#in service of a god she loathes

[bestworstcase]

what ruby says: are we supposed to be mourning jaune’s make-believe friends?

what she means: jaune labeled all the paper pleasers with the names of his friends and then abused them for years, ignoring everything they told him about what they wanted because he decided they needed to be protected from themselves because they were too stupid and crazy to really mean what they said. (<- ruby knows exactly how that feels.) the paper pleasers were not his friends, he didn’t care about them—they were props to make him feel better. they were real people whom jaune treated like toys to play pretend about saving his real friends. the make-believe hero. and ruby’s supposed to feel sorry for him now? because his little toys finally broke free?

what wby+j probably hear: ruby thinks it’s stupid to care about the paper pleasers because afterans aren’t real people.

what salem says: none of that matters anymore! why spend our lives trying to redeem these humans when we could replace them with what they could never be?

what she means: the brothers never had the right to massacre humankind, and now that they have abandoned remnant, abdicated their responsibility as its creators, and sworn not to return until they’re summoned, nothing they say matters at all. these humans did nothing wrong and the gods gave them nothing and deserve nothing in return; trying to ‘redeem’ these humans is a waste of time because there is nothing to redeem. the only person alive who needs redemption before the gods is salem herself, and she doesn’t want it—because to redeem herself is to justify what the brothers did, to say that the slaughter of the whole planet and the millions of years she spent in solitude were good and just and fair, and she knows that isn’t true. the gods want humans to grovel for forgiveness? the gods can burn.

what ozma probably hears: salem wants to kill everybody because she doesn’t think these humans are real people.

[koppaiterocker]

Branch/Creek and Floyd/Creek (however that came about) wouldn't work because if he was alive in the same vicinity as Viva she would murder him 10 times in a row. And then do it over again

[misojunnie]

CHERRY ─ psh. ❀

a lollipop a day keeps park sunghoon away…

# genre: outcast!sunghoon x class prez!fem!reader, enemies to lover, slow burn, high school au, 90’s au

# warnings: insults, minor violence, substances/partying, cursing, lil makeout sesh, minor bullying, portrays some idols in a bad light; inaccurate and not how I view them!

# featuring: sunghoon & enha! + txt + aespa

# playlist: not for sale by enhypen, still into you by paramore, chaser by woodz, high school sweethearts by melanie martinez

# a/n: hi guys!!! it’s insane that the cherry teaser got so many likes omg. ty guys so much!! plz enjoy <3 (dont let this flop)

# word count: 13.1k

# taglist: @alicesolengg @ningngyu @ramenoil @simjakeissohot @skzenhalove @parkhonnie @denleave1088 @voidbeomgyu @ilymarkchan @everyoneluvscheol @haerinpham @fakeuwus @chesh1re-cat @advesperamz @papiibuprofen @loveliii @cutiejseong @luvyouchuu @hancafe @aeminju @chaerybae @b1ndignity @edilysoob @river-06 @fariylixie0915 @amortenha @hoonpalettes @asyleums @moonmoongi @jyndre @parksunghoonsgf @whippedforbeomgyu @dianzed @soobliss-blog @manooffline @iscocohere @saythenameseventeen178 @woniewonn @luv4cheol @tinylittlebuggi @h-hazwie @ddazed-lhs @enhacolor @hiqhkey @webqrl @ilovewonyo @aesunghoon @hanienie @jrjr289

it isn’t a well disguised fact that park sunghoon doesn’t like you–no, hate would be a better word. park sunghoon hates you, and he makes it clear to everyone who knows him. but when you leave him a different flavored lollipop every day, it gets a little harder to loathe you.

[more under the cut!]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 - chapter i.

Park Sunghoon finds solace in the fact that he annoys you. 

He isn’t sure he truly does, as you’re quite adept at keeping your face blank when something pisses you off. But for a moment, that bright, customer-service smile slips, and the left corner of your lip twitches when he sneers at you from across the room. That’s how he likes it. He likes that he has an effect on you, negative or otherwise, although it was always the former.

“You need to let it go.” Jake sighed as he watched Sunghoon’s eyes follow you across the room when you stand to pass out the second semester chemistry syllabus. “I don’t even understand why you don’t like her."

“How could you not?” he phrased his question like a statement.

“Well, first of all, she’s my math tutor.” Jake says, smacking the top of his best friend’s head with a rolled up spiral notebook, crumpling his notes. “So I have to get along with her. And second of all, she makes it pretty easy considering she’s such a catch.” Sunghoon groaned in annoyance, a petulant frown on his pretty face.

“God, you’re so brainless.” Sunghoon whined. “You’re just another one of the idiots completely infatuated with her.” 

Well, why wouldn’t he be? You’re the president of the school council, head of the party planning committee, photographer of the yearbook club, and the school newspaper’s best writer. It’s an intricate balancing act, and a wonder that you could keep it up on the daily.

“I’m not infatuated.” Jake said with an indignant hiss. “I just don’t hold stupid grudges– shit, she’s coming.” The Aussie cleared his throat and painted an enthusiastic and eager smile onto his face as you approached the boy’s shared table.

“Good morning.” you chirped, and Jake grinned in response. “Here’s the syllabus.” You passed a double sided sheet of paper to each of them, gently setting it down on the desk. It didn’t escape Sunghoon’s attention that his was wrapped up in a roll, a piece of tape closing the document into a cylinder. You sent him a soft smile, looking at him through your lashes, before backing away from the table and moving onto the next pair of students who were waiting to receive their assignment. Sunghoon rolled his eyes, hesitantly peeling off the strip of adhesive and unrolling the paper to reveal the object inside, Jake peering curiously over his shoulder in an attempt to see.

“God, she’s still at it.” Sunghoon groaned, reaching down to pick up a small lollipop, a vivid yellow and wrapped in a holographic piece of cellophane with a little red ribbon tying it closed. “I thought she might’ve stopped.”

“Dude, you’re so lucky.” Jake breathed enviously, and Sunghoon looked at him with distaste. “You know how many guys in this school would kill to get a lollipop from her?” Sunghoon ignored his best friend's implorations, unwrapping the treat and shoving it into his mouth. 

Lemon. He hated lemon. 

When he looked back to the front of the classroom, you were setting the remaining stack of papers on the teacher’s desk, peeking at Sunghoon’s reaction. You seemed somewhat pleased to see the boy sucking on the sweet you had left him, and you sent a bright smile in his direction. His eyes were drawn to your shirt, which was adorned with what he thought was a very tacky depiction of a dove and some hearts, and he inwardly grimaced. Apparently, it wasn’t too inward judging by the look on your face. 

He smirked, lifting up his hand and subtly sending you a different kind of bird with his middle finger. Your smile dropped entirely, and you rubbed your lips together in annoyance, retreating to your desk with a mix of frustration and despondence. That made him very satisfied.

“Would it kill you to be nice for once?” Jake asked, a skeptical look on his face as he watched the entire encounter go down. Sunghoon shrugged, setting his hand down on his desk and strumming his slender fingers on the wooden surface.

“Probably.”

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

Today was yet another failed attempt at making Park Sunghoon like you. 

You had to admit, you weren’t entirely pleased with your lollipop arrangement, and by that, you meant that you hated it. Treating Sunghoon like a human being with real emotions was so hard when he was such a piece of shit. You let out an exhausted sigh, hopping onto the counter of the candy shop. Your best friend laughed at your theatrics, wiping his hand with a white rag and tossing you a packet of red licorice.

“What’s the problem?” Jungwon asked inquisitively as though he didn’t already know the answer. “Sunghoon again?” His tone was filled with pity, and you hated it. You rolled onto your stomach, ripping open the packaging and tucking one of the red ropes into your mouth with a heavy sigh, blinking twice hard, before frowning.

“He’s not budging.”

“That’s a shame. I’m almost out of lollipop flavors.” Jungwon tutted with disappointment, reaching into his pocket and removing his hand with a treat, barely able to hold back the anticipating grin on his face. He tossed it to you. “Or am I?”

“You’re a lifesaver.” you sighed, pocketing it. “I’m not sure how you keep coming up with more.” Your best friend simply shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Chef’s secret,” he smiled.

Jungwon had adored candy since you met him, but the only thing he adored more than eating candy was making candy. This came in handy during basically every holiday or romance related occasion. A handmade bouquet of chocolate covered strawberries, a box filled to the brim with toffee, or a lollipop. He liked lollipops the most. “Maybe you should stop with the lollipops. I’m down to my last vial 0f strawberry flavoring and our restock isn’t until next Monday.” he scrunched his nose up at the thought.

“What if he gets pissed off once I stop giving him them, and then he gets even meaner?” you wondered aloud. “What would I do then?”

“Um, report him to the principal?” Jungwon suggested, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and you shot up into a sitting position.

“Absolutely not.” you hissed. “I have to beat him.” You raised your fist to the air, seething with vengeance. “I will make that pretty bastard like me, goddamn it.” This was it. Jungwon was convinced that you had finally gone ‘round the bend. A ringing sound resounded through the shop as someone pushed through the front door with a grin.

“Did someone say pretty bastard?” he said, arms held out playfully as he turned his nose up to the ceiling. You only pouted in response. “Awww, baby what’s wrong?” he asked, circling his hands around your waist and pressing a kiss to your forehead while Jungwon stuck out his tongue.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” you dismissed the topic with a wave of your hand and a sigh. You knew very well that if Heeseung got word of the way Sunghoon was treating you, you’d have a dead body on your hands. “How was practice?”

“Pretty good. Coach says I’m doing well. Could get a scholarship.” He cuddled up to you, until something hard and spherical hit him in the face, and he gripped his nose with a groan, bending down to pick up the fallen object.

“No cuddling in the store.” Jungwon said, a hand on the door as he came back to the counter, a thin white stick protruding from his mouth. “It’ll scare the customers.”

“Likely.” Heeseung scoffed, yet he pulled the wrapper off the lollipop and shoved it in his mouth, swirling the sphere on his tongue. “You wanna go see that new movie, Ten Things I Hate About You? It’s playin’ tonight and Beomgyu said it’s good.” You laughed, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth with a wet ‘pop’ sound, and tucking it between your own lips. Jungwon gagged on his lunch.

“I don’t trust any movie that Beomgyu says is good.”

“Ah, c’mon babe. It’ll be fun.” he said, returning his hands to your waist as you smiled. He had a way of making you smile even when you were at your lowest.

“Alright.” you caved, and he pumped his fist, planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Glad you said yes, because I already bought tickets.” You chastised him, but he only laughed and grabbed your waist, lifting you off the counter like a sack of potatoes while you shrieked. “Thanks for the sucker, Won!”

“Yeah, yeah. Have fun!” he yelled after the two of you until you were out of sight, hopping into his old Dodge Viper with lovesick, giddy smiles on your faces. Then the boy sighed, rolling his eyes. “Pricks.”

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

“Red Vines.”

“Gotta be Charleston Chews.”

“Ew, no fucking way. Charleston Chews are just s'mores without the best part.” you scoffed, finger wagging in your boyfriend’s face as the exasperated teenage cashier watched you argue about your candy choices for the movie you were about to watch.

“I’ll let that go, because I love you.” he warned. “But Charleston Chews are the best candy.” Despite his protest, he reached for the Red Vines on the shelf and dropped them next to the cash register as he removed his wallet from his pocket.

“Thanks, baby.” you kissed him on the cheek, and he sent you a grin for the reward. “But they definitely taste like shit.” you said cheekily, and he smacked you lightly on the top of the head, before grabbing your Red Vines and pulling you away.

“I’ll get you back for that.” He teased, and you stuck your tongue out. “Oh shit, I left my Coke at the register.” You laughed at his blatant forgetfulness as he smacked himself in the forehead. “Go, hurry. I’ll wait here.” He darted out the exit, excusing himself and apologizing as he ran past a pair entering the theater, almost knocking their popcorn out of their hands. “Where’s he off to in a rush?” one of them asked incredulously, the other mumbling incoherent responses as they seated themselves. Great, the teenage cynics who apparently had a grudge against your boyfriend were sitting right next to you.

“Heeseung’s really been busy lately.” one said, and your ears perked up at their use of his name. “With scholarships, and all that. Must be hella tired.” The voice sounded oddly familiar, but you couldn’t exactly place who it belonged to.

“Yeah, as if.” another scoffed. “He’s probably busy making out with his fuckface girlfriend.” Your eye twitched.

“C’mon, don’t be mean. What’s she ever done to you?’ another said.

“She’s awful. You’re so gullible.” the same disparaging voice said, and you huffed. You recognized that drawl, you had heard it somewhere but you weren’t sure where. “Heeseung’s an idiot. The both of them can go to hell.” Enough was enough. You stood, reaching over to the cynical boy sitting directly next to you and grabbed the front of his shirt, and even though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel his shock.

“You got something to say about me and my boyfriend?” you hissed.

“Have you had your break today? We all need to get away, there’s one place that’s on your way,” the jolly actors sang as the screen suddenly lit up with an advertisement, the lights turning on and revealing the boy before you. 

“Y/n?” Sunghoon asked incredulously, and you grit your teeth. He got a reaction out of you. You had completely played yourself.

Despite your instant regret, you continued to grip on his shirt. “Park Sunghoon.”

“What are you doing here?” he hissed under his breath, and your eyes darted to Jake, sitting beside him. He looked utterly stunned. He had never seen you react to Sunghoon’s tauntings before; even Sunghoon never had the pleasure of seeing you burst out in a properly angry reaction.

“Seeing a movie with my boyfriend.” you muttered. Sunghoon didn’t respond, and you thought this might be the first time you had seen him off guard.

You dropped his shirt, letting him plop back down onto the cushioned seat.

You had seriously messed up. Sunghoon was never supposed to see you angry, more than anyone. You were about to do some damage control when Heeseung strode straight through the swinging doors with a box of Charleston Chews and a plastic cup of Coke so large it looked like it could cause diabetes immediately upon consumption.

Heeseung always had incredibly bad timing.

“Hey baby.” he slid into the seat next to you, pecking a kiss onto your cheek. He coughed on his soda pop when he saw the pair staring at him, seated directly next to you, one boy looking at him like he had just ran over his cat. “Oh, hey guys. Jake,” he said, nodding to the older boy of the two. “How’s varsity tryouts?”

“Going good.” Jake said meekly. The two were acquainted from their time on the rugby team, yet Jake suddenly felt extremely intimidated by the older boy. You said nothing, leaning back in your seat with a perturbed look on your face.

Once you and Heeseung finally struck up a conversation, Jake leaned in and grabbed the front of Sunghoon’s shirt with an extremely stressed expression.

“Are you trying to get us killed?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Sunghoon snapped, not sounding sorry at all. “Christ, you really had to book the seats right next to Jack and Joan Sprat?”

“I didn’t know they’d be sitting there.” Jake said through gritted teeth, and it was easy to see that the poor boy was at his breaking point. “I would just like to get through this movie peacefully.” he rubbed his temples, expecting protest. But to Jake’s surprise, the boy didn’t complain. He was much too busy staring at you. “Sunghoon?”

“Yeah, I got it.” the boy rolled his eyes, turning away. Jake looked at him in a double take, shocked at the boy’s compliancy, but pleasantly surprised. 

Maybe this would be a nice trip to the theater after all.

Of course, nothing could be peaceful when you and Sunghoon were in the same room together. The tension was undeniable, even to your oblivious boyfriend.

Safe to say you only registered about half of the movie.

Not to say that the film wasn’t engrossing. In fact, you were beginning to seriously enjoy it. Sunghoon, however, was enjoying the movie a bit less than you were.

“This is so fucking stupid.” he muttered to Jake as the main characters bickered on screen. “This would never happen in real life.”

“That’s why it’s a movie, dumbass. Now can you shut up? You’re seriously bumming me out.” Jake snapped back, slapping the back of Sunghoon’s head. Sunghoon reached over to retaliate, knocking his cup of Sprite over in the process, spilling the entire contents of the plastic container directly onto your skirt. You squealed, and Heeseung cursed, pulling you up as he dug in his pockets for napkins. You glared at Sunghoon and saw that he looked rather surprised at his own action, and for a moment you doubted if he did it on purpose. But then the look of shock shifted into one of satisfaction, and you chose to not give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Gosh, I’m sorry.” Sunghoon said in a way that told you he wasn’t sorry at all.

“That’s one hell of a mess.” Heeseung kissed his teeth, attempting to use the napkins to clean off your skirt, but the people behind you began to boo at your obstruction of their view. “Alright people, Jesus. We’re moving.” He took your hand and pulled you back down, still attempting to dry you off. While you greatly appreciated the effort, it was doing practically nothing to help.

“It’s okay, Hee.” you said, pushing his hands off with a tight smile. “It’ll dry.” You sighed, reaching for the box of Charleston Chews. You didn’t even like this stupid candy, but you needed something sweet to calm your temper or you were going to kill someone. Your hand exited the box covered in melted chocolate, and you threw your head back in displeasure. But suddenly, an idea struck you.

The sacrifice of your boyfriend's candy was worth it.

You sloppily upturned the box into Sunghoon’s lap, the half-melted chocolate slipping onto his light tan pants as he inhaled sharply, his lip pulled between his teeth. 

“Whoops.” you said with a smile, turning back to the screen.

Sure, you were done being nice to Park Sunghoon. But you still tucked a sucker into his pocket, hoping he would find it on his way home and at least have some kind of consolation for his ruined trousers.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

Sunghoon collapsed onto his bed, reaching under his bed frame for something beneath. When his hand emerged, it held a dark green spiral notebook, with a pencil held by a strap of elastic. He swirled the lollipop around his mouth, thinking carefully for a few moments before flipping to the next open page on his notebook.

“June 15th, 1999… Strawberry… cheesecake…” He mused under his breath as he jotted it down on the lined paper, biting the inside of his left cheek with furrowed brows. “Maybe just strawberry cream?” he thought to himself, biting the end of his pencil before shaking his head. “Had to be cheesecake.” He surely sounded insane to anyone who was listening from the outside, yet this was a nightly routine for the teen, notebook and pencil in hand as he pondered the flavor of the day.

He had tasted birthday cake, banana split, bubblegum, gingerbread, black licorice, pina colada, pretty much any flavor that even Willy Wonka himself could come up with. He thought he might’ve had every lollipop flavor in the universe, and the pages of his notebook had become worn with your endless supply of sugary treats.

However, he did find it odd that you had never given him cherry before.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐄 - chapter ii.

There was something you had never told anyone. Not to Heeseung, not even to Jungwon, and you told him just about everything, maybe too much. No, this secret went untold, and you planned to take it with you to your grave.

Park Sunghoon was your first love.

It’s not like he ever loved you back. This was your freshman year of high school, the first time you met the young charmer, who at the time was wide eyed and raven haired, quiet and not very conversational. At the ripe age of 14, he wasn’t fully comfortable in his skin yet, not making many friends and focusing on building his figure skating career rather than on his grades. He was nerdy, he was awkward, and he was always alone in the cafeteria, picking absentmindedly at his food while he daydreamed. 

He was beautiful. You found yourself unable to look away.

Even in your freshman year, rising up the school hierarchy wasn’t difficult. You joined the school council in your first week at Decelis High, easily acquiring the vice president position once election day came around, leading you to take the president position eventually. You started writing in the newspaper club in your second month of high school, your teachers recognizing your potential and promoting you to head editor as well as a journalist, and students immediately began to respect your brave commentary on the school’s weak ethics and poor handling of their students. School was improved when you joined, and the student body found that their day brightened up when you walked down the hall with your signature smile. 

Which is why it was odd that you fell hopelessly head over heels for a quiet boy who interacted with no one and didn’t speak unless spoken to, head perpetually in the clouds. And despite your undeniable popularity, he never paid a lick of attention to you.

It took until your junior year for him to even speak to you. When his head wasn’t somewhere over the rainbow, he was focusing on skating, skipping classes to run to the rink for a quick session with his trainer. And when he wasn’t skating, he was playing soccer. Through the rose tinted lenses of love, you thought he was an excellent player, but supposedly his coach didn’t agree. He was benched for nearly all his games.

You never told him you had feelings for him, but the closest you came was when you showed up to the soccer game he was playing in with a button on your shirt that said “Go Sunghoon!”. You cheered for him the entire time, even if the only reason he was playing was because Kang Taehyun had sprained his ankle. 

Sunghoon scored one goal, but the more experienced player had sucked up the pain and decided to jump into the game last-minute, scoring the winning goal and sending the audience into a frenzy like they had just won the olympics and not an amateur high school soccer game. The team picked up Taehyun on their backs and ran around the field toting him on their shoulders like a trophy, and poor Sunghoon was left on the bench with a frown, wishing that he could’ve been the one on their shoulders being celebrated. You felt so bad for him that you stood up, cupped your hands around your mouth and yelled for his attention, garnering weird stares from those next to you, but you didn’t care. When you yelled his name with a cheer, he looked up into the stands and sent you the most luminous smile you had ever seen, one that could’ve made the sun itself envious of his radiance.

Which is why it confused you when he hated your guts less than a year later.

You never really understood why Sunghoon disliked you. It was a mystery, not only to you, but to everyone who knew about it, even Jungwon, who had seen more ugly and intolerable sides of you than anyone. Nobody really knew why Park Sunghoon despised you, so they just stopped trying to figure out why. 

But not you. You needed to know why he didn’t like you, why the boy who you loved so dearly ended up hating you so much he was spiteful at your mere existence.

Your first memory of Sunghoon was the first day of high school, when he came through the school gates with a big, red sucker in his mouth and an overwhelmed look on his face. So you decided lollipops were the best way to win him over. 

But with every canned stick of orange creamsicle, every discarded cotton candy and crushed lemonade, your feelings slowly left you until the love you once felt for the boy disappeared as he left his tally on your heart, then faded into nothing.

Then you met Heeseung. On January 1st, just as the clock struck midnight at Choi Yeonjun’s New Years party, he asked you to be his girlfriend. And suddenly, you didn’t really care if Sunghoon loved you back or not.

But you never stopped wanting him to like you.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

You were entirely done with being nice to Park Sunghoon. After nearly a year of being treated like the scum on the bottom of his shoes, you weren’t afraid of him anymore, you weren’t afraid of showing him how truly done you were. But Jungwon still had buckets full of lollipops left for you, so you supposed the lollipop charade could go on for a bit longer.

You still didn’t like him though. That’s what you told yourself.

“She’s acting differently.” Sunghoon scrunched his eyes into scrutinizing crescents as he watched you stride down the hallway nonchalantly. Just a moment previously, you had met his eyes while you walked, textbook clutched to your chest, and rather than sending him a joyous smile or a wave, you ignored him as though he wasn’t even there, which shocked him thoroughly. 

Plus, it was the fourth period and you hadn’t even given him a lollipop yet.

“You’re just salty that she poured her Charleston Chews on you. You’re imagining it.” Jake scoffed, eyes attached to his book, scanning over every word.

“No, you don’t get it.” Sunghoon huffed exasperatedly, arms crossed as he watched you saunter to Heeseung’s side and allow him to pull you into his embrace. “She’s never ignored me like this before. She doesn’t just… look away.”

“So she doesn’t like you anymore. Big deal.” Jake shrugged, but Sunghoon seemed rather upset by this sudden change of events. “You fumbled the bag, that’s all.” Sunghoon’s eyes shot to his shorter companion as they narrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“C’mon, dude. You had y/n y/l/n, the ultimate sweetheart of Decelis High, practically begging for your attention, and you were nothing but mean to her. I mean, anyone would want to be in your place. Of course she’s sick of you.”

“Yeah but-”

“But nothing.” Jake punched Sunghoon’s arm, putting a soft dent in the fabric of his puffy jacket, and the weaker of the two winced. “You were fucking bogus.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Sunghoon snapped, swatting Jake’s hand away with a scowl. “I was a loser.” When Jake nodded, affirming Sunghoon’s self-diss, he sent him a glare. “Well, what am I supposed to do about it?”

“Nothing, bro. Just move on and stop being such a dick.” Jake shrugged, walking away with his nose still buried in his book, leaving Sunghoon to think. Did he really care if you didn’t like him anymore? Would it be so bad for you to continue to ignore him? 

The answer was yes. Undeniably so, because he despised you, and it only brought him more joy to see you struggle. Sunghoon liked being catered to, and you had just taken away his greatest pleasure. 

The game was on.

“Jake, it’s simple.”

“No, it’s not.” Jake rubbed his forehead frustratedly as you attempted to explain the permutation formula to him for the fortieth time that day. He was supposed to be good at math, at least that’s what Jay said, and Jay was almost always right. However, you realized after a few tutoring sessions that Jake was a bit less attentive in math class as his friend made him out to be. “Why is there an exclamation point?”

“The exclamation point is to demonstrate how you’re supposed to multiply the number by each number following it, consecutively.” Jake looked like you had just told him to grow wings and fly, and you took the paper from his hand with a small giggle. “Jesus, Jake. You look like you got three hours of sleep last night and your dog shit in your cereal.” He let out a chuckle.

“You’ve got half of that statement spot on.”

“I’m going to assume it’s the former.” you said playfully.

“You got it.” he sighed a second time.

“Wanna talk about it?” He huffed, like the mere memory of his stressors were enough to upset him even when they weren’t present.

“It’s nothing…” You knew it wasn’t nothing. “It’s just Sunghoon.”

Bingo.

“He’s so oblivious sometimes.” Jake said exasperatedly. “Although, most times I’m pretty sure he’s being dense on purpose.” You stared at him blankly and he rested his chin on his palm. “He’s so stubborn. I always tell him to just let things go, to move on, but he never listens.” You didn’t need an explanation to understand what he was talking about. “I don’t know. He’s just felt so negative recently. Especially today.”

“What’s so different about today?” you asked, elated that he was frustrated at your indifference, which wasn’t indifference at all judging by how much you cared.

“Nothing, for most of us.” the Aussie shrugged. “I suppose he’s just feeling a bit abandoned.” You raised an eyebrow, and Jake seemed to notice his misstep. “T-that doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Sure.” you snorted, pulling the sheet of paper you were supposed to be attentively solving into your lap, flipping through your binder for the notes.

“Are you free on Saturday night?” Your eyebrows practically flew to your hairline.

“Depends on who’s asking, and why.”

“Yeonjun’s throwing a party.” You were very well aware of Choi Yeonjun, a freshman at Hybe University. Even after finally graduating a few months ago, his parties were a must for the top tier of Decelis’ elite students; namely the popular kids. You didn’t often frequent parties, but Heeseung and Yeonjun were quite close friends. You had never missed one of his parties, and you didn’t plan to break that record.

“I wasn’t aware.” you picked up a pencil and began scrawling, eyes on your lap.

“It’s a smaller thing than usual. Just some friends, and friends of friends. Maybe a few friends of friends of friends.” You allowed a smile to pass over your lips, and Jake smiled in success. “So you’ll come?”

“I’ve never missed a Choi party.” you shut your notebook and passed the completed homework back to its owner. “I’ll give you the answers, just for today.”

“You’re the best, y/n.” Jake grinned as you stood, holding your binder to your chest, smiling in response.

“I know. Oh, and Jake?” he tilted his head as you removed a green lollipop from the pocket of your pleated skirt, sliding it across the table until it came to a stop just before his hands. “Give this to Sunghoon.”

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

Park Sunghoon was absolutely fuming.

Typically, when school was over, he’d come home, collapse on his bed, write down the lollipop of the day, and then firmly put you out of his mind. But today, for the first time, he found himself unable to do any of those things. He sat on his bed, staring at his wall silently. He was in a haze. He needed a distraction, asap.

When the doorbell rang, he ran downstairs in record time.

“Hit the brakes.” his little sister snapped as he dashed to the door, pulling it open, excited even to see the mailman. He was surprised to see his best friend on the other side, who gave him a sideways look.

“Your scowl is freaking me out.” Jake said, hands in his pockets as he strolled inside. Sunghoon closed the door behind him.

“Get used to it.” Sunghoon replied petulantly, and the two boys walked back up the stairs to Sunghoon’s room. “What brings you to my part of town?”

“I’ve got news.” Jake said, flopping down onto Sunghoon’s bed with a smug expression on his pretty face. “Oh, but before I forget.” Jake reached into the pocket of his blue jeans, removing a spherical object and tossing it in Sunghoon’s direction. The younger boy caught it, his face brightening subconsciously.

“Finally,” he rolled his eyes, unwrapping the lollipop and tucking it into the side of his mouth, sucking on it thoughtfully.

“As I was saying I-” Sunghoon ignored Jake’s ramblings, ducking under his bed and reaching for the green notebook, rifling through the mess under his bed frame. Typically, he’d be too embarrassed to do this in front of company, but he couldn’t find it within him to care. “Did you hear about Yeonjun’s party this weekend?” Sunghoon ignored him, removing the lollipop from his mouth and shoving it towards Jake.

“Do you think this smells like apple?” he asked, and Jake swatted his hand away.

“Did you hear anything I just said? And I’m not putting my face anywhere near something that’s been in your mouth.” Sunghoon rolled his eyes again, turning his attention back to his notebook as Jake stared at him. “Are you even listening?”

“I’m listening.” Sunghoon waved him off, but Jake could swear he heard him muttering fruits under his breath.

“Yeonjun’s having a party this weekend.” he repeated, and Sunghoon looked at him blankly, finally putting his pen down.

“So what?” he scoffed. “You’ve never wanted to go to one of those parties before. They don’t want people like us there.” Jake narrowed his eyes.

“People like us? They’re fine with me, you’re the one they have a problem with.” Jake said, pressing his pointer finger into Sunghoon’s chest while the latter frowned. “In fact, I happen to have an invitation, considering me and Heeseung are friends.”

“I don’t want to go to any party that Heeseung is going to.” Sunghoon refused childishly, and Jake kissed his teeth.

“I don’t get what your issue with Heeseung is. Hating y/n was bad enough, but Heeseung is especially innocent.” Jake shook his head when his best friend opened his mouth to protest, slapping his hand over his mouth before he got the chance. “I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t wanna hear it.” Sunghoon remained silent.

The two boys sat quietly for a moment, just looking at each other, both as stubborn as the next. Jake broke the silence, sighing exhaustedly.

“Will you just do this one thing for me? Please?” Sunghoon pursed his lips. On one hand, he hated partying. He wanted nothing to do with it. But on the other hand, Jake Sim was his best friend, and he loved this boy more than he loved himself. And he had been a pretty shitty friend recently.

And so, the boy with iron resolve, and an even stronger temper, nodded his head.

“Fine, but seriously, just this once.” he said, wagging his finger when Jake’s face broke out into an enormous smile as he leapt up from the bed. “Never again, okay?”

“Pinky promise!” Jake said, running out the door and down the stairs, slamming the front door behind him as Sunghoon shook his head.

What had he gotten himself into?

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐏𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 - chapter iii.

Park Sunghoon had a confession. It was one that he hadn’t told anybody. Not his family, not his friends, not even Jake, who he told nearly everything. No, this was a true secret. One that was bursting at the seams, that he desperately wanted to confess.

You were his first love.

Well, he assumed you were. He had no idea what love was; he was only fourteen at the time. But it felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest when you didn’t meet his gaze, and it felt like he was on cloud nine when he spotted you staring.

Sunghoon wasn’t one to make many friends. He wasn’t a social creature. He couldn’t say that was how he liked it, because he wasn’t necessarily sure that was true. He didn’t know if he liked to be alone, or if that was just how it had always been. But that changed when he met you.

For once, he found himself wanting to be around someone. The minute he laid eyes on you, he fell head over heels. You were everything he wasn’t. He knew he was in love with you when a junior tried shoving Jake into a locker and you punched him in the face. Even Sunghoon didn’t have the courage to stand up for Jake like that.

Sunghoon admired everything about you, but he knew you could never care about him. You were president of the student council, head of the party planning committee, photographer of the yearbook club, and the school newspaper’s best journalist. You tutored, you played multiple instruments. You liked being around people. You were brave and righteous. You were everything he wished he was. Why would you like him? He was just a loser who skipped class to skate and wished he had a little more courage.

But sometimes, he saw a little glimmer of hope for the two of you. When you came to his soccer game and only cheered for him, when you lent him your favorite pencil, when you left a note on his desk saying you liked his diorama the best. Sometimes he even thought that he could be with you if he finally followed his heart. 

The only issue? Lee Heeseung.

Captain of the varsity rugby team, runner up for valedictorian, king bee of the school. He was loved by everyone. He had more friends than he could count, and the same for his admirers. When he wanted something, he got it. Sunghoon supposed you counted for that as well. It was obvious that he had a crush on you. Everyone knew you and Heeseung would date eventually, even Sunghoon.

Sunghoon had never fought for anything in his life, but for once, he was willing to fight for you. Until something happened that changed his perspective of you completely, something that made him despise you so much, he could barely contain it. Nobody knew what changed, but one day, Sunghoon dedicated his life to hating you. 

You had no idea why.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

Jungwon thought he could find out something about your past with Sunghoon if he sleuthed hard enough, but he was finding it more difficult than imagined.

He had checked the records in the principal's office —with the cover story that he was doing an investigative report— three times over, and he had yielded nothing. He asked nearly everyone he knew for any kind of background information. He even checked with the newspaper department, hoping they had some kind of trashy gossip if nothing else. Most of what he heard was entirely useless, consisting of people trash talking Sunghoon and hyping you up entirely too much. Jungwon thought they’d reconsider their words after witnessing you on a bad day.

He sighed frustratedly, collapsing into the principal’s chair, kicking his feet up onto the desk. Absolutely nothing.

He cocked his head when the door unlatched, slowly creaking open no more than an inch or two. A sneakered foot snuck its way inside, the rest of the intruder following, letting out a yelp when he saw Jungwon sitting skeptically in the center of the room.

“What are you doing here?” Jake said, a hand on his chest as he exhaled rapidly.

“What are you doing here?” Jungwon repeated his question back at him. Jake and Jungwon were mostly ambivalent towards each other, but there was always some distaste. After all, they were the best friends of mortal enemies.

“I…” Jake stared at him blankly. “I’m checking the records.”

“What a coincidence. So am I.” The two boys sized each other up, wondering if they might be there for the same reason.

There was no way.

 “How’d you get in?” Jake said after a beat.

“Front door.” Jungwon replied, and the older boy frowned.

“Yeah, I gathered that. I mean, what did you tell administration to get in here?”

“I told them, ‘I want to check the school records.’” Jake shook his head, reaching for the desk containing the files of all the information on every student.

“Are you kidding me? Administration would rather die than let me in here.” Jake sorted through the files. He paused, frowned, then thumbed back and forth for a moment before straightening up and crossing his arms. His eyes widened when he saw the missing file he sought splayed out on the desk, just underneath Jungwon's shoes. “Why were you looking at Sunghoon’s personal file?” Jake said with an accusatory tone, and Jungwon paled, snatching it off the desk and tucking it away into his jacket.

“You’re imagining things.” he said quickly, and Jake rolled his eyes, turning back to the file cabinet. He removed your file, looking at Jungwon pointedly.

“Are you here for the same reason I am?” he asked. Neither of them wanted to admit it, but they were both certain they had the same goal.

Jungwon nodded slowly. “I think so, yeah.”

“You want to find out what happened with Sunghoon and y/n, don’t you?” Jake asked, and Jungwon averted his eyes sheepishly. There was a moment of silence before the two boys broke into laughter. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Jungwon smiled, crossing his arms. “Let’s work together.”

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

Sunghoon was having a horrible day.

Most of Sunghoon’s days were below average, simply because he didn’t often feel like having fun. But that day, he had woken up with a sinking feeling in his stomach and a furrow between his brows. That day was going to be a horrible day, and he knew it even at 6:45 am when the snooze button on his alarm stopped working.

He got to school with no bad occurrences, almost forgetting what was making him so upset. But when he saw you and Lee Heeseung, his lips on your neck, he suddenly remembered.

It gave him momentarily relief when he recalled the apple sucker from yesterday, but when he caught himself smiling, his mood only soured further.

“Morning, sunshine!” Jake chirped, attacking from behind and ruffling Sunghoon’s hair cheerily. Sunghoon glanced back to give him a glare, attempting to repair the damage Jake had done to his hairdo.

“You seem awfully jolly this morning,” he said gruffly.

“I don’t know. Something good is in the air this morning.” Jake hummed, hands in his pockets and a significant spring in his step. 

He couldn’t very well admit that he was orchestrating an entire plan to get you and Sunghoon alone together so you’d finally resolve your issues. And he definitely couldn’t mention that he was plotting in cahoots with your best friend. 

“Yeah, right.” Sunghoon scoffed.

“I’m assuming that —once again— you’ve chosen to have a bad attitude today?” Jake asked rhetorically. He already knew the answer. He knew his best friend well enough to decipher when he was upset, although it was easy enough that anyone could probably tell; Sunghoon was in an awful mood on most days.

“It’s not something I choose.” Sunghoon scoffed, still messing with his hair.

“Sure it isn’t.” Jake said sardonically, punching him in the shoulder as Sunghoon glared, rubbing the sore area. “Don’t be a- oh hey!” Sunghoon whirled around at his best friend’s sudden topic switch to see you dashing past. “Hey, did you do the chemistry homework last night?”

“Of course I did.” you scoffed. “I’m assuming you didn’t?”

“Clearly you know me well. No chance I could get the notes off of you?”

“No chance, sorry Jake.” you laughed like the tinkling of bells. “But who knows, I might pass you the answer sheet while the teacher isn’t looking.”

“You’re the best!” he grinned as you saluted playfully. Your joyous facade faded for a moment when your gaze locked with Sunghoon’s briefly. You searched his face for any sign that he had received your gift, but his stoic glare firmly remained. You held back the urge to roll your eyes, turning on your heel.

Your lack of a response only made Sunghoon more upset. He was scowling hotly, so much so, that it was certain you could fry an egg on his head.

“She’s such a pretender. Can you fucking believe that?” You heard him scoff just before you left, an accusatory hand pointing in your direction. Jake cocked his head, and Sunghoon’s scowl deepened. “She didn’t even acknowledge that I was here!”

“Why should she?” Jake laughed, tucking his hands into his pockets and walking away as Sunghoon froze on the spot, practically shaking with rage.

Oh, you were going to regret ignoring him.

It almost made Sunghoon sick to think about how much he used to like you.

He thought of all the times he had written your name in his notebook surrounded by hearts and little angel wings. All the times he wished he could bring you flowers, or tell you how he felt. All the times he watched Heeseung sweep you off your feet, and felt bitter resent in his throat. For the first time in his miserable 14 years, he was certain he was in love. It was a bit far-fetched, considering he had only spoken to you once or twice. He didn’t know if he had ever had a full conversation with you.

What was it all for? Why did the girl he loved have to hurt him so bad?

It made him think that life wasn’t very fair. That people were egocentric, they didn’t consider others feelings. He was pathetic, he knew that. He should let it go, forget about what happened between the two of you and move on. He had his own life, you had yours. His existence shouldn’t center around the hatred of another human being.

Maybe hating you was an escape. Maybe he hated you because he couldn’t handle the thought of loving you anymore.

The line between hate and love was very fine. Even he knew that.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

You really didn’t want to go to this party. The more you thought about it, the more you felt sick to your stomach.

After the week you had, drinking with a bunch of teenagers sounded like the last thing you wanted to do. Even being around your friends and boyfriend sounded deeply unappealing; for the first time you could remember, you just wanted to be alone. But you knew this was important to your clique, and so you sucked it up, brushing the dust off the front of your party dress and turning around to your friends.

Ningning and Karina sat on the bed, on their phones. Ningning was dressed in an orange tube top dress, Karina wearing an identical one in purple. Neither of them noticed you until you cleared your throat, and they fawned over your dress.

They were your friends, supposedly. You liked them well enough, and they seemed to like you the same. They were sweet girls, but you didn’t really connect. The only reason you were friends was because you were popular, and so were they. You were living in a dog-eat-dog world, where popular girls became friends with each other to avoid making enemies. You wished it wasn’t like that, and you had a feeling they did too.

Yeonjun walked into the room with a big, cheesy grin on his face, toting your boyfriend behind him. Further back were Beomgyu, Huening Kai, Taehyun, and Soobin, the rest of your boyfriend's older friends. See also: people you didn’t really connect with.

“Are you girls ready?” Yeonjun asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes as the group crowded in. Heeseung came from the back of the procession to take your hands, and it felt like a breath of fresh air. You sighed as the others engaged in conversation.

Heeseung frowned. “You okay? You usually love Yeonjun’s parties.” You brushed some stray hair out of your face and painted on a smile.

“I’m fine, Hee. Thanks for looking out for me.” you said. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, adjusting your necklace so the clasp was aligned with the nape of your neck.

“Anytime you wanna leave, just say the word. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” You held his hand with a smile.

“Don’t worry about me, baby. Just have fun.” you ushered him towards his friends, and he gave you a brief look before he went to join them. The crowd filed out of the bedroom and into the living room, ready to party.

You sighed, looking at yourself in the mirror for a moment and taking a deep breath to relax yourself. You had no idea why you were so nervous. You had done this a million times around. You knew the party scene like the back of your hand, it was the life you had been living for the past four years.

You stared at the pink dress you were wearing. It was your favorite dress, yet somehow it didn’t feel good anymore. The lamp from the ceiling shone on your necklace, the bright, diamond letter H catching the light.

Usually, you tried not to let Sunghoon get to you. He was just a jealous, rude, idiot who wanted to bring you down for no reason. But today, his words reverberated in your head, ringing painfully, no matter how hard you tried to get them out.

She’s such a pretender.

It made you wonder, was he right? Were you putting on a show for everyone but you? You had played your role so well, you had almost fooled yourself.

Sometimes you got tired of being perfect. You got tired of keeping up your facade all the time. You almost lost yourself in the process.

Maybe Sunghoon was right. Maybe you were a pretender. Maybe hating you meant that he was the only one who really understood you.

And maybe that was a good enough reason to hate him a little less.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 - chapter iv.

“For the record, I am not happy about this.” Sunghoon said for what must’ve been the millionth time that night. Jake had forced him into a button up and combed his hair, in comparison to his usual overgrown bangs and old band tee. He cleaned up nice, but the boy’s foul expression was enough to drive off any prospective attention.

“Tough luck.” Jake said, adjusting his chain as he smiled charmingly at himself in the mirror. “It’s one party. You’ll be fine.” Sunghoon continued to grumble.

He wasn’t used to seeing himself done up nicely. He felt too vulnerable without his long bangs hiding his eyes and a hoodie to cover himself up. It didn’t feel right to see himself fixed up like this, but he kept telling himself that it was only once, for Jake.

Jake looked down at the watch on his wrist, a string of curses leaving his lips.

“Shit, Sunghoon, we gotta go. We’re late.” he grabbed his jacket off the coat rack, dashing out the door while Sunghoon dragged his feet behind him.

“We’re fashionably late.” the younger boy corrected, Jake turning around to give him an impatient look, nodding his head towards his car.

“We’re gonna miss all the fun, c’mon.” Sunghoon frowned.

“What a shame.” he mumbled under his breath, following his best friend into the car and praying that this night would go well, and without conflict.

That was wishful thinking.

Sunghoon instantly knew he was right when they pulled up into Yeonjun’s driveway. He could hear the music pumping from inside the house, so loud it made his ears ache. He could see the crowds of people through the enormous glass windows, and grimaced at the idea of being among the masses of sweaty bodies. Jake however, seemed delighted, and so Sunghoon tried to put a smile on his face.

Jake turned off the ignition, leaning over to his best friend and studying the blank look on his face. “Ready?” he asked, and Sunghoon nodded with an exasperated sigh, unbuckling his seatbelt and slamming the car door behind him. Jake rolled his eyes.

“This is going to be a nightmare.” Sunghoon said, unable to hold back a quip. Jake patted him on the shoulder, ringing the doorbell with a grin.

“Let’s see if you can last the whole night.”

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

It had only been an hour and your head was already pounding.

All the lights felt too bright, the music was too loud, and too many people were trying to talk to you. After having your crisis of self merely 60 minutes previous, you were definitely not in the mood to make conversation with anyone. You downed your third vodka soda of the night and felt everything get a little hazier. You were satisfied when the sound got a little quieter and the lights became less harsh.

Toting your fourth drink in hand, you dropped down to the couch. Most people were busy dancing, thank God, and the only people on the couch was a girl vomiting in Yeonjun’s best porcelain vase and her friend coaxing it out of her. You didn’t mind it too much. At this point, you were craving some humanity.

You felt a little at ease when Jay sat beside you, smiling in greeting. Jay was pretty much the only one of Heeseung’s friends whom you actually liked.

“How’s the night going?” you asked, sipping on the red cup in your hand.

“It’s alright.” he said, his words slurred as he rubbed his nose. It was clear that he had more than a few drinks, probably a couple past his capacity. “Your friend- what’s her name? Tried talking to me earlier.” You didn’t bother to inquire. “Ning? Ningning?” he laughed to himself. He was obviously drunk, so you took another sip and ignored his ramblings. Even the most sensible of people were insufferable to you at the moment. 

He sniffled briefly, and you studied his face. You could practically see the gears in his head turning as he poked his tongue into the flesh of his left cheek thoughtfully.

“Hey,” he suddenly said, looking at you very seriously. “I’m really sorry about that Sunghoon thing, y’know. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and it’s really been bothering me.” You furrowed your brows.

“What Sunghoon thing?” you said, and his jaw dropped open, laughing drunkenly as he covered his mouth. Clearly he had said something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Oops, did Heeseung never tell you?” he said, trying to backtrack. “Oh, we just fucked with Sunghoon a little in sophomore year. You know, back before you and Heeseung started dating.” An awful feeling crept into your insides as you stared at him relentlessly until he finally continued. “We, uh, we just wrote him a letter or something like that.”

“What did it say?” you demanded.

“Oh, you know.” he said for the thousandth time, and you were beginning to lose your patience. He took a swig of your drink to loosen his tongue. Jay knew he shouldn’t be the one to tell you about this, but his conscience was pressing him to continue, and so he did. “We just said some mean stuff, called him a freak. Told him to stay away from you. It was Heeseung’s idea, really.”

You felt a pit in your stomach. You felt so sick, you didn’t even have the capacity to register the anger bubbling up in your throat. Why would your boyfriend do this? What had Sunghoon ever done to him?

You didn’t even notice that you were defending Sunghoon over Heeseung.

“Why would you do that?” you asked blankly, and Jay stood up quickly, stumbling drunkenly as he almost lost his balance. He sensed that he said something he shouldn’t, and if he kept drunkenly blabbering, Heeseung would definitely kick his ass for it sooner or later.

“Uh, you should ask Heeseung about t-this.” he stuttered, evading before you got angry. He had never seen you upset before. Nobody had, with the exception of one.

You stood from the couch, downing the remainder of your drink, feeling the alcohol leave a burning trail down your throat before you tossed the cup to the side.

You had to find your boyfriend.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

Dear Sunghoon,

I know you have a crush on me. I’m sorry to say this, but I really don’t reciprocate your feelings. To be honest, I find it disgusting that you think you even have a chance with me.

Maybe you haven’t realized, but we come from completely different worlds. People actually like me. You might not know what that feels like, but it’s actually pretty nice to be liked. I get good grades, I make friends, I do the work. Something you wouldn’t know much about. You’re nothing compared to me. You have no idea what it’s like to be admired, or to have friends. Maybe that’s because you’re always alone, daydreaming like a fucking loser.

I could never love someone like you. You’re a freak.

Sincerely, y/n.

P.S. I’m in love with Lee Heeseung.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

Jake, that bastard, had absolutely disappeared. He had left Sunghoon stranded in a house full of strangers. And not just any house; the house of the man he disliked nearly the most. Well, after you, then Heeseung, then Jungwon… you get the point.

Sunghoon wasn’t a big drinker, but he downed any alcohol he could get his hands on. His fourth shot of vodka left a fierce burning in his throat, and he tried his best to ignore it. Alcohol was just about the only thing that could make him feel a little less alienated in a place full of people that despised him. With every sideways glance, even an admiring or curious one, he felt more and more like running away. But he promised to stick around for the night, and he was a man of his word. Most of the time, at least.

He felt his eyes almost roll into the back of his head when Lee Heeseung approached him, toting one of his goons behind him.

“Can I help you?” Sunghoon said from behind the rim of his cup, brows raised skeptically. Heeseung had a foul look on his face, one that Sunghoon hadn’t really seen before. He seemed to be a jolly guy most of the time.

“What are you doing here?” he said, voice low.

“Sorry, I wasn’t informed that you were Yeonjun’s security guard. I’ll be on my way out, if need be.” Sunghoon said sardonically, and Heeseung’s scowl only deepened.

“I’m warning you, watch what you say to me.” Heeseung said, pointing so closely, his index finger nearly brushed his chest. “I think we both know you don’t belong here.”

“Wow, it seems like you’ve got an attitude problem. Not as innocent as everyone thinks, huh?” Sunghoon didn’t shy away from the contact, attempting to close the inch difference between their heights. It was a lot harder than it seemed. “Just like you little girlfriend.” he provoked, and Heeseung grabbed the front of his shirt, jaw pulsing.

“You watch what you saw about her.” Heeseung said through grit teeth. “You’re just jealous, and we all know it. She could never love someone like you. You’re a freak.”

I could never love someone like you. You’re a freak.

Sunghoon furrowed his brow. He tried his hardest to keep his lower lip from trembling. He couldn’t show that he was hurt, no matter what.

“I’m not afraid of you.” he said.

Heeseung scoffed. “You’re pretending.”

“I’m not the only one.” The two boys stood in silence for a beat.

Heeseung dropped Sunghoon’s shirt, adjusting his jacket with a glare. “Fuck you, Sunghoon. We come from different worlds, you have no idea what it’s like to be me.”

We come from completely different worlds. 

You have no idea what it’s like to be admired.

With that, Heeseung was gone, his lackeys disappearing as well. And it was all coming back to Sunghoon, biting his lip furiously to distract from the burning in his eyes. He downed the rest of what was in his cup, wandering back to the kitchen.

Maybe he wasn’t welcome here, but he was going to drink them dry before he left.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

“I have a surprise for you!” Jungwon waved his arms excitedly. You stared at him, completely unamused. Your best friend definitely had the worst timing ever.

“I’m a little busy.” you said, trying to push past him to no avail. You didn’t feel like explaining your situation, not until after you talked to your boyfriend. 

“It’s really important,” Jungwon insisted, pressing his hands to the small of your back and steering you towards the staircase. You tried to squirm out of his grip but gave up about halfway through. You would humor Jungwon and see his stupid surprise, then you’d find Heeseung and have a serious conversation.

“Okay, right this way,” Jungwon mumbled, pushing you into a spare guest bedroom. “Wait here for just a moment, I need to get something ready.”

“How long is this going to take?” you said exasperatedly, flopping down onto the bed and crossing your arms.

“Just a minute!” he yelled before slamming the door, dashing away.

As he walked into the corridor, he high fived a certain blond haired boy, Jake rushing by to find his respective best friend.

“Some guy upstairs said he was looking for you.” Jake said, jabbing his thumb at the staircase. Sunghoon’s brows knitted, looking up skeptically before taking another swig of the drink in his hand.

“Me? Was it Heeseung?” Jake shrugged ambiguously.

“Don’t know. He was walking real fast, muttering your name. I think he went into one of the rooms upstairs.” Sunghoon put down his cup, rolling his eyes and heading quickly to the staircase. Jake grinned successfully, trailing behind the boy as he muttered strings of profanities and insults.

“What the fuck does he want…” Sunghoon grumbled, opening the first door he saw when he went upstairs, shutting it in exasperation when a couple screamed, their intimacy interrupted. Jake grimaced; Sunghoon seemed unaffected. He continued this with three more doors, until he finally reached one with a white frame and a silver handle, one with squeaky hinges, one that locked from the outside.

“Where is he-” Jake shoved the boy with all his might, slamming the door behind him as his best friend yelped, pounding on the door. Jungwon came running from around the corner, diving for the doorknob with a key in hand, turning it firmly in the lock. No matter how much Sunghoon protested, it was futile.

“Nice one.” Jake said, high fiving the younger boy as the two proudly celebrated their success. They stared at the door until Sunghoon’s protests went quiet, and the culprits were left with an awkward silence as they registered their actions.

“...We did a good thing, right?” Jungwon asked unsurely. “...Yeah. Definitely.”

“Oh, fucking excellent. God, this night couldn’t get any worse.” Sunghoon said immediately upon noticing your presence. He huffed, pacing around the room while you stared at him, eyes watery, biting down on your lip hard. Sunghoon was filled with so much rage, he was unable to speak, and the two of you sat in silence for a brief second before you got to your feet, walking straight up to him and slapping him in the face.

“I am so fucking mad at you!” you yelled, shocking both of you.

“Me? What could I have possibly done to make you mad at me?” Sunghoon shouted incredulously, pressing his hand to his hot cheek, red blooming under his skin.

“This whole rivalry!” you said, gesturing vaguely. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” he asked irritatedly.

“About the letter!” Sunghoon paled. He had imagined this moment a hundred times over, and none of those hypotheticals went like this. He simply couldn’t have this conversation with you, it was too painful. It was in the past.

“Why should I? You’re the one that wrote it.” he said frustratedly.

“Jeez, you’re so fucking stupid. I never would have done that to you. I wouldn’t say any of that mean shit to you. I didn’t write that letter!”

He scoffed, “Oh yeah, then who did?”

“Heeseung did, Sunghoon.” He paused for a moment, not sure what to say.

You’re just jealous, and we all know it. 

She could never love someone like you, you’re a freak. 

We come from completely different worlds.

You have no idea what it’s like to be me.

Heeseungs hurtful words rang around his head, cutting into his skin like hot knives. It was impossible. You wrote the letter. Heeseung wouldn’t have done that.

“Why would he do that?” you stared at him, unbelieving at how oblivious he was.

“Because I was in love with you, obviously!”

It felt like Sunghoon’s heart was on fire. The two of you stared at each other in silence for what felt like centuries, Sunghoon’s head spinning. Suddenly, everything was much too real for him to take in. His rising body temperature, the sweet lilt of your voice, the way you looked at him through your lashes.

“What?” he questioned blankly, hardly even registering what you were saying. He felt dizzy. “You were in love with me?”

“Well, it was freshman year. I was 14. Can you just shut the fuck up? I’m still mad at you.” you said, your cheeks went aflame with the realization of what you had just said.

He grinned. “You’re so dumb.”

“You’re so fucking annoying-” Suddenly, his lips crashed into yours.

He tangled his hands in your hair, knotting his left hand in your hair. You kissed him in return as he held your waist in his right hand, his teeth biting your lower lip. You both fought for dominance, staggering through the room until your back hit the wall, and you wrapped a leg around his waist as he cursed under his breath. It was a kiss of hatred, but at the same time, relief. His lips felt as though they were made to fit yours, fitting like a puzzle piece. You parted for a breath, but he pulled you back in hungrily.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” The two of you pulled away immediately as Jake cursed loudly, Jungwon behind him with a look on his face like you had just shot him. “What is wrong with you two? We wanted you to make up, not make out!”

“Get the fuck out!” Sunghoon shouted, running after his best friend and shoving him away, slamming the door behind them with a heavy exhalation. When he turned back to you, you were trying to hold back a giggle and failing miserably.

The two of you began to laugh, and Sunghoon dropped to the floor with a sigh, you doing the same and sidling up to him.

“I can’t believe we just did that.” you said, feeling intensely embarrassed.

“ Yeah, I bet you’ll give me herpes.” Sunghoon mocked, and you turned to him with a glare, and he held his hands up. “Old habits die hard. But I really am sorry I was mean to you. I didn’t know Heeseung wrote the letter.” You scowled at the reminder.

“Heeseung…” you said, rubbing your eyes. “Jesus. What am I gonna do about him?” Sunghoon didn’t reply, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“Did you ever think I was a freak?” he asked suddenly. You frowned.

“Why would I think that?”

“I don’t know. I was always alone, always daydreaming. I wasn’t popular or anything. Didn’t you ever consider that you shouldn’t like someone like me?”

“Someone like you?” you snorted. “C’mon, don’t be full of yourself. You’re just a person. I could care less if you like to be alone, or if you daydream. So does everyone else, they’re just not brave enough to say it aloud.” Sunghoon smiled in relief, and he wanted nothing more than to press another hungry kiss to your lips. But he knew he needed to hold back. I mean, you had just gotten over your rivalry a couple minutes ago. He should probably give it some time before he starts kissing his ex-nemesis.

“You should probably go,” he said, avoiding eye contact. “I bet people are looking for you. And I think you might need to talk to your boyfriend.”

“Ex boyfriend, when I’m done with him.” you said, rolling your eyes and getting to your feet, bruising the dust off of your dress. You held out a hand to assist Sunghoon in getting up, and he took it with a smile. You walked, turning back when he didn’t follow you. “C’mon. Let’s show Heeseung that we’re not enemies anymore.”

He couldn’t hold back his grin.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

You felt like the room quaked when you walked downstairs with Sunghoon.

The music didn’t stop, but it almost seemed like everything went silent, hundreds of pairs of eyes landing on the two of you immediately, narrowed, criticizing. Sunghoon was sweating at the judgment, but you strode confidently, not paying any attention to their stares. And like magic, everyone began to turn around and mind their own business. You sent Sunghoon a wink.

“Do anything with confidence, and people won’t give a shit.” you said. Sunghoon grinned. He knew he had a lot to learn from you. The two of you slid through the bodies, navigating your way through until you spotted him from across the room.

Lee Heeseung. The man you called the love of your life just a few hours ago. You wonder if you still loved him after what happened.

“I think I’m gonna head out.” Sunghoon said, tilting his head towards the door.

“See you later, Sunghoon. Don’t be a stranger.” you said, before turning on your heel and marching away. He shook his head at your retreating figure, smiling with a warm blush on his cheeks before he made his exit.

“Heeseung!” you yelled across the room, attempting to pass by the hordes of drunks to get to your boyfriend. Him and his friends were playing a rowdy game of beer pong, and he watched you inquisitively with a ball in hand. “We need to talk.”

“About what, baby?” he asked, tossing the ball and scoring with ease, Yeonjun and Beomgyu cheering behind him and chanting his name.

“Heeseung.” you said his name coldly, and he grew serious within an instant.

“Yeonjun, take my place.” he said, slapping his friend on the back as the boy raised his brow, the group watching you with curiosity as you walked away.

You led Heeseung to the backyard, crossing your arms the minute you turned around to face him. He could tell you were serious as ever.

“What is it baby?” he said with concern, reaching for your arm, but you pulled away from him quickly. He only grew more worried.

“Heeseung, do you have anything to tell me?” you asked vaguely, and every bad thing he had done in his entire life ran through his head in an instant.

“No?” he said pathetically. “Y/n, will you just tell me what you want?”

“Why did you write Sunghoon that letter?” Heeseung paled. He didn’t think you would find out. Not this soon. “You said such hurtful things to him, why? And addressed from me?” You said, voice wobbling.

“Baby, let me explain-”

“You’re the reason Sunghoon hated me so much. I put up with his belittling for years because I thought I deserved it somehow. Just to find out it was you all along? What kind of fucked up person would do that?”

“How else was I supposed to get him away from you?”

“That’s not your decision to make, Heeseung.” you said coldly.

“Look, baby, that was all in the past. I’m really sorry, can’t we just look past it?”

“No, Heeseung, because you hurt an innocent person really badly. And that is always unforgivable.” you sighed, pinching the space between your brows.

“He doesn’t matter, y/n. I’m your boyfriend, not him!”

“Well, not anymore.” Both of you froze. Through the glass walls, the entirety of the party stared at the two of you, Decelis’ golden couple. Now destroyed.

“You’re breaking up with me,” Heeseung said slowly, in disbelief. “Over Park Sunghoon?” You stared at him for a moment, before steeling yourself.

“Yes. Yes I am.” And then you walked off, pushing past the shocked crowds with tears in your eyes, gunning it for the door and disappearing into the night.

Something was telling you to run after him.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

epilogue.

“She’s still at it?” Jake asked in disbelief. Just a moment previous, you had strode straight up to Sunghoon from your spot at the blackboard with the utmost confidence and placed a lollipop onto his lap. You didn’t even look into his eyes, just turning on your heel and returning to your duties.

He was beginning to get envious looks from his fellow classmates, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

“S’pose so.” Sunghoon said, unwrapping the cellophane and popping the treat into his mouth with a satisfying suction sound. “Mm. At least she’s giving me good flavors these days.”

“It’s been three years. You’d think she’d stop by now.” Jake shook his head, tossing his notebooks and laptop into his backpack as the bell rang, dismissing class.

“She’ll never stop. She loves me.” Sunghoon grinned proudly, the stick of his lollipop protruding from the corner of his upturned mouth.

“Why doesn’t she ever bring me lollipops?” Sunghoon frowned, slapping Jake in the back with his notebook before shoving it into his duffel. “Ow! What?”

“She’s my girlfriend. She’s not allowed to give lollipops to anyone but me.” Sunghoon said, like it was obvious, walking to the front of the class with Jake in tow just behind him. “Besides, you don’t even like lollipops anyway.”

“It’s the thought that counts.”

Even after a year of dating, you and Sunghoon were still up to your classic shenanigans. It was a wonder that the two of you were still together, considering how often you bickered. You were lucky that you loved each other more than enough to make up for the arguments.

“Hey, baby.” he said, striding up to your place at the front of the class and pressing a sloppy kiss onto your cheek. You wiped your cheek off with a playful scowl, before plucking the lollipop from Sunghoon’s mouth and putting it between your lips.

“Hey, Hoonie. Hey, Jake.” You reached for your boyfriend’s hand as the three of you walked out of class together. “How was practice, you two?”

“Mm, I’m tired.” Sunghoon said, pecking you as Jake rolled his eyes at your overt pda. “Jake’s been keeping me busy with training.”

“If you weren’t so shit, I wouldn’t have to train you all the time.” Jake ruffled the younger boy’s hair as he looked up at him with a scowl. After your debacle with Heeseung, Jake quit the rugby team, deciding he favored soccer. It turned out to be a good decision, as he was quite good at it, and you decided it must have been pure fate that gave him a scholarship to the same college you and Sunghoon were attending.

“Hey, I joined soccer way before you did. Have some respect for your seniors.” Sunghoon said, evading Jake’s hands as he reached to slap the younger boy, the two tussling as you watched with a smile, sucking on your lollipop. “Jesus, don’t you ever get tired of those two?” a weary voice said, sidling up to you as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. You turned to face Jungwon, his bangs matted to his forehead and his button up shirt nearly halfway undone.

“You’ve been sleeping during class?” you asked, humor in your tone as your best friend turned to you with a raised brow.

“How could you tell?” You didn’t answer. Sunghoon ran to you, a big grin on his face as he dragged Jake behind him in a headlock.

“Hey, Jungwon.” he said, reaching for a handshake that Jungwon didn’t reciprocate. He then reached for the stick dangling from your lips, removing it, kissing you softly, and then putting the sucker back in his own mouth.

“You guys are disgusting.” Jake said, voice muffled from under Sunghoon’s bicep.

“Cherry, again?” Jungwon said, watching the bright red sphere as it protruded slightly from Sunghoon’s mouth. “I should’ve known you were up to something when you ordered them in bulk.”

“What can I say? A tradition’s a tradition.” you grinned, taking Sunghoon’s hand as the four of you walked in a line. “A lollipop a day keeps Park Sunghoon away.” He looked at you with a snort, unable to hold back a smile.

“Did you just come up with that?” he asked, amused.

“I did.” you hummed, and he pressed a kiss to your nose, Jungwon and Jake groaning loudly in unison.

“We get it, you’re in love.”

“Enough already, it’s gross.” they whined, and the two of you laughed together, swinging your hands back and forth like a little swing between your sides.

Who knew you and your enemy would fall in love? You certainly couldn’t have predicted it. Turns out that college life had a lot of unexpected surprises in store. But while everything kept changing, there was one thing that always stayed the same.

Sunghoon’s heart always skipped a beat when you gave him a lollipop.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[headspace-hotel]

i promised myself "before I go back to school in the fall, something HAS to get better. SIGNIFICANTLY BETTER."

and i made the appointments, had the conversations, I spent hours wringing my brain out googling discussing with friends and family, thinking of SOMETHING, ANYTHING i could approach disability services about now that my previous suggestions had been shot down, and i went there with a list and i was like "hey is there ANY of this stuff you can do to help me" and basically? No

i asked "maybe i could have few extra excused absences so I can rest when i'm overloaded" but the lady was like Well we couldn't do that because you would miss the material in class

I asked "maybe i could have limited group projects so i don't have to be working on something with 4 other people every single day because social interaction is really tiring" she was like Well we can't do it if it would change the course substantially but we can ask that professors tell you if there's going to be lots of group projects so you can drop the class

I asked "maybe i can do in class writing assignments in a separate room so it will be less stressful" she was like well what if we couldn't guarantee that another room would be available where some one could monitor you

This is after the possibility of a partial course load was shot down (i could request it because of 'extenuating circumstances' but there's no guarantee it would be approved, and anyway i don't even know if it would fucking help) and several other things

Going back to school is just weighing on me crushing me. The past two semesters I have been so unrelentingly exhausted, miserable and alone. I hated my classes SO much and spent so much time crying.

All my classes are stupid busy work , just like worksheets that are like "do all these tiny little steps" that micromanage you painfully as if you can't be trusted to have your own independent thoughts" while the professor sits on their phone.

The grades are made up of a thousand tiny bullshit assignments that you have to remember at the right time, if you know the material and even care about learning it, it doesn't even matter.

I took a PLANT science class last semester that I honest to god hated so much it took all the strength in my body to even go to class. I LOATHED it and I got a C in it even though it was highschool level crap and the assignments were so restrictive that they basically punished you for being passionate about anything, I would try to be creative or dig more deeply on things and my classmates (it was always a mother fucking group project because the professor didn't want to fucking lecture, just give us something to kill time like we were fucking preschoolers) hated it because creativity or thinking outside the box would always make the assignment harder for everyone and I would fuck up the grade and it made me feel so ashamed

Same class where the professor said "you can tell this is a peer reviewed journal article because it's written in two columns along the page" like what. What. Huh. What.

There is so little flexibility too like the requirements are so specifically made to "mold" me a certain way. No one sees anything I have already learned or is interested in my potential and ability and passion and keen interest that i HAVE IN ABUNDANCE by the way, and the classes are so boring and passionless

I approached a lady in the arts department about an independent study involving natural plant fibers but she was like "no sorry i only work with seniors and you would have to take these 2 of my other classes"

There is so much more that's stupid and dysfunctional about this college that is too specific to discuss with privacy online, but let it suffice to say that it's a school that wants the reputation of being really challenging and rigorous soooooo bad but it actually just has 1000 inflexible requirements that eliminate everyone's free time and assigns metric tons of tedious busy work, because being "hard" means our academics are "rigorous" right? but the quality of the academics is not good, the classes are not engaging or encouraging you to think more deeply they are just painful.

And no one, fucking no one in these classes is engaging with the work with any energy or passion or enthusiasm, the professors can't get a discussion going, everyone is just staring like a bunch of zombies because their classes r like the equivalent of two full time jobs so of course no one can Engage Deeply with them they have no fucking energy

the food is like eating out of the garbage. they reheat the same pieces of pizza over and over until they're like dried out and leathery like something from a pharaohs tomb. they have bagels kept in a box and they're so stale you can't even bite into them. I got sour, rotten milk from the milk machine so many times my stomach eventually couldn't take drinking milk from there at all.

i hate, hate, hate, HATE that place so much i start crying every time I try to make plans for fall because there is so little fucking joy in my life when i'm there it's like being trapped underground.

[jgracie]

WHO’S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME?

masterlist | rules

♡ dedicated to giselle @pinkdiorluvr <3 our leo/ttpd/aphrodite parallels resulted in this epic crossover... love u sm !

in which leo was tame and gentle ‘til the circus life made him mean (alternatively, the one where you teach a son of aphrodite how to love again)

pairing son of aphrodite!leo valdez x roman!reader

warnings self-loathing (happy ending tho dw), ooc / dark!leo? idk tbh but this is a deep dive into his mind lowk 😭 also this is kinda long sorry in advance LMAO

on the radio . . . who’s afraid of little old me? (taylor swift), the only exception (paramore)

an aphrodite cabin leo my beloved… read the comments under this for a bit of context :) also in this they know the ghost of the battery is venus cz it fits w the story ok

If you looked up the word ‘tragedy’ in the dictionary, Leo was convinced you’d find his whole life there. It’d take up half the book, listing every event that’s ever happened in his life from the moment his mother died in that fire, her body so charred there was nothing to bury, until present time

It would talk about how after that, social services arrived, and how his aunt had refused to take him in, calling him a diablo and shouting at the social workers to take him themselves. It would talk about how none of his other relatives wanted him. It would talk about all the foster homes he’d run from, both the okay and the ugly (because they were never good. They didn’t want him either) opting to sleep under the Houston bridge for months instead. It would talk about how Leo was completely and utterly unloveable

Years of his life being this endless cycle of misery resulted in Leo toughening up. He was no longer the sweet boy who’d sit on his mother’s lap as she worked with pieces of metal, who’d run to get her a hammer or a screwdriver before she even asked for it, his heart so full of love for her he was close to exploding. No, this was a new Leo. This Leo learnt to deal with the bullies and the streets and everything else life decided to throw at him, his skin calloused and his heart cold. Sure, he was still elvish and scrawny, but he wasn’t afraid. That alone was enough

Eventually, he befriended Piper. She was nice. For once, he was around someone who didn’t seem to mind his company. But no matter how much Piper liked him, she still liked Jason more. Leo wasn’t an idiot, he knew from the moment Piper laid eyes on the perfect blond that this was her dream guy. And he was happy for her, she was his friend after all! However, he couldn’t help but resent her feelings towards him. He found himself left out again - unloveable Leonidas Valdez, that’s who he’d always be, now that his mom was gone

Then, he discovered a whole new world of Gods and monsters and for a moment in time, Leo thought everything might finally begin to click. He never fit in with the other kids in his foster homes because he wasn’t like them, he was a demigod, of course he couldn’t fit in. For the first time since his mother’s passing, Leo became an optimist. Maybe things would turn around? He’d get to meet his second parent and they’d explain it all, possibly even reward him for his perseverance? Leo toyed around with the idea, replaying the fantasy in his head. In the end, to him, just getting a glimpse of them would be enough

He got claimed as soon as he arrived. Usually, that would be considered incredibly lucky, and Leo really tried thinking of it in that way. Annabeth had told him some campers wait years for that symbol to float over their heads, to finally be able to move out of the crowded Hermes cabin and have people they can genuinely call siblings, a place they can genuinely call home

Leo would’ve been happy if his Godly parent wasn’t her. Aphrodite. What a sick joke. How could the Goddess of love be his mother? No one loved Leo, even Piper and Jason saw him as a nuisance at times. They tried to disguise it, but Leo knew. Years of being bullied had given him excellent training in reading the emotions of others. He knew that whenever the three of them were together, they wished they could be alone. He’d almost refused to sleep in cabin 10, but his new siblings grabbed him by the arms and dragged him over, excited to meet a fellow child of their mother’s

Luckily, it didn’t take Leo very long to get a quest. He, along with Piper and Jason, left Camp Half-Blood to go find and save Hera from the cage she was trapped in. Although the quest was hard and there were many times he’d come close to death, Leo was happier away from the cabin that reminded him of everything he should be and was not. The trio came back to camp just in time and immediately started planning their journey to Jason’s home, Camp Jupiter

The days Leo was building the Argo II were some of his happiest. He had an excuse to not sleep in his cabin (the Hephaestus cabin had kindly offered him bunker 9) and he was around the one thing he truly did love - machinery. The smell of oil and clang of metal reminded him of his mother, the one person who’d truly ever loved him. Sure, Leo did occasionally find himself yearning for human interaction, but every time he felt that ache in his chest, his fingertips longing to touch another, he’d push it down and continue his work. Just because he was a son of Aphrodite, doesn’t mean he deserved love. If he did deserve love, surely, he would’ve gotten it a long time ago

Soon enough, the ship was finished and Leo, Jason, Piper and Annabeth set sail for Camp Jupiter. On the boat, he felt less pressure to fit into the constraints of the stereotypical role of a child of Aphrodite, consequently becoming more like one. Away from land, he could shed the Leo Valdez who was tough and hard as stone, becoming as fluid as the sea instead. He wasn’t anywhere near as social as the others, but this time, he didn’t lock himself up in his room. He taught Annabeth about the mechanisms of the ship and teased Piper and Jason whenever he caught them kissing

From above, Aphrodite watched and hoped the Fates were feeling kindly towards her baby boy. It broke her heart watching him lose faith in love, but she couldn’t do anything about it - not with Zeus keeping a close eye on her

“Okay, I’ll show you the ship. Come with me,” Leo told Octavian - Camp Jupiter’s joke of an Oracle. The boy annoyed him, reminding Leo too much of some of the manipulative bullies he had to learn to fight back, but he knew giving him a tour of the Argo II was essential for gaining the Romans’ trust. Surprisingly, it was going well. Octavian was quiet as he examined it all, only making a few snide remarks about the ‘obviously Greek methods’ Leo had used

Then it happened. Leo felt his mind go blank and his limbs move against his will, heading for the ballistae. He tried to stop himself, but he couldn’t. He fired on Camp Jupiter

Other than Jason, who had gotten hit by a brick and was currently passed out, everyone was fine. What wasn’t fine was the fact that the Romans were no longer on their side. The others gave him accusatory glances, even though he’d insisted didn’t mean to hurt anyone. Only Piper seemed to be on his side, but even she was a little hesitant, a little confused

You were the anomaly. Leo didn’t notice you - quiet and observant, wanting to see how this would play out - until you spoke up to defend him. You, a Roman who’d just had the only home she’s ever known destroyed, who’d just been labelled an outcast by all her friends and family thanks to him, had defended Leo

“Guys, I don’t think he meant any harm,” you said, immediately silencing the other six members of the Great Prophecy. Leo’s mouth was agape, unable to say anything as you continued, “why would he fire on Camp Jupiter on purpose?” You asked, “isn’t he a part of this eight, one of us?” Then, turning to Annabeth, you said, “isn’t he your friend? Why aren’t you defending him?” She blushed and looked down at her feet, unsure of what to say

You smiled, happy that another problem had been solved, “let’s not ruin this quest before it even starts, okay? We can’t save the world from Gaia if we don’t act as a team.”

For the first time since his mother’s death, Leo felt loved. However, he knew all too well how good things never last

Leo distanced himself from you, as well as everyone else on the ship. After that day, he’d decided to coop himself up in his room and work on upgrading the ship instead, only coming out when absolutely necessary. Meanwhile, you eagerly got to know everyone else who was part of the prophecy, intrigued about the differences between Greek and Roman demigods. The one person who you desperately wanted to know, though, was Leo

No matter how hard you tried, he always seemed to escape your clutches. You’d been worried for him ever since that first day on the ship, and after finding out he built it, you were dying to know more

“Venus only appeared when Reyna was alone, so I don’t think any men can come along,” Jason said. Yet again, you were splitting up for another quest. This time, it was seeking the ghost of the Battery, who you’d deduced was Venus, the goddess of love. Suddenly, you had an idea

“Shouldn’t Leo come along? He’s her son, isn’t he? She’d show up for him,” you said, giving the boy a kind glance, which he averted. He really didn’t want to meet his mom. She didn’t care for him, so neither did he for her. If she cared, she wouldn’t have left him to fend for himself all those years. She was no better than his Aunt Rosa

Unfortunately, everyone on the ship agreed with you. Venus would probably be more helpful if her son was there. It was settled, you and Leo would go find the ghost of the Battery

The walk was awkward. This was the first time the two of you had been together since the first day on the ship. You made small talk, asking him about the ship and Camp Half-Blood. He thanked you for that day, and when you’d given him a toothy grin, your eyes sparkling, Leo felt as if Cupid had shot an arrow right through his heart. He couldn’t breathe. He’d never been more overwhelmed with love

“Lady Venus?” You said, your voice tentative as you looked around, suddenly doubting your plan. Immediately, she appeared in front of you. She was beautiful, with curly brown locks and fiery brown eyes. Her smile was kind, making you feel a warmth spread throughout your body. Then she noticed Leo. Instantly, her fiery eyes became sad, and… were those tears?

She floated past you and towards Leo, cupping his face in her hands. He flinched, about to pull away before remembering she’s a Goddess and could easily smite him if she were in a bad mood. His eyebrows remained furrowed, the crease in his forehead only deepening when she said, “my boy, my Leo. You’ve grown so beautifully.”

You could tell Leo’s relationship with his mother was strained, despite never meeting her. He scoffed, gaining the courage to remove her soft hands from his rigid face

“I am not your Leo. I am Esperanza Valdez’s Leo. She’s dead, in case you can’t recall. She died and you did nothing to stop it, nothing to ease the pain. I will never be your Leo. I’m only here for the sake of the quest, so please just tell us what we need to do and we’ll be on our way,” with every word, you could tell Venus’ heart shattered into several tiny pieces. Never in a million years did you think you’d see a Goddess look so heartbroken

She tried to reach out for him again, but this time, Leo didn’t let her, inching closer to you instead. Sighing, Venus opted to use her words, “look, I’m really sorry. You have no idea how bad I feel. I wanted to help you, really, but Zeus–”

“It’s always Zeus with you Gods, isn’t it? No, you don’t get to tell me you feel bad. You wouldn’t have survived an hour in my childhood. Do you know how horrible it felt, being wanted by no one? Do you have any idea how much it hurt finding out your own mother, the Goddess of love, didn’t do a single thing to help, choosing to leave you feeling unlovable instead? If you really loved me, you wouldn’t have given up just because of Zeus.”

Venus was quiet after that. You looked up at the sky, afraid Jupiter would strike you with his lightning bolt at this very moment, but he didn’t. With tears in her eyes, she said what was necessary and as soon as she was done, Leo got up and began walking away. You, however, stayed. You couldn’t help but feel a little bad for the Goddess, even though Leo was in the right

“He likes you,” she said, breaking the silence, “but he thinks he’s incapable of love, and it’s all my fault, I know, but I beg of you, please save my son before it's too late.” Her hand was tightly gripping yours, and you gave her a sad smile before going to catch up with Leo

You found him crying behind a bush. He had his face in his hands and sat with his knees touching his chest as horrible, gut-wrenching sobs left his open lips, desperate for some air. Calmly, you sat next to Leo. You didn’t do anything - no stupid words, no trying to fix his issues, you knew that wasn’t what he needed. Leo just needed some love. So you wrapped an arm around him and let him let it out on your shoulder

With the grass leaving indents on your skin and the light breeze cooling your bodies, Leo opened up. He didn’t say everything, but you got the gist of it all. You also got that seeing Venus face-to-face and crying afterwards had taken a load off of his back. With every word he said, Leo’s face seemed to brighten, his curls gaining shape and his eyes becoming a warmer shade of mahogany. The realisation hit you like a truck: he looked just like his mother

As the days passed, you paired with Leo for quests more often. He was more comfortable around you than any of the other crew members, which didn’t go unnoticed by them. They were glad Leo had found someone he could let loose with. Your journey across the Mediterranean continued and your friendship blossomed and bloomed, every late night conversation proving to Leo that maybe love was something he could achieve in this lifetime after all

Despite this, he kept his distance. A part of him was scared you stayed out of pity. As a son of Aphrodite, he knew that wasn’t true - he could read people like a book, after all. But he would never forget how his life is an endless loop. Just as he’d think he was finally getting a break, the universe would greet him with the worst event he’s ever experienced. Soon enough, something awful would happen. Something that’d push you away. You should be afraid of him, an unstable boy with extreme detachment issues and a history of bad relationships. What was there to love?

Everything. To you, there was everything to love about Leo. From the way he always had a piece of scrap metal to fiddle with in case he got nervous, to the way his nose would scrunch up when he’d laugh. Leo Valdez had ripped your heart out of your body and decided to keep it, and you were okay with that

Your confession had happened after Percy and Annabeth fell into Tartarus. Everyone was absolutely gutted, of course, but no one more than Leo. He blamed himself for their descent into the deep pits of hell, and you began to see him slowly go back to the Leo he once was, the Leo he was used to being. The difference was that this time, you were there

You forced him to give you and the others some of the watch shifts he’d assigned to himself. You made sure he ate and drank water and took care of himself. You were there to pick the pieces back up again

One night, it was just you and him

“Why do you do this? Am I not a burden to you?” Leo had asked, just as you were about to leave his room. After finding him half asleep at the wheel, you dragged him to bed, tucking him in yourself and making him swear not to leave until the morning

You turned, your eyes holding a mix of fondness and hurt. Not for yourself, but for the boy who has never looked into the mirror and seen a person worthy of loving. Your voice as clear as the sky above, you said, “because I love you. You could never be a burden to me, because I want to do this.”

“Why? Why do you love me?”

Making your way over to his bed, you sat on the edge, cupping his face, just like his mother did during your first adventure together. This time, he didn’t flinch. In fact, he seemed to melt under your touch. You felt anguish in your heart at this - no matter how much Leo insisted he should be alone, he still craved another

“Because you’re you. You’re sweet and you’re loyal and most of all, you’re so deserving of love. That’s more than enough reason for me.”

As Artemis rode her moon chariot across the starry sky, you shared a tender kiss. You saw Leo for everything he was - a black dog, a broken boy, the definition of the word ‘tragedy’, and chose to love him anyway

You weren’t afraid

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse part 3.1

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve.

On tumblr: Part one Part two or search #thefreakinthepenthouse

On AO3

3.1 Cracks in the plasterwork

Eddie was vegging out front of the TV, watching a rerun of Star Trek, when a knock sounded. Shit, shit, SHIT! He was literally naked and he’d not ordered anything on room service.

Not till later, at any rate. Eddie glanced at the clock. Only four pm.

He grabbed a bathrobe. Despite Steve’s brutal early wakeup call, Eddie had gotten more energy than in an age. Life really did feel less of a gloom-fest today.

Even if his self-loathing still throbbed like a bitch.

A voice sounded from the corridor. “Uh, Mister M… I mean, Eddie? You there?”

It was Steve! Already? Eddie threw both the doors wide. “Greetings and salutations. You’re mega-early.”

“Yeah. Sorry. Can’t stay. The main elevator guy’s off sick. I’m stuck there all day.”

Eddie was seriously cracking up. In his bellboy hat with its little strap under his chin, Steve was ridiculous levels of adorable. And fuckable. Which was all kinds of wrong.

“No sweat, Stevie.” He reined in his giggles. “I’m up for a quickie in your elevator, if that’s all that’s on offer.”

It was a joke. Steve sighed. He looked exhausted, kinda shadowy around the eyes. “I finish at eight. I’ll be here as soon as I can. Listen, I’m really sorry. I think I dropped something here last night. Can I, erm… have a peep, see if I can find it?”

“Sure.” Eddie stepped aside.

Steve rushed first into the bedroom, throwing himself flat to look under the bed. “The chambermaid’s been and gone,” said Eddie. He already felt like a total a-hole for laughing at Steve, who seemed genuinely stressed out. “Don’t think she picked anything up that wasn’t my usual trash. What did you lose?”

“Oh, nothing.” Steve hurried back across the lounge area and into the restroom. “Well, actually, it’s kind of important. It belongs to a friend… Oh, thank God.”

Eddie arrived at the restroom door in time to receive an epic view of Steve’s butt in his deadly-tight uniform pants. He was crawling to retrieve something from under the spacious clawfoot washtub. “Christ, I was going outta my mind! I keep this safe for my friend, Robin—she’s a junior sous chef, and, uh, yeah, she’d totally lose her head if it wasn’t attached. Anyway, she put it in my bag without telling me yesterday, apparently. What a flake!”

Steve shoved the cause of his anguish—which turned out to be one of those blue asthma inhalers that Eddie had seen kids use at grade school—into his back pocket. His breakneck monologue seemed a bit odd, but he was all smiles now, which made Eddie relax again too. Especially as a glint of that irresistible come-hither returned to Steve’s big brown eyes.

He’s pretending, Eddie reminded himself. He’s good. This guy’s reeeeeally good at this. Unfortunately for Eddie, Steve already backed toward the doors.

“Hey, I heard rumors there’s a plunge pool in the other restroom,” said Steve. “That true?”

“Fuck, yeah,” said Eddie. “Big enough to swim in. How about we take a dip later?” Steve responded with an Oscar-winning grin and flutter of his lashes. “Oh, wait a sec.” Eddie dived to retrieve his wallet from beside a vase of fake orchids. “Here’s your one-fifty. Plus, two hundred bucks in advance for tonight.”

“Wow. Thank you.” Steve’s voice trembled strangely as he took the cash, while Eddie found himself beaming like an idiot. Steve had knocked his hat askew crawling under the bath, and now Eddie reached out and straightened it. Steve flushed slightly, suddenly unable to meet Eddie’s eye: 

“Look, you treated me real nice yesterday, Eddie. Sorry if I come across grouchy. Or pushy. I know I can be like that. They’re brutal traits, in my line of work.”

“Not a problem,” said Eddie, not quite believing how badly he didn’t want Steve to leave. 

Steve reached the doors, lightly touched the handle and glanced back. “I mean, I’m sure I can do any weird kinks for somebody as nice as you.”

“Did I tell you I had a weird kink for fucking guys in bellboy outfits?” It wasn’t true at all, but Eddie couldn’t help it.

“Yeah, right. That’s a surefire way to experience my weird kink for punching annoying clients in the face.”

Ooookay. For some reason, Eddie grinned about that for the next hour.

The silence that followed Steve’s departure was still too much for Eddie to handle. For the first time in weeks, he put on a CD—Guns n’ Roses’ ‘You could be mine’ simmering on low volume. He picked up the phone and called Dustin.

“I’m gonna go through your notes this afternoon,” Eddie told him. “Will try and get some ideas going, but no promises. Oh, and don’t you dare call this evening. I got a date.”

Eddie’s whispering demons about the half-lie were drowned out by Dustin’s screams: “Aaaaaaaagh! That’s awesome, Eddie. Hey, how about you and your date double up with Suzie and me. There’s this cool new pizza joint on Rodeo Drive—”

“No way in hell,” said Eddie. He didn’t hang up on Dustin this time. At least, not until he’d gotten a promise from his bud to send a fresh batch of decent weed over.

…

Steve reached Eddie’s suite, slightly out of breath, at seven minutes past eight. He still wore his uniform, minus the hat. He really couldn’t risk another night rushing around dressed like a hooker.

Kline had already swiped fifty dollars off him—a ‘cancellation fee’ that he’d demanded Steve charge Eddie. If the slimy son-of-a-bitch discovered Eddie hadn’t chickened out and that Steve had taken the ‘job’ himself, Steve would be out in the gutter.

On the other hand, thanks to Eddie, Steve had been able to put in an order for his prevention meds. That would take the pressure off his rescue inhaler. He already craved that cool, fresh feeling in his lungs, as those expensive pills did their thing, opening up his airways. He’d put the rest aside to pay off a little more of last winter’s hospital debt. 

Shame about lying to Eddie earlier, but hey, who’d wanna hire an asthmatic call-boy? And last night had gone fine, so why worry now?

Eddie opened the door with a megawatt grin. Damn, Eddie was stupid levels of adorable when he smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey there.”

Fortunately, Eddie no longer wore that hideous Hugh Hefner bathrobe. Instead, he wore a pair of black silk boxers and nothing else. He slouched against the door frame, and indicated with his head that Steve should enter. Steve snapped his mouth shut before he drooled.

“The plunge pool is getting hot and steamy,” said Eddie.

“Great.” Steve stepped into the room, tugging apart his collar, stripping his shirt off. “Sorry about the uniform, I uh—”

“Gotta confess,” said Eddie, “I miss the eye-liner… Woah!”  

Steve had peeled down his pants to reveal a teeny pair of denim hotpants. He kicked his clothes across the room, rolled his shoulders back and shimmied his hips… in sync to a very faint beat.

“You’re red-hot, Baby.” Eddie moved close, slid his hands to clasp Steve’s butt, where the super-tiny shorts cut off half-way up Steve’s butt cheeks. They also cut in like cheese wire, particularly now Steve started to grind the bulge around the front of them into Eddie.

“You broke your no-music rule,” he murmured into Eddie’s ear, arms looping up around Eddie’s neck as they swayed to the unfamiliar rock song.

“My penthouse," whispered Eddie. "My rules.”

...

Part 3.2

(Likes reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕)

On tumblr: Part one Part two or search #thefreakinthepenthouse

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

[youryurigoddess]

The Small Back Room — Hour of Glory (1949)

Good Omens 2 begins with the visit to The Small Back Room not because it was meant to serve as an exposition scene for Maggie and her record shop. It’s a substantial foreshadowing of the main plot and the relationship changes between Aziraphale and Crowley.

As all the other classics referenced throughout the show, this 1949 Powell and Pressburger production is easily available online — whenever you have 100 minutes to spare, I highly encourage you to watch it.

Our story begins with the arrival of Stuart, a British military captain, who makes his way through a labyrinth of offices towards a small building — the research section led by an eccentric, queer-coded, bow tie wearing professor Mair — to ask for help with a secret Nazi weapon.

That’s when the professor calls our hero, Sammy Rice — an engineer and bomb disposal expert in the service of Her Majesty’s government and, not accidentally, the most brooding, wounded man in Powell and Pressburger’s impressive canon of dysfunctional and alienated characters.

Due to a prosthetic foot keeping him from active service and confining to work in the titular back room instead, Rice is dramatically slipping into alcoholism. Haunted by self-loathing and disappointment with the internal politics, he can’t see the point of his research anymore.

Sammy is also conducting a clandestine affair with the secretary of his research unit, Susan. They live in the same building and meet regularly, but can’t openly enjoy their company or even dance due to his injury, which makes him even more bitter and pathologically determined to wear her angelic patience down.

Susan puts up with it until the minister is forced to resign. She knows that if non-scientists take over, their section will become useless, Rice even more difficult, and the war possibly lost. She urges him to take action and when he dramatically refuses to make a difference, she leaves him.

Seemingly at his lowest now, Rice becomes a sudden chance to redeem himself. Captain Stuart calls him about two unexploded booby traps found in Wales, but left to himself, he dies during a heroic attempt to dismantle one of the thermos-like devices before our engineer arrives at the scene.

In a nerve-jangling finale, Stuart’s notes help Rice dismantle the second device. He becomes a hero, gets an officer commission as head of the new scientific unit, and discovers that Susan not only came back in the meantime, but repaired everything he drunkenly destroyed in the apartment after their breakup.

The parallels seem straightforward enough for me to add that in this context the role of Maggie through most of S2 may particularly reflect Crowley’s stagnancy in both work and love life. And if you’re unsure why the demon identifies with the heroic roles and characters, you might want to read this post on the subject.

Now, The Small Back Room was distributed in the US under another title — Hour of Glory. Which happens to be a specific Bible term referring to Christ’s “hour”, the period supposed to consummate all of his work on Earth and reveal God’s ultimate plan of salvation: the Son’s death.

John 12:20-36 Jesus replied, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My Father will honor the one who serves me. Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and will glorify it again.” The crowd that was there and heard it said it had thundered; others said an angel had spoken to him. Jesus said, “This voice was for your benefit, not mine. Now is the time for judgment on this world; now the prince of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.”

Christ’s hour began in the garden — this time the garden of Gethsemane — as he prayed passionately for the cup to be passed from him, similarly to Aziraphale declining Metatron’s offers on screen, both regarding the hot drink and his reinstatement as part of the Heavenly Host:

Luke 22:42 “Father, if you are willing, please take this cup of suffering away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.”

All throughout the Old Testament, we see God’s wrath being described as a cup poured out on sin and those guilty of it. By accepting it, Jesus took the toll of all the sins — from Eden up until the last one to be committed right before his Second Coming — on himself, for the sake of his beloved humanity.

The passion of Christ continued as Judas betrayed him with a kiss, his disciples abandoned him, and the high priest accused him of crimes he was not guilty of. Even Pilate, the prefect of Rome, pretended to uphold the law; and remember we already expect a S3 trial based on another Archers movie.

All in all, it’s an hour of great injustice and pain, but also glory of God. We’re led to believe that the Ineffable Plan will similarly triumph over the great one (or whatever Metatron tries to implement at the moment), as it did in S1. And its ending will be a good one, back in a garden.

[thecameronchronicles]

Savior

TW: abusive relationship. Cheating. Mentions of death/violence/homicide/blood. Language. Smut. 

SUMMARY: Being neighbors with Trevor came with a specific benefit as he always kept a close eye on you...

WORD COUNT: 3500

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

Savior

Trevor's POV

How in the fuck did I convince myself to come to this? Her boyfriend's party. But one look at her in a dress he didn't deserve to see let alone peel off reminded me why. Not only for the deafening need to know just how my hands felt beneath the fabric, but also for the way I wanted each and every one of her smiles to be because of me. And for anyone responsible for her tears, may God have mercy on them...

"Trevor!" She welcomed me with an embrace that allowed every inch of her body to be felt in the thin fabric that separated. God, this woman could wear only sweats and a messy bun as she did the first day I saw her and I was still needing to adjust the swell in my seam. 

"Thank you so much for coming!" She gripped tightly into my forearms. For a moment, it seemed as if I had been her reason for gravity. As if my presence soothed her somehow. Certainly an assumption as I was rarely seen as anything more than an inconvenience. And yet ever since she moved in six months ago, she always left me feeling this way. 

Important. Worthy. So fucking needed that it was enough to make you dizzy. And if this devotion wasn't enough, the way she made it a point to make me comfortable had been that tipping point that made her different. That made any girl comparable to her and yet none would hold a candle. All because one of those simple looks set me on fire that paled to even the most skilled of women I attempted to use to forget her. 

That was my plague. She was unforgettable. And I was the poor son of a bitch in love with someone else's girlfriend...

"Yeah, man, thanks for coming." It took everything I had not to curl a lip or even my hands to a fist. This possessive and arrogant asshole has a goddess at his fingers and yet his eyes scanned every feminine soul in attendance as if she was nothing. And she noticed. 

The light that fought to remain behind her eyes remained at war against his presence. Never a kind word that didn't leave her embarrassed in the end. Details of their sex life enough to speak well of her as everything else was an apparent service that made him a victim or a martyr. And why she allowed it continued to astound me. Surely she knew she deserved better. Literally anyone. Wishful thinking made me hope it could one day have been me. 

"Keep an eye on her would you? Gotta go do some rounds-" He abandoned her when he should have wished to show her off. It was enough to be thankful of his absence but regretful it brought her such pain. 

"Can I show you something?" I asked as she illuminated to the offer. 

The second we made our way outside to the balcony, she seemed to take a clear reprieve. I loved that it was possible in my presence. But I loathed knowing she would have to return to him eventually. But not now. And that's what mattered. It wasn't now. 

"I always loved the stars...he always complains it's too cold to see them..." She placed her fingers on the edge of the railing and trusted it to lean forward. My eyes drifted down her curves and to her neck. A chosen hairstyle leaving her neck accessible to view. Soft skin accented by a beauty mark in perfect placement. A true work of art I was able to adore without needing to share. 

Yet I remained as a friend as it's what she always needed. Everytime she was on the curb outside the complex in tears. Anytime she was left without a car and asked me for a ride. Each time keeping myself in check while burning for her. Just one signal that told me she wanted this and I would gladly risk his wrath for even a moment of that attention. A moment of bliss for a lifetime of hell. 

"You deserve to see them..." She only shrugged. 

"I saw this hotel...I can't remember where it is, but there are these igloos with glass ceilings you can spend the night in...and you can just stare at the stars all night. I'd sleep outside of I could..." The careless way she spoke with such raw honesty of her dreams made me want to make them real for her. No matter how stupid or impossible. But this one made me envision her wrapped in my arms, sheets draped over us just enough to be warm-

"Trevor?" 

"Yeah?"

"It means a lot that you came. You're the only one who I actually like being around here...so thank you..." She confessed, my hand moving closer to hers as my pinky judged hers just enough to gain her attention. 

"I wish it was only us..." This was the sign I needed. This was the step forward she needed to take so I knew. And I didn't care about the consequences. 

I used a hold on her wrist to pull her towards me. A gentle collision anything but humorous as I use the same ledge she trusted to set her against. Instantly, her hand came to a rest at my cheek in the reminder of how delicate she was. And yet, her tongue was the one to tease mine. 

"Trevor..." She breathed softly, a hand to my chest as she fisted to fabric. 

"I can take care of you..."

"It isn't that simple..." She confessed as I nodded. 

"Then let me help you not think..." I directed her hips harder into me, making my intentions clear before softening them. My pulse at war with her own, my cock desperate for even a small trace of her fingers, and my lips needing more. Needing all of her. 

She tried to speak, but her body betrayed her as mine orchestrated us both. My fingers held a mind of their own, remaining cautious to not frighten her with how badly I desired her, but also speaking where words couldn't describe. Every kiss telling her I wanted her. Every touch or grasp informing her I'd protect her. But she remained distant from me. 

"I want to make you feel good...I swear to God I won't stop until you do. I want to make you-" She nodded, her fingers toying with my belt as my thumbs teased the low rest of her skirt. 

He was so fucking lucky and took her for granted. She would have been unable to walk if she wore that skirt for me. But then again, I wouldn't have wanted a party. I would have been content unwrapping her in repetition. 

"Baby?" His voice echoed as she pushed me away, guilt riding over her face. 

"Please don't say anything...I'm..I'm sorry Trevor..." In six months, I managed to learn of her emotions. But this had to be a first of terror. 

After this exchange, knowing her body in my palms and the desperation her own made against my chest, I couldn't watch him use her as a trophy. Squeezing her ass when he wasn't reprimanding it. So I slipped out just prior to the cake, her eyes beckoning me to stay as even those pleading eyes wouldn't be enough. 

Returning to my apartment has never been this difficult. I struggled to enter as I turned back to face her door. Separated by only a walk, I was able to hear remnants of the party until it died down enough to hear only them. Her cadence softer but still muffled and his sloppy and intimidating to her. It was rage inducing as I paced my bedroom floor, needing her now more than ever. 

But she wasn't mine. It was simple. She chose him. Every night. Tonight. On the balcony. And it was enough to keep my ass in place. 

At least until two in the morning. 

The first rousing sound was that of broken glass and his raised tone. I slipped from my sheets and towards the wall, hearing her plead with him. It lasted a handful of times until the slamming of doors could be heard and an eventual sob. It was this sound of her sadness that sent me to their door before I could stop myself. 

Not your problem. Not your-

"Dumb fucking bitch!" 

Now it is. 

My anger came behind my fist as I pounded on the door. But as it came open, she only showed me half of her. The entire left side of her body was hidden behind the heavy door as I could see the disarray that remained. The strap loose down her shoulder and her hair clearly gripped after the perfect waves I had embraced a few hours prior. 

"Trevor..."

"Get rid of him..." He groaned behind her. 

"Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine..." Even a half mute, blind, or fully drunk man could tell she was lying. If the way she shook didn't show this, then the silent plea in her eyes had. 

"I left my phone...can I come get it?" 

"Can I...just have...I'll give it tomorrow-"

But as she tried to diffuse my presence and the tension it brought, he opened the door wide enough to observe her. Whatever works he spoke to me were moit behind the evidence over her. A busted lip. A bruised cheek. Tears escaping as she pleaded for me not to act. I had suspicions he was a dick. But I would ensure he'd never touch her again. 

"Get it through your head man, she isn't gonna fuck you, no matter how pathetic you are-'" Were his final words as I clasped his collar. He was quick to respond with a lower cut to my ribs, an unsuspecting blow that gave him only a temporary upper hand. 

"Trying to fight for her? She isn't fucking worth it! Trust me!" 

"Stop!" She pleaded, trying to get between us as he only pushed her away. 

"Go to my apartment..." I attempted to direct her but she remained as I was swung at. A last minute maneuver and his hand was smashed into the stone wall separating our living rooms. 

"Fuck!" 

"You're nothing but a low life asshole obsessed with her!"

"You don't ever touch her again!"

"Wrong. I do every night. Quite well. You MUST have heard her screaming for me...Knowing you'll never have her!" I ran to him as a bull to a crimson flag, sending him into the edge of his own sink. A set of elbows to my back made me release him before I rose like a man literally fighting for his life. Punch after punch until he was straddled flat. Nose broken enough to bleed profusely and two teeth loosened enough to spot out as evidence of my imminent victory. 

"Are you okay?" I asked her as I left him on the floor. My hands to her cheeks were accepted by her fingers wrapping around my wrists. But as I helped her in place, my forehead at hers with a silent confirmation, she opened her eyes in a split second to find him lunging after me. 

"Trevor!" The blade if a knife would nick my forearm before it was directed back within his abdomen. A pure reaction to a fight or flight response as everything chilled. 

I wasn't a man who often made the "right" decision. My methods were questionable and I was anything but honest in the means of...well most things. But I protected her. And it was enough to silence the guilt that she developed secondhand. 

"Trevor..." My name has never sounded so sour on her lips. But I understood. 

"You both...are...gonna be...sorry..." He shot blood rapidly. Whatever was struck by the blade was enough to be fatal as he became an immobile and flaxen in less than a minute. His back ceasing to rise in even the most shallow of breaths. 

He was dead. 

I killed him. 

For her. 

"What did you do?" Her eyes were wide. 

"He isn't going to hurt you anymore..." I took hold of her wrist and led her to my apartment. My mind was wild with a list of what to do. But as I thought of calling the police or cleaning up the scene, I watched her on the couch where I left her. Cleaning the blood from my hands in the kitchen sink, I moved to her. 

"I'm not going to apologize about what happened , but I am sorry you had to see it." I ran my thumb against her lip. "He deserved it..." she stood for a moment, my words rejected and my kindness left behind her steps. But as she moved to the door, she turned back to face me. 

"Do you have any idea what you've done? Who he is?! That's Roland Voight's son. Elusive millionaire...macabre and dark...questionable-"

"Guess the rotten apple doesn't fall far from the tree..." 

"You killed his son!" I moved closer to her. 

"And I'd do it again." I spoke with the attempt to be confident, but my words shook. Not in the fact it was untrue, but for the fact I hadn't understood the reality until she spoke the words back to me. But I meant it. If presented with the same circumstances, I would have done the same. 

"You...you killed him...you...you-" She was tripping over her words as I began to hollow. Not that I expected gratitude, but at least not hatred. I could have her disgusted with me even more than this. But then suddenly she was against him, knocking me off of my feet with her arms around my neck. 

"You freed me..." A weak smile broke our kids as I lifted her back towards the couch. This beautiful, battered, woman was mine. And I wasn't going to question it. Whether it as adrenaline or some kink, I didn't care. As far as I was concerned, she was mine and I was hers. 

"I'm not going to let anyone hurt you..." 

"I know..." She smiled softly as she writhed against me. A dance of sorts allowed to my torso as she pulled my blood soaked shirt from my body. As it bled to my skin, she traced it for only a second before I brought her focus back to me. 

"I know I should feel guilty, but I can't...I've wanted this for so long, Trevor." I couldn't believe what she said. Like a seventh wonder presenting itself for me. Only me. And I was a greedy man. Especially when it came to her. Only her. 

"So have I..." 

"Please..." Her hand came to my pants as I stopped her hand, her plea coming from this rejection. When I remained in disbelief to her, she took it upon herself to bend over the arm of the couch. Her body presented to me in the most carnal of ways. Her panties peeking from beneath her shorts and a bra strap having fallen to her elbow. But this wasn't a one night stand. This wasn't a quick fuck to forget about her. I wanted her. I needed her. I wasn't going to rush this. 

"I want to know..." She confessed looking back at me. 

"Know what?" 

"What it's like not having to fake it..." She moved back towards me, slipping out of her clothes until only her lingerie remained, as I was at a loss to do anything but witness her. She was even more perfect than I imagined. Her curves. Her soft skin. Her. 

Fuck. 

"I thought of you. Everytime he touched me. Kissed me. I wanted it to be you-"

"Jesus Christ, you're gonna kill me..." I spoke against her neck. She hasn't been on her knees for me or touched my cock and yet it throbbed like never before. 

"Please Trevor...I can take it. However you want me...I can-"

"I want to make love to you, not fuck you..." She tensed to my words, as if they were worse than the painful ones she'd sadly become accustomed to. 

"I..."

"We don't have to..." 

"I want you..." Her arm cranes around my neck. "I've always wanted you."

"Then we're doing it my way..." My dominance was only to remind her of what she deserved. And for that, I moved into my knees for her. Her legs over my shoulders as I devoured what he always took advantage of. And fuck, she was sweet. So wet. So fucking sweet. And all fucking mine. 

Her back arched in seconds as her hands gripped for a reprieve she would never have. I didn't mean to edge her yet I wanted it to last. So I slowed. The most delicious of moans coming from such swollen lips. 

"You deserve to feel only pleasure...and I'm going to show you how to..." I set her fingers between her legs. 

"No...I want you..." 

"And I need to be patient because I won't last if-"

"I don't want you to...please Trevor..." 

"Not yet, baby...you're gonna be adored first..." I pulled her around me and into the bedroom. She deserved a bed. She deserved the comfort and space I'm sure he didn't allow her. Swift ducks to make himself come. But to know I was the only one to make her, genuinely, it was a high better than any woman on her knees for me. Maybe even her. 

"I can't wait...please Trevor..." She pleaded again as I'd stretched her for me. My fingers coated in her from tip to knuckle, learning her body exclusively for me. Every shudder, mine. Every moan, mine. Every whimper belonged to-

"Trevor!" She gasped as I used my cock through her lower lips. 

"Please..." She mewled, the desperations sweater with every utterance. 

"I can't wait." She nodded, her body welcoming me stronger than I expected. Her inner walls a vice around my shaft. Fuck I could  have come immediately. Everything was too much. But she deserved to be thoroughly blissed. I pinned her hands flat on either side of her head and controlled the thrusts as she continued to beg me. 

I never wanted her to beg. It was beneath her. But damn, she made it sound so sweet. 

"Harder..."

"Not yet, baby." 

"Ugh!" Her back arched as I began to increase my speed. Sweat mixed in abundance to tell whose belonged to who. It stained the sheet all the same. 

"Please make me come, Trevor...I can feel it..."

"You don't have to ask...I will, baby. I just want you to feel all of me..." I thrusted again. Shit, she was so fucking good. Too fucking good. The way she dug her nails into me. The way she breathed in my ear. Every goddamn detail. 

"I do! You're so deep, baby-" A moan escaped my lips. I would be anything to her, gladly. But any possession made me an immediate switch. A submissive to her desires. 

"Fuck..." I strained over her as she nodded. 

"Yes, Trevor! You're gonna make me come!" Her nails clawed into my back.

"Harder." I teased the words she offered earlier as she obliged. We both wore the wounds of the night in both pleasure and pain. Red lines of nails on my back as they were left on her hips. Bruises from him were kissed and quelled by me as she showed me her appreciation of my valor. 

"Baby, tell me where to come..." 

"Inside-"

"But I didn't put on-"

"Inside-" her nails were sharp into my ass. God, I'd sold my soul to her. 

"Fuck...." I inhaled with a groan as she nodded. 

"Yes! Fuck! Ah!"

"Is it too hard baby?" I asked as she only shook her head, biting her lips closed to not belt. My hand came to her lips as she took them between her teeth, biting softly onto the pad as I kissed into her neck. 

The edge too close. Her body still too far. 

"I love you-" the words left my lips as I came to regret them already. 

"I...I didn't mean..."

"I love you too, Trevor..." She confessed breathlessly. Those words more of an aphrodisiac than any other moment. My body submitting to her as if I'd never known pleasure before. My body in tremors that she accompanied, until I was left at a rest against her chest. 

"I meant it..." I confessed. 

"Good." She smirked. "I did too." She kissed me softly. 

This was how it should always have been. Us. And I would face any charge, any man, even any hell to keep her. 

Little did I know, I was about to...

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916

MASTERLIST

TREVOR MASTERLIST

MARCH MADNESS MASTERLIST

[tarnished-doll]

KISS ME, SON OF GOD! ch.1 [godrick/oc, canon-divergent, origin story au]

'You will keep Godrick, heir of Leyendell, alive.' A Marionette of Liurnia would proceed to do a great many, terrible things to obey that directive.

The Shattering didn’t grind the world to a halt. Not at first, anyways. Life endured, births continued. Petty squabbles between factions rose and fell, and barely anyone really thought much of the demigods. Mortals had no business with the divine, unless they were related to it ever so distantly.

The Golden Lineage - the descendants of Marika, the lasting legacy of Godwyn - had a dynasty that sprawled considerably over the generations. It didn’t help that anyone with fair hair and maybe a hint of grace-gold in their eye could boast of being some unclaimed bastard. Godiva, however, had a pedigree. She knew well her place in the family.

Eldest daughter to the eldest son of Godwyn the Second, who in turn was eldest of the eponymous Godwyn the Golden, first son of Godfrey. The most direct line to a throne she would never reach in her lifetime. But why would there be a need for a mortal heir, when the very gods themselves ruled? She never thought it was fair, but it was the way things worked around here. Nobody questioned the Greater Will and its plan for the realm.

But some time after the Shattering happened, Radagon left the throne vacant, and Marika vanished into the Erdtree. These were considered two separate tragedies to the family, who had occupied almost every political seat in Leyendell since the very establishment of the Golden Order itself. For one, they actually needed an heir to the throne now.

The demigods were squabbling over the Elden Throne, sure, but the mortal side of the family could finally have a chance at something beyond mere nobility. All they needed was an heir worthy enough to hold Godwyn’s Great Rune. Godiva’s pedigree - no, her son’s pedigree - may finally culminate in that moment.

What a shame it was that young Godrick turned out like… that.

It wasn’t his fault the absence of divinity in his blood left weakness in its wake; his mother inherited it too. But at least she was dignified about it. Godrick was a young man now, and he was still throwing tantrums like a little boy. Godiva went through a new nurse for him every month, and it was getting harder to find any that hadn’t heard of how awful her son was to work with.

But now, she had a caretaker for him that wouldn’t be driven off by his foul tongue and rebellious nature. She had a nurse that wouldn’t have to be bribed or paid at all for loyal service. A nurse that wouldn’t be subject to fatigue or human error. It was wheeled into the apartment still in the box it was shipped in; an inert and vaguely humanoid thing of carved wood, metal and twine. In its featureless skull there was a chunk of glintstone powering an enchantment that would give it life. Or, ‘life’, in the most basic sense. 

Godiva was assured that it would have enough brains to keep up with a human, and it came ‘pre-programmed’ - whatever the hell that meant - with the most recent teachings of a healer’s art. Most of all, it needed no salary nor upkeep. The perfect servant.

Servants of a flesh-and-blood nature did all the work in unpacking and assembling the thing. Godiva watched them impatiently, and occasionally pressured them to hurry up. The less time she had to stay in this miserable place, the better. When the puppet was fully put together, the magic that powered it kicked in.

It was a disconcerting thing, watching a Marionette move of its own accord. It didn’t help that it had four arms that moved independently of each other, and a face that was naught but two holes on its blank, oval head in the place of eyes. What a foul thing, so uncanny and removed from humanity. Godiva would have loathed to trust her son with such a thing, if her son wasn’t such a little asshole.

As the Marionette began to assess its surroundings, Godiva turned her attention towards a human servant. “Alright, go get him up.”

The servant looked a little dismayed at being chosen. As they headed towards the young Lord’s room, Godiva leaned in to whisper something into the puppet’s ear.

The young Lord’s room was a mess, owing to often being sequestered in it all day, and how loathe the housekeepers were to have to deal with him. The usual affects of a sheltered boy clashed with medical supplies and instruments better suited to a clinic. The last nurse didn’t bother to clean up after themself, it seemed… or young Godrick chased them out before they could.

The servant approached the lump under the covers of a four-poster bed cautiously. Thankfully, it still rose and fell minutely from the boy’s breaths. “Young master.”

The boy let out a grumbling sigh, and settled deeper into the comfort of the bed. The servant cleared their throat politely.

“Young master, your mother’s here.”

“Ugh.” The thick, embroidered quilt on the bed was pulled into a tighter, curled up tangle around the boy like a cocoon. “Tell her I’m dead.”

“You know I can’t do that again, Godrick; your mother certainly doesn’t find the humor in it like you do.”

A quiet, sardonic laugh came from under the covers. With a groan, the layers of blankets were peeled back to reveal the heir apparent of the Golden Lineage.

He was but a pale, scrawny thing; all ribs, knees, and elbows. The curve where his spine met his neck was severe, and it seemed especially uncomfortable for him to stretch against it as he wrung the fatigue out of virtually non-existent muscles. Godrick took in a deep breath to yawn, only for him to choke on air and wheeze. The servant approached as the young man failed to stifle a coughing fit.

Godrick always had a kerchief at hand for this very reason, his narrow, near-concave chest heaving as he fought against his body’s reflex. Despite his distress, he glared at the servant and waved them away irritably.

When he could breathe semi-normally again, Godrick inspected the soiled white cloth of the kerchief. There was no blood this time, but it was also early in the day.

Getting down the stairs was always a miserable affair for him. He wondered often if his mother put him up on the second floor in hopes he really would one day die from one of his frequent falls. His ankles were weak and unsteady, from illness, misuse, and fear.

Godiva stood rigidly at the bottom, rather than aiding her son. As he got older, it seemed she became more and more uncomfortable around him. Though, perhaps that was just from his sour expression and rude tone. They exchanged similar scowls.

“Morning, mother.”

“Godrick.”

He didn’t notice the thing that stood in the middle of the living room at first. When he did, its human shape made him flinch away, sneering at it. “The hell is that thing?”

“Language.” Godiva reminded him cooly. She circled her son like a hawk, drawing his attention away from the Marionette. If nothing else, the family resemblance was clear when they both looked at each other with equal resentment.

“I recently received another letter of resignation from a nurse I assigned to you. I’m running out of qualified caretakers in the city still willing to work with you at this rate, you know. Do you know how embarrassing it is to bear the reputation you’ve made for yourself?”

“It’s not my fault if they can’t handle a sickly little boy.” Godrick cracked a cruel smile.

“I know you do this on purpose.” Godiva pointed a bony, accusing finger at him. “And I’m wise to your tricks. I’m not going to be responsible for when your health turns again and you have no one to keep you from choking on your own blood in your sleep.”

“That was the one time!”

“I am not giving you any more people to torture, Godrick. So, I had a suitable replacement commissioned.” Godiva gestured to the silent, still puppet that stood uninvolved in their conversation. Having to look at the thing made Godrick sneer again, his pallid face screwing up in confused disgust.

“A puppet?”

Minutely, the Marionette’s head turned towards him. Godrick practically screamed as he reared back from it.

Godiva seemed similarly disturbed by its presence, but she could temper her distaste into a more reserved, chilly frown. “It is a very sophisticated piece of technology. The sorcerers from Liurnia swear by the servitude of the automaton - it's not as filthy as a Misbegotten and it isn’t prone to illness like an Albinauric. Most of all, it doesn’t have feelings to hurt.”

The Puppet watched with its blank expression how hatred simmered in the young Lord’s eyes. “Oh, I’ll find a way.”

Godiva scoffed softly, all too used to the boy’s attitude. “It has been imbued with the latest medical knowledge from the academy, so I’ve been told. At the very least, you have someone to pick you up off the floor when you break another ankle.”

“By the next time you visit, I’ll have this thing chopped up for firewood.”

Godrick bristled from his mother’s harsh, mirthless laughter. Godiva’s spiteful tone mirrored her son’s. “You, holding an axe? I doubt that.”

She turned back to the Puppet, and snapped her fingers to get its attention. The wooden head turned unsettlingly towards her, the only reaction to be had from it as she issued her final command.

“You will keep Godrick, heir of Leyendell, alive.”

Silently, the Puppet bowed to her in response. The corner of the woman’s mouth twitched with the slightest hint of amusement. “At least this thing minds me.”

Finally, Godiva fished into the layers of her robes to hand her son a meager bit of gold. She yanked the coinpurse back from his grabbing hand momentarily to look him in the eye.

“When I come back next week, this thing better be in one piece. If you can hold off on wrecking it for that long I’ll give you double.”

Receiving his allowance was probably the only thing to please the boy all day. “Alright, deal.”

Godiva gave the Puppet a final glance before taking her leave. Apprehension briefly crossed her face before it soured, and her icy glare returned. The Puppet stared silently back.

As soon as his mother left, Godrick visibly relaxed. His posture slumped, and he leaned a little more on his cane. There was no reason to put on airs for this thing, like it was another human being. The disgust he had for it hadn’t left his face, though now he could lean in closer, curiosity piqued. He peered into the facsimile of eyes bored into the puppet’s head with a squint.

“‘Sophisticated’ my ass. You’re just another one of those ugly little Marionette soldiers the Carians keep around. I bet there’s not a single thought going through that head, isn’t there?”

“Should there be?” The Puppet asked. 

This time, Godrick did scream. It took only a single, reflexive step backwards for the boy to lose his balance. Two sets of hands caught him before he could even register the pain of his ankle twisting. The Puppet caught him mid-fall, though he probably would have preferred to crack his head open on the floor. The heir squirmed out of its grasp. “Ugh - don’t touch me!”

Godrick made sure he was a good few feet away from the Puppet, eyeing it cautiously. “What the hell, she didn’t say you could talk!”

The Puppet’s rigidity relaxed, not unlike how the boy reacted to his mother leaving him. Their four hands folded plaintively in front of them as they eyed the door Godiva left through. “It felt like it was the better choice not to do so in front of the Mistress.”

“No shit. Maybe you do have brains, then.” Curiosity overrode Godrick’s lingering fear and revulsion. Now that he could get a better look at it, he seemed almost impressed. “I thought you things couldn’t just do that - isn’t the appeal the fact that puppets can’t talk back?”

“... Is it?” It sounded concerned, like a child waiting on being lectured for a wrong answer. Godrick could only shrug.

“Fuckin’... I dunno. You’re supposed to be a ‘sophisticated piece of technology’, after all. Right? You’re a servant, not a soldier.”

“I am versed in the execution of domestic duties, yes.” The Puppet’s words were firm and certain, though they looked around the room with the wariness of a cat in an unfamiliar house. “My primary directive is to serve you in your bouts of illness, as the Mistress has outlined.”

“You’ll serve me, eh?” Godrick smirked crookedly, that cruel glint returning to his eyes. “So you’ll follow my orders, right?”

The Puppet perked up with the anticipation of being given a command, their posture going rigid again. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Alright then,” Godrick rubbed the subtle cleft in his chin, an impish look still on his face as he considered the automaton before him. “I have an order for you right now, actually.”

“Yes, my Lord?”

“I want you… to go upstairs, to my room, and out onto my balcony. Then I want you to climb over the railing and do a swan dive into the streets below - make sure its face first, now.” He could barely contain his childish glee at the idea, smiling broadly.

The Puppet just stood stock still and stared with their unnerving not-face. “The Mistress has accounted for this. I am allowed to ignore commands that may bring me to harm.”

Godrick looked a little crushed. “Dammit.”

“I have been informed that you may make it difficult for me to attend to my duties.” The Puppet’s wooden head tilted slightly in curiosity. “I find it hard to understand why you would do so, do you believe you are not in need of a nurse?”

“It’s because you’re more than just a fucking nurse, like all the other ones - you’re a babysitter because mum doesn’t think I can take care of myself, but she doesn’t want to to do the job herself, either.”

“I noticed that she left. She doesn’t live here?” Concern wavered in the Puppet’s voice. “Do you live alone in this place?”

“I asked for it.” Godrick tried, and failed, to stand straight and puff his narrow chest out. He quickly went back to his more comfortable slouch. “I’m not a kid anymore, I’m an adult - you’re going to treat me like an adult, do you understand?”

The Puppet regarded the anger in the boy’s eyes, sounding almost innocently perplexed. “I don’t understand why I would not?”

“Good. That’s… that’s good.” Godrick couldn’t keep up his own serious expression, shifting on his feet as his face screwed up in discomfort. “Ugh. I’m going back to bed. Go do… nurse… things on your own time, I’m not going to spoon feed you every order because you have a brain made out of a rock.”

His movements were careful as he hobbled off without another word, leaning heavily on his cane. The Puppet observed his uneasy gait in silence for a moment.

“You seem to be in a significant amount of pain.”

The heir groaned in exasperation. “Yes, I’m in pain. No, I’m not faking it, no I don’t know where it comes from. And yes, it does hurt everywhere!”

“I was not contesting the validity of your symptoms.”

“You’re goddamn right you weren’t.” Godrick stopped at the foot of the stairs, steeling himself for the climb. He eyed the stairs cautiously, knowing all too well the danger they entailed. Why in Marika’s name did his mother put him on the second floor?

He was startled when the Puppet returned to his side to stare blankly at the stairs alongside him. His newest nurse innocently asked, “Do you require assistance, my Lord?”

The boy’s pallid face turned pink, and he rushed to take the first few steps for as long as he could stand the pain shooting through his legs. “No, no, I’m fine, I don't need help. They’re just stairs, I can handle-”

He really couldn’t handle them, not in such a reckless manner. Eventually a knee painfully locked up and he nearly fell, stopped only by holding onto the railing, with no small part of assistance from the wooden hand that grabbed him by the scruff.

“I was also informed of your stubborn, uncooperative nature.” The Puppet noted, infuriatingly dry and unfortunately correct. Godrick braced himself for the humiliation of being carried.

Instead, they stood beside him to offer their hands to be used as extra leverage. “I only wish to make your life easier, my Lord.”

Godrick looked down at their wooden hands, his lip curling into a sneer. He still took them with an exasperated sigh. “Nothing you do is going to make it easier. Nothing works.”

“Truly?” The Puppet aided him in taking slow, careful steps. Their charge shook his head, his uncombed golden hair falling in his face.

“Nobody knows what’s wrong with me. Nobody cares, either - you can’t see pain, after all. They thought I was faking it until I started getting even sicker.”

“I do not feel pain,” the Puppet noted almost wistfully, “but I am inclined to believe you suffer from your affliction. One can see pain, if they understand the signs.”

“Hmph.” Godrick kept his eyes averted from the Marionette, cautiously watching his own steps. “When people see the signs, it's already too late. I would have preferred to be believed when I was merely aching, not when I was writhing about in agony.”

He let out a sigh of relief when the last step was cleared, already winded from such a short climb. He needed a short break even from that, leaning against the wall to take a reprieve from his cane. He gripped it too tightly again, and the hand was beginning to act up as well. He only barely moved his fingers from the stiff position they were locked in.

Gingerly, Godrick tried to massage the stiffness from his knuckles and stretch his fingers out again. He noticed the Puppet staring again, and scowled. 

“Are you just going to stand there gawking at the poor infirm little prince, or are you going to do your goddamn job?”

It was truly infuriating how they would just… stare at him, somehow conveying an expression without a face; one of a naive sincerity that clashed with the subtly wry tone of their responses to him. They mocked him, surely.

“Which is it, my Lord? Do you wish for me to aid you, or not?”

Oh, they were definitely mocking him now. If the mere idea of it didn’t make his hand hurt even more, Godrick would have loved the satisfaction of punching the damned thing. “I want you to throw yourself into the fucking fireplace, that’s what I want you to do. That will serve me quite nicely. You want me to be healthy, right? Nothing is going to be better for my health than to see you drop dead right now.”

“... I rather like living, my Lord.” The Puppet meekly refuted, “I have only been alive for a very short time, but I find this simple existence pleasant. I would like to serve - I want to serve you, my Lord.”

Godrick stared back, at a loss for words. He wasn’t sure what he expected them to say, in hindsight.

“Well, I… don’t like being served. I don’t want to be coddled, I don’t want to be looked after. I just want… someone to keep me from choking on my blood in my sleep. And pick me up off the floor when I break my ankles.”

The Puppet nodded, apparently taking his requests to heart. “I understand, but would you not prefer if I prevent these sorts of incidents happening in the first place?”

“Oh, they’re going to happen. And they’re getting worse.” Godrick managed to massage his stiff fingers into straightening out, the ache in them still seeping into their very bones. “I have more bad days than good days. New stuff comes up, I get sick in different ways all the time now. But I’m so fucking tired of having a nurse, do you understand?”

“I do not,” the Puppet answered frankly, “but I would like to understand. There are many things I don’t understand but wish to find answers for.”

“Yeah, well.. I’m not going to have those.” Godrick managed a weak shrug. “So sorry, I guess. Sucks that you’re alive but you’re stuck with me, eh?”

He tried to laugh, but the telltale feeling of a cough welling up in his chest made him stop to sputter a bit. At the very least, he felt slightly less ashamed to show his illness in front of a mere Puppet - it was different than a human that had the capacity to show contempt. Contempt was something he saw in every other servant’s eyes, and contempt was what he responded with in kind.

But this… thing, at least, held none of that in its blank expression. Its eyes were mere holes, and looking into them Godrick saw nothing. Just a stupid thing made of wood, that was alive. Which was odd.

Were these things supposed to even know they’re alive?

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Sangwoo Oh x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] I'm sorry. [ SYNOPSIS ] Desperate for guidance you turn to your parish's beloved priest. [ WORD COUNT ] 5.2k [ CONTENT ] DARK CONTENT, modern AU, y/n wears a dress, sacrilege (I sexualize Saint Sebastian among other things), violence, gore, noncon, sadomasochism, oral sex (m + f receiving), facial, vaginal fingering, virginity loss, alcohol, drugging, manipulation, gaslighting, degradation (he calls you a bitch and a slut), strength kink, size kink, creampie, blood, cannibalism, murder.

Mass was the only thing you looked forward to. All week you would anxiously await Sunday morning, unable to sleep. Sitting in the pews, hanging on your priest’s words was the only time you felt even a modicum of joy. It was a sanctuary, a place untainted by the trappings of the world.

The world was cruel and unforgiving, secular and obscene, a temptress. It stirred up the wanton feelings you tried to keep buried. Its lax rules and unrestrained passions marred you, kept you away from God’s shining light. However you never considered yourself wholly devoted to God; your relationship was always on shaky ground. Even as a kid you doubted your place in the church. The darkness lurking inside you convinced you that you weren’t worthy.

Your love of your family trumped your love of Christ. You coveted the riches of your neighbors, their fancy cars and their fashionable yet tasteful clothing. You were lazy, haunted by the illnesses you feigned as a child so you could miss school. You felt envious of your peers. Being a good Catholic came so naturally to them. Why was it such a struggle for you? Why were you cursed to wrestle with Satan?

For the longest time you kept your struggle to yourself. Sometimes you even fantasized about leaving it all behind. God wouldn’t miss a heathen, especially one constantly fighting the disgusting beast inside them. There was no point of keeping up the charade if you were so bad at it.

But that all changed when Father Sangwoo took over your parish. He was young for a priest, maybe a few years older than you at most. You constantly found yourself gazing at him during service. His voice was deep and reassuring. He was tall and had broad shoulders. He was an image of perfection, though he did look perpetually sleep deprived. His beauty was enough to make you recommit yourself to the Lord.

This revived fervor came with a new shade of self-loathing. You spent every Saturday night fingering yourself and whimpering his name. Lusting after a priest was unforgivable. But you couldn’t help it; you were insatiable.

This loathed hunger gave you the courage to linger around after mass though, your eyes fixed on Father Sangwoo. You never uttered a word or even approached him. You knew you’d end up saying something stupid. Lurking was the only intimacy you could handle. Having his direct attention would be agonizing. It’d bring you to your knees.

Usually you were content with this arrangement, but sitting in the back of the pews while two women preened him was driving you crazy. One fastened a loose button on his shirt. Another plucked a stray hair off his shoulder. You clenched your fists, digging your nails into your palm. They didn’t deserve to touch him.

You were so absorbed by your silent rage you didn’t notice him staring back at you. You flinched as your eyes met his. You tried to get up, but nearly tripped over your own foot. Your face was hot as you escaped, baptized by the crisp morning air.

“We’ll see you next Sunday, Father,” one of the women said in a sing-song voice as she brushed past you.

“We’ll see you next Sunday, Father,” you repeated under your breath mockingly.

A weighty hand grabbed a hold of your shoulder, pulling you out of your hateful haze.

“What was that?” Father Sangwoo asked, freezing you on the spot.

Your nerves got the better of you and you laughed. “It was nothing.”

You turned around to face him. He tilted his head to the side, his concerned look left you feeling exposed. It was as if he could see through you, like he could peel back whatever lies you were desperately trying to craft.

“I was just talking to myself.”

“Well that was obvious. But you didn’t answer my question. What were you saying?” he asked with a smile.

We’ll see you next Sunday, Father. You repeated the words over and over in your head, trying to conjure up a sentence that had a similar ring to it. It was maddening. Nothing came to mind. It was as if you had never spoken in your life.

“I… I said… I was saying—”

“Father!” an old woman shouted as she scurried out of the church. “There’s a bat in there!”

“Not again,” he sighed.

You went to leave but he latched onto your wrist. His grip made your joints pop.

“I’ve noticed you hanging around after service. It has me a little concerned.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh tha—that’s because I’m waiting for my ride.”

“Then why do I always see you walking down to the bus stop?”

“That’s where they get me!” you said, trying to pull your wrist out of his hand.

“That doesn’t explain why you look so miserable all the time.”

“Miserable?” you repeated in a small voice, finally freeing yourself from his grasp.

You felt ill. You always assumed you kept your anguish hidden on Sundays.

“I only noticed because I feel like that more often than not. If you ever need someone to talk to that understands, I’m here for you.”

It sounded strangely rehearsed, like he was acting in a play. But that could have been because speaking to him felt unreal. You never planned on getting this close to him.

“Father! The bat!!” the old woman called out impatiently.

“I’m on it!” He turned his attention back towards you, his gaze gentle. “Why don’t you come by the rectory tonight?”

“Me?”

He nodded. “You deserve my full attention.”

“I do?”

He patted you on the head. “Yes. I want to help you in any way I can. I hate to see any of my children so upset.”

“Fa—”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” he replied, disappearing into the church.

You stood, mouth agape. He had noticed you. This whole time he knew you were hanging around like a kicked puppy, watching him with sad eyes. You felt so exposed. But a part of you was elated. He wanted to be there for you. It was like a dream come true despite the anxiety it agitated.

The day crawled by. You felt like time slowed down to spite you. You paced around, practicing what you were going to say. Making a fool of yourself wasn’t an option. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you messed everything up.

Once the sun began to set you started to get ready. You dug through your closet, desperate to find something cute and modest. You weren’t planning on seducing Father Sangwoo or anything; you just wanted to look your best. You decided your best option was a black denim pinafore dress cut at the knee with a boxy white t-shirt underneath. Not too flashy, but not too matronly.

You took the last bus. It was a risky move, but you planned on asking him to drive you home after your talk. There was no way he’d say no. You’d be stranded without his assistance. Plotting to take advantage of his kindness felt bad, but you were greedy. The more time around him the better.

“Don’t say anything stupid. Don’t say anything stupid,” you chanted on your way up the hill.

Seeing the rectory made your stomach hurt, nerves once again getting the better of you. You stood in front of it for several minutes before you found the brave to knock on his door.

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to come,” he said.

The sunset’s warm light made him look angelic. His hair was damp, towel dried by the looks of it. He was dressed incredibly casual in a cozy, chunky sweatshirt and a pair of low hanging sweatpants. You struggled not to stare at the deep, muscular v-cut of his abs.

“You didn’t specify a time so I, uh, just left when it felt night-ish.”

“I said seven o’clock.”

He was lying. You remembered how he proposed. His wording was vague.

“No. You definitely said night.”

The warmth left his eyes, but he maintained his cheery disposition. “I don’t need you telling me what I said.”

You couldn’t imagine why he’d lie about something so benign. Maybe he did say seven and you couldn’t remember. You were pretty on edge during your conversation. It would make sense that your recollection would be tenuous.

You stared at your feet. “I’m sorry, Father.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said as he let you inside.

The rectory was sparsely decorated. You would never expect a man of God to have lavish material possessions, but Father Sangwoo’s home was barren. There was nothing on the walls except for a wooden crucifix over what you assumed was the door to his bedroom.

It smelled fetid, absolutely reeking of cigarettes. The walls were stained a nauseating yellow. Everything looked worn. You wondered if maybe the furniture was handed down from the previous priest. You tried to not let it phase you, but you couldn’t help but be alarmed by the chef’s knife stabbed into his dining room table. It was sticking straight up, erect in its posture.

“Take a seat.”

His couch sat low to the ground and was woefully uncomfortable. There were cigarette burns in the cushions which you willed yourself to ignore. In front of it was a round wooden table with a dying succulent in the middle. 

He took a seat beside you, his body broaching your personal space. “So,” he said. “What’s bothering you?”

“Um. Where do I begin…”

“I don’t know. Maybe the beginning.”

His tone was still sweet, but there was a bite to it. He was probably just trying to be funny, but you didn’t feel familiar enough with him to joke around like that.

“I’ve never felt as close to God as I should.”

“And why is that?”

“I don’t know.” You paused; you couldn’t remember any of the things you had rehearsed earlier. “I’ve never felt good enough. I feel… unworthy. I want to be closer to God, but I don’t deserve it.”

He frowned. “What makes you think you don’t deserve it?”

Your palms were clammy. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“I—uh. It’s like… I just—”

“You need to loosen up,” he interrupted.

You felt ashamed for being so uptight. He looked so bored by you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he sighed as he got up.

Your heart was in your throat as he walked past the knife. For a brief moment you had the clearest image of him grabbing it and lunging at you. You felt so guilty when he left it alone.

He came back with two shot glasses and a sizable bottle of soju. He lazily shook the bottle before cracking it open.

“Grab a glass.”

You looked at the shot glasses on the table. One looked dustier than the other. You went to grab the cleaner looking one.

“Not that one.”

You grabbed the other glass. You looked at the bottom of the glass and saw what looked like powder.

“It looks a little dirty,” you said, holding it out.

He glanced at it. “I don’t see anything.”

“Really? It—”

“Do I look like someone that would offer a guest a dirty glass?” he laughed.

You shook your head and watched him fill it. Your cheeks felt hot.

“This is my first time,” you blurted out.

He raised his eyebrows. “Well, I’m the perfect person to break you in.”

You laughed nervously and tried to avert his gaze. It was like having a spotlight on you. The glass felt so heavy in your hands. You weren’t sure how to wield it. You never saw your parents drink alcohol, excluding the Eucharist. There was no point of reference so you knocked it back in one gulp.

It didn’t taste nearly as bad as you were expecting. It was crisp with a faint sweetness. The finish was bitter. You felt like something had coated your mouth. You didn’t like it.

“Impressive,” he said smiling. “Have another.”

You held out your glass and watched him pour you another drink. You drank it just as fast the first time. You were pleased that aftertaste was pleasantly astringent rather than bitter. You went to set your glass down, but he poured you another drink. You didn’t want to be impolite so you accepted it.

“Aren’t you going to have any?”

“I will when you pour me some.”

You wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you said, taking the bottle from him. “I—I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Your hands trembled as you served him. It didn’t help that he was watching you so intently.

“That’s obvious.” He took a sip and set the glass down. “Now tell me why you don’t deserve to be close to God.”

“I’m a bad person. I mean, maybe I’m not. But I feel like I am. I’m jealous of everyone. And nothing makes me happy so I just never do anything… which makes me feel worse. I don’t know. I feel like I’m bad at loving God and cherishing his gifts no matter how hard I try. And—this is so ridiculous—but If I can’t be the best at it, why even bother?”

“That is ridiculous,” he said, pouring you another shot.

“I know. I know. And that’s why I never wa—wanna talk about it. It’s so stupid. It’s not a competition. I tell myself that all the time, but it doesn’t stop me from comparing myself to others. It makes me wanna give up. But I’d feel so lost without the church and the world is so… overwhelming. I get swept up in the temptations. I’m not strong enough. Not strong enough to leave. Not strong enough to survive. I’m stuck.”

“Temptations? Like what exactly?”

You swallowed hard. “Uh. Um. You know… people.”

He poured you another shot. You drank it down happily, but noticed he still hadn’t finished his.

“They’re…” You let out an embarrassed laugh. “I get urges.”

He smirked. “Everyone has those.”

“Do you?”

“I said everyone, didn’t I?”

Your cheeks were on fire. You wanted to bury your face in your hands, but your arms were too heavy.

“What do you do about these urges?” he asked.

“Father, I’m not sure we should talk about that.”

“I can’t help you if you keep things for me.”

“… I don’t act on them. I wanna wait until I’m married. But… sometimes at night I…I can’t. It’s too embarrassing.”

He leaned in. “You touch yourself, don’t you?”

You started feeling woozy. “I know I shouldn’t, but I don’t know what else I’m su—supposed to do.”

“You can always find someone else to do it for you.”

“Isn’t that even worse?” you slurred.

“It depends on the person.”

He put his hand on your thigh. Your head was swimming. Your body felt heavier by the second. It was like you were slowly descending into an abyss. He slipped his hand under your dress. You closed your thighs and cursed the wet spot blossoming between your legs. You didn’t want this. Fantasizing was one thing. Living them out was terrifying. If you fooled around with a priest, you would burn in Hell for eternity.

You tried to brush his hand away. “Don’t.”

“Shssh. Let me help you.”

He lifted up your dress and opened your thighs. You winced as he rubbed the wet patch on your underwear.

“I’m serious. Stop.”

“Don’t be a tease.”

“We’re not allow—”

“Who fucking cares,” he cooed as he forced his hand under your underwear. “Just relax.”

“Father, please.”

He spread apart your folds and slipped his fingers inside you.

“I can’t,” you whimpered, your body tensing up.

He ignored you and rubbed your clit. You hated how good it felt. It made the pain of having his fingers inside you a little bearable, but still the inherent wrongness of it all weighed on you. You tried to keep quiet, but a breathy moan fell from your lips as he applied more pressure.

“Who would you imagine touching you?”

“I don—I don’t wanna say…'' you drawled.

You were losing your grip.

“Quit being a bitch and tell me,” he demanded as he fingered you.

He curled his fingers inside you, grinning as you gasped.

“You.”

He smirked. “Aw. This must be a dream come true then.”

Your body was getting limper by the second. Staying conscious was barely possible. You writhed against the couch as he thrust his fingers deep inside you. You arched your back and rolled your hips against them. You wondered if this was God punishing you for not being devout.

“Look at how easily you’re falling apart.”

You cursed your body for betraying you. 

“Don’t. Please,” you begged.

“You think you get to act like a slut and tell me no?”

Tears trickled from the corners of your eyes. You felt like an idiot for crying.

“I’m… I’m s—so sorry, Father.”

“It’s okay.” He wiped away one of your tears. “I forgive you for tempting me.”

He was knuckles deep in your cunt and showed your clit no mercy.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you moaned.

He smirked and pulled you into a kiss. His mouth tasted like cigarettes. You thought about pulling away, but things weren’t so bad now that he couldn’t berate you. It was kind of nice actually. You steadied yourself by placing your hands on his chest. He bit down on your bottom lip before brushing his tongue along the tender skin. You opened your mouth and rolled your tongue against his. You had no idea what you were doing and prayed you were doing a good job.

“Father,” you whimpered. “I don’t feel so good.”

You felt yourself losing consciousness. You could barely keep your eyes open.

“You’re fine,” he said, pressing his lips to your neck. “It’s okay.”

You tried to speak, but all you could do was groan. He sunk his teeth into your neck and you drifted away.

A stinging pain roused you from your daze. You didn’t know where you were or how you ended up there. You could barely open your eyes; it was as if they were glued shut. It was such a simple act, but for some reason it was a herculean effort. Your body felt like lead and your head was throbbing.

You felt a cool breeze against your skin, stronger than a fan or air conditioning. You fought to lift your head, but all you managed to do was roll it slightly to the side, your chin pressing against your chest. You groaned and tried to will yourself out of your haze.

God must have taken pity on you because like clockwork your eyes sprung open. Unfortunately what roused you was the sting of something penetrating your ribs. It was the kind of pain that came on sharp and fast, and radiated through your body.

You groaned and tried to focus. The world was a blur, the light blinding. You were freezing and sore. You tried to swat away whatever had penetrated you, but your arms were bent back and tied at the wrists. All you could do was writhe.

You looked down and saw your body, unclothed and bruised. You choked on your breath when you noticed two wooden arrows jutting out of your thigh. Your stomach was in your throat. You could barely shriek as another arrow whizzed past your ear.

“Whoops.” It was a low voice, eerily familiar. “Don’t move around so much.”

The saccharine tone made you sick. Spit pooled in your mouth. You finally found the strength to lift your head. Your eyes met his. You recognized him. No, you knew him. 

“Good morning,” Father Sangwoo said, shooting another arrow at you. It pierced the soft skin of your underarm.

“STOP!” you screamed. “What are you doing?!”

Stomach acid inched up the back of your throat.

He smiled. “Isn’t it obvious?”

You spat at the ground before shaking your head. You couldn’t make sense of anything. The muscles in your shoulders felt like they were on fire. You must’ve been tied up for hours.

You turned your head to the right and saw a dense forest of red pines.

You inhaled sharply. “Why ar—”

He sighed and set his bow down gently. His looming figure made his way over, dread pooling in your stomach. His steps were slow and deliberate. His lips curled into a smirk. He grabbed you by the hair and forced you to look at him.

“Why all the dumb questions?”

“M—my rib—”

He glanced at the arrow sticking out of your ribs. “What about them?”

“Hurts,” you choked out through gritted teeth.

“C’mon. It didn’t even go in that deep.”

He yanked it out. A stream of warm blood flowed from the wound. All you could do was shriek.

“Yell all you want,” he said, licking your blood off the tip. “It’s not like anyone’s around to hear you.”

You decided to take a chance and kept screaming. Your voice cracked as you called out for help. At first he seemed amused, but his expression soon changed to one of disgust and boredom.

“Are you done? Did you get it out of your system?”

You let out one last anguished cry before settling down. Your throat ached.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset. You agreed to this last night.”

You sniffled. “I would never agree to something like this.”

He laughed. “Oh, really? You told me I could while I was filling your ass with my cum. Or at least I think you did. You were saying a lot of weird shit.”

“You’re lying!”

“So what if I am? It’s not like me telling the truth is going to help you.”

His cock was hard, fighting against the cloth of his sweatpants. You started to sob.

“Please just let me go.”

“Why would I do that? You’re my little crybaby.”

“I won’t tell anyone. I won’t say anything,” you pleaded.

You clenched your jaw, grinding your teeth. You desperately tried to ignore the searing pain of the arrows.

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m not letting you go.”

You fought against the rope tying you to the tree. You wanted to kick his teeth in. Your fear had mutated into a fury like no other.

“Let. Me. Go.”

“Alright. I’ll let you go.”

He quickly untied your arms. The relief was immense. You could have sworn angels were singing as your shoulders finally relaxed. As you sunk down into the ground he pulled out his erect cock.

“But you gotta suck me off first.”

You immediately opened your mouth. You’d do anything to get out of there.

“Good girl,” he said, stroking his shaft.

It was long and veiny, the slit dripping precum. He guided it into your mouth, groaning as you struggled to take it in. Tears ran down your cheeks and you choked.

“Breathe through your nose.”

You heeded his advice and it helped a little. You were too weak to bob your head so he held the base of your skull and gently thrusted against it. Anytime his cock slipped down your throat you gagged. He looked so smug as he stared down at you, grinning as you struggled to suck.

“You’re so pathetic,” he said as he rutted against your face. “You’re lucky you’re cute or else it’d be annoying.”

You whimpered.

“Is it too much for you?”

He pushed you off of his cock. A thin string of drool clung to it, connecting your mouth to his tip.

“Mhm,” you answered feebly.

“Really? Do you wanna stop?” 

“Yes.”

“Ah, I see. So you’re rejecting me? That doesn’t make me feel good considering I listened to you bitch about your life last night. You should be kinder to your host. Didn’t your family teach you any manners?”

“I—But you said you were going to help—”

He laughed. “What is it with you and telling me what I said? You keep doing that and I’m gonna have to bash your skull in.”

Your eyes were so wide you thought they were going to fall out of your head. You refused to believe this was happening. You pretended like you were anywhere else. You tried to ignore the cold breeze pricking your skin, the blood drying on your body, how exposed you felt, and most of all you tried to ignore Father Sangwoo.

“Don’t look so scared.”

You shut your eyes and thought about your warm bed. Your cat was probably curled up at the foot of it, waiting for you to come home and feed him. All it did was make you cry harder. You should have kissed his little forehead before you left. But you were in such a rush, too eager to meet up with the Devil himself.

“Hey.” He kicked you with his bare foot. “Listen to me when I’m talking to you.”

“What?” you sniffled.

“You look terrified. You should smile.”

Your expression didn’t change.

“Do you wanna live?”

You nodded.

“Then smile!” he cheered.

You grimaced.

“Perfect,” he said as he jerked off.

You sat there, grinning like an idiot and trying to ignore the immense pain you were in. He looked down at you with a predator’s gaze, teeth biting into his bottom lip. His breathing grew shallow and he tossed his head back as his cum splattered against your face.

“Do you feel blessed?” You didn’t, so you chose not to answer and kept smiling. He kicked you again. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good girl,” he said. “You look cold. I think you’ve earned going inside.”

He took his time pulling the arrows out of you, talking about how badly he wanted to fill your wounds with his cum. He assured you he was kidding, but gave you absolutely no reason to believe him. How could trust someone so duplicitous?

He carried you like a bride through the red pines. He did it with such ease; it made your heart flutter. You were still terrified, but you clung to him. You imagined you were in the arms of someone else, someone that wouldn’t call you names and maim you.

“How much further?” you asked. The forest seemed to have no end.

“I wouldn’t be in a rush if I were you.”

“I’m ju—just really cold.”

He kissed your cheek and assured you it wouldn’t be much longer.

When you reached the grounds, he went in the opposite direction of the rectory.

“Why—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The church wasn’t much warmer than outside. You actually felt less comfortable. You knew you were going to Hell. There was no escaping your fate at this point. You buried your face in his neck.

He laid you down on the altar. A clear plastic tarp was draped over it. It stuck to your grimy, bloody skin. You attempted to cover your chest with your aching arms.

“I don’t know why you’re trying to be modest now,” he said as he got undressed. “I’ve already seen everything.”

“Not in here,” you said weakly.

He rolled his eyes and spread apart your legs. He positioned himself between them and ran his tongue down your folds. Your toes curled as he kissed your clit. His gaze never left yours. He took in every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. You found yourself enjoying the bliss of his kiss and the pain radiating from your wounds.

“Father,” you mewled as you ran your fingers through his hair.

It was so soft. You twirled a strand between your fingers as he feasted on your dripping cunt. You rolled your hips against his face, surrendering yourself to euphoria. He kissed the inside of your thigh before biting into your tender flesh. You winced as he applied more and more pressure. His teeth broke through your skin. You tried to push him away, but you were too weak.

The pain was indescribable. You would have rather he shot you with more arrows. His teeth dug further into your thigh and he pulled away with your flesh between his teeth. Blood poured from the newfound wound.

You watched in horror as he swallowed. You looked at your thigh and shrieked when you saw the chunk he took out of you.

“What?” he asked as he lapped at the blood spilling out.

You tried to get up but he held you in place.

“Please stop! I’ll do anything!”

He ignored you and bit down on another part of your thigh.

“Just let me go! I won’t say anything! You’ll never see me again! I’ll leave you alone! I promise! I swear to God!”

He ripped off another piece of flesh. Your blood covered the bottom half of his face. He looked like a wild animal. He crawled back on top of you, his face unbearably close to yours.

“You should be honored,” he cooed.

You tried to wriggle away from him, but he was too strong.

“I usually don’t do this, but fuck. You’re so pure. I need you to be a part of me.”

All you could do was weep.

“Hush. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” he consoled as he forced his cock inside you. “Jesus Christ, you’re so tight.”

He began to thrust. He clenched his jaw and rutted against your limp body. You watched as his cheeks turned pink and his brows knitted together in rapturous agony.

“I couldn’t throw you away like the others. You’re such a precious, little thing.” He kissed you. “I needed more time with you. I thought about snapping your neck last night, but that would’ve been such a waste. You deserve better.”

You felt so small underneath him.

“Fuck! If I could keep you I would, but that’d be too complicated.”

“So yo—you’ll let me go?”

“Huh?” He moaned as his cock hit your cervix.

“After this… you’ll let me go home?”

He burst out into laughter. “What? Are you a fucking idiot? Of course I’m not letting you go home.”

“Then please keep me! I won’t cause you any problems! I won’t say anything to anyone! I’ll do whatever you want! Just please don’t kill me! I don’t wanna die!”

“Wouldn’t death be better than being miserable all the time?” he asked, stroking your cheek. “Think about it. It would solve all your problems.”

“No, it wouldn’t! I don’t wanna give up. Please just let me live.”

“I’ve already made up my mind. I’m sorry,” he said. “It’ll be okay. Your death won’t be in vain or anything.” He picked up the pace. It felt like his cock was going to split you in two. “I promise I’ll put your body to good use.”

“Father—”

“Shut up,” he said, covering your mouth. “I’m gonna come.”

He filled your cunt to the brim with his cum. He held your body close to him and pressed his forehead against yours. You lost all hope. There was no escape. You had completely resigned yourself to your fate. All you could do was hope his hand would be swift, and you wouldn’t suffer much.

[thatredheadwriter]

New Suit

frankie morales x reader [3.3k]

Frankie needs a confidence boost after trying on clothes {I’ve certainly been there). You’re more than happy to help.

-

This is an NSFW oneshot for female reader with Frankie Morales of Triple Frontier. This work contains smut and mature language and should not be read by those under 18. As a writer, I will attempt to make accurate warnings for each of my fics, however, I cannot guarantee that I will identify each and every sensitive topic. My works regularly contain swearing, allusions to/mentions of sex, and canon-level violence.

Content Includes (but is not limited to):

pet names (baby, pup, etc)

body insecurity (Frankie, not reader)

f!dom

m!sub

teasing

lots of dirty talk

oral (m receiving)

Frankie pulls a brat card

hair pulling

hickeys/marking

stoplight system/scene check-in

thigh riding

saying nice things about your partner during sex (I guess this counts as praise?)

unprotected PIV sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy)

riding (receiver on top) position

allusions to the elusive A-spot

aftercare (that goes both ways!)

Please read at your own discretion and remember to consume your fanfiction responsibly.

-

“I look like an idiot!” Frankie calls from the bathroom, amongst a string of curses and odd noises you hope to god aren’t the destruction of anything too expensive.

“I know that’s not true. Do you want my help?” you start to rise from your spot on the bed but a quick, grumpy ‘no’ glues you to your spot.

Frankie Morales loves his friends. He’d do anything for them. Apparently, that includes wearing a suit, which is the one thing he’s been dreading like hell since Will asked him to be in the wedding party.

As curious as you are to see your diamond in the rough a little polished up, you haven’t enjoyed the anxiety the fitting process has caused him. It was Emily’s idea to use an online service, she knew there was no chance in hell to get all the guys in a tailor shop at one time.

“You can’t laugh, okay?” Frankie says from somewhere just his side of the door.

“Baby, I promise I won’t laugh.”

Frankie emerges from the bathroom looking like a kicked puppy, head hung low. It doesn’t match the sight before you.

A white button-down stretched across his chest serves as the perfect base for the dark blue suit that covers the rest of him. The crisp lines and structure of the jacket highlight all your favorite things about his physicality–the height, his broad shoulders, the little belly he despises that you absolutely love.

The pants are even better. While you can tell the waistband is a little snug, his thighs are skimmed just right in a way that makes you drool. You just know that if he turned a little you’d be treated to the sight of his ass draped in the same gorgeous fabric.

“How bad is it?”

Frankie’s question shocks you from your daze and you look at him like he’s grown a third head.

“Ex-fucking-scuse me, but I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” you unfold yourself from the bed as your partner starts to protest. “You look fine. Better than fine, actually. Baby you look fine.

“I’m not…don’t say that just to make me feel better.”

Frankie doesn’t want your words? Fine. You’ll just show him how you feel.

He hasn’t met your eyes since he stepped out of the bathroom with that damned suit on. And he doesn’t. Until you take his jacket lapels in your fists and use the grip to pull his body against yours.

“Look at me, baby,” you purr, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He meets your gaze with a mix of confusion and self-loathing. “You look absolutely stunning in that suit. And if it wasn’t a rental, I’d tell you to leave it on for what I’m about to do next.”

You steer him back towards the bed, your favorite man instantly turned to putty in your hands.

“What are you going to do?”

A wicked smirk curls across your face as you sink to your knees in front of him. “I’m going to remind you just how fucking gorgeous you are.” You don’t miss the way his nostrils flare when your rub your nose along the line of his thigh, dangerously close to the growing bulge just a few inches away. “Is that okay with you?”

“Fuck, yes,” Frankie grunts above you, hands balled in fists at his side.

“The blue really suits you, Frankie. Pardon the pun.” Your fingers trace absent patterns from the sides of his thigh to the edge of his waistband where his tummy presses against the fabric. “Such a shame to take it off, but if you really hate this suit there’s no point in buying it.”

“Nope.” There’s a tension to his voice, and his knuckles have gone white at his side. The amount of power, the amount of restraint before you, it has you dripping into your jeans.

“Strip then,” you order, sitting back on your heels.

It’s an excellent view as he slides the jacket down his arms, tugging a little harder as it gets caught on his biceps. His deft fingers make quick work of the pants. He unbuttons and zips them and in one quick motion you nearly miss they’re in a crumpled pile in the corner of the room.

You’re torn on where to look. On one hand, Frankie’s impressive cock is just inches away from your face, barely contained by the charcoal gray boxer briefs that are sporting the tiniest spot of precum. But above you is the embodiment of delayed gratification. You watch as pearl colored buttons are undone one at a time by fingers so large yet so nimble. Each one reveals more and more of his broad chest. Until finally it falls open to the trail of hair that disappears into the waistband of his boxers.

He tugs on the sleeves a couple times each before tossing it in a ball to join the jacket and trousers. His thumbs just hook into the waistband of his underwear when you stop him, hands over his.

“Allow me, baby,” you grin, saccharine sweet and deadly.

Slowly, like you’re taking apart a bomb, you slip an index finger into each side of his waistband before hooking your fingers and tugging ever so gently. The hiss of breath above you is telling of Frankie’s patience, and you look up at him with your most innocent pout.

“Don’t want to damage the merchandise.”

Once his impressive cock springs free, you tug them the rest of the way down and pull gently until Frankie’s stepped out of them. They unceremoniously join the growing pile of clothes.

“Such a handsome cock,” you say to no one in particular. Your hand slips around the base of him and he lets out half a sigh.

You can feel his eyes on you as you lean in slow and kiss the tip. You kiss him again, and again. But that first lick, oh it gets him every time. Just a small thing right under the tip, but it has his head dropped back and his ears turning bright red.

There’s no hurry in the way you enjoy Frankie’s cock. Whenever he takes control, which is more often than you do, you don’t get to take your time with him like this. To really relish every little catch of breath and muffled curse coming from above you. Slowly you begin to work him into your mouth—taking part of him, and then more.

When you bottom out at the base of his cock, nose pressed to his pelvis, a strangled moan leaves his throat. Almost involuntarily his fingers begin to card through your hair, scratching at your scalp in the way that sends tingles down your spine. You pull off almost immediately, an obscene amount of saliva dripping down your chin and off his cock.

“Ah, ah,” your hands slip up over his wrists and tug them away from your head and pin them gently to the bed by his thighs. “Did I say you could touch?”

“You’re killing me, pup,” Franke grits his teeth above you.

Your voice and gaze are sharp, “Hands off or I stop. Tell me who runs this show, flyboy?” While you wait for his response, your hand returns to his throbbing cock where you stroke him almost absentmindedly, if it weren’t for the way you were absolutely torturing him. Meanwhile, your eyes stayed fixed on his, a teacher waiting on the answer of her pupil.

“You. Fuck, you’re in charge,” he snarls behind gritted teeth.

That earns him a smile. He’s being so good after all.

In bed, Frankie usually takes and gives what he wants, and you’re happy to let him. But in times like these, both of you know who needs to take the reigns.

“Sit back on the bed for me, Francisco.” Your hand slows to a stop and you stand from the floor. “I want to show you something.

He does as you ask without hesitation and watches enraptured as you strip off your saliva spotted t-shirt and shimmy out of your jeans. His cock stands proudly at attention, glistening in the early afternoon light as he takes in your lace clad form.

It’s not a fancy set, a cotton bralette and matching thong. However it just so happens to be his favorite. You had a feeling suit fitting would at least warrant a little treat.

But Frankie doesn’t get to enjoy it all yet.

“Do you want to see me cum?”

You’re facing the wall, and from the mirror in the corner you see the way his cock twitches at the thought. A low groan rumbles from his chest as he fights the urge to relieve himself in the slightest and instead answers with a breathy, “Yes.”

“Francisco, do you deserve to see me come?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

His words hit you like cold water, and you turn with fire in your eyes.

Slowly and deliberately you come to stand before him before straddling one of his thighs and lowering yourself down. Your eyes stay locked with his the entire time.

In a quick move--that you learned from him--your hand jets up his back to grab a fistful of luscious curls. Using the leverage you yank his head back, exposing the column of his neck and earning yourself a needy whine from the large man beneath you.

“No, you fucking don’t,” you whisper in his ear. And then you’re devouring him, holding him in place by the thinnest tether. Your lips and teeth move down the prominent muscles and tendons of his neck, memorizing every groan and whimper along the way until you’re nipping at his collarbone and you feel precum start to drip on your thigh.

When you finally pull away, the both of you are panting, and need wells deep within his eyes.

“Color?” you breathe, dropping the persona for just a moment and releasing your hold on his hair to sweep a stray curl away from his brow.

“Green.”

You give him a soft smile and a deeper kiss than you intended before pushing him away, hands flat on his chest. From there they travel, caressing down his arms until you find his wrists. From thumb to middle finger, your hand doesn’t even come close to reaching.

Frankie watches silently as you guide his wrists behind him, a stifled moan when your tits press against him. You settle them behind his ass.

“Leave them there or I’ll get the cuffs.”

You kiss him again, and allow yourself to get lost in the usual rhythm of Frankie. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders as you begin to move your body against his, moving your clothed cunt against his thigh.

“Do you want to know how this is going to work, baby?” you croon lowly, just for the two of you to hear.

He nods silently, brow knit with the effort it’s taking him to keep his hands where they are without restraints.

“I’m going to hump your gorgeous fucking thigh here,” you giggle when he blushes ever so slightly, “And say all sorts of lovely things about you.”

“Yeah?”

The word is dripping in lust.

“Yes, baby. I’m gonna cum all over your thigh. And if you’re a good boy for me, I’m going to ride that pretty cock of yours until you fill me up, just like you like.”

“Shit.”

Despite the way you’re rocking your hips against him, you have to focus on your purpose with this exercise.

One of your hands slips its way back up into the base of Frankie’s thick hair. You run your fingers through his curls.

“I love these curls, you know. They drive me wild. You drive me wild, the way you’re always wearing that damn hat.”

His eyes are transfixed on the place where your core is rubbing against him, mouth parted as his breath comes in heavy pants.

“You’ve got this gray coming in, just here,” your other hand snakes up Frankie’s torso, cradling his tense jaw in your palm. “It makes you even sexier, you know. Eventually you’ll be my silver fox.”

Underneath you, Frankie harrumphs and looks away, but you’re quick to redirect his attention when you grab his chin.

“Uh-uh, baby, let me see those pretty eyes. I need you to hear me,” you tap the side of his face with your fingers, and grin wildly at the way he bares his teeth.

“God, this perfect fucking thigh. I could do this for ages. Get to watch you lose your mind while I use you like a toy.”

The hand around his back makes its way around to rest on the small swell of his belly. “This little belly you hate so much, I go feral for it. Love seeing you get soft for me. No one knows how deep you fuck me into the mattress at night.”

A familiar sensation is building at the base of your spine, and you bite back a moan that threatens to escape.

“Your friends are so lucky to have you. You’re brave, loyal, kind.” You nearly lose your rythm at the look of absolute anguish on Frankie’s face, but then your clit catches fabric and muscle just right, making your hips stutter as you cry out.

“You’re so strong and powerful and so fucking gentle,” you ramble, racing towards your high. “Fuck, Frankie. You can touch me. Hands on my hips, baby. I need to feel you.”

Frankie doesn’t need to be told twice. You can see the instant relief when his hands land on your heated skin, his forehead coming to press against yours.

“You-you’re a good man, Frankie. I mean that. You deserve so, so much,” you pant. When your eyes find his face again you notice a single tear has escaped down the side of his cheek.

“And I’m gonna cum for you.”

His hands help guide you through it, helping you stay balanced even as your toes curl and your fingernails dig into the meat of his shoulders. And when you’re finished, he waits for you to call the next move as you catch your breath.

“Good fucking boy,” you praise, reaching for his hand. Entwining your fingers, you bring his wrist to your mouth so you can kiss and bite at the pulse point there. “The best, my Francisco.”

WIth one last nip, you stand on shaky legs and push Frankie back onto the mattress. He knows what’s coming—and so does his cock. Poor thing is practically purple, dripping precum left and right.

He repositions himself up the bed, sitting up on his elbows to watch as you strip off your soaked thong and bralette. His tongue traces his lip and you know he’s just dying to get his mouth on your chest.

“You ready for me?” you ask as you swing your leg over him, settling over his delightfully plush belly. He doesn’t answer at first, too enamored by the swell of your breasts right in his line of sight. “You can touch ‘em once you’re inside me, sweetheart.” You chuckle at his distraction.

“Fuck, I’m ready.”

You lift yourself up and hover for a moment as you line his aching shaft up with your cunt. There’s plenty of slick leftover from your orgasm, but it’s still a tight fit as you sink on top of him. Twin moans fill the room as you’re slowly filled to the hilt.

“Shit, pup, you’re so tight,” his face is pinched in concentration as he tries not to rut into you right away.

“Shhhh, shhhh,” you rub a hand down his chest, chuckling only a little when he settles one hand on your tit and the other on your hip. “You’re doin’ so good for me, baby. That’s my boy.”

A few deep breaths in and out and you finally begin to roll your hips. Grinding at first until you find your rythm, then you start to really ride him, pushing yourself up and down on his aching shaft.

You’ll have bruises tomorrow the way Frankie’s gripping you, but you always do. Not that you’d ever mind. He sits up a little so he can suck a nipple into his mouth. Frankie’s always thorough, he takes his time lavishing each side with tongue and teeth. By the time he’s had his fill of your tits, both of you are so close to that carnal precipice you can nearly taste it.

You feel everything start to tighten with the promise of your orgasm and suddenly it’s a lot harder to keep a steady pace. Planting your hands firmly on Frankie’s chest, you lean down just the slightest bit and growl, “Why don’t you help me a little here, big boy?”

That’s all it takes. You’re still in control, but Frankie is eager to please and he knows exactly what you—and he—want. Finally allowed to chase his pleasure, and actively contribute to yours, you’re ready when he plants his heels on the bed and begins thrusting up into you so hard you’re bouncing from the force of it alone.

He’s practically incoherent beneath you. Declarations of love and strings of endearment are cut off by primal sounds as he determinedly fucks you to your high. At this angle, the friction of his skin against your clit is just enough to push you over that edge, and when he hits a spot you’ve never felt before you think you’re going to explode with pleasure.

“Fuck, Frankie, don’t stop! Right there!” Your eyes are screwed tight and you’re not hardly recovered from your second orgasm when he finds the spot again. And again and again. Until you collapse sobbing onto Frankie’s chest in one of the most intense orgasms of your life as he ruts up into you two, three more times before he cums deep and hot inside of you.

“Shit, pup, are you alright?” He’s careful as he sits up, unsure of what just happened other than that you’ve gone completely boneless on top of him.

You’re trying to move but it’s like your nervous system is still rebooting.

“I’m fine, just need a sec,” you try to laugh but it comes out more of a breathy chuckle. It’s not too long before you can sit up again. When you do, Frankie’s eyes are studying you with deep concern.

“You good?”

“I’m good, Frankie. I think you just learned a new trick.”

The two of you soon realize that the bed is wet. Your eyes meet Frankie’s and the two of you dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“Go start the shower,” you kiss him deeply, “I’ll change the sheets.”

He holds you long enough to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. As chaste as a kiss can be when his half-hard cock is still inside you.

You part from him with a groan and begin your task--not without sneaking a peak at his wide, tight ass--as Frankie struts off to the bathroom.

-

You hold him from behind, cheek pressed between his shoulder blades as the water cascades down the front of him.

“How was it?” you murmur into the cool skin of his back.

“Mi tesoro, it was everything. Thank you.”

“I didn’t go too far?”

Frankie breaks free of your hold and turns to face you, one hand falling to rub a familiar pattern on your hip, the other cradling your jaw.

“Never, pup. I loved every minute of it. And you.” He seals his words with a kiss that has your hands slipping up to hook around his neck, afraid he’ll pull away before you’re properly drunk on him.

You’re breathless when he breaks away, tugging at your lower lip between his teeth as you part. A wicked smirk pulls at his lips.

“And I’m keeping the suit.”

[misojunnie]

CHERRY ─ psh. ❀ (teaser)

a lollipop a day keeps park sunghoon away…

# genre: outcast!sunghoon x class prez!fem!reader enemies to lovers, slow burn, high school au, 90’s au

# warnings: insults, minor violence, substances/partying, cursing, sunghoon is an asshole

# featuring: sunghoon & enha! + txt + aespa

# playlist: not for sale by enhypen, still into you by paramore, chaser by woodz, high school sweethearts by melanie martinez

# a/n: hi guys!!! I am super excited about this new little project bc I love hoon and I’ve never written a full project for him :( lmk if you wanna be added to the tag list and I hope u enjoy the teaser!!!!

# taglist: @enhacolor @hiqhkey @alicesolengg @ningngyu @ramenoil @simjakeissohot @skzenhalove @parkhonnie @denleave1088 @voidbeomgyu @ilymarkchan @everyoneluvscheol @haerinpham @fakeuwus @chesh1re-cat @advesperamz @papiibuprofen @loveliii @cutiejseong @luvyouchuu @hancafe @aeminju @chaerybae @b1ndignity @edilysoob @river-06 @fariylixie0915 @amortenha @hoonpalettes @asyleums @moonmoongi @jyndre @parksunghoonsgf @whippedforbeomgyu @dianzed @soobliss @manooffline @iscocohere @saythenameseventeen178 @woniewonn @luv4cheol @tinylittlebuggi @h-hazwie @ddazed-lhs @neoculturewhat @ilovewonyo @aesunghoon @hanienie @jrjr289 open!

cherry is officially out! read it here <3

it isn’t a well disguised fact that park sunghoon doesn’t like you–no, hate would be a better word. park sunghoon hates you, and he makes it clear to everyone who knows him. but when you leave him a different flavored lollipop every day, it gets a little harder to loathe you.

[more under the cut]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

Park Sunghoon finds solace in the fact that he annoys you.

He isn’t sure he truly does, as you’re quite adept at keeping your face blank when something pisses you off. But for a moment, that bright, customer-service smile slips, and the left corner of your lip twitches when he sneers at you from across the room. That’s how he likes it. He likes that he has an effect on you, negative or otherwise, although it was always the former.

“You need to let it go.” Jake sighed as he watched Sunghoon’s eyes follow you across the room when you stand to pass out the semester syllabus. “I don’t even understand why you don’t like her."

“How could you not?” he phrased his question like a statement.

“Well, first of all, she’s my math tutor.” Jake says, smacking the top of his best friend’s head with a rolled up spiral notebook, crumpling his notes. “So I have to get along with her. And second of all, she makes it pretty easy considering she’s such a catch.” Sunghoon groaned in annoyance, a petulant frown on his pretty face.

“God, you’re so brainless.” Sunghoon whined. “You’re just another one of the idiots completely infatuated with her.”

Well, why wouldn’t he be? You’re the president of the school council, head of the party planning committee, photographer of the yearbook club, and the school newspaper’s best writer. It’s an intricate balancing act, and a wonder that you could keep it up on the daily.

“I’m not infatuated.” Jake said with an indignant hiss. “I just don’t hold stupid grudges– shit, she’s coming.” The Aussie cleared his throat and painted an enthusiastic and eager smile onto his face as you approached the boy’s shared table.

“Good morning.” you chirped, and Jake grinned in response. “Here’s the syllabus.” You passed a double sided sheet of paper to each of them, gently setting it down on the desk. It didn’t escape Sunghoon’s attention that his was wrapped up in a roll, a piece of tape closing the document into a cylinder. You sent him a soft smile, looking at him through your lashes, before backing away from the table and moving onto the next pair of students who were waiting to receive their assignment. Sunghoon rolled his eyes, hesitantly peeling off the strip of adhesive and unrolling the paper to reveal the object inside, Jake peering curiously over his shoulder in an attempt to see.

“God, she’s still at it.” Sunghoon groaned, reaching down to pick up a small lollipop, a vivid yellow and wrapped in a holographic piece of cellophane with a little red ribbon tying it closed. “I thought she might’ve stopped.”

“Dude, you’re so lucky.” Jake breathed enviously, and Sunghoon looked at him with distaste. “You know how many guys in this school would kill to get a lollipop from her?” Sunghoon ignored his best friend's implorations, unwrapping the treat and shoving it into his mouth.

Lemon. He hated lemon.

When he looked back to the front of the classroom, you were setting the remaining stack of papers on the teacher’s desk, peeking at Sunghoon’s reaction. You seemed somewhat pleased to see the boy sucking on the sweet you had left him, and you sent a bright smile in his direction. His eyes were drawn to your shirt, which was adorned with what he thought was a very tacky depiction of a dove and some hearts, and he inwardly grimaced. Apparently, it wasn’t too inward judging by the look on your face.

He smirked, lifting up his hand and subtly sending you a different kind of bird with his middle finger. Your smile dropped entirely, and you rubbed your lips together in annoyance, retreating to your desk with a mix of frustration and despondence. That made him very satisfied.

“Would it kill you to be nice for once?” Jake asked, a skeptical look on his face as he watched the entire encounter go down. Sunghoon shrugged, setting his hand down on his desk and strumming his slender fingers on the wooden surface.

“Probably.”

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[utilitycaster]

I agree what the cast says does not hold as much weight as what happens on stream. I think this is why I get frustrated by the 'Orym is to blame for Laudna killing Bor'dor' debates, using things Liam and/or Marisha have said on 4-sided dive that contradict the actual scene, where Marisha states Laudna barely notices Orym and Ashton, and *nothing* will stop her from doing what she wants to do. At worst, it's inaction. Have interviews and things like that always held so much weight in fandom?

I am absolutely the wrong person to ask here; I was not super in fandom when I was younger. I am going to, as I am wont to do, make some educated guesses but please take with a grain of salt.

I think there's a few things going on. A lot of people have told me that Glee was the first fandom they personally recall where it became about winning more than like, having fun and sharing ideas, and I wouldn't be surprised if that is at least an influence. (The idea that two ships that do not conflict and indeed have incompatible sexualities are in some kind of deathly serious competition is truly so baffling to me that I have to chalk up that particular bit of, if I may use a yiddishism here, mishegos, to Glee for sure.)

I also think that there was a time and there are shows where interviews did (or do) carry more weight, namely, those with executive meddling, or loss of creative control, or, notably, queer ships until quite recently. I have a lot of friends in the Star Trek fandom even though I'm not knowledgeable at all and from what I am given to understand, there's been a few ships squashed or delayed by executive whim or homophobia that the actors would pretty openly and consistently confirm at conventions. (The ones I know are Riker and Troi; and Garak and Bashir; but I have only hazy recollections of TNG and know NOTHING of DS9 so this is second-hand). I've talked about this before, but Word of God used to carry more weight for me when you simply couldn't have same gender romances on network TV or most mainstream film without risking your career. Now? You're a coward and a panderer.

Anyway I think with actual play specifically, which is improvised (ie, intent can shift dramatically and unexpectedly) and which has a lot of talkback shows and also a disproportionately huge amount of content people get in the habit of cherrypicking, and in extreme cases this turns into cherrypicking themselves straight out of the actual narrative and into microexpressions and OOC interviews and side conversations from three years ago.

I also, and I am too tired and too many drinks in (two drinks in, to be clear) to articulate this tonight, find that actual play in particular has amassed a certain fandom that I think was attracted to things I like and support (queer characters, women/queer people/POC creating and driving their own characters, independent creator-owned productions, improvised and therefore at times really unique stories, not needing to have streaming services in some cases) but also doesn't actually like Actual Play as a medium (see: every single D20 fandom meltdown low-key boils down to "I have zero genre awareness of both whatever is going on narratively and also I high-key loathe D&D as a means of storytelling and particularly the existence of violence in narrative, yet I am watching the Violent Narrative D&D show, so dance or me, my puppets, wait why aren't you dancing.") So I think you get a lot of people who are just making dumb fucking arguments because they decide what they believe and then poorly reverse engineer the support instead of doing things in the proper order and I think the people claiming Orym is responsible for Bor'Dor's death are in that category and we should stop treating them as people who are adding anything of worth to the conversation.

[mythicamagic]

Skin Hunger: a Xiaolumi oneshot

Summary: When immortals fall in love with each other, they have all the time in the world to explore their relationship; but first comes the insecurities.

Totally inspired by this - gorgeous fanart

--------

Warning: some angst. No smut despite the nudity.

Xiao had witnessed enough mortal dreams to somewhat understand their desires, no matter what shape they took. Mora, fame, greed…

This was no different when it came to pleasures of the flesh. Two mortal lovers alone, and naked as they were now- would probably rush to embrace and fornicate.

Things were never that simple when it came to himself and Lumine. He should've known by now not to judge her by human standards.

They'd been caught together in the middle of a downpour near Guili Plains. Lumine had grabbed his hand, making a mad dash through the pelting rain toward an inn in the distance.

He'd followed without a word, unable to remind her of his teleportation abilities when she squealed and laughed so elatedly. 

They'd been received with a warm welcome by the innkeeper and provided with a fresh set of clothes each. Unfortunately, there was only a single room left available and no catering service since it was so late at night- but Lumine had accepted it without a second thought. 

He could see her profile now, hidden behind a partition screen in their bedroom. The warm orange glow of the lamps backlit her silhouette as her back arched. She stripped out of her soaked dress with a soft sigh.

Xiao fell still. His heartbeat stumbled. The rain was a gentle, tinkling patter in his ears, like playful fingers drumming on the roof tiles. 

Distant thunder boomed, signalling a storm's steady approach.

A good lover would have joined her by now. Lumine would be receptive. She wasn’t stupid: the show was meant to entice him. 

Xiao remained where he was. Pale, damp skin gleamed in the moonlight as he shifted his weight. His soaked clothes lay in a heap at his feet. He should change now. The innkeeper was nice enough to provide a Changshan. Their kindness should not be squandered.

'You are a coward.’

'The little Adeptus is too frightened to touch his woman. Scared you'll cover her in your filth?'

'Heh- should set her free already. You're a burden to her and everyone who knows of your pathetic existence. Disgusting. Weak.'

'She claims to love you but she knows nothing. Poor girl. Remember the time you ripped open a girl with blonde hair just like her? Those soft locks fell through your fingers so sweetly-'

Old memories assaulted Xiao's mind. He hissed out a breath, bowing his head and gnashing sharpening teeth together. He tried to focus on something else. Block out the karmic influences with good memories; the feast among friends at Liyue Harbour, lively conversations, Lumine's smile.

All of it paled to the tidal wave of loathing that swept through him. Lumine's enticing silhouette looked so far away right then. The cosy room way as well have stretched for miles.

Xiao looked down at his hands, sweat beading on his brow. He so rarely took his gloves off. Callouses and scars stared back at him, old and new. He'd dug those hands into skulls and stomachs once upon a time- ripped dreams and souls asunder in equal measure. Weapons were twirled through those fingers before they'd plunged into hide or bone. He'd clawed into blood-streaked snow just to shove it into his mouth and eat something. Anything. His former master had purposely starved him so that even snow felt like a treat.

Xiao shook his head, trying to calm his breathing. That was a long time ago now. 

'Yet it never stops running through your mind. There's more to consider too. You've waded waist-deep through the remains of Gods. You will never be clean.'

'You would inflict all that you are onto her? Infect her with your disease?”

“The selfish Yaksha who should be dead commits more sins, still. Your greed knows no bounds.'

The cool air settling on his nude form began to feel sickening. How could he ever think to touch another with a body as disgusting as his? He wasn’t even human. He was-

"Xiao."

A presence drew near. Xiao felt rather than saw how the air shifted. He sensed hands rising. Hands usually meant striking and clawing. Touch was for violence.

He sucked in a sharp breath, flinching as fingers lightly touched his collarbone. They brushed against the necklace around his neck that suddenly felt so very heavy. 

Xiao pried his eyes open, only to meet glimmering gold.

Lumine was there, completely bare and standing in the darkness with him. Her eyes held him captive in the gloom. Twin pools of warmth beckoned with all the welcome reprieve of a hearth offering sanctuary from the storm. 

"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?" She hummed, tilting her head with a smile. 

She always did say the most unfathomable things. Of course they hadn't. Only the foolish would call a bad omen beautiful. 

The beads clinked in her hands as she lifted them overhead- 

And everything in him held its breath. Xiao tensed up as the necklace was removed. He felt lost without it. Fumbling as if blind. He needed the necklace to aid him with exercising evil spirits. 

But that kind touch returned quickly. First at his shoulder, giving a squeeze that grounded him. The second is a light drag up his spine, settling beneath his shoulder blade. 

She knew. Of course she knew what heavy thoughts were holding him under. Perhaps that was why Lumine pressed herself against him of her own accord. 

Her kiss shocked him completely awake to the world of the living. Kind, soft lips ghosted along his neck in a gentle trail. Their chests met snugly, stomachs bumping. 

Xiao was wrapping his arms around her before he could even realize. It felt bizarre to be so close and vunerable. Strange on a whole other level. 

But it was also right and warm and tender. Lumine wrapped her arms around his neck in turn, stroking his damp, feathery hair. 

"It's alright now," she murmured. "You're alright. Whatever you were thinking about…you know it's not true. I’m here.”

His heart dithered and fluttered like a nervous bird. He expected to feel caged. Trapped. There is no such emotion to be found inside Lumine's arms. Xiao buried his face in the juncture between her shoulder and neck, inhaling. She smelled like petrichor and carried the scent of foreign flowers. He clutched her tighter if possible.

"Mn," his body wilted with the force of his sigh. "I know."

Lumine fell silent for a while, just holding him. Occasionally he felt kisses press to his neck, ear or shoulder- but it wasn’t a sign to hurry up and return her affection. The Traveller was always patient. Whatever she gave; she did so freely, without expectation he do the same. That was why their initial friendship had felt so…comfortable. 

No one had ever wanted to be around Xiao without demanding something of him. For some reason, however, she’d kept reaching out- an enigmatic smile on her face. Initially, he’d thought her strange, then slightly bossy, before finally settling on mysterious the second she’d told him stories of her past; how she’d journeyed beyond distant stars and witnessing their end. As an enigma- she only grew all the more perplexing when asking him to date her all those months ago.

His hands finally moved, sliding down Lumine’s back and running over her shoulder blades contemplatively. 

"That tickles," she giggled softly. Hot breath fanned over his ear, eliciting a shudder. "What's wrong? Are you looking for something?"

Xiao closed his eyes. She really had no idea of the effect she had on him. Was he allowed to be this happy? This content? It felt effortless with her, like breathing. Surely that wasn’t right. Nothing was ever this easy. "You said you had wings once. I was just wondering if you had any scarring…I'm sorry if that was presumptuous of me. "

"Don't be silly. And you don't need to be so formal, Xiao. Especially not when we're holding each other like this." A laugh was in her voice. It livened his heart to hear it. 

"The wings were more like…crystalflies. They were thin and shimmered like gossamer. You won't find any lost remnants of them on my back but I miss them all the same."

This gave him pause. Lumine often gently encouraged him in many ways, especially with verbally expressing his desires. However, she herself rarely took her own advice. "You miss flying…"

"Yes,” she murmured, a rare moment of visible melancholy passing over her face- but her expression shuttered as she quickly moved on. “How about you? As an illuminated beast- and a bird at that- you must have wings. Pretty ones, I’d wager."

He scoffed. "Don't speak of these matters so simply. Adepti are not like regular birds."

Lumine bobbed her head seriously. "True. You're much better.”

"I didn’t mean it like- gn…" he trailed off, clenching his jaw as she pressed a smile against his neck. Damn her. His face grew warm. In retribution for her little tease, he tightened one arm around her waist and teased the curve of her ear with a much needed nibble- thrilled by her ensuing yelp. 

The rain pelting the rooftop above their heads and crawling rumble of thunder felt muted in comparison to Lumine’s little noises. All he could see and feel was her, but he knew she’d done that on purpose. All of this; her embrace, kisses and conversation- were designed to put his mind elsewhere. Away from the smell of copper on snow.

Lithe fingers combed through his hair again as if on cue.

"Are you feeling okay now?"

"Yes," he rasped out quietly. "I always do, with you. It might take time, but eventually…when I feel you or hear your voice, it has a calming effect. To this day, I do not understand why."

She gave a soft laugh at that. “You’ll find the answer, one day.”

“Lumine.”

Xiao pulled away, gazing quietly at the woman in his arms. In truth, she could have almost anyone she wanted. The Traveller was not in want of suitors. Many offered to help her with commissions but she always took him along instead. 

He lifted a hand and ghosted his thumb across her lip once, before pressing down a little firmer and swiping it back, watching with fascination how she parted her mouth. Her lips looked so glossy under his touch, soft and yielding. Her cheeks grew red as they sometimes did in his presence. 

“I told you before that I was unfamiliar with the human concept of dating, or even taking a lover. As I am now…does it not frustrate you?”

Lumine sobered. She smiled and took his hand, shifting the palm to cradle her cheek as she leaned into it. “No. It never will. You’re worth the wait, Xiao- and we have more than enough time. Don’t rush things just because you think it would make me happy, that’s just a surefire way to make me sad,” she gave a wan smile, pressing kisses to his fingers. “You always put everyone else first, at the cost of yourself.”

Funny, he saw her the exact same way. 

Xiao fell into a contemplative silence, busying himself with stroking the length of her spine and revelling in her warm body pressed up against his. Lumine’s heartbeat thundered strong and fast. 

Perhaps the reality of their shared nudity had finally caught up to her. That heartbeat thudded a little quicker- before she pulled away a little in his arms. “Ah, now that I think about it- the room is getting pretty chilly. Let me grab a blanket for us-”

“Hold still a moment.”

Lumine quietly gasped as air rushed past her cheek. Something shot out around her, arching high overhead. Twin masses of dark feathers streaked with teal snapped open like regal fans, scooping her closer and threatening it sweep her feet out from under her. 

Proof of many hard-won battles lay bare on his body, but it was also a canvas of past sins. This was most prevalent on Xiao’s wings. What had once arched upward with fine pride and full plumage now looked bedraggled. To even the most untrained eye, one could correctly surmise they’d been torn once upon a time and then struggled to heal. 

Lumine beheld them with awe. She didn’t move from his embrace again, but reached out to stroke the cocoon of tattered feathers. 

“Amazing,” escaped her lips. “I knew they’d be pretty.”

His stomach twisted. He could bear her compliments for most things, but not for this. He hadn’t unfolded his wings in what felt like a millennia.

“I only brought them out because you seemed cold. It was not for praise,” he muttered. 

“That’s okay, they’re still worthy of it,” Lumine reached out, splaying her hands against the primaries and smoothing her touch down to the secondaries. Despite their bedraggled appearance, she seemed unfazed. “Do you not like them?”

His brows pulled down, complicated emotions flitting through his eyes even as his face remained largely passive. “You see the bright colour of my tattoo?” he nodded to his arm, waiting for her attention to return to him. “That was the original hue of my feathers,” Xiao uttered in a tight voice, avoiding her gaze. “So it was with my hair as well.”

Karma and other less-than-pleasant effects had seeped into him. His hair could pass for natural, but there was no hiding the effect of his deep-rooted filth when it came to his wings. If Xiao morphed forms completely and returned to his original state as a crane, the reflection he’d behold in the water would likely be a stranger.

Something bumped his lips once- and then again, longer. He blinked, becoming still as he focused on Lumine’s kiss. Before he could think to respond, she pulled away. 

"I didn't know you before, so I can only go off what I know,” Lumine lay a hand over his tattoo, gazing into his eyes meaningfully as she gave it a squeeze. “I love how you look now- even if you've changed."

Xiao stared. His breath caught in the back of his throat. He didn't know what to say to that. His eyes stung- throat becoming tight. Her unending acceptance of him, no matter the flaws or danger, was hard to grasp sometimes. He'd be thinking about her words for weeks after she'd spoken them.

He wanted to make her as happy as she made him- but lacked the knowledge of how to.

The only thing he could think of was to replicate her kindness. 

He took an unsteady breath. "I-it's the same for me."

"Hm?"

He gestured to her back, feeling heat warm his face. "With your lack of wings. I didn't know you then, so to me, you are not 'lacking' anything. "

Lumine blinked, lips pressing together as if fighting a big smile. "Hey don't steal my lines."

"Hm, too late," golden eyes glittered.

With a giggle, she sank right back into his arms, looping both arms around his neck and cuddling close. "Thank you all the same," came her muffled reply. Xiao’s teal lashes swept shut, breathing in her scent once more and curling his fingers into her hair. He pressed his forehead against the locks with all the reverence of a worshipper. For his kind; the act would be akin to the deepest form of affection, but she likely didn’t know that and he wouldn’t tell her- so as ever, his feelings remained unspoken.

At her suggestion, they finally moved to the bed and curled around one another for warmth. Cocooned in a nest of dark teal feathers and buttery blond hair, whispered immortal sentiments were exchanged, stories told and kisses traded- until Teyvats distant sun crested the hills once more.

End

[ddagent]

27

"Good afternoon. I have an appointment at five o'clock?"

Aziraphale Fell smiled at the lovely receptionist in the dentist, who handed him a stack of paperwork after he politely reminded her - yet again - that he did not have an email address, had no desire to have an email address, and he had no issue filling in paperwork. She handed him a biro with a chewed end and sent him upstairs to await Doctor Service.

The waiting room at the Whickber Dental Practice was small: there were six seats, all told, and a sprawling figure with black snakeskin boots was taking up half of them. Upon spotting the figure, the hand clutching the clipboard fell. "You."

A pair of sunglasses slipped downwards and an easy smile bloomed on the other man's face. "Angel. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were stalking me."

"Hardly. And I have a name, you know. It's not Angel."

The other man merely snorted and went back to perusing an out-of-date copy of Gardner's Weekly. Aziraphale took one of the empty seats opposite, nose wrinkling at the pen, and began filling out the forms required before his appointment. More than once, his gaze drifted to the dreadful man opposite him. They had first met in line at the coffee shop - where this awful man had pushed past Aziraphale in the queue. Next had been the pharmacy - where Aziraphale had let everyone bar him cut in front. Then the post office. The Dirty Donkey. Even waiting for a table at the new restaurant Aziraphale had been dying to try.

It was becoming rather ridiculous. Yet, Aziraphale had no desire whatsoever to get to know this man that fate kept throwing in his path. Aziraphale's gaze darted in his direction, following the long line of his legs. Even if he was bloody gorgeous.

Aziraphale quickly busied himself. He had forms to fill out. His brushing habits were excellent: twice a day, electric toothbrush, regular flossing. He began to falter, however, when he came to the questions on units of alcohol and sweet treats per day.

"You can lie, you know. They won't know." Aziraphale glanced up from his form. The man was watching him intently. "It's what I do."

"But they will. Know, I mean. They can tell from my teeth." Aziraphale, shame crawling over him, put down the accurate units. Ish. "For the best."

The man hummed. "I 'spose. But we both know that whatever advice they give you, you'll be back to ignoring it before lunchtime. Maybe at a charming bistro or a lovely patisserie."

Aziraphale flushed. He did not care for this man's judgement - especially from a man who had a beaten packet of cigarettes in his front pocket and a dusty mouth guard case that looked like it hadn't been opened since the 90s. But, before he could be drawn into yet another argument about social decorum, Doctor Sandwich's dental assistant appeared.

"Anthony Crowley?"

The man raised his hand. "That's me." He stood from the chair, hips swaying as he followed the assistant. Before he climbed the short flight of stairs to the dental suite, he stared at Aziraphale. "A pleasure, as always, Angel. Where will we meet next?"

"Nowhere, if there is a God."

The man, Crowley, threw his head back and laughed. He then offered Aziraphale a wink and went to his appointment. Aziraphale just sat, clipboard firmly clutched in his hands, and tried to focus on the fact that he loathed this man - and not that the acrobatics his stomach was making at the memory of the way Crowley had stared at him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if they were to run into each other again. Maybe.

Give me a number - that’s how many seconds I’ll spend thinking of an Aziraphale/Crowley AU to write for you in 200 words or more.

[teamdilf]

I've posted a bit of smutty Solavellan literature today. 👀

Solas eats Iris out while she sits on her throne. That’s it, that’s the fic.

“You have a throne.”

More than one, and inquisition staff change out the throne depending on who their most prominent guests are, and right now it’s Orlesian-themed, the spread wings at the top of it covered in gold leaf; symbolic of everything she hates about the richest of this world and she wishes she could drag it into the centre of the Great Hall and blow it to dust.

“A stupid one,” she mutters.

“One appropriate for you to be worshipped upon,” Solas says and she stares at him, because he loathes the idea that she’s the sort of demi-god that she’s been presented publicly as - and so does she. His grin turns mischievous. “A very specific form of worship, to be more precise.”

“Are you offering to fuck me on the throne in the Great Hall?” she asks; the idea making her ache, washing away the vestiges of frustration remaining in her hot-headed mind.

“No. I am offering to prostrate myself at your feet, slip under your skirt and volunteer my mouth and tongue to service you. For the sake of this inquisition, of course.”