#i think the real answer is none of the above and this will never be addressed in canon

[firestorm09890]

had a thought just now

what if one of the reasons why Ienzo is so jarringly chipper (and far more casual in speech, mannerisms, and posture than Zexion) in DDD and KH3 is because before, for basically all his life, he was vying for the attention of someone he looked up to (whether it be Ansem or Even or Xehanort/Xemnas) and competing with his peers, and made sure to act seriously and with the confidence you would expect of an experienced, aged veteran rather than someone his actual age (because you know how it is with adults and treating people younger than them as inferior)

but post-recompletion there's no one to compete with except himself and no mentor to impress until Ansem comes back

[veritasangel]

⋆ ｡⋆ fem pov ୨୧˚ warnings: none ↣ {wc: 1.5k}

older knight! simon - one︱two︱three︱four︱five︱six

a/n: this series still has a few more parts with a bonus one at the end, but i'm going to delay them a little so you guys don't get sick of me lmao

The cottage you're in for your honeymoon was picturesque, a quaint little refuge tucked away from the rest of the world. The ivy-covered walls, soft chirping of birds and the fresh air felt like some much deserved peace.

You and Simon stepped out onto the sun-dappled path as you walked together. Hands entwined as you walked towards the meadow that stretched before you. The sky above was a canvas of endless blue sprinkled with cotton clouds crossing lazily across the horizon. The air held the sweet scent of blooms mingling with freshly cut grass.

"Isn't it magical?" you said, your voice tender in the gentle breeze. You smiled up at him, the sun catching in his eyes and turning them into pools of liquid gold. "It's like we've stepped into a fairy tale," you whispered, leaning into his warmth with happiness threatening to spill over the edges of your heart.

Fairy tales aren't real.

Or at least that's what he would've said before, but now- seeing how you look at him, it makes him think they might be.

"I think you're a fairy tale," he said, his voice gentle.

Simon's words wrapped around you in a soft embrace. You reached out and brushed your fingers against his cheek, marvelling at the tenderness that had come so naturally between you two.

"And you're my knight in shining armour," you returned, teasing the idea with a smile. "You rescued me from a life that I didn't know needed saving. You've given me the happiness I've been dreaming of."

He led you to a blanket spread under the shade of a willow tree. Its long, sweeping branches formed a natural canopy that made a private haven for just the two of you. "I didn't 'rescue' you. You've always been able to handle yourself just fine without me."

“Must you always be so- practical... Can't you just take a compliment?” you chuckled lightly.

Simon flopped onto his back, propping himself up on one elbow as he turned to look at you. "It's just hard to get used to the feeling that a person like you views me so highly, I suppose," he admitted, his voice tinged with awe.

You reached out, your fingers trailing gently along his arm. "Well, you'd better get used to it," you teased, "It's going to be a common occurrence in this marriage. No more self deprecation." you said as you cupped his face and waited for him to nod.

Slowly, purposefully, Simon nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I promise," he said, his voice steady and resolute. "I will see myself through your eyes, and I will believe in the man you see."

He sat back up, as he reached into the hamper, grabbing a bottle of rosé and two glasses. He poured out the liquid, effervescent in the and handed you a glass.

"To us," he toasted, his eyes never leaving yours.

"To our forever," you replied, your glass touching his softly.

As you took a sip, the sweetness of the drink mixed with the loving air of this moment, and Simon swept a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers continued on to trace the line of your jaw, and that tenderness, that made your heart flutter.

"Is this the first time you've ever felt truly relaxed?" you couldn't help but ask.

Simon acted like he was thinking about the answer, and he felt his face flush because it was an immediate yes in his head. He knows you can see through him, especially when you laugh after his extended contemplation.

"I can tell." you began as you rested a hand on his shoulder, "You're not tense- You're going with the flow…Your hair is-."

"Hey- what's wrong with my hair?" he interrupts with a chuckle, a hand on his chest in mock offence.

"Nothing's wrong with it," you teased, a twinkle in your eye. "It's just a bit… unruly. But in a charming, carefree way."

Simon laughed, shaking his head. "Unruly? I think that's a fancy way of saying I look like a mess."

You playfully ruffled his hair. "A handsome mess," you corrected, your voice gentle. "It suits you—But, if you want, I can cut it for you, maybe help you shave too."

Simon raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. "And let you take a blade to my face? You must think I'm a lot braver than I am."

You chuckled, lightly brushing your thumb across his lower lip. "I promise I'll be gentle. Besides, you've handled far more dangerous things. A little shave shouldn't scare you."

"But a razor in the hands of my beloved? That's a different kind of terror." Simon joked.

You giggled, leaning closer. "Shush, I'll be careful, I swear."

He smiled, sidewise, cocking his head a bit. "As for the haircut…what if you cut it lopsided?"

You playfully pouted at him, giving him a sort of mock-stern face. "Well, then I guess you'll just have to charm everyone with your rugged appearance. It's a good thing you're a knight with a silver tongue."

He smiled at you, a contented silence filling the air. You leaned back against a tree, and he rested his head on your lap as you both burrowed under the shade of a willow tree.

"Well, I suppose if it looks bad, that's just an excuse to extend our honeymoon…you know, to let it grow back out?" he quipped, a smirk on his face.

You laughed softly and gently ran your fingers through his hair as he rested his head on your lap. "A clever excuse indeed. You always seem to find a way to turn any situation into an opportunity for more time together."

His eyes locked with yours, shining with merriment. "You caught me," he said, his lips playing with the thought of a smile. "But can you blame me? Every moment with you feels like a precious gift."

You smiled and then bent down to place a tender kiss on his forehead. "Well, if that's your intention, I'm certainly not about to argue. I'm quite fond of these lazy afternoons with you."

Simon sighed, very satisfied, and closed his eyes. He felt a moment of satisfaction. "I could stay here forever," he said, his voice only just above a whisper. "With you, everything feels different. Lighter. You make everything feel right. Like we were always meant to be here, in this moment, together."

It was then that you knew this honeymoon wasn't going to be a brief phase, but a lifetime of treasured memories. A soft breeze stirred the willow branches above, and your fingertips moved along his jaw. "I've been thinking," you said softly, "this cottage is cute, homely."

Simon's eyes opened once more. He looked at you steadily, sensing the change in your mind. "Go on," he said, his voice low with anticipation.

"Perhaps, a good place for a family," you mumbled, the words laced with hope. It felt like a thin thread arcing from the present into a future that the two of them had only dared dream about. Of course it's not like Simon wasn't already trying to get you pregnant, but voicing it aloud like this felt different.

Simon had already imagined it a thousand times, that morning alone. As nice as the castle is, with all those grand halls and bustling corridors. The privacy of a cottage does offer something more intimate, more serene. He could picture the laughter of children, echoing through the meadows, in wildflowers and rustling leaves, with tiny feet darting between sunlit patches of grass.

He turned his face a bit upwards towards you; his expression was tender as he gave you a soft smile. "I've thought about it too," he confessed; his voice was warm with emotion. "There's something about this cottage that has just felt right, a perfect little haven. It's peaceful."

Simon's eyes gleamed with tenderness and longing. "I already see us here, building our own traditions, filling this place with our own memories," he said, very serious, and reached out to sit up, his finger gliding along your cheek.

There was a flutter in your stomach at the thought of it, imagining Simon in that family role. "I'd love that," you whispered. You leaned in close and then rested your forehead to his, embracing this lovely picture of the future. "Let's make it our home."

Simon leaned forward, brushing his lips across yours to give you a light, gentle kiss. His eyes gleamed, full of love and a determination almost palpable, as he pulled back to look at you. "We'll make it everything we've ever hoped for," he vowed.

You both fell silent then, your shared vision settling about you like a warmth. The sun, wrapped the meadow in a golden glow and cast a shimmering halo about the two of you.

Here, on this honeymoon with you, he felt the truth of something he had once doubted. Fairy tales must be real, for he knows now that he's living in one.

༄ taglist:

@nijiru @lostrosemary @terralupa @vmaxis @alucardsdaddyissues

@s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @faridathefairy @lillysfrogsandbogs @backgroundgirl887 @dutch3-10

༄ cod m.list

© veritasangel ↣ 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴

[melobin]

જ⁀➴ mirror 𐙚 sungchan

warnings - smut, dom!sungchan, mirror sex, strength kink, size kink, oral f receiving, unprotected sex, praise, dacryphilia, manhandling, choking, big dick!sungchan

wc - 3k

summary - you and sungchan stay in a hotel for the night where there’s a continently placed mirror above the bed.

a/n - a conversation with my love @neosvcr occurred and now this is here! very sorry to my friends over at the discord server …..

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

“i’ve never seen a mirror above a bed before” sungchan looked over at you as he emerged from the bathroom, a plain white towel wrapped low around his hips. if you weren’t so distracted by the mirror you would’ve been drooling over him.

“really?”

“mhm” your eyes travelled from the ceiling to your boyfriend, shamelessly flicking straight to his abs. there were still a few droplets of water slowly sliding down them, you let your mouth water at the sight of him “what is it even used for? it’s not very practical” sungchan laughed at your question.

“are you checking me out?” you could only hum in response as you watched him pick up a different towel and bring it to his hair, drying as much of it as he could. his biceps flexed as he done it, toned arms being on full show for you to enjoy “what do you think they use it for, love?” you simply hummed again, too distracted on watching him to answer. he looked up at you and smiled “perv”.

“it’s not my fault” he threw the towel he used for his hair onto the chair in the room and walked over to the bed, sitting next to where you were perched up against the headboard. he brought his hand to your face, brushing your hair out of it before cupping your jaw. he took note of the way your thighs clenched together the closer he got to you.

“then whos fault is it?” his hand fell from your jaw to your bare thigh, mentally thanking you for putting on one of his shirts. it both drowned you and exposed you all at the same time, the shirt being baggy over your skin but the sleeve falling down your right arm exposing your shoulder to him. his shirts always rode up your thighs, especially when you were sat down. it gave him easy access to the parts of you he loved teasing the most.

“yours? why would it be mine? i’m not the one in the gym everyday just because my best friend beat me in an arm wrestle once” sungchan narrowed his eyes at you.

“well he hasn’t beat me since has he? none of them have”

“i know, it’s hot” you placed your hand on his shoulder and let it slide down his arm, stopping on his muscle to dig your fingers into it lightly “you know i love how strong you are, channie” 

“of course i do baby” he leaned forward to press an open mouthed kiss against the exposed skin of your shoulder, hand moving up and squeezing your thigh “my sweet girl” his kisses slowly trailed from your shoulder to your neck, fingers inching toward your panties. “so little and fragile” he pressed the pads of them against your clothed clit, slowly rubbing his fingers up and down the material as he sucked on the skin just below your ear “could break you if i wanted to”.

you whimpered at what he was doing, sungchan always knew how to push your buttons and work you up. he studied your body intense, learning all the ways to make you tick and always used them against you immediately after. he claimed working you up was just a way to make things feel even better for you, but you knew he just enjoyed teasing you. he could be so evil sometimes. 

“why don’t i show you why people have mirrors above their bed, hm? promise ill fuck you real good” he put more pressure against your clit, he was practically moaning his words into your ear. it done nothing to dull the throb he was creating between your legs. 

“please” you whimpered, he pulled away from your neck to look at you. pushing your panties aside with his fingers to feel your soaked cunt directly, he practically hissed when he felt how wet you were. he circled your clit whilst he leaned in to kiss you, lips moulding perfectly against yours. tongue slotting into your mouth when your lips parted to let out a moan. the kiss carried on for a short while before he was pulling away. 

“you’re so wet, did you get that worked up from watching me?” your fingers fell from his biceps to his wrist, wrapping around it as his fingers sped up. your hips bucked slightly against his hand, small whines leaving your lips. 

“you’re just so pretty, channie, can’t help it” your words are broken and slurred, you were a wreck already but to him you were the cutest thing. he found it even cuter when you whined as he pulled his fingers off of you. instead they climbed up your body, under the shirt you were wearing in order to pull it over your head, every part of him adored the fact you lacked clothing underneath. bare tits on display for him. 

“lay down for me, baby” you followed his instructions, laying down properly on the bed, letting your head fall against the pillow before looking at him. he stood up and let his towel fall to the floor, his cock was already hard, it struggled to hold itself up with how heavy it was. precum leaking down the sides, coating his bulging veins. just the sight of sungchan’s cock made you whine, countless memories of how he’d use it to drive you to the bring of insanity with sharp, deep thrusts clouded your mind. you could never get enough of him. 

you expected him to kneel up between your legs and slide his cock into you, but he didn’t. instead he moved to lay down between your legs, hands grabbing the top of your inner thighs inorder to spread your legs further apart. he littered small, open mouthed kisses along the skin of your inner thigh before looking up at you to meet your eyes. his fingers hooked over the waist band of your panties, he pulled them down your legs and let them fall to the floor, almost moaning when he felt how soaked they were. he was quick to return back to his former position

“mmm” he hummed for a moment, digging his fingers a little deeper into your thighs “don’t watch me, just lay back and look into the mirror” you met your own eyes in the mirror above you, your reflection looking back at you. the position let you see sungchan too, or well the back of him. still, your boyfriends back was one of the hottest things about him, especially after you had raked your nails down it as he fucked you. there was excitement lacing through your veins at the idea of being able to see the way his back flexed through the mirror as he fucked you. 

the feeling of his tongue against your cunt brought you out of the daze you were entering, sungchan never held back when he ate you out and you knew he wasn’t going to tonight. his tongue flicked against your swollen clit teasingly, he almost whined as the taste of you filled his mouth. you were always so sweet, always melted delciously on his tongue, it was one of the reasons he always called you his sweet girl. he meant it literally.

sungchan dragged his tongue down your slit, pushing it inside you just to collect more of your slick on your tongue before licking back up to your clit and swirling it around it. he loved making you as wet as possible, nothing was hotter to him than making a complete mess of you. and he always did, especially when he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked on it until you felt light headed. he placed a hand against your lower stomach to keep you in place whilst he done it.

it was then that your hands went to his hair, he was quick to grab one of them with his free hand and lace your fingers together, squeezing your hand as he continued sucking on your clit, tongue flicking over it. the sight in the reflection seemed filthy. it felt weird watching yourself be ravaged by your boyfriend, but it was hot. something about it felt so intimate and sensual. just the image of you sweating a little, one hand in his and the other in his hair and your body squirming as much as it could under his grip was surreal. you were starting to understand why people enjoyed using mirrors so much.

you felt his hand leave your stomach, moments later he had two fingers pressing into you, your cunt welcoming them eagerly. with how already drenched you were, his fingers slid inside of you easily. he thrust them into you slowly to begin with, that was until he was finger fucking you with his lips wrapped around your clit. fingers curling inside of you, being long enough to press perfectly against the spongy spot that laid deep within your walls. you were a mess, the intensity of the please had your head spinning, you could barely keep your eyes open to focus on the reflection above you.

you were falling apart, your sanity drifting away as you grew closer to spilling onto his tongue. he knew it too. he could tell by the way your moans grew louder, how you pulled a little harder on his hair and how you squeezed his hand impossibly hard to the point it almost hurt him. he loved it though, adored the fact he was pushing you into such a state of ecstasy that you could barely control your actions.

once you were cumming around his fingers you were lost, your eyes shut themselves as you were pushed over the edge. his tongue flicking non stop against your clit, fingers curling resulting in an embarrassingly loud squelching sound to echo throughout the hotel room. your moans almost overpowered the sound of it, especially when you were at the peak of your high. everything felt so intense, it left you shaking when you were coming down from it.

he pressed an open mouthed kiss onto your clit as he slipped his fingers out of you, he knelt back on his knees and looked down at you fondly. your gaze was set on the mirror above you, eyes flicking over your own body in the reflection. you looked so fucked out, sungchan thought you looked pretty like this and he hoped you thought it too.

“so sweet” his fingers ran over your skin, hand still in yours “my sweet girl, gonna fuck you so good, just like i promised” he settled himself properly between your thighs, he held the base of his cock with his hand and pressed it against your cunt. he lifted it before slapping it against your clit, laughing at the way you whined and jolted at the sudden action.

sungchan leaned over you, keeping your hand in his and pinning it against the pillow next to your head. he leaned down to kiss you softly, lips only pressing against yours for a brief few seconds before he was pulling them off of yours and shifting his cock to line up with your hole. he looked down at you whilst he pressed the tip inside of you, his lips parted as he felt you squeeze around him.

“need to relax, baby” he breathed out, already feeling overwhelmed by how wet and warm you were “can’t fit me inside if you’re too tense” you nodded at him, trying your hardest to keep your eyes on his as he stretched you out, easing himself deeper with a gentle whine. you could’ve came just from the sounds he was making, nothing was prettier than the way sungchan moaned when his cock was pressed deep inside of you.

sungchan grabbed your other hand and pinned it on the pillow the other side of your head, keeping you in place with your hands in his. his head found its way into the crook of your neck, hips pressed against yours as he tried to relax himself. you’d swallowed his cock whole, took every inch of him with ease. sungchan remembered the time you struggled to take even half of his cock, now you were here taking all of him eagerly. he was proud but so overwhelmed, nothing compared to the feeling of your soaked little cunt wrapped around his cock.

it only took a few sharp thrusts for your eyes to find the mirror, the reflection showed something that you could only describe as completely sinful. sungchan’s back flexed with each thrust, your legs were wrapped around his waist pushing him deeper into you. it turned you on endlessly, sungchan was sure he felt you gushing around him, clenching with every other thrust. it turned him into a mess. his moans fell into your neck, groaning a little deeper each time you tightened your cunt around him.

“you’re so fucking wet” sungchan found the strength to lift his head out of your neck, pace of his thrusts increasing slightly as he looked at you, finding your eyes glued to the ceiling. they were dark, he was sure he had never seen you so turned on before, so soaked and dazed “you like watching yourself get fucked, baby?” you moaned, eyes barely flicking away from the mirror to meet his eyes, he pressed a soft kiss against your jaw, noticing the way your eyes had filled with tears.

“feel good?” you nodded, whimpering the moment your lips parted when you tried to talk. sungchan’s hips bucked a little harder against yours, a tear fell from your eye at the contact. you felt swollen, poor pussy being fucked raw by him, the feeling was surreal, the pleasure more intense than ever “fuck, you look so pretty when you cry” he leaned down to press a soft kiss against the tear that fell from your eye before slowing his thrusts down, lifting himself up and pulling out of you. you could only whimper at the sudden emptiness you felt.

“what’s wrong?” his heart melted at the way you asked him, your eyes wide and cautious as you watched him. he smiled at you.

“want you to ride me” god, if there was one thing you knew sungchan adored, it was having you ride him. he loved taking control even when you were on top of him, somehow he always found a way to grab you and fuck his cock up into you. it sent you to heaven every time without fail.

he sat down, having part of his back resting against the headboard. he was slouched, he beckoned you to sit on his lap. once you did he grabbed you, it was as if he manhandled you so your back was against his chest. “gonna watch you get fucked together, okay? need to see my pretty girl fall apart” you gulped back a whine at his words, he held his arms around your waist as you reached down to hold his cock, trying your hardest in your shaky state to line him up with you. 

a whimper left you as you sank down on his cock, hands holding onto his toned forearms as you took all of him. the familiar warmth instantly filling you again. your nails dug into his skin when you felt him thrust up lightly into you, your body moulded against his. you met his eyes through the mirror, his eyes looked clouded over, as if he was in a state of delirium. sungchan simply thought that what he was looking at was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen, he needed to wreck you.

he placed his feet flat on the bed, one of his arms leaving your waist so he could wrap his hand around your neck, his other hand fell to your clit as he thrusted up into you. his grip on your neck was tight as he fucked you, cock fucking into you quite fast with strength behind his thrusts. you were dizzy and that only grew as he groaned into your ear.

“you’re so fucking perfect” his eyes never left your body as he fucked up into you, fingers rubbing constant circles on your clit. if he wasn’t as strong as he was, you were sure you would’ve slipped off of his body with how much you were trying to squirm. the overwhelming pleasure made it hard to keep still “you look so little against me, fuck, you drive me insane” he practically groaned his words out.

he was right, it only made you clench around his more as you watched the way his body almost devoured yours. he was ruining you, inside and out, in the best ways possible. everything mixed together left you on the verge of cumming around his cock, yet it was impossible for you to tell him. moans slipped from your lips, you could see the way his cock disappeared inside of you through the mirror and somehow the visual of it only made it harder for you to keep your moans to yourself. sungchan had a good sense of your body though, being able to tell when you were on the edge.

“cum, baby, need you to see how pretty you look when you cum” sungchan’s voice was strained, he was holding himself off from pressing his cock inside of you and filling you with his cum. but he couldn’t, not yet, he needed to watch you cum first. and he did. he watched you squeeze around his cock, felt you dig your nails into his arm as he fucked you through your orgasm, his cum spilling into you only moments after.

his arms wrapped around your waist as you tried to calm down, your thighs shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. your eyes met his in the mirror again, there was a soft smile on his face. both of you were fucked out, on the edge of delirious, but that didn’t stop you from asking him an important question.

“so, when are we getting one?”

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

tag list - @ma-riiii @choqolei @addictedtohobi @strayghibli @seokeuns @productiwity @swaggyjinnie @kvstjwonnie @xushigyu @daebin @saintzdoll @hyucksdelicate @shotaroswifeyily @imthisclosetokms @wccycc @gyuvision @seotired @kvstjwonnie @yeolwrld @shawnyle

fill out this form to be apart of my permanent tag list

[rainingfishandfrogs]

can we talk about octavia's line in the S2b trailer?

because what i find so interesting here is that blitzø has expressed he knows stolas loves him even if he can't fully believe it

and self-sabotages to end the conversation bc it got too real

but stolas himself hasn't used those words at all - in full moon he dance around them, he implies those feelings (albeit heavily)

and i find this interesting bc the way octavia says her line (which is hurt and accusing) sorta makes me think stolas has never actually named his feelings towards blitzø even to himself

blitzø names them and octavia names them, but stolas himself doesn't and even when blitzø expressed his confusion over why stolas would even feel this way:

stolas doesn't...give a concrete answer?

like that is a nice answer bc it's calling out blitzø's self-sabotage in a way but it's still missing the root of the question:

why?

how?

what about me makes you love me?

and bc these two don't really know each other outside the bedroom or stolas being in danger, it makes me think stolas' sober answer to this would point out things blitzø has done for him:

played bodyguard i.e. "protected him"

helped him figure out he's fucking gay "awakened him"

gave him a friendly afternoon "my first ever friend"

or he'd repeat his implied sentiment that he "likes blitzø for blitzø" which also does. not. answer that question

bc none of the above speaks directly about blitzø the person and i just find it so interesting that arguably the most tragically romantic character in the show...hasn't told the man he loves that he loves him and why

concretely

in actual descriptive words

naming shit about blitzo himself (e.g. "you're protective", not "you protected me")

and this is something i strongly believe blitzø will need to hear before he can fully trust that stolas' feelings toward him are real and not a by product of what he can do

that his bird isn't going to abandon him bc of who he is bc who he is is what's making him stay and here's the proof bitch

[inkykeiji]

do you think dabi pre-touya reveal cut his own hair??? i feel like toga might offer to do it for him—his bangs are getting too long, tangling in his eyelashes with each blink, stare obstructed by strands of ink—but he’s so secretive and wary and distrustful that i can’t see him allowing her anywhere near his hair, lest she find some white strands and inevitably start pelting him with questions + clawing for answers,,, which of course runs the risk of raising the interest and intrigue of their fellow members, the league too curious for their own good about the elusive and enigmatic dabi,,,

i just love the idea of him standing in some dingy bathroom, the mirror grimy and cracked, with a pair of barber shears in his hand, just snipping away unevenly at his hair until he thinks it looks somewhat presentable. it’s jagged, but it works, the once soft and fluffy tufts gone brittle and hard from the constant cheap box dye, black still staining the lines of his fingernails and the grooves of his palms. that they don’t ask about, thankfully.

his father’s eyes stare back at him beneath the flickering lightbulb, raw and exposed above the sink. he’s still the prettiest todoroki, even with the scars and the stitches and the rigid spikes of hair.

he’s still the prettiest todoroki, but sometimes he can’t stand the sight of himself, too much todoroki in his face, his voice, his mind. it’s in the way he walks, the way he talks, the way he thinks, recollects, responds. it’s in the way his nose scrunches up and his lips tug down and his brows push together when he’s upset, when he’s offended, when he doesn’t get his way. it’s in the way his eyes observe, glare, absorb, sapphire glinting with judgement or accusation or terror beneath the dim, shivering light, his father’s disapproval, disappointment, staring back at him. it’s in the way he smiles—slightly crazed, never fully happy, never fully natural or real or right, too sharp and stark to be friendly or welcoming.

it’s in every part of him, and no amount of black dye and warped skin and gold metal will ever be able to conceal that.

or so he had thought.

but Daddy hasn’t recognized him—not on the news when he killed snatch, not in the street when he came to collect that godforsaken nomu. little baby shouto hasn’t realized, either, not even when he heard his voice or saw his smile or looked straight into his eyes; his eyes, half-shared. natsuo and fuyumi and mom, none of them have reached out, despite the fact that they’ve undoubtedly seen him, on the television and in the papers and on their social media feeds, scrolled past without a second glance.

there’s so much todoroki in him, but they still aren’t looking.

[witchybitchycrybaby]

And they were neighbors...

Benjicot Blackwood x modern!fem!Bracken!reader

Warnings: none, it's just pure fluff, modern au

Words: 1,3k

✨✨✨

Benjicot Blackwood groaned as his alarm buzzed on the nightstand, effectively interrupting his sleep. He slapped it off and lay back, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His thoughts, as usual, drifted to his best friend, his next-door neighbor, his... whatever you were to him. The Bracken girl, on top of that.

His parents would probably go bananas if they knew he had feelings for you.

Sure, your families couldn't stand each other, everybody in your small neighborhood knew that, but for Benji that war no longer mattered when it came to you. He thought about the way you looked at him, the way you always had an answer whenever he said something unhinged, and that smile… oh, that smile. He was whipped, completely and utterly.

How you managed to get so deep under his skin was beyond his understanding.

He'd had a crush on you for as long as he could remember. He never said a word about it before, though. He liked being your friend and he was afraid of ruining your relationship. The thought of you not reciprocating his feelings was always in the back of his head, so he simply kept quiet.

Today, however... Oh, screw it, it was high time to take the risk.

Benji rolled over and grabbed his phone from the bedside table. With his hair tousled on the pillow, eyes still half-closed, and a lazy smirk on his lips, he snapped a picture. He looked exactly how he wanted to feel: confident, yet charming. Perfect. He added a caption: "So, what’s it like living next to the most handsome guy ever?"

With a deep breath, he hit send. He quickly tossed the phone away as if it burned him. You two were used to each others smartass remarks, but flirting was an entirely different level. Seconds felt like hours, and he started to question his impulsiveness. What if you didn't get the hint? What if you thought hr was being weird? What if you didn't respond, choosing to ignore him? His heart pounded in his chest, and his mind creating the worst-case scenarios wasn't helping at all.

Finally, his phone buzzed. He grabbed it, expecting the worst. His heart skipped a beat as he opened the message.

"No idea. I'm pretty sure there's no one in our neighborhood that matches the description."

Benji's heart raced as he read your reply. It was good, really good even. You didn't make fun of him, you just took the chellange. He could work with that. His finger hovered above the screen, trying to come up with a response, when another message from you popped up.

This time, it was a picture. You were also still in bed, your hair a mess, eyes half-closed, looking even sleepier than him. You were clutching a pillow with a playful smile on your lips. His breath hitched in his throat. You were stunning.

"I figured I'd return the favor," you texted then. He grinned as his heart did a little flip.

"Cute," he replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could. "But I still look better."

"In your dreams, Blackwood."

"You are in my dreams, Bracken."

There was a pause before you texted back: "Cheesy much?"

"For you? Always."

He stopped for a second. Biting his lip, he thought of doing something riskier. The only thing he was worried about was your reaction.

"Speaking of dreams," he started again after a minute. "I dreamt I stole your pillow. I guess mine's just not as comfy."

There it was. He sent it. And you read it.

There was a brief pause before you answered, but when you did, relief poured over him

"Of course you'd want my pillow, my bed is generally way better, you know. It's not my fault you can't get some decent pillows."

"Nah, it's just the pillow. I've got the coziest setup, Bracken. You'd fall asleep in seconds."

"You're delusional," you texted, and he could imagine you laughing in your room. "I'd show you real cozy, but my bed is off-limits to annoying neighbors."

"I think you meant 'annoyingly charming'", he typed, his smile growing wider. "Admit it, Bracken, you'd let me join you if I asked nicely."

Your reply came quickly, "If you weren't so annoying, maybe, I'd have to think about."

This was it, the opening he was waiting for. Benji took a deep breath and went for it. "Alright, I promise to be on my best behavior. Now, would you be so kind, my lady, and open your window?"

That threw you off a bit. "Why?" You texted, your eyebrows furrowed.

Only seconds after you sent your message, you heard a soft rustling outside. Moving to the window, you pulled back the curtain to see Benji, climbing up to your window with a mischievous grin. Your eyes widened in shock at the sight.

"What the hell, Benji?" you whisper-shouted, quickly opening the window.

"Good morning to you too, y/n," he whispered back, there was a glint of mischief in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the smile creeping onto your face. "Are you crazy? If my parents find out you're here, they'll kill you. And then my dad will resurrect you just to kill you again."

Benji chuckled softly. "They'd have to catch me first. Now, are you going to help me in, or are you going to let me fall and have my ghost haunt you for the rest of your life?"

"You're insane", you said but grabbed his arm and helped him climb into your room. He landed softly on your carpet, glancing around your room. "Cozy," he said, sitting on your bed and bouncing slightly on the mattress.

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. "What do you think you're doing?"

He stretched out on your bed, hands behind his head. "Testing the coziness, of course. You did say your bed was better, remember?"

You shook your head, sitting next to him. "You know, you could've just walk through the front door? Like a normal human being, Benji. Climbing through my window is a bit... dramatic."

Benji turned to look at you. "Yeah, but where's the fun in that? Besides, I needed to make sure I had your full attention."

You sighed, but there was no hiding the smile that appeared at your lips. "You've got it. Now what?"

He sat up, closer to you now, the playfulness in his eyes replaced by something more serious. "I like you, Bracken. A lot. More than a friend should like a friend. And I get it, our families, the whole feud thing... but I don't care about any of that when it comes to you. I just... I needed to tell you."

You stared at him, your eyes wide in shock and surprise. You though your mind glitched, trying to process his words. He looked so vulnerable now that he had exposed himself and his feelings. "Benji, I..."

But before you could say something more, he cut you off with a nervous laugh. "I know, it's crazy. I just... I needed to tell you."

Your hand reached out and grabbed his. You gave it a soft squeeze and intertwined your fingers. "No, it's not crazy. Actually... To be completely honest, I feel the same way too."

"You-you do?" He stuttered.

"Yeah. I guess I was just scared to say anything because of our families and all that. But... I’m glad you did."

A slow smile spread across his face, lightening it up. "Me too."

He leaned in slightly, his eyes searching yours. "So, does this mean I get to stay? Not just for the comfy bed, I mean."

You laughed, the sound filling the room. Oh, he could listen to it for eternity. "Yes, Benji. You get to stay."

He grinned, closing the distance between you. "Good," he whispered, before pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss. It was brief but for Benji it was enough.

For now.

[starlightkun]

❧ word count: 26.1k ❧ genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, paranormal/supernatural au, ghost!jisung ❧ warnings: mentions of death, prominent side character dies early in the fic, depictions of grieving, family member of the reader is sick (it’s dementia-like, though the disease is never named in the fic), family tension/drama (reader has some family members that are not very nice to her), reader has some sleep/physical health issues at one point, reader is just really going through it in this fic for a while ❧ extra info: the reader’s mom in this has early-onset memory issues; i didn’t name a specific disease because im not a medical expert of any kind and didn’t want to misrepresent any real-life illness in this fic. i combined both my own experiences with my own family members who have had these kinds of illnesses and some research, but i am not an expert and the representation in this fic may not be entirely accurate! ❧ author’s note: i don’t think i’ve done a spooky fic like this before? but this one was super fun! also i will say it takes a little bit for jisung to show up, so please be patient when you don’t see him in the first few scenes, he’ll be there, i promise! ❧ sequel

That night, the rain was still pounding against the windows. Your mom had gone to bed a while ago, but your mind was restless. Something had happened again as you were helping your mom get ready for bed. Your stepdad’s reading glasses, which were on the nightstand on his side of their bed, as they had been since he passed, had fallen off with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Not wanting your mom to get spooked about the house again, you reassured her that you had just bumped into the furniture—her back was turned when they fell—but it left you with an uneasy feeling.

“Hi, Hyukjun.” You picked up the phone call from your stepdad as you headed back towards your office building from the restaurant you’d taken your lunch break at.

“Hi, sweetheart. How are you?” His warm, familiar voice was on the other end as always, though there was something different about it, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on from the quality of your phone speaker. Your steps slowed thoughtfully as you listened more attentively, a pit growing in your stomach.

“I’m good,” you answered shortly, suspicion creeping over you. “How are you two?”

It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate hearing from your stepdad, you were on good terms with him. Your father passed when you were a little girl, and your mom continued to raise you on her own, not even considering any romantic prospects until you graduated high school. She and Hyukjun only dated for six months before marrying and had been happily married since. Hyukjun was a mild-mannered divorcee with three adult sons of his own, all of whom were at least a decade older than you, and none of which you were exceptionally close with. When your mom had been diagnosed only five years into their marriage, he began taking care of her—no question and no complaints. With her condition, you were fairly certain that you visited them more than Hyukjun’s own kids did, despite all of them living nearby to your knowledge.

He at least didn’t beat around the bush anymore. “She’s getting worse, Y/N.”

“How bad?”

“She thinks the house is haunted,” he admitted. “And I…”

“What?” You prompted him.

“She’s been asking for you. I know you’re busy, but if you could visit soon, I think it’d really help her.”

“Yeah, I have some time this weekend,” you agreed immediately. “I’ll be there.”

“Thanks.”

You were arriving at the building then, slowing to a stop outside as you prepared to hang up. “My break is ending, Hyukjun, I’ve got to go.”

“Of course,” he acquiesced. “Hey, I love you.”

“I love you too.” You looked up at the gray storm clouds gathering in the sky above you. “And tell Mom I love her, and I’ll be there soon.”

“I will. Have a good rest of your day at work, sweetheart.”

“Right. Bye.”

When your mom and Hyukjun got married, you already had a lease on a small place closer to your job in the city, so your mom sold your childhood home and moved in with Hyukjun. Despite the small twinge of sadness at her selling your childhood home, the place where you, your mom, and dad had all been together, you were happy that she was no longer there by herself. Their home was a quaint two-story, two-bedroom townhome, with well-tended flowerbeds and a porch swing out front. A long time ago, you knew that this house had been your stepbrothers’ childhood home, the three of them sharing what was now the guest room, Hyukjun and his ex-wife occupying the primary bedroom that was now his and your mother’s. Hyukjun had been divorced for many years before he met your mom, you didn’t know the exact number off the top of your head—you weren’t sure if you had ever been told.

The snapdragons were in bloom, stalks of purples and blues and pinks, and you squatted down next to one. Feeling a bit like a child, you gently squeezed the sides of one flower to make the “mouth” of the dragon open, like Hyukjun had shown you one of the first times you’d met, the very first time you ever went to his house. The front door opened, and you looked up to see your stepdad stepping out of the house. You stood up, walking up the three short steps from the sidewalk to meet him on their porch.

“I saw you coming up the street,” he explained, gesturing to the front window. “It’s good to see you, Y/N.”

“Hi, Hyukjun.” You hugged him. “Good to see you too.”

“I just wanted to give you a heads up. She’s calm, but she’s not exactly… here,” he explained. “I didn’t want you to be caught off-guard.”

You nodded in understanding. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”

Following your stepdad into the house, he guided you towards the living room at the back of the house.

“Hon?” He poked his head into the living room.

Your mom looked up from where she had been reading a book in an armchair, her face breaking into a gentle smile. “Oh, Sangwoo, you’re back.”

“Yes, I picked Y/N up, just like you asked.” Your stepdad stepped aside to let her see you.

You pushed aside the alarms going off in your mind to give your mother as calm of a smile as you could, approaching her with your hand outstretched. “Hi, Mom, it’s Y/N.”

“Y/N, hi, sweetie.” She beamed at you, taking your hand that was offered and squeezing it tight. “How was school?”

“It was good, I had a good day,” you answered brightly. Looking down at the book in her lap, you asked, “What are you reading?”

Your mother had been a Literature teacher for all her life, before her diagnosis forced her to retire many years before she ever wanted to. She would read to you at any opportunity when you were a kid, especially at bedtime. It was always easiest to get her talking now about whatever book she was reading, no matter where her mind was.

“Oh, I’ll tell you about it later. First, do you have homework?”

“No, Mom, nothing today.”

Hyukjun cleared his throat then. “You must be hungry, Y/N. Would you like something to eat?”

“Yes, yes, go get a snack.” Your mother insisted.

“Okay,” you acquiesced, giving her hand another tight squeeze. “I’ll be right back after my snack. I want to hear about your book.”

In their kitchen, you turned on your stepdad with wide eyes. “She’s not just mixing up your names anymore, she thinks you are my dad!”

“Sometimes…” Hyukjun nodded, leaning against a kitchen counter. “Not always. She has her lucid days still.”

In the bright kitchen lighting, you could see a certain tiredness in Hyukjun that was new, a pallor in his skin, a hitch in his breaths, a lag in his movements, none of which used to be there.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, eyes locking on his. “With you? You were going to tell me something on the phone, and you didn’t. Tell me.”

He sighed, the sound dragging out into a wheeze and then a hacking cough that he covered in his elbow, and you winced just watching him. When he’d caught his breath again, he answered, “They found a tumor, in my lung. I have maybe six months, Y/N.”

“That’s it?!” You blurted out. “I-I mean, even with chemo, or radiation, or whatever?”

“I’m not—”

“It’s not treatable?”

He cast a sidelong glance down the hall, at the room where your mother was. “Someone needs to take care of her. I need to be here, and after I’m gone, our savings will go towards her care. We can’t spend it all on something that might give me another few months.”

“Another few months with her! With us!” You grabbed his arm, knowing how desperate you sounded. “What about your kids? Do they know what you’re doing?”

“No.” His voice was heavy, but determined. “I know you all don’t talk… but don’t tell them, please.”

His face wavered in your vision as your eyes filled with tears. You tried to swallow them down, but a couple spilled over. “Let me move in, and help. I want to take care of both of you. Please.”

“What about your job?”

“I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about me. You’ve done enough for me, for us. Let me do something for you.”

“Thank you.”

Your work agreed to let you move into a part-time remote position. Most days you were able to get all your done, early even. Not only was Hyukjun there, but a memory care aide named Nayoung came by for an hour three days a week to assist as well.

It had been a month since you moved into the primary bedroom on the second floor, the bedroom that used to be your mom and stepdad’s. You found out that they moved their things into the guest room on the first floor two months ago, when your mom hurt herself on the stairs. It had only been a skinned knee, but Hyukjun didn’t want to risk something worse.

That night you laid in bed with your laptop open, desperately trying to finish up a report that was due the next day. Today had been rougher, your mom needing constant redirection and reorientation, not to mention the conversation that you had with your stepdad earlier this evening. Usually after your mom went to sleep, the two of you would watch a movie or a couple episodes of a show, or just have a drink and chat. It was a nice, slow, easy part of your day with just the two of you. But this time as you rooted around the for the fresh tub of ice cream that you had just bought from the store, and called to him over your shoulder asking if he wanted a bowl, you saw him waiting for you with papers in his hand.

One of the errands he’d sent you on today, in addition to groceries, the post office, and the pharmacy, had been to an attorney’s office. You’d known that, you weren’t stupid. There, you had been handed a large envelope with the law firm’s name embossed on it, and your stepdad’s name typed on a label under that. You didn’t inquire as to the contents of the envelope from the receptionist, nor your stepdad when you delivered it to him upon returning home. It was none of your business. But at the kitchen table that night, he showed you the documents that he had drawn up.

Once he passed, you would own his house, the one that you lived in now, as a life estate pur autre vie. For the life of another. Until your mother passed, you would own his house, and could stay here and take care of her. Then, once she passed, the house would go to his sons, your stepbrothers, as he’d always intended.

You sighed and deleted the sentence you’d just written. “Stupid, stupid,” you muttered to yourself. Looking at the time, you let out another sigh and rubbed your face in exasperation. “I’m never going to fucking finish this.”

Setting the laptop aside, you pushed your covers off yourself and got out of bed. Keeping your footsteps light, you crept downstairs and into the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water. After drinking a whole glass in the kitchen, you refilled it to bring it back up to bedroom with you. Halfway up the stairs, the sconce on the wall next to your head flickered on, making you pause. You’d left all the lights off on your way down. Peering behind the frosted glass cover, you reached your hand back there and tightened the bulb. The light stopped flickering, and you looked around at the empty, dark staircase again. Shrugging to yourself, you finished your journey to your room.

Cutting up your mom’s breakfast into small pieces, you hummed a song that had been stuck in your head. The sound of something clattering startled your peaceful reverie, and your head snapped up immediately. You darted around the kitchen counter to get your eyes on where your mom was sitting at the kitchen table.

“You okay, Mom?” You asked, eyes searching her for any signs of injury or distress.

“Oh, I’m fine, sweetie,” she reassured you, pointing at a point on the floor further away from her. You saw that a silver utensil was gleaming up from the tile. “I dropped my fork, that’s all.”

“I’ll grab you another one when I bring your food in, don’t worry about it,” you reassured her. “Leave it, I’ll pick it up in a sec.”

Returning to the kitchen, you finished cutting her food, then prepared yours and Hyukjun’s plates. Carrying all three of them in, along with your mom’s clean fork, you cocked your head when you saw the fork sitting on the closest edge of the table to the kitchen. Looking at Hyukjun, who had joined your mom at the table in the interim, you said, “You didn’t have to pick up the fork, Hyukjun, I was going to grab it.”

His face betrayed his momentary confusion, looking between the food you just set in front of him, then to the fork on the edge of the table. “That was there when I came in. I didn’t move it.”

As you set your mom’s food down for her, you asked, “Mom, did you get the fork?”

But her eyes had a familiar far-out appearance, and you knew she wasn’t going to be able to answer you. You shook your head at yourself, putting your own plate down and grabbing the dirty fork off the table. Dropping it in the kitchen sink, you then returned to the table to take your seat next to your mother and across from Hyukjun.

You weren’t sure why you were awake at first. Everything seemed quiet, but something didn’t feel right. Sitting up in bed, you checked the time on your phone. 2:48 a.m. You desperately wanted to go back to sleep, but you couldn’t shake the uneasiness in your mind, and so you pushed the covers off of you.

As soon as you were at the top of the stairs, you could hear voices downstairs, your mother’s and your stepdad’s. Your stepdad was clearly trying to keep his voice down, but your mom wasn’t, and she sounded distressed.

“Sangwoo, I’m telling you something’s wrong with this house! We need to go! Where’s Y/N?!” She demanded of him.

“She’s fine, she’s sleeping. Please, tell me what’s wrong with the house, and we can try to fix it,” he pleaded with her quietly.

You finally made it to the hallway just outside their bedroom, taking in the scene of your mom’s wild, scared eyes and Hyukjun’s desperate concern. “Mom, I’m here, I’m okay.”

“Y/N!” She let out a gasp of relief as soon as she saw you. “Oh, you’re okay.”

“Yes, Mom, I’m okay.” You offered her your hand, and she grabbed it tightly. “What’s wrong? Why are you up?”

“I’ve been trying to tell your dad—” She gestured to Hyukjun pointedly. “But this house isn’t right.”

“What do you mean?”

“It just isn’t right,” she repeated insistently. “What happened to our old house? We need to go back there!”

You looked at Hyukjun desperately, at a loss for words to explain that she sold it years ago. Thankfully, he took over.

“It’s late, hon. We can’t go all the way back to the old house this late at night, especially not with Y/N. It’s not safe,” he persuaded her gently.

She seemed to relax a little at this. “Oh. Right. It’s late.”

“Can you read me something, Mom?” You requested sweetly.

This finally brought a smile to her features, and she nodded, her grasp on your hand turning tender. “Oh, of course, Y/N. I’m sorry I woke you, sweetie.”

“It’s alright, Mom,” you reassured her, leading her back into their bedroom. “Everything’s alright.”

Hyukjun’s funeral was quaint. It was kept to family and close friends, and organized mostly by his sons and ex-wife. You didn’t mind, your mother was in no shape to organize a funeral, and you were more than happy to step aside and support her through this while they dealt with the details.

Today of all days was one of your mother’s better days, possibly one of the best that she’s had in a while, and you didn’t know if that was better or worse. Better, you decided, so she could say goodbye to him properly. After the small funeral was the wake, held at Hyukjun’s home—which was now your home, you realized—and was a more open-door affair. Your mom’s memory care aide, Nayoung, came as well, which you were glad for. While your stepbrothers and their mother played host more than you, greeting guests as they showed up, chatting and reminiscing with them about all their shared memories of Hyukjun from years or even decades ago, it was still your residence, and you couldn’t bring yourself to just stay in a corner. Hyukjun had been your family too, for however brief a period of your life.

You were alone in the kitchen getting refreshments for yourself, your mom, and Nayoung when you sensed that you weren’t by yourself. Turning around, you did in fact see your stepbrothers entering the kitchen, followed by their mother.

You offered them all a small, polite smile. “Hi.”

“Glad we caught you, Y/N,” the oldest brother flashed you a grin. “You got a sec?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“We know it must be really tough for you, taking care of your mom by yourself now,” their mother said, her voice coated in an over-the-top sugary sweet sympathy.

You shrugged noncommittally. “Nayoung helps.”

The youngest jumped in, “We just wanted you to know that you and your mom can take as much time as you need to move out.”

“Of course, of course,” their mother agreed. “You know, a week or two.”

They all nodded and murmured in agreement, focusing the same overeager, empty, sympathetic faces on you that made you feel like you were surrounded by some kind of predator that wanted to empathize you to death. Steeling your nerves, you met all of their eyes in turn as you went to answer.

“We’re not moving out.” You informed them firmly. “Hyukjun left the house to me to keep taking care of my mom. After… it’s all yours.”

“And we’re supposed to believe you’ll just give it to us?” The youngest scoffed, immediately dropping his kind, caring act. All of their faces were somewhere between disbelief and anger.

“No, he set it up that way. You can get your copies of the papers from his attorney, Mr. Shin.” You brought out the business card for the attorney who drafted the papers. You’d tucked it into your wallet absentmindedly when it’d been given to you on your initial errand from Hyukjun, and you were glad you hadn’t had the time to clean out your wallet since. You set the business card down on the counter between you.

The oldest snatched up the card. “There’s no way…”

“We’re going to fight this. No way the house is yours,” the youngest swore.

The middle son spoke finally, his gaze hard as he glared at you. He practically snarled, “You’re not his family, you’ve never been.”

“It was good seeing you all again,” you said, no emotion in your voice. Abandoning your three glasses, you scooted around the counter, then around them, heading towards the kitchen door that they had been blocking the whole time. “Please have all communications about the property go through Mr. Shin. He’ll be able to answer your questions better than I can.”

Crying at a wake was normal. Encouraged even. But you weren’t amongst loved ones, remembering someone you’d lost. You were alone, sitting at the top of the stairs in the dark, crying into your arms to muffle your sobs as you tried to compose yourself from the confrontation you’d just survived. Barely. Your hands were balled into fists to keep them from shaking.

“Are you okay?” A quiet voice caught your attention, gentle, then hushed as he seemed to be speaking to himself, “Why are you asking that? Stupid, stupid.”

You picked your head up out of your arms, quickly wiping the tears that had been streaming down your cheeks as you spotted a young man at the bottom of the stairs. He had dark hair and was dressed in a pair of black pants, a white shirt, and what looked like a black cardigan over the shirt. You didn’t recognize him from the wake, but you hadn’t greeted everyone, nor did you know all the mourners personally. Many were either family friends of Hyukjun’s from before he met your mother, old colleagues, or distant relations.

Sniffling and trying to right your clothes, you offered him as much of a smile you could muster, “I’m sorry, it’s uhm, been a long day.”

He froze, his eyes locking on yours and going wide. The man looked behind him, as if expecting you to have been addressing somebody else, and upon seeing an empty hallway, he turned back to you and hesitantly replied, “That’s… okay. Are you alright?”

“Oh, as alright as I can be, I suppose,” you admitted, dabbing at your eyes with your sleeve again. You weren’t sure why you were telling this random man that, but he had spotted you sobbing at a wake, so there wasn’t much of a point in covering that fact up. “Were you looking for the bathroom or…?”

“No, just stretching my legs.” He pushed his hands into the pockets of his cardigan. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” You nodded. “I don’t think I saw you at the funeral. How did you know my stepdad? Family friend?”

“Yeah, I was around when his kids were growing up.”

“Oh, are you a childhood friend of his sons or something?”

“Friend is a stretch, I think,” he chuckled.

You couldn’t help but laugh bitterly as well, adding a polite but hollow, “I’m sure they appreciate you coming out to pay your respects.”

As he shifted on his feet, the shadows on his face lessened, letting you see his features better. You furrowed your brow with interest.

“How old are you? I mean—You don’t look older than me, you must’ve been much younger than them growing up.”

“I-I mean, we weren’t very close,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Feeling bad about putting him on the spot in this sort of scenario, you offered him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that. I didn’t grow up with my stepbrothers, so I guess it’s a bit hard for me to imagine them having friends—Oh!”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you slapped a hand over it, wishing you hadn’t said them, especially not to some stranger, who for all you know could turn right around and repeat it to your stepbrothers. That would be the last thing you needed, to give them another reason to hate you, and by extension, your mother.

“That didn’t come out right!” You desperately tried to backpedal, holding your hands out in front of you. “I-I meant that I haven’t met a lot of their friends, since our parents got together later in life, and—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassured you calmly, taking a couple hesitant steps up the stairs. You scooted over to make room for him to sit next to you on the top step. He pressed himself against the banister, leaving plenty of space between you two. “I didn’t mean to, but I heard some of what they said to you in the kitchen.”

“I would normally be upset at you for eavesdropping, but I’m kind of glad that somebody else heard some of the shit they said to me this time,” you chuckled cynically.

“‘This time?’” He repeated questioningly. “Are they always like that to you?”

“I don’t see them that often. I think the first time I met the middle son was at the wedding, actually,” you said. “They started spending more holidays with their mom instead of Hyukjun when my mom… after her diagnosis.”

“Oh.”

“God, sorry, you don’t need to be hearing all this shit.” You shook your head at yourself. “I mean, I don’t even know your name.”

“I’m Jisung.”

“Y/N.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s true. You and your mom are his family, too.”

You messed with the sleeves of your shirt as you stared at the bottom step, gnawing on your bottom lip, ignoring the metallic taste of blood when you broke skin. Finally, once you’d swallowed down the lump in your throat, you replied with a tight, “Thanks. And I mean, I understand why they would be upset. Their dad just died and two people who are essentially strangers to them are now living in their childhood home. Of course they feel weird about it.”

“That’s... gracious.”

“It’s true. And like I said, their dad died, they deserve some grace.” From elsewhere in the house, you could hear your mom calling your name, and immediately jumped to your feet. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.”

“I understand.” Jisung nodded to you. “It was nice talking to you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you too. Thanks for listening, Jisung.” You waved to him over your shoulder as you rushed down the stairs and off in the direction of your mother’s voice.

The next day, you had habitually started preparing three plates of breakfast before you caught yourself. In the first couple days after his passing, it was painfully in the foreground of your mind with everything you did, but this was the first time you’d found yourself going about a daily task and it had slipped your mind. You left the full plate of food in the kitchen to clean up later, and took just yours and your mom’s plates to the kitchen table.

“Do you want to go on a walk after breakfast?” You proposed as you ate.

It was something that Hyukjun and your mom did every morning. Sometimes you joined them, but usually you took the opportunity to clean up around the house or get work done in the quiet. Your mother had no trouble ambulating, it was her mind that was going faster than anything else. With Hyukjun no longer here to walk with her, you didn’t want her to lose that precious time going out, or the exercise. Not to mention, you needed to get out of the house again.

“Oh, I’d love to, sweetie,” she agreed with a smile, one that you noticed didn’t reach her eyes.

“After we’re done, I’ll clean up while you get ready.”

As you scooped the extra food into a plastic container at the end of breakfast, you realized the lid that you’d grabbed was the wrong size. Opening the cabinet that contained all the plastic containers, you squatted down with a sigh, mentally preparing yourself to ransack through the absolute mess that greeted you down there. Hyukjun normally kept it meticulously organized, all containers accompanied by their proper lids, but in your rush to clean up after everyone left the wake late last night, you had effectively ruined all of it.

You tried to just look under a haphazard stack of plastic containers, and they of course all came crashing out onto the kitchen floor. You groaned, plopping down onto your butt as you got ready to have to put them all back. But as you went to pick up the first one, an overwhelming, crushing feeling of loneliness and sorrow hit you like a bus, and you covered your face as you started sobbing. The hot tears stung your eyes, every shaking breath you took hurt your chest, and even the task of putting the tupperware back seemed impossible and monumental now.

Rubbing one of your eyes, you inhaled and forced yourself to grab just one container to put back. “Come on, don’t have time for this.”

Slowly, you put the containers away, until there was one lid left that had slid much further away from you. You crawled over to it, realizing the shape seemed familiar as you held it in your hands. Standing back up, you fitted it over the container of leftovers you had perfectly.

“Huh.” Your sobs petered out as you looked down at it curiously. “That could’ve been easier.”

Throwing open the front door, you grunted as you hauled your heavy grocery bags into the home.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Nayoung’s voice called out. She had increased the frequency and duration of her visits since Hyukjun’s passing, and today you took the opportunity to do some much-needed restocking of the kitchen during her stay.

“Yeah!” You yelled back.

“Do you need any help?”

“No, I’m fine!” You hopped on one foot as you tried to wedge your other foot behind the door to close it. “Just—Shit!”

The door suddenly came loose, slamming closed even harder than you had opened it. Nayoung came around the corner with wide eyes, looking rather startled.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, taking a couple bags from your hands, looking you over inquisitively.

You looked between your still-raised foot and the door, a bit dumbfounded. You swore you hadn’t kicked it that hard. This wasn’t actually your house, after all.

“Yeah, Nayoung, I’m okay,” you reassured her, leading the way into the kitchen. “Do you have a window open? There must be a cross-breeze or something.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

It was pouring rain outside, the sky dull and gray, occasionally lit up with flashes of lightning. The constant pounding downpour was interspersed with cracks of thunder that would rattle frames on the walls. The weather was so bad that Nayoung couldn’t even make it out, leaving just you and your mom all day. It wasn’t so bad, today was a better day for her. She was calm at least, despite the weather, absorbed in her books for most of the day. Maybe a little too absorbed, as it was hard to tear her away for meals or snacks. But you could get your work done and do chores around the house uninterrupted, and once you finished your own to-do list, you were able to sit down in the living room with her and read as well.

After a particularly bright flash of lightning, followed by a boom of thunder that made you feel like you were in a low-level earthquake rather than a thunderstorm, the lights went out entirely. You heard the telltale clatter of your mom dropping her book in surprise as she gasped.

“Mom?” You called out to her, both to check on her and so she knew that you were still there.

“I’m okay, sweetie,” she promised. “I just got startled and dropped my book.”

“Stay there,” you directed her, pulling out your phone and turning on your flashlight. You could see that her book had skidded some distance away from her, out of arm’s reach. “I’ll check the breaker. Don’t get up, I don’t want you tripping over anything.”

“Alright. Be safe.”

Opening the utility closet in the laundry room, you threw your hands up in exasperation as you looked over the circuit breaker. You had no fucking clue what you were doing. Right as you had turned on your phone, fully intent on searching the internet for what the fuck you were supposed to do now, the power came back on all on its own.

“Well, there we go!” You called out through the house, starting back towards your mom. “I’m a genius!”

Upon your return to the living room, you stopped when you noticed one key difference: The book was no longer on the floor. It was on the side table next to your mom. There was no way your mom could’ve moved fast enough to have gotten the book and then sat back down in the time since the lights turned back on.

You sighed gently. “I told you not to get up, Mom.”

“I didn’t.”

“Then how’d the book get there?” You pointed to the book knowingly.

“I didn’t—” She looked at it curiously, then at where it used to be on the floor. “Oh… I guess I must’ve… Sorry, sweetie.”

You walked over to rest a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m sorry if I seemed upset with you. I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

She patted your hand. “I know, Y/N. You’re doing a good job.”

The rain was still pounding against the windows that night. Your mom had gone to bed a while ago, but your mind was restless. Something had happened again as you were helping your mom get ready for bed. Hyukjun’s reading glasses, which were on the nightstand on his side of their bed, as they had been since he passed, had fallen off with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Not wanting your mom to get spooked about the house again, you reassured her that you had just bumped into the furniture—her back was turned when they fell—but it left you with an uneasy feeling.

You’d pocketed the glasses instead of replacing them on the nightstand, and were staring at them on the kitchen counter now, fondly remembering the way he used to peer at you over the lenses as he read the newspaper in the morning and you made sarcastic quips about whatever headlines were on the pages facing you.

“Hyukjun?” You said his name into the empty air, uncertainty making your voice waver. After a beat of silence, you hissed, “Of course you weren’t going to get a reply, stupid, stupid.”

Trying to gather yourself, you moved to open the freezer, securing the tub of ice cream from inside it. Sitting at the kitchen table with two spoons, you set one in front of Hyukjun’s spot across from you. Glumly spooning some ice cream into your mouth, you barely tasted it as you stared at his empty chair.

“I miss you,” you said softly, not expecting an answer this time. “A lot. It’s not fair. I know that’s what your sons think, it’s not fair that it was you and not her. But… it’s not fair that we only got… so little time with you.”

You sniffled against the oncoming tears, eating another spoonful.

“I wish… I wish my mom had met you earlier, I wish you didn’t leave us so soon, I wish we got more time…” You looked down at the tub in front of you, your appetite gone. “And I wish I wasn’t eating your favorite ice cream by myself.”

You stood back up, taking both spoons with you into the kitchen. Dropping them into the sink to deal with in the morning, you put the ice cream away and shut off the kitchen lights. You left his glasses on the kitchen counter, deciding you would put them back in your mother’s room tomorrow. As you headed up the stairs, you paused at the top step, a memory of Hyukjun’s wake coming back to you. The nice guy who sat with you and listened to you. You really wished you could have somebody to talk to again.

Something in you made you look over your shoulder then, back down at the bottom step. You swore a darker shape was standing there, unclear in the night. Your heart rate spiked.

“Hyukjun…?” You whispered, hesitantly going down one more step to try to make out what you were seeing better. The shadow seemed to back up one step at the same time you did that, and another name came to your mind.

“Jisung?”

The figure moved closer, a beam of moonlight illuminating half of his shocked face. “You remember me?”

You should’ve yelled. You should’ve shouted at him to get out, called the police, any number of things ahead of what you actually did. Getting even closer, you nodded slowly. “Of course I remember you, Jisung.”

He was still staring at you in disbelief. “And you can see me? Again?”

“Yes,” you confirmed, standing on the step right above him. “You’re a ghost.”

It was meant to be a question, but it came out like a statement, like you had known all along, just saying common knowledge.

He swallowed. “Yes.”

You peered at the space around and behind him. “Is my stepdad here?”

“No.” He shook his head. “He wanted to stay, for your mom. I told him if he stayed, he could get stuck. He decided to go.”

“Go… where?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“What about…” You looked up into his dark eyes hopefully. “Is my dad here?”

“It’s just me,” he answered quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad he’s not… stuck. Either of them.” You breathed out, a mixture of relief and disappointment in your chest. Remembering what he told you at the wake, you asked, “You used to live here?”

“Before your stepdad bought it, yeah.”

You recalled the surprise on his face both tonight and at the wake when you addressed him. “You’re not used to being seen, are you?”

“No, I’m not. You’re the first person who’s seen me since…” He trailed off, biting the inside of his cheek as he seemed to be picking his words. “Since I’ve been like this.”

You nodded slowly, understanding what he meant. “Have you been… helping? Picking up my mom’s book? And closing the door? And the tupperware lid and the fork?”

Jisung nodded fervently. “I didn’t mean to scare you, or make you sad. I’m sorry. I just wanted to help you.”

“What about Hyukjun’s glasses today? Did you knock those off?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “It was an accident… They were really close to the edge, I didn’t want them to fall off and break. So I tried to move them away from the edge, but there was this thunder, and I dropped them.”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the mental image of a ghost getting spooked by thunder, slapping a hand over your mouth as you giggled. Jisung wasn’t laughing, but he did have a soft smile on his features as he looked at you.

“Sorry, sorry,” you were still chuckling as you tried to compose yourself.

“It’s okay…” He assured you. “I’m sorry for dropping them.”

“You didn’t break them, it’s fine.” You looked at him thoughtfully. He was wearing the same thing he was wearing when you met him at the wake, dark pants, dark shoes, a white button-up, and dark cardigan. You tilted your head curiously. “Are you sure my mom hasn’t seen you? She swears the house is haunted, you know.”

“I think she can tell that something is… off, sometimes. But no, she’s never seen me.”

“I’m guessing you have no clue why I can see you right now?” You surmised. “They don’t exactly give you a ghost handbook, do they?”

Jisung shook his head. “No, I don’t know.”

“Thank you again, by the way. For being so nice to me at the wake.”

“They really shouldn’t have been talking to you like that.” He frowned. “They have no clue… He loved you and your mom so much. You two are his family, too.”

You chuckled sadly. “So did you actually hear all of it, then?”

“I was already in there when they went in after you,” he confirmed. “I thought you might… I could create a distraction in another room if it got bad.”

“Do you do that a lot? Follow me around?”

His eyes widened as he clearly began to panic, shaking his head fervently. “N-Not like that! Only like, in normal places! I mean, like, there’s not a lot to do when you’re a ghost stuck in a house, and I think you’re cool—Oh god, I meant, uhm, I mostly stay on the first floor, promise!”

You couldn’t help but giggle again as he had missed the light teasing in your tone. “Mostly?”

Jisung visibly gulped. “I woke you up one time, when your mom was having a really bad time in the middle of the night and your stepdad couldn’t calm her down. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Jisung, it’s okay,” you tried your best to be reassuring, even as you let out choked laughter. “I don’t expect you to sit in a corner for eternity. Thanks for staying in normal places.”

“Thanks for not being creeped out…” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

You let out a yawn, covering your mouth with your hand. After it passed, you gave Jisung a sheepish smile. “If I go to sleep right now… will I still be able to see you in the morning?”

“You… want to?”

“Yeah.” You smiled and shrugged. “Better than just talking to my mother, Nayoung, and myself like I usually do every day.”

The corners of his lips twitched as he went to nod. “I’ll try to be here in the morning. You should go to sleep.”

“Alright. Goodnight, Jisung.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Halfway up the stairs, you turned back around to see him still standing at the bottom, watching you. You threw back a teasing, “Promise you’ll stay on the first floor?”

“Cross my heart.” He made an X over the left side of his chest.

“Not sure how much that’s worth coming from a ghost,” you grinned. “But I guess it’s the thought that counts.”

In the morning, you sat with your feet dangling over the edge of your bed for an extra few seconds, very calmly contemplating your sanity. You had been spending the majority of your time in this house, talking to nobody else except your mother and Nayoung, who came five days a week for three hours at a time, your only other regular human interaction coming in the form of emails or the occasional phone calls with your co-workers. Was it really so unlikely that your brain was inventing someone new for you to talk to? How could you even determine if he was real or not? Did that even really matter?

With a sigh, you got to your feet and shuffled into your bathroom. Your mom had always been an early riser, something that hadn’t changed now, and you had to take care of your own morning routine before she woke up. While the shift in your schedule initially took some getting used to, the daily alone time that you got to devote to your own self-care was something you treasured, and helped you start your day in a good headspace.

Coming out of your bedroom refreshed and in clean clothes, you meandered down the stairs, listening for any signs of life in the rest of the house. If your mom was up, she would at least be moving around her room, if not elsewhere in the house. And then there was the possibility of seeing the ghost again.

Right as you reached the bottom of the stairs, your mom’s bedroom door opened, and she poked her head out. You smiled and walked over to her.

“Morning, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetie.” She took your arm, looking around the hallway.

“You okay?”

“Did he go out?”

You tilted your head, keeping your tone light as you asked, “…He?”

“Hyukjun,” she answered. “He usually leaves a note.”

You bit your lip and nodded. “Yeah, he had some errands, said he’ll be back soon. You can get on him about forgetting your note when he gets back.”

Her features relaxed, and she rubbed your back. “Thanks, Y/N. Don’t know what we’d do without you.”

There was a knock on the front door then, and you went to go open it up for Nayoung. As she helped your mom with the rest of her morning, you headed towards the kitchen to start on breakfast. A figure was already at the kitchen table, however, his back to you as he sat in the fourth chair that had always been empty for as long as you’d been in the house. Jisung turned around when he heard your footsteps, giving you a small wave.

“Morning,” you smiled and nodded, hoping you didn’t look too put-off. You weren’t sure if you would’ve been more surprised if he was here or not.

“Good morning.” His eyes followed you as you continued into the kitchen. From his seat, he could still see you over the kitchen counter. His hands were folded politely in his lap, and he watched you as you started pulling out ingredients for breakfast.

“So, what do you do all night?” You questioned. “Do you sleep?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I read, or look at the moon, or think.”

“I think I’d hate being alone with my thoughts for eternity.” You shook your head, bringing down plates from the cabinet.

“It’s not so bad.” Jisung shrugged. “I wasn’t much of a talker before anyway.”

“An introvert?”

“Yes.” He tilted his head curiously. “You don’t normally cook for Nayoung.”

You looked down at the plates in your hand and realized that you had grabbed three instead of the normal two. Nayoung always ate breakfast before coming over, so you just had to make food for you and your mom. You’d done this before, accidentally making a serving for Hyukjun out of habit, but you knew that wasn’t what happened this time.

Putting the extra plate back, you said, “No, I was… I think I was about to make you a plate. Felt like I had a guest over.”

Surprisingly, this made Jisung crack a smile. “I appreciate it. Your food always looks good.”

“I don’t think it’s anything special.” You shrugged, turning on the stove. “I learned to cook from my mother, we just did it to survive. Hyukjun was a much better cook than either of us.”

“To survive?”

“After my dad passed…” You pursed your lips as you tried to think of how to phrase it, pushing around food in the pan. “She sort of closed up. My mom gave me a good life growing up, don’t get me wrong. But it’s hard being a single parent, and she never really made any friends, she spent all her time taking care of me or working. Then when I moved out, she closed up even more. I was kind of afraid she’d close all the way up, until she met Hyukjun.”

“I see…”

You heard footsteps coming from down the hall, and halted your conversation. Nayoung and your mom entered the kitchen dining area just a few moments later, paying Jisung no mind, clearly not seeing him at all.

“Y/N, were you on the phone?” Your mother asked as Nayoung guided her to her usual seat.

Nayoung took Hyukjun’s old place beside her.

“Oh, yeah, work call,” you fibbed. “Something urgent, couldn’t wait until I clocked in, I guess.”

“That’s inconsiderate.”

You chuckled, then looked to the aide. “Coffee, Nayoung?”

“If you’re making some, please.”

“Was just about to start a pot.”

Sitting down at the full table with your food and coffee in front of you, your mother to your left, Nayoung across from you, and Jisung to your right, you couldn’t help but smile, an odd sense of peace settling in your chest that hadn’t been there in quite some time.

That night, after your mother went to sleep, you traipsed into the kitchen, opening up the freezer. Turning to Jisung with the carton of ice cream in your hand, you said, “I don’t suppose you could help me with this?”

“Unfortunately not,” he chuckled.

“Figured I would ask,” you sighed, grabbing a spoon. “Come on, I’m thinking a movie?”

Curled up in the corner of the couch under a blanket, you had just opened the ice cream when you realized you left the remote on the coffee table out of your reach. Jisung was still standing, seeming unsure of where to sit.

“Can you pass me the remote?” You requested, stretching an arm out towards it but ultimately not reaching it.

“Oh, sure, sure.” He picked it up with ease just like you would, handing it off to you.

“Thanks.” You turned the TV on. He was still standing, so you gestured to the rest of the empty couch. “Sit, Jisung.”

“Right,” he mumbled, taking a seat next to you.

“You haven’t seriously been standing there like that this whole time, have you?”

“I… sit sometimes, yeah.”

“Good.” You patted his arm—or you tried to pat his arm, but instead your hand hit the back of the couch, a cold shiver running up your arm starting at your fingertips. You jerked your hand back in alarm, eyes going wide. “Shit! Sorry! Did I just like, smack your lung or something?”

Jisung laughed hard, his nose scrunching up and his hand flying up to cover his mouth as he giggled. “I’ve never thought of it like that. I don’t—I don’t think so, no.”

“It didn’t like, hurt, did it?”

“No. Feels a little weird, like… Ah, I don’t know how to describe it if you’re still corporeal. But it doesn’t hurt.”

“Okay good,” you breathed out. Looking down at the remote in your hand, you frowned thoughtfully. “How come you could grab this just fine, but I just go through you?”

“It used to happen with objects, too,” he informed you, reaching his hand out towards the coffee table. The ghost moved it down, his hand effortlessly gliding through the table just like yours had gone through him a few moments earlier. “I can control it now. But for some reason, people, I still can’t.”

“That sounds… lonely.”

Jisung shrugged, offering you a sort of sad smile. “Hey, I just spent a few decades not being seen or heard by anybody either. I’ll take what I can get.”

“Alright, what are we feeling?” You hummed as you pulled up the streaming service. “Ghost movie?”

He gave you a skeptical look. “You hate horror movies. You made Hyukjun turn all the lights in the house on when he put ‘Saw’ on.”

“Aw come on, no laugh? Not even a chuckle? Ironic scoff?” You wrinkled your nose at him.

“I’m laughing on the inside.”

“I was very brave for watching it all, though, wouldn’t you agree?” You grinned, grabbing a big spoonful of ice cream.

Jisung’s amused smile was apparent that time. “Very. If I had gold stars to give out, you’d get one.”

“Okay, what about ‘The Batman’? The one with Robert Pattinson, I literally don’t care about the other ones.”

“I’m not sure who that is, but sure.”

“Jisung, I’m about to change your afterlife. Possibly for the worse.”

From when you woke up to when you went to sleep, if you were at home, Jisung was usually around. You found that you didn’t mind his presence, if anything it was comforting, he made the house feel less empty than it would be with just you and your mother—and occasionally Nayoung. You had to catch yourself from talking to him when your mom or Nayoung were within earshot, or looking too obviously at where he was standing or sitting when they were in the room. Your evenings that you used to spend with Hyukjun were now spent with the ghost, watching shows or movies, showing him your favorite music, or just talking.

This morning, as your mom bathed herself and Nayoung waited for her in her bedroom, just in case, you had some extra time. Which you were glad for, as you knew you were moving slow, feeling more like a zombie than a functioning human being as you prepared breakfast. You yawned, covering your mouth with the back of your hand before gripping the tomato again and continuing your cuts.

“So what—”

“Y/N!” Jisung’s cry of warning came before you registered your tomato juice-slickened fingers slipping down the food and under the blade.

You looked down to see crimson red welling up and joining the tomato’s seeds at the same time you felt coldness on your hands. Jisung had tried to grab you, both too late, and in an ill-fated attempt even if he hadn’t been, as his hands went right through yours. You belatedly hissed as your sleep-slogged mind finally registered the pain, made extra by the sting of tomato juice in the cuts. Jisung swore under his breath as he grabbed a kitchen towel instead, wrapping it around your fingers and pressing hard as his other hand knocked the knife out of your uninjured fingers that were still lamely holding it. He reached over to turn the sink on, and pulled you over there by the grip he had on the towel. He couldn’t move your hand under the water once he took the towel off, though, staring at you pointedly.

“Right,” you mumbled, putting your fingers under the stream of the faucet to rinse the cuts clean of tomato guts. “Thanks, Jisung.”

“What—” He was cut off by the doorbell ringing.

You hurriedly ripped off a wad of paper towels to press to your cut, calling out to Nayoung, “I’ll get it!”

You knew Jisung was following you, not bothering to keep his sighs quiet as you peered through the peephole first—habit. A pit formed in your stomach when you recognized the man standing on your doorstep immediately.

Forcing your features into a pleasantly neutral expression, you opened the door just enough to greet your eldest stepbrother. “Good morning, Seohyuk.”

He fixed you with the same wide, dazzling grin that he always had, one that made you think he should be doing real estate instead of whatever his real job was—investment broker or something. He was in a suit, looking like he had stopped by on his way to work. You bit back the urge to look down at your own lounge clothes and hair still damp from your shower.

“Y/N! Good morning!” He was still beaming. “Looking beautiful as always.”

“Can I help you?” You asked politely, stepping onto the porch and forcing him to back up a step off the welcome mat, keeping one hand on the door handle.

He then seemed to have noticed your hand. “Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Nicked myself with a knife in the kitchen just now. I’m fine,” you shrugged off his concerns. “Why are you here?”

“Oh my god! We should go in and get that washed out!” His hands fluttered over you with feigned worry, trying to usher you back into the house, put you stayed put, firmly shutting the front door behind you.

“I already washed it out,” you informed him flatly. “What do you want?”

The expressiveness immediately dropped off his face, and a cool, suave smirk overtook it as he sized you up. “Alright. Big girl can handle herself.”

“We’re both adults, Seohyuk, I’d appreciate it if you can act like one and get to your point.”

“Funny, my dad never seemed to think you were one,” he sneered. “You were the little princess he never got to have.”

“If this is all you came for, I’m going back inside,” you sighed, reaching for the handle again.

“I came to inspect the property.” He finally gave you his reason, holding his chin up. “As is my right, to make sure you’re not letting it go to ruins. So you have to let me in.”

Right, as if the house could’ve fallen to the wayside and become dilapidated in a week. You turned back to him, meeting his gaze head-on. It was easier like this, just one of them. Especially Seohyuk, he didn’t have a temper like his younger brothers, nor did his words cut as deep as his mom’s, he was just… a jerk. You could deal with a jerk.

“And, as I’m sure you saw when you continued reading the papers, you have to give me at least twenty-four hours’ notice before conducting any inspection of the property. So, I will see you in twenty-four hours.” You grabbed the door handle again. “Goodbye, Seohyuk.”

You didn’t wait for his response, rushing inside and slamming the door shut behind you. You locked it up as quick as you could, not wanting to take any chances.

“You’re not seriously going to let him come in here?!” Jisung blurted out, wide eyes focused on you. Of course he heard everything again.

As you opened your mouth to answer, Nayoung stepped out your mom’s room hesitantly, worried eyes focused on you. You turned to her instead, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Is there anything I can do, Y/N?” She asked quietly. You didn’t want to know how much she had heard.

“I’ll try to arrange it so the inspection is during your time. If she’s up for it tomorrow, could you take my mom on a walk? I need to be here, and she really shouldn’t be.”

The aide nodded quickly. “Of course, yes.”

Back in the kitchen, Jisung pulled the first aid kit down, and you applied your own bandages to the cuts on your fingers. You could feel his eyes boring holes into your hair as you bowed your head to pay extra close attention to your injuries.

“Y/N—”

“What did you want me to do, Jisung?” You hissed, not meaning for it to come out as venomous as it did. “They’re entitled to inspect the premises, it’s technically also kind of their house. I would’ve been in bigger shit if I told him no!”

The ghost was quiet, and when you finally looked up, you saw the hurt on his own face. You sighed, throwing away the bloody paper towels and bandage wrappers. Rolling out your shoulders and your neck to relieve the tension that had built up there, you loosely wrapped your arms around yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “I’m not mad at you, none of this is your fault. I’m just… stressed, and I slept like shit last night. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he reassured you. “I just… hate the idea of you and that guy being in this house by yourselves, you know? I don’t trust him.”

“Oh, we won’t be alone.”

“I know I’ll be here, but that’s not the same as having someone who could actually do something.”

“I know you’ll be here, and that’s reassuring,” you replied, an amused smile playing at your lips. “But that’s not entirely what I meant.”

“Mr. Shin, thank you for coming on such short notice,” you greeted the attorney with a polite bow, welcoming him into the house.

Mr. Shin was an older man, around Hyukjun’s age, with salt and pepper hair, who hastily returned the bow. He wore a simple black suit, white dress shirt, and black tie, thick-framed glasses perched on his nose, and he held his black briefcase tightly to his side. He was exactly as you pictured him from speaking to him on the phone yesterday—when you picked up Hyukjun’s papers, you’d only dealt with his secretary.

“Of course, Ms. Y/L/N, it’s my duty,” he replied briskly. “Your stepbrother has not arrived yet, has he?”

“No, I’m expecting Seohyuk in a few minutes.”

“Good, good.”

“Would you like some coffee? Or tea?”

“No, thank you, I couldn’t intrude.” He shook his head fervently. “Your mother isn’t home, is she?”

“She stepped out for a walk just before you arrived. She doesn’t need to be here, does she?”

“No, no, not at all.” He seemed relieved at this news, if anything.

The doorbell rang then, and you smiled at the lawyer. “That should be him.”

Looking out the peephole first, it was in fact Seohyuk. You opened the door wider than yesterday, offering him a polite smile. “Good morning, Seohyuk.”

“Alright, Y/N, it’s been twenty-four hours, let me in.” He skipped pleasantries entirely, a glare already on his features.

“Of course.” You obliged gracefully, opening the door all the way for him.

He obviously hadn’t seen anybody else, as he faltered upon stepping inside and spotting Mr. Shin in the entryway. It was as if a magic spell had been cast on him, Seohyuk straightened up, adjusting his own tie and throwing on his charming smile, offering a hand out to him. “Kim Seohyuk, nice to meet you.”

Mr. Shin once again bowed formally, ignoring the hand in front of him. “Attorney Shin. I’m the lawyer in charge of your father’s estate, and I’ll be overseeing this inspection.”

“Great. Yeah, I’m glad Y/N remembered to call you like we talked about,” Seohyuk lied through his teeth, keeping his voice casual. “She’s been a little all over the place with taking care of her mom by herself since Dad passed, so I offered to, but she insisted she would do it since she only works part-time now.”

You clenched your jaw to not call him a piss-poor liar to his face. Or punch him in the face. His ‘she’s a mess, but we love her’ tone really irked you. Jisung had been lurking in the corner the whole time with his arms crossed over his chest and chose now to mimic choking Seohyuk—it took everything in you not to burst out laughing, but it successfully dissolved the anger that had been bubbling in your veins.

Mr. Shin either didn’t believe him or didn’t care, as he simply nodded and then looked to the both of you. “If there are no questions, we will begin in the kitchen.”

The inspection was uneventful—you passed with flying colors, of course—and at the end, you got to see both Mr. Shin and Seohyuk out at the front door simultaneously.

“I will be making note of this in the estate’s file, of course,” Mr. Shin said in closing. “So as to not intrude on Ms. Y/L/N and her mother too much, inspections are limited to once per year, as you know.”

“What?!” Seohyuk’s jaw dropped. “Th-That’s per person, right? Like, if my brothers wanted an inspection—”

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Kim. One inspection of the property per year. Unless good cause is shown.”

“Good cause? Like what?”

“If there is some damage externally that would lead you to believe Ms. Y/L/N has caused similar damage internally, or if she posted pictures to her social media of the inside that showed some damage. Something like that.”

You had to cover your mouth to keep from laughing in Seohyuk’s face as his jaw gaped open like a dead fish. After composing yourself, you gave the both of them a cheerful wave. “So I guess I’ll see you two next year.”

“And hopefully not any sooner!” Mr. Shin confirmed, bowing deeply once more.

You closed the door with a satisfying click. Turning back around to Jisung, you finally burst into laughter with him. He pumped his fist victoriously. “Gone until next year!”

Holding your hand up, you cheered, “Whoo! Come on, ghost five!”

Jisung whooshed his hand through yours, and the chill zipping up your arm only served to make you more excited. Finally, a win in all this.

3:16 a.m.

You glared at your bedside clock like it was doing this to you personally. Rolling onto your other side, you let out a disgruntled sigh. No matter how comfortable you were, how exhausted your bones and your brain were, you couldn’t fucking sleep. Sitting up, you threw your covers off of you and padded out of your room.

In the kitchen, you drank a glass of water, but couldn’t bring yourself to go back upstairs to your room. You wandered into the living room, plopping into your usual corner of the couch and pulling your knees to your chest. Turning your phone on, you once again glared at the time like it was invented to hurt you in particular.

3:20 a.m.

You could be doing something better right now, reading a book, laying very still with your eyes closed, meditating, anything but scrolling on your phone.

3:49 a.m.

Had you ever gotten a good night’s sleep in your life? You couldn’t remember in that moment. Your eyes stung looking at the screen, they stung when you closed them, but you blinked it away.

4:17 a.m.

“Y/N?” Jisung stepped into the living room. “Why are you still up?”

“Mm, Jisung, hey,” you greeted him dully, setting your phone aside on the arm of the couch. “I’m surprised it took you this long to find me.”

“I figured you were just getting a glass of water or something. I didn’t want to bother you. But you’ve been out here for almost an hour now.”

You sighed, resting your chin on your knees. “Can’t sleep.”

“Is something wrong?”

“I slept for a couple hours, but then I woke up and I just... couldn’t go back to sleep,” you sighed.

“Staring at that screen isn’t going to help you get back to sleep.” He frowned.

That made you chuckle. “And how do you know that?”

“Your mom used to get on your stepdad about using screens too close to bedtime,” he confessed. “Something about the light keeping your brain awake.”

You smiled as you could imagine that perfectly. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

“Can I do anything to help? Do you want like, hot chocolate? Or…” He trailed off as he was clearly wracking his brain for another option.

“You want to keep me off my phone?”

He nodded.

You stood up, your fingers tapping over the spines on the bookcases before you grabbed one. You offered it out to Jisung. “Read to me.”

Jisung gently took the book from you, then nodded to the couch. “Sure. Lay down.”

“I’m not sleeping on the couch,” you snorted, taking your phone back off the arm and heading for the stairs. Tilting your head indicatively, you said, “Come on, you get to go to the second floor.”

His footsteps were quiet behind you, squeaking some of the same steps that you did as he followed you up the stairs. You opened the door to your bedroom, stepping in first and holding it open to gesture him in as he had stopped uncertainly by the threshold. Closing the door behind him, you then sat down on your bed again.

“Here.” You patted the empty side of the bed for him.

Jisung shuffled over, sitting up against the headboard with his long legs stretched out on top of your sheets. With amusement, you noted that he was no longer wearing his dark shoes, only black socks. You laid back down under your covers again, pulling your blankets up to your chin.

He clicked the lamp on his side of the bed on, and seemed to have read the title for the first time then. “Poems?”

“My mom used to read to me every night, way past the normal age that you stop doing that stuff I’m pretty sure. And whenever I got nightmares, or couldn’t sleep, I’d climb into her bed. It didn’t matter if I woke her up at two in the morning, she’d grab one of the five or ten books that were always on her nightstand and start reading to me until I fell asleep,” you explained, readjusting your pillow under your head. “That was one of my favorites. I figured it was worth a shot.”

Jisung opened the book to the first poem and began reading. His voice was soft and steady, deep and soothing. Despite your want to keep watching him and the focused look on his face as he read, his dark eyes following the words on the page, your own eventually fluttered shut against your will.

When you woke up, Jisung was no longer in your room. The book was resting on the nightstand on that side of the bed, and the lamp was off. Upon entering the kitchen, you saw Jisung standing at the humming microwave. He perked up when you walked in, despite the confused look on your face.

“Good morning!” He said brightly, then gestured to the microwave. “I’m making you hot chocolate. I heard the shower.”

“And if my mother had walked in and saw the hot chocolate making itself?” You asked dryly, still rubbing sleep out of your eyes. Your shower didn’t do much to wake you up this morning.

Jisung visually deflated, looking around guiltily. “Oh. Right…”

“It’s sweet, Jisung, thank you,” you added with a smile, watching his shoulders relax. “You’re very sweet. I just don’t want to give my mom a heart attack.”

“Of course.” He was smiling again too. “Sorry.”

Sitting halfway down the stairs with Jisung, you stared blankly at the front door. Dinner had been difficult for your mom tonight, and with no Nayoung at that meal, you had to do it all on your own. She was asleep now, and you held your head in your hands. Jisung was quietly sitting beside you, resting his elbows on his knees as his laced and unlaced his fingers in front of him. This was probably one of the best parts about having Jisung around. Despite being practically omnipresent at this point, if you didn’t want to talk, he didn’t talk. If you wanted to chat, he would talk to you about anything, but if you wanted utter silence, he would let you sit in utter silence—he just wouldn’t let you do it alone.

You felt nearly suffocated by the house in that moment, but you couldn’t leave your mom alone.

“Can you go outside?” You lifted your head to ask Jisung.

“Not very far,” he answered as if you were asking any other piece of trivia about him and his predicament.

“The porch swing?”

“Yes, I can go there.”

“Do you want to? Now? With me?”

He chuckled softly. “When have I ever told you no?”

It was a warm night, which you were glad for as you were only in your sleep shorts and a t-shirt as you sat on the wooden porch swing with Jisung. Holding the chain next to your head with one hand, you peered out at the nighttime around you, glad to be out of those walls finally.

“Pretty moon,” you commented, looking up at the silver half-moon above you.

“Mhm,” Jisung hummed his agreement.

“And stars,” you added, taking in the twinkling dots all around the moon.

“Mhm.”

“Pretty stars,” you clarified.

“Mhm.”

Looking at Jisung out of the corner of your eye, you kept the same tone of voice as you said, “Pretty garbage can.”

“Mhm.”

“Jisung?”

“Mhm?”

“You’re not listening to me.”

“Huh?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Uhm… nothing.” He coughed. “Pretty moon.”

“Mhm.” You hummed back in the same sing-songy tone that he had. “I wish I could touch you.”

“Huh?” He spluttered out.

“Just feels like a nice moment to rest my head in your lap, don’t you think?” You looked over at him, meeting his dark eyes.

He looked down at his legs, then around him in what you would almost call an attempt to avoid your gaze. “Well… we could put one of the pillows on the swing where my lap is, and you can rest your head there and pretend it’s me.”

“That won’t be uncomfortable for you?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” he promised. “Just make sure it’s not too far over here, I don’t want to make you cold.”

After you settled onto your back with your head on a pillow, right on the edge of where Jisung’s thigh started, you could see Jisung and the porch roof directly above you. The corner of his mouth twitched as he looked down at you, and you smiled back up at him.

“Can you push the porch swing?” You requested.

“Sure,” he agreed, and you felt the swing gently push off backwards then sail forward.

You rolled your head to the side to be able to look at the moon again.

“Can I ask…” You poked your tongue on the inside of your cheek. “How did you die? If you want to tell me, you don’t have to.”

Jisung sighed. “I don’t know. I went to sleep one night and when I woke up, I wasn’t in my body anymore.”

You felt your eyes widen involuntarily. “Seriously? You weren’t sick or anything?”

“I felt fine,” he confirmed. “I didn’t even realize until I couldn’t grab the handle to open my bedroom door and leave. My hand just went through it. When I turned back around to my bed, I saw myself lying there. I thought I was still dreaming.”

“God... I’m sorry, Jisung.”

He shrugged, his fingers messing with the edges of the pillow that your head was on. “It could’ve been worse. It didn’t hurt, I wasn’t dreading the end or anything.”

You reached for his face, despite knowing that it wouldn’t work, holding your hand up as if you were cupping his cheek, hovering right on the edge of where your skin passed through each other. “Does that... I always feel cold when I try to touch you. Is this warm? To you?”

“I never notice that I’m cold until I touch you.” He hesitantly put his hand over yours. “Like when you’ve been outside during winter for so long that you don’t even feel temperature anymore. And then you step inside again and you can suddenly feel just how cold you are because everything else is so warm.”

“Is it… I don’t know, nice?”

“It’s… a lot,” he admitted. “It’s not bad, but I can never warm up.”

“Oh.” You took your hand back, resting it on your stomach.

“It’s late,” he said quietly. “Are you tired?”

“No, but I should probably head to bed.” You sat up reluctantly.

Only a few minutes after saying your goodnights, you were at the bottom of the stairs again, searching for Jisung. You found him in the living room.

“Can you read to me?” You asked, fidgeting with the sleeves of your shirt.

He chose a book off the shelves and followed you upstairs wordlessly. Back under your covers again, you listened to the sound of his fingers running over the edges of the pages, folding back the cover of the book before he started reading. It wasn’t the same book of poems as last time, instead you fondly recognized it as one of your favorite books from when you started reading novels as a kid, about a young girl who went on a grand fantasy adventure with all sorts of magical creatures. In the back of your mind, you thought to yourself that you were a little disappointed that you’d be asleep before the end, when she finally came home to her mother in the real world. That had always been your favorite part.

“Do cameras work on you?” You asked Jisung as you kneeled by one of the flowerbeds at the front of the house. It was early in the morning, and you made sure to keep one headphone in your ear so that any passerby who did happen by on morning walks or jogs would hopefully just think that you were on a phone call.

“Don’t know,” he shrugged, sitting on the porch swing. “I think I would’ve found out if I was in the background of any Kim family photos over the years.”

Curious, you took out your phone, opening up the camera and pointing it at him. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, but in the low light you could see the porch swing just fine, seemingly rocking along on its own on your screen. Taking just one picture, you paused your weeding to look at it from your camera roll. Again, you definitely couldn’t see Jisung sitting on the porch swing like you could with your own two eyes, but there was something going on in the picture this time. The air seemed to shimmer and distort in the vague shape of a person sitting in the photo, exactly where he was in real life. You zoomed in on the fuzzy edges that nearly turned into shadow, squinting as you tried to make out whether the distortion was in the image file itself or part of Jisung somehow.

“Well?” Jisung questioned, tilting his head.

“I got... something.” You stood up, walking over to show him. “It’s not what I see when I look at you. I see, like, a person.”

“Oh.” His face fell as he looked over the photo of the strange figure.

“I think it’s cool,” you tried to cheer him up. “Very mysterious, you know.”

He gave you a half-hearted smile. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“I get why you’re bummed, though. It’s probably been a while since you’ve seen yourself, right? I never see your shadow or your reflection. Can you?”

“No, I can’t.” He shook his head. “It’s… I have my dad’s nose, and my mom’s smile. I just thought that even if I couldn’t see them anymore, it’d be nice to see the parts of them that are in me.”

You blinked back the tears that were pricking at your eyes. “I know what you mean. My dad’s mom was alive when I was younger, and she always said I looked just like him. I used to sit on my bathroom counter in front of the mirror with an old picture of him from when he was a kid for hours to try to see it too.”

“Do you look like him?” He asked quietly.

“Don’t you see it? I look just like my mom,” you laughed and shook your head.

Jisung chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know. I wasn’t going to spoil your connection to your dad for you.”

“It makes me happy to know that my grandmother saw my dad when she looked at me anyway.” You permanently deleted the photo you’d taken of Jisung. “I’m sure you have something else from your parents that you don’t need a mirror for, though. Like, for me, when I laugh really, really hard, I start wheezing—it’s honestly an awful sound—and clutch my sides and stomp my left foot. My dad would laugh with his whole body like that too. I didn’t even know until my mom pointed it out a few years ago out of the blue. I sneeze like Hyukjun now, too. Don’t even know how I picked that up in such a short time. I was dusting the other day and when I sneezed, I realized it sounded just like him.”

“Really?” He laughed, a real one this time.

“Yeah,” you smiled fondly at the memory. “I’m sure you’ve got lots of pieces of your family in you other than your nose and your eyes, Jisung.”

The ghost held your gaze, his dark eyes that you tried to imagine belonging to some ambiguous father of his that you could never recall, smiling up at you with a smile that matched a memory of his mother you didn’t have. Even if you would never know them, you remembered them in that moment for him.

You chewed on your bottom lip as you leafed through the large tome of local genealogies in front of you. At first you were worried that Mr. Shin would have questions for you as to why you wanted information on the deed of the house, primarily who had owned it before your stepdad bought it. But instead, he simply had his paralegal fetch the information from the previous title search they’d done when drafting the documents for Hyukjun. You took the list of names with you to the local library, where they kept an archive of all sorts of birth, death, and marriage records, including genealogies of local families.

Kim Hyukjun had purchased the home from a husband and wife, the Parks, decades before you were even born. The Parks were the first owners, and despite neither of their names being Jisung, you figured he must be related to them in some way to have lived there before Hyukjun bought it; their son, a nephew, grandson, something.

You finally found a married couple whose names matched, and eagerly read on for their children. They had one child, a son, Park Jisung—deceased.

“Found you,” you whispered to yourself, tapping the name in the book. Taking a picture of all the relevant information, you shut the book and returned it to its place before taking down another one, death certificates.

Finally landing on Jisung’s, you read with bated breath and a morbid curiosity. It started with all the normal stuff—name, age, date of birth, address—and you skimmed on, trying to find the thing that you really wanted to know. But as you got to the end, and desperately re-read again from the beginning, more carefully this time, you realized there was no cause of death listed. They must not have requested an autopsy. As your chest deflated, you shook your head at yourself. What would knowing even change now? You took a quick note of the cemetery listed before shutting the book.

The information—or lack thereof—that you’d gotten from the library was still on your mind when you returned to the house. Nayoung was sitting at the kitchen table, and looked up from her phone when you came in.

“Ah, Y/N, how were your errands?” She asked, clearly noticing your empty hands.

“Fine,” you gave a non-committal answer. “Where’s my mom?”

“She’s taking a nap in her room. She’s been asleep for about fifteen minutes or so.”

“Good.” You glanced at the time on the stove. “You can head out for the day. Thank you, Nayoung.”

“I’ll see you all tomorrow, then.” She stood up and flashed you one more bright smile before showing herself out.

A few moments later, you heard the sound of the front door locking after her, then Jisung entered the room from that direction. He stopped next to you.

“So where’d you go today?” He asked curiously. “You didn’t pick anything up…”

You sighed, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Library. They didn’t have what I needed.”

“What book were you looking for?”

You grimaced at yourself, picking at your nails uncomfortably as you braced yourself to tell the truth. “I wasn’t checking out a book. I was… I was looking up stuff in the archives, about you.”

Jisung’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Me?”

“I’m sorry, I was nosy and shouldn’t have done that without talking to you first,” you apologized. “I’m sorry.”

“Y/N, you’ve got a ghost living in your house,” he reminded you frankly. “Normal personal boundaries aren’t really applicable here.”

“I… guess that’s one way to look at it.”

“And I mean, all you did was look in the archives, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fine.” Jisung sat in his chair next to yours, leaning forward towards you eagerly. “What did you find out?”

You chewed your lip nervously. “Not much. I know your full name is Park Jisung. Your parents didn’t have an autopsy done, so we still don’t know why you… passed. I know where they buried… you, though.”

He kept looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to say more. But that was all you had. When he realized that you were done, his face fell, and he let out a breath, sitting back in his chair.

“Oh.” He nodded slowly.

“I’m sorry, Jisung.” You instinctively reached for his hand that was resting on the table. You did a double-take when your hand didn’t impact with the wooden tabletop under him, though, but with him.

Jisung’s hand was cool to the touch, but solid, yours didn’t just slip right through it like usual. You stared down at your hands as you readjusted your grip in disbelief.

Your ghost was similarly bewildered, eyes locked on your hands as he squeezed yours back. “Are you…”

“Yeah, I can actually touch you!” You laughed in amazement.

He looked up from your hand to your eyes, lifting his other hand towards your face. “Can I…?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, or even breathe, in that moment.

Jisung’s fingertips gently caressed your cheek, his eyes filled with wonder as he murmured, “You’re so warm…”

“Are you… you know, cold? Is it like before?”

“No, it’s-it’s nice,” he said, clasping your hand with both of his now. “Thank you. For letting me…”

“Oh, sure, yeah,” you cleared your throat awkwardly, looking around the kitchen.

“It’s funny, it’s one of those things you take for granted until you can’t do it anymore.”

“What?”

“Touch people.” He squeezed your hand softly. “I used to complain when my mom would kiss me, or my friends would give me hugs. Now… I can’t believe I’m holding someone’s hand again.”

You patted his arm, at a loss for words, but hoping that you could give him some kind of comfort in the moment. It sounded like a heartbreakingly lonely existence. You couldn’t imagine what you would do if you could never hug your mom again, or even bump into strangers on the train—small things that reminded you that you were real, that you took up space.

You felt your heart truly shatter when Jisung leaned over, pressing his forehead to your linked hands, and you saw his shoulders shake with quiet sobs.

“Oh, Jisung,” you whispered, scooting your chair closer to gently stroke his dark hair. “It’s okay…”

Tonight had been rough. This was the third night in a row that you had gone in circles trying to calm your mother down from a frightened state, afraid that every creak of the house settling, gust of the air conditioning rustling a curtain, or wind blowing a tree branch outside was a ghost. Despite being aware that your house was actually inhabited by a ghost, you knew it wasn’t Jisung doing any of those things.

You had finally gotten her back to sleep at almost one in the morning, and shut her bedroom door behind you with a sigh. Shuffling into the kitchen, you stopped in the middle of the room, rubbing a hand over your face as you just stared blankly at the countertop. You couldn’t even remember what you had come in here for.

“Hey,” Jisung called for your attention softly, his quiet footsteps approaching from behind you. “Did you want water? Hot chocolate?”

“Ugh, I don’t even know,” you groaned, turning around and burying your face in his shoulder. “I’m so fucking tired, Jisung.”

“Then let’s get you to bed,” he suggested, trying to usher you out of the kitchen, but you didn’t budge.

Looking up at him, you sniffled, “This is the third night this has happened… I don’t know if I can… What if I can’t—What if—What am I—What if I can’t do it by myself? What if I can’t take care of her like she needs on my own? She’s only going to get worse and I’m… Oh God, I’m tired.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks now as you felt an exhaustion from deep within. You felt it in every fiber of your being, in your bones, deep in your chest. You couldn’t remember a time when you didn’t feel worn out like this.

Jisung’s eyes widened as his hands frantically fluttered over your arms and shoulders, clearly unsure of where to settle as he went to try to comfort you. “Ah, Y/N, oh, no. Oh, God, I’m so sorry that you feel so tired. You’re doing so good.” He squeezed your shoulders. “You’re not alone. I know it can feel like that, but you’ve got Nayoung, too. Your stepdad left a fund to pay for your mom’s care, right? You can use that to have Nayoung here more if you need her to, can’t you? I’ve heard her ask if you want to adjust her schedule…”

“Yeah, she has,” you nodded, the admission only making you cry harder. “I just—I don’t want to think about needing more help, about needing Nayoung more, because that really means that she’s getting worse. But I can’t—She needs more than me.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Jisung said, his own eyes shining in the dim light. “I wish I could make everything better for you.”

You gave him a shaky smile, the best you could muster in the moment, patting one of his hands that were still holding you by the shoulders. “I know. Thank you, just having you here to listen to me means a lot.”

He wiped at your tears with his thumbs, his hands shaking slightly as he gently cradled your face. “Let me help you however I can—you know, without freaking your mom out. You can take care of your mom and I’ll take care of you. Please.”

It was all you could do to nod your head in his hands. He let out a breath of relief.

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you out of the kitchen successfully this time.

At the top of the stairs, you stopped and grabbed his hand, pleading, “Don’t leave me, Jisung.”

He chuckled lightly, lacing his fingers with yours. “Where could I even go? I’m stuck here.”

“I mean, you always leave after I fall asleep,” you explained. “Don’t go this time.”

He nodded, using the index finger of the hand that was holding yours to trace an X over his heart, pulling your hand along with it. “I won’t leave you.”

You fell asleep curled up under your covers, Jisung reading a book of short stories to you, one of his hands resting on your head, fingers gently carding through your hair—a silent reminder of his promise that he would still be there in the morning.

When you woke up, you felt terrible. Not only because of how poorly you had slept lately, but all of your joints and muscles ached, your sinuses felt like they were stuffed up with concrete, your throat was scratchy and sore, and it felt like someone had turned the thermostat up to a million degrees. You winced as you rolled over and threw the covers off of you, already feeling that your sheets and clothes were damp with sweat. Groaning and clutching your head, you involuntarily coughed, having to prop yourself up on your elbow to avoid choking on your own mucus. Gross.

“You’re sick,” Jisung said from the other side of the bed, his voice sympathetic. You’d forgotten that he was even there, actually.

Sitting up, you tried to look as normal as possible, shaking your head. “No, just had something in my throat.”

You winced at the sound of your own voice; it sounded almost as bad as you felt.

“Y/N, you sound awful,” he pointed out. “And you were tossing and turning all night.”

“I’m fine—”

“Y/N.” He was giving you what could only be called a stern pout. “We just talked about this last night.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but faltered at the intensity of his gaze. Letting the tension fall from your shoulders, you grabbed your phone off your nightstand. “I’ll see if Nayoung or another aide can stay all day.”

Jisung finally smiled at that, standing up and moving to leave the room. “I’ll make you breakfast before your mom wakes up.”

You watched him walk to your door, and instead of grabbing the handle to open it, walked right through it. That must be why you were never woken by the sound of the door when he would leave in the middle of the night before.

Once Nayoung arrived, you hauled yourself out of bed and to the doctor’s office. As soon as you got back, you trudged right back upstairs. From the living room, you could hear the sounds of your mother and the aide chatting. In your room, you shrugged off your jacket and had just grabbed the hem of your shirt when Jisung appeared through the door.

“So what did—”

“Ah!” You yelped, yanking your shirt back down and whirling around to stare at him incredulously.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Jisung sputtered out, covering his eyes.

“Knock! I know you can!” You yelled, gesturing at the door with exasperation. “What is wrong with you?!”

“I didn’t think—I’m sorry!” He fully backed up and out of your room through a solid wall, still covering his eyes.

A few moments later, you heard soft footsteps accompanied by creaks on the stairs. Nayoung’s voice came next, “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, Nayoung, I’m fine,” you called back. “Just stubbed my toe getting dressed.”

“Alright…” She didn’t sound like she believed you, but apparently wasn’t going to press the issue. “I have another visit to make today, so another aide from the service will be here in the afternoon to take over from me. Her name is Hyesoo.”

“Okay, thanks for letting me know.”

“I’ll say goodbye when I leave.”

“Thanks.”

You heard her retreat down the stairs, and finished getting changed in peace. Sitting down on your bed, you then heard a soft knock at your bedroom door.

“Come in,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jisung stepped through the door, averting his eyes to his feet guiltily. “Sorry...”

“Forget about it, Jisung,” you sighed, flopping all the way under your covers. “I’m too sick to be mad at you.”

“What did the doctor say?” He asked, perching on the edge of your bed.

“It’s just a cold, but he said that all the stress I’m under isn’t helping,” you huffed, fluffing up your pillow under your head. “He gave me some meds, they’re in my bag.”

Jisung picked up your tote bag from where you’d dropped it by your nightstand, handing it to you. “I’ll get you some water to take them with.”

After he’d left the room, you set two of the bottles on your nightstand, and tucked the third in the drawer. Your ghost came back soon with a glass of water, and you eyed him suspiciously as he gave it to you.

“Nobody saw the floating glass of water?” You questioned, sitting up to be able to properly take a sip.

“Your mom and Nayoung were in the backyard,” he confirmed, watching you knock back the pills. “Are you hungry?”

You shook your head, shuffling back under the covers. “Sleepy. That doctor’s visit took a lot out of me.”

“Take a nap.”

“Will you wake me up before Nayoung goes?”

“Sure. But sleep right now.”

You were faintly aware of Jisung’s cool hand resting on your head as you let yourself get swept away by sleep.

Blinking your eyes open, you were greeted by the inky blackness of your ghost’s eyes first. Jisung was laying on top of the covers on the other half of your bed, cheek resting on his hand as he gazed at you. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes as you rolled onto your back, suddenly feeling much warmer under the intensity of his eyes.

“The other aide just arrived, Nayoung is getting ready to leave,” he informed you quietly.

“Mm,” you grunted in acknowledgment. “Thanks.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Still feel like shit,” you admitted. “The doctor did say the meds wouldn’t start working until the second or third dose.”

You heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and both you and Jisung went quiet. There was a soft knock at your door.

“Y/N?” Nayoung said your name quietly.

“Yes, Nayoung?” You replied.

“I’m heading out. Hyesoo and your mom are in the living room. There’s an extra serving of lunch, would you like me to bring it up for you?”

You were hungry now, and against your instincts, agreed, “If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. I’ll warm it up for you, give me a few minutes.”

You stared up at the ceiling bitterly, trying to swallow down the uncomfortable, shameful bile rising up in your body. You don’t have to do everything yourself, you can accept people’s kindness, you can let people help you. This was exactly what you were getting upset with Hyukjun for doing, putting others before himself at the detriment of his own health. If you didn’t take care of yourself, your mom wouldn’t have any family left to take care of her—only Hyukjun’s fund to pay for more aides.

“Y/N, I’m setting it down outside your room,” Nayoung’s voice was back outside your door, startling you. You hadn’t even heard the stairs this time. “I made you some tea, too. I hope you feel better. See you tomorrow.”

You were out of your bed and opening the door before Jisung could. Nayoung was still on the top step, and looked over her shoulder, clearly a little startled. You looked down at the plate of food and steaming mug of tea, recognizing it as Hyukjun’s favorite coffee cup. Tears suddenly filled your eyes, but you didn’t move to hug her, knowing that she’d be visiting more elderly and possibly immunocompromised patients today. Instead, you stayed put in the doorway, giving her a small smile.

“Thank you, Nayoung.” You couldn’t string together any more words than that, but she seemed to get it anyway.

She beamed back at you, her young features holding a gentle understanding and wisdom. “You’re welcome. Rest well, Y/N.”

After getting ready for sleep that evening, you were sitting with your feet hanging over the side of the bed, taking your next doses of medications. You took the two on the nightstand, then pulled open the drawer to fish out the one that you had put away earlier. The nap you’d taken earlier had thrown off your sleeping pattern, you weren’t near tired enough despite the time.

“Y/N?” Jisung lightly touched your shoulder. “Everything okay?”

You were staring at the orange pill bottle in your hands, gnawing on your bottom lip. “What if I can’t see you?”

“What?”

“He gave me stuff to help me sleep.” You looked up from the bottle to your ghost. “But what if I take it and I can’t see you anymore?”

Jisung sat down next to you, shoulder-to-shoulder, and took the bottle from you. He turned it over in his hands as he spoke, “You could see me before you started having problems sleeping, right?”

You thought about this for a moment, then slowly nodded, relieved.

“And even if you took these and couldn’t see me anymore for some reason—I would rather you be well than see me,” he said, pushing the bottle back into your hand and wrapping your fingers around it. He held your eye contact sincerely. “Okay?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. “Okay…”

Jisung watched silently as you opened the bottle, shook one out into your palm, closed the bottle back up, and knocked the tablet back with some water. He stood up to move to his usual spot against the headboard, grabbing the book that was sitting on the nightstand. You crawled under the covers, watching him open the book to where he left off.

“Jisung?”

“Yes?” He turned his gaze from the pages to you.

“Will you—” You sniffled, rubbing at one of your eyes as you yawned. “Will you just lay with me?”

“Oh. Sure.” He closed the book back up and set it aside, then laid down on top of the covers facing you. “Do you want the lamp off?”

“Mhm… please…”

He reached behind him to turn the light off, plunging the room into darkness. You could barely make out the outline of him from a strip of moonlight filtering in from a gap between the curtains. Your eyes were getting heavier, and you desperately fought to keep them open, just in case this was the last time you could see him.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Jisung murmured. He crossed his finger over his heart. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Jisung,” you managed to mumble back as your eyes fluttered shut.

When you woke up, you were face-to-face with Jisung, his eyes shut this time, eyelashes resting delicately on his cheeks. You would’ve almost felt bad for what you were about to do, but you didn’t think that ghosts actually needed sleep, so you threw your arms around his neck, burying your face in his chest.

“Y/N?!” Jisung squeaked, freezing up under you. “What’s—”

“I can see you!” You cheered victoriously, your voice muffled by his shirt.

He let out a sigh of relief, one of his hands tentatively patting your back. “And a good morning to you, too.”

It was a couple weeks later, and you were all better. Just in time for winter, too. You let out a huff as you heaved your groceries up the porch steps, your breath coming out as a puff in the cold air. Unlocking the front door, you grinned when it was immediately opened for you, Jisung on the other side. He closed it behind you, taking your hat off you and brushing stray snowflakes from your hair, his brow furrowed in concentration. You mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him, well aware of the sounds of your mother and her new evening aide, Hyesoo, in the kitchen already. He just smiled and murmured “You’re welcome” back.

“Oh, Y/N, back already, dear?” Hyesoo greeted you brightly as you walked into the kitchen. The two of them were playing cards at the kitchen table. Hyesoo was an older woman, closer to your mom and Hyukjun in age, but insisted on you calling her by her first name nevertheless.

“Yep, just had one stop to make today!” You informed them, putting your bags onto the kitchen counters. “I think the snow kept everyone away, too.”

“It was snowing?” Your mom questioned, the disapproval clear in her tone. “You didn’t walk all the way there, did you?”

“I wore all my layers, Mom, promise,” you chuckled, beginning to unpack the groceries. “And my snow boots!”

“I’ll put those away,” Hyesoo insisted, setting her cards down and standing up. “You go warm up, we’ve got a fire going in the living room.”

“Well, I do have some work to get done before dinner...” You said sheepishly. “Thanks, Hyesoo!”

You took the stairs two at a time up to your room to get your laptop, then ran back down to sit in front of the fire with it. Opening up your email first, you were unsurprised when a familiar figure sat down beside you, holding his hands out towards the flames. You hummed to yourself as you answered a couple emails, marking some under your to-do list to deal with later, getting the easier ones out of the way first.

“Ugh, not him again,” Jisung complained from next to you, having been reading them over your shoulder. “Decline!”

You elbowed him with an eyeroll, whispering under your breath, “He’s my boss, I can’t decline a meeting with him.”

“He’s not technically your boss.”

“Okay, supervisor. Still, I can’t decline a meeting with him.”

“They’re never about anything important.”

“Yeah, that’s every meeting ever.”

“He’s just doing it to talk to you. It’s an abuse of power.”

“We’re working on a project together and he’s actually in the office and I’m not. He gives me updates. It’s helpful.”

Jisung made a ‘hrrmph’ sound, pulling his knees to his chest as he opted to stare into the fire instead. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, mild amusement on your features.

“What? Are you jealous or something?” You teased. “He’s like, married with three kids. Have I not mentioned that? He just doesn’t know how to use computers so he makes everything a video call meeting.”

“Oh.”

“Jealous, jealous...” You said in a sing-song voice. “I already spend almost 24/7 with you, what more could you want?”

You had meant it to be rhetorical, but you swore Jisung’s mouth opened, about to answer, when Hyesoo walked in.

“Hey, I’m going to start on dinner, unless you had something planned?” She pointed to the kitchen over her shoulder.

“No, no, go for it,” you waved her off. “I have to take a call anyway. If I’m late, start without me.”

“Weren’t you just on one?”

So you hadn’t been as quiet as you’d hoped.

“Yeah, different department,” you fibbed quickly, getting to your feet and bringing your laptop with you.

You could hear the soft footfalls of Jisung following you, and at the top of the stairs, you turned around to put a hand on his chest, satisfied that Hyesoo wouldn’t be able to see you here. Jisung pouted, looking down at the hand you had on his chest.

“Work call,” you whispered, gently pushing him back. “Wait downstairs. Please.”

He nodded, not looking very happy about it, but descended the stairs anyway. It’s not like there was anything that happened on your work calls that Jisung couldn’t hear, but you didn’t want to risk a floating object in the background, you looking over at Jisung, or otherwise reacting to him in any way during one of your work calls. It was just easier to concentrate without him there.

The call with your supervisor once again really could’ve been an email, but you didn’t mind catching up with him after you got through the two or three minutes of real work conversation that you had. He was a younger guy, and had been one of the people that you were friendlier with when you actually worked in the office full-time. He filled you in on how his three kids were doing, as well as his wife, who you would always chat with at office social events. He asked about how your mom was doing, and you did inform him that she needed aides in two shifts now, to which he reminded you that if you needed to adjust your schedule or workload, that could be discussed. You appreciated that, but if your workload was any lighter, you wouldn’t be employed, and you needed money. The fund from Hyukjun paid for your mother’s medical care, but you still needed to cover the rest of your living expenses like food, utility bills, incidentals, and yourself.

“And you know those staff dinners that get put on your calendar aren’t just to say we invited everyone,” your supervisor added. “You really are wanted there. We know it’s difficult with your mom, but everyone still talks about you.”

You smiled to yourself. “Thanks. Her evening aide is going to be staying the night a few days a week now, so I might be able to make it out one of these days.”

“No pressure, Y/N. Just wanted to let you know,” he leaned back in his own office chair, and seemed to take a glance at the time for the first time in a while. “Sorry, I’ve kept you for a while.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Choi,” you reassured him. “I always enjoy our chats. Give your family my best, will you?”

“Oh! I’m late for dinner!” He suddenly shot up straight in his chair. “Thanks, Y/N. I’ll talk to you soon!”

“Goodbye, Mr. Choi,” you chuckled, hanging up the call.

Closing your laptop, you went back downstairs to the kitchen to see your mom sat at the table, reading a book. Jisung was sitting in his chair across from her, and turned around expectantly at the sound of your feet. You poked your head into the kitchen to check on Hyesoo, who looked like she was still cooking.

“Hi, Mom,” you announced your presence to your mother, coming around the table to her seat.

She looked up at you with a smile, her eyes clearly focusing on you. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders from behind, resting your cheek on the top of her head. She held onto your arms with one of her hands, squeezing gently.

“What are you reading?” You asked, trying to glean any information from the pages that were opened in front of you.

“Oh, this was Hyukjun’s favorite book,” she explained, closing it on her finger to let you see the cover. “I was thinking about him today…”

“I think I read that in a Lit class I took in undergrad,” you commented. “I never knew it was his favorite.”

“Funny enough, it was your father’s favorite too.”

“Here I spent my whole life thinking ‘Goodnight, Moon’ was Dad’s favorite book,” you snickered, referencing the answer he had given you when you were a kid, one of the many children’s books you had at the time.

“Well, he didn’t really want to tell you about this sort of book when you were that little, I think.”

“Can you let me know when you’re done with that book?” You requested. “I think I’d like to reread it.”

“Of course.”

Hyesoo came into the dining area then with three plates, and you let your mom go to take your seat. Your mother set her book aside as dinner was set in front of her.

“Did you look at the mail today, Y/N?” Your mom asked.

“I skimmed it, threw out the junk,” you shrugged, taking a bite of your food. “Why? Did you?”

Your mom must’ve had a very good day today. She usually didn’t bother with things like the mail at all.

“Did you see that Seohyuk’s getting married?”

“Yeah, again,” you snorted. This was marriage number three, if you were up to date on your stepbrother lore. “I’m surprised we even got an invite.”

“Y/N.” Your mother said your name sternly.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. Clearing your throat, you kept your tone more neutral as you said, “Yeah, I saw. Good for them.”

“What do you think?”

“About what? I just said good for them?”

“Going.”

You looked at her incredulously. “Like, to the wedding?”

“He’s family, Y/N.”

“Hyukjun was family,” you didn’t mean to snap at your mom like you did, your voice filling with vitriol. “They’re just three assholes that Hyukjun had the misfortune of being related to. We don’t owe them shit.”

“Y/N!” Your mother gaped at you.

Hyesoo and Jisung had both been silently watching the two of you go back and forth, and you suddenly became aware of the presence of two others in the room again. You took a deep breath in, looking over at the aide.

“Sorry,” you muttered, pushing your chair back from the table. “Good food. I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Y/N, sweetie, can we—”

You ignored your mom’s pleas to talk, scraping off your plate into the garbage and putting your dishes in the dishwasher before storming upstairs. Flopping onto your back on your bed, you stared up at your ceiling fan.

When you heard a knock on your door some time later, you rolled your eyes, but called out to Jisung anyway, “Come in!”

Your door handle turned and opened, revealing not Jisung, and not even your mother, but Hyesoo. She paused at the doorway, obviously aware that you hadn’t been expecting her.

“May I come in?” She requested.

You sat up straight on your bed, nodding. “Sure.”

Hyesoo came and sat beside you, leaving a polite distance between the two of you. “I don’t want to overstep, Y/N… But I imagine there’s some stuff that has happened between you and your stepbrothers that your mom doesn’t know about?”

“Yeah, lots,” you scoffed. “They hate us. They’ve always been rude to me, but ever since Hyukjun left us the house… it’s just gotten worse.”

“When’s the last time you saw or talked to one of them?”

You breathed out. “Uh… probably when Seohyuk came to inspect the property a few months ago now. Mom didn’t even know it happened, Nayoung took her for a walk.”

“Hyukjun was family to you, right? That’s what you just said.”

“Doesn’t meant his shithead sons have to be my family,” you retorted. “They said to me, at his wake, that my mom and I weren’t his family. Like, how awful do you have to be?”

“Hyukjun saw you as his family. His wife’s daughter,” she said slowly. “Do you think, your mom might see Hyukjun’s sons the same way? I’m not saying you have to. But consider your mom’s feelings for a moment.”

You took a deep inhale, trying to separate your thoughts from your own swirling emotions in that moment. “I… I didn’t think of that.”

It was then that you saw she had something in her hands, and she held out two small pictures to you. One was the wedding invite, a picture of Seohyuk and his fiancée smiling on the front. The other was of a young man around Seohyuk’s age, the image grainy, as it was clearly older and taken on film. It was undeniable who this was, though—Hyukjun.

“Your mom was showing me some photo albums earlier, when she saw the wedding invite,” Hyesoo explained. “She didn’t say it, but don’t you think he looks so much like his dad?”

You swallowed the anger in your throat, eyes tracing over the two photos, the similar smiles, the way their crow’s feet crinkled, their noses, cheekbones, and jawlines. It was hard not to see Hyukjun in his eldest son now.

“Yeah, he does,” you agreed.

“Nobody is saying you have to go to the wedding and be best friends with your stepbrothers,” she said. “Or at least, I'm not saying that. But it might be a good idea to think about why your mom would want to go. Those ‘assholes’ are living, breathing pieces of Hyukjun that are still walking around. They’re his sons, and maybe she wants to feel connected to him by connecting with them.”

“He was such a good guy,” you reached for the picture of Hyukjun, holding it between your fingers. “How did he raise three absolute fucking jerks?”

“A mystery we’ll never be able to solve.” Hyesoo clicked her tongue. “I’m about to help your mom get ready for bed, do you want to talk to her before?”

You sighed and nodded. “Yeah, let me do that.”

She handed you the wedding invite as well, standing up from your bed. “She’s in her room. Let me know when you’re done.”

Steeling your nerves, you knocked lightly on your mom’s bedroom door. “Mom? It’s Y/N.”

“Come in, sweetie.”

You opened the door quietly, immediately spotting her sitting on the corner of her bed, as if she had been waiting for you. Sitting down next to her, you took her hand, squeezing it.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” you started. “I should’ve listened to you instead of being rude and talking to you like that. I was only thinking about my feelings about Seohyuk and them, and not yours. Can you tell me more about why you want to go to the wedding?”

“I-I know you and your stepbrothers haven’t gotten along, sweetie,” she prefaced her reasoning. “But… When I think about the fact that Hyukjun won’t get to see this… Even if he did see the first two, you know.”

The both of you snickered a little at that, bumping your shoulders together affectionately. You held the two pictures out to her just like Hyesoo had done to you.

“I get what you’re saying, Mom,” you leaned your head against hers, looking at the nearly identical visages of Seohyuk and Hyukjun. “I miss him too. If this will make you feel closer to him, or that you’re honoring him or something like that, then we should go. I’ll support you.”

“Thank you, Y/N.” She ran a thumb over the picture of Hyukjun.

“What do you want to do for your birthday?” You asked Jisung, searching the table for your next puzzle piece. Your mom had gone to sleep and the two of you were putting together a jigsaw puzzle in your relaxing time before your own bedtime.

Jisung dropped his own puzzle piece that he had been trying to place, staring at you from across the coffee table. “My what?!”

“Your birthday. It’s next week.” You finally fished an edge piece out. “When I looked up the genealogy stuff, it had your birthday on there.”

“I mean, I figured that’s how you knew, but I didn’t think you’d actually—I don’t know, I’m surprised.”

“What? It’s probably been a while since you’ve celebrated it, right?” You put your puzzle piece down. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, I just figured it might be nice.”

“No, I-I’d like that,” he smiled softly. “Just don’t get me a cake with an accurate number of candles in it, please.”

“I think that’d get more candle wax on it than frosting.” You wrinkled your nose, making him roll his eyes. “Are you telling me I have to plan it? I asked you what you want to do.”

“Just you remembering is enough to make my birthday feel special this year, Y/N.” Jisung reached across the table to grab your hand. “I don’t really care what else happens. But I’ll think of something, promise.”

One week later, and Jisung’s birthday lined up with a night that Hyesoo was staying over, so you couldn’t use the living room, as she slept on the couch whenever she stayed. So the two of you retreated to your bedroom after dinner. Closing the door behind you, you turned to Jisung with your arms crossed, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You still haven’t told me what you want to do for your birthday,” you reminded him, tapping your foot. “And your birthday’s almost over.”

“I know what I want,” he reassured you. “But you need to change into your pajamas first, so—”

And with that, he stepped back and through the wall, out of your room. You begrudgingly changed from your casual daywear into your pajamas, then called for him to come back in. Your ghost popped back in immediately, heading towards his side of the bed. You watched him suspiciously as he sat down and grabbed the book on the nightstand. Instead of turning on his lamp as he would usually do, though, he reached over to the lamp on your side of the bed and clicked it on, then offered the book out towards you.

“I want you to read to me tonight,” he requested.

“That’s it?” You frowned.

“That’s it,” he confirmed. “You can sing me ‘Happy Birthday’ too, if it’ll make you feel better.”

You took the book from him and sat down against the headboard, pulling your covers over your lap. Jisung laid down on top of the blankets, looking up at you, waiting. You sighed and shook your head, fondly brushing some of his hair out of his face.

“Happy Birthday, Jisung,” you said, opening the book to where he had left off when he’d been reading to you.

“I can’t believe you’re actually going,” Jisung grumbled, handing you a lid to the plastic container.

“Me neither,” you sighed your agreement, snapping the container shut.

Today was finally the day of Seohyuk’s wedding. You, your mom, and Nayoung had just finished up lunch, and the aide would be helping her get ready while you got yourself dressed. Your ghost had made his distaste of the situation plenty clear.

“You couldn’t just send money and a card?”

“My mom wanted to go, and she doesn’t have another daughter to go with her,” you put the leftovers into the fridge. “I would’ve looked like a bitch sending her with an aide while I stayed home. And felt like a bitch.”

“Can’t believe that guy has even found three people who wanted to marry him.”

You laughed heartily at that. “Me neither. It’s got to be the money. Investment brokers make good money, right?”

“To fuck if I know,” your ghost snorted.

“Anyway, stay here while I get ready.”

Jisung saluted you, making you chuckle a little as you left the kitchen. The dress code was cocktail, unfortunately for you, meaning that you had to dress in the nicest outfit you’d worn since Hyukjun’s funeral. Most of your day-to-day wear was lounge clothes lately. After putting on your outfit, and doing your hair and makeup as well, you did a final once-over in the mirror, honestly a bit surprised at yourself.

Walking back downstairs, you could tell that Nayoung was still helping your mom in her room, so you looked around instead for Jisung. You saw his dark head of hair sitting on the couch in the living room, and started that way. He turned upon hearing your footsteps, jaw actually dropping when he spotted you.

“You’re going to catch flies like that,” you teased, pushing his chin back up as you stopped in front of him.

He looked up at you with wide eyes instead. “Woah…”

“Good woah?”

Jisung nodded, standing up and offering you a hand. You gently placed yours atop it, and he lifted it to twirl you around, making a giggle bubble out of you.

“Great woah,” he confirmed. “So not fair you look like this for that asshole’s wedding.”

“It’s not for him,” you scoffed. “It’s for me.”

“Still… I think the bride is going to get jealous.”

“Oh my God.” You rolled your eyes, putting your hand over his mouth insistently, despite you being the only person in the house that could hear him. “You’re awful, you know that?”

He was obviously grinning behind your hand, eyes crinkling up with a mischievous twinkle. You sighed and dropped your hand from his mouth.

“So not fair to be that cute when I’m trying to be mad at you,” you huffed, pinching one of his cheeks.

“Ow,” he pouted, covering the reddened skin once you’d let go.

You heard your mom’s bedroom door open, and her and Nayoung came out a moment later. You walked over to give her a hug.

“Mom, that dress is so pretty,” you complimented her.

“Oh, Y/N,” she cupped your cheek. “You look so beautiful, sweetie.”

“You’re really beautiful, Y/N,” Nayoung added quietly.

“Oh, thank you,” you brushed down your outfit. “Thank you for your help, Nayoung. We should be good to go, I think.”

“Yes, yes, we need to get going!” Your mom clapped her hands together. “Don’t want to be late!”

After putting your mom to bed following the reception, you crept out of her room with your heels in hand. Jisung was at the bottom of the stairs, clearly waiting for you. He held his hands out to take your shoes from you, following you upstairs.

“So how was the wedding?” He asked, stopping outside your door to let you get changed inside in peace.

“Oh, it wasn’t bad, actually,” you answered him as you got undressed. “I think everyone was on their best behavior because it was a wedding, you know?”

“That’s good.”

“Seohyuk’s wife is actually really nice,” you informed him, chuckling in disbelief. “I hope he treats her right. And if not, I hope she’s got a good pre-nup.”

“Did your mom have a good time?”

“Oh yeah, she tore up the dance floor.”

“Really?”

“Yup.” Finally in your pajamas, you called out, “You can come in.”

Jisung materialized through the door, and went to put your shoes away for you that he was still holding. “I’m glad you two had a good time.”

“Me too.” You plopped into bed, feeling the exhaustion of the night hitting you all at once. “I’m almost glad that I went.”

“Almost?”

“I’m still thinking about how I could’ve spent all night in my pajamas instead of getting hit on by Seohyuk’s best man.”

“Seriously?”

“Mhm…” You yawned and pulled your blankets up over you as Jisung sat down against the headboard and robotically grabbed the book on the nightstand.

“Was ‘fuck off’ not clear enough for him?”

“Didn’t tell him to fuck off,” you shrugged.

“What?!”

You winced and rubbed your ear. “Loud…”

“Sorry, sorry,” he quieted his voice down again.

“I was bored, and he wasn’t a jerk about it or anything,” you explained simply, closing your eyes and pushing your cheek against your pillow. “Still would’ve rather been here in my pajamas with you, though.”

“Oh. Okay…” Jisung took a deep breath, opening the book up to pick up where he’d left off in the story.

You were putting leftovers from dinner away some nights later as Hyesoo dispensed your mom’s medications for the upcoming week. You knew your worry was written all over your face. Your mom had been having so many good days—so many lucid days—lately, but today was bad. She asked you why you weren’t at school multiple times, refused to eat, and had another fit over the house being haunted. You were putting her plate of food away right now, entirely untouched.

“It was stupid,” you sighed. “For me to think she was getting better. I know her diagnosis—she’s only going to get worse.”

“There will be ups and downs, Y/N,” the aide reminded you gently. “The important thing is to not blame yourself for any of it.”

You sighed. “You’re right. Thanks, Hyesoo.”

“You don’t have work to do after this, do you?”

“A little bit. You’re staying the night, right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Good, good.”

“You know, I’ve been doing this for a while, dear,” she said kindly, shaking out a few pills. “And while I don’t know everything, I do know you can’t run yourself into the ground trying to take care of them. Or else there will be nothing left of you, and then how will you take care of her?”

“I know, it was hard to focus on work today, that’s all.”

“I mean—I’ve been with you all for some time now, and when was the last time you hung out with your own friends? Or went on a date? You’re a beautiful young lady, you’re doing the world a disservice staying cooped up in here all the time.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Really—”

“I’m being serious! Just think about it, dear. I promise, taking some time to keep living your life now won’t be the end of the world. This way, you’ll have a support system when you need it.”

You nodded in understanding, putting the leftovers away with robotic movements as your brain continued turning over her words.

Just about a week after that conversation with Hyesoo and you were fixing your hair in the mirror when a gentle knock came at your bedroom door. You called out to the person as you continued messing with your hair. “Come in!”

Jisung phased through your door. “Dinner’s ready, are you—”

He stopped his words as he seemed to take in what you were wearing, tilting his head with a curious frown. “You got changed?”

“I’m going out for dinner,” you told him, leaning over to focus on putting your earrings in.

“Out? Like, a work thing?”

“No, I’ve got a date.”

“What? With who?” He sputtered, then collected himself a little. “I mean—This is the first I’ve heard of it. How did you meet them?”

“His name’s Dongmin. I met him at the wedding last week.”

“Wait, don’t tell me he’s the best man you were talking about?”

“He gave me his number.” You shrugged. “So?”

“I thought you didn’t even like him?”

“What does it matter to you?” You crossed your arms.

“What do you—? Of course I care if you’re going on a date with some creepy guy who you don’t like.” Jisung ran a hand through his hair.

“I reached out to him, Jisung.” You didn’t know why you were getting so defensive, why you felt so on edge at the moment.

He crossed his arms. “Why did you hide it from me?”

“I didn’t hide it from you,” you scoffed. “I don’t have to tell you everything.”

“Yeah, but this is—”

“What? This is what?”

He held his hands up in surrender, looking away from you. “Never mind. Hope you have fun.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t passive aggressive,” you snorted, grabbing your phone. “You’re just pissed because I’m the only person you can talk to all day but I get to actually leave this stupid house and hang out with people other than you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jisung glared back at you, raising his voice to match yours. It was quite possibly the most venomous you’d heard the normally soft-spoken ghost be towards you. “You leave the house all the time, you always talk to your mom or her aides. I don’t give a shit.”

You checked the time on your phone, setting your jaw. “I need to go. I don’t have time for you to keep avoiding what you’re actually trying to say.”

“Oh, right, I’m the only one avoiding,” he retorted sarcastically.

“Lalala! Not listening! Too busy avoiding!” You said in a purposefully childish, loud, and sing-songy voice, plugging one ear as you threw your door open and slammed it shut behind you.

The lights in the house were dark when you got back. Good, you didn’t want to face Hyesoo like this. It was already going to be bad enough risking running into Jisung. Hopefully he was still pissed at you and would stay scarce. Taking a deep breath to dampen your sobs for a few moments, you unlocked the front door and opened it as quietly as you could. No paranormal force on the other side opened it for you this time. Hyesoo’s light snores could be heard from the living room, but other than the sleeping aide, the house was eerily silent. You locked up behind you and started up the stairs, but couldn’t even bring yourself to make it all the way to your room. You all but collapsed at the top step, letting your tears stream freely again as you cried quietly into your hands, hunched over your knees.

That was a fucking disaster.

“Y/N?”

You opened your eyes back up at the soft, familiar voice. Jisung was at the bottom of the stairs, hands in the pockets of his cardigan.

“Oh, Jisung, hey.” You didn’t bother wiping your tears this time as you greeted him. He hesitantly shifted his weight from one foot to another. You patted the spot next to you for him. “Déjà vu, huh?”

He sat down next to you on the top step, deep frown on his features. “What happened?”

“Ugh, guy was an asshole,” you sniffed. “Like, I thought he was really nice and everything, but as soon as he realized I wasn’t going home with him, he turned into a jerk.”

“He didn’t…”

“No, he just said a bunch of rude stuff. Called me a bitch, a whore who was just using him for his money or whatever.”

“Y/N—”

“All that, I didn’t really care about,” you admitted, curling your hands into fists and digging your nails into your palms as his words came back to you. “It was what he said about my mom that really pissed me off. Essentially said I should just put her up in a home and get on with my life. I about threw a punch in the middle of the restaurant.”

Jisung let out a light chuckle at that, but the humor in his features didn’t last long. He scooted closer to you, tentatively wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I’m sorry it didn’t go well for you.”

You shrugged, leaning against him and resting your head on his shoulder. “I don’t know what I expected, really. He was Seohyuk’s friend, of course he was going to be an asshole.”

Jisung wasn’t warm, but you found his cool embrace comforting enough, the steady pressure of his arm encircling you, his sturdy body supporting you as he let you lean against him.

“I’m sorry, for getting upset at you earlier,” he apologized quietly. “You didn’t have to tell me where you were going, and I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“I wasn’t being very fair either,” you replied. “I’m sorry too.”

“But… Why did you go out with that guy? I mean, if he had been nice, would you have… Would he…” Jisung stopped, apparently frustrated at not knowing how to phrase what he wanted to ask. “Why not me? I know that sounds so pathetic, but that’s all I wanted to ask you before.”

You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, biting your bottom lip against the emotions rushing up in your chest at his words. “Jisung…”

“I’m not… imagining all this, right? I mean, there’s something here, Y/N. A-A connection.”

“What kind of relationship can you even have with a ghost?” You asked sadly.

“Maybe the kind you need now.” He grabbed one of your hands, holding it tightly in your laps between you.

“I’m going to get older, Jisung,” you reminded him calmly, despite each word piercing your chest like a knife. “Not to mention—I won’t be here forever. Like, in this house. I don’t own it. I’ll have to leave once she… I’ll have to go. I can’t stay here.”

“Does everything worthwhile in life have to last forever?” He murmured, his voice practically begging now. “Tell me you didn’t think about me while you were on that date…”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “I can’t…”

“You did? Think about me?”

“The whole time,” you admitted. “Even when it was going okay, I was thinking about you.”

“Y/N…”

You looked up from your entwined hands, realizing that you were gripping onto him maybe even harder than he was you. Meeting his dark gaze, you blinked away a few more stray tears.

You finally let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Until it’s over, you and me.”

A smile overtook his features as he rested his forehead against yours. Readjusting your hand to cover the back of his, you moved his index finger to his chest, tracing an X over his heart. Your ghost watched your movements fondly, echoing, “Until it’s over, you and me.”

“Do you have anything left here that’s yours? Hair in a locket under a floorboard or something?” You questioned, looking around your room.

“What? No,” Jisung scoffed.

“Figured I’d ask.”

The two of you were brainstorming. Jisung really wanted to be able to go somewhere out of the house with you, but the best ideas you had of course came from popular ghost media.

“Your stepdad kept a lot of the original house fixtures when he bought it. Maybe one of those,” your ghost suggested.

“I’m not carrying a faucet around in my purse,” you replied frankly. “Not to mention, I’m not allowed to damage the house while I live here. My stepbrothers could sue me for anything that’s not exactly how it was when Hyukjun left it.”

“What about…” Jisung walked through the closed door, and you could hear the squeak of the stairs as he went down them. A few moments later, he went back up them, then came through the door again. He held out something in his closed fist towards you.

You stretched out your hand palm-up, and he opened up his fingers to drop a small piece of metal into it. It had some weight to it, and you turned it over in your hand to get a better look at it. It looked like a knob to a cabinet or drawer, in the shape of an eight-pointed starburst. It wasn’t familiar to you at all, it didn’t look like he had taken it off any place in the house that you could tell.

You looked up at him with a furrowed brow. “Where…?”

“It’s one of the original knobs that was on the cabinets in the kitchen,” he explained. “Your stepdad’s first wife wanted them all replaced when she moved in. He put them in a box in the laundry room closet and they haven’t been touched since. I doubt your stepbrothers even know about them. She probably thought he got rid of them.”

“These were on the cabinets when you lived here?”

“Yep.”

You pocketed the cabinet knob. “Can’t hurt to try.”

Once you’d given your mom and Nayoung your goodbyes, you headed for the front door. Jisung was right behind you, looking positively giddy as he watched you put your shoes on.

Patting your pocket again to reassure yourself that the cabinet knob was in there, you stepped down from the porch and onto the walkway. After nodding politely to a jogger going by, you looked around hesitantly at the empty space on either side of you.

“Jisung?” You said quietly.

“I’m here.” He appeared next to you, beaming down at you. “I’m here.”

The two of you had never gone past the porch swing, not even down to the flowerbeds you had continued to tend to. You grabbed his arm to pull him down with you as you squatted in front of the snapdragons that had just come back into bloom. Pride and bittersweet nostalgia welled up in your chest as you looked at the flowers that used to be Hyukjun’s hobby.

“Do you know the secret with these?” You asked Jisung.

“No?” He replied, tilting his head.

You reached out to gently squeeze the sides of a pink flower, making the dragon’s “mouth” open and close. “You can make their mouths open and shut.”

Jisung watched you fondly, then tried it on another bloom. He giggled. “That’s kind of fun, actually.”

Standing back up, you continued to the end of the house’s short walkway, stopping on the sidewalk.

“This is the furthest I’ve been in… a while,” he said, eyes shining.

“We’re still in the lay lines of the property…” You kept your hopes guarded. “I don’t want to call it a success yet.”

Walking down the sidewalk, you kept your eye on Jisung the further you got from the house, waiting for him to hit some invisible barrier and disappear entirely, or at least flicker or something else to indicate that he was losing his connection to the house. But he looked… normal. Fine.

When you were a full three blocks away from the house, Jisung grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Would you stop looking at me like I’m going to die again?” He joked.

“Sorry, sorry,” you sighed. “I just… can’t believe it. How do you feel?”

“Fine. Great!” He grinned.

You'd never seen Jisung in direct sunlight before, only ever the lights of the house, sunbeams that filtered in through curtains and windows, or moonlight at night. You were surprised at how… normal he looked. His skin had a lifelike rosy tint to it in places, his hair shone and reflected a dark brown at some angles, and he didn’t have any sort of ghostly pallor to him. The only thing that didn’t change were his eyes, still as dark and enrapturing as ever, his pupils melting into his irises.

“So where are we going?” He asked, swinging your linked hands.

“You’ll see.” You squeezed his hand before letting it go, hearing the sounds of other people around the corner that you were about to turn.

The destination you had in mind wasn’t very far, which was good, because your shoulder was getting tired carrying your tote bag. Veering off the sidewalk at a seemingly random place, you walked through a gap between two bushes. Jisung followed you diligently, keeping whatever questions he had to himself. The path underfoot was overgrown with grass and clover, only a path to a keen observer, or those who already knew it was there.

Finally, you ducked around a large tree and emerged at a clearing in front of a small pond. Jisung looked around in wonder as you proudly put your hands on your hips.

“Hyukjun and I came out here a couple times, when he and my mom first got together,” you explained. “Bonding stuff. I’m happy I remembered where it was.”

“I think…” Jisung slowly turned around in a circle, still taking it all in. “I think my friends and I used to swim here in the summer. And when the pond would freeze in the winter, we’d skate…”

He walked over to the largest tree nearby, fingers tracing over the bark that had endless initials carved in it, until he squatted down by the base. “Yeah. I didn’t recognize the streets when we were walking over here, but…”

You joined him by the tree, watching as he pointed out a cluster of initials, seven in total, ending on PJS. “There you all are,” you said quietly. “I didn’t even know this was here.”

“They’re probably all old men now,” Jisung chuckled, a laugh that you could tell was forced.

You reached for his hand, holding it with both of yours. “It’s okay to be sad that you didn’t get to grow old with your best friends, Jisung. I know you’re the one that passed away, but have you mourned them yet? All your friends and family that you didn’t get to see grow old?”

“Damn it.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to make you all sad on our first real date.”

“I’m dating a ghost,” you pointed out, running your thumb over the back of his hand. “I think a little doom and gloom comes with the territory.”

“To answer your question, I haven’t thought about it like that,” he sighed. “I always felt bad that I left them, that they had to mourn me. But I never… grieved the fact that I lost them too.”

“I don’t want to make you sad on our date, either,” you panicked a little at the shadow that had fallen over his features, moving to wrap an arm around his shoulders and hug him. “I’m sorry!”

Jisung laughed a real laugh this time, hugging you back. “It’s okay, Y/N. It’s better than feeling guilty for something I had no control over.”

“Well, that’s true.”

“I honestly hadn’t even thought about coming here with them in so long… Really, it’s nice to remember them all again.”

You let go of him to reach into your tote, pulling out the large picnic blanket you’d brought with you. “How about instead of the both of us making each other sad, you tell me a bunch of fun stories about your friends while I enjoy the picnic food I packed?”

He pecked your forehead, taking the blanket from your hand. “Deal.”

The pond had become one of yours and Jisung’s favorite spots to go when you could find time between work and your mom. The two of you could get out of the house together without risking you getting some very strange looks in public. Sometimes you brought a picnic, sometimes books or a crossword puzzle or deck of cards or just laid on your blanket and tried to find shapes in the clouds. Every so often, you’d get someone coming by walking their dog, or a gaggle of kids cutting through from one of their backyards to another, but nobody ever paid you much more attention past a ‘hello’ or ‘lovely afternoon, isn’t it?’

After submitting a big project at work, you finally had some free time again. As long as your mom was having a good day today. She’d been more sensitive to you leaving the house lately on her bad days, and while the aides promised that she always calmed down eventually, you hated causing her so much stress if it was avoidable—errands were one thing, but a date with your ghost boyfriend that already haunted your residence could take a raincheck.

You looked in the living room first, then the dining area and kitchen, and frowned thoughtfully when you couldn’t find your mother and Nayoung. Turning around, you were greeted by Jisung, who pointed to the backyard knowingly.

“They’re in the back drinking lemonade,” he informed you. “She’s having a good day.”

“Oh, good. Thanks, Jisung,” you let out a breath of relief, giving him a kiss on the cheek as you passed by on your way back into the living room.

Opening up the door that led onto the back porch, you immediately spotted your mom and Nayoung sitting beside each other on two rocking chairs, a pitcher of lemonade between them as they overlooked the small backyard. Their conversation stopped when they heard the door open, both of them turning to look at you over their sunglasses.

You held your hands up defensively. “Woah, I feel like I just interrupted something…”

“Yes, you can go, sweetie,” your mom said knowingly.

“What?”

“You finished your work and are checking on me to see if you can go out.” She took a sip of her lemonade, pushing her sunglasses back up and settling back into her chair again. “I’m telling you I’m fine, and you can go.”

“Nayoung?” You turned to the aide. “Everything okay—?”

“We’re fine, Y/N!” Nayoung waved you off with a smile. “Really!”

“Alright, alright.” You surrendered, backing up towards the door again. “I’ll be back before Hyesoo gets here.”

“What day is it, Nayoung?” Your mom asked.

“Wednesday.”

“You know, my memory isn’t the best, remind me, when does Hyesoo stay the night?”

“Mondays and Wednesdays.”

“Hm.” Your mom tsked. “Interesting…”

Nayoung didn’t add anything further, but giggled as she took another sip of her lemonade.

“You two are nuisances,” you scoffed and shook your head, finally heading back inside.

You beelined for your bedroom, finding your ghost already sitting on your bed clearly waiting for you.

“Oh yeah, she’s having a great day,” you snorted in lieu of a greeting, grabbing your usual tote bag. “That new medication her doctor put her on is doing wonders. I might have to have him cut her off.”

“I think she’s a lot of fun,” Jisung snickered. “Earlier, when you were on that work call, she was telling Nayoung about your third-grade science fair—”

“Ahh!” You cut him off by planting two hands over his mouth, eyes going wide with mortification. “Of all the things she remembers, that’s what sticks around?! Are you kidding?”

His shoulders were shaking as he let out muffled laughter behind your hands, and he eventually collapsed backwards onto your bed. Your hands dropped from his face as you stayed upright, allowing his laughs to echo freely in your room.

“If you’re going to keep making fun of me, we’re not going out.” You crossed your arms. “I’ll bury your cabinet knobs in the backyard, and your soul will really be stuck here forever.”

“You’ve got to stop being so cute when you pout, and I’ll stop teasing you.” He was still chuckling as he sat up and reached for you with two hands. With an eyeroll, you let him pull you into his lap and wrap his arms around your waist.

“This isn’t fair, I can’t find out embarrassing stuff about you unless you tell me,” you huffed, well aware you that you were still pouting.

“I always answer your questions. You just don’t ask me that stuff.”

“Well now I will.”

“Anything else you need to pout about?”

You let out a deep breath, your face relaxing a little bit. “No. Done for now I think.”

He cupped your cheek, leaning in to press his mouth to yours. Like everything else, Jisung’s lips were cool as they meshed with yours. Not uncomfortably so, he wasn’t quite an icicle, just unlike any human you’d kissed before. You put your hand over his on your cheek, remembering when even that used to be a far-away impossibility.

You left him with one more kiss on the tip of his nose before asking, “Are you ready to go? Mom and Nayoung gave me the okay.”

He started playing with your fingers, eyes focused downwards as he spoke. “I actually wanted to ask if we could maybe go somewhere else today?”

“Sure. Where were you thinking?”

“I don’t want to be a bummer or anything but…”

“What is it?”

His throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “You wrote down the cemetery, right? When you went to library and looked up the genealogies and stuff about me. You said you wrote down where my parents buried me?”

“Yeah, I still have it,” you confirmed, cradling the back of his head as you patiently waited for him to finish asking what you knew he wanted to ask you.

It took him a few inhales and exhales to ask, “Can we go?”

“Of course.”

This was officially the furthest you and Jisung had gone from the house together. He’d gone with you on errands a couple times before—the post office, library, things within walking distance—but you had to get on a train for this. You were a little nervous that he might not be able to go this far, even with the cabinet knob safely tied onto a leather cord and tucked under your shirt. So far, the only limit you’d discovered to his leaving the house was time—six hours or so seemed to be the magic number. You’d found that out on a particularly lazy day, when you were looking up at clouds together and suddenly his lap disappeared from beneath your head. He’d apparently popped back up in the foyer with the first headache he’d experienced in decades. Since then, you’d been more careful to keep an eye on the time when you brought him with you.

But he sat comfortably through the whole ten-minute train ride at your side as if he were any other passenger. The car that you were in wasn’t full, meaning that you had a row to yourself, leaving an empty seat next to you for Jisung. After arriving at your stop, you had another five-minute walk until you finally arrived at the cemetery.

“This is where my parents are from,” Jisung stated as you passed under the metal archway at the entrance. “That’s probably why they didn’t choose somewhere back in town.”

A winding path went through the center of the land, smaller pathways breaking off into other areas. It was a big cemetery, gently rolling hills dotted with headstones, grave markers, elegantly carved statues, all sorts of tributes to loved ones. The two of you took a meandering pace, eyes scanning all the names for just one. You looked around the property warily, now extra aware of being a public nuisance somewhere so sacred. You especially didn’t want to risk disturbing any mourners who might be here. But you couldn’t spot anybody except yourself and Jisung, maybe because it was the middle of the day in the middle of the work week.

“There,” Jisung announced, his gaze locked on something in the distance, while you had been looking at markers much closer. He grabbed your hand and pulled you with him as he rushed across the cemetery.

You stopped in front of a simply shaped granite headstone with a carved border. The name at the top read ‘PARK JISUNG’ and under it, a birthdate and death date that were familiar to you. It was the epitaph that was new to you, however.

‘THERE WILL ALWAYS BE LOVE

CROSS OUR HEARTS’

Jisung reached a finger out, tracing over each letter in ‘LOVE.’ He said, “I always wanted to know what they wrote. What they said about me. How they wanted to remember me forever.”

“It’s lovely. They love you a lot,” you replied quietly, resting a hand on his back.

He looked over at you hopefully. “You’re talking in present tense. Are they…?”

“The records I looked at didn’t list them as deceased when I was looking for information about you, but I don’t know how often it’s updated,” you informed him. “I didn’t look any further into them, I was only trying to find out what happened to you.”

“Do you think two more headstones could fit there?” He gestured to the empty space beside his own.

You took the seemingly random question in stride, genuinely contemplating it. “Probably, yeah. Or one big one would fit better, like the couples that get buried together.”

Jisung had a satisfied smile on his face as he nodded. “Yeah, one big one. That’s it.”

It dawned on you then what he was thinking—his parents had most likely reserved the plot next to his for themselves once they passed, and since it was still empty, they were still alive.

“Thank you.” He took your hand, lacing your fingers together. “For coming out here with me. This must be the weirdest date you’ve been on.”

“Visiting my boyfriend’s own grave with him?” You tilted your head back and forth contemplatively, a teasing lilt in your tone. “Mm, yeah, definitely up there. But I’m glad that you wanted to do this with me, Jisung. I can’t imagine what this feels like for you.”

“I’m ready to go,” he declared, looking up at the blue sky above you. “It’s such a nice day, isn’t it?”

“It is,” you agreed, fondly admiring his little one-eyed squint against the sunlight.

Back home that night, you shook one of your sleeping meds from the bottle, setting it down on your nightstand as you went about getting ready for bed. Your ghost was already sat against the headboard, his legs covered by your blankets, hands folded over the book in his lap as he waited for you. Finally ready, you knocked back the tablet with a gulp of water and climbed under your covers. Jisung rested one hand on your head, thumb stroking over your forehead, but after an abnormally long period of silence, you opened one eye to peer up at him.

He was just gazing down at you tenderly, and you fought the instinct to cover your face, instead reaching over to tap the cover of his closed book.

“Aren’t you supposed to be doing something?” You complained in jest.

“Sorry, I was just thinking,” he responded, still not moving to open the book.

“What about?”

“My epitaph. ‘There will always be love.’”

“It’s nice.” You bit back a yawn.

“Yeah. I was thinking about how they probably meant it like their love for me will persist, and proof that I was here and was loved and loved others when I was alive will persist.”

“I like that, Jisung. I think that’s what they meant.”

“And… there was no way they could’ve known this when they picked it, but I was thinking…” Your ghost paused, dark eyes enrapturing you in that moment that you didn’t even think about breathing. “About how even after I died, you somehow found me.”

You grabbed the book from his lap, reaching behind you to blindly put it on your nightstand. Jisung immediately understood, turning his lamp off and leaving the room in darkness as he slipped the rest of the way under the covers. You buried your face in his neck, tangling your fingers in the hair at the back of his head as you simultaneously pressed yourself into him and pulled him as close as possible. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, digging his fingers into you hard enough to make you feel real, which you were glad for.

“I’m going to bring you with me,” you choked out past the tears rising in your eyes. “When it’s time for me to leave. I’ll bring all the cabinet knobs, a chunk of the foundation, whatever will make it work. Fuck my stepbrothers—I’ll pay whatever damages. If you want—”

“Of course I do.” He didn’t even let you finish that thought, and you could hear the tremble in his voice. “But we’ve never been able to get around the time…”

“I’ll figure it out for us, Jisung.” You pulled back just enough to show him as you drew an X over the left side of your chest. “Cross my heart.”

He took your hand from your heart, kissing the back of your fingers tenderly. “We knew it was going to be like this. We promised.”

“We said ‘until it’s over,’” you argued. “I don’t want it to be over yet.”

“It’s not,” he agreed. “But I don’t think it’ll be our choice when it is. Not everything worthwhile has to last forever.”

“Jisung—”

“We’ll try everything,” he assured you, squeezing your hand. “I’m not giving up on you, Y/N. You and me, until you hand the keys over and close the front door behind you.”

“You’ll be coming with me when I do that, Park Jisung,” you declared, your voice cracking over his name.

He wrapped both arms around you again, tucking you under his chin. “Of course.”

⤷ sequel | masterlist

[nectardaddy]

mirage | suna rintarou

seven | rolodex ★

masterlist

I haven't added music to this series; however, Soda by Nothing But Thieves helped me write this. I'd definitely take a listen!

ignore timestamps

cw/notes: messy x100 bass boosted in 4k, flawed characters, self destructive behavior, real/raw emotions, anxiety/panic attack, allusion to being overstimulated, very brief mention of throwing up (used as a metaphor, not detailed), repetitive statements done on purpose

She death gripped the metal counter with a small sigh, knuckles starting to grow sore from the tension she held onto. The cold metal sending a shock wave through her palms, a sudden iciness to it that she hoped would force her back to reality - it didn't.

Breathe.

As if telling herself that would make it any easier.

Her day started off normally, despite the pain the bashed her skull from drinking the night before. A familiarity to her routine that kept her stress relatively low - if something were to go amiss it ruined her day. A rolodex of mundane tasks and work obligations, but if she did them in a set order her stress was little to none. A schedule she stuck to meticulously, one wrong move and her day would be torn asunder.

Suna Rintarou threw a wrench in that complex order; took the rolodex in his hands and made a jumbled mess of it.

'I just want you to be happy.' Haunted her subconscious the moment she read it, the moment she finally went to sleep, and the moment she opened her eyes that morning. Lingered in the back of her mind throughout the day until it couldn't be ignored anymore; prowling around in her head like a cat - until it finally pounced.

Breathe.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but the thought of the green eyed man still rattled her to her very core. Feline and wild, at one point making her weak at the knees; now she only felt the need to vomit at the thought. To pull the nearest trash can towards her and heave; because why on earth did she still want him? Why did she still crave the attention of a man who's words were brash and unruly? Why did she still need the man who's kind sentiments never truly fizzled out?

Why did she still love the man whom she created to be the devil?

Distracting herself with every petty, trivial argument they had to negate the feelings of hopeless love. Purposefully unable to recall of times where he was doting, selfless - loving. It was better to remember him as a monster, if he ever was one in the first place, than think of him fondly.

Suna Rintarou ruined that image of himself for her. Shattered it into a million pieces and she watched in horror as it fell at her feet. 'I just want you to be happy' was the smoking gun that shot down any fleeting memory of a bickering past.

She reopened her eyes and seized the counter harder, an imprint of the table's edge embedding itself in her palm as she held it vehemently. With a tight jaw, she let her eyes slide to her phone resting on the table next to her. Staring back at her as a singular thought wracked her brain - call him.

Her world got a bit smaller when the thought hit her. Caving in on itself as the notion alone gave her tunnel vision.

Call him.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, sucking in a breath as all she could find herself to do was stare at the black screen in contemplation.

Call him.

A quick decision, one given without thought, that caused her body to move on its own. Picking up the phone and scrolling through her contacts with conviction, but without a thread of reflection. Yet the phone rang a bit too long, the fan next to her was a bit too loud, and the lights above her in the cramped back room were a bit too bright.

So she hung up the moment he answered and threw her phone back onto the table. She listened to it buzz relentlessly for the next few minutes with eyes screwed shut and knee bouncing until it finally fell silent again.

Breathe.

I am an unreliable narrator, obviously, and yes it was done on purpose do not come for me.

Iwa can pretty much guess what's going on, next chapter bout to go crazy with this

pay attention to the lock screen picture ;) (do not read me about that lock screen either I tried my best on canva)

if you don't know what a rolodex is, thanks for making me feel old, but (and this is the google definition) it's a "rotating card file device used to store a contact list"

she will not be telling the group chat what she's doing tonight

she will lie if they ask just like she lied to akaashi

yn I see you and I love you dearly

taglist (open , send an ASK)

@mollyrolls @causenessus @zumicho @seroh @eggyrocks 

@nbcvs @rory-cakes @localgaytrainwreck @kodzu-ken @hermaeusmorax

@sunafc @lvtilzs @kr1nqu @iiwaijime @gsyche 

@le000xxgrd @iheartpinky @strxwberri-s @wolffmaiden @yogurtkags 

@superboywife @cherrypieyourface @soulfullystarry @bedeater @a-little-pebbl

@miliondollagirl @toges-cough-syrup @renardiererin  @theycallmenanamisgirl @honeekyuu

@softpia @mfcherry @keeboismine @phoenix-eclipses

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Sleepy Bitch Syndrome: Chapter Five

Sleepy Bitch Syndrome: You've got narcolepsy and have been visiting the Dreaming daily for years. Then its Lord and King finally return and he doesn't know quite what to think of you.

Warnings: Language.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Narcoleptic!Reader, for you dear @aralezinspace.

Word Count: ~2.4k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

You find yourself in the cold, sterile room of the sleep clinic. The bed beneath you feels foreign, the sheets crisp and unfamiliar. Electrodes cling to your scalp, chest, and limbs, tethering you to the machines that will monitor your every twitch and breath.

"You ready?" the technician asks, her voice breaking through the clinical quiet. Her eyes are kind but professional, revealing none of the potential outcomes of this study.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the anxiety gnawing at you.

The lights dim, and you're left alone with the soft hum of machinery. You close your eyes, willing sleep to come quickly, but it evades you for a while. Eventually, exhaustion takes over and pulls you under.

You drift into a dreamscape that's unsettlingly familiar—Mervyn's garden. The flowers bloom in impossible colors, their petals shifting like liquid in a breeze that doesn't exist. Morpheus appears again, standing among the blossoms, his expression unreadable.

"Why here?" you ask, more to yourself than to him.

"Your mind seeks comfort," he replies. "And yet it brings you back to chaos."

The scene shifts suddenly. You find yourself back in the sleep clinic bed but not alone. Matthew perches on the headboard, his dark eyes watching over you.

"You think they got what they needed?" he asks casually.

"Doubt it," you mutter. "Feels like a whole lot of nothing."

Morning arrives too soon, dragging you from restless slumber into harsh reality. The technician re-enters the room with a clipboard in hand and a neutral expression.

"How'd I do?" You force a smile, hoping for some clarity.

"We'll discuss it with Dr. Andrews," she says. Her tone is too measured to offer any hints.

You're led to a small consultation room where Dr. Andrews awaits with your chart spread out before him.

"Your results are... inconclusive," he says after a moment's hesitation. "We didn't find anything definitive."

You let out a sigh of frustration. "So what now?"

"We'll need to run more tests," he continues. "Your symptoms are real; we just haven't pinpointed the cause yet."

You nod numbly as he explains next steps—more nights in strange beds with electrodes glued to your skin, more waiting for answers that might never come.

As you leave the clinic, Matthew swoops down from somewhere above and lands on your shoulder again. It still astounds you that he can travel between realms, but you are eternally grateful to have his company during your waking hours.

"Guess it's back to square one," he remarks.

"Yeah," you agree softly. "But at least it hasn't gotten worse… you wanna get food?"

"Fuck yeah,"

"How about that diner on Fifth?" you suggest. "They've got outdoor seating. I can pretend that you're a pet"

Matthew ruffles his feathers in approval. "Sounds good. You know I can't resist those fries."

You make your way through the crowded sidewalks, dodging commuters and street vendors until you reach the small, retro-style diner. The smell of sizzling bacon and fresh coffee hits you as you approach, and your stomach growls in anticipation.

You find a table outside, under the shade of a striped umbrella. A waitress with a bright smile brings menus and fills your cup with steaming coffee.

"I'll have the breakfast special," you say, glancing at Matthew. "And can we get an extra side of fries?"

The waitress nods and scribbles down your order before disappearing back inside.

"So," Matthew starts, pecking lightly at a napkin for amusement, "how do you feel about all this? The tests, I mean."

You lean back in your chair, taking a sip of coffee. "Frustrated, mostly. It’s like being stuck in a loop with no exit."

Matthew tilts his head, studying you. "But you're not giving up."

"Never," you reply firmly. "I need answers."

The waitress returns with your food—a plate piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and a generous serving of fries on the side. She places everything down with a practiced ease and leaves you to it.

You break off a piece of toast and hold it out for Matthew. He pecks at it gratefully before turning his attention to the fries.

"Here," you say, picking up a fry and holding it close to his beak.

He takes it delicately, munching away with visible delight. "Best part of any meal," he quips between bites.

You smile, feeling a small sense of normalcy amidst the chaos that has become your life. Sharing a meal with Matthew distracts you—no doctors, no tests, just the simple act of eating together. Even he is a bird.

"Want some bacon?" You hold up a piece for him.

"Nah," he replies. "Too greasy for my bird stomach, you would not believe how much I had to shit after snacking on measly strip…” You try not to think about Matthew having bird diarrhea while you chew your bacon eyes wandering over the bustling cityscape. People pass by in waves, unaware of your silent struggles. Matthew’s presence brings a small measure of comfort. The bird’s casual attitude toward your predicament eases the tension you carry like an invisible weight.

Matthew finishes another fry and cocks his head at you. "You think they'll find anything useful next time?"

You shrug, swallowing a bite of scrambled eggs. "I hope so. It’s hard not knowing what’s wrong. But at the same time, how many tests have I already been though? Pretty sure they're gonna start running out and just chalk it up to me being crazy."

"Well at least you’ve got me," he says with a wink—or as much of a wink as a bird can manage.

You chuckle, the sound surprising even to you. It feels good to laugh, even if just for a moment. "Yeah, I do. Thanks for sticking around…" Then you think about it. Why is Matthew hanging out with you while you are awake?

"Matthew?" You question, catching the raven mid gobble of another fry.

You look at Matthew as he swallows the fry, his beady eyes glinting with curiosity. “Why do you stick around when I’m awake?”

He pauses, feathers ruffling slightly. “Good question,” he says, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone. “Maybe I just enjoy your company.”

“Come on,” you say, leaning forward. “There’s gotta be more to it than that.”

Matthew pecks at another fry, taking his time before responding. “Alright, alright. The boss told me to watch you, okay?"

The boss? Why would Morpheus care about your well being?

You stare at Matthew, his nonchalance doing little to mask the gravity of his revelation.

"The boss? Morpheus asked you to watch over me?"

Matthew's beady eyes meet yours, and he nods slowly. "Yeah, he did. Said you were important."

"Important? To who?" You lean in, your heart pounding in your chest. Did he still think you were a threat? "What does he mean?"

Matthew looks around, ensuring no one else is listening. Then he leans closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Alright, but you gotta promise not to freak out."

You nod, the curiosity gnawing at you. "I promise."

"Okay," he says, settling himself on the table. "So, I think Morpheus has a crush on you."

Your eyes widen in disbelief. "What? That's... that's insane."

Matthew shrugs, picking at another fry. "Is it? Think about it. Why else would he send me to keep an eye on you?"

You try to process this information, but it's like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands. "But he's... he's the Lord of Dreams, and Endless. He's older than the gods. Why would he care about me?"

"Hey," Matthew pecks at the table for emphasis, "he's more human than you think. Just because he's got all that power doesn't mean he doesn't have feelings."

"Matthew, he has the emotional intelligence of a rock."

Matthew cocks his head, a twinkle of amusement in his beady eyes. "Maybe. But even rocks get polished over time."

"Oh my god, this conversation is ridiculous," you sigh in exasperation, shaking your head.

Matthew chuckles, a surprisingly comforting sound. "Ridiculous or not, it's the truth. Why else would he send me to watch over you?"

"Because I am an interloper within his realm he can't control?" You offer shortly before chewing your lip. You take a deep breath, trying to make sense of everything. "So, what now? Do I just... pretend I don't know?"

Matthew shrugs, fluffing his feathers. "That's up to you. But you should know, he's not just watching over you for no reason. He genuinely cares."

You nod slowly, the gravity of the situation settling over you. "Alright. I'll think about it."

Matthew pecks at another fry, giving you a reassuring look. "Take your time. Just know that whatever you decide, I'm here. And so is he. I think."

He thinks. Hah!

" Great talk," You say, not knowing what else to say. "Thanks, Matthew."

"Anytime," he replies, his tone light and playful. "Now, how about we get back to those fries?"

You wander through Fiddler's Green, your eyes scanning the landscape for the perfect spot to set up your painting supplies. The rolling hills are lush with emerald grass, dotted with wildflowers that seem to glow in the afternoon sun. Trees sway gently in the breeze, their leaves whispering secrets you can almost hear.

A narrow path winds through the meadow, leading you toward a small pond. The water reflects the sky like a mirror, capturing every cloud and beam of sunlight. You pause for a moment, taking in the serenity of the scene. It's almost too beautiful, too perfect—like a dream within a dream. Enough about that dream fuckery, this isn’t Inception…

You walk a bit further and find an old oak tree with sprawling branches that provide ample shade. The roots twist and curl around each other, forming natural seats. You set down your canvas and easel, unrolling your brushes and paints with practiced ease.

The quiet of Fiddler's Green wraps around you like a comforting blanket as you dip your brush into a vibrant blue. You begin to paint the sky, each stroke bringing the scene to life on your canvas. The colors blend and dance under your hand, capturing the essence of this magical place.

"Nice choice," a voice says behind you.

You turn to see Gilbert standing there, his ever-present book tucked under his arm. His eyes twinkle with approval as he takes in your setup.

"Thanks," you reply, smiling. "It's hard not to be inspired here."

Gilbert nods, stepping closer to examine your work. "You've got quite the talent," he observes. "Capturing the spirit of this realm isn't easy with its ever shifting state."

You shrug modestly, focusing on adding detail to a distant tree. "It's all about finding the right moment," you say. "The way the light hits the water or how the flowers sway in the breeze."

He watches you for a moment longer before sitting down on one of the gnarled roots. "Do you ever feel like you're painting more than just what you see?"

You glance at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Well," he says thoughtfully, "it's like you're capturing the very essence of this place—the dreams and hopes it represents."

You consider his words as you continue to paint, adding layers of color and depth. Maybe he's right. Maybe you're not just painting what you see but also what you feel—the peace and tranquility that Fiddler's Green offers.

As you lose yourself in your work, Gilbert's presence becomes a comforting backdrop. He doesn't need to say anything more; his quiet support speaks volumes. You don't notice when Gilbert fades, returning to his disembodied state as Fiddler's Green.

You lose yourself in the flow of colors and brushstrokes, the world around you fading into a blur of creativity. The air hums with the energy of Fiddler's Green, each breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers and fresh grass. It's as if the very essence of The Dreaming seeps into your painting, making it come alive on the canvas.

A shadow falls across your work, and you look up to find Morpheus standing beside you. His presence is as commanding as ever, his dark eyes studying your painting with an intensity that makes your heart race.

"You paint," he states, his voice a soft murmur that seems to resonate through the meadow.

You nod, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze. "I'm not really that good," you admit. "But this place is too beautiful not to try."

Morpheus tilts his head slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Beauty often inspires creation," he says, stepping closer. "May I?"

You swallow hard and nod again, handing him the brush with trembling fingers. His touch is cool but not unpleasant, but rather than fully take the brush, he stands behind you, close enough that you can feel the faint rustle of his robes against your back.

"Relax," he instructs softly. "Let the moment guide your hand."

His fingers gently cover yours, guiding the brush across the canvas with fluid, confident strokes. The colors seem to blend more harmoniously under his direction, each line and curve coming together to form a more cohesive whole.

"See how the light plays on the water?" he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. "Capture that essence—the way it dances and shimmers."

You try to focus on his words, on the way his hand moves with yours, but it's hard to ignore how close he is to you. His presence is overwhelming yet comforting, grounding you in a way you haven't felt in a long time.

"Art is not about perfection," Morpheus continues, his voice a soothing melody. "It's about capturing what lies beneath the surface—the emotions and dreams that shape our reality."

You take a deep breath, letting his words sink in as you follow his lead. The painting begins to transform before your eyes, becoming something more than just an image on a canvas. It feels alive, imbued with the very spirit of The Dreaming.

Morpheus steps back after a few moments, leaving you to finish on your own. His eyes meet yours, filled with an unreadable expression.

"You have more talent than you realize," he says softly.

You look at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. "Thank you," you whisper.

He inclines his head slightly in acknowledgment before fading back into the landscape, leaving you alone once more with your painting and thoughts.

The colors on your canvas seem brighter now, more vivid—a testament to the brief but intense moment you've just shared with Morpheus. Your brain glitches and a solid blue screen appears behind your eyes, serenity is replaced with panic.

Shit. Matthew is right.

Date Published: 8/7/24

Last Edit: 8/7/24

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[oppropro]

Chapter 3

This is the conclusion to my fanfic. This was really fun and I hope all y'all enjoy it. Maybe I'll write some more stuff later on. Something shorter and more lighthearted.

Once again, All credit to @jttw-monkeybusiness for her AU story.

********

CHAPTER 3- Hired

            The only sound Sophie could focus on was that of her heavy footsteps drumming on the forest floor in tandem with her racing heart. Her mad sprint had tempered into a steady pace as she continued to run as straight as the terrain would allow her. Her legs ached and her chest felt like it was on fire. No matter how heavy she breathed, she never seemed to get enough air. Still, she had to keep running. At that moment, it did not matter to her where she was going; anywhere but there.

            She tripped over a tree root but did not lose her balance. What the fuck had just happened to her? How the hell did she wind up in a forest? That woman in the shop. Was this her fault? Was she a witch? A mare? More likely, she drugged that cup of tea, and this is all a hallucination, a bad trip. A nightmare.

            She should have fallen onto the wet pavement of her hometown. A street bustling with vehicles and foot traffic. The smell of concrete, rubber, unemptied garbage bins; all overpowered by the sweet perfume of flowering tree blossoms. Someone should have helped her up to her feet and brushed away the dirt from her scratched up face. A human; not a pig-man. And what was that thing she fell on? Some grotesque talking monkey monster? It looked like it wanted to tear her apart with its fangs. Jesus Christ! It talked. He talked. The monkey monster and the pig-man talked. None of this could be real.

            When she thought she had put enough space between her and her would-be assailant, and when she finally ran out of breath, Sophie stopped and leaned her back against the trunk of a mossy tree. The air was cool and humid, making her sweat stick to her body rather than evaporating. Now her legs hurt, her head throbbed, her chest burned, and she was shivering. With her eyes closed, Sophie managed to regain control of her breathing and rummaged through her pocket for her cell phone. She pulled it out of her sweater and opened her eyes so she could unlock it.

            Sophie dialed 112 and waited for the call to connect. Nothing. There was no signal. No data. No Wi-Fi. No matter how many times she tried, her calls were not going through.

            Unable to hold back whimpers anymore, Sophie held her phone in front of her with both hands wishing she had the strength to snap the useless piece of junk in half. All out of options, she cried out to the heavens.

            “Help! Somebody please help me!”

            To her dismay, the heavens answered.

            “Yeah, I can help you girly.”

            Sophie turned to her right to see the monkey monster standing no less than five meters away. Her heart sank.

********

            Was it fair to think that all humans were stupid, or was it this woman in particular? To be fair, Wukong acknowledged that he held a personal bias, what with this woman crashing onto him and then running off without so much as an apology for her insolence. Tracking her down was not hard, it was actually quite funny to watch her run herself to exhaustion. The distance was impressive, for a human, and he doubted that his master could do any better than her.

            Wukong observed the woman as he stalked her from the canopy above. She obviously posed no real threat. There was nothing demonic about her, though her foreign attire made her suspect. She could be a part of a demon plot; a patsy to be used as bait to lure him and his master. If she was smart, she would answer his questions and return with him to his master; then the monk will see that Sun Wukong, the great sage equal to heaven, is the fastest, smartest, fiercest, bravest, patient, loyal, and most merciful of all on heaven and earth.

            The woman below Wukong began crying for help. The chase had gone on long enough. It was time to get some answers.

            “Yeah, I can help you girly.”

            The woman looked up at him and froze. She was like a frail little deer staring down a tiger.

            “Of course, you’re gonna have to answer some questions of mine. First off, who are you and whose dumb ass idea was it for you to assault me and my master? I’m pretty sure you’re too stupid to sabotage the monk’s mission on your own, so start naming names and I promise I won’t hurt you.”

            She stood, still frozen in place, her lips quivering. Her eyes darting between him and a clearing in the forest floor, the remnants of some old animal trail. There was no way she would be stupid enough to run again.

            “Just answer my questions,” Wukong was no longer asking, he was ordering.

            The woman stared him down, regaining the slightest semblance of composure. Then, she ran off again into the forest.

            Why? WHY! Why was she making this harder than it needed to be? He was tired of playing cat and mouse. He barely had to walk briskly to catch sight of her again. This time he was going to make sure she stayed put. He extended his jingu bang out before her. He could have hit her with it, but he didn’t. She ran right into it on her own. Wukong grinned cheek to cheek as he watched the woman tumble over the staff and face plant into dirt. He laughed aloud as he made his way to her feet. His staff rested on her back in case she tried to run again.

            “I guess you are a stupid as you look, but I am in a forgiving mood so answer my questions and I will make sure you don’t hurt yourself any more than you have already.”

            The woman on the ground grabbed a fist full of dirt and debris, then with impressive precision managed to throw the filth in Wukong’s face, hitting him in the eye with a rather sharp pebble. She squirmed under the weight of his staff but could not free herself.

            “GET AWAY FROM ME YOU DISGUSTING CREATURE!” Her voice conveyed all the fear and malice Wukong knew to expect from every god and mortal alike that crossed his path.

            This was the end of his patience. He was the one who was accosted. He was the one showing mercy. He was not the perpetrator in this attack. He did nothing wrong. And yet this insolent little mortal woman thinks she can attack and insult the great Sun Wukong? He was going to get the answers he wanted from the woman and then drag her ass back to his master. But first, he was going to teach her a lesson she would never forget.

            “You think I’m a disgusting creature? You think I’m a monster? You’re the one who attacked me. But that just makes what I’m about to do you all the more justified.”

            His fur stood up on end. the knuckles in his right hand cracked. The woman beneath him cowered as he readied his strike.

********

            Sophie braced for whatever blow that monster was about release unto her. Huddled on the damp forest floor trembling in a fetal position, her eye clenched shut; she prayed for this nightmare to end. But no strike came.

            She opened her eyes to see that her prayer was only halfway answered: she was still in this strange forest, but the monster that was attacking her was now seemingly incapacitated. He was doubled over on himself, clenching the golden band around his head. He looked to be in agony. Behind the monster was the pig-man and the human who were with her when she fell.

            Sophie hardly registered the man back then. Now, riding on a white horse, with elegant robes, he looked like a prince out of a far away fairy tale. He was in deep concentration; muttering words Sophie could hardly hear. Pig-man looked on at Sophie and the monster with a seeming sense of shock. A third man was with them. A large blue man, with a not-unfriendly appearance. Sophie couldn’t remember if he was there all along or not. It didn’t matter. They were here now, and whatever that meant, their presence kept the monster at bay.

            Blue-man walked to her side and helped her up slowly. “Please, little sister, accept this apology for the behaviour of my brother.” Sophie found his baritone voice to be assuring. “We do not mean you any harm. Our master, the monk Tripitaka, simply wants to know how it came to be that you have happened upon our company.”

            Sophie looked to the man on the horse, this Tripitaka monk, and then back to the monster still reeling in pain. If she had any chance of surviving, it was with the monk. Guided by blue-man’s gentle hand, she began to follow the strangers through the forest.

            Pig-man held her backpack in front of himself, “Little sister, you dropped this when you fell. I will carry it for you until we are back at our camp.” Sophie could tell he was trying to cheer her up, make her feel better. She simply nodded in silence and continued to stare blankly ahead, hoping the second half of her prayer would come true and she could leave this wretched place.

********

            Hours had passed and Sophie was warming herself by a fire prepared by pig-man. Bajie, she had come to learn, or Pigsy as his friends called him. She held in her hand a cup of tea prepared by Wujing, who told her to call him Sandy. The cup was warm in her hands and the tea was bitter and earthy. Sophie would take sips and let the tea sit in her mouth awhile before swallowing. To her it seemed it was the only part of her existence she had any control over. She had finally stopped crying, but every now and then tears would well up and pour down her cheeks.

            Once they had arrived at camp, Sophie had told Tripitaka all about the events of her day leading up to her being shoved out a store front door and onto the monkey monster, Sun Wukong. Wukong had more titles to his name, but Sophie didn’t care to learn them. Once Sophie and the monk had gone back and forth trying to puzzle out her story, he excused himself from her presence to sit in quiet contemplation.  Sophie sat alone staring into the flames of the campfire.

            Wukong sat at the outskirts of their camp. Sulking, arms crossed, and staring daggers at Sophie. She could sense him from the periphery of her vision but refused to make eye contact.

She didn’t know if she was more afraid of him than she was angry. She was angry at him and knew he was angry at her, which made her more afraid. When Pigsy assured her that Tripitaka had ways to make sure Wukong would behave himself, that seemed to make the monkey even angrier at her. No matter what, she could not allow herself to be alone with that monkey demon.

            The sounds of Pigsy and Sandy setting up camp and preparing a meal, melded with the sounds of the forest: distant birds, chirping insects, and wind through the tree leaves. All the sounds blended together into a silence Sophie was able to ignore. She was tired of thinking, tired of existing; she wished for no more than to slip into nothingness. The only thing that seemed to keep her tethered to the reality was the crackling of the fire and the cup in her hand.

            Finally, the silence was shattered by Tripitaka’s voice. “I have come to a decision.” The pilgrims halted whatever task they were performing to look at their master. Sophie slowly turned to meet his gaze as well.

            “It seems to me that it is the wish of Buddha, as well as the wish of the Bodhisattva, that Sophie accompanies this party on our holy mission. Therefore, she shall act as my servant and assist us on our journey.”

            The monk’s declaration was met with mixed reviews. Sandy accepted the news at face value, Pigsy seemed happy. Wukong was taken aback. Sophie shook her head in denial of the monk’s words.

            “No. I don’t want to do this. I can’t do this.”

            “Master, I beg you to reconsider,” Wukong interjected. “Our journey is hard enough already. If we take her on, she is just going to be another liability.”

            Despite the protests of Sophie and Wukong, Tripitaka stuck to his conviction. “Sophie was offered a job by Guanyin to act as my assistant. I had told Wukong that whatever challenges should befall us, we must face; and you just so happened to fall upon Wukong. I don’t think it could be any clearer that you have been brought here to help keep my disciple in line, though how you might achieve that is a mystery to me.”

            Sophie looked across at Wukong, who again stared back at her. If he was angry at her before, heaven knows what he was feeling now.

            “My disciples shall assist you in your chores, until you find your own footing in this world. And then, you shall be able to carry your own weight on this journey so that you are not a burden or a liability.” The monk stared down Wukong as he finished his sentence.

            “Tripitaka, please, I just want to go home,” Sophie pleaded to the monk.

            “If it was in my ability to send you home I would do so in a heartbeat dear Sophie. Alas, the only one I know of who could perform such a miracle is Buddha and he is not here. As it were, we are on our journey to reach Buddha ourselves, if you wish to ask him to send you home you are more than welcome to accompany us.”

            Tripitaka gave Sophie a sad smile. He was trying to make the best of her sorry situation. There was no denying the truth in his words, however. If she ever wanted to get back to her home, to her mother, she was going to have to accompany the monk on his journey to the west.

[licorice-tea]

Young And Dumb.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: Strawhat reader, gender neutral reader, reader is flirty and bold, cursing, allusions to sex and a threesome, no actual sexual content!!!, pining, kissing 🤭, misunderstandings/ miscommunication, a little bit of arguing, hurt/comfort <3

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: kind of been in a writing slump these past few days, so i just wanted to write and post something, you know? it’s weird bc i have a ton of wips in my drafts, but none of them really felt finished, so i did this whole thing in maybe 2 hours? hopefully it’s enough to pull me out of my little funk so i can get back to posting more regularly! anyway, enjoy!

Law respects you. He respects your choices, your independence from him, even your crew that he doesn’t always like personally. But one thing he absolutely cannot stand is when you do things like this.

The first thing he hears upon walking up to the deck is giggling. Bothersome, but not too loud or unusual that it throws off his routine. Besides; he’s sure his crew must be glad to be above the waves for once, and happy to have the company of the Straw Hats as well. The two crews had wound up with their ships anchored next to each other in the middle of the sea, and agreed to stay there before their courses diverged once again.

He sees you talking to Penguin and Shachi- the source of said laughter. But, Law does a double take when you let out a shriek of laughter. Then he realizes just how closely the two of them are standing to you. You’re not even on the same crew as them, but you look real cozy with Penguin’s hand around your waist and Shachi’s on your shoulder. Of course, he knows your friendliness can border on flirtation (and desperately wants to be on the receiving end of that flirting right now instead of his crew members) but that logic does nothing to calm him.

Law’s perpetual frown turns into a full on scowl as he marches over to the trio you’ve formed. “Penguin! Shachi! Have you…” he loses his train of thought when you give him a quizzical expression, and realizes there is nothing that they haven’t already done. “Your chores. Below deck.”

“Sure have, captain!”

“Yes, captain!”

All three of you look at him expectantly, unsure of why he’s still standing before you. “Are you ok, Law?”

“Ok?” No he wasn’t fucking ok. How could he be when two of his closest friends were throwing themselves at you, and you were letting them? They didn’t even know how he felt for you- no one does- but still. This was just too much for him.

“I need to speak to you, y/n-ya.”

With regard for his serious tone and expression, you wriggle out from between your two friends and follow Law all the way to his office. When you get there and he finally shuts the door, you don’t sit.

Instead you approach him, “Is something wrong? You seemed really upset.”

He looks down at you with a frown. You can tell he’s contemplating his next words before answering, “…Everything is fine.”

“Oh? Ok, so… why are we here then?”

Law breathes deeply, and exhales in a huff. “I need to tell you something.”

“Is it… serious? You’re being kind of weird, Law.”

“I am not.”

“Hm, well, no; you are. But what’s up?”

“I-“ he stops himself and sighs again before continuing. “So dramatic,” you think to yourself. “You shouldn’t get so close to Penguin and Shachi.”

You blink a few times, shocked. He could either be confessing his overwhelming love for you (which you highly doubted, Law had never seemed to reciprocate your affections for him) or giving you some spiel about inappropriate relationships. “Excuse me?”

“They do this kind of thing all the time, y/n-ya; messing around with random women and men, and-“

“And what, Law? I’m an adult, for fucks sake, I don’t need anyone telling me what to do.”

“You don’t understand, they- they want something from you.”

“I know damn well you’re not lecturing me on my sex life right now, Trafalgar Law.”

His face gets hot just from the thought of it. “I am not! But you can’t-“

“Yes, Law, I can. I’m not going to, wasn’t even planning on it; all I did was flirt with them. But believe me when I say I can.”

He’s silent, with an expression akin to that of a bewildered fish. Then it morphs into more of a frown. “I-“

“Don’t even continue with that thought, because you’ve already managed to piss me off beyond belief. Just- just get out of my way.” You step around him and fling open the door to his office before storming off.

That evening, the two crews gather on the deck of the Thousand Sunny for a feast. You find an empty seat, and soon enough Penguin and Shachi place themselves on either side of you.

“Heyyyy y/n.” The first greets you with a sort of awkward, nervous cadence.

“Hey guys, sorry I left without saying bye earlier.”

“Oh it’s fine, you’re good…”

“We’re sorry too.”

This makes you quirk an eyebrow in confusion and look side to side at either of them. “Why would you be sorry?”

They shoot a quick glance at each other, but it’s very obvious because they have to look across you to do so.

“Did you know that, well… Law sort of…”

“He has feeling for you. Big time.”

You almost spit out your drink. “What? Oh, ok, real funny guys-“

“No, no we’re serious!”

“Yeah! You should hear the way he talks about you-“

“All good things, of course, it’d be hard not to- But anyway he was never going to tell you because he doesn’t think you’re interested, blah blah blah-“

“Which is why we decided to try and make him jealous!”

“…I’m so confused right now. No, not even confused just… surprised?”

“Don’t blame yourself, Captain’s hard to read sometimes.”

“Good thing we figured it out for you, right?” Shachi elbows your side, clearly pleased with himself.

“Uh huh...”

Penguin continues “Anyway, we thought it worked when he said he needed to talk to you earlier, but when you came back you seemed sort of upset.”

“Yeah, well he was kind of acting like a dick.”

He sighs, “Law means well, I swear. He’s just… he’s not the best with matters of the heart.”

“That’s ironic.”

Shachi leans over you to address his friend. “Not the best? C’mon man, he has zero experience.”

“Shh! We want y/n to feel for him, not pity him.”

You laugh, “Right, so… what should I do?”

“Do you like him back?” Such a childish way of saying it.. but you do. And you had, for a while, but you’d never acted on your feelings because he’d never seem to like you as anything other than a friend. Until earlier today, when his jealously led him to say some kind of rude things to you. It was no excuse, but it explained why he’d acted the way he did.

You smile softly and look down. “I do.”

“Then go talk to him!”

“Yeah, go talk to him y/n!”

The two men excitedly get you up out of your seat and (gently) push you toward where Law is leaning on the railing of the deck. You laugh and go along with it- if what they were saying is true, what could be the harm in being honest about your own feelings with him?

You walk briskly toward Law, but with purpose, And when you stop in front of him, he looks up from his cup like a deer in headlights.

He quietly greets you with a nod. “…Y/n-ya.”

“Law. Can we talk?”

He nods and follows you to the starboard side of the deck, far enough from where the dinner and light music is. You come to a stop and turn to face him.

“You know, I’ve been talking to Penguin and Shachi…”

Law deadpans, still annoyed about how they were all over you earlier. “Mhm.”

“And they told me something about you. I didn’t really believe it, at first, because you never… Well you never acted like you do, but-“

“Like I what?”

“Like you… have feelings for me?”

“Shit.” He was going to kill them after this. Or at the very least, make sure they had the worst of the chores on the Polar Tang for the foreseeable future. “They… They told you that?”

“Yes, but-“ Law turns and tries to walk off with his fists clenched, before you stop and grab one of his wrists. “I feel the same way, Law. If it’s true, of course.“

“It is.”

You smile. “If you were jealous earlier, you could’ve just said so. Then I wouldn’t have gotten angry with you.”

“You’re not interested in them?”

“No, we’re just friends… But I didn’t think you were interested in me, either, so I didn’t see the harm in flirting.”

Law shrugs, looking down at his shoes. You’ve never seen him so shy. “Well, I didn’t think you felt the same way, so I never, uh, confessed.”

“Well,” you take a step closer, and risk your chances by gently lifting his chin with one hand. “I do.”

Law’s eyes roam over your face, mouth gaping as he searches for his next words. He wants to say something suave and impressive, to take back control of the situation when you so clearly have him wrapped around your finger. However, he comes up with nothing, and decides to try something new instead. Maybe your boldness has simply inspired him to suddenly come up with this master plan, or maybe he just can’t think of anything else with you standing so close; but he kisses you.

It’s slow and hesitant for the first few seconds- you think he’s probably new to this by the way he lips press into yours forcefully and without much intention. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, guiding him to sink his lips into yours rather than have them press flat against each other. He follows suit, then pulls away for a quick breath before going right back for you. He sighs into the kiss this time, and your lips part ever so slightly. He takes this as opportunity try and go a little further- his tongue passes in the slit between your lips and you open them further to let him. What had started off as a small kiss quickly becomes a less than innocent make out session. Law is bold with it, too; nipping at your lips and causing you to gasp so that he can take you by surprise and kiss you that much more deeply (on more than one occasion.) You can both practically feel the tension built up over months of pining after each other dissipating.

At long last you pull away, for fear your mouth will go numb if you let him bite your lips one more time.

And Law asks, slightly panting; “How was that?”

You laugh, genuinely surprised that he’s concerned about his performance in what might’ve been was the best kiss of your life. “Perfect, Law. Just perfect.”

[lgbtimelords]

a fanfic i'll never write, part 3:

couldn't have loved me better

Kara sees the woman lying, bloody and dirty, in the tower’s medical and sighs.

Not another one, she thinks. One was one too many.

Bizarro. Overgirl. Red daughter.

Once is a mistake. Twice is a pattern. Three times is a habit. Four times is… fucking ridiculous.

She doesn’t have time for this. She really doesn’t.

She’s still too tired from her trip to the Phantom Zone. She needs to write that non-existent article for Andrea. She wants to sleep, a day- maybe two. She promised Alex a sister’s night with Kelly and Nia a lunch together. She wants to eat way too many boxes of potstickers until her stomach hurts and wants to watch a movie. She needs to call Eliza, maybe fly over to Midvale, too. She needs to answer all the pilling up texts from James, Lucy and Cat. But all she wants to do is curl up in her bed and cuddle with Lena- not that she’d ever voice that wish.

She wants to go back to that time before the reveal when touching was simple and normal. A hand on Lena’s back. A hug to say hello. A hug to say goodbye. Lena’s hand on the crook of her elbow as they walked together. Fingers through dark hair when it got messy. Fingers pulling up her glasses when they fell to the tip of her nose. Touch was… a thing. Their thing.

Now, other than the emotional and aching hug after Kara’s return, they haven’t touched. And Kara desperately wants to.

Half of it she blames it on her own need to know Lena is actually alive, actually here. And that none of the nightmares she went through in the Phantom Zone were real. She wants to make sure Lena’s heart is actually beating behind her ribs, make sure her head isn’t playing tricks on her and the heartbeat she hears isn't just an illusion. She wants to put a strand of hair behind her ear and make sure it’s as soft as always.

But Lena is careful and unsure around her— and it hurts her a little bit. Although she gets it, she’s unsure too. She’s not sure where they stand. And Kara’s restless nights, she’s too drained, physically and emotionally, to have such an important conversation with Lena right now. And by the heavy dark circles under Lena’s eyes and the way she keeps rubbing the back of her stiff neck, Kara guesses she’s as tired as her.

But now, after being rudely woken up at five am, she watches as Lena takes the woman’s arm- the woman that looks exactly like her- and softly wraps a bandage around it. It’s the softness that Lena does it with that makes Kara stop.

Her fingers softly trace the place where there’s a deep cup in the woman’s arm with a white-ish cream before she delicately wraps it. She does it with the one on her arm, then moves into her wrist- before she’s carefully cleaning a nasty cup above the woman’s brow, Lena’s face too close to her face. It almost looks like Lena is leaning in to kiss her and Kara wants to scream.

“You shouldn’t do that,” she says bluntly, making Lena jump, a hand on her chest as she moves away from the woman, “she should be okay after a while under the sunlamps.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she says, extending a tablet to Kara, “her blood work and every other test we’ve done so far came back human.”

“What?”

“I’m waiting on Alex to come by with the DNA test results but…” Lena trails off, unsure of her own next words.

Kara huffs- half laugh, half disbelief. She throws herself in the chair next to Lena’s computer. Or more like the tower’s computer that Lena is always using and because of that had taken the name of “Lena’s chair”. Lena’s computer. Lena’s side of the tower. Kara likes to hear that.

“That’s a new one,” she says, looking curiously at the woman, “I was half expecting a fight as soon as she woke up.”

“Well, I wouldn’t lose hope just yet,” Lena says, smirk on her face, “this still seems to be one version of you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” she smirks at Kara, “I just think you can be a little hot headed darling, that’s all.”

“Me? Hotheaded,” she gasps, “okay now you’re lying.”

“Oh, so it’s a lie that you used to say punching first, questions later?”

Kara groans again and throws her head back, making herself spin a little in the chair, “I hate that you and Alex talk a lot now. It’s unfair.”

Lena is smiling, that soft and kind smile Kara loves so much- and just when she moves her mouth to answer her, the woman on the bed is groaning loudly. Lena turns around, her face covered in worry, as she gently puts her hands on her shoulders- stopping the woman from moving around.

“Where’s everyone?” Kara whispers, as she hands Lena the syringe she wordlessly asked for.

“Alex should be here any minute, I sent Brainy home because he looked exhausted.”

Lena effortlessly inserts the syringe into the IV and the blonde goes still in the bed again. Now that she’s closer to her, Kara can see that while she does look like her, her face is somehow... different.

There’s some freckles in her face Kara knows she doesn’t have. Her hair is maybe one or two shades darker and there’s a lot of tan lines, one on her face clearly marking her nose, and on her body, she can see the lines of a bathsuit on her shoulders and one tiny scar of a vaccine on the side of her arm.

Her body is not as solid as Kara’s either, she notices when she helps Lena turn the woman to her side so she can tend to the wounds on her back. There’s muscles on her arms and back but they’re not as defined as hers, neither are her abs- they’re more like a soft line on her belly instead of the six pack she possesses.

It’s weird. It looks like her, except that when you look at her, she doesn’t.

“Do you want to have dinner?” Lena asks, as she sits down in one of the sofas in front of Kara, after checking and rechecking the vitals of the woman lying in bed.

“It’s five thirty am, Lena." She’d laugh, if she wasn’t so worried about the fact that the brunette has been neglecting her health again.

“Oh,” she sounds surprised, even as she checks the clock on the wall to confirm that, yes, it is five in the morning. She looks at Kara confused, “What are you doing here then?”

“Alex called. Said she needed to go out and you needed help.”

The answer is just Lena pressing her lips together, “I told her not to call you. You need to rest.”

“Lena-”

“-Kara,” she interrupts, “you’re exhausted. I know you are.”

“It’s okay,” she says, and wishes she could reach out and touch her hand. Be brave enough to do something as simple as to touch someone’s hand. “I want to be here.” With you.

Lena is hesitant but nods anyway.

“Really early breakfast then?”

Kara smiles, “Well, I won’t say no to that.”

They walk side by side, Kara’s pinky touching Lena’s- and she’s gathering all the streghtn inside herself to grab Lena’s hand when a loud gasp makes them turn around.

The woman is sitting up on the bed, the bandages on her arms turning red as she moves her hands up to her throat. She’s coughing and coughing and her back is so arched as she bring her head to her raised up knees that Kara wonders if it’s painful.

“Don’t move too much,” Lena says, walking closer to her and grabbing a water bottle on one of the tables.

It's like the words click a switch on the woman's mind and as quickly as her stiff muscles allow her, she wraps her arms around Lena as soon as she sees her. The woman's hands make a fist on Lena's clothes and her face hides in the crook of Lena's neck.

“My love,” she chokes out like a prayer.

[shuhwaa]

Chaewon | First time eating her out [M]

First Times Event Le Sserafim Chaewon x gn!reader words: ~1.1k genre: smut (shy sub!Chaewon, fingering, oral (all idol receiving), subtle dacryphilia, it’s implied that she doesn’t have much experience yet) warnings: none

You have her pinned against the wall of your room, one leg settled between her thighs making her skirt ride up dangerously high, and you feel her heartbeat racing with your chest pressed up against hers. Nipping at her rosy lips in between hushed words of love and want, you never quite give her the proper kiss she’s undeniably hoping for, until you can hear her softly whine in your grip.

“Y/N… please.” When you bring some distance between the two of you and you open your eyes, you find a deep blush dusted onto her cheeks, and the way she looks at you with doe eyes fills you with the desire to see more of that side of her. She whimpers as you lift your leg, applying pressure to her core, and her thighs clench around you for a second. And as the thought that’s been running through your head at the most inappropriate of times lately reappears before your inner eye, you let out a shaky breath, unable to contain the need to have her making those sounds underneath you instead. You wordlessly take a step back, grabbing her by the wrist and leading her over to your bed. She’s shy, trying to hide her blush behind her bangs as she looks to the ground, but when you give her a little push to make her sit, she lies down on top of your blanket that’s draped over the mattress instead. Intertwining your fingers with hers, she pulls you towards her, and when you hover above her, she wraps her arms around your shoulders.

“Chae…” you call out her name before being brought in for a kiss - the long lasting, passionate kiss she had been wanting so badly. “Baby…” you whisper against her lips, “can I taste you?” There’s silence when you break the kiss, your girlfriend whom you haven’t been dating for long looking up at you with wide eyes. Thinking she might not be ready for that, you immediately add, “If you don’t want me to-”

“No, no!” she cuts you off. “I’ve just never… had someone do that before…” Her reaction suddenly makes sense to you, and so you smile at her.

“It’s okay,” you say. “I’ll take real good care of you.” 

“Okay,” Chaewon agrees with a nod, and after placing another soft kiss onto her lips, you begin to get rid of her clothes. 

Stripped down completely, she’s all sprawled out in front of you now, her gaze that’s resting on you full of expectation.

“Tell me if I should stop,” you mutter as you lean in, scattering little pecks all over her stomach, making her giggle from the ticklish sensation. 

“Yeah,” she answers, and when you glance at her face you see her smiling at you.

“I love you,” you whisper mindlessly as the feeling overcomes you, and you let your lips wander south. Lifting her legs up onto your shoulders, you place a few kisses on the inside of her thigh, nipping at the soft flesh and causing her to moan quietly, before lifting your head to check in with your girlfriend once again.

“Can I?” you ask, barely being able to restrict yourself from the temptation in front of your face. But you wait it out until she gives you a nod, and then you start slow by letting the tip of your tongue lick up a single stripe, causing her to shiver in your hold. You hum at the taste, and when you hear her timidly asking for more, you don’t hold back anymore. Digging your nails into her thighs as you keep her in position, you dip your tongue inside, making her let out a moan almost as sweet as she tastes. You pull out to find your way up, drawing slow circles on her clit as she keeps whining. You feel heat rushing to your own core with the way you’re making her react to you, and it causes you to become greedy. 

“So sweet…” you mumble, and you notice how she’s tightly gripping the bedsheets beside her. “How’s that feel?” 

“F-feels good…” Chaewon whimpers, legs shaking. “Really good…”

“I’ll make you feel even better,” you promise, changing the pattern you’re drawing on her with your tongue and eagerly awaiting her reaction. She moans once again, telling you to keep going like that, and eventually you speed up a bit.

“Y/N…!” she cries out your name, voice shaking. “It feels so good…” Pressing her eyes shut tightly, you can see tears welling up as you glance at her face, face contorting from the pleasure.

“Don’t cum just yet,” you mutter, and the way she whines at your words tells you she’s already coming close. Deciding that this is the right time to make her feel even better, you retrieve one hand from her thigh and as you keep flicking your tongue against her clit, you start to tease her dripping entrance with your fingers. Pushing two digits inside, you make her cry out your name once again, and you moan at the way she begins to roll her hips in tune with your movements when you start curling your fingers inside her. Making sure to hit that sweet spot deep inside with every repetition, she can’t stop whining and whimpering, and then finally you can feel her legs clenching around your head involuntarily as her high comes crashing down. Helping her ride it out as you enjoy the way she keeps calling out your name until the last aftershocks have passed, you pull out carefully when it’s over. You lick your lips as you make eye contact with her, checking to see if she’s still feeling alright, and then you quickly reach over to your bedside table for a few tissues to clean her up. You lie down beside her, letting her crawl into your arms for warmth, and you brush some strands of hair out of her flushed face.

“How was that as a first experience of having someone eat you out?” you ask cheekily, smirking at her. She attempts to glare at you for acting so smug, but soon her expression softens and she cups your face with her hand to connect her lips with yours. You share an open mouthed kiss, wondering if she can still taste herself on your tongue, and when she pulls back, she immediately hides her face in the crook of your neck.

“I liked it…” she admits, making you smile. “Very much.”

[jangofettjamz]

Are You Okay?

Jenna Ortega x Autistic!Male!Reader

Summary: Jenna noticed you've seemed a little down lately, she intended to find out why.

Themes/Warnings: Abelism

Words: 832

Jenna POV

Y/N's been really quiet lately, I mean more quiet than usual anyway but never like this with me. He's usually never afraid to speak his mind, in fact he's usually brutally honest but now... just silence... and I don't like it one bit. I need to figure out what's wrong.

He's currently building a Lego set upstairs, he's a real collector for that sort of stuff, he has his own room separate from our bedroom that contains his gaming setup, action figure collection and lego collection. To say my Y/N is a nerd would be a massive understatement, but I wouldn't have him any other way because he's absolutely perfect. I make my way over to his other room to try and talk to him and figure out what's bothering him.

I knock on his door twice to announce my arrival "babe you in there?" I call only to be met with a small "mmhmm", not unusual behaviour from him; like I said he's quiet but it worries me none the less. "Can I come in, sweetie?" I ask polity.

"Okay" he says quietly 'whats with the quietness' I thought to myself.

I see him sitting at his desk building some Legos, he said it was a very relaxing hobby for him and gives him a sense of accomplishment. "Hey hon' watcha doing" I say cheerfully and lean down to kiss his temple because I was genuinely happy to see him.

"Building" he says bluntly, seemingly annoyed by my presence.

"I see that, is it from Star Wars? I know you really like--"

"Look Jenna I just wanna be left alone, okay?" He says bluntly, his tone sharp as a knife. He's never spoken to me like this before especially in this harsh tone.

"Y/N, sweetheart what's wrong?" I say a little heartbroken by the way he just spoke to me.

"Nothings wrong just leave me be." He says sharply again, he'd give Wednesday a run for her money honestly.

I noticed the dry tear tracks on his cheeks, he had definitely been crying and by the looks of it, fairly recently too. This would explain his mood. I press on a bit further, determined to find the problem.

"Y/N, are you okay sweetheart?" I say.

He quickly glanced at me then returned his gaze to his Legos "I'm fine" he said but his voice betrayed him as I heard the sadness within it.

"I don't think you are fine, sweetie. You've got tears tracks on your cheeks babe, you're not fine at all, please talk to me baby boy" I say desperately trying to get an answer.

"You wouldn't understand" he says barely above a whisper. I turned his head to face me and cupped his cheeks.

"Please" I say softly.

His eyes turn glassy, wetness forming in them as he sniffles softly "Percy called me retarded" he said quietly.

"WHAT?!" I'm in complete disbelief. Despite my numerous rejections, Percy has been trying to get with me for months but I explained to him that our relationship was professional. He's said and done a lot of things but THIS is unacceptable.

Y/N broke instantly, the tear floodgates had truly opened and were spilling down his face like a dam. He's a fragile person and calling him such a vulgar slur with such malice is disgusting.

"Y/N can I hold you baby" he nodded erratically and threw himself into my arms, burying his face in my neck.

His tears were making my neck wet but it didn't matter he was all that mattered. "Why can't I just be normal?" He sobbed out, anger swelling within me; not towards him but towards Percy Hynes White.

"Shhhh don't say that babe, there's absolutely nothing wrong with you, being autistic doesn't make you less of a person." It seems to calm a bit so I continue to speak while stroking his back. "What he said was absolutely vile, sweetheart and it isn't true. He's everything wrong with the world put into one person and you're the exact opposite of that."

He lifts his face out of my neck. "You don't think I'm retarded?" I felt my heart shatter, Percy really got in his head.

"No sweet boy, you're not retarded. Never think of yourself like that, it breaks my heart that you'd even have to question that." I say with absolutely sincerity.

"You really mean it?" Pull him into a kiss on the lips, we pull away and he got the message that I meant what I said.

He sniffled and wiped his nose. "Thanks babe, you're too kind to me" he says making me chuckle.

"Nonsense you deserve every ounce of love in this world and I'll give you all of mine" I say "C'mere sweetheart" we embrace each other, my lips kissing the top of his head.

"Can I build legos with you" I ask and his eyes brighten and nods enthusiastically which makes me kiss all over his beautiful face. He so wonderful.

My sweet boy.

[ironmandeficiency]

the hobbit + hozier songs

characters included: kíli, bilbo, dwalin, thorin, nori, bofur, ori, fíli, dori, tauriel

word count: 1166

a/n: the amazing and precious @wordbunch inspired me to write these bc of her lotr/th characters as taylor swift songs posts & i couldn't be more excited to finally post this labor of love!! thank you bestie for listening to me scream abt this for nearly two months lol

kíli: foreigner’s god

he loves outside of his race and this fact causes undue scorn to be thrown at his feet. it’s unheard of for almost any dwarf, let alone one from the line of durin, to do such a thing. this does not deter him - it empowers him; if his heart could go against the traditions forged into his bones, molten in his hot blood, how could it not be true? the strength of his love is what helps him ignore the doubts shouted by the prejudice plaguing those who know nothing of his heart. that, and the sound of your laughter at his antics, the soft smiles only given to him when he’s being a little too charming… he could go on.

bilbo: like real people do

as much flack as bilbo gets from the company for not being conventionally tough, he’s not weak by any means. he’s familiar with the pain of loss, and how the ways one tries to rise above the grief that follows aren’t always savory. he knows there’s a respect to be found in the absence of prying questions, choosing simply to coexist in the feelings and allow answers to come in their own sweet time. he’ll put some tea on to cook and scrounge up some leftovers from the previous meal, sitting beside you and letting the comfort flow naturally, his soft lips soothing the most tender aches.

dwalin: work song

just looking at him, you wouldn’t think dwalin a sap. but with his insanely strong sense of loyalty and stalwart dedication, he can’t be anything but. he’s faced down innumerable evils in his time, braved the fiercest of storms that many of his comrades didn’t; none of them even come close to keeping him from you. your arms welcome him home without question after each fight he braves, and your letters tucked into secret compartments in his armor keep him warm between embraces. he’ll read them by the fire every night when he’s away, every gentle word carrying his mind away from thoughts of the day’s turmoil.

thorin: sedated

this sweet, sad man doesn’t think he deserves good things in life. this, unfortunately, includes having someone love him despite his flaws and past mistakes. he couldn’t resist admitting his feelings for you and was ridiculously shocked that you reciprocated & allowed him to love you. on nights when he feels his failures deeper, he’ll try to convince you that he doesn’t deserve you. vitriol will escape from worried lips and terrified heart, piercing you in the way only a lover knows how. a soft kiss, gentle words, and a few strokes through his hair will soothe these wounds from him for a time and allow him some of the peace he’s fought to find, but doesn’t always believe is earned.

nori: it will come back

it was decades since the last time nori thought of love, even longer since he believed himself worthy of it. meeting you only solidified his disbelief; how could someone look at him and see someone that deserved such a pure thing, after everything he’s done in his life? he’s stolen, lied, cheated, and killed to survive (and sometimes not for mere survival). his attempts to spurn you away from him only increased your determination to break through the fortress he built around himself. he could only be strong against your advances for so long before he crumbled, reluctantly accepting the love and peace and safety you offered so freely.

bofur: nobody

bofur’s done a lot in his time. he was born in the blue mountains, a colony that never seemed to find the prosperity needed to do more than simply survive. he is a brother, uncle, cousin, friend, toymaker, miner, member of the great company that reclaimed erebor. but through all his adventures and hardships, he never lost his playful streak. he wants to have fun with who he loves, wants a little bit of mischief to make his laugh louder and brighter. bofur is a fun-loving soul who, despite his wandering past, will always choose you over anywhere that you’re not.

ori: francesca

ori’s life has never been a peaceful one. being raised by dori and being followed by the whispers of his late amad’s reputation (not to mention nori’s) without a mountain to call home, it weighed on his shoulders. even his craft, the pride of every dwarrow worth their beard, happened to be one seen as miniscule in importance compared to smithing. every moment spent with his one, doing anything or nothing at all, eases the burden he carries and makes every moment of strife worth it just to be with the soul made to mirror his.

fíli: i, carrion (icarian)

your love for him seems almost too good to be true, the remnants of stories told in dusty tomes written by those with far more eloquence than he can claim to possess. that being said, he is definitely not one to look a gift boar in the mouth. he relishes in each tender moment, every second spent in your presence that carries him far beyond the constraints life has placed upon him. but he recognizes that life isn’t always so simple, retreating into your arms and wishing that everything around you both just disappears. there’s always reality, waiting patiently outside of your chambers for one faulty misstep to throw you both askew. that’s why he dedicates himself to showing you that if life does what it does best and deals harsh blows, he will be there for you through it all.

dori: shrike

dori never had time for love; he had two brothers to protect, one more wily than the other was young. his focus was on getting his brothers through the days, putting food on their plates and the semi-frequently used stash of bail money well-stocked. he allowed his feelings for his one to fall to the wayside in the name of preservation. he ignored their call for decades and braved out the pain that came with such a silence. he begged for his one’s forgiveness every time they called for him. but once the mountain was reclaimed and his brothers safe, he yearned for what he could have had. he would approach his one with much regret and sorrow for the time lost, but a pure hope that they could find forgiveness in their heart for him.

tauriel: unknown/nth

to earn her love is a feat unlike that which the world has known for a long time. being seen as worth all these mortal struggles and painful toils in the eyes of an elf, let alone one as fierce as tauriel, is quite the achievement to anyone outside looking in. to the red-haired warrior in question, though, giving her love to you has the same unthinking ease as breathing; it’s beyond instinct to do and just as necessary to her survival. you’re worth every century spent alone, every moment after knowing you spent away from you.

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

looks that kill.

summary: you're a groupie, who has a night of fun with two members of corroded coffin - eddie munson and steve harrington.

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x rockstar!steve harrington x groupie!fem reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: threesome, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex, watching in a ceiling mirror, spanking, hair pulling, degradation (slight), ass play (brief), taking photos, mentions of 🍃

a/n: I posted this to my ao3 back in May! reader & characters are 18+.

minors, please do not interact or follow. i will block you.

——————

“That’s it, baby. Pull my hair again, just like that.”

You looked down at Eddie Munson, the man of every one of your dreams. He was accompanied tonight by his bandmate, Steve Harrington, and you almost had to pinch yourself to assure it was real. You had been following Corroded Coffin around for a year, going to many shows and hanging around backstage, but luck hadn’t been with you then. Other groupies had gotten to them first, and you had to settle on roadies or opening acts. Tonight, however, had been your fortunate night, and you had found yourself in their sights. Conversation turned to kinks, to sex, and a threesome had been proposed by Eddie. You & Steve were immediately on board, and before you knew it, you were being led to Eddie’s hotel room. You were now in his bed, everyone’s clothes scattered around the room, and the smell of pot and cigarettes was blanketing the air. He had a mirrored ceiling above his bed, and you watched everything in it from time to time. You preferred seeing them directly, and what a sight that had been.

“She’s so wet,” Steve said, his bass-calloused fingers caressing your thigh while Eddie’s own fucked you ruthlessly. The sounds of his fingers, and of him licking your clit, were driving you wild with pleasure. “I’ve never seen a prettier, wetter pussy. Have you?”

“Never,” Eddie breathed, groaning as he placed his mouth over your clit and flicked his tongue. “Shit, I’ve never seen a hotter slut, period.”

“Neither have I,” Steve said, pulling Eddie in for a sloppy kiss as you watched them. Eddie’s fingers moved more swiftly, curling around your sweet spot as you gasped sharply. Your grip tightened in their hair, and Steve drew back from the kiss with a smirk. He and Eddie exchanged a glance, with Steve slapping your thigh. You mewled, and Steve smirked again. “Aw, listen to that. She loves it.”

“Of course she does,” Eddie said, lapping at your clit a bit harder. “She’s a depraved little whore. I don’t think she has a single turn off.”

“I don’t,” you said, bucking against their touch. “I want you both of you to fuck me. I want one of you in my ass and the other in my pussy.”

“How about one of us in your throat and the other in your pussy for now?” Eddie suggested. “I really want to see those pretty lips wrapped around a dick.”

“Can I suck Steve off?” you asked. “I really want you to fuck me, Eddie.”

“Then let’s do it,” Eddie said, standing as you groaned impatiently. “None of that, baby. I want you to cum around my dick, not on my face yet.”

“You’re a dream come true,” you said, Eddie coaxing your head to the end of the bed as Steve stood there. “Both of you.”

“Ditto,” Eddie answered, climbing on top of you as he held your mouth open by his thumb. “Keep that mouth open, baby. I also want you to watch, as best as you can, in the mirror. I want to see us both fucking ruining you.”

You tried to speak, so Eddie moved his finger to allow it. “Do you promise? I want this to be memorable.”

Steve slapped your cheek with his cock, causing Eddie to giggle as he held your mouth open again. “Believe me, it fucking will be.”

Steve took that as his cue. He kept your jaw hinged open as he entered your mouth, his own moans joining Eddie’s as he entered you as well. He began pounding your cunt, your filthy moans muffled by Steve’s cock down your throat. He pushed deeper and you choked, causing Eddie to chuckle and wrap his ringed hand around your throat. Eddie could feel the bulge of Steve’s cock, and he squeezed to get a reaction. Both you and Steve mewled, his lashes fluttering as Steve grabbed a fistful of your hair to push impossibly deeper.

“Christ, what a sight this is,” Eddie said, grabbing your jaw next. “Look up, sweetheart. Look in the mirror to see what’s being done to you. Look at yourself taking both of us, like a good fucking girl.”

You did, and instantly saw that he was right. The sight of being fucked like that, from that particular angle, was one of the hottest things you’d ever seen. You began touching yourself, and you fully expected one or both of them to slap your hand away. They didn’t; they continued what they were doing, Eddie’s hair in your face as he eclipsed the mirror. He kissed your neck, what he could of your breasts, your jaw, your shoulders. Steve was still holding your hair, shoving in and out at Eddie’s pace. You knew you’d be sore, and not just from their rhythm and speed. Both men were huge, Steve surprisingly moreso, and you knew there was no getting out of this without being unable to walk or talk for a few days. But you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“She’s so tight, Steve,” Eddie said, throwing your legs over his waist for a deeper angle. “How’s her mouth?”

“Incredible,” Steve panted. “I don’t think I’m going to last long, dude.”

“Shoot your load in her mouth,” Eddie demanded. “If that’s okay with you two.”

You nodded as best as you could, as did Steve. He twitched once in your mouth, then twice, and you knew it was almost over for him. You hollowed your cheeks, reaching up to jerk him off every time his cock came out. Your other hand clung to Eddie, clawing his back each time he slammed into your sweet spot. He watched both of you, occasionally licking Steve’s shaft when it reappeared. That was it for Steve, and he filled your mouth with cum and the air with moans of your name. You mewled hotly as his taste flooded your tongue, Eddie moving his head so that you could see in the mirror again. The sight, plus Steve’s taste, triggered your own orgasm, and you rubbed your clit even harder at the sight of it. Both men watched ravenously, Steve pulling out so that they could hear your moans properly. You didn’t disappoint them, and they gave you a moment before Eddie pulled out and yanked you up.

“Did you swallow his cum?” Eddie asked.

“Not all of it,” you said.

“Open up,” Eddie instructed. “I want to see what’s left.”

You did so, and Steve & Eddie groaned as they saw. “Damn, I wish we had a camera,” Steve said.

“We do, remember?” Eddie said, grinning as he got up to retrieve a Polaroid camera. “It’s for shows, but I think we can make some exceptions for her.”

Eddie snapped a photo of your cum-coated tongue, then another of your breasts & pussy upon your consent. “Shit, that’s gonna be good material to beat off to.”

“I agree,” Steve replied. “It’s gonna be so much better than any magazine.”

“You’re telling me,” Eddie said. “So will the one where she rides my dick.”

“You’re a lucky bastard,” Steve said, watching as Eddie pulled you onto his lap. He laid back on the bed, smiling as you straddled him. “She’s so damn hot.”

“She’s the hottest groupie we’ve ever fucked,” Eddie said, eyeing you lustfully as you rubbed your pussy against his cock. “Don’t tease me, y/n. That’s a dangerous game you’re playing there.”

“I wish we could keep her,” Steve said, his hands slowly running up your sides. “I’d love to fuck her every night after a show.”

“Maybe we could,” Eddie considered, biting his lip as you sunk onto his cock. “Fuck, I still can’t get over how goddamn good she feels.”

“I wanna feel her, too,” Steve said, kissing your neck from behind as he cupped your breasts. “So badly.”

“You can later,” Eddie replied, watching as you began bouncing on his cock. He looked up at the ceiling mirror, groaning as he did so. “Both of you, look up.”

You and Steve did so simultaneously, seeing everything from a new angle. You weren’t watching for long, however, as Eddie gave a sharp thrust from below. You met his eyes in the mirror first, then again when you looked down at him. He was angelic, with his curly dark hair spread over his pillow, his cheeks flushed, his full lips parted. Steve was kissing your neck and shoulders, while you worked on setting a steady rhythm with your hips. You braced yourself on Eddie’s chest, nails digging in as his cock fucked against your sweet spot.

“Move your hands away from her tits, Steve,” Eddie demanded. “Wanna see them properly.”

Steve did so, reaching down with one hand to play with your clit. He sucked a dark hickey on your neck, right where your shoulder connected. Eddie gazed into the mirror every time you sped up, then would eye you from head toe, before meeting your eyes. Each time you clenched around him, his eyes would roll back and his grip on you would tighten. He watched your breasts as Steve continued touching you, his fingers occasionally tweaking your nipples before Eddie swatted his hand away to do it himself. He moaned when he groped your tits, your nipples hardening further under his touch as you bounced even harder.

“Such a sexy whore,” Eddie remarked, slapping your hip as Steve rubbed your clit quickly. “Are you going to cum again? With me this time?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, scratching down his chest as hard as possible while he twitched inside of you. “Please…I can’t wait for you to cum inside of me.”

“I will,” he said, squeezing your breasts as he watched you. “Do it with me, baby.”

Steve held your throat in one hand, squeezing slightly as his other hand still worked your clit. He choked you a little harder, and that, along with riding Eddie, did you in. As soon as you came, Eddie did as well, filling you up with a groan of your name. Steve was getting hard again; you could feel him against your ass. You rocked backward, delighting in the mewl that slipped into your ear. His breathing also quickened, and you chuckled as you tried to get off Eddie’s cock to kiss Steve. Eddie had other plans, however, and he held you in place upon consent, before turning you onto your back while still inside of you. You didn’t know how it was possible, but he was still rock hard, and the new angle caused you to cry out in ecstasy as he began thrusting. Steve lay next to you, one hand wrapping around his semi-hard cock as he watched.

“I’m not finished with you, baby,” Eddie said, grinning. “In fact, we’re only getting started.”

“Shit,” Steve groaned, stroking his cock. “Do you want some pictures of this?”

“You bet I do,” Eddie said. “Be a good boy and take some, will you?”

“Please do it,” you begged. “And Eddie, please don’t stop fucking me.”

Steve grabbed the camera, and began snapping away. He lay down again after a few minutes, watching it in the ceiling as he jerked off. Eddie was sucking your tits, his fingers rubbing your overstimulated clit as you whined and squirmed. Eddie was sweating, his hair damp with it, the smells of that and sex nearly overpowering that of weed & cigarettes. He pulled out, throwing you onto your stomach and giving your ass a hard slap. He pulled your head up as Steve took another photo, before he set it aside to move closer to you.

“Can I please fuck her now?” Steve asked. “I’ve waited so long already, dude; I don’t think I can any more.”

“Alright,” Eddie said. “As long as y/n is okay with it.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please. I wanna feel his big dick inside of me.”

They switched positions, while Eddie went to retrieve something. Steve began fucking you hard, while Eddie dug around for what he was looking for. He came back with condoms and a bottle of lube after a short time, chuckling when he saw your confusion. He squirted some lube onto his fingers before coaxing Steve off of you, giving him a light swat at his impatience. Eddie pressed his slick fingers to your hole before circling them, pressing one inside of you with a mewl. You moaned as well, clawing at the sheets as Eddie pushed in to the final knuckle. Steve reached for the camera again, but Eddie stopped him.

“Go put that on a tripod,” he instructed. “While you’re at it, get the camcorder and a blank tape, too.”

You moaned at that. “We’re going to make a sex tape?”

“If that’s what you want,” Eddie said as Steve grabbed the items.

“Fuck yes,” you said. “I wanna see both of you fucking me like that.”

“You’ll get that, and more,” Eddie said, adding a second finger as Steve sat everything up. “The night is young, remember?”

————

taglist: @littledemondani @andvys @wroteclassicaly @succubusmunson @eddieschains @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @trashmouth-richie @reidsbtch @taintedcigs @happylilthought @sunkillerdreamer @eiightysixbaby