under two conditions your highness.” You told him and he was ready to hear your words.

“If I won then Mu deok is automatically under me. And the jade will also be mine.” You look at him, who was holding the small egg jade in his hand.

You couldn’t risk Mu deok in another person’s responsibility. If this was the least you could do for Mu deok as a return of kindness to what she had done for you, then it’ll be worth the pain you’re going to face.

“I can make your time worthwhile your highness.”

-

“If you get hurt then I won’t forgive myself. You still have time to withdraw love.” Yul said, holding you as if you were made out of porcelain. A part of you were grateful for a man like him to exist in your life. The warmth feeling started to spread in your heart.

You smile at him before your lips touches his, feeling a curve on the corner of his lips. “please don’t get hurt.”

“I won’t.” You replied and you heard the crown prince announced something and you both know it’s time to go.

He haven’t seen you duel in a long time due to a curse you have in your body. Duel cost energy to drain in you. Recovering will take a while.

The moment you stepped up, you notice someone that had caught your eye. People from Jinyowon, Cheonbugwan, Seongrim and the Royal Family.

“Y/n told me she could give me a great time. Everyone will be here since this will be the last duel with Uk.”

You avoided eye contact with Uk. Unsheathing your sword and Uk began to attack you while you were defending. All you could focus was on the sword clinking each time yours and UK’s sword meet. You didn’t know what happened. You attack Uk by slicing a droplet.

But it never came to your mind to use Tansu. You never wanted to hurt him no matter what was the situation. You stood there with a heavy breath while your knuckles turn white from gripping your sword. There was a few gasp and muttering amongs the crowd but Yul only how you were holding yourself from dropping on your knees.

‘this is the first time to see her fight.’

‘Is this why she’s a mage?’

‘Everyone at Jeongjinak and Songrim knows Yul is dating her.’

‘She managed to perform Tansu. That means she’s as skilled as Yul.’

it’s over.

You used your last strength to smile at Jang uk who was struggling to stand back up. “I guess you did improve a lot.” And when you turn around, you were met with Yul ‘s embrace, before he pulled you away from the people to a more private place.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” you whispered to him, burying your face in his chest as he held you close.

there was a sudden guilt in your heart. the guilt feeling that gave you a sense of deja vu. “it was accidental. you haven’t fought in a long time. You can’t control your mind on what you desire in a fight love.” He replied.

your heart was racing. Your breathing was faster than usual. He took her hands, placing it on his chest so you could follow his breathing properly instead of losing your mind. His soft hands cupped your face before kissing you.

“let rumours believe what they want. You’re under my responsibility and I won’t let a single word hurt you. I love you.”

[roller6262]

Harvey Gives Fashion Advice

< Previous Part | Next Part >

Harvey still had time before his next class, so he headed straight for his dorm. Harry's bed was topped with cardboard boxes, and Harry himself was rummaging through his wardrobe. He would evaluate individual items before deeming they were no good and tossing them behind him. "Dude, I've been gone for a few hours, are you still trying to find something to wear?" Harvey asked his room mate.

"Oh, Honey, I already picked out a casual outfit for the day" Harry replied without taking his eyes off his clothes. "That's what I wore to pick up all those boxes."

"By the way, what is all this stuff?" Harvey sat on Harry's bed and peeked inside the boxes. It was a mix of decorations, papers, and small items that looked like they could be used for games.

"Those are the supplies for tomorrow's Queer Student Union meeting. As secretary it was my job to pick them up from storage."

"So why are you changing again?"

"And repeat an outfit on the same day? Hell no. There's an executive meeting with all the Queer Student Union's leaders tonight, so I need to look my best."

"Sheesh, I'm glad I'm not a member of your gay club" Harvey sighed, "If I spent as much time on clothes as you did, I'd never get out of this dorm."

"Oh shut up" Harry said, tossing a shirt he was looking at onto his bed, "I bet I spend less time on clothes than you do styling that ridiculous pompadour" Harry ran his fingers through his own curly hair, then turned around to face his room mate, finally seeing that Harvey was wearing a patka, "Or at least, how much time you usually spend on it. That thing on your head is new. Is it some kind of fashion statement?"

"Huh?" Harvey placed his hands on top of his head, feeling cloth where he expected to feel gelled hair. "I thought I took this thing of last night. Did I tie it back on this morning?"

"What are you mumbling about?" Harry turned back to his wardrobe, "instead of making fashion statements like that, I wish you were a fashion guru. I could use some advice." Harry grabbed a pink scarf and wrapped it around his neck. He considered it for a moment before tossing it towards the bed like all the rest. This time, it landed on Harvey's head.

The scarf wrapped itself around Harvey's patka, forming a pink UK-style turban. "Wait… this is just like with Gurpreet's table cloth. Was- was that real? It is happening again!?" While Harvey was expressing a great deal of panic, the texture of his face became smoother, and his cheek bones were more pronounced. All of his hair once again darkened to a shade of black. His mustache thickened, covering his upper lip, and his beard grew to his collar in a squared off shape. To maintain this shape it was not cut, but rather well maintained. Harvey winced, expecting to bloat into a fat man like before. Instead, he grew a bit taller and slimmed into a model physique. He got that warm feeling again as his skin turned an Indian hue, a bit darker than Harvey's normal time, but a good amount lighter than previously. His features changed slightly to be more telling of a Punjabi man, but it was unmistakably Harvey's face.

Finally the rest of his clothes were altered. He was wearing a light blue silk button up with grey wool trousers and brown leather shoes. A tricolor, diagonally striped long tie appeared around his collar. A pink scarf, matching his new turban, hung from his neck, and a dark navy suit jacket topped his shoulders. Harvey looked at his arms in disbelief, his wrists were decorated with a gold watch on the left and an iron Kara bracelet on the right. "Am I imagining things again? Why is it so different this time?"

"So Harpinder" Harry started, as if Harvey hadn't said anything just now. He was holding up two shirts, one in each hand, "Which do you think would look better on me tonight?"

"What are you talking about, Harry?" Harvey realized this was just like with Gurpreet. Harvey, or Harpinder as he was now, seemed completely normal to Harry. "You never ask me for advice about clothes."

"I just didn't want to bug you with my day to day stuff" Harry admitted, a bit embarrassed "you're such a famous fashion influencer after all. I'm sure you have more important things to do." Just then Harvey got a notification on his phone, actually he was receiving several. He unlocked it and the phone opened to a photo-sharing social media app. Instead of his usual profile, he was logged into @sikhstyleguru under the name Harpinder Singh. The page looked like it was regularly updated with photos of Harvey as he appeared now, wearing a variety of fashionable suits and street wear. Scrolling down, Harvey figured this page had to have been active for a few years, which should have been impossible because he only transformed a few weeks ago. Was reality changing? Is that why no one thought his sudden changes were odd? Either way, Harvey took this as proof that he wasn't imagining things, he really had become a Sikh man.

He tapped on his most recent photo, the one he was getting notifications for. The like count was already well above three thousand and still ticking up. Comments included phrases like "waheguru" followed by praying hands emoji and "Att" with the fire emoji. "I really am a fashion influencer" Harvey said to himself.

"That's why I'm asking you, you know better than anyone" Harry said. Harvey was confident he'd be able to return to normal, as he had before. For now he decided he would play along with Harry's vision of him, as it would be useless to try and convince Harry that he was someone else. Still, Harvey's idea of a good outfit was a white tee and black jeans, hardly the wisdom that Harry was expecting. He decided he should just answer truthfully. "Honestly, Harry, I don't think either of those shirts would work." Harpinder stroked his hairy chin while thinking, "If you're going to meet with other leaders of your organization, you yourself should look like a leader. I think I can lend you something." He turned to his own wardrobe and saw that it was replaced by a pop-up closet. Due to the dorm's restricted space, it was smaller than any proper closet would be, but it still had enough rack space to hold Harprinder's many suits, with drawers at the bottom for the rest of his clothes. He picked out a deep blue dress shirt, a vibrant yellow dress tie, brown slacks, and matching black leather belt and dress shoes. Harry quickly changed and the items fit surprisingly well on him, despite belonging to someone else.

"This is awesome, I've never had a suit I liked this much" Harry was checking himself out from a few different angles.

"It's all about finding the right fit. Now you look ready for business" Harprinder grinned. Harry threw his arms up and gave Harpinder a big hug. He chuckled and hugged back, "Easy there, try not to wrinkle my shirt too much." Harpinder impressed even himself with his wisdom. Maybe this fashion influencer thing wouldn't be too hard. Once Harry had let go, apologizing for any wrinkles he might have caused, Harpinder turned back to his closet and considered his next move. He thought Harry's outfit could use a little something more to truly stand out. He grabbed two cloths from his closet. "Hold still Harry, I just need to add one last touch." Harpinder first tied the blue cloth around Harry's head into a patka. Harry did as he was told and didn't stop Harpinder, but he was still visibly uncomfortable.

"You know, Harp, these turbans look really good on you. I'm just think this is weird on a white guy like me."

"Nonsense, you just need to see it all together" Harpinder tied the yellow cloth into a morni pagg turban. Then he used a salai needle to smooth out the folds. "See? Isn't that better?"

Harry looked at himself in their dorm's mirror, turning his head to check a few different angles. "I guess so…" Harry saw his face turn a darker shade of brown and became delighted. "Yes! This vibrant yellow does go well with my skin tone. That was a good choice, Harpinder" Harry said in a Punjabi accent.

Harpinder nodded, "Now we must do something about your hair."

"But all of my hair is under my dastaar" then a short chinstrap of curly black hair grew on Harry's previously bare face.

"Obviously I meant your facial hair" Harpinder chuckled, using a wooden comb to remove the tangles in Harry's new beard.

"Ah, that is much better" Harry admired his Punjabi features in the mirror.

"I'm glad I could help" with this task complete, the pink turban on Harpinder's head unspooled and returned to being a simple pink scarf. Harpinder himself reverted to being Harvey, and his pop up closet disappeared, leaving behind Harvey's original wardrobe. The only thing that didn't turn back to normal was the now Sikh Harry. "Woah, who are you!?"

"Harvey you are so sweet. Pretending you don't recognize me because I look so much better in this suit? I'm flattered" Harry winked.

Harvey recognized that jokingly flirty attitude, "Harry, is that you?"

"It's pronounced Harri, you know that. Anyways, thank you for helping me pick out an outfit, I'll have to return the favor some time. But for now, I'm off to meet my felllow Queer Student Union leaders" Harri lifted the boxes from his bed and made his way to the door of the dorm.

"You can't leave, there's something wrong!"

"The only thing wrong here is that a cute guy like you is still only wearing a patka. Before the next Sikh Student Alliance meeting I am going to have to tie the most handsome dastar on you. See ya!" And with that, Harri blew a kiss and left the dorm.

"No, Harry, wait!" But it was too late, Harri was gone. "This is so freaky! First I'm changing, now Harry is too! Did I do that to him?" Harvey took a look at himself in the mirror. "It's got to be because of this patka I got from that Indian club. It's making me look like them!" Harvey tried to yank the black cloth from his head, but it wouldn't budge no matter how he pulled. "It's no use, the thing is tied on like some kind of magic." he sighed. "At least I can take care of you" Harvey said, looking at his short brown beard. Harvey went to his "hair care" drawer. He was pretty obsessed with maintaining a perfect pompadour, so he always kept a drawer stocked with hair scissors, razors, tweezers, an electric shaver, Combs, and his favorite gel. Opening the drawer, he discovered that most of these items were gone! In their place was a wooden comb, a salai needle, some kind of beard oil, and multiple patka cloths. "Where's all my stuff!? I thought I changed back" Harvey slammed the drawer, "I am not giving up that easy, you stupid beard"

Harvey grabbed a pair of office scissors from his study desk and went back to the mirror. They weren't the ideal tool for grooming his beard, but they would have to do. He brought the scissors close to his chin and attempted to cut, but the scissors wouldn't close. "Huh?" Harvey pulled the scissors away from his face and heard the satisfying "snip" of the scissors cutting the air, but as soon as they got close to his face, he couldn't bring himself to close his fingers together. "Are you kidding me? I can't cut my beard either!?"

It had become evidant that whatever magic had transformed Harvey twice today was also preventing him from removing his patka and hair, even in his white form. "I need to find a way to get 100% back to normal, and also prevent future transformations." Harvey thought the best way to do that was to write down everything he knew about his predicament. He grabbed his Religious Studies 372 notebook and started a list on a new page. 1. This all started when those people from the Sikh club tied this patka on my head. 2. I can't take the patka off, except to sleep and shower. Even then, I end up tying it back on without noticing. 3. When fabric touches this patka, I turn into one of those turbanned Indian guys. The table cloth and the scarf had very different results. Maybe the type of cloth matters? 4. When I transform, my personality changes a little bit and my memory gets a bit foggy. I should keep this notebook with me so I don't forget who I really am.

Harvey sighed and closed the notebook. He didn't know much yet, but this was a start. "It goes without saying I need to avoid that Sikh club, even if it does cost me a grade" Harvey checked the time on his phone "can't let my other grades slip though, my break's almost over" Harvey packed his things and marched to his next class, believing that he was temporarily safe from Punjabification.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Speaking of IPSO and the Harkles.

When I read that original story on Pop Bitch re: the legal letter sent to them, one of the threats therein was that Harold firmly believed UK media is especially talented at creating tabloid frenzy even when subject is abroad so he warned them off Markle by saying that he would hold them responsible for any tabloid frenzy around her even if said frenzy was abroad and if it happened, he’d throw his royal weight behind those trying to curb press freedom. 

At the time, UK media was still under the cloud of the Levenson enquiry, and during the dating years, parliament was debating whether or not to curb press freedom. Remember, William had kicked the whole thing off and his royal status carried privilege so I guess Harold believed his status would do the same.

I watched both sides carefully, and saw how the media completely backed away from Markle during the dating years. This gave her free reign to spin positive stories pushing herself as the best thing that happened to Harold as well as being a humanitarian etc. The media didn’t tell the public anything about her. Stuff that was easy to find. She had such an easy ride that she got cocktails and thought this would be her future ride.

When she got engaged and everyone came out, the media presented them as attacking her and didn’t follow up on the meat of their revelations. Her own PR did this too. The public was given a one-sided story that made her accusers look like jealous harpies of this self-made millionaire, Hollywood actress who’d snagged our 12yr old Prince grown up to become happy, charming humanitarian and made him happy. Every wrong thing they did was presented as ‘thank goodness she escaped them’.

….but what about the Thomas Markle Snr picture debacle……I think ( personal opinion) this was a scandal that was a gift to Markle for something she’d already done, but perhaps didn’t have an easy way of presenting it to the public until fate intervened. 

Let’s go back to those parliamentary debates ( you can still find them on parliament’s webite). These rumbled on for 2yrs and had UK media spooked. Another of celebs got away with poor behaviour because the UK media took it easy in order to demonstrate to parliament that they could self-regulate via IPSO. 

The debates eventually came down to a vote. This happened 2weeks before the wedding.

Pop bitch later revealed that Harold continued to shower IPSO with threatening complaints even though the media was largely compliant. So the week of the final vote crossed with a letter he sent IPSO complaining about paps harassing Thomas for those pictures. 

The vote took place mid-week. UK media won the vote, cloud lifted.  And the DM’s weekend papers outed Thomas senior - a direct punch / response to Harold. Journalists regardless of their politics or outlet on twitter were collectively celebrating. The sentence that kept popping up that I recall was the idiocy of accusing the media of colluding to harass Thomas when he was actively colluding to release these pictures to the media to be published. 

Meghan responded as she did and came out of it smelling of roses. 

Since their marriage in 2018 through to Summer 2019, Harold showered IPSO with so many complaints that it is alleged the volume exceeded the collective complaints of entire royal family in 10yrs. And each new complaint brought diminishing returns.

By the summer of 2019, when he complained about the story in The Sun about Markle telling the residents of the Windsor Estates to refrain from talking or engaging with entire Sussex family - babies and dogs included, IPSO had enough. While The Sun volunteered to remove the story, IPSO largely ruled in it’s favour and delivered a verdict that was the equivalent of a limp slap on the wrist. 

This must have enraged Harold who was vacationing at Elton’s villa when the verdict came in. Seeing as he already wished to use his royal privilege to punish UK media, that ambulance chasing lawyer whispering in his ear must have seemed like God’s gift. 

By that September 2019, he’d launched the first of many lawsuits. And with the class action ones, it’s become transparently clear that he has thrown his lot in with that pressure group Hacked off/ bylines whose raison d'etre is to curb press freedom. It’s no coincidence that they aren’t signed upto IPSO. 

Harold hasn’t bothered IPSO since then. 

****

Some food for thought: Did Harry use the overturned IPSO request and his mother’s memory to manipulate Elton John into sharing his lawyer? Or did the lawyer use the overturned IPSO request and his mother’s memory to manipulate Harry into these lawsuits for a royal payday?

Re the Thomas Markle paparazzi scandal - I’m Team “Meghan totally set it up for her dad and was sweating bullets her involvement would leak out so Thomas orchestrated a heart attack to get the heat off her because she cried and knew just what to say.” Now, I do think Thomas really did have a health emergency, but I’m skeptical it was actually a heart attack. Maybe it was heart palpitations or bad enough anxiety that he thought it was a heart attack or terrible indigestion. So to get Meghan’s pity, he tells her it was a heart attack and she’s all “new phone, who dis” to him but simultaneously collapsing and sobbing to the palace about how her father is so ill she can’t possibly ask him to travel in case it makes him sicker.

[writingmochi]

“smirch” episode 2: jay

cast: skater & stoner!jay ✗ rival school student!fem.reader

synopsis: jay park likes liberty, something he felt every time he is either high or on his skateboard. selling weed for the students along with sunghoon, jay will do anything that helps him survive his life in korea. at a time when two rival schools are in a rugby match, it is the perfect time to do business, but he’s intrigued with you, a student from the rival school, who brought a plastic bag of cans of cat food

genre: teen drama, coming of age, slice of life, high school au, fluff, comedy, angst, mature content (drugs, suggestive themes, mental health)

based on: tv shows skins uk; specifically gen 1 banner intro video inspired by series 1′s opening (2007-2013) and skam norway (2015-2017)

word count: 27442 (27.4k)

warning(s): mc has anxiety and selective mutism, mention of overprotective parents, mention of neglectful parents, mention of drugs and consumption of drugs (cigarette and marijuana), drug-dealing, mentions of minor injuries, mention of dead animal, steamy make-out scene, not really a warning but mc used to live in the UK so she's gonna use british slangs and words equivalent to the ones used in american english (if i forget some or wrong in some way, let me know)

message from the moon: remember that this story is fiction. do be careful and read the warnings at the top as both the chapter and the series as a whole will contain serious and sensitive topics.

hello! thank you for waiting a FREAKING YEAR since the last episode my god. this is supposed to be released on jay's birthday and 420 day (cause he is a stoner in this fic *wink*) but because of a tragedy that landed the kpop industry. i didn't post it out of respect. so i try to polish it as best as i could which means adding and deleting plots that make sense within this fic and the smirch series (if you've read heeseung's ep, you're gonna see references that are thrown here too) also, because both mc and jay comes from a wealthy family with a business, you're gonna read business jargons from my business major and from watching too many "succession". oh, i’ve also opened an ask my character/behind-the-writing content for this series that you can check out right here. definitely recommend it if you are curious about what the characters have been up to in between the episodes so do ask and enjoy the messiness!

masterlist

jay felt naked without his skateboard by his side, but that is the consequence of delivering the stuff this day. heads upon heads all moving to one side as he lets out a tremendous sigh. his friends walk in front of him into the field on the school grounds, yet it’s not his school.

multiple pairs of feet drag on the stony pathway as they are walking around him, but he’s standing still in the middle of this commotion. jay opens the zipper of his backpack that dangles only one strap on his shoulder, pulling out the black plastic bag sat inside with his small notebook that has his marker stuck to it. after zipping the back, pages open as he searches for today’s date, who bought it, and the amount they're paying: matching the names to the accounts they used to contact him on their location—the plastic bag dangling on his wrist.

looking up from the book and screen, he can see his friends strolling to the bleachers—jake somewhere on the field, warming up for his match. jay sensed a tap on his shoulder as he faces where the touch comes from, seeing sunghoon looking at him; a smirk formed on his face and an unknown girl wrapped around his arm, not from the two schools competing today.

“you can handle giving them by yourself, right jjong?” sunghoon questioned, eyebrows raised as he retreats his hand back while jay’s looking at his best friend and the girl he knows he will find the next morning at their flat.

“of course, i’m used to it. fucker.” he replied, rolling his eyes, as the two boys chuckles. sunghoon then walks away, leaving him alone as he sees his friend’s hand lowering down the girl’s back—walking somewhere that isn’t the seat of the rugby match. jay looks at the two sets of bleachers behind the tall silver fences, one where his school seats—the maroon and silver uniform ties on the necks of the people watching are enough for him to know—and the other where the rivals seat with their dark blue blazers instead of the black ones decelis uses. his eyes scanning the perimeter for the faces of the people that are going to pick up their order, looking for the appearance he has memorized from stalking their instagram profiles.

when the bat mascot came out to the sidelines, waiting for the teams to arrive at the field, he already meets a few of his customers. one was a member of a dance club of the school called “stray kids“. another one is the bassist for a band club that was rejuvenated after the seniors that are leaving one by one because of graduation. by the time he made his way to 1/4 off his list, he detects the orange and blue outfit of the moon knights, eyes scanning for a specific back which has written ‘sim 05’ on it, seeing his friend huddle up with the coach and his teammates. his eyes didn’t leave the field before the kick-off—the perfect time to hand the rest as other people are too focused on the game.

walking all around the bleachers—both of his own school and the rivals—jay can’t help to find the place where his friends sit. while walking down the stairs by the seats, he found them. taehyun recording the match with his digital camera, kai watching while also having another agatha christie book in his hand, sunoo and his best friend cheering for jake and following the chants that the seniors signals on the drums beside the bat mascot, and heeseung sitting beside beomgyu’s sister, hands interlock with each other while the brother is nowhere to be found.

jay does this every time his school has an event: opening a batch order along with sunghoon, closing it around three days before so he can pick the leaves and package them in his flat, then giving it to the people for a cash amount. a sporadic shop opens if they go to parties he or his friends find; usually either from heeseung, sunghoon, or beomgyu. all in all, he has done it so that he could be financially independent—as much as a high schooler could be independent. jay knew his market and the demand—something he learned from visits to his dad’s company back when he was in the US—he utilizes that as best as he can, being a homemade dealer who grew his stuff himself.

nearing the end of his list was around halftime for the rugby match. he can see the echos—decelis cheerleading team—doing their performance while the chants of his schoolmates' echos on the open field and surrounded by levant high; the home of their rivals today. a loyal customer of his just left his peripheral after getting her order as his eyes wander to the two bleachers he stood in between before landing on a group of cheerleaders from levant on the opposite side with their glittery purple outfits. aura is written on their torso in white with a flowy style like the ones the wind wakers has on their merchandise for enticing school spirit in the match season.

that’s when his eyes move again to see one of the cheer members sitting beside a girl in levant‘s blue blazer, speaking to her as she looks to the grass beneath her feet. a dark plastic back in her hands hanging above ground, swaying slowly from the blow of wind.

the echos finish performing as the cheer member besides the girl stood up before ruffling the girl’s hair, earning an offended look from her as the cheer member laughs before going to the field. jay then watches the other cheer member standing up to huddle with the member who sat beside the girl—the cheer captain—as they all give you a look that lingers on you, something burning as her shoulders slightly pop. even he could feel that sudden shiver from a few meters away. the girl sits back on the seat as she lifts the plastic bag and a hand appears to push it up onto her lap. something heavy is inside it.

the auras perform as he delivers the last orders on his list before going to the seat that taehyun and sunoo have put their bags on for his place as the second half starts. but he didn’t watch the match all the time. unlike his friends, his gaze somehow landed on where the girl is sitting. seeing her sit on the seat while eyes trailed the ball flying in the air, unlike the cheer captain beside her chatting along and cheering for the team. not even seeing her opening her mouth to speak.

it is the end of the match when he also stood up on the bleachers as the knights defeat the wakers by such a small margin. a well-performed comeback by jake as he gets the final score, seeing heeseung running down the bleachers and hugging the team along with jake’s teammates. jay lets out a smirk as he can watch the wide face on jake’s face—he deserves the captain role for this season—before his eyes view the disappointed levants who lose in their own home. a face of gloom as their crowd cheers for a good match, showing their sportive side.

he and his friends climb down from the bleachers as the decelis crowd blends in with the levants on the way out, creating a mob that moves in one stream like sardines. he bumps other students from all over his sides as they all just want one thing, to go out of the goddamn place. that’s when somebody slams onto his body with too much force, his abdomen pushed by a heavy item as he arrives at the open area where the crowd disperses. the person who bumps him must not be too far from him as he turns his head before something heavy rolls against his foot.

a can with a photo of a cat at the front?

jay looks up from the can that rests on his foot to find a girl crouching down, picking up similar cans in her hands before putting them into the plastic bag, a black plastic bag.

when she turns her body and walks away, jay finally realizes who she is. who he bumps into—well, who bumps into him.

the girl he saw before by the auras. you.

your figure retreats as he picks up the can before it got destroyed by people stomping on it. straightening his body, he glances at a few girls walking in front of him in levant‘s cheer uniform. the girl who sat beside you is one of them.

“so you’re just gonna let your sister walk away like that?” one of them said. seeing the girl clearer as something pops up in his head. familiarity.

“yeah, what a weirdo.” another said before they all looked at the girl. he tries to match the face with the name that he knows he recognized.

“let her be. i shouldn’t force her to sit with us.” her voice says as they travel away to the school building. jay stares at them as the name and face click in his head, his eyes glance to look at your retreating figure. connecting the last puzzle piece to find the connection between the two of you.

as a partygoer and a dealer, he has a fair share of people he recognizes either by buying his stuff or just by popularity. she is in the latter category.

jay knew the girl’s name is somi, and she is a senior. he can assure himself that he knows the face and, now, the name. he wasn't aware that she has a sister.

is that why you were so estranged?

jay’s head turns towards where you go as his tall stature helps to find you turning a corner outside the field and on the main street of the school. his legs instantly reacting as he chases after you, his backpack on his back while the can is in his hand. he almost lost you, a few seconds behind your figure. you turned away to a corner as he arrived at the intersection, disappearing like a ghost walking through a wall. but when he arrived at a small street right near levant high and don’t see you, he walks ever so slowly on the asphalt road. an entrance to an alley is visible in his view.

jay peeks from the corner to find someone crouching in the empty small alley wider than his wingspan. an abundance of fluff surrounding the figure, realizing the dark blue blazer the figure wears.

you.

meows surround you as jay also hears the sound of cracked open aluminium and you dropping the contents near the alley’s wall. the animals enclose as they all lean down to eat the food you give. jay steps in closer as he sees you tilting your head at the stray cats eating their food. the salty smell of fish filled the air as he focuses on how a smile formed on your face. even though he only saw a half, he can know yours is a pretty sweet one like a few of his friends have. his shoes moving on the ground creates a few scrapping noises that make the cats’ ears perk but haven’t moved their heads yet and focus on their food. the hand holding the can have sweat forming on it.

he steps closer as carefully as ever, doesn’t want to distract you or the cats and kittens he sees enjoying the feast. but his nose twitched every time he steps closer so that he could give the can. the felines’ ears perk again as he steps closer, the itch on his nose getting stronger as he tried his best to rub it away with his empty hand.

god must hate him as his face contorts, letting out his manly-ass sneeze.

his eyes immediately open to find the cats all having their fur rising, tails puffing up, and you drop to your knees from your crouching position—a shocked look on your face as it turns to despair when the cats run away from where you both are. your head turns to the cats running to hide as you then turn towards him, eyebrows furrowed.

“ugh.” was all you can let out as you put the contents of the can you held on to the leftovers of the feast. jay looks at you, guilt swallowing him up.

“sorry. i, i wanted to give you this.” he pushed the can to you as you crouched back, eyes squinting at him before you pulled the can from his grasp and put it into the empty plastic bag that you’d put in your blazer pocket.

he sees you moving from your position as you sit on the ground and lean against the wall across from where the cats should be eating. you were tying up the bag with the last can you didn’t notice was not there in your bag. you rub your face with the back of your hand, expecting the decelis boy to leave before you heard the scrapes and someone sliding down beside you. peering from the corner of your eyes you see the decelis rummaging from the pocket in his backpack and pulling out two things—one of them is a lighter.

he puts a stick that looks too thick to be a cigarette between his lips, cupping his hand near the lit flame as he inhales before letting out a cloud of white smoke, head leaning back against the wall like you. you find out the scent you smell is no scent of burning tobacco.

the guy’s a freaking stoner.

jay can sense the burning gaze on the side of his head as he looks to see you peering at him, eyes wandering from his side profile to the joint in his hand. he takes that you didn’t notice his prolonged stare at you, your sight focusing on the stick in his hand.

“a joint?”

jay spoke, feeling regret as he could only offer that. the only one he had left in his bag. his hand recognizes the heat spreading inside the stick as you look up at his face before returning to the item in his hand. that’s when you pinch the stick between your own fingers and he lets go, letting you take a small inhale. he thought you might cough from the unfamiliar sensation but you surprised him by taking another inhale, this time a large one, as you let out a fluffy white cloud.

you can handle your smoke seriously, jay thought.

“you’ve smoked before?” he asked, seeing you pause your hand with the joint between your fingers. he sees your eyes moving from his face to the joint then back, shaking your head.

“cigarettes then,” he said as you shrug, giving out the joint back into his fingers as you turn to gaze at the abandoned cat food, no cat in sight. jay can’t help but listen in on the serenity of the situation. in an alley somewhere near his rival school, deep enough to muffle all the sounds of car honks, people talking, and legs bustling down the street. he stays there with someone who seems to appreciate the serene atmosphere too. maybe enjoying it too much because he hadn’t heard you talk at all.

“sorry that we won against your school. i just have to tame my friend down in the field so y’all can get your chance.” he chuckles right at the end as you shrug your shoulders, a remorseful expression on your face before giving a nod and a thumbs up.

jay takes another puff as the cloud floats to the blue sky between buildings not tall enough to engulf the two of you. the white joins in with the water-made clouds on the blue background. though he enjoys the quietness, it still weirds him out, especially coming from having someone else living with him.

being flatmates with sunghoon and heeseung has its perks, but quietness is not one of them—especially for sunghoon cause he never seems to be quiet because it’s either he, the girl he brought home, his bed, or his wall that creates the noise. coming from a place like seattle was different enough, a place on the west coast of the american continent that, in his opinion, is a balance between loud and calm. but then, his parents decide to move him from a seaport city to a metropolis in korea without their guidance, just knowing heeseung—back then an acquaintance of his because both of their fathers are friends—goes here to decelis high.

jay was a special kid. an only child of a new money family who, by destiny, will be the only one to inherit the wealth his dad has accumulated. his parents know this too: making him go to different classes to learn the most spoken language other than his native korean and sort-of native english; treating him to the highs of life by bringing him to go to vacation in a yacht; and all the craps he has done. but jay has always wanted one thing.

liberty.

no matter what he wants, his parents will always be involved. if he wants a toy car, his dad always bought a lamborghini one, not knowing he wants a BMW instead. when he wants to eat fried chicken, they brought him to a fine dining restaurant at a hotel when all he wants was to eat fast-food fried chicken at KFC. it all seems, to him, his parents don’t respect his own wants and needs; always divert him to the “correct” path so he could stay in the upper-class lane in a minority part of some 400 million-populated united states.

that’s why he agreed to go home to his home country on his own. heeseung—being there—is enough for his parents to trust him. all of that so he can get the freedom he craves.

jay’s savings are always brimming with his parents’ allowance that is much bigger for his liking, believing that their son wants to pamper himself and heeseung if he likes. he is always been a generous fellow after all—giving tips to the minimum wage workers he encountered. but he always lied to his parents when asking about how much money he now has on his debit card, hiding from them he hasn’t spent much at all. because he rather tried to get money on his own.

teenagers like to experiment with other things to find their “true” selves. so it isn’t a surprise that drugs are one of them.

jay always thought that drugs were always a bad thing. but when he discovered that caffeine is also a drug, his perspective changed. drugs are dangerous because of how people want to consume them; it could be addictive, it could be hallucinogenic, and it could be depressant. it can get you high or it can make you travel to another dimension. cigarettes were too common for a drug along with caffeine and alcohol, and he doesn’t want to break people up by making chemical-based drugs like cocaine or meth. he picked the safest and most natural route that gives enough high: weed.

he didn’t expect he got a best friend and business partner who will do what he wants. sunghoon is a classmate of his back from his first year until now. they’re seatmates too back then as they both have the same surname of “park”—the only ones in class. sunghoon told him everything. his parents, being diplomats, made him stay at home with his beloved grandfather nearly two hours away from school. they talked about each other’s struggles to be from such high-status parents that they bond easily. sunghoon’s grandfather was a pretty rebellious kid himself—as told by his grandson—so he allowed sunghoon to live with him and heeseung, not wanting to tie him down.

jay comes to like and enjoy his group of friends. heeseung and sunghoon are his flatmates, jake the jock—though the boy himself doesn’t like the stereotyping, kai the brain, taehyun the quiet, sunoo the friendly, and beomgyu, who is seemingly the de facto leader alongside heeseung. with the inclusion of girls too such as sunoo’s childhood friend and beomgyu’s sister who is seemingly on good terms with heeseung after the debacle between them and her brother. he can see the cracks in the group there, getting more showing as beomgyu seems to be more unexpected than ever, taehyun staying by his side more often than usual.

“so you don’t talk or?” his mouth blurted out as he can only think of one thing with your quiet self beside him. his head moves to examine the corners of your mouth lifted, mouthing “depends” and he can pick up how the air around creates a slight sound from how your mouth moves.

hearing something rubbing the asphalt, he turns to see you’ve stood up, one hand holding the plastic bag with the last can of cat food, the other pulling out your phone from your blazer. as the screen illuminates your face, your eyes widen before you glance back at him. your palm opens, curving motion to him as he puts his palm in it as both grasp with each other and you pull him up with your might. his head moves flowy as you look closer to his face, seeing his iris dilated but not that much as he seems sober enough.

“go home.” you mouthed, no voice heard, as you pat his shoulder before pointing back behind your shoulder and giving him a tight-lip smile with a small wave. leaving him behind with his joint nearly burnt out in between his lips as he stares at your back before disappearing around the corner.

that was the only time he regretted not bringing his skateboard so he can chase you down. but he found another smell mixing with his marijuana. the scent of a rose that could come from one person: you.

-

the thoughts of you show up in jay’s mind sporadically. any time he catches sight of a stray cat. any time he smells the fragrance of a rose. any time he sees that dark blue blazer on a teenager. it’s as haunting as the day he moved here. the looming presence of his parents on each of his shoulders. you’re now in their place.

it truly is weird, he realized. he didn’t know you until that day. the pieces of knowledge he has about you from that minuscule interaction are: you’re a levant high student and, presumably, you’re the sister of one of the famous students in that, (l/n) somi. jay has always learned to stay determined and focused on what he wants. any knowledge or information he could get that is beneficial to him. but it contradicts what his parents allow or don’t allow him to do or act. he is determined to support his group of friends any other way. he is determined to be independent outside of his wealth. now, he is determined to get to know you.

days have passed since you left that alley. he never expected to see you soon, especially with the heightened rivalry of the rugby season. he never said never because as jake said while twirling his rugby ball, “though we beat them. this is still preliminary. they can come back.” he could still find you someday, sometime.

but the universe said otherwise when he did “errands”, with only a couple of packages left to deliver as he roams the street downtown, passing by buildings of stores when he recognize the arcade heeseung introduced to him a week ago. and the group of dark-blue-blazer-wearing girls crowding a claw machine outside.

the haunting starts once again when he sees the blazer. but this is different. one familiar head stood out to him, the only quiet one in a group of cheering girls, as one of them successfully got a plushie. all except for her.

“great job, lily!” he catches one of them saying as he steps to the side, somehow hidden, but he can still listen to them.

“thanks, guys.” he heard the distinct australian accent—something he’s familiar with from hanging out with jake a tad bit too much.

all of their figures covered the last girl as they faced away from jay. the only one not having their hands full wrapping the plushie. the tallest out of the three approaches the girl. his eyes widen as he realizes who is being hyped up.

“come on! you can do this, (y/n)!” the girl said as she shake your shoulders. you give a tight-lip smile, seeing how tense your body is as if you’re holding something back. another girl with long hair pulls out a silver item from her pocket—a coin glinting under the sunlight. he views how each member of your group kisses the coin with you holding it and giving the ultimate kiss. you push the coin into the slot as the claw machine hums. the girls surround the machine, obscuring him from the prizes.

he was also holding his breath as the claw moved from the joystick you were handling. big shifts to the upper-right side before you do small jerks, adjusting the claw to your chosen prize. the anticipation kills him as he can only watch the descending claw before it’s concealed by the girls’ figures. he waited and waited for at least a che-

“four out of four!!!!”

your friends were jumping around as you kneel to get your prize, laughter flutters in their space from the surprising yet expected outcome. what he can’t believe is that even you laugh, the corner of your lips rising as you smile the widest he has ever seen. but it doesn’t last long as your curved corners fall. when he looks up at your eyes to see them focused on him.

you grasp onto your new—not surprising—kitten plushie, hugging it closer to cover the lower part of your face. your eyes fluttering away from his eye contact but your head is still facing his way as if you’re blanking his existence out of your mind and presence. the sudden change in you felt like whiplash to him, but it’s as if your friends expected it to happen as they near you before guiding you to walk away from the machine and arcade; leaving him with your lingering sense once again. smell, and now, sight.

jay didn’t expect so many orders from levant high students after the game. usually, an influx of sales came during sports season but no influx is attributed to a specific school—he wonders if something happened for them to want to try weed. maybe it’s because of that new tv show filled with teenagers doing unexpected shit, or people trying to experience something new other than cigarettes.

he had to wander from here and there around their area for about a week now, delivering the goods. sometimes finding them in hidden places like a dark pc bang near the rows of shops a few blocks from their school. sometimes in the open at the usual skating park he goes to. it was a wonderful week for his business out of the expected great season he hopefully gets in selling. but it’s also a busy one as his business partner is pining over multiple girls. yes, plural. changing one right after the other any other day. he will not be surprised if his dark circles will be more prominent in the following days as the sound of banging walls comes from behind his headboard.

twirling his black marker, the wind is blowing his hair out. his body tilts and balances as the skateboard beneath him rolls on the roughly-textured flat surface of the sidewalk. he looks at the approaching high walls of his school’s rival, the sea of students splitting up from his way before leaving specks of them as he nears the gates. the boy sees a bunch of people by the bus stop when he stops and kicks his skateboard up to grab it. pulling out his phone, he awaits his last customer’s confirmation of their whereabouts. their last message was to meet him by their school entrance.

jay’s sight wanders around the environment before his feet brought him near the front gate of the school. the benches that line up the road are vacant—he remembers his friends and him waiting there before the match where he is left. the students must have gone back to their respective homes to make them so vacant, but there is no sign of his buyer. that’s when he thought he misheard something.

sniffles.

surely spring’s weather causes people to have a runny nose and make them sniffle it up. but this one is not that. heck, there’s nobody he passes by while he is there listening to that faded sound.

jay turns to find the source before landing on one site. a figure folding its body forward is sitting on one bench obscured beneath the shadow of a tree. their hands covering their face as their body shook from the uncontrollable emotions flowing out. the sniffles getting louder as he nears them. but the scrapes of the ground each time he steps closer didn’t help. the person lifts their upper body before wiping the fallen tears on their cheekbones.

you.

you rubbed away your cheeks multiple times as if the stain still sticks, nibbling your teeth as you look away from the boy in front of you. the sound of a crunchy plastic bag is heard from beside you as he sees the glimpse of aluminium cans inside. his mind returns to how your eyes gazed at him a week back. first with annoyance, second with caution. today, with overwhelming foggy grey resembling the dark clouds waiting for its time to drop rain.

“hey-“

you stood up from the bench when jay called you, grabbing onto your belongings and walking towards him on the almost non-existing dirt path. you stride past his body away as your steps increase in pace, faltering away outside the gates as he turns around. something you have done to him twice. though he is under different circumstances: he doesn’t need to follow you. all he can do is leave you behind to deliver the goods and get his money. or he could follow so he can comfort you. because, though he only knows you as that levant girl who gives food to stray cats, he never offers somebody his roll.

as if he can smell your rose scent as a trace, he frowns before following your retreating figure meters away from him, opening the text to his customer before saying.

“fuck u for ghosting me. u’ll get ur goods tomorrow.“

jay can’t use his skateboard to get to you as the street is full of people. moving around people waiting for the crosswalk lights to turn green, around customers buying street, and any other person of all shapes and sizes. but his tall stature helps him see you at the edge of his vision, catching you turning corners before he runs to get you.

jay heaves as he turns the last corner, his shoulder leaning against the brick wall as he slumps—he regretted not joining the weekly jog jake does along with sunghoon and beomgyu. eyes looking down at the asphalt while he catches his breath, he uprights his figure so he can continue to follow you.

“for fuck-“ he jumps as he sees an apparition in front of him.

you standing right before him.

an unamused look that is unnatural in your bloodshot eyes burns him. yet, for him, it makes sense.

you nibble your bottom lip as you gaze at him, tilting your head, silently telling him to speak. jay never felt this startled that his senses are hyperaware—even he can listen to chirpings from blocks away.

“i wanna offer to help you give out the food.” he made up something as best as he can. yet, he can see from your eyes that you weren’t believing him completely.

“you know, repaying what i’ve done a week ago?” he rubs his neck.

you killed it, jay. for god’s sake. he thought. he can easily turn around before he embarrasses himself again. jay has never been bold to comfort someone. but you intrigue him. you intrigue him so much more than the crush he got on his classmate back in the first year, before sunghoon got her first and hook up with her. how you are, allegedly, the hidden sibling of one of your school’s popular students, is shocking in this day and age where social media and people prying on people’s privacy are normal. yet, you don’t even seem to talk at all and you’re not treated the same as somi is in your environment.

you push your hand out, open palm, as you sniffle back your leftover emotions. with your other hand, you point to the name tag on one side of your blazer.

(l/n) (y/n). the same last name as who he can now confirm is your sister.

“i’m jay.” he shakes your hand with his before he sees you tilting your head again, looking towards his chest. he follows your eyesight to the name tag on his blazer that is written park jongseong.

“it’s my birth name,” he replied before he caught your hum and let go of his grasp. you use your chin to point towards him before turning around, signaling for him to follow you as you grab one can from the dangling plastic bag and push it to his hand.

he tried his best not to scare any feline you’ve called or approach the two of you as you open the canned food, especially trying his best to not sneeze. you and he walk around one neighbourhood full of stray cats as one by one, the weight of the plastic bag lightens with the now empty cans being put inside to be put away and recycled.

in the last alleyway he and you travel, the adult cat there seems to have known your presence, approaching you when you walk closer and rubbing against your legs so you can lean down and pat its head. squeaks and tiny meows enter his ears as he looks at a cardboard box that is lightly shaking. jay approaches closer alongside you as you put the can with the leftover food for the cat, crouching down to see a litter of kittens inside crawling around and even attempting to climb outside the cardboard box. the scratchy sound of the claw against the box’s texture seems to excite the other ones so that they all wake up.

jay felt something wet on his hand as the cat—the mother of the kittens—smell his scent before rubbing her head on his palm, allowing him to pat her head and body gently. you let yourself sit on the asphalt alley as you picked up the kittens outside and onto your skirt-covered lap, hearing your small chuckles along with the kittens’ meow as they scattered around the two of you. he follows suit as a few of them approach him and even climbing onto his skateboard as the kitten’s stance change from the swaying board.

the serenity he recognizes between the two of you comes back in his mind as he stares at the fluffy felines who approach him and then you. one of them seems to like you enough that they stick to you while their siblings wander towards his sitting space or eat with their mom. the sun above them is now falling towards the west as jay enjoys a moment he hasn’t done before. knowing his parents’ “overprotectiveness”, he could never play outside, let alone play with stray animals.

“thank you.” someone says before he lifts his head from a kitten on his lap to you, who is glancing at him. he didn’t even realize it was you who spoke before he is a beat too late.

“she speaks!” jay exclaimed as he sees you pout, shaking your head. as you continue playing with the kittens that are surrounding you. picking one up to put in your lap, you let the kitten playfully bite onto your finger as he stares at it, wondering if you felt the pain from the bites or if you're benumbed by it.

“so, correct me if i’m wrong, but your sister is somi, right?” he asked, which make quiet down before you slowly nod, the corner of your lips turned slightly upside down. yet, jay doesn’t notice and continues his tangent.

“how has anyone not known of your presence?”

“i like it that way.” you cut him off. you sigh as you grab the kitten’s small body off of you, scooting closer. it scared you that your voice might be too soft so he couldn’t hear. well, you rarely talk after all.

“my sister and i are two different people.” you spoke to him, so soft and so articulated that he can hear a certain accent that you have. “what you presume about her cannot be the same as how you presume about me.” you tilted your head away, not wanting to lay your eyes on him. yet, your voice envelops his mind with how pretty yet haunting it is, especially from your quiet persona.

his mind recalls how somi is one of the people in the wealthy crowd. how, technically, you can be known as a chaebol, feeding from the silver spoon that your parents have served you. an old money family and maybe much wealthier than his own family. you lean your head to face him once again, your eyes staring his way but avoiding his own eyes, lips pouting as he gazes at you.

“maybe i’m much more like you,” you said, looking down at your palm before putting two fingers up from one of your hands, resembling how one holds a roll of cigarette right in between the two before they're being grabbed by the kitten as it bites them once again.

you give the kitten on your hold the last few pats before putting the feline on top of his skateboard, letting you scan the scratch on the top side which is dark-coloured, even finding a shoe mark on it.

“why are you here, jongseong?”

jay gulps his saliva down when he heard you call him by his birth name. even with your low-volume voice, the empty atmosphere of the alley lets him hear your words, and it sends shivers down his spine. he never felt this nervous since he tested to go to decelis high. the vision of the future is blurry but he knew that when he passed, he will be happier. but, he just now realized how he has pinned you unconsciously into a box and it terrifies him you notice. he had no choice but to tell the truth.

“you interest me. seeing you cry makes me want to comfort you. seeing you alone on that first row of the crowd catches my eye. seeing you with your plastic bag full of cat food makes me intrigued by you. seeing you here, living your life with a quiet demeanor… you know what i’ll say next.” he let out his thoughts and all you can do is give him a small smile.

“well…” you put your hands on top of where your heart is. chuckles flow out of you, shrugging your shoulders as you let your sight wanders to the alleyway that is only you and he in it.

“it’s funny, innit? how you can easily fancy me when i don’t even try to?” you commented, biting your bottom lip as you accidentally let out the slang words you tried your best not to speak out after moving back here. your gaze goes to his skateboard, “though i am intrigued with riding a skateboard.”

jay’s eyebrows rose from your comment, signaling to him how you want to try it. “you don’t know how to?” he confirmed with your shaking head.

“then, i’ll teach you next time.”

“will there be one?” you glance between your uniform and his which he catches. though you don’t join in on your school’s pop culture, you knew about your school’s rivalry with decelis high. if there was a history of high school fights outside of sports and formal competition, it would be between decelis and levant. though that tradition has dwindled, the tension is still there. that’s why both of your schools tried their best to compete; academically and in other ways. you remembered there was a romeo and juliet situation between both schools way back when and their relationship help with erasing the fighting tradition between the two students. but, there is still an unspoken rule between levant students to not have relations with decelis students whatsoever.

your sister told you to stay away from them after her terrible memories of hooking up with a decelis student. how erratic they are, but they’re also one of the nicest people she knew back then. she knows how narcissistic they are after a few times and now she warns you to stay away. hence, your comment that the boy seems to understand too.

“outside of school grounds. outside of the uniform. you and i, okay?” he replied. the sound of a ringtone playing startled the kittens around him as he picked up his phone. a “shit” fell from his mouth as he answered. you heard him talk about what you can assume to be the weed that he introduces to you but there’s no reason someone calls him about it. does he know someone who sells it?

one of jongseong’s hands wraps around one of your wrists as he uncapped his marker hastily with that same hand—as if he is learning to do that for efficiency. you feel the tickle and moist of the marker on your skin, seeing him writing something on your forearm as you hold it in place while his phone is pushed against his ear. he stopped writing as he holds onto your hand until the call ends and he puts your arm back on your thigh before standing up.

“i have errands to do. sorry for leaving you behind,” he answered, and you helped put the kittens back in the box as the mom jumps in and immediately groomed them. you see the boy already on his skateboard, ready to push his leg and skate away.

“call me, kay?” he gives a small smirk before letting out a last “see ya.” he skates away from the alley, leaving you behind as you unrolled your blazer’s sleeve, seeing the phone number written on your forearm.

-

you miss the home that you had for a decade.

you miss the salty smell of the sea blocks away from your front door and how effortlessly you can go to the pier to take a break from your increasing-in-level studies. it is because you’ve always seen it as a mistake for your parents to bring you back here to seoul, deep down knowing just how much they don’t acknowledge your well-being here. it is as if you haven’t left that town in the first place, seeing yourself as another cog in their clockwork.

brighton is a small town compared to the UK’s capital and not as larger-than-life as the urban metropolis you live in now. but even a place that small can mean so much for a little girl like you who can compare the two. they sent you there after all and you don’t know the detailed reason why they did it, even when you’re in the clouds thousands of meters above the ground. ‘how can they let you go so easily?‘ you remembered yourself pondering, watching the people turning into ants as the hum from the plane continues to sound before it became a common buzz for your ears.

fragmented memories appear in your head as you reflect on how close you are with your sister, somi, back then. “two peas in a pod”, as she likes to say it; always stayed by each other’s side. both of you play house together in a dollhouse your parents bought, do random activities in your backyard garden such as making tea parties, and swim in the large pool your mansion owns—submerged by both the sound of nature muffled with the sloshing water. yet, none of your parents is in your sight during that thing, making housekeepers serve you as they focus on their other child: the conglomerate you will inherit in the future.

or so you thought when your parents bring you along to the airport, assuming that you were going to say your farewells to your uncle and aunt that were going back to the UK—instead of only the couple going home, they have one more person who they brought with them.

somi was too young to give an opinion of letting her younger sister go, wanting her chauffeur to bring her to the airport instead of her elementary school after he told her you went there—something her parents have told him not to tell as they know she will be in a rage, or “nag” as they like to call it. she believed you stayed home because you were sick, not noticing a suitcase prepared right beside your bed as she left you asleep while smoothing down her uniform. as the years went by, she has to live with only chunks of you in her mind having fun while going to school, being self-taught by your parents business jargons, and learn how to manage things such as her stuff; an early management training to early for one’s liking. for the longest time your parents separated you both, she thought they also taught the same thing as her too.

you always believed that they might surprise visit you one day after you came back from primary school, expecting to find your sister’s grin and her suitcase with a different colour compared to yours at the front door of the house you reside in. you’ve wondered if your parents have forgotten you after a year there—making you think they see you as a mere relative—while you know have adapted to your aunt and uncle being your parent figures instead. they taught you everything you needed outside of what you learn in the education system, but seemingly not involving you in the business side of things that you’ve known before. much different from the complicated words somi has to learn back home when she enters elementary. you don’t even remember if you have ever seen your uncle taking any part in the family business, only describing to you the concept of a family trust and how you, he, and your aunt own a part in it.

at the dining table in your last year of primary, your uncle finally told you why you were here.

“it’s because your dad found a successor in somi, like how your granddad saw him back then.“ he then points between you and himself, “we are the spares of the family, (y/n). though we do have a voice, especially in the voting trust, they won’t and don’t give us access to the family business, no matter how useful it is to have more than one family member working even in there.“ your uncle continue as you glance at your aunt, giving you a small nod and a solemn smile.

you grip your utensils, realizing how left out you are, like a pain plunge into your soul as your uncle chuckled, “just like the royal family, only one can be the highest monarch. and our family is running on the same first-child basis as what they have here."

with that knowledge out of the way, you accepted your status. you accept that you’re a trust fund baby and you may lavish on whatever money you can get from the piece of the trust you own. then, you’ve planned out your future. how you will spend your adolescent years here, going until sixth form, doing a-levels, entering a prestigious university here, and then doing whatever you want for the rest of your life.

that is until your parents called you to go back home to korea when you’re entering year 10 of secondary school.

there is fear within you when you face them for the first time in a decade. comparing when you left to when you arrived back is weird, how unfamiliar all of this has been, even though pictures of the environment outside of the window of the car still look the same as the ones burn in your memory; especially not knowing the motives for why they sent you away other than they see you as a spare. yet, they also don’t give any explanation on why they want you back. in a blink of an eye and a step towards them, you don’t know what to say or do in their presence.

you’re not a talkative person per se, one of the quiet ones in your class back in brighton and even quieter now. but the anxiousness grows as you went to the mansion you used to call home, how you watch more housekeepers roaming around than the ones you remember they have. then when you and your entourage arrived, you finally meet your sister wearing her high school uniform. and you couldn’t openly say “hi”, giving only a small wave, to which she replied with a small smile. your sister grew up beautifully, especially with her blonde hair that makes her appearance resemble a barbie doll you both used to play with together. still, you don’t comprehend what your parents are going to do to you and you stayed quiet about it until these days.

going to levant, they expected you to follow what somi is doing by everyone around you. blend in well, be part of the popular kind, go do cheer, wear feminine accessories and style, and you did so because you’re worried—still are—that they’re going to spare you away once again. in your mind, this was a way to redeem yourself, to show them they’re going to regret sending you away. back in your first year of high school, you still have a glimmer of hope that they see you differently and will treat you differently, unlike what your granddad does to your uncle and your dad. but going to school here changes what you thought of as something bad, is now much, much worse.

your quiet demeanour back in brighton allowed others to bully you, but you thought it’s what kids do—joking around about someone different from them in any aspect—and you fought back. you wanted to use your family name as a shield when you realized they know nothing about it other than the global company your family owns. so, you persevere. you tough it up and face them by not caring about them. and they accepted you, the quiet alien who likes cats because she said she relates to them so much, into the in-group enough that you have a small circle of friends. but here in seoul, the level of toxicity sky-rocketed and you never felt it boil your skin until you see what they do in cheer practice.

eavesdropping from people, you only have two choices after seeing your fellow schoolmates’ drooping faces and awakening stress: you are going to either join the tradition or be an outcast. your sister chooses the former and her family name doesn’t help either—setting an obvious target on her back. when you caught wind of this, you got even quieter, silent, and stealthily wanders under somi’s shadow. yet, having a sister for cheer captain, you can’t say you don’t have privilege of how your senior treats you. but when you see the other first-year students being overwhelmingly harassed at practice behind the coaches’ guides, you choose to stay silent verbally, but your action contradicts it.

you embrace the other three that seem to agree with your plan—lily, haewon, and yuna—as you all tried to expose the toxicity of the cheer group: collecting evidence from photos and audio recordings before sending it to the principal anonymously, and all of you agree to quit right after sending it. the senior cheer members have a smug smile when they know that their weakest soldiers have fallen and left the squad, but they didn’t expect you to leave, somi didn’t even if she lived in the same house as yours; your room is in the other side of the house from hers. that was the first and only time you’ve used your actual voice to them. that was the only time you ever felt powerful against them before you fade again into obscurity.

the comfort level between the four of you lets you try to speak to them, and they’re so nice to you, letting you set your own pace to open up while the others also do the same thing. lily’s accent caught your attention and confirmed when she said she moved here from australia—she has the same reaction when you spoke and caught a bit of an accent and slang words in the way you talk, haewon never fail to crack your group up from her funny expressions and jokes, while yuna brings out the sassy yet sweet aura of the group. all of you stayed together throughout the first year and even got closer as you all are assigned to the same class this year.

your outings with them become more of a routine, how they give their free time to help you give out food to stray cats, go to the arcade, and other things. being the spare, you embraced your inner princess margaret and start to slowly defy what your parent expects from you, which you now realized because they want you to become somi 2.0. if they don’t want you as yourself, might as well make you like their ideal successor. well speaking of it, that is what they told you after you came back home too late for your parents’ liking, even though somi, who is a year older than you, is still out there.

“you either going to follow what we want of you, or you’re not going to have a piece of the company.“

gladly, you thought. but you remain silent and it is slowly frustrating them. you now knew your fear and anxiety can become a weapon against them.

you differentiate yourself from your sister, most of your clothes—all were somi’s hand-me-downs—are given to your housekeepers for them or if they have a child back home. you dressed more down-to-earth, quiet literally, with earthy colours that clash with your sister’s extravagant pastel blues and pinks. and you don’t care if your parents tell you their grimy, plus earthy colours look more business-savvy. you always use your pocket money to buy can food for stray cats at least once per week, getting your emotion sucked up by playing with them and giving good to beings that also live on this earth along with humans.

but even under a strong and mysterious persona, people perceived you in ways that they see as negative, calling you a weirdo, a black sheep, a failure, and comparing you to your sister behind their backs. and it all seems to break down when your carpool doesn’t arrive to get you home, seeing the text from your assigned chauffeur that they were fired. they were supposed to be on your side as they waited for you to finish giving the cats food and vouch for you. that day you finally broke down, the pressure from inside rising to get out of you.

that is until your second encounter with jay which makes you see a different light of him.

annoyance came to you when his sneeze scare the cats away, like what bloke can sneeze so loud that it rivals your uncle? nonetheless, when he offered you his roll of weed, you accepted it and you wing it. deep down, you were smirking at how the way you smoke makes him think that you’ve smoked before it is actually your first time, and you don’t care when the buzz reaches your head, sending you into an almost foggy state but making your senses hyper. he must have a high tolerance for being able to ride a skateboard while high, seeing the board with wheels poking out from beside his body when you caught him at the arcade.

but when he approached you in your most vulnerable self publicly, you didn’t expect him to utter those words to you. at first, he seemed to want to banter with you about what happened a week prior. but the fact that he fancies you is unexpected. a decelis high skater and stoner—definitely a bad boy type—finds you intriguing. no other person is as bold as him. sure, you have a few crushes yourself, but you always get the confirmation of people having a crush on you after the feelings were gone. no one has ever openly confessed their interest to you. and now, you didn’t know what to comment on other than the obvious fact that you’re also intrigued by him. but you both live different lives, going to rival schools, and you should not even be seen with him at all.

when you see the clutter around both of you, the skateboard was the only way you can catch him before he slithers away, and that’s what he promises you to do if you text him about it. so now here you are, the floor below you carries you higher and higher before the elevator lets out a “ding”, opening to the destination floor you’ve pressed the button to.

you look between the text he sends you and the apartment number as you walk down the clean and gleaming hallway, hearing the sound of scratching rubber from the trainers you’re wearing. eyes scanning the plaque, you slow down your steps as you arrived at the door with the number he texted you. you press the bell button as it is muffled behind the door, giving a small smile at the front door. a click sounded as the heavy door opens, and an almost recognizable girl behind the ajar door peeks out. she’s wearing very comfortable clothes that are too big for her figure—something you see yourself wearing—but her hooded eyes catch your attention. it looks as if she has been asleep and the bell you pressed has woken her up. but her upbeat demeanour says otherwise.

“hi, you must be the guest jay’s waiting for,” she said as the door widens. her hand outstretches for you to shake as she lets out a small smirk. jay didn’t tell you that she lives with a girl before, or maybe she was visiting to take a rest.

“you can come in, he’s in the shower.” the girl speaks as you follow her inside the apartment. shoes litter on the front of the door as the girl tried her best to tidy them up while mentioning her name, not catching it clearly as she moved away. when you step inside, you were met with a large open living space and a herbal scent mixing in the air—your rose scent is obscure by it. a hallway stretches as you see four different doors, but one side of the open space catches your eye. four tidy pots of plants rested on racks, the leaves creating almost like a bed but hollow underneath. your eyes follow the way the plants are structured, how jagged the leaves are, and how only odd numbers of them grow on each stem.

wait…

“i don’t smoke them.” you caught the girl say beside you. “but they do. they sell it actually. hoon and jay,” she continued as you turn towards her, making her neutral expression quickly drops.

“you don’t… know…” her words got a shrug from you as she chuckles, “i thought you were here to buy one.” you shake your head and wave your hands a no.

a boy’s voice call for the girl’s name from behind you, eyes widen as you now recognize who she is by the name that you should've asked her to repeat. that’s when you turn back to find one of the boys jay is friends with coming from one of the closed doors—you know because you’ve seen his face in a few photos from jay’s profile. he approaches her as you tried to distract yourself away from their conversation, taking a pretty long time before you heard her voice say, “i’m not leaving her behind. we can stay here first, right?”

“who’s her?” you glance at them.

“her.” she points to you as you give a tight-lip smile and a small wave.

“oh hi, didn’t see you- wait? aren’t you (y/n)? (l/n) (y/n)?” the boy said as you see his hand wrapped around the girl’s love handle. your jaw almost dropped as you realize the signals they give to you. staring at them as discreetly as possible you now realize who each of them is. the boy is heeseung, the famous student council president of your neighbouring school and after jogging the familiar name of the girl, you realized that that’s the name of beomgyu’s sister—her style and vibe almost resemble him in a way when you inspect her further. how you know about her is because of what your sister told you about her brother—her having a bad sentiment that you understand. you sure hope she’s not as shitty as her brother. but, you didn’t realize they’re exclusive to each other until his smooth moves.

“guilty.” you mouthed while showing a thumbs up.

heeseung lets out a giggle as he stares at you before turning to the girl. “jjong told me about her before, babe. you know?” he said before you see her eyes enlarged, letting out ahs and oohs as she then whispered into his ears. your body shrinks as you glance at them before looking away as fast as you can. the fear inside of you slowly grows as your mind flew everywhere, even taking a dip into your darkest thoughts that you’re always reminded of.

“guys. your giggles are creeping her out.” you heard a voice from behind them as you lean to the side, seeing the boy you were waiting for as you timidly wave. you scoot your way towards him, realizing how similar both of you dress with your grey-tone t-shirt and blue jeans combo. the boy seems to suspect something as you sensed your body being dragged towards him by your forearm. the couple looks at each other as they noticed their friend’s small initiation, letting out smiles to each before turning towards the two of you.

“good luck on your date, jongseong.” heeseung said as he lets out a charismatic smirk. if your eyes can get widened, it would as you glance at the boy beside you, seeing him with an unreadable expression.

“we should have a double date, triple i guess if hoon wanna joins but eh…” the girl said, a look of jokingly disgust on her face makes you chuckle inside before jay turns his body and walk towards the door. the atmosphere suddenly tightens as you turn to follow your hangout friend and skateboard trainer to the front door of the apartment.

“(y/n)?” your name is called as you turn your head towards the source. heeseung and the girl let out a solemn smile.

“i don’t know what kind of my magic you got to get my boy that whipped for you. but take care of him, okay? he’s been a lot more cranky these days.” heeseung answered as he glance at the girl beside her as she continues, “he only told us two about how he’s felt towards you. per what heeseung said, he hasn’t been this serious with someone since his best friend… yeah…”

you blinked and gave tiny nods to tell them you listen to them loud and clear. the mention of his best friend and how she paused her words makes you pierce a mental thumbtack in your memory. though you don’t know the detailed sentiment, you caught that this best friend of his—“hoon” as they like to call him—has meddled in his love life much more than jay’s liking.

giving a nod and a smile to the two, you return to the front door as you see jay tying his shoes up. besides where you crouched down to put your own on, a cabinet door opens as you catch two skateboards inside in an upright position. one is more decorated than the other—the one you recognize he brought when you both feed the cats. a shadow of jay’s stature steps near you as he pulls out the skateboards into his hands before pushing one towards you when you stand up.

“this is my spare one if this one gets broken. it’s the same model so it should be alright.” the boy explained as you pick it up with both of your hands, the weight of the wood is not as heavy as the cans of cat food you bring in your plastic bag—a few of them are in the backpack you’re wearing cause you rather be prepared than say sorry towards their cute little face for not filling their appetite. jay lets out a small smirk as he grabs his own backpack and tucks the skateboard between his arm and body.

“shall we?”

-

the street of seoul reminds you of brighton as you both walk on the pavement, sightseeing square-looking buildings in a street that is big enough for only two lanes going opposite ways. in a way, you’ve tried to embrace the “you from the past” now as best as you can. maybe your parents firing your chauffeur is a blessing in disguise at a point that you’ve tried to push yourself for nearly a year now, letting you take back the independence you used to have back in your aunt and uncle’s. in your house today, only your housekeepers care if you’re home or not but they also vouch for you if you go to the city by yourself—coming from the little acts of kindness you’ve done to them. the last day of the weekend is—of course, as crowded as usual. you gaze at the people going out with their families and friends to refresh their minds for the two days they have, and as you both walk near the han river, it seems that skateboarding is one way they refresh.

the skateboard on your hold is a tad bit slanted as you always repair how you grip it. the sound of rubbing on concrete decorates the area that is made of slopes and curves—the view of the river is marvellous and you immediately understand why this is jay’s favourite skate park. skateboarders of all diversity make the indents on the ground more colourful with their outfits, their boards, and a speck of street art on them. dangerous tricks such as kicks and spins make you grimace, catching the boy’s attention who is beside you.

“i will not teach you that. unless you’re fucking with me and you’re also great at skateboarding.” you let a chuckle at his comment as you stray from the main path of the han river recreational area to go to the skate park. when you both arrive there, you see people greeting jay in various ways, shouting their hellos, waving their hands, and giving him high five or fist pumps. seeing them in green cargo pants notes you to buy them and put them in your wardrobe—bloody hell, they look great. your eyes gaze at how smoothly they’re riding their skateboards around you, making your fingers fidget while holding the same thing in your hand.

“hey, we’re gonna put our bags and start, alright?” jay speaks to you right beside your ear. you turn to see how close his face is to yours, very close. you gaze at the faded freckles that decorated his cheekbones, his sun-kissed skin illuminated in the afternoon sun before your trance falls away as you give him a nod and go to the bench that he puts his backpack on. your shoulders are much lighter than before because of the less weight, you roll your shoulders to stretch them up as jay puts the skateboards right by his feet. your palms are getting sweaty as you tried your best to wipe them off. what if you fell? what if you’re reckless enough to do a mistake?

“so, do you have any experience with boards of any kind?” he asked as you tilt your head while stepping closer to him.

“i can ride a bicycle, not exactly a board but balancing on something, right?”

“yup. so…” you see him rub his hand as he drags the skateboard he lends to you with his foot, rolling it to put it in between the two of you. “we’re going to start with balancing. you’re gonna step on the board and tried to balance as best as you can.” he said.

you gnaw the inside of your cheek, staring interchangeably between the boy and the board between both of your feet. your experience riding a bicycle sure helps him calm down, but you didn’t mention that the last time you rode one was back in year 7 when, after a certain incident, you just haven’t thought of buying another one for yourself anymore. the tingling of the scar on your pelvis from falling off your bicycle comes back as you don’t know if you’re balanced enough for this.

as you put one foot on the board, it trembles under you. how different it is that you have to learn how to manage your weight and how much should you put on the surface that has touched. your hands are wide enough for you to get your sense of balance, lifting them as you focus on your feet more. when you felt like you’re ready enough, you lift your other foot off the ground and put it on the board beside yours. the adrenaline coursing through as you thought you nailed it on the first try, no need to embarrass yourse-

the board slips under your foot as hands hold onto both of your arms. you breathe rapidly as your heart thumps as if it’s near out of your ribcage. your reaction to one of your feet slipping to the ground came late as you finally hissed from the pain surging through your nerves, looking up to catch jay’s furrowed eyebrows as he stares at you. you knew from his eyes what his concern was and your nods seem to calm him down as his grip on you lessen.

“hold on to me if you need to, okay?” he reminds you as he drags the board to your feet once again and this time, you lean to what he said. one of your hands in jay’s as you step onto the shaky board one step at a time, letting him guide you upright as you stare at your feet once again.

“(y/n)?” you tried your best to stop your wobbly legs before looking up at him. jay’s face has a look that screams determination as he holds you with both hands near your elbows.

“eyes on me, okay? it’ll help with your balancing because of your center of gravity,” he tells you as you gulp down your saliva. breathing in and out, you straighten your posture enough as the board is getting not as shaky as the first time you rode it. how your eyes stay on his face is getting your cheeks warm, even if they’re looking downwards to your feet.

jay helps you to find your balance as he then teaches you how you use your foot to push the board for it to move, and how the board moves left and right depending on how you put the weight on your feet. and even if he felt confident that you can roll on your own by the end of the day, he didn’t expect you to nail it on the first try. you didn’t count how much you failed to roll and balance on the board; each time comes with you jumping from the moving board or slip off to the ground. with each accident, jay comes running to catch you before you fall or pull you up to your feet when you fell. but every time he sees you fall off the board, your chuckles always fill your presence. how nonchalantly you take this challenge and how you took this practice session as if you are having fun. and when you nailed it, he couldn’t help but clap as much as he can when you turn around and roll on the concrete before stopping in front of him.

“you did great.” he says as he pulls you close, not minding the proximity because of how close you two had been the entire time when he holds you to not let you fall. and you seem to not mind it either as you mouthed a “thanks” before you caress the back of your neck, letting you take a rest.

the refreshing water runs down your oesophagus until the very last drop. you work out your ankles from how hurt they are been mostly from slipping, resting them on top of the skateboard that you used as it drags back and forth following your movement. where’s jay, you asked? you heard his whoop as you stare at his figure flinging all around the slopes. how effortlessly he does aerial spins and kicks his skateboard 180 degrees before landing it perfectly. jay performs as if he is all by himself, with no one to bother him as he tries the tricks he has up his sleeves, but you have a nagging feeling that he is doing it to impress you too.

when jay is skateboarding away at the other side of the area, you let your vision gaze at the other people in your vicinity and the main path right beside the skate park. people riding bicycles, pushing strollers, and jogging goes by that path before you see people cruising down the path on a board, similar to a skateboard, albeit longer. that’s peng, you thought. skateboarding like jay is doing might be too daredevil-ish for you. maybe riding it that way will give you the same senses but much more relaxed.

“what’s peng???” a voice startles you as you found jay now standing beside where you sit, drinking his own water bottle before sitting down beside you. you don’t know if he’s asking you the thing that is peng or the definition of peng, but you answer as best as you perceived.

“i saw people cruising down the path with a board, but a longer one?” you quietly speak so only he can listen to you. he replied with a hum as his eyes landed on the path as more people on boards are riding on that path before going to face you.

“it’s a longboard, the one they’re using. skateboards are shorter but you can cruise with them too. i definitely see you do that more rather than doing tricks.” your eyes follow his movement as he looks down at both the skateboards under you. a chuckle came out and you mouthed “definitely”. you lean back and rested your hands beside you on the bench, seeing the blue sky that is drifting to the west, with the darkness coming from the horizon. you peer beside you and see jay taking a glimpse of you.

“so how is today’s lesson?” he playfully asked, as if you’re literally someone under his care, a trainer asking for feedback. to be honest, even with your hurting ankle that might cause unintentional consequences, this moment is the most brighton thing you ever felt in a long time. though you don’t want to undermine what you and your friends have, hanging out with someone new outside of the dramas in levant is refreshing.

you can only give a thumbs up which he replied with a wistful sigh. jay grabs onto his bag before zipping open the front pouch, letting you take a glimpse of two different boxes, one you’re familiar with and the other that is customized. he grabs the customized one and opens it for you to see the thick rolls of joint inside, pulling one out before closing it and replacing it with his lighter. jay expected little from smoking weed openly in a place full of people smoking, but he caught your glance and it immediately intimidates him.

you give him a small pout as you shift your head. the look in your eyes shines with panic and concern. jay understood what you meant whilst he pull out the joint from between his lips and returned it to the box before grabbing the cig box he kept, replacing it so he can blend in with the others. “much of a daredevil, aren’t you?” you commented as he flicks the lighter and put the flame on the cigarette butt.

“well, you’re right. that’ll be stupid of me to get caught having a joint on me in public areas where people can see,” jay spoke, smoke coming out of his mouth. he offered you the cylinder as you brought your lips to it, taking an inhale as the smoke warmed your mouth before pulling back and slowly letting them go. jay was holding his breath the whole time before he took another shot of the burning substance.

“is there a reason you like weed more than cigs?” you asked, genuinely curious to know from the amount he might consume not even for a week but a day of it. the perception of him being a stoner quickly changes as you now learn that he also makes them too, in his home for bloody heck.

“i like the high it gives me.” he answered with a general answer for a stoner, “and to spite my parents.” jay peeks at you from the corner of his eyes. your body, at once, turns rigid when he mentions ‘parents’. all the memories you had about your parents crawling up in your mind and enveloping your vision in it.

“is that why you decide to sell it too?” you catch his enlarged eyes as he looks between the burning cig that is halfway down, before towards you. you reaffirm his unspoken question with a nod before he exhales the air he was holding.

“i’m trying to be financially independent being left alone here. my parents living in seattle have been pampering me so much it annoys me, you know?” he told you as you analyze it. how by the words he said alone, you can conclude: how wealthy his parents are, how he has been holding back from indulging in what he wants, and how he has lived outside of seoul. none of that information is present in his instagram profile—you feel dodgy when you see the well-built apartment he lives in, but it’s still not enough of a prediction for past you. you give him a small nod, learning how similar yet on the different side of the spectrum both of you are.

“what business does your family run?” jay lets out a tight-lip smile as he turns to you after finishing your question, puffing out the smoke from the cigarette before stretching his hand towards you once again, allowing you to take another hit.

“travel agency. helping tourists on their vacation in various countries in asia. providing tour guide, setting up tours, et cetera.” you let out a smile as your tongue rubs the residue of the cigarette that rests on your teeth. how sticky it felt you’re familiarizing yourself. you definitely need to brush your teeth as soon as possible when you get home.

“if you know somi, you must have heard my media conglomerate family then. though i’m not the one they're pushing to stay in the limelight like she is.” you let out as you nod as you giggled. “crazy how similar we are, huh?” your comment takes his attention as your giggles die down. the sky above you is darkening as the streetlights are turning on, yet you both didn’t want this to end. but even that, he thought it was not the right time to ask you to elaborate.

“so in that apartment, you live alone?”

“nah. heeseung and sunghoon are my roommates.” jay closed his eyes as he sees the faces of his friends in sight. the ridiculousness of their attitudes back on the bench they always hang out on at school. “we have this gang of friends at school, all nine- well, ten of us now that always hang with each other.” you let a hum as he continues to introduce his friends.

heeseung, other than the council president of decelis, is his roommate whom he has met back when he lived in the US—their fathers are friends and that’s why he allowed the boy to live with heeseung. sunghoon is his best friend—the “hoon” guy you’ve been hearing—has his troublemaker ways. jay mentions how sunghoon is his business partner, helping to send their orders away and more of the one that works in the field. but when you see him mentioning his best friend, you can view how his eyes turn fiery—heeseung told you how cranky he has been, is it because of him?

he continues introducing you to the other people in the gang. kai is a debate club member. his talkative nature makes him a great person who could convince people in an argument—he gave an example of the guy being the mc for their family feud-style game night. jake is the captain of the rugby team this season—you chuckle at how he still apologizes that your school lost against them as if you care about it. he mentions how many of his friends—nearly half—are part of the film club. he mentions sunoo and his best friend, who he describes as the sunshine siblings because of how playful they are. taehyun, who is their documentary guy, loves his camera, and brings it with him all the time—you might view yourself in him. then beomgyu, the star actor of the club. the most famous senior in the school other than heeseung as he explained.

“and beomgyu’s sister who is now heeseung’s girlfriend. they had a mess in the beginning and because of that, beomgyu’s not been around us for a while now, bringing taehyun with him for his bidding.” he lets out a sigh, finishes with bitterness on his tongue as you let out a wide smile from how he looks knackered just for describing his nine friends.

“i could say the same to you about my three friends though we don’t seem as chaotic as you guys are. they’re lovable, sassy, funny, and determined at the same time. we met in the cheer squad before all of us called it quits.” you brush your hair as you stare back at him, your smile turning sombre as the mention of them brought you to the haunting memories of constant harassment.

“that’s why i saw you beside your sister back in the match,” jay spoke enthusiastically before he turns towards you, your eyebrows already raised.

“no- no, i didn’t stalk you. i just saw you, okay? your sister ruffling your head before she left to do her routine.” he described perfectly what happened at the match as you give the benefit of the doubt about him. that day, your sister was trying to convince you to go back to the squad again. but the way you catch them treating your junior like crap, you were pissed off. you only come and attend that match so that it’ll be easier to give out the food for the felines. you didn’t think anyone notice it, especially from the school that you’re competing with.

“we don’t have the best sibling relationship. family things,” you spoke out the fact. taking yourself back to how you’re overshadowed by your sister’s presence and how you want to escape it. even with how much you avoid being associated with her, people still know you as her sister.

“i feel you, though not the sibling one ‘cause i’m an only child.”

“that’s unlucky. new money sole successor. no wonder your parents are pampering you so much.” your comment earns a laugh from jay as he nods his head, knowing that is the truth he carried. “i can’t say much being a trust fund baby with parents that neglects you.” you retorted as you gaze back at him.

“my life isn’t as perfect as you think it is.” the sun has now sunk behind the surrounding skyscrapers. the bridges that carry motorcycles, cars, and underground trains passing by make a beautiful silhouette. usually, by this time, you were supposed to be at home. but since your housekeepers help vouch for you and your parents are having a big board of directors meeting—usually takes hours to finish—they won’t snitch on you. they haven’t snitched on you even when you were with your friends playing in the arcade until midnight and later on.

jay drops his cigarette and puts it out with a step of his foot before you gaze at him, eyes looking all over his face that is illuminated by the streetlight behind you. the skaters dwindled in numbers as only a few people are on the slopes—the ones that are brave enough to trek the dark and uncertain curves with lights at the bottom.

“it’s getting late and tomorrow we have sch-“

“can we smoke a spliff?” you cut him off, pausing him before he looks at you with uncertainty in his eyes.

“are you sure?” he asked once again, hands already pulling the box where he puts it. you instinctively nod.

“i don’t want this to end yet,” you tell your sentiment as many thoughts have infiltrated your mind. maybe the buzz can help you calm down more. your eyes stick to the edge of the slope as you hear the flick and light coming from beside you. jay take in the newly lit spliff before giving it to you as you took one puff yourself. it circulates inside your mouth and the grass scent is catching you off guard before you let it out. it’s warm but you know you’re gonna get the buzz you’ve felt again.

your head seems heavy as you take a few more puffs of the roll, letting the quiet atmosphere calm you down. the drug urging you to speak anything that comes into your mind. “you know,” you straighten your sitting posture, “that time when you offer me your spliff, i haven’t actually smoked before…”

“the fuck?!” the boy exclaims, unhinged just like you do as you sense the buzz in your head pressing down the anxiety and fear that always culminate in your mind.

“yeah…” your words roll out. how your senses heightened as though you’re still sober but with how heavy your head is, you let it relaxes you.

“you were so good at it though,” he remarks as you let out a giggle.

“do i? to be honest, i’m just winging it back then. i didn’t understand shit.” your giggly reply makes him giggle too. seeing the white smoke floating and disperse into the darkening sky makes you stare at the buildings all around you. their illuminated windows resemble faux stars that decorate the night sky. you always like to stargaze, sitting on the sand of the beach as you stare at the stars from your position by the ocean waves. it is one of your favourite past times there and you always tell your aunt where your whereabouts will be and if she’ll be searching for you. the lights in seoul are too bright for you to stargaze, but you might as well cherish anytime you could get outside of your house, especially with people you are comfortable with. jay included.

“why weed? why not… pokemon trading cards for a business?” your ridiculous question earns a chuckle from both of you—your sober part now realizing how talkative and giggly you are under the influence. jay runs his tongue on his chapped lips as he peeks at you from the corner of his eyes. his foot fidgets with the skateboard under your feet, swaying from side to side.

“finding an opportunity in an almost empty market segment, you know?” you heard him use the business jargon your parents also use as you pursed your lips. holding back your laugh, he is the one that hooks you up to let it out. your head is lolling away from the times you take a hit from the blunt and you’ve also noticed how relaxed jay looked, he used to fidget all the time—playing with his fingers, playing with the tip of his toes inside his shoes, nibble on his bottom lip—but now with both of you under a much stronger influence, he seems decent enough and much more hyper about his sense.

taking the last hit for both of you as the flame consumes the rest of the joint, the grassy stench of the substance overwhelming your sense of smell, almost vegetable-like as you wave your hand to get rid of the surrounding scent. maybe you’re not thinking straight enough, but you reached for your bag and pull out your perfume: rose-scented that you’ve been wearing. though it smells heavy now, you found a lighter-smelling one back in brighton that makes you like the scent and you regretted not buying a bulk of it to bring here.

spraying it on your wrists and neck, you rub the spots as the aroma masks the one you’ve been smelling. you glance at the boy beside you who is also sniffing the air, a content smile on his face. hand instinctively pushes the item towards him. he looks down at it before looking at you give a smile. jay picks up the perfume and sprays it in the same spots as you did, rubbing them before giving it back to you.

“this is much better than the musk scent i usually wear,” he said as you let out a chuckle, a dry one to be in fact, which you follow with a cough. that’s when your nerves are aware of how dry your throat is. when you reached for your bottle, you were met with the lightweight material with only droplets inside.

“think i should head home. i’m freaking parched,” you told him as he covers his mouth before facing you and nods. when you stand up, you can now feel the weight that shows up from your head. but the evening gusts of wind help your eyes flutter open as you picked up the skateboard before something touches your elbow. jay holding you before you straighten yourself up.

“try riding it on the main path,” he comments as you stare at him with furrowed eyebrows, leaning in closer to him as you recognize your usual rose scent on him.

“are you fucking crazy? i’m not even great enough to skate and now you want me to do it high? freaking dammit jongseong.” you shake your head from his challenge as he then holds both of your shoulders, letting you settle down from your almost tamper tantrum.

“it’s the best feeling in the fucking world, (y/n). believe me.” jay stares right into your eyes. how the building lights behind you shine in them like it reflects stars. how big his pupil has gotten to resemble the night sky. he turns your body as you see white lights decorating under the bridge by the main path.

“that’s the convenience store. we’re gonna buy some stuff ‘cause i’m also getting hungry.” you poked your tongue inside your cheek as you glimpse at him. “you can do it. i believe in you.”

you let out a small, uncertain smile as you nod, letting yourself out of his grasp as you both walk towards the now emptier path. jay sets down his own skateboard as you fix the straps of your backpack. the figure of the boy dashes on the path as he stood on his board effortlessly. ‘fuck it‘ you said to yourself as you push the board like how jay teaches you, giving a few more pushes before putting both feet on the board as you tried to balance the best as you can so it goes on the straight line, eyes looking forwards rather than how your body moves as you let yourself adjust to the board that rolls beneath you.

the wind from the kinetic movement blows your hair as it flings from your face. you can be helped but to let a whoop from the air strike your skin, making you more alive and awake than ever. the figure before you now stand looking back towards you as you notice him laugh, letting you go past him as he follows you to the store.

arriving in the convenience store—putting your skateboards upright near the bicycle stands—you stroll around the shelves along with jay. going to the fridges and freezer as you pull out an ice cream and a bottle of cider before turning around to search for jay. his head pokes out from behind the shelves from his tall height as you find him with the cashier, looking at the reddish food in the warm display area.

“you want tteokbokki? my treat,” he said as he stares at you already with your cold items and him with a coloured soda in his hand. you hadn’t had street food in a while from how strict your food regimen is at home and the broth-full lunch at school. but the way the rice cakes rested inside that chill-powdered sauce, you could imagine adding cheese in there as saliva appears inside your mouth.

“buy a big one for both of us and also add cheese.” you turn to him as he lets out a wide smile.

“yes, ma’am,” he replies as he orders exactly that to the cashier attendant. both of you waited by the counter as you see the display behind the cashier for the adults, full of cigarettes and condoms. jay and you stood side by side as you both waited with the view. the awkward silence between the two of you makes you turn to face him. both of your minds seem to be telepathically linked as he turns to see you too. the white, almost blueish tint of the store illuminates his skin differently than the sun, colder. but the freckles on his cheeks stand out more. you can’t help—with the courage from your weightlessness of reality and consequences—to reach up and caress his cheek. his eyes enlarged as you turn your body to face him.

“your freckles are pretty.” you breathed out, perceiving how cold his skin is from your palm as you heat him up. seeing how at first he hesitates before leaning in fully into your warmth.

both of you sit at the table outside as you eat in silence, sharing the large plate of tteokbokki as you munch up your appetite. for all the moments you sat together, you both stayed silent, not commenting on what you did at the cashier. the warmth of the spicy rice cakes fills your stomach as the cold combats and helps with your dry oesophagus. your usual cat whisperer trait makes a couple of cats arrive and rub their head on your calves, pulling out the can from your bag as you marvel at yourself for at least giving out one for today—it didn’t feel right if you don’t.

for you, the high has died down significantly as you’re now in your usual quiet state, eating up your food as best as you can as you compare it with the tastes you’ve tried. you don’t know if buying it is the right call for eating spicy food but you were parched back then, and not sober.

“fuck, i can’t. tomorrow’s school again.” jay groans before he hisses, his lips swollen because of the spicy food. he looks up as only the broth of the tteokbokki is left on the plate. “i should bring you home…”

you shook your head and disagree with him as you left to pout. even if the high has died down, some leftovers of it are still left circulating as you mouthed, “i can go home by myself.”

“you probably still have the after-effect of being high and you’re going to be alone at fucking night, (y/n). please…” he grabs your hand that is still gripping the chopsticks, catching your attention as you stare right back at him. “let me take you home.”

indeed, he did as you stroll back home, the ice cream in your hands as jay holds the skateboard you used while his own is peeking out of his backpack. small talks were made between the two as you stroll in the night's dark sky. you wanted to tell him how you have been going home late at night, especially if you hang out with your girls-around a month ago you did just that as you all played in the arcade until midnight and more. but seeing his concern for you made your heart flutter, and by hanging out with him, you now understand how much of a stubborn person he is—dragging you in one way and another as he trained you to learn how to skate. as you walked by the neighbourhoods, you can still see people roaming around to enjoy the nightlife. not as late as when you’re in that arcade playing the hammer machine, competing to get as highest of scores as you can between the four of you.

“you’re not as cranky as i thought.”

jay turns his head towards you as you felt the ice cream melt in your mouth, nibbling on the little spoon as he raised his eyebrows.

“heeseung told me something about you and sunghoon.” you heard him scoff as you mention his friends’ names, looking forward at the expanding pavement in front of you both.

“oh he’s…” he lets out a sigh before continuing. “hoon is pursuing so many girls at once he makes me have to work double to manage, pack, and deliver the goods.” jay brushes his fallen hair to the back as you continue to step into the night together.

“he’s an interesting character to know. nice guy but he likes his dick wet a lot so… i kinda see how hee said i’m cranky.”

“yeah, notice your eyebags are a bit swollen. sunghoon’s a fucking wanker…” you exhale towards his friend as he laughs because of it.

“i expect it to happen—his room is beside mine after all. but i didn’t expect he could even fuck for more than thrice a week.”

“that is dodgy as heck. is that your spliff’s side effect?” you chuckle as he gives you a side eye before rolling his eyes, seeing it as an answer to your carefree question.

both of you walk and you enter a more secluded neighbourhood. houses covered by high and thick walls as you climb the stairs on the pavement from the sloping terrain. you gaze at jay, seeing his eyes wandering around the houses that differ greatly from the apartment complex. the steps slow down as you near a wooden gate, the white lights of the exterior illuminate the house in a colder manner rather than your neighbours with their yellow bulbs. you hummed as you titled your head, letting him know this is your stop.

“thank you for today. though i’ve been such a crap.” you lean against the wooden gate as he shakes his head.

“no, i’m proud of you, really,” he replied as you put your hand where your heart is. you turn to your phone and text one housekeeper you trust as you don’t want to ring the bell and tell your parents of your whereabouts tonight—if they’re home. the light shines on your face as you write the words in and send it, quickly glancing towards jay who hasn’t left yet. you see his mouth open as he speaks.

“i… do you wanna do this again? you could get used to the skateboard then we can hang out at some places. maybe i could introduce you to my friends, even ask your friends too to hang out with us. i mean, you seem to be pretty friendly with hee’s girl back in my fla-“

you lean in and press your lips on his cheek, stopping his continuous tangent as the number of words faded out. leaning back, the corner of jay’s lips rises as your eyes flutter. “i would like to.”

the sound of the gate opening catches you off-guard as you step back to the small door the housekeeper has unlocked. jay’s eyes still gaze at your retreating figure as you hold on to the gate.

“i’ll reach out. good night, jongseong.” your lips pouted as you step to the other side when you hear a faint “good night” from the boy outside. the housekeeper looks at you with a knowing gaze as you both retreat to the mansion, listening to the sound of wheels rolling down the asphalt road down the slope.

-

if one can take a glimpse at jay’s eyes, one could see them sparkle; resemble fireworks. jay stares at the last message bubbles that happened between him and you in class, trying to suppress his smile as best as he can to preserve his appearance, but he knows he can’t hold it together especially since his lips are trembling to not form a smile. hee’s girl is the one that notices it first, sitting down with the exhausted taehyun—his face laying at the desk—right beside her, but she said nothing so that sunghoon could realize something.

“woah, jjong. you’ve been staring at your phone for minutes now.” his best friend said, the boy himself not exactly caring about it as he continue to scroll down the chat before returning it to the Instagram profile you gave him of your own. one that is full of cats and aesthetically no face pics of you and your friends.

“who’s that, huh?” jay sensed his friend nudges his shoulder, making him roll his eyes.

“none of your freaking business.”

“of course, it is my business, jjong. you wearing heart eyes? looking at someone’s profile? scrolling back and forth between your chats? bro…” he can feel sunghoon’s presence closer to him. “tell me who this lucky person is.”

jay side-eyes his friend who is wearing a sheepish smile. he clicked his tongue as he turn his head towards his seatmate, “a girl i’ve been seeing-“

“oh fuck, i knew it,” he exclaimed as quietly as he can, not wanting the teacher to catch him cursing in class. sunghoon lightly slap his palm on jay’s forearm as said boy looks at his friend offendedly. “that’s why you’ve been out more, but without me.”

“yeah, right. you’ve been hooking up with girls left and right. how am i supposed to go out with you, dickhead?” jay stated the obvious before he recollected his mind on what sunghoon is saying. yes, his best friend is right. he has gone out more and it’s because of you.

most of the time you both hung out by han river. him lending you his skateboard as you better your skill in riding it—how he remembered pushing you on it with his hands on your waist. as you get better and better, with a fair share of injuries from falling as he and you tried a few kick tricks which results in you punching his biceps, he can now proudly say you’ve become an excellent skater. you told him you won’t do anything on the slopes and instead, you voice out that you try to cruise down the paths more, taking in the city's view, the flowing water, and the sky above together.

in the three times, other than the first one, that he skates with you, he has brought a few of his friends and met with your friends too. taehyun also likes to skate from time to time—what jay likes to say is “his skate buddy”—if he isn’t busy enough with editing videos, and jake asks to come with him to relax himself before his next matches after having a two-time winning streak. that day, your friends insert themselves into your hangout as they’ve been curious about who this guy their friend is meeting, resulting in the two groups meeting. jay still remembers how jake and lily talking to one another strengthen each other’s accents that make none of you can fully understand what they’re talking about.

other than skating, he also is with you to give out food for neighborhood cats, playing with them if you both have time. one cat stuck in his mind though, a tabby kitten that likes to ride on his skateboard as he plays with him like a baby of his own. he still couldn’t help but sneeze if he stayed too long with the felines, their fur itching his nose. but he tried his best to cover his nose and maybe stay away from them enough just to be with you. now and then, you like to associate him with a cat.

“sometimes grumpy. sometimes menacing. but cute.“

“did you just say i’m cute?” jay replied as he can see the look of realization on your face. he calls your name before he shakes your torso lightly for your answer, only replying with giggles.

yeah, he couldn’t help about his selective hearing when he heard you indirectly compliment him. you have an intimidating demeanor from your first impression, as if you’re coming from addams family but not as macabre. mysterious and obscurity oozes from you, but he is glad you let him in that fog of yours.

“so which school is your lucky girl from?” sunghoon asked, his head still too close for comfort as he infiltrates to scroll up and down your instagram profile. he will thank you for making yourself as obscure as ever on the internet. but he knows his boy won’t give up without an answer or a fight. a “cocky wanker” as what you like to name him. not going to lie, it makes him giggle every single time he overheard it.

“levant.”

“what the- jjong!” sunghoon whispered loudly into his ear. jay’s instinct instantly reacts to his seatmate, leaning away and covering his ear. his seatmate grabs and pulls him in though, head looking everywhere to check if the teacher notices anything. “this is fucking scandalous. no other student here has pursued a levant kid since beomgyu hook up with-“

“i know. this is gonna be a romeo and juliet type of beat. but, hoon…” jay’s shoulder hunches down as he looks at his best friend, not believing what he’ll say to him. “i genuinely like her…”

“bruh, even i’m not brave enough to hook up with a levant girl, man.”

“of course, you only wanna hook up with the popular ones. and please, it’s not like i haven’t seen someone on decelis not having friends with someone in levant. if you helped me deliver to that school more, you could find people in our uniforms too,” jay argues back as sunghoon stops with a stunned look on his face. his phone vibrates just in time as he sees the notification on it.

(y/n): could we meet up today after school? it’s friday after all

“(y/n), huh? seems familiar…” sunghoon whispered beside him as jay picked up the phone and open it. the blinking line in the text box is waiting for his answer. he had a few more stuff to deliver as he had told sunghoon before about his order notes—jay is the bookkeeper for all this—but he deep down knows he’ll be the one to send them as sunghoon probably has a plan to do something with someone today. that’s when a hand perched on his shoulder as he peeks to spot sunghoon in his resting face, thinking to find the right words.

“i’ll do the delivery today. it’s gonna be bad for business if you’re the only one doing so.” sunghoon lets out a small smirk as jay’s eyes squint at him. “bro. my dick will fucking break if i hook up all the time. i’m not a fucking addict.”

“sure…” jay replied whilst chuckling as he stares at the screen before he replies.

coming out of the school, he went his way to the meeting place that he picked with sunoo—the boy’s best friend has something to do after school, so she left him alone. sunoo and jay walk quietly together as they’re both heading the same way.

“it’s weird to not see you with your friend,” jay commented as sunoo nods his head, knowing the sentiment. though sunoo looks soft compared to him, he is very compassionate, especially in his acting role. jay always assume that he would rather see sunoo star in the film club productions than beomgyu all the time. but, he doesn’t want to be biased about it as both of them are his friends. yet, as of recently, beomgyu has been straying more and more now. but he hasn’t thought about it much because he is getting more concerned about how much his order has been increasing since the day of the match. heeseung said that the choi household has family problems, and that’s why beomgyu’s sister has been hanging out at their flat more.

“yeah. she has an appointment with the doctor. something about her allergies making her skin itch, so she wants to get prescribed a lotion to help combat it.” jay hums from the answer as he looks at the boy’s thick paper in his hands.

“new script?”

“revision actually. the scriptwriter made some changes on how the two mains are going to do in their resolution scene.” sunoo replied, “we’re doing a coming-of-age movie a la perks of being a wallflower.“

“nice, can’t wait to watch it,” jay replied as sunoo lets out a tight-lip smile at him, his fingers twitching behind the script he is holding. when they arrive at an intersection with a corner store, sunoo stops as he said his farewells, wanting to grab something to snack on as he’ll memorize his lines. jay couldn’t hold on to his skateboard much longer and when he sees his friend entering the store, he immediately drops it down—gently, of course—before rolling away on the sidewalk. people avoiding him and he tried his best to avoid stationary people too.

after a few blocks, he used his foot to graze the concrete sidewalk as he sees the cafe he went to with sunoo, kai, and taehyun for doing homework together. their usual cafe, cafe 95. as he steps in, he could see a few people in the seats and the barista, a schoolmate of his in the same year, behind the bar with her boss, taehyung beside her. jay didn’t find your face in the crowd and also none of his friends was in any seat.

“jay park.” someone calls him from behind the counter. he sees taehyung man the cashier where the girl is off doing someone’s order.

“hey! iced americano as usual. take away for today.” jay replied as he pulled the right amount of cash out of his wallet before he then caught a bell ringing behind him. he usually isn’t one to turn around, but he is waiting for somebody to show up. and his worry fades away as he sees the dark blue blazer of a certain school before looking up at your face. taehyung has stepped away to do his order as he sees you approaching him by the cashier. you give him a small wave as you look at the cafe, enjoying the vibe that it gives out.

jay sees you standing right beside him, how your blazers touch each other’s, as his schoolmate comes and waits for your order. jay was looking away from his phone as he waits for you when he caught the quiet voices of the barista. combining it with your silent guise, he thinks you were still ordering. jay felt a tug on his sleeve as he looks to see your hand pulling him to the counter where you take your order.

“you ordered?” his eyebrows rise as he sees you giving him a thumbs up. he didn’t even hear what you were ordering, but you were staring at his schoolmate who is doing your order.

“how did you two communicate?” jay looks between you and the barista, bewildered. he genuinely thinks you were confused about what to order—maybe wanting him to help you order because it is his usual place.

“we just… did…” you replied in a small voice, seeing you smiling at his schoolmate who is mixing your drink, staring back at you. taehyung puts his order on the counter as he waits for your order to finish, staring at the vacant poster for a part-time barista position for the afternoon and evening. you were holding onto a plastic bag full of cat food once again as he reaches out to help you carry it.

you turn towards him shaking your head, “you have your skateboard. i don’t want to burden you.”

jay retreats to his standing position as your order arrives, seeing his schoolmate giving a warm smile and a “thank you” which you replied with your own before both of you walk out to go to your usual hang-out place: the seats near the skate park. as you both walk down the street, jay sees the variety of uniforms that he knows of the high schools in around this general area of seoul. the biggest four are decelis, levant, yanggun, and kosmo with each of their signature colors. they mingle with one another as if all the so-called rivalries are just that, a rivalry. all schools are ambitious in their own way, but in his eyes, it’s more of a friendly rivalry than the ones that could cost life or death. if sunghoon is with him right now, he could show him this street full of yanggun students mingling with decelis and more to him.

while he was thinking about ways to show his best friend is wrong, he didn’t see your solemn face.

the walk felt more quiet than usual as he settles all his belongings down by the seats, putting his coffee on the table as you sit across from him, sipping the beverage you order. your lips formed a straight line as you stare at the table before looking at the person on the other side of it. jay observed it all, how you cast your eyesight downwards, your newly painted black nail already looking as if you’ve chipped it off, and how your blazer is hanging on your shoulder; one pull and it falls down your arm.

“i…” you sigh before looking up at him. “i should explain to you that if you want me for my money and prestige, then i can’t give any to you.”

what?

“what-“

“no, hush.” you shush him directly as you let out a huge exhale. “since my parents are busy with whatever they have, my sister and i have got the home by ourselves. sure, it seems like a good thing, right? well, almost every single crappy day, somi invited her friends over, cheer friends, another popular crowd, and boys she’s hooking up with. new person each and every day.” you let out a chuckle.

“me?” you pointed to yourself. “nothing, my parents give me no permission to invite someone over. none of my three friends, heck my sister’s having a freaking party at our house cause they allowed her to.” you rubbed your hands on your face. jay can’t help but remember you sitting at that bench, body hunching as your shoulders shook, muffled sniffles coming from your end. he sees you shaking your head as you let your covered mouth speak.

“all because they see us from the intercom. me coming home at night. that night when you brought me home for the first time.”

jay noticed the intercom at the wall beside the wooden gate of your house, but both of you failed to notice that the camera is on. he recalls how you kiss his cheek and the rest two times he brought you home at night, all of those three times he brought you home. none of them includes pressing any bell button on the intercom.

“you’re the only one that i know who gets my problem. no matter if i’m old money and you’re new, i trust you for this because my parents hate decelis high as they’re levant alumni so they don’t have any connection to you in any way i can think of.”

and with that, your venting session begins. it surprised him to see how such a quiet persona can let out fiery and spicy comments. how burned up you felt from what you called “being the spare”, how you’re not allowed to be involved in your family business. how because of the clear succession plan for the company that is somi and her future contribution, they don’t consider you as any necessary part of the clockwork. how they send you to brighton to then bring you back for no clear reason. how you rather stayed in the UK instead of here. no matter how little the stake your problem is against the world—the stake that is so minuscule yet can be wildly catastrophic if not handled right because of your ties with your family name and brand—he resonates with it a lot. sure, he is continuing what his dad has made, but the way they shaped him up to be like him is a lot like how your family runs things. yet, a small comment from you stuck in his mind.

“if they’re treating me like this, why would they have me in the first place?”

the anxiousness that he can sense beneath that mysterious exterior finally shows itself to him. he understands now why no one other than levant high students knew of your well-being, especially with a popular sister and a conglomerate family. jay now knows why you rather speak with voiceless words and body language. they taught you to be subdued and when you mention your uncle back brighton, jay guessed that he was taught the same thing too. how your opinion doesn’t worth it.

but it all comes back to tradition. family, school, and society.

as he sits there and listens, he sees you broke down right before him. back in your second encounter, his want to comfort comes from a place of intrigue. but now, his comfort comes from affection. how when you shed your first tears, he jumped up from his chair and put himself right beside you, hugging you from the side. jay didn’t care if his blazer got all dirty from your tears and he have to laundry it again, he does it because he cares for you.

because he likes you.

“about your first words to me…” you lean back as he looks down at your bloodshot eyes.

“i don’t want you because of your conglomerate family, your name, any of that. i have those myself. too” his words caused you to roll your eyes. ‘anything is better rather than you shedding more tears.‘

“remember what i said back in that alley with that mom cat and her kittens…” jay reaches and brush your tears with the end of his blazer as you calm your breathing. “how intrigued i am with your quiet demeanor, your priority to give cat’s food, your rose scent that sticks in my mind.”

he crouches down so that your eye line can see right in his, and both of your upper arms are held by him. “i like you because you’re you. i like it if you rather be you than what other people perceive you as. i like the banter we have and any words i like from you that are inserted into my personal dictionary.”

“you like me?” he sees you mouth to him as he lets out an exasperated sigh, seeing you giggle as you sniff back any leftovers from crying. jay bit his lips before he replied with a nod, letting you point to yourself to then towards his chest.

“me to you back,” you whisper as you let out a small snicker before turning your body to face him.

he couldn’t believe how relaxed you look after he confesses and you reciprocate it back. but knowing you, he can sense your palpitations like his own when you return to your drink. your head lifted from your drink as you felt your blazer move from its position, turning your head to see jay pulling it off and folding it to put it inside your backpack as he does it to himself leaving both of your upper body with the long-sleeved white shirt as it outermost layer.

“no attribute that easily identifies your school when we were together.” he reminds you of the rule you both set up. outside of school grounds, outside of uniform, you and i.

you wiped your tears away as you nodded your hand, picked up your backpack, and slung it behind you as you outstretch your hand. jay smirks as he tidies his stuff before putting his hand on yours, pulling you away from the seats in the afternoon sun.

both of you did almost anything you could and always do when you both were together, exchanging his skateboard for both of you to ride, travelling to the nooks and crannies of the city where the dwellers aka cats live, even meeting up with the tabby kitten that left an impression on jay. you both wander to the arcade that he saw you in with your friends, coming across a decelis high student that jay greets as another one of his schoolmates that he knows is going to be a part of the student council replacing heeseung and his cabinet friends. trying to beat one another on a punching game before you both got frustrated on the claw machine—you pull out the last coin you got before giving a kiss and plunging it in for his attempt and when he caught one, he promptly hugs you and exclaimed loudly that you have to cover his mouth. even as the night is getting dark you both continue, flinging from store to store window shopping—jay realizing how you don’t really notice how he uses the high-end brands for his style, to even trying out more street food you haven’t tried before.

as the clock goes near 11 pm most of the stores near where you are closing and he dares you to cruise down the empty street, to which you agree. only the streetlights illuminate the two of you as you tried your best to obscure from crowded places; rather than spending time with the two of you alone. jay sense his energy slowly depleting as he lies down on the one-lane road you both have stayed in, noting the cold night being absorbed into the asphalt before sending cold yet refreshing shocks to his sweaty body, feeling the fabric sticking to his skin. he heard ruffles from beside him as you kneel and then follow him laying down by the street.

“no worries. this street is always empty at night causes the only access to this road is leading is small office buildings.” he reassured you, turning his head to face you laying beside him. “i’ve raced here with taehyun, kai, beomgyu, and sunghoon for a bet on paying the entire gang for eating in a new fried chicken restaurant. sunghoon lost the bet so…”

“yeah?” you turned your head to face him before you lay on your side. the combination of the streetlight and the moon shines on you as if you are sleeping in a forest, well, a concrete-made forest of nighttime seoul. the light shines on your cheek and glistens into the eye facing upwards. even in the dark, he can see the warmth from your gaze. the bloodshot eyes are gone for now as it heals.

he sees you scoot closer before your hand reaches for him, his face, cupping it lightly and softly before you lean down, letting your lips meet his. jay regretted not bringing his lip balm cause he can feel how chapped his lips are comparing to yours. that is before he felt your tongue caressing his bottom lip even with his eyes closed. he pulls you close as he used his strength to sit both of you up, letting him cup your jaw as he tilts his head. you were the one that lean back first, sensing your nose tip against his own.

“can i smoke spliff in your apartment and stay the night? don’t want to go to a bloody party,” you whispered, eyes staying on his. a sparkle reflecting on it from the streetlights.

“of course, you can.” he erects from the floor before he picks you up bringing you to his flat. the walk was quiet in the surrounding environment but warm for the two of you. hands interlocking with each other, jay carries his skateboard in his other hand. sometimes lifting your connected hands to give the back of your palm as the wind blows the two of you, realizing how long the day has been where events happened so much that gives trial and tribulations for both of you mentally and emotionally.

opening the door with the code, he is met with the shine from the various lamps that are turned on to stay alight for the night. by the looks of the shoes, heeseung has his girlfriend here and sunghoon is at home; weird. jay is embarrassed to bring you into his man cave, but you were looking at it in awe. posters of musicians right beside his wardrobe, a perfect set-up for his area with two monitors. stickers on his desk and his bedframe and a picture of a forest illustration that has the words washington, US, on it.

“let me grab you something you could wear so you can wash up.” you nod your head as he gives you the clothes he found in his wardrobe, pointing towards the door of the bathroom. when the door of the bathroom closes, he returns to the room as he tidies up your stuff, and pulls out your blazer before putting it on a hanger.

“yo, jay!”

said the boy fucking jumps as he sees his best friend peek into his room. “for fuck's sake, hoon, what the fuck?”

“geez… just wanting to ask you who’s in the bathroom cause hee’s probably in his mama bear arc and not wanting anyone to wake his girlfriend up again.” sunghoon steps inside the room wearing a sleeveless t-shirt, readying to tackle the nightlife. jay thought his nightlight is enough to not let him notice his surrounding in a scrutinizing way. that is before he stood by the blazer hanging by the wardrobe.

“(l/n) (y/n)? wait, jjong?!” sunghoon turns towards him with a smirk on his face.

“doing it in fucking uniform, huh? my boy has grown up-“

“we didn’t do what you picturing and i’m fucking older than you. what do you mean?” jay retaliates as he sees the mischievous gaze in his friend’s eyes.

“by 8 months, by the way. so because she’s in the bathroom, i should probably see the mysterious girl you’re hiding from me in 3… 2...”

“um…” both of the boys turn to see you, towel around your shoulder as you wear jay’s clothes. the boy sees his friend’s lips lifting as he glances at you. jay can’t help to roll his eyes at how sunghoon is approaching you, curiosity in his eyes.

“(y/n), right? the name is sunghoon.” he sees sunghoon greets you with shaking hands and a wink. while you squint your eyes as he analyzes your face.

“hey, hey. no. not my girl.” jay approaches and grabs you, putting himself in front of you. sunghoon’s eyes squint as he stares at both of you, no look of recognition in his eyes on who you are now.

“wow, your girl, huh? okay.” sunghoon playfully retreats. “all of today’s orders are done but i want you to be my wingman and scavenge partner so i could get laid.”

“i know a party.” you mumbled from behind jay’s shoulder. “there’s a party right in the rich neighborhood area. if you know (l/n) somi before, there is a party at her house right now.” jay turns his head to glance at you, eyebrows lifted. “got the news from another levant student.” you tried to twist as best as you can.

“hmm, smart girl. great inspection. and sure thing i’ll do that.” sunghoon walks past the both of you as jay steps to the door.

“don’t forget a condom, jjong.”

“shut the fuck up,” jay replied as he heard the front door close, turning back towards you as he shook his head before pointing at his sleepwear in his bathroom. you give him a nod as you settle down on his chair, waiting for the boy to return.

after it, his room window opens, jay brought an ashtray out to put in between the two of you. usually, he already has the joints rolled and ready to go, but for today, he lets you try the fresh ones he has picked. you sat with your knees in front of you, staring at how he is rolling the paper with the grass inside before licking the end with saliva, seeing bulge from how many of them inside.

“one each is enough because we always shared ours,” he said as he give one to you and lit up a lighter, letting both of your blunts burn at the ashy scent lets you burn.

smoke flies in the room before being blown out outside the window as you both smoke each joint at your own pace. jay noticed your head on his shoulder as both of you share a joke. how your giggles make his heart flutter more, which makes him gaze at you with hooded eyes. chill, ambient music playing from the speaker of his computer as you picked yourself up from beside him, scooting yourself closer as you take another hit of your shortening joint. sit cross-legged in front of each other, jay watches how the weight has lifted off of you, your pupils blown out as you stare at his, knees touching as he moves closer while tapping the joint to the ashtray, letting the ash fall.

“it’s nice,” you mumbled, eyes gazing down on the messy sheet from where you both sat and lay down. jay hums before you continue.

“quiet. letting go of reality. brushing away any problems.” you talk slowly, the smoke leaving your mouth after you take another puff. “i never felt the way i felt with you before.”

jay straightens up as he sees you reach for your eyebags with your forefinger, brushing away a tear that you left out. he caught your glistening eyes before he brought you into his embrace, letting your face rest on his chest as he took another hit of the burning stick. your body trembles beneath his touch as he can only soothes you with his hand caressing down your back. all of him is warm, from the drug circulating in his body to the way your hand rests on his shoulder blades. jay kisses your head as the grass stench now makes the usual rose you wear faded away.

from where he sat, he can see the backpack you brought to school, watching the small cat plushie keychain that you told him from kiki’s delivery service as it rests against the patterned backpack. he recognizes how much you love cats and he understands why you rather use your pocket money to give to them. how you told him a story about an incident on the road that happened before you move away with your parents, a dead kitten at the side of the road because of them, and how they blatantly ignore it even if your chauffeur wanted to help at least burying the kitten.

“that’s why you care for cats.”

you nodded as you gaze at the skaters, “i see myself in that kitten. at that young age, i knew they didn’t love me as much as my older sister. how they want to hide me at somi’s birthday party when mine isn’t as lavish as hers, then when they send me away, i was too young to not push myself to ask why. as if i was being sent on a pilgrimage on their behalf.”

“i strive to care for stray cats because i could care for them, unlike how my parents are ignorant to me… well…” you lean forwards towards him.

“i’m like that stray cat. you are too, my friends and yours could be counted also. we’re dirty because of the environment we are in and we try our best to survive, jongseong.” jay looks at your flattened face as his brain runs with your metaphor, and how right it can be. “now you know why stray cats like to huddle with each other, right? cause they need a pack to help them survive.”

jay was looking at you in a daze when he didn’t realize you lift your head to face him. your fingers reach for his sharp face as his eyes move to meet you. your other hand putting the joint in the ashtray as he felt his own remove from between his fingers. even with your hooded eyes and dried streaks of tears, you still look as beautiful as ever.

he embraces your cheeks with both of his hands, meeting his lips with yours. the moisture coming from your kiss is getting more prominent as both of you made a mess, letting your tongue battle with each other as you both help each other with your appetite. it is past midnight, and he doesn’t want to bother heeseung in the room even if he’s two doors down, especially with his recovering insomniac girlfriend making him more sensitive to not waking her up.

his hands travel down your back, both heads tilted opposite ways to capture each other deeper, as he pushes you onto his lap before he lies on his back—you on top of him. your fingers are gripping his white t-shirt as he can sense your skin from your own rising on your back. you sighed as his palm met your skin, letting your head lift as he catches a string of saliva between the two of you.

“i never felt the way i felt with you, too,” jay replied with your own words as your high self let out snickers before embracing him back, enjoying how his hand trails up your side as you brought yours to his nape, letting you know how much he is down for you as the flame that burns your joints died down in that ashtray, only leaving the gray matter as your hand reaches for his shirt, lifting it up.

-

you brush your hair away from the mess it gets from being tangled. the morning breeze brushes your legs from yesterday’s uniform skirt you are still wearing. the sun is hiding behind the white clouds as you stepped out into the city early enough to only see people working out—jogging and cycling—on the streets. the blazer that hangs on your torso is thick enough to embrace you in the cloudy weather. you don’t know what you expect when you return home, a messy one or one that is as clean as new?

when you brought yourself out of jay’s embrace and duvet, you find yourself in his shorts and your bra—turning around to find him also shirtless. none of the roommates has woken up as you trek to their shared bathroom, smelling the smell associated with boys from the body sprays and deodorants they have strewn around. your eyes glance at the dark marks on your collarbones and on the skin exposed above your bra, making out until you both got too tired and let sleep consumes you. you recall how you move the ashtray to his bedside table as you bring yourself off of his lap, feeling his skin on yours. you quickly brush your face with cold water, waking yourself up as best as you sense the dryness of your oesophagus.

stepping back into his room, he is still fast asleep facing the open window of the apartment, the chirping birds’ voice coming inside as the computer that played music is in rest mode. you quickly change yourself back into your uniform-even with the blazer that you found hanging by the wardrobe as you heard vibration on a desk. walking up to it, text notifications showed up on what appeared to be jay’s phone.

hoon missed call (5)

hoon: we got an nooise complanann so the partys fauskcing cnaecl.

hoon: shit fuckk ur not answeringn.

hoon: iim crashiinng at sunooo

mom: hey honey, just wanted to remind you that we’ll arrive in korea today. see you in 12 hours. love you, jongseong.

you stepped away from the phone as you catch a groan coming from the boy, stretching out his hands from under his duvet. you reached his side of the bed, giving a peck at his exposed cheek.

“i’ll reach out to you soon,” you whispered in his ear before you grab your stuff and return to your home of a mansion.

even with the text sunghoon wrote—which you can deduct by reading carefully—you expected little that your house tidied up. that is when you’re met with the house as clean as ever. the housekeeper brushing away the wall with soap water as if the leftover of the party is still staining there. when they see you, you notice how spooked they are as you approach, entering the gate when you find out the car park has one more vehicle in place than when you left it.

you gulped as you see the housekeepers around you looking at you, the security guards, and gardeners, all of them pausing in various amounts of time to stare at you, the same look of spooked with a hint of tiredness in their eyes. sighs coming out from you—trying to think as clearly as possible—before you brace yourself and step towards the front door. you knew even if you stepped inside; you’ll be meeting them, especially since your dad needs his caffeine intake as early as this hour. stepping out of the shoes, you held onto your backpack straps as you let your slippery socks let you slide into the room, already feeling the harsh reality coming back when you not only found dad drinking his cup of coffee but also your mom and your sister beside her.

all of their eyes are on you as both of your parents view you with disappointment and disgrace, while somi has an expression of guilt hidden beneath her tired eyes. you hold yourself up with sparks forming in your gaze, teeth-gritting each other as you can guess the conversation you’ll be having based on the historical actions you’ve done to this family and what this family have done to you.

“(y/n). come sit here.” your mom said as you took a step, one by one, to reach the chair she pointed; sitting opposite the two women while dad is at the head of the table. somi’s eyes drift at your figure, her blonde hair looks as dishevelled as ever, but no trace of the party she did last night evidently on her. like the true good kid she is.

“four times. four times and maybe more that we didn’t catch, (y/n).” your mom starts as you gaze down at the dining table. the ice-cold—even your sister also shows one—gazes are stinging you more than the flame inside you, biting in small yet sharp nips as you let them continue. you’ve always stayed silent to them and they feared you for that, but with how your mom continues to scold you, you realize that they’re turning your quiet demeanour into an acceptance—how your silence changes its status to no permission to judge—letting her continue to tell you anything wrong with you, how disrespectful you’ve gotten, and much, much more.

but it brought the anxiety that sits within you up as a shield. your vision and mind haze in an uncertain fog as you try your best to block it; freezing yourself up. everything is running through your mind so fast that you don’t have enough time to analyze anything, but you know that your anxiousness to speak out is why she continues, even with your dad giving in to spoke little comments or adding to your mom’s argument. your eyes gaze on your sister’s as you see her eyebrows furrowed, nostrils flaring as you only see her concern right now. where has she been, huh? you wanted to exclaim.

the way your parents are continuing to berate you makes you stare at your sister and see her with her friends doing the same way with your schoolmate and juniors. your heart beats rapidly when you found out that you’re a pawn in their game.

“you wanted to know why. right? you’re going to be somi’s right-hand woman as chief operating officer. you’ll have a board seat along with her and us as you then going to take care of the new start-ups we required.” start-ups that even you identify aren’t profitable with the little economic lesson you got in the classroom and on the internet. even with the way they mention them, somi looks at them with her unreadable expression to others but you learned, even with that small glimpse, she’s jealous you still got to do something even on a known sinking armada of companies. you don’t know what your parents have gotten you into as all the power-hungry sides come out from behind the masks. now you can recognize the ice-cold gaze somi has before returning to concern: they were teaching her you’re her competition, not her sister.

they’re manipulating her as much as they manipulate you. as much as your grandpa manipulates your uncle. survival of the fittest.

but you don’t want to be subdued like your uncle is. even if he is not involved, he is still smart enough to tell you the horrible telltales from it. you had no choice but to voice out because you’re getting dizzy for not letting the fire out.

“ENOUGH!”

your parents and sister all looked at you aghast. the housekeepers inside the room are also shocked as they look your way. your chair is pushed back from how quick and powerful your stance is, standing up with your hands on the table.

“you are vile. all of you are vile, power-hungry, monsters. i see now that you’re making me your pawn and puppet, just how somi is being taught now.” somi looks at you, eyes widen as she heard you speak now after only replying in short answers all the time. her hands are now rubbing against each other as you held on.

“if you think that i’m the naughty one within this bunch, haven’t you thought about your favourite kid, huh? her constant partying, inviting “friends” over which she hooks up. even last night, she had this fucking party you don’t know that even the police got involved." you let out a villainous smile. you now learned you are that in their eyes. “but you didn’t care. you didn’t care shit about the troubles your successor has done, cause you rather heckle me.”

“(l/n) (y/n)!” your dad spokes scarily, trying to deter you, which he now knows is failing as you stare at him as menacingly as possible. like a tiger chasing after its prey while also fighting another species that is trying to get to it first.

“you don’t fucking care about me. you’re trying to set somi against me and ruin this fucking family, just like how grandpa is ruining it for you and your brother. but now i see it, dad. i realize how you treat me like a spare.” you let out words you’ve been internalizing for a while, your throat slowly getting hoarse as you realized you haven’t eaten or drunk anything since you left jay’s apartment.

“okay, that’s it.” your mom now stand up as somi is looking at the giants in front of her, fury rushes between each of her family when she looks at you and sees how your body is shuddering, eyes looking straight at your mom, and how dry your lips are.

“you have two choices, (y/n).” your mom stares at your dad as if they have been planning for this for a long time. a smirk between the two of them that disgust you so much before she looks back at you. “one. you’ll stay here. we shaped you into an amazing entrepreneur who will follow in your dad’s and grandpa’s footsteps as president along with your sister as ceo. you still live in this house, gaining every inch of luxury and privilege you can get.”

“or two. you’ll leave and start from zero. we will pay the tuition for you until this semester and then the only asset you get from us is from your trust fund, which is enough for you to live by, but we could remove you anytime. find where you live by yourself and no luxuries from this household, including bringing a housekeeper. no joining company parties. no connection to the family whatsoever under business pretences.” your mom speaks as confidently as possible, believing you stay with them because of how quiet equals “carelessness” from every consequence around you. a smile is forming internally as you know the best option you picked. you let out a calming sigh to yourself.

“i’ll leave.” your mom’s smile fades as she returns to look at your dad. “you never even cared for me, anyway. but if you think that you’re going to rid me of the trust fund, just so you know i still have people at my side.” your eyes landed on your sister who has been quiet the whole time. “even your successor.”

you give a tiny nod before getting rid of yourself from the table as you return to your room. pulling out the suitcases and bags you get, you open your wardrobe one by one, not minding to let your room door close before you see one of the housekeepers enters and goes to the stuff you’ve put on top of your mattress, looking at the door to find a few more standing by your door.

“let us help, miss.” you give her a nod as a few others step in and help you clean up, only pulling the things that you needed clothes, undergarments, toiletries, your stationeries, and a few of your memorable items such as your favourite toys—especially the kitten cuddly toy you got with your friends from the claw machine. your room is being ransacked and packed into bags as you finish a phone call when you turn to see somi leaning against your doorframe. you give the housekeepers a nod as you let them do their job while bringing yourself to face your sister. you recognize how grimy your body is, but you couldn’t care less because you rather leave as soon as possible.

your gaze at your sister makes her openly cower before she said, “i’m sorry. i’m sorry for making you feel this way. i’m sorry for being mom and dad’s favourite child. i’m sorry for not defending you, i’m-“

“hey.” you stopped her as your hand embraces one of hers. her blonde hair looks puffy as if she had it tied from last night’s party. “i forgive you. but i will not forgive our parents for what they’ve done to me any time soon. how labile they are for their choices about me and everything surrounding us. how they don’t feel any wrong about pitting their daughters against each other. but i know…” your eyebrows furrowed as you stare at her.

“i know that you’re feeling as anxious as i especially when facing them. and it’s normal. i guess this could be a wake-up call for them as much as it is a wake-up call for you.” you pat her hands as you give a small smile.

“you know what? fuck them, right? we don’t want to be born like so let us just start all o-“

“you’re being impulsive, somi.” you stopped your sister as your eyes gaze at her, shaking your head. “i rather you stay. they love you enough and you’ve been shaped to be one of the most powerful women in the media in the future. don’t waste all of that for me.” somi’s eyes have water in them as you tried your best to hold it in because as much as you want to break down in front of her, you still don’t trust her.

“you’re going to be my woman from the inside, okay? take care of our parents for me.” you rub your sister’s upper arm before she brings you into a hug, a crushing hug that brought you back to when both of you were kids. both of you were too innocent for the machiavellian family and world you were born in. somi’s sobs muffled by your shoulder as you can’t help but let out a tear before you wipe it away. leaning back, you see your sister let out a small smile.

“i’m gonna miss you.”

“i’m still in the same school as you, aren't i? we can meet at school,” you replied, making her let out a chuckle.

she nods her head as you turn to see a housekeeper telling you they’re done with their work. you tell them to bring it to the carpark and give them a small “thank you.” you bring the bags filled with your important assets—notebook, laptop, chargers, et cetera—to the car that is set up for you; knowing that your parents will still lend you one even if they disown you. putting in the back seat as you want to sit at the front, you turn to face the front door to see somi by the steps and your parents at the door, obscure by darkness.

“farewell.” you mouthed to yourself as you sit in the front seat of the car your family owns one last time.

the ride was quiet but exciting for you. a new beginning, even if it was unconventional. the gps is showing where your destination is as the chauffeur continues. the weekend is getting more hustle and bustle as people went out to their own thing and how you’re going to be those people intrigues you. when you arrived by the high-rises of the apartment complex, you give out a text as your car stops. you help the chauffeur pull out your bags from the back seat and boot before you give him a tip. “for a drink, for cig, i don’t know it depends on you.”

“thank you, miss.” the chauffeur steps into the car as the vehicle leaves you by the lobby of the building. you look down at your phone as you tried to text again when you heard his voice.

“no fucking way.” you see jay emerging from the door in his outfit from last night as you give him a tight-lip smile. his eyes wander the bags around you as he asked, “what happened?”

“long story short, i left my house and have no one to stay with so i phone the only person i trust with this.” you stepped towards him, hands behind you as you sway like a schoolgirl. “can i stay with you for a bit? i can move out if i find a unit for myse-“

“you can stay.” he moves closer with a smirk on his face, “if you’ll be with me?”

“i- i, okay. sure.” you let out a giggle. “weirdest way to have a boyfriend but i guess here we are.”

“yeah.” he chuckles and pulls his own phone out. “i gotta call hee first. they could help bring these up.” he widens his arms as you step to hug him in your arms while he wraps you tight, letting him call the others with you in his embrace. the boys and heeseung’s girlfriend all step down as they brought your stuff up when you find the apartment in a chaotic state.

“sorry (y/n), jay’s parents are gonna come over for dinner tonight and we’ve been trying our best to get rid of the plants.” heeseung said.

“i know. i saw the notification before leaving.” that’s when an idea came to your mind.

all five of you help clean the place up along with settling your stuff in jay’s room. the boys tried their best to get rid of the smoke and grass scents as jay makes the meal for the rest of them and his parents. you also did a detour with heeseung’s girlfriend to help camouflage the weed plants—all of them are now on the balcony. as heeseung’s girlfriend left to go home, you are the only that left to help with the little details as the boys are preparing themselves. when you help place dinner—just like how you remember the housekeeper places them—the boys all flock wearing the most academic and semi-formal outfits they have. that’s when all of you heard the bell as jay strays away and goes to greet his parents at the door. you stare at sunghoon and heeseung beside you as you remembered what they mentioned of them.

“they’re protective over jay but they do care for him. sometimes a bit too much like joining in his unnecessary business and all of that shit.”

jay emerges from the front door and you see his parents coming in wearing pretty casual clothes since jay said they check into their hotel after arriving. heeseung and sunghoon greets jay’s parents before they stopped to look at you as jay steps behind to bring you over.

“mom, dad. this is (y/n). my girlfriend.” his parents’ eyes widen as his mom lets out a sheepish smile, similar to his smile.

“nice to meet you, (y/n). he hasn’t told us about you.” his mom greets you positively as you tried your best to reply.

“likewise, mrs. park. we became official nearly a week ago. i didn’t expect to meet his parents so early too.” you tried to laugh it off while weaving the truth. of course, you don’t want them to learn that jay brought you to meet his parents the same day both of you are official.

“of course. i didn’t expect jay to have a high school sweetheart like his parents have until now.” mr. park chimes in as you glimpse the boys snickering while nudging jay’s side. you let both of them stand in and look around the room—you’ve hidden your stuff in boxes and his spare cabinet so that they don’t know you are living there.

their eyes scanned the used-to-be empty space in the living room where heeseung has set up a table for the dinner and then to the balcony beside it.

“is that rose that i see?” mrs. park steps towards. your eyes gaze at the boys as her son picks up the conversation.

“yes. heeseung’s girlfriend likes plants, so we let her take care of plants here too. (y/n) added the roses and chrysanthemums so it doesn’t look dull. so now, we have something to do at home. we wanted pets but we don’t know if we’re free enough to take care of one.” jay spoke the story all of you created to lie to his parents as your eyes land on him. you give him a wink, to which he replied with the same thing as he brought the parents to the table where the dinner is served.

-

jay rode his skateboard down the sidewalk and along the bicycle path of the streets of seoul, pushing his foot against the road so that it moves faster and faster. he almost forgot that his friends wants to meet up at cafe 95 to get an early dinner together before he read the now 11-person group chats. the afternoon sun shines on him as the wind is blowing on the ends of his blazer and his untucked white shirt. he has gone to several places to deliver the goods after school, seeing his fingers stain from the marker. his empty stomach is raging at him to fill up as he navigates through the sea of people.

the cafe’s exterior lights show in his vision as he approached it closer and closer. when he is close, jay slows down with his foot before kicking his skateboard to put it upright, seeing another skateboard similar to his already leaning against the bicycle racks at the front. the one he recognizes is the same model as his own but has a large rose pattern at the bottom between the wheels.

jay pushes the door as the bell rings when he looked at the gang’s usual corner to see some of them already at the table. even sunghoon who is also delivering already arrived before him. he pokes his cheek before stepping towards the counter whilst pulling out his wallet from his uniform pants.

“the usual iced americano?” he lifts his head to see you behind the cashier, wearing your barista outfit as his schoolmate is on the espresso machine, letting him smell the delicious aroma of caffeine.

when you mentioned to him how you wanted to at least try working for your own money, he remembers an open spot for a barista in cafe 95 and mentioned it to you. safe to say you got the job after jimin, the other co-founder of cafe 95 along with taehyung, tests you on their different coffees, and each ingredient needed—something he listens to as you sat on your shared bed, memorizing it like a school test. you have mixed all the cluttered items in his room with your own as it doesn’t look like a man cave anymore. decelis relics being mixed with levants, textbooks that are similar but made by different publishers, and the cat plushie sits by your bedside table. though with not much of a difference on color scheme, you have integrated yourself into his room and his life; making his dull one much more thrilling.

“yes. by the way, how’s the order?” jay whispered to you.

you lean in as best as you can so he could hear. “jooyeon, mako, and ryujin. all done. all deliver. how are you going to pay for the coffee, good sir?” you lean back after answering what he questioned.

ever since you stayed with the boys, rumors are going around about how you’re dating a decelis student known as “jay the stoner” in your school. that’s when you decide to take another avenue and be a part of the operation with him and sunghoon, a delivery staff specifically for levant high students or the ones surrounding it.

“cash. is all of the gang here?” jay mentions before putting it toward you.

“all except for taehyun and beomgyu, it seems,” you replied as you look the side to see all of your friends with him gathering at the corner.

jay gets his change and lets you make his order as he comes face-to-face with his friends. kai scoots towards sunghoon so that jay can sit beside him, facing sunoo who has his head on his best friend’s shoulder.

“you’ve seen beomgyu and taehyun?” he asked the two best friends who should know because of their relationship with the film club.

both of them shaking their heads as jay returns his gaze to his other friends who were talking about sunghoon, wondering what his two friends are up to. yet, no other of his friends are concerned.

his trance left as he felt you entering beside him, putting his order on the table. at least for now, jay can still enjoy his friends and new girlfriend all together, excited for what is coming. especially with the movie that sunoo has told about which his film club friends are taking a part to produce.

taglist: @endzii23 @fluffyywoo @camipendragon @hiqhkey @wccycc @cha0thicpisces @y4wnjunz @yeehawnana @beansworldsstuff @reallysmolrenjun @kimipxl @haerinism

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[fandomfluffandfuck]

(before i get into the meat of this ask i wanna say that i loved the first chapter of your fic so much xx)

okay. you know how it's like really fucking hot right now?? in the uk it is, anyway-

well.

think modern steve and bucky, a little younger (around 17-18-ish) - childhood best friends who go everywhere together and have virtually no secrets. So basically canon stucky but they haven't been fucking since they were old enough to know how to use their dicks...

it's the hottest day of the year so far and theyre sitting on steve's bed. Bucky's there because his fan broke (again) and has got a bowl of ice sitting on his chest, sucking on the cubes as Steve works away on this sketch he has to finish. They're both shirtless because even clothes are becoming too much to wear.

They're talking about stupid things, like if summer or winter is better (bucky says winter because no matter how cold it is you can always layer up - and he's right, by the way), what they would do if they were suddenly trapped in their favourite videogame (there's no way steve isn't getting ripped apart by a clicker from the last of us - his little artist hands would be no good with a gun), when Bucky asks,

"Do you have any gum?"

Steve, barely looking up from this one corner of his sketch that he's been erasing and redrawing to get the shape right, nods towards his bedside drawer.

"There should be some in there, I think," he says, and Bucky leans over to open it.

"Uh... steve?" Bucky asks, and Steve's eyes widen as he looks over at his friend and sees what he has in his hand.

"What the fuck- Bucky, put that back!" Steve puts his sketchbook beside him and tries to grab at Bucky's hand, missing it and flopping pathetically down onto the bed.

"Hey-! No, you can't- look, there's nothing embarrassing about having this... well- what even is it?"

"That's none of your business," Steve huffs, trying again to grab at his hand again, "Put it back. Please."

"What- oh-!"

Bucky's found the little button at the bottom of the vibrator and has decided to turn it on.

"Wait, does this go on your..."

"Yes, Bucky, it goes on my dick, now- give it back." Steve tries, holding out his hand. Bucky doesn't give it back - he keeps playing with the settings until he finds the highest one and presses it to his forearm.

"Holy shit," he murmurs, forgetting Steve is watching him for a moment, "You're not fucking around with this thing, huh?"

"Bucky..."

"How long?"

"What?"

Steve stares at Bucky, gaze flitting quickly from his chest to his eyes. Bucky raises his eyebrows, turning off the toy and facing Steve.

"How long do you usually last?" he asks, like it's as normal a thing than if he was asking the weather. How long do you usually last?

"It's getting a bit warmer in here, I'll turn the fan up-" Steve tries changing the subject, reaching for the fan's remote by stretching his arm across Bucky's laid out body. Bucky grabs his hand before he can reach, though, and their position is conflicting in so many ways.

"Tell me," Bucky says again, looking at Steve with dark eyes an watching the blond's stomach tremble with the effort of holding himself up, "How long can you last before you can't take it anymore?"

Steve's skin is burning from both the general heat and how Bucky's holding onto his wrist, tight enough so he can't go anywhere yet loose enough that if Steve pulls hard enough, he could free himself.

"I.. I don't know."

Bucky grins at that, and flips them over so he's on top of Steve, hovering, because their skin is sticky due to how hot it is in the room.

"You don't know?" Bucky asks, picking up the vibrator again and holding it in his hand, "Well - how about we find out?"

and thennnn.....

then steve comes within the first five minutes of being teased on the lowest setting because Bucky's chest and lips and eyes are right there and they set him off (along with the words he whispers in his ear in a totally platonic, non-sexual way because having a vibrator between your hand and another man's dick is totally not classed as a handjob - right?????)

*insert unintelligeble screaming noises*

bucky and steve's brains rn: imnotgayimnotgayimnotgayimnotgay-

enjoy my word vomit

"Sit" my new fic, part one of a new series 👀

(Thank you so much! I'm so glad people seem to be enjoying it, and I loved your response, especially, haha)

I will enjoy this 👀

I love, love, love the idea of Bucky picking up the vibrator, getting it to the highest setting and having his eyes widen as he feels it because, holy shit, that's fucking intense! Even on his arm! Bucky's opinion of Steve's sexual preferences (that he certainly has NOT thought about before, no, they're close buds, but not that close. Nope.) is rapidly forming, and it's... he's impressed. He can withstand this? Wrapped around his dick! How!?

But then--

Then, Bucky learns the truth.

And the truth is that Steve is sensitive; he's never even tried the highest setting. He struggles, on the lowest setting, to keep quiet--whimpering and biting back moans as it slides up and down his shaft, buzzing. He doesn't need more. The lowest is enough.

The lowest is enough to have him cumming embarrassingly quickly. When he orgasms with the assistance of the vibator, as Bucky quickly learns, he quivers. He shakes. He can't stop squirming, even after his cock is done cumming, painting his concave belly. The vibrations just... they crawl inside him, freying his nerves and setting a fire inside him that takes a while to burn down to coals.

It's fucking incredible to watch.

He looks so hot, squirming and panting and turning pink, hands balled into fists, mouth open, eyebrows drawn together.

Bucky needs a repeat performance. He needs several. For science. With and without the vibrator. All different levels of the vibrator. All different intensities of hand jobs and--

Yeah.

This has to happen again. A damn has been broken, they can't stop doing this now. They've only just started! Besides, Bucky hasn't gotten to try it yet 👀

Thank 👏🏻 you 👏🏻 for 👏🏻 this 👏🏻

I love this idea. It's incredibly delicious. I'm always here for first times 👀 I'm always here for poor, sensitive, squirming boys. I'm always, always here for sex toys.

[chelemlem]

ok i just read your love island 5 times snippet and omg it is the best thing ever!!! i have to know - do oscar and lando fall in looooooove after? does the world die when they see lando dump carlos and immediately date oscar from the show!? lando just posts a photo out of nowhere on insta lmao

gshdkk the ride or dies would be torn up about it but love island couples are almost never universally liked so there'd be a huge faction of facebook moms like "as expected norris is a game player who was just in it to win it he never cared about carlos at all 😑😒" and vice versa

also no one even knows who oscar is so even when they're papped together fans would be like "oh that's probably his new publicist. understandable the old one was terrible at putting out fires..." "lando's treating him to lunch that's nice must've been a spon" "hm he's traveling with lando to ibiza bit weird but ok"

lando doesn't post him for privacy reasons but then someone unearths oscar's locked linkedin, figures out he's a pa on the show and starts connecting the dots (omg this pasty white wrist wearing a watch in the reflection of lando's mirror selfie 🔍🔍🔍)... ofc this sparks new widespread discourse i.e did lando only survive to the finals bc he received special treatment from the producers??? (he sorta did but it's nbd <3)

and later when everyone's doing the podcast rounds the hosts are like SO LANDO are you seeing anyone right now? and he's all "naaah i'm just focusing on my career let me enjoy the single life for a bit geez 😁"

but then he briefly looks at someone off camera ! ! the girlies on the li uk sub would have a field day

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || AO3 || My Website

Chapter 114: May 2018

Martin knew it was going to be a rough day when he woke up to find Tim playing with a prism.

Not that it had been a particularly good week to begin with, or even a particularly good month. The dispassionate aloofness that protected Martin in his dreams had started seriously eroding, and while that was probably a good thing—he’d been really worried about what it meant that he could just watch people, especially people he cared about like Gerry and Naomi, go through the worst days of their lives like it was a television program—it did mean his sleep was a good deal more restless, and he always worried he was going to wake Jon, or hurt him by accident. The progression through the dreams was getting far less orderly, too, and he struggled to figure out what the pattern was, if there was a pattern. If it wasn’t just meant to disorientate him, keep him off balance, and make him just as afraid as the people begging him to help not knowing he was just as helpless as they were.

Besides his petty little personal problems…things were getting bad for everyone else, too. Maybe worse. Melanie and Sasha had turned up Monday morning with the cats and a lingering smell of smoke; they were all fine, and the house had mostly survived, but the interior was a mess and they were going to have to stay in the Archives until her landlord was finished the renovations. Melanie was already betting against him changing the leasehold to say that she couldn’t have pets anymore. Tim had left after work that day and come back with Gerry and Umberto; Martin had assumed he just felt guilty being the only one who got to leave until Gerry and Daisy came up from the tunnels, where they’d been looking for vermin of some kind to satisfy both their hungers, looking shaken and pissed respectively. Gerry had had one of his attacks when Daisy nearly pounced on a particularly juicy-looking spider (her words) and he’d seen the black marks of potential death bloom on her face and chest, and they still weren’t sure what that was all about. That night he’d had a nasty Web-related flashback that they’d spent all of Wednesday searching to see if there was a statement in the Archives that matched.

And every time any of them so much as set a toe outside the Archives, it seemed, there were cobwebs everywhere.

Martin hadn’t heard Gerry’s flashback the night before, since he and Jon had taken to sleeping in the Archivist’s office—Jon refused to let him sleep alone, no matter how bad the nightmares got—but seeing Tim sitting at his desk, shining a tiny pocket torch through a triangular crystal that he was twisting this way and that and watching the colors play across the desk, gave Martin a pretty good idea of what it might have been about. He hadn’t asked, though, not yet anyway. He’d just gone into the break room to make them both some tea.

As he went through the familiar motions, made slightly off by the necessity of avoiding the small brown spider that had apparently taken it into its head to redecorate the shelves for Halloween five months early, he tried to remember the conversation they’d had half a lifetime ago, literally. He’d been on the cusp of fifteen, the lines on his wrists only just beginning to fade into relative invisibility and the rebellion and desire to push back against his mother and Aunt Mary’s treatment and plans for him only just beginning to form, fresh off his first broken heart and ripe for what would turn out to be the best year in chorus he’d ever had. Melanie had just found her niche and started planting the seeds that would eventually lead to Ghost Hunt UK, which she’d once confided she hoped would satisfy the itch of curiosity that fueled the Eye without actually binding her closer to it. And Gerry had been on the verge of adulthood, primed to up stakes and flee to the continent the instant Melanie and Martin were well and truly out of it. They’d all been so…hopeful. It hadn’t been a serious conversation because it wasn’t going to matter much longer, even if they hadn’t started consciously thinking that way yet.

Except, obviously, none of them had made it out. Here he was on the cusp of thirty, and they’d all ended up falling deeper into it—only Melanie was at a point where she even could possibly still walk away, and she was so damn stubborn that she wouldn’t—and Martin vaguely remembered making a comment about how once people who didn’t work for the Institute started calling you Archivist, you were probably in it too deep to be saved. It was darkly funny now, because Martin, who’d never considered himself important for anything to bother with, had somehow become at least the second most powerful servant of the Ceaseless Watcher in existence. And he wasn’t entirely certain he wasn’t more powerful than Elias, although he wasn’t particularly keen to try it.

“Won’t have to, either, as long as the bastard stays put,” he muttered at the spider that was peeking out from between the sugar canister and the powdered milk Hannah and Gail were always arguing over. He didn’t know if it was the same one as before or a new one. “And don’t go getting any ideas. Get out of here while it’s still your choice.”

The spider didn’t move. Martin weighed up the merits of pulling out a bit of the Archivist power versus the possibility that this was just an ordinary spider, then reached for a paper towel to either humanely remove it from the break room or squish it without getting guts all over his fingers. When he looked back up, though, it was gone.

The kettle clicked off with a sound similar enough to the tape recorders that Martin found himself instinctively looking around for where it might be. Then he shook himself back to sense, checked the mugs to ensure they were unoccupied, and busied himself with the tea.

Tim was still playing with the prism, in combination with a crystal ashtray he’d found somewhere. He started in surprise when Martin slid the tea under his nose and looked up. “Martin? What are you doing up?”

“I could ask you the same. It’s two in the morning.” Martin sat down in the chair that had once been his and was now Jon’s. “Nightmares ran their course, and there’s not usually any point in sleeping further once they’re done, I guess. Came out and saw you messing with this.” He nodded at the prism. “Let me guess, Gerry had a flashback to the time we tried to improve on Smirke’s system?”

“Got it in one.” Tim clicked off the torch and set it aside. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said—well, what Gerry said you said—about shining light through a prism. I know there’s not a way to put them back together, but…I mean, if you move the torch, all the colors move. There’s no way to move just one. And, I mean, there are only so many colors you can break light into.” He ran his finger over the point of the prism. “You can’t make new colors.”

“You can if you shine light through another prism and combine them. Or look harder at the overlap between the colors.” Martin took a sip of his tea. “I know what you’re thinking, Tim, but…well, the Flesh and the Hunt were just emerging, or at least just emerging in humans, when Smirke started making his classifications. They can splinter off from existing Fears. There’s…Dekker probably isn’t wrong about the Extinction.”

“Do you think Basira is?”

Martin hesitated. “I think Basira has her reasons for trusting Peter Lukas. I just don’t know what they are.”

Tim glanced over his shoulder towards where the trapdoor was, and where he, Gerry, and Daisy tended to bunk down. “Did you tell her what we found out? About how to quit?”

“I told her,” Martin said quietly. “All she said was that if we were planning to go that route, to make sure we submitted a letter of resignation so she could process the severance package. I can’t tell if that was a joke or not. She’s hard to read sometimes.”

What had been obvious, though, was that she was definitely not going to be quitting. Assuming that was even how she had to quit, now that she wasn’t in the Archives, or if she even could; even if the Eye hadn’t been too big on seeing the future, it still wouldn’t give Martin that information. She was absolutely committed to her plan, whatever it was. He still wasn’t sure if she was actually on Peter Lukas’ side or if she was playing some kind of long con on him too, but whatever she was up to, she wouldn’t let anything deviate her from that path.

“Daisy was telling us the other day that she ran into her, too,” Tim said. “Didn’t ask her about quitting, so she said, but…she’s worried she might have lost her way. Basira’s not the kind to give away what she’s planning necessarily, but there were…little things they used to do to reassure one another or communicate when they worked on the force, and she didn’t get any of those. So either she was really paranoid about being overheard, or she’s doing exactly what she says she is—helping Peter Lukas.”

“We don’t…actually know that he’s wrong,” Martin said cautiously. “Or that he’s doing something evil.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t, but Basira might. Or she might believe she’s tempering whatever it is he’s doing. But if she won’t listen—or share—there’s only so much we can do.” Martin sighed. “And if she won’t tell Daisy, she definitely won’t tell the rest of us.”

“She might tell you. She likes you.”

“Liked, past tense. I’m pretty sure she still blames me for what happened to Daisy. And since she wouldn’t have gone over to work with him if Daisy had been here, I think she thinks that’s my fault too.”

Tim snorted and rubbed at his forehead. “You didn’t ask Daisy to sacrifice herself. From what she said, you tried to stop her. It’s why the two of you worked so well together on all that, because you both trusted the other to do what was necessary and keep the rest of them safe. The rest of us, really.”

“I know.” And Martin did know. He’d just expected to be the one doing the sacrificing. “Anyway, I didn’t say it was my fault, I just said Basira blames me. And there’s not really a way to convince her otherwise. She’s…”

“Stubborn? Hard-headed?”

“Tenacious.”

“Same thing.” Tim stifled a sneeze.

“Allergies?” Martin asked sympathetically.

Tim shrugged ruefully. “Stirred up a bit of dust digging out the prism, I guess. I knew I’d seen it around here somewhere, but it had been a while. And it was covered in cobwebs when I did.” He must have seen something in Martin’s expression, because he added, “I’m sure it was innocuous, Mart. I saw it ages ago, and I don’t think anyone has touched it since.”

“You’re probably right, but I’m still suspicious.” Martin nudged the prism lightly. “Although…why would the Web even care? How would it even know?”

“Spiders spinning daydreams in the copses.” The last word opened up into a yawn, which Tim tried to hide behind a hand.

It wasn’t even a good attempt, and Martin didn’t bother pretending he hadn’t seen it. “How much sleep did you actually get last night? Or at all this week?”

“I took a nap yesterday,” Tim said.

“At eleven in the morning. For thirty-seven minutes. And you weren’t so much asleep as sitting with your eyes closed petting the cat.” Martin raised an eyebrow at Tim’s sheepish look, while at the same time mentally tallying it up as a personal win as well as a point in favor of his argument that Tim didn’t call him out on Knowing that, since it was awfully specific and could only have come from the Beholding. “Go lie down, Tim. At least for an hour or two. You need the rest, and Umberto would probably like someone warm to cuddle with.”

“Last I saw he was curled up with Daisy. But okay.” Tim yawned and stood. “Thanks for the tea. Sorry I didn’t drink it.” With that, he lurched over to the trap door. Martin heard a faint mrrp as Umberto, or possibly one of Melanie’s cats, came over to seek the new cuddle buddy, and then all was silent again.

Alone in the dark, Martin stared at the prism. He understood the nature of light better than he had at fifteen, and he understood the Fears a bit better too, or at least he felt like he did. The Ceaseless Watcher was surprisingly reticent on the subject of itself and its fellows.

Or maybe not that surprising. Martin wouldn’t want to give the key to his potential undoing to anyone he didn’t trust not to use it either. Probably the only way to really Know the actual truth was to go through with the Watcher’s Crown, whatever that might have entailed. He was the Archivist, after all; if the ritual didn’t involve him being a…sacrificial lamb or whatever, he would probably be very important in whatever new world was created. There would be no hiding things from him, he thought. No secrets he would not know, no knowledge that could be withheld. All truths, any lies, secrets and strengths and weaknesses, all at his fingertips…

Wait. Those weren’t his thoughts.

Martin winced and drove the heel of his hand into his temple, gritting his teeth as he tried to force the Beholding back into submission. The trouble with getting more powerful, having more safeguards, is that the temptations got bigger and harder to resist, too. He wasn’t the megalomaniac type, he’d never wanted to rule the world or anything, but being in the dark—with a lowercase D, metaphorically speaking—got frustrating at times and it was difficult to resist the urge to just…have that information. The lure of a world where he could, and where he could control the ebb and flow of information, was pretty damn powerful. If Elias was the one trying to set it in motion—or had been, since he didn’t seem able to do much from in prison, even if he had managed to charm himself into a few privileges—then restricting Jon’s, and later Martin’s, access to information, constantly setting them up for situations where having that knowledge would have made all the difference in the world, was probably the most effective method in existence of getting them on his side. If Martin hadn’t had the Archives crew as anchors, it would have been far more difficult not to go to Elias and say look, fine, I know you want to bring the Ceaseless Watcher into this world, tell me what I need to do and I’ll do it.

But he did have the others, and the image of what Jon’s face, or Melanie’s, would look like if he did was enough to make him mentally flip off the Eye and stride off to Peter Lukas’ office to go find himself something for a midnight snack.

Elias’s office, now Peter’s, actually had two parts, the large room in the back Elias had primarily used for storage and the small front room where he’d done his work. Peter used the back room as his primary office, on the rare occasions he was in, and the outer office had been given to Basira. Not that Martin saw either of them very often, but it was easy to see…well, it was easy to tell someone was using it, even if it was completely impersonal, even more than Elias’s office had been. The ledgers and fountain pens were gone, replaced with a squat ivory computer tower and a CRT monitor. The wire cup on the desk was the sort that came in standard office supply kits and contained generic, mass-market pens. The mouse pad was square and blank white with a brand name screen printed on the bottom right corner that was so worn and faded Martin couldn’t read it anymore. There wasn’t even a coat or shawl draped over the back of the chair, and even if it wasn’t that bad up here, Martin knew it was cold in the Lonely. Unless she’d got used to that by now.

There was, however, a spider on the handle to the door to Peter’s office. It moved up the door when Martin looked at it, but he didn’t trust that, and he decided, fuck it, he’d kill this one. He was getting damned tired of the Web and its ilk. Slowly, keeping his eyes on the spider to make sure it didn’t get away before he could, he reached behind him, found the drawer of the desk, slid it open, and reached inside. His fingers found something smooth and solid and heavy-feeling, and as he tried to grip it, something moved.

Click.

The slightly muffled voice that came out of the drawer was Gertrude’s. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course I do.” The voice that responded was wholly unfamiliar to Martin.

“Well, that’s a shame.” If Martin had been inclined to doubt Gerry’s memory and his mother’s statement, the tone of voice in which Gertrude delivered that would have left him in no doubt they were related.

Distracted from the spider, he turned, pulled the tape recorder out of the desk, and stopped playback, then rewound it and sat in Basira’s chair. It wasn’t something she was recording, and obviously if she meant for him to listen to it she’d have left it for him. Maybe she hadn’t listened to it herself yet. But, well, he was here, and she wouldn’t be in until the actual working hours started, and it was better to listen up here where he wouldn’t risk waking Jon anyway. He could rewind it when he was done and put it back and no one would be the wiser.

The recorder popped, indicating it had reached the start of the reel, and Martin pushed PLAY.

This time he listened much more carefully to the opening exchange. He heard himself in Gertrude’s words and tone—talking to Breekon, talking to Mustermann, hell, the way he’d spoken to his own mother on her deathbed—and wondered how much was being the Archivist and how much was being related and how much was just coincidence. The thoughts snapped out of his head, though, when she started talking about Agnes.

It wasn’t a proper statement. Not at first. That didn’t start for a bit, and he knew exactly when it did in the small part of him that held on when the Archivist swept over him, because the actual statement unfolded before him in grainy, sketchy black and white, like an animation pencil test being projected through an infrared camera thirty years out of date. But it was compelling in its own way, and in the way of most of Gertrude’s commentary, it answered a few questions and opened up so many more. The man who had once been the head of the Church of the Lightless Flame and later been Jane Prentiss’ landlord was jaded, bitter…and definitely scared. As defiant as he was at first, Martin could practically smell the fear the more Gertrude spoke, and something in him was almost disappointed that the man was dead and this wouldn’t be joining his dreams.

No. No, he definitely didn’t want to dream about this.

The tape clicked off, and Martin drew in a lungful of air, sitting back in Basira’s chair. His hand tightened around the recorder, and he felt the buzzing, at which point it occurred to him that he’d left the tape playing on the desk in front of him. He looked at his hand and, sure enough, there was a more retro recorder than the model that had been in Basira’s desk, recording away. When had he pulled that out?

“Gertrude didn’t mention what she did to Eugene Vanderstock,” he said slowly. “Neither did Arthur Nolan. And I sure as hell haven’t done any digging into it, since this literally just came to my attention. But the Knowledge…is there, whether I want it or not. I don’t want it. I wish I didn’t know what it felt like to be alive as your whole being is infused with grit, how painful that is, but I do. Good to know that works against the Fourteen, anyway. Or some of its agents. I’m not sure how high up in the Lightless Flame Eugene was, or how powerful. Not as powerful as Gertrude, that’s for damned sure, but…”

He stared vacantly at Basira’s recorder, then leaned forward to rewind it for her before sitting back with a sigh. “Hill Top Road,” he mused. “Everything keeps coming back to that. We’ve had so many little threads go towards it that never end up anywhere, so many stories that weave around it. And now this. I-I know it’s a story we knew, sort of, but at the same time…we didn’t know Agnes’ side of it. We still don’t, I guess. I wonder what she thought, growing up there. I wonder if she thought of it as home, or just a place to live. I wonder what made her decide to protect Ronald Sinclair, if it was the whim of a child who wanted to see what would happen or an attempt to prove she was capable of more than causing pain and destruction or just a desire to stop the Web from winning.” He sighed again. “I wonder if it was actually the Lightless Flame’s doing that kept Gertrude alive that long or if it was the bond with Agnes itself. I won’t let myself wonder if my bond with Jon and Gerry is strong enough to keep me safe like that.”

He shook his head and said again, “Hill Top Road. I can’t help but wonder how much centers around that. It’s not just the statements. The matron of the Sunnydene Children’s Home mentioned Mr. Fielding’s halfway house, Gerry and Melanie and I went to that Halloween party there…there have been so many things centered around it. The Web, the Desolation, the Spiral, the Lone—” He stopped and sat up straighter as the knowledge slammed into his head, for the first time in twenty years.

“No,” he breathed. “Not the Lonely. It wasn’t the Lonely that was after me then. It was the Dark. I just assumed it was the Lonely, but…fuck. No wonder those things at the swap meet were so interested in me.”

He sat in stunned silence for a few moments as the implications of that washed over him. He’d been wrong about that all these years. What else was he wrong about at Hill Top Road?

There was an analog clock on the wall, plain and austere. Martin glanced at it and calculated, then stood decisively. “Right. I think this is a thread I need to pull. I can make the next train to Oxford and probably be back before everyone wakes up properly. It’s time to finish this once and for all. I’m heading to Hill Top Road.”

Click. The recorder shut itself off, which Martin took as approval of his plan.

He wasn’t thoroughly stupid. He went back through the Archives and left a note, just in case someone—likely Gerry—woke up before he got back. For just a moment, he hesitated and stepped into his office. Jon was still curled up in their nest of blankets, breathing lightly, looking peaceful and somehow younger than his age in his sleep. The temptation to crawl back under the covers, curl around him, and sleep a little longer was definitely present. Only the certainty that if he didn’t go now Jon would insist on going with him kept him from doing that.

Instead, he knelt down, pressed a gentle, tender kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead, and quietly let himself out of the Archives.

It was early enough that the sun hadn’t come up yet, and the trip to Paddington station was thoroughly uneventful. There was a bit of chaos stemming from the newly set train schedules, but more people lived in Oxford and commuted to work in London than the other way around, so despite everything Martin ended up having the carriage largely to himself, which gave him plenty of space and time to think over his plan.

He didn’t have one.

The shortest route to Hill Top Road from the train station took him straight through the park. Childish superstition warred with stubborn defiance, and in the end, he decided to risk it. Unsurprisingly, nothing happened. It could have been that he was too powerful to interest whatever had been here before, it could be that it had long ago left, but more than likely it was just too close to sunrise to be prime hunting grounds for the Dark, despite the clouds and drizzle. Whatever the case, he made it to the other side unmolested.

The house Judith Bradford’s grandfather had owned was gone, which was something of a shock; it had been the largest and most impressive house on the block, and now there was nothing but a slight depression where the basement had once been. Martin stared at it for a moment, letting memory and knowledge mingle. It had burnt down not long after construction on the replacement for the Fielding house had concluded, probably retaliation from the Lightless Flame for the loss of Agnes Montague, possibly just bad luck. Either way, it wasn’t where he was heading and it wasn’t any of his concern.

Still…as he continued on up the road, getting progressively wetter and wishing like hell he’d brought an umbrella, he couldn’t help but think back to the party. He actually hadn’t had a very good time even before Gerry made them leave; he’d spent about half the time avoiding the food so that he didn’t get called names for being fat and the other half of the time avoiding Lizzie van Pelt and Helen—Helen—what was her last name? They’d both been dressed as Anastasia and spent an awful lot of time trying to flirt with him, and since even back then Martin had been quietly in love with one of the older boys in the group he’d been very uncomfortable with it. He’d never much enjoyed the ones from previous years, either, and he’d really only gone because Melanie wanted him to.

There weren’t any good memories on this street. Not his, not Ronald Sinclair’s, not Ivo Lensik’s, not Father Burroughs’, probably not even Agnes’. He wasn’t going to learn anything that didn’t hurt. Why was he doing this?

Because, he thought. Because he couldn’t leave the mystery alone, because it was important to so many Fears, because there was something he didn’t understand. Because he’d felt so strongly that he shouldn’t dig more into Hill Top Road. Because the Web hadn’t tried a ritual yet either, as far as he knew—unless that was what Raymond Fielding had been up to—and the risk of Jon or Sasha being made a keystone of one was too great for him to let things alone. Because—goddamn it, Helen’s last name was Richardson, the onetime real estate agent who’d been taken by the Spiral had been the same pretentious snob who’d decided he would make an ideal partner and had insulted his sister in the bargain. Nobody deserved what she’d got, he thought, but it couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.

Preoccupied with that, he walked up the front path of 105 Hill Top Road and reached for the door.

It wasn’t until he was actually inside the building, neat and well-appointed and sturdy and clean—apart from all the cobwebs—that it occurred to Martin that the door shouldn’t have been open. Nobody lived there—all their research had been very clear on that—and while it didn’t seem to be for sale, there was certainly no reason for it to be unlocked. And yet he’d just…walked in like he owned the place.

A feeling of foreboding crept up his spine. It was not helped by the soft click as the tape recorder he hadn’t realized he’d put back in his pocket clicked on.

Martin pulled it out and spoke into it as quietly as possible. “I’m…in the house. Not the house, of course, the one Raymond Fielding and Agnes Montague lived in burned down years ago, this is a rebuild. But this…this land, this spot, there’s something significant about it. And it invited me in. No…it led me in. I can’t help but recall that in Ronald Sinclair’s statement, he talked about being drawn back in by invisible threads, that he didn’t feel like he was making a choice but he knew it was a thing he was going to do. I’m in much the same boat. I can’t walk away now, but…why not? What’s keeping me here?” He took a deep breath. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out.”

Cautiously, he began moving through the ground floor. Like most fat people, Martin had always been very light on his feet, and like most children who’d grown up in abusive households he had long ago mastered the art of moving quietly without being heard. The building might be ten years old, but it had never been lived in, so the chances of creaky floorboards were slim, and there was every chance he could get through without disturbing…whoever had unlocked the door.

Christ, that was an unsettling thought.

“There’s no obvious basement,” he murmured. “I know that was in the old building, but Anya Villette’s statement suggested there was one in this building, too. I would have thought…” He trailed off, staring at what he’d at first assumed to be a closet. There was…something behind it. Something important.

Slowly, inexorably, both afraid to know what was there and afraid to walk away, Martin reached for the handle of the door. His fingers wrapped around it, and he began, with the same deliberate slowness, to turn it.

A hand clamped over his mouth, and another arm wrapped around his torso, restraining him with surprising strength. He let out a muffled curse and tried to poke his tongue through his lips and lick the hand to get whoever it belonged to to let go, but somehow, his lips wouldn’t part. The hand pressed over them seemed strangely…sticky.

“Sorry about this, Martin,” a voice, low and female and wholly unfamiliar, said directly into his ear. “Can I call you Martin? I’m going to call you Martin. Anyway, I am sorry, but I thought it was high time we had a little…chat. Face to face, as it were.” The person gave a low chuckle. It wasn’t especially sinister, but it nevertheless filled Martin’s entire being with dread. “Step into my parlor.”

[ddagent]

henry/jason + forgiveness

Henry/Jason | The Final Girls | Angst | FR15 | 907 words Jason knows he will never be forgiven but, Lord, wishes he was. (References to genre typical horror) FCs: Jason McCallister (David Tennant, Henry Reid (Michael Sheen), Bernie Doyle (Constance Zimmer)

Jason McCallister learnt everything he knew about forgiveness from his father. A cold, Scottish Protestant minister, he would offer forgiveness to his flock but only those who deserved it, earned it. Late at night, his thoughts lingered on the weeks after Ben’s disappearance – the cold earth under his footsteps as he searched, the placating hand on Missus McDonald’s shoulder as Reverend McCallister uttered the words maybe it’s for the best. Jason screaming at his father to do something as an empty casket was buried instead; the sleek red bicycle sold off to someone in the town over.

As night slipped further into morning, Jason’s thoughts – as they often did – turned towards Henry.

There were three versions of Henry, inside his head. There was author Henry – back in the UK, back then, Jason had read all his books. Devoured mysteries with answers; crimes that were solved. He’d attended a few panels and book signings and had once lobbied to interview him with no luck at all. That interview would come later, with murderer Henry. Shackles around his wrists, a haunted look in his eyes. He had been sweet and charming and…lovely but Jason had seen through the act that was not an act at all. Branded him monster – all for the best. Then there was his Henry. This Henry. Still charming and delightful but there was a bite that wasn’t there before.  It left Jason wanting, coveting.

Covetousness is idolatry.

Lying in bed, Jason indulged in worship. Rather than scrolling through whatever new hook-up app Nico, his producer, had put on his phone, Jason took to Henry’s Instagram. Private settings but he was a friend, now. Allowed in the inner circle of private snapshots of Henry in his home in Venice, of perusing second-hand book shops. Henry had been arrested for his wife Marlene’s murder in 2004. No real social media back then but there had been two strained photoshoots of Henry and his new stepchildren. They didn’t have the ease of Henry and the Doyles. Bernie and her girls: shots of Dani’s vegetable garden and badly applied stage make-up for Ash’s new short film. Henry with his arm around Bernie – law partners, the best and oldest of friends.

She was forgiven.But not Jason. Never Jason.

His phone sprung to life. Henry, as if summoned by Jason’s prayers. He slid the accept call button across the screen. “Hen,” he began, as if he hadn’t spent the last half hour stalking him through social media. “This is late.”

“Put on Lifetime.”

Jason followed as instructed and immediately groaned. Written to Kill was a truly shocking ninety minutes dramatizing the events of Henry’s arrest and trial, with the last act focusing on the events of their short acquaintance. In the movie, Jason was played by some brash American doing a dreadful English accent (never mind that Jason, himself was Scottish), who conspired to gain a murderer’s trust by flattery and deception. The film was five minutes from the end; the journalist was outlining everything his subject had done wrong – every truth he’d failed to conceal, every previous lie he’d unpicked. The actor playing Henry stared, eyes glinting, as the question of whether he really killed his wife was finally revealed.

But I thought we were—

Whatever the end to that sentence was, Jason would never hear it. He would never be forgiven; never be absolved. And why should he? He saw an innocent man and, with his father’s hand upon his shoulder, condemned him in print and publication. Maybe it’s for the best. God, fuck, why were they even watching this? Did Henry want to torture him? What was next: deliver a copy of his article to his office every day? But he deserved it. You deserve worse, you deserve worse, you deserve so much worse—

“—shame it’s at the end; thought we could have a good laugh at it. Utterly ridiculous. They’re missing out half the real story as well.” That was Jason’s fault. The omissions in his article. Fourteen weeks instead of seven; letters exchanged in between visits. Bribes spent removing Henry’s chains so he could touch and be touched. Of course, you thought we were; so did I. “Maybe we could rent it, or something? Watch it together. Laugh at them. Just wait twenty years – you’ll be friends.”

“We-we are?”

A pause. Then: “Of course we are. I, well, I thought we were.”

“Yes, yes, absolutely, Hen. We’re friends. We’re friends.”

Four months ago, Jason had been on the hunt for a missing boy. A case that had consumed him: he’d gone to Bernie and her…associates for help. It’s what they did: find people, help people, save people. It came at a cost; all third act victories did. As Jason nursed a concussion and Henry his broken ribs, Bernie had passed him a drink. Two fingers of whiskey. He’d stared, unable to reconcile the DA that had hugged Marlene’s children close as Henry had been sentenced to life in prison and the woman that had pushed him out the way of a speeding van. There was DA Bernie and final girl Bernie and countless versions in between. He just stared and asked: Does it ever bother you? What we did to him?

After a moment, she nodded. I can’t go into that courtroom. But he can – and has. If Henry has taught me one thing, it is the enviable and unyielding power of forgiveness.

Amen.  

[creepypastalover97]

Time for another creepypasta au headcannon.

Today’s headcannon is going to be on one of the favorite proxies. Ticci toby everyone!

Just to clarify. I know ticci toby is not a creepypasta anymore because kastoway said so, and I know he had his reasons. But ticci toby is low-key one of the posterchilds of creepypasta. In my mind he will always be one of the creepypastas. So that’s why I’m putting him in this au. Thank you.

Anyway. Time for the headcannon.

Here we go.

. Alright so he’s best boi. No cap.

. he’s very excitable, say one thing he likes and bam he’s super excited

. He enjoys to chase people, it gives him an adrenaline rush

. He can be a bit of a trouble maker and has a short attention span.

. He sneezes like a kitten as a result of always trying to be quiet when he lived with his parents.

. This guy is a total pyromaniac and loves setting off fires for the fun of it.

. Do not let Toby be in the kitchen alone, he could set something on fire; so far he has burned water, cereal, juice, and the stove.

. Toby have very violent twitches due to his tourettes

. He tends to get injured a lot and is very accident prone which makes older proxies worry a lot about him.

. He has cognitive insensitivity to pain (CIP) which makes him unable to feel pain.

. Since he can’t feel pain he has to get daily medical checkups with Nurse Ann to make sure that he doesn’t have any heath issues like broken bones, infections, cuts, burns, bruises, etc.

. He can’t tie his shoes, he never really got it.

. Toby is afraid of the dark.

. He loves a lot of very edgy music and he shakes his hips to Get Scared.

. He likes to play videogames particularly online competitive games *cough* fortnite *cough*

. okay but he’s a conspiracist and no one can tell me otherwise.

. Pansexual. Like to an extreme because of his constant attraction towards others without a thought,causing him to be easily flustered or admit to things without shame between stutters sometimes.

. Toby is cannibalistic.

. He's not much of a sweet tooth due to his habit of chewing the flesh from his fingers or his love for meat in general. But if you're asking on which sweet he craves for often,it would be Brownies.

. He loves anything cherry flavoured.

. He's a sucker for sweaters and hooded jackets. Long sleeved tops makes him more comfortable and easy for him to cover up his arms.

. His tone is more on sarcasm everywhere,assuming or countering that anything people would say is not gonna stop him otherwise.

. he makes clueless jokes all the time. masky and his sideburns are his number one go-to roast

masky gets pissed.

. He is Filipino-German and is Trilingual. His mother is of Filipino descent while his father is German. Though despite not being brought up in the UK, toby has a very British way of speaking. He blames this on the books he reads and the YouTubers he watches.

. He knows German

. He's adventurous. He enjoys strolling around the forest, looking through abandoned places to climbing up trees,traveling towards each one of them for fun or stealth purposes. He even has animal friends there too! Ask him which place to go and he'll show you a ton of places he knows around the woods.

. Will just bring home wild animals, wild animals that are practically tame for him. He’s just a Disney princess in disguise(he will put wild animals in someone’s room if they piss him off tho).

. Toby is a fan of animals. His favorite animals are Racoons and Owls. He reminds them of him,appearance-wise and personality-wise plus they're floofy than any other animal he encounters above trees. Not to mention he has a pet raccoon he named Spots!

. Watches clocks to calm himself or fall asleep. The tickings are soothing. He wears a watch to bed and puts his wrist near his ear so can fall asleep. ( or sleeps with clockwork.)

. Toby’s relationship with Clockwork is only allowed by Slender Man on the grounds that it never interferes with his work.

. Toby is Roman Catholic and constantly has rosary beads on his person.

. You know those people who can naturally lead others? yeah that’s not toby. he’s a follower, and does whatever he’s told.

. He was seen as a dog to others because of times he shakes his head everytime his hair is messy or wet.

. Terrible nicknames for everybody he knows? He’s got you covered.

. Has no sense of direction whatsoever. Often gets the other proxies lost on missions.

. He doesn’t get mad to often but when he does all hell breaks loose. It takes Jeff, EJ, Masky and Hoodie at least to hold him down .

. His mask and goggles serve as a comfort blanket due to his insecurity about his gash/his goggles are a piece of his childhood.

. He has dimples.

. He had an odd fascination with stars (because Lyra is a constellation).

. ya know dipper from gavity falls? and his forehead birthmark thing?

toby has that but it’s the lyra constellation

. I don’t think there was ever a clear canonical explanation for how he got that gash in his cheek so here’s my explanation for how he got it: Before he got his mouth guard he would chew on his cheek when he was stressed. Nobody realized anything was wrong until he managed to chew all the way through his cheek. It was EJ who suggested he wear a mouth guard to prevent this from happening again. Speaking of that gash in his cheek, ever since he got it he has to tilt his head slightly whenever he eats to make sure the food doesn’t leak out.

. One time the SCP Foundation captured him for questioning. Before Slender Man could “rescue” him though, the Foundation let him go after a couple of hours because he’s just so goddamn annoying and they didn’t want to deal with him anymore.

. Out of all the proxies his memory has the most holes. This is because he hit his head on a rock during the fire. Slender never caused his amnesia.

. He view’s slender as a father figure, and sees the other proxies as his siblings. Circe is his favorite because she’s the youngest, making her his baby sister.

. Is fucking terrified of moths. Aside of being terrified of moths, toby hates moths because he has trouble pronouncing plural of their name. He’s a firm believer that it should be something like “mothi”.

. Thanks to Toby's CIPA he can't sweat so overheating and passing out/having seizures becomes an issue so there's a little roster chart of who hoses him down after missions to keep him cool.

. He has a lot of trouble understanding his body since he can’t feel any pain. Sometimes he can break a leg, and when he can’t get up, he has to figure out what's wrong.

. He is obsessed with his hatchets. Toby cares for his hatchets like their his own children. Touch them and he’ll go ballistic. The one time Toby lost his hatchets, he just went out spray painting things like the proxy symbol and other things on walls out of frustration….

Turns out they were just stuck in his spine, hoodie had to point that out.

. Speaking of his hatchets. He’s really skilled at twirling them around like they weigh nothing! He’s also really good at twirling knives, machetes, just....any sharp weapon. Great tactics for giving people heart attacks.

. The power toby developed while being a proxy are stronger legs. They have great shock absorption. The farthest he has jumped was 29 ft. Like this boy has insane frog skills.

. Toby owns at least 3 easy bake ovens; the reason for this is simple: toby likes cooking, but slender doesn’t trust him near any source of heat for shit, lest his pyromania kicks up. So he got him a easy bake oven instead. The sad thing is toby became really good at using them, and now everyone secretly loves his baking more than slender’s cooking even though it’s done on an easy bake.

. He’s loved comic books from a young age, and this has followed him through his whole life. Chances are, if he’s not on a mission, you’ll find him chilling out somewhere, just calmly reading a comic book.

. He contacts Lyra via Quinta board and everyone thinks it’s aspect of his schizo but in reality it’s not.

. Toby has built a cardboard fort in slenderman’s backyard ( it’s really not a backyard, it’s just an area less populated by trees) more times than he can count. He knows it’ll get ruined by the elements, but it’s part of the fun for him; each time it gets distoryed he just builds a bigger and better one.

And last but not least here are some of Toby’s motor tics:

. I know he does the bras d'honneur often. Probably almost took his arm off with his ax doing it once ^

. He’ll pat his chest or whistle and then flip you off

. Patting, with the verbal comment “pat pat pat pat-”Could be his thigh, another persons shoulder, a table or counter, armrest ^

. Might chatter his teeth sometimes

. Wiggly fingers. That’s it. Just wiggly fingers

. Bites himself a lot- which I think is canon

. Jerks his shoulders up and head back, Sometimes happens while he’s repeating what someone else said ^

. He repeats things under his breath a lot, mostly short phrases based on what he’s heard or if something is stuck in his head

. So he will sit there and go “bugs bugs bugs bugs bugs” after hearing someone complain about a bug infestation

. Sorry people, but he will grope and go “honk honk” a pillow, blanket, someone’s face, breast, thigh, or rear. Also on the list of hated tics.

. Swats at his nose like there’s a fly

. Chattering his teeth

. Jerks his arms forward and grabby hands.

. Grabs whatever is closest and either yeets that shit or holds it, and you are not escaping if he grabs ahold of you ^

. Very quietly whispers “shwing” under his breath

. Sits up like he’s awake and then flops to the side

. Rolls eyes, No he’s not annoyed or being a shit, they just be rollin’

. Flashing. Sometimes he just grabs the bottom of his shirt and jerks it up, and that’s on the list of most hated tics

Verbal tics would include

. Whistling

. Repeating

. “Pat pat pat-”

. Chattering

. “Whore”

. “Look! Surprise!”

. “I’ll fuckin kill ya”

. “Oh look, its a cunt”

. “puussyyyy-”

. “Shwing”

. Gagging like he’s gonna vomit

. Screaming

. “I’m awake”

. “Can I have a water?”

. “I sware I’m awake”

. “Dandruff raaiiiinnn” as he proceeds to lean forward and scratch his head like he’s shaking all the dandruff from his hair

. Sighs a lot, annoys sigh, dramatic sigh, sad sigh, just sighing. a lot. Probably the least noticeable tic

Overall toby is no doubt an adorable edition to to the slender mansion, despite what some of the other pastas might say

P.s. none of this is canon, so don’t take seriously if you don’t want to so don’t hate if you do take it somewhere else.

P.s.s go check out Circe’s origin story on archive of our own. It’s called rabbits are not what they seen.

I hope you all enjoyed, I’ll see you soon. Bye 👋🏻