#& when it jumps the earth shakes haha

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hi I was the one who requested the Furina-like reader and i wanted to clear up that:

Alastor and Vox are still archenemies they just have something new to fight over (basically just like petty divorced exes fighting over custody)

Since I just realized that sinners can't have kids in hell i'll make that reader was a teenager who died young

Also I'm so sorry my req was alot for you I tend to get away with asks sometimes 😭

Haha! All good, hun! Tbh. I really do like this idea. They are like petty divorced exes most of the time and now, they’ll be petty divorced sour exes that love their precious daughter too much to let one another become favourite parent— only chose female since Furina’s female, sorry!

Alastor and Vox- Climbing the Ladder

The Overlord of Technology and the Overlord of Radio are genuine archenemies, rivals, they cannot stand one another and their mutual hatred even extends to their own personal relationships… but their love is targeted to the same object or person, this situation inbetween them gets all the more dangerous

You, a cute hydro-sea animal-styled young teenage sinner, didn’t just catch the fatherly love of just Alastor but of Vox as well… somehow and now. They begin fighting on sight and arguing and berating one another nonstop to try knock each other down so you don’t like one over the other

Yes. Alastor and Vox openly tug on you and argue loudly but eventually, Charlie makes them agree on a… ‘co-parenting’ deal. Alastor has you in the Hotel one week then Vox has you in the Vees Tower the next week. They are basically like fathers with joint custody and they hate it

Because they hate each other far too much to be civil and everytime they have to meet up to share you sound. Both are holding back the desire to murder each other and devoid all attention onto you. Otherwise, the tension inbetween them is so thick, you can cut it with a knife

Both of them are the type of surrogate father to shower and pamper their daughter so she’ll like them over the other parent. Vox showers you in gifts and gives you specific technological devices so he can keep his eyes on you, whilst Alastor showers you in affection and keeps your attention on him with all his cool tricks and nicknacks

Alastor tries to make you dislike technology but Vox tries to make you rely on technology, and their contrasting efforts to have you love them like your father makes their already tense relationship even worse

Both Alastor and Vox can recognise your love for the theatre so Alastor uses his own theatre speciality to teach you to dance and sing and perform and Vox arranges a whole drama class for you. Both attend any big drama performances you happen to join in and whilst Vox is recording it to treasure, Alastor can’t take his eyes off his precious babygirl

Will these two ever not fight with each other? The only time they willingly get along is when you’re ever threatened or being harassed or bullied or anything. Then, they push aside their differences and their deep disdain for each other to protect you and coddle you

Alastor and Vox do not like the whole ‘co-parenting arrangement’ they agreed on. They don’t want to share you at all, they both want you as their own surrogate daughter. Vox is pissed since he is worried he may seem like the lesser father and Alastor is annoyed that he is trying to take his daughter away

Your kind, laid-back, down-to-earth, chill girl demeanour is kinda hard to get around for both Overlords. Alastor is dapper, sophisticated whilst Vox is a bit prickly and arrogant. Neither are good with handling you do both are equally supportive and listen to you

Alastor and Vox are both equally protective over you. You’re so selfless and self-sacrificing for your friends that you’re willing to jump into danger for them. Luckily, you have two very powerful Overlords as your backups and willing to tear apart your enemies to make sure you’re safe

Your dads, Alastor and Vox are both working to shake out your very assuming and judgmental mannerisms. Those are unfitting for a lady like you. Alastor teaches you to be a prim proper lady and Vox teaches you to be a bad bitch of high class

At the end of the day though, both of them love like you’re their daughter so they’ll always consider you the most and they’ll do anything for you, even try their best to get along and tolerate one another. If it means you’ll be happy and you’ll get to live your afterlife, that’s all that matters

“My dear. As much as I love you, this flamboyance and imprudence is below you. You’re a beautiful lady of the highest class, you must show that. Come with me, may we go shopping together, a day out, princess”

“Leitora, I get it! The bravado and dramatic flare is definitely unique but I wish for you to drop now. You’re becoming bratty and no daughter of mine is a diva, I’ll show you what I mean. Let’s go for a walk around the tower, honeypot”

[goldenhourwriter]

•✮🕷️𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐤𝐢𝐝🕷️✮•

part one (you are here) • part two •

⋆pairing: miguel o’hara x wife!reader

⋆warning(s): i guess just fighting and some cursing. and threatening to bite someone lol. also i got translations from spanish dict, if i did something wrong, please correct me. i tried to use the right definitions/context to use those definitions in! also pregnancy.

⋆a/n: this was so fun to write! requests are open, and i am new to this blog, so hang on while i get this all figured out. requests are open, and this will be a mini series i am continuing!!

It’s not usually this quiet at the Spider Society.

It’s nice.

I walk around, humming softly to myself as I munch on a banana, a craving I usually get. I let my hand rest on my slightly swollen belly, my suit especially made to let it stretch and give the baby some room.

Yeah, ever heard of a pregnant Spider-Woman?

It happened a couple of months ago, as married couples tend to let happen. It’s twins, actually. One boy and one girl, but, my husband doesn’t know yet. Doesn’t want to know. I called the doctor anyways, and even though he threw a hissy fit that could rival a toddler, he relented and said it was fine.

And, it was kind of nice being alone. A lot of the spider-people tend to do things for me, think I’m incapable of doing things now because I’m pregnant. Even the ridiculous Spider-Man T-Rex gave me a ride through the halls. I snort at the thought, gaining some weird looks.

Obviously, I didn’t refuse. Who would pass up a ride on a freaking dinosaur?

My few 30 minutes of bliss, however, was interrupted by the beeping on my watch. I tap on it and smile when I see Lyla. She gives a wave.

“Hey, big wifey,” she teases, pushing up her pink, heart-shaped glasses. I roll my eyes. Everyone knows I hate that name. It doesn’t make me feel fat, it just makes me very aware of the two babies living inside of me, and how very uncomfortable life can really get.

“Hey, algorithm girl, what’s up?” I shoot back with sarcasm. I am met with satisfaction as she gives me a dead-pan look.

“Haha, very funny, love that,” she says sarcastically. “Your husband is struggling with an anomaly. Earth-65, some kind of Renaissance bird-man.”

I giggle at the thought. I can imagine his annoyance. “Gotcha, and did he actually call for back up?” I ask, but i already know the answer. I take another bite of my banana, shifting my weight onto my right leg. I can never stand still for too long, luckily, being a super hero can keep me moving. Keeps the babies satisfied.

She snorts at me, like i was making some hilarious, un-heard of joke. I relent, sighing and preparing my bracelet to go to the universe she said he was in.

“Alright, alright. How long do you think until he actually asks?”

“I’d give you about two minutes. He’s getting really thrown around with this one. And there’s another spider person, trying to ask him too many questions.”

My eyes perk back up to the hologram when she mentions this. “I haven’t heard of a recruit from Earth-65, is she new?” I ponder out loud. I cock my head to the side, adjusting my mask. Well, half mask. It really only covers my eyes. Lyla nods. “Yup, she’s a new one. She’s a nice kid, too.”

I smile.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

Lyla logs off and I sigh, patting my baby bump. “Alright, you guys,” I whisper to my belly. I stick out my hand and the portal opens, and I jump in. I shout with joy, flying through the portal, and as I practically fall to the other end, my hair whips around.

I fall on the other end, and I groan as my hair blocks my vision. I hear grunting, crushing, wings flapping, and snappy remarks being thrown about, but I can’t see anything. I flip my hair over my head, shaking it out.

“I need a hair tie on these things,” I mumble to myself.

I look over, and I see a feminine-looking spider-hero staring at me. I give her a small wave. Her eyes are wide, I can tell. I examine her suit, which seems like it holds up pretty well. It has hood, which is new to me, and she’s wearing…are those ballet flats? I smile

“Hey, babes! You look cute!” I compliment to the get up.

She waves back again, and she looks down at my stomach. “Are you….?” She trails off. I look down, and put a hand on my hip. “Yep, I am. It’s twins, but don’t tell my husband the sexes yet. He wants to wait.” She nods, but seems to remember that she doesn’t know just who my husband is. She takes a step towards me.

“Who are you married to? Are there even more people like us?” I nod.

“My husband’s right….” I don’t even flinch as he gets thrown into the wall right in front of me, and I smile. “There.”

He groans as he slips to get up, his mask eyes squinting at me. I squint my eyes right back.

“Don’t give me that look. I’m carrying your children,” I scold. He gestured to the giant creature that hurls towards us. “I need help here!” He shouts at me. Lyla puts up on my shoulder, and we both cross our arms. He sighs, looking down.

“Please, Y/N? Sabes que no me gusta mendigar,(You know I don’t enjoy begging),“ He pleads quietly.

Vulture screeches at us. “Love truly makes me sick,” he narrates out loud, and he reaches his talons out for me. I stuck out my wrists and web up one wing, so he goes sideways, just barely missing me. He breaks free, but I web up behind him again.

“Your attitude makes me sick!” I shout at him. “You seem like the Beethoven of your area, jerky, cold, and not the greatest people-person!” I struggle to speak as I try to web him up again, but it doesn’t work. He barrels towards me, and grabs me in his talons. I hear Miguel growl and leap off the ground, landing on his back. He tugs on the man’s feathers, making him spin around to try and find him. I take the opportunity to web myself away from his grasp, kicking him away as I do so.

“Is this guy made of paper?” I ask, rubbing my hands together as I take a moment to actually register what just happened. Miguel grunts, and yells as he speaks to me from the bottom of the building. “Honey, I love your voice, but I really need you to use your actions right now!”

I spot a few witnesses trapped behind some rubble, so I shoot off the side of the wall to swoop them up. They scream, clutching onto me, and I drop them off right by a big police officer. He gawks at me, and I give him salute as Miguel webs me up again. I twist up, getting wrapped in his webbing, and I break free using a kick, hitting Vulture square in the jaw with my foot. He grunts in pain, squeezing his eyes shut, and Miguel uses this moment to try and guide him down, so he won’t escape.

I land right next to, what’s her name? I’ll learn it soon enough. I land right next to the teen as she stares at me. I smirk at her.

“What, never seen two married spiders?”

She swallows. “Can you adopt me?”

“What?”

“What? Nothing! Nothing!”

Miguel groans, and I can tell he’s growing tired. “¡Por Dios! ¿Puedes dejar de hablar por un momento? (Oh, my God. Can you stop talking for a moment?)” He calls out to me. I let out a heavy sigh, putting my hands on my knees. “I’m sorry, but your babies are making it hard to move right now!” I shout at him. Gwen webs away from me, and Miguel lands right next to me again. “Last time I checked, it took two people to make those two babies,” he grumbles. We take a moment and watch as Gwen tries to take down Vulture by herself.

I look at Miguel, and raise my eyebrows. “Did she call ya ‘Dark Garfield?’” I ask. He groans, and I can tell hair eyes shut as his head falls forward. “Yes.”

I giggle. “I like her. Maybe we can recruit-“ “No. No, we can’t, and you know why.” My somewhat playful attitude disappears with a frown, and I nod in compliance. He grabs my waist and he swings us up, and then we fall onto the Vulture back again. I scream through gritted teeth as I try to hold him down on the ground, but he flings me off, a sudden, new found strength in him.

“What the hell?” I curse. “Not cool, man!”

“This ends now,” he says to me, and he springs upward. I curse under my breath again, but it seems Miguel is on top of it. Literally.

“If he gets out, this whole universe will collapse!” He shouts, mainly at Gwen. I know the risks involved, having to save almost every universe from them every day. I shoot my wrist out, but I groan. I hit my web shooters, but nothing comes out. “Fuck-Miguel! I’m out!” I try to jump from floor to floor, but I quickly get nauseous while doing that. I look down at my stomach again, poking it. “So web slinging is fine but jumping is what doesn’t please you guys?” I ask the unborn babies. I get a mere kick in return. “I know that was the girl. That was way too sassy,” I grumble to myself.

Spider-Girl lands right beside me, and she looks at my husband and he battles Vulture. They both crash right through the glass ceiling, and we shield ourselves from the shards that could possibly cut us. She looks at me.

“What is he gonna do?” She asks. Miguel takes the Vulture’s face in his hands, and opens his mouth, wide, baring his fangs and giving a loud roar. “Oh snap,” whispers under his breath. But, he’s cut short, when a helicopter shines a light on him. He yells at the helicopter, his mask coming up again to cover his face.

“I’m a good guy! I’m here to help!” He desperately explains. My spider senses then go off, and I scream up to Miguel.

“Miguel! Watch-!“

I’m too late. Vulture throws two weapons at the helicopter, and then the helicopter starts to spin, going down, and fast.

“Shit.” All three of us say in unison.

I look to the kid, and she’s already looking at me. I nod towards her, and she returns the gesture, and we both know what that means. She launches off the floor, and she begins to web a net. I take a deep breath. “Alright, babies, don’t make me throw up,” I say sternly to my unborn babies.

I leap off the ground, and I fly through the middle of the helicopter, grabbing the two pilots and landing on the fourth floor of the building. I grunt as I roll on the ground with them, and we writhe in pain.

I turn to the both of them, checking on them, and I run to the edge, well, the mess that made the edge. I look down, and the teenage girl is flying through the air, webbing up a net. And just as the helicopter is about to crash, she flies right underneath it, just barely getting nipped by the chopper.

She lands, breathing heavily.

“Wow,” I whisper. Miguel hops a bit in front of me, landing on some rubble.

“I was gonna do that,” he says quietly to himself. I can tell he’s thinking her, thinking about her hard. Miguel and I share a glance at her, and she nods. She turns and hops down from the huge rock, and goes back towards the wall, out of sight. I turn and see the two pilots staring at me. I smile.

“Yeah, I know, there’s lots of freaky spider people, that was my reaction too. Cmon, let’s get you two a medic.” I reach down and offer my hand to them, which they take, one at a time. I help them to the big opening in the building where the door used to be, and I hand them over to some officers.

I sigh, turning around to find my husband surveying the area.

I walk up to him, putting a hand on his back, feeling his tense and rigid muscles, alert and still in attack mode. He seems to relax a little at my touch, and he lets his mask down. I grin, amusement

“Your hair is all messed up.” “Can you and I have one good moment after a battle where you don’t make fun of my hair?” “Absolutely not.”

He lets out a low growl, rolling his eyes. I walk a little in front of him, and stare at the place where the teen escaped to, hearing some grunting from there. No doubt she’s recovering on her own. My hand comes to rest on my stomach, my thumb running over the bump. I turn back to Miguel, my mouth open to speak, but he beats me to it.

“I said no,” he rejects me as he leans down to pick up some broken machinery. He scoffs at some poor excuse for art. “I’m starting to think Vulture did everyone a favor by destroying this place, this art sucks-“

“Miguel O'Hara, no cambies de tema,” I say sternly. He lets out a sigh. Spanish isn’t even my main language, so when I speak it, he knows I’m not messing around. He spins around, holding a figurine of a balloon dog in his hand. I would find it comedic, a big guy like him holding a small thing like that, but not when he’s trying to avoid my questions.

“You know we can use her. I’ve never seen anything like her, and she even beat you to one of your moves. You have to agree with me on this!” I gesture out in front of me, as if the conversation is laid out in front of us. Miguel sighs, walking up to me with his hands on his hips. His expression is hard, but his eyes give it away. He’s considering it, it helps if I’ve spent about a couple years with him now.

He brings his hand to my waist and another to my hair, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead.

“Te amo demasiado a veces,” he mumbles into my hair.

Okay, that gives me absolutely nothing.

His hand travel down to my stomach, and his two very large hands splay over my tummy. His lips quirk up a bit as one of them kicks against my skin. “Did you do okay today?” He asks quietly, referring to my very pregnant self. I nod, but it doesn’t seem to reassure him.

Vulture struggles next to us, but we just give him an annoyed look. “I’m done with your attitude!” Miguel tells him, pointing at him. He sighs, turning back to me, grabbing my waist and pulling me impossibly closer, so we’re basically sharing the same breathe. My stomach flutters. Even after marrying him, he really can have the same affect on me from when I was a new recruit.

“You know you can always opt out whenever, I can call for other backup,” he says quietly. He’s trying to spare my feelings, not letting others hear so I won’t get embarrassed. I’m never embarrassed, it’s life, I got pregnant, but I appreciate the sentiment. I lean up and kiss his nose.

“I know, thank you, but really, I’m fine.” I stick a hand up as he begins to protest. “At 7 months, I will take maternity leave. I’ll rest and just be the desk person, okay?” I ask. He debates it for a moment, and lets out a grunt and nods. We stay in our somewhat embrace for a bit, when we hear a gun shot. My head whips to where Spider-Woman went and hid, and I look at Miguel.

His mask forms again, and he kicks Vulture, telling him to be still as he picks him up. Miguel picks me up with his other arm and swings to the opening as we fall in.

“Dad, please!” She begs the cop standing across from her. Miguel shoots a containment pod at him, and she runs towards him. I grab her by the shoulders, trying to use my softest voice.

“Hey, hey, kid. Hey, it’s okay, we’re here, we got you,” I say quietly to her. She’s crying as she clutches onto my arm, staring at her dad. Miguel opens a portal, and I give the kid one more pat and walk over to him.

“What are we gonna do?” I whisper to him. He looks at me. “What do you mean?”

I roll my eyes.

“We can’t just leave her here!” I get a bit louder, but he shushes me, putting a finger up. My jaw drops.

“You did not just shush me,” I growl.

“Oh, I think I did.”

“Oh, I know you didn’t-!”

Miguel and I bicker back and forth, and at some point, Vulture voluntarily hops into the portal, all tied up, not wishing to stick around. I stick my finger up as I try to argue with him, my hand coming to my hip, and he towers over me, but that never took away my edge.

Then, some sniffling gets us to shut up.

The kid looks at us, her eyes watery and wide. She looks like what she is…a teenager who’s lost and alone. She opens her mouth to speak. “I-I don’t know what to do.”

I look slowly at Miguel, and he lets his head hang forward.

“Yeah, well….”

I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Join the club.”

🕷️ 💍

[misctf]

Movie Night

“Dude, look at this!” Matt looked up from his unpacking and walked over to where Josh was sitting, “I guess the old tenants forgot this gem.” Josh chuckled holding up an old DVD.

Matt grabbed is from his buddy. While there was no title on the case, the picture of two skinny blond men making out in a bedroom certainly caught his attention. Matt raised an eyebrow.

“Certainly interesting. Not sure if this is what they meant by fully furnished” He chuckled, “Guess they forgot it.” Not a huge deal- given that the rent was so low and it was within walking distance to their classes, a few scandalous items were acceptable. Yet Matt stared at the DVD case- at the two men passionately making out. He didn’t have any issues with gay people, but there was something about this DVD. The two men were certainly handsome, the one hairless and with a pretty impressive ass, while the other was just a tad more muscular and dominant looking.

“Earth to Matt, you good there bud?” Josh chuckled.

Matt blushed and looked up at his friend, “Uh yeah, sorry haha.” He laughed awkwardly, somewhat confused by his thoughts. Since when did he care about how good a man's ass looked? He focused on his friend, “We should probably put it back where we found it.” He said, his voice dropping off towards the end of his sentence. Matt couldn’t help but appreciate just how well Josh’s gray shirt hugged his body. Something about it just captured his friend’s muscular physique so well, and while he continued to stare, he felt a heat rising up within him.

“Hey you okay dude?” Josh asked, looking more concerned, “Lemme just take this from ya.” He chuckled awkwardly, grabbing the DVD case from his friend.  Matt looked confused for a moment before shaking his head, “Feeling better now? Didn’t think you’d get all worked up over two gay guys.” Josh teased, looking down at the case.

“Yeah I don’t know, sorry man. Must’ve zoned out.” Matt took a deep breath, suddenly noticing how intensely Josh was staring at the case.

“You think we should watch it?” Josh asked, his voice somewhat distant and his eyes still staring at the case, “I mean, we have the DVD player.”

“Dude, what the hell?” Matt chuckled, “It’s probably some gay porn tape.”

“Only one way to find out!” the brunette replied with a grin, sticking the DVD in.

Matt wanted to protest, but when the DVD started playing, a strange sensation washed over him. The two of them sat on the couch, watching the film intensely. It wasn’t porn, but instead a stupid rom com of the two gay men. It was funny, it was romantic, and before either of the two realized, they had become enthralled in the plot. It was fairly predictable, at least to Matt- two soulmates unable to be together, overcoming the odds and making it. Of course with some passionate romance mixed in. But yet he couldn’t stop watching and rooting for the two main characters. And based on how Josh was similarly leaning forward, eyes focused, Matt assumed he was equally interested. But as the film was reaching its predictable conclusion, Matt felt a discomfort in his crotch.

“What the fuck?” He muttered, his erection straining against his pants. He quickly tried to adjust, which didn’t go unnoticed by Josh. Before his friend could say anything, Matt got up and turned away, “I need to go to my room.” He said quickly.

The young man rushed towards his room, wincing at the discomfort in his pants. He slammed the door and immediately stripped, his eyes widening at the site of his raging erection. Yeah the movie had some R-rated scenes, but it was all gay shit anyway. Why was he getting so horned up over some gay rom com? And when did it get so fucking hot? He threw off his shirt and stood naked in his room, taking deep breaths.

“Dude, you good?” Matt jumped and turned to face Josh, who was standing in the doorway. Yeah they had seen each other naked a few times in the locker room, but this wasn’t the same. And Matt couldn’t help but blush.

He wanted to say something, to say anything really, but the words wouldn’t leave his mouth. He wanted to tell Josh to get out and to leave him alone- but it was like those words were trapped behind a mental barrier. And much to Matt’s horror, he could see Josh eyeing his erection. The two men’s eyes met, and although they couldn’t say anything, it was clear they were both not in control of the situation.

“Josh... what is this?” Matt strained as he proudly flaunted his erect member to his best friend.

Josh couldn’t look away, “I-I don’t know... I can’t...” He took a deep breath, “It’s like the movie... when the two guys first...”

Without another word, Josh’s body moved on its own, walking over to his naked friend. And before Matt could protest, Josh kissed him, passionately on the lips. Matt’s eyes widened, before he found himself reciprocating. He felt his hand move against his friend’s toned abdomen, gripping the gray shirt that covered his body.

“Let’s get rid of this.” Matt whispered. That cheesy line... it was just like what the one character from the movie. Why was he saying this shit? And as Josh’s shirt was thrown aside, the two continued passionately making out. He could feel as his friend gripped his ass and gave it a squeeze, causing Matt to moan. And in that instant, Matt could swear that his voice sounded higher. But before he could fully register what was happening, Josh pushed him onto his bed.

“And I’ll get rid of these.” Josh grinned removing his pants, while his eyes betrayed his fear.

Matt felt himself lick his lips as he gazed upon his now naked friend. And Matt could swear that his friend’s hair had taken on a somewhat lighter hue. But before he could fully register his friend’s changes, Josh had crawled on top of his friend, his sweaty muscular body pressed closely as the two continued to make out. Against his will, he began thrusting his hips as the two grinded against one another, moaning as they did. All the while, Matt was becoming aware of something. As his hands caressed his friend’s muscular arms and back, it almost seemed like his friend was losing mass.

“Josh...” Matt forced out, “You need to stop... you’re changing...”

Josh stopped for just a second and frowned, “I’m not the only one.” He forced out, before locking lips with his friend and then slowly kissing down his friend’s neck.

During this, Matt was able to turn his head to catch a glimpse of them in the mirror. Josh was smaller now, while still muscular, he must’ve lost some height and some mass, making the man a bit smaller overall. Meanwhile, Matt watched as his black hair became lighter and lighter, until settling on a natural blond and he let out another high pitched moan as his voice settled on a higher tenor.

“Damn babe, I love it when you moan like that.” Josh grinned, running his hand along Matt’s shrinking biceps and triceps.

“Josh... please...” Matt croaked out, his breath getting caught as his entire body shrunk rapidly. Years of working out and going to the gym seemed to reverse themselves as his frame became much smaller, with only small lean muscles, mostly for showing off rather than for strength.

“Don’t worry, I know what ya like.” Josh replied, flipping them so that Matt was on top and giving his friend’s ass a squeeze.

Matt moaned, feeling as his friend played with his juicy ass and hole, the feeling beyond anything that he was used to. He looked down at Josh and watched as two nipple piercing magically appeared and a tattoo formed on his left thigh.

“Josh...” Matt moaned, turning to the mirror, his eyes widening in horror. They looked just like the two guys from the movie. And it looked like he was becoming the more submissive of the pair- the "bottom". It was like a whole new vocabulary and knowledge was filling his head, and he knew he didn't want it. He did his best and pushed himself off the bed, landing on his jiggly ass.

“Woah there babe, you good?” Josh asked looking down. To Matt’s dismay, the look of fear that had clued him into his friend still being there was gone. Instead, it was the look of that guy from the movie... the passionate, caring, and sexy stare of his more dominant boyfriend. And it made Matt shiver.

“This isn’t right, we can’t be together!” Matt breathed out, a feeling of guilt welling up inside him. And it was at that moment he realized... that was the same line from the movie. He was still acting it out.

Josh slowly got off the bed, and plopped down next to Matt. He placed a comforting hand on his cheek, and forced him to look into his eyes.

“I don’t care.” He whispered, “I love you.”

And Matt knew it was over. It was just like the movie, the same stupid lines, the same passionate romance. And he hated how predictable it was- how he knew what was going to happen next. A warm feeling welled up from within Matt, all the concern and worry about being with Josh dissipating as he stared intensely into his boyfriend’s eyes. Josh made him feel right... safe even. All he wanted to do was be with him. And with that, the two leaned in for another passionate kiss, the sensual night picking up exactly where it had left off.

The next morning, Matt woke up, curled up in the arms of his lover. He nestled closer to Josh, enjoying the warmth and comfort that it brought.

“Good morning beautiful.” Josh whispered, planting a small kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead.

Matt smiled and planted a quick kiss on Josh’s lips, before slowly pushing himself out of bed. Josh smirked, taking in the site of his naked boyfriend.

“Now that’s a sight I won’t get tired of.” Josh pushed himself out of bed and kissed Matt quickly, “Come on, we should probably get something to eat. I’m drained.” He winked.

As the two walked down to the kitchen and passed the living room, something caught Matt’s eye. He walked over to the DVD case that was tossed on the floor and picked it up, inspecting the cover. It was of two guys, in decent shape and working out at the gym together. He chuckled, they were kind of sexy, but he much preferred his smooth, toned look. Not to mention, so did Josh.  

“Better put this back.” He whispered, placing the DVD back in the cabinet, the memory of it quickly vanished from his mind. And as he walked back into the kitchen where his sexy boyfriend was making them breakfast, he couldn’t wait to see what the day would bring.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝓛𝓪𝓬𝓻𝔂𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓪 𝓞𝓵𝓸𝓻 [5]

Jungkooks intentions seem to become clear now that he involves you more and more in his day to day life.

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Violence, Gore, Size difference, sci-fi, Romance, strangers to lovers, fluff, suggestive, nudity?

Length: Long, sorry didn't count again haha oops

-> Masterlist

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"You're adorable." Jungkook laughs in front of you, while you hide behind his back, hands clinging to his clothes. "I promise you they're harmless."

"I don't believe that." You shake your head, staring down the large.. creature in front of you. It reaches out it's head in clear interest, long whiskers turning towards you as if to reach you. It's eyes doesn't seem to have anything resembling a pupil- they look like marbles made from moonstone, moving but never quite focusing on anything.

"They're mostly blind during the day." Jungkook explains, casually reaching out to pet the creature's head, who loudly emits a rumbling sound from within it's slender scaled body. "And don't be fooled, they can be quite dangerous-" He offers, though clearly isn't fearful of the creature in front of him as he boldly grabs it's large beak, playfully tugging it from left to right, earning a sound that sounds similar to a doorhinge squeaking as the creature jumps a little, large claws on the ground ripping out some of the grass and ground. "-but this one is docile. It listens to me." He offers, before he turns to look at you. "Come here." He suddenly says, before he lifts you over his shoulder, making you panic as you grab and hold onto his clothes. Jungkook however, just laughs.

"It's gonna eat me!" You beg, as he brings you closer to the creature. "Please-" You whimper, before you feel Jungkook sitting you down on the creature's back, holding onto your hips as you hold your breath.

You can feel the strong pulse of it's heart beating in it's chest right next to where your legs are. It's moving ocassionally- but the thing doesn't seem too bothered by you on it's back. It's warm, too- the skin under your hands feeling like leather.

"You're okay." Jungkook says, and when you open your eyes, you realize he's talking to you. "I'd never put you in harms way, my dear." He smiles kindly, and only now do your take a deep albeit shaky breath, when the creature's long neck moves, head turning to look in your direction. Now it's got a chance at properly meeting you it seems- as it's beak gently pushes against your body here and there, huffing air out before it breathes your scent back in. "I'd say they like you."

"Doesn't.. is it a she or a he?" You wonder, and Jungkook chuckles.

"Neither." He says. "And both at the same time." He offers, running a hand over what you assume must be a deep scar on their shoulder. "Is'ois don't have a gender. They're born from the remains of their old lifes." He explains. "They carry their next life within their bodies until they die. That's when the new life inside them takes over." He says.

"So, right now.. they have, another baby inside them?" You wonder, and Jungkook chuckles.

"That's.. a simplified version, but yes." He nods. "There's always two hearts beating in their body. One for the current life, and one for the next." He says, as the creature purrs into your stomach. "And once the new life starts, it will create it's own next in line to take over when they die."

"But what if.. they were to pass before they can make a new one?" You wonder, carefully attempting to pet the creature by imitating the way Jungkook runs his fingers over the skin.

"Then they truly die." He sighs. "But it's against the law and against all ethics to do that. Young Is'ois are to be protected." He says.

"So that's why you keep them as pets?" You ask, and he laughs.

"I've never thought about it, but we do somewhat keep them as 'pets', like you do with your animals on earth." He nods, helping you down from the back of the creature. "They're very fond of you, by the way." Jungkook tells you, and you notice it too, as it bumps it's head into your shoulder, huffing a strong breath through your hair. "Not as much as I am, though." He sneakily tells you, before-

licking your neck?!

You're caught off guard for a second- but Jungkook is already walking away, laughing to himself. And you run after him, for a few steps, before you turn around, and look at the creature, who leans down on one of it's legs as if to bow- an action you return, making it throw it's head back, happily squeaking- before you turn to run after Jungkook, who only watches the scene with a fond smile on his lips.

"You adapt well." He praises. "A very unique and good quality of yours." He tells you, as you reach out to hold onto his hand. It makes him look at them for a moment, before he adjusts his palm to hold yours as well, more firm, like a statement.

"I'm just.. you know. Considering I'll probably spend the rest of my life here, the least I can do is adapt to everything, right?" You say, and he nods. "And you're the king. I don't want to.. embarass you or something." You mumble more or less, making him laugh.

"You aren't, don't worry." He denies, entering the castle structure's halls, walking through the corridors with you. "If anything, I need to be more careful with you. You've caught a few eyes during our festivities last time." He chuckles.

"Oh.." you simply respond, unsure what to say to that. You're also quiet when he opens the door to a room you've not yet been in- a.. bathhouse?

Water is running, and everything smells like something similar to eucalyptus or peppermint, and lanterns are the only source of light- though its not dark by any means. It's odd, warm, and inviting- but most of all, you notice how Jungkook locks the heavy doors.

"I do not want anyone to see you bare but me." He simply says, before he walks to one of the edges of the large tub in the middle of the hall, taking off his jewelry.

"I- are we-" you stammer, unsure. He chuckles.

"I will not touch you with impure intentions." He explains. "Like I told you before, I won't ever force myself upon you. But considering how close we've become, I feel like it is time to take another step forward to one another." He offers, untying the front of his shirt. "Only if you want as well, of course." He tells you, before he pulls his shirt over his head, leaving you speechless.

Apart from traditional looking ink under his skin, there's clearly visible scars on his back, reminding you of his kind's rather aggressive approach to life. It reminds you of the large canvas painting you've seen, the stories you've been told, the things that you've seen him do. He's capable of ending your life with not much effort at all-

And you wonder why he doesn't.

But you remember what he'd told you, too.

'I'll wait until your lust turns into love' he'd said- implying that what he seeks, what he already feels himself, is love. He loves you, and in a way, you only realize that now. It only really seems to become real to you, right now.

You're so deep in thought you only get pulled back into reality by the sight of him dipping his body into the green-ish water, sighing as he sits in the bath, arms on the edge of the tub. He seems to be unbothered by you not joining him- and maybe it's really time to jump over your shadow.

So you walk to where his clothes are, and slowly undress as well, using the string of the front of his shirt to tie up your hair so it won't get wet, before you walk closer, carefully climbing over the edge of the bath.

It's made of stone, but warmed up by the water flowing, and in a way, it's both extremely hot but also not unpleasant.

You can feel his eyes on you from the side, watching.

You're not sure what to do now that you're sitting in the water next to him- green liquid reaching up your neck compared to him who's upper body is mostly untouched, and his hand reaches out almost ad if to see how you'd react- fingers finding your spine, moving over it until he can no longer reach the lower parts.

He's silent, and when you turn a little to look at him, you find him smile warmly at you, a gentle glimmer in his eyes as he watches you, before he moves toward you, water sloshing around.

"Are you comfortable?" He asks, and you nod. You weirdly enough are, despite the.. clear lack of clothing. "I'm glad." He smiles a bit brighter, hands on either side of your shoulder as he pushes you back against the outer wall of the tub, but this time, you're not nervous.

You trust him.

You finally fully trust him.

"You're beautiful like this." He hums, hands moving to hold your face delicately. "Simply bare, relaxed, enchanting me with nothing but the body nature had gifted you." He chuckles, leaning closer.

"I'm yours." You suddenly say, and it catches him off guard. "Not just because you protect me.. or because you offer me a life like that.." you mumble,nlookong rather at his collarbone than him. "..I would've.. fallen in love with you if you'd been nothing but a peasant as well." You chuckle shyly, and his pupils visibly contract and dilate at your words.

"You have no idea what those words do to me." He almost growls, leaning in closer, before he slowly kisses your lips once. "I'm struggling."

"With what?" You joke, faking innocence, as he moves his lips to your neck instead, where he licks the skin again like he did earlier- just a lot more.. sensually, this time.

"Controlling myself." He hums into your skin, before he bites, almost enough to hurt. "You're about to bloom like the prettiest flower ever created by nature, my darling." He purrs, and your legs adjust a little underwater.

"What do you-" you struggle to keep a coherent thought with his hands traveling over your skin, but never going where it could be seen as inappropriate. "What do you mean by that?"

"You'll see." He simply chuckles, hands moving to hold your wrists against the edge of the stone-walled tub.

"Jungkook!" You whine, and at that his grip on you tightens, body moving even closer.

"You're playing unfairly, saying my name like that." He tells you, gaze sharp as he watches you from above. "I could easily overpower you like this, weak thing. Take you just how I like, no struggle of yours capable of pushing me away from you." He threatens.

"But you won't." You simply say, and and that, he brightly grins, hands running over your bare arms to hold your face again instead, his forehead resting on yours.

"Tell me why you believe that." He asks, his eyes closed. "Let me hear it." He requests with a smile on his lips, when your hands hold onto his wrists.

"Because I trust you." You say, unable to keep your own lips from smiling. "Because I love you." You say, and his mouth opens for a second, as if his mind can't handle hearing it like that, before his eyes open again.

Hazy, glossed over, before he leans in to kiss you-

The simple gesture way hotter than the steaming waters around you could ever be.

[hirokari]

aestival, c.xs

pairing :: cheng xiaoshi x gender neutral!reader

word count :: 18.7k

genre :: high school!au, senior!au, popular boy!xiaoshi, lovesick!xiaoshi, mutual pining from the start (like he's absolutely smitten for you i swear)

warnings :: explicit language, mentions of wounds, mentions of medical supplies (band aid, antibiotic), eating food truck food

author's note :: i got this fic idea in class and just . threw up words HAHA anyways i love cheng xiaoshi our bbg pls enjoy pure mutual pining!!

masterlist. navigation.

i. meet.

Cheng Xiaoshi's backpack is severely under-packed for senior year. It even seems deflated to Lu Guang as they walk into the school campus.

"I'm surprised you weren't held back a year." Says the younger boy, though his tone does not hold any hint of jest. Nevertheless, Xiaoshi laughs at the comment.

There's a small jump in each of his steps. Breathing in, Xiaoshi looks around and takes note of how… different it seems this year.

The grass is greener, the sky is clearer, the students are chattier. As the sun shines its warm rays against the skin of his arms and cheeks, he beams.

"Y'know, I have a hunch."

"Shoot me." Replies Lu Guang, his face already resembling one of amusement. Whatever Xiaoshi has to say always humors him. "I've got a feeling senior year has something in store for me." Hums the boy, shaking a hand through his raven locks. His friend, in return, deadpans.

"What makes you think that?" Of course: the standard logical Lu Guang response.

Xiaoshi smiles, "I've got a funny feeling in my bones."

"A funny feeling?" Lu Guang repeats in a laugh. "You're basing a statement for the year off of your funny bones?"

Xiaoshi's mouth hangs open as he's about to retort back with something that would not help his case at all— but a grunt escapes his lips instead as something comes crashing against his abdomen.

"Shit- sorry!"

In front of him is a scrambling student, apologizing profusely. He freezes.

As you gather yourself and apologize to the boy, he leans down and grasps the spine of your chem textbook, lifting and handling it towards your direction.

"Oh, thank you. Sorry, again," You sigh, taking the thick textbook from him. The tip of your finger grazes his and Xiaoshi's sense of time stops. He takes a good look at you within a split second– the warm sun and cold morning air hitting your cheeks makes you look absolutely ethereal.

Cheng Xiaoshi had gone to this school for the past 6 years of his life– but not once had he met anyone that looked as pretty as you do right in this moment. You send him a small, tight-lipped smile that seems grateful and still a little apologetic. Your chin scrunches and your cheeks puff out when you do, and he likes the sight of it.

The whole ordeal happened quick. Too quick. You stand up and pat off the material of your uniform, adjusting your hold on your textbook. Xiaoshi stares. After noticing you shift and tilt your head at the gawking boy, Lu Guang nudges and pushes against his friend’s elbow, sending you a quick ‘goodbye’ and dragging Xiaoshi away.

Xiaoshi doesn’t want to leave. In fact, he refuses to. But what’s the use, you had already left, the only remnants of you being your warm floral scent in the summer morning breeze. He breathes deeply, feet planted firm on the ground and feeling a little strange when his nose tingles at your smell.

“That was the most beautiful, pretty, breathtaking person I’ve ever spoken to.” He sighs. “You’re acting like you’ve never spoken to a human before in your life, Xiaoshi,” Comments Lu Guang as he starts treading away.

“I haven’t spoken to a human that looks as if the sun and the moon shared a hug and a million stars danced with each other and everything in the milky way was perfect and not one person on earth had lactose intolerance!”

“What the hell are you even saying? Are you okay?” Lu Guang is starting to grow genuinely worried. The last time he’d seen Xiaoshi act like this was when he had a full-on obsession over Angelina Jolie for a solid 3 hours.

Xiaoshi feverishly shakes his head, cheeks flamed.“No! Do you know who that was?”

“No.”

“That makes things worse,” Groans Xiaoshi into the palm of his hands. He can feel how hot his skin had turned just remembering how pretty you looked.

 “What if I never see them ever again? Do you know how bad I potentially just fumbled the bag here?”

“You’re saying that as if they’d like you back.” Lu Guang can’t help but let his eyes roll. Xiaoshi cries something along the lines of ‘harsh, much?’ and proceeds to whine about having just let you walk away as he stumbles his way to class, Lu Guang directioning him the whole way for the most part.

Cheng Xiaoshi, though he doesn’t seem it, is a hopeless romantic. As his feet drag against the tiled floor almost automatically, Xiaoshi wonders if whoever you were could have been more to him. He’d let fate decide: An acquaintance, a friend, an enemy, a lover. Maybe all of those in that order. Maybe you could be, somewhere in the future.

But he doesn’t really like the idea of waiting for fate. Not when he’s so eager to run into you again– why hadn’t he met you earlier? In sophomore or junior year? Had the universe intended to keep you cooped up away from him until you swept and escaped from its grasp to get back to him?

He knows he’s getting ahead of himself. Nonetheless, he hopes you bump into him again, maybe holding an extra book or two so he could retrieve them for you. Or maybe, if the universe was kind enough to him for a second time (the first was meeting you.), he’d bump into you.

The soccer field is on a large strangely elevated patch of grass. Xiaoshi doesn’t like the extra flight of stairs he has to travel up on in order to enter it. It was originally a large hill, he heard from Lu Guang, but the school thought it’d be of better use if it were a soccer field.

The summer sun is blaring too hot, the boy thinks, as he wipes his sweat off of his brow.

“I’m open!” Yells Xiaoshi, waving his arms.

Far too much movement out in the open sun.

The senior feels sticky and his feet feel like jelly. He doesn’t know how long he’d been playing at this point. Frankly, Xiaoshi doesn’t know why he’d called out for the ball. Instinctual, he supposes.

The ball comes flying at him, and being the basketball-loving goof he is, reaches out to grab it with his hands. Within the last split second, and Lu Guang shouting at him to take it to the chest instead, he forces his arms down, taking the impact to his face instead.

Xiaoshi is wordless as he grasps at his face, feeling extremely dazed.

“Shoot, sorry! Are you good, man?” Shouts a fellow player, though it sounds warped in his ears.

As he waves the concerned murmurs off, he lets his feet lead him to the bleachers, calling for a quick break. It is too damn hot out today, he thinks, heaving at the thick warm afternoon air. Xiaoshi still holds his palm to his face, shielding his eyes from the bright sun that seemed to burn.

Reaching out, Xiaoshi expects to feel the cold metal of the railings that stand in front of the bleachers, but is met with nothing but the air his fingers cut through as he sweeps his hand around. “Wh-?”

Uncovering his eyes, his feet travel forward before he could process where he’d been walking into.

The yelp Xiaoshi lets out embarrasses him and he blushes a little, though none of that really mattered anymore when he realizes he’s tumbling down the other side of the hill, stray twigs and leaves pricking him as he rolls down the grass. He doesn’t let out one noise, the whole situation happening too quick for him to react properly to.

Before he realized it, he’d stopped rolling. Probably for a good few seconds already, but his head needed time to stop swaying.

“Ugh,” Groans Xiaoshi, gripping his hair as his vision seems to keep spinning.

It takes him a solid moment to fully absorb what had happened and where he is. He first looks at the grass around him. Unlike the field he’d just been playing in, these were shaded by tall canopies of trees– the ones on the opposite side of the field, facing the bleachers from at least 100 meters away.

The second thing he notices are the pair of crossed legs in front of his, tensed and pressed up against a chest. Xiaoshi makes an effort to tilt his head up— as much as it made him nauseous— and face the owner of said pair of legs.

There you sit, your book discarded and arms length to the side, eyes blown wide as you scrutinize the boy. “Are you- are you okay?”

Xiaoshi’s mouth hangs open dangerously wide as he meets eyes with you. His skin burns– and he can’t tell if its from 

spending so much time in the sun and overheating, or because you just witnessed what might be the most embarrassing moment of his life.

“I’m… fine.” Is all he’s able to say. A little bit of everywhere stings. His elbows, his knees, his head especially. But it’s alright because Xiaoshi thinks you look absolutely ethereal with bits and patches of sunlight peeking through the leaves of the trees standing above you two, as if shielding you both from the reality of the world. The sunrays frame your face in a kind and soft way, lighting up your nose and cheeks when you lean over to check up on him.

Xiaoshi admires you (almost shamelessly) but you can’t care to notice because you’re busy fussing about him. 

“You’re- bleeding! You need help!”

“It’s fine,” Scoffs Xiaoshi. “It’s barely anything.”

But as you carefully fish a handkerchief out of your pocket (of course you’d have one, thinks Xiaoshi, it’s also bear-patterned!) and slowly press it against his shin, the boy winces, flinching his leg away with a whine as his hand instinctively flies up to grip at your wrist.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize. “Could you hold that for me there? I promise it’ll just be a moment.” Your fingers grace over his knuckles as you instruct him, and Xiaoshi doesn’t even think once about protesting, immediately following and holding the cloth in place. 

He can feel the pads of your fingers linger for a little longer, and although he’s already overheated from the hot summer sun, your fingers radiate a different kind of warmth– a friendly, homely warmth that reminds him of all his favorite things. A kind of warmth that feels like a ladybug crawling across his arm, but he lets it be for the good luck.

“I’ve got an antibiotic in here somewhere,” Rummaging through your bag, you briefly look up to send the boy an assuring and calm smile. His chest thumps violently. Your sheer persistence to help out someone you’d only talked to once— though Xiaoshi doubts you even remember that encounter— moves him.

As you search, the raven-haired boy lets his free hand travel down the grass he sits on, relishing in the chill contrast of it compared to the blazing hot field. He picks at a weed, then a daisy that grows right by his thigh, and threads them together, creating a braid long enough to circle around his pinky finger. He binds them together with a knot and slips it onto his pinky finger, a small, boyish ingenuous grin spreading across his lips.

“Here,” Tenderly lifting his fingers, Xiaoshi lets you pry his hand off his leg, watching as you dab a small amount of antibiotic cream on the cloth. 

“Could you press this in place again? I have to find you a bandaid,”

“Yeah, of course,”

Dazed, Xiaoshi doesn’t react at the first contact the rag makes with his wound. And a moment later, after having enough of his fill of watching you, he returns to wincing, wearing a sour grimace on his face as he refuses to take the cloth off just because you ordered him not to.

“Here.” Taking Xiaoshi’s free hand, you place the bandaid into his palm and take hold of your handkerchief again. With an open palm, the boy looks at it, the corner of his lip twitching upwards at its animal pattern.

“Thank you,” Says Xiaoshi in a small voice. You nod, “It’s alright, I’m just glad you’re fine. Although,” Pausing, you lean forward, face nearing his as you press the back of your hand against his cheek. He inhales sharply, eyes widening at the feeling of your soft fingers against the skin of his face.

“You’re burning up.” You conclude. “You did put on sunscreen before playing, right?”

Xiaoshi’s silence answers your question, but the guilty glance towards the field tells you more than you need to know.

You shake your head, “Wear a hat next time; that’s the least thing you could do. Sunburns are no pretty thing.” You pause, tilting your head to the side with a teasing look in your eyes. “But red’s a good shade on you.”

It’s until now when Xiaoshi realizes how close you’d been, his breath hitting the peach fuzz on your face. “Shut up,” He groans, pushing at your shoulder. Letting out a quick chuckle, you let him push you back into your original position and watch as he applies the band aid across his wound.

“You’re… the guy I bumped into a few weeks ago, aren’t you?”

Oh. He hadn’t expected you to remember that, considering how fast the whole thing had happened.

“Yeah,” Replies Xiaoshi with a nod. “I forgot to ask… for your name,” He says, fidgeting and looking to the side, discovering a shy part of him he hadn’t known existed.

“It’s Y/N L/N.”

“Y/N L/N,” He repeats. It rolls off his tongue nicely, he thinks, and he wants to say it again. “I’m Xiaoshi. Cheng Xiaoshi.”

“Cheng Xiaoshi.” You say, repeating his name like he did yours. You say it again under your breath and at the sound of it, he thinks everything is right and beautiful in the world.

“We’ve got to go,” You mention, checking the time on your phone as you stuff your bag with your belongings you’d taken out. “We’ve got seven minutes ‘till class.”

Xiaoshi watches as you rush to your feet, patting against your legs and uniform. You offer to help him up, but he shakes his head politely, picking up the novel you’d been reading and wiping off the little dirt that had gotten on the cover with his slender fingers.

“Will I see you again?” Asks Xiaoshi, though he hadn’t thought before he let the question slip past his lips. You look back at him, offering a smile, “I’m not sure… but we’ll see, I guess. Bye, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

“Bye, Y/N L/N.”

His cheeks burn, this time not because of a near-sunburn he’d gotten playing soccer in nothing but his uniform.

ii. cheng xiaoshi!

You hadn’t realized you’d lost your book until after arriving home from school a few days ago. Now here you are, sitting next to your upperclassman and lab partner, Qiao Ling, legs leaning against the bleacher in front of you. Even under the shades of the thin metal ceiling the bleachers came with, you felt like you were being boiled alive.

The two of you watch a mix of seniors and juniors play a friendly match of soccer, and you can’t help but wonder where Xiaoshi had been since the last time you’d seen him.

After him stumbling into you— almost literally— you hadn’t seen him all week. Not like he’d been looking for you either.

Fun fact: he actually was.

Xiaoshi sits in the spot he’d last met you in, fingers grazing across the title etched onto the hardcover of your novel that you’d forgotten with him. Wearing a small pout, the boy heaves a childish sigh, letting his back fall onto the fresh grass under him, admiring the canopies towering over him.

It’s definitely a peaceful and sound place, but there was a sense of beauty knowing it was exclusively yours. He can see remnants of you everywhere: a dented patch of grass that he imagines happened because you’d sat there every time, several traces of plucked weeds and flowers, your initials you’d scratched onto a tree because you’d been bored one day.

Xiaoshi’s fingers travel up to the rough, textured bark that spelled out your initials, inhaling its earthy scent of oak. He imagines you, with a pen or a pocket knife, etching the letters onto the dark and dull bark with the same concentrated look you’d worn a few days ago.

His phone suddenly vibrates in the pocket of his uniform. Still staring at the engraved letters, Xiaoshi takes his device out and unlocks it, finally turning to his screen.

Lu Guang

| Where are you?

| Sociology starts in 10 minutes.

Cheng Xiaoshi

| im omw

Standing by himself in the deserted hall in front of the library, Lu Guang scoffs to himself, knowing very well his friend is not in fact on his way.

Lu Guang

| Please hurry

| Those popular douchebags are here and I can’t stand putting up with your nonsense, let alone theirs.

Cheng Xiaoshi

| those “douchebags” are my friends, Guang :l

Lu Guang doesn’t respond, having gone offline, and Xiaoshi takes that as his cue to get to class.

He hadn’t realized it, but when he looks down, he can make out the faint trail you’d made with your frequenting visits here, a beeline of thinning grass and hardening soil leading him towards the campus. It seemed like a little portal between the calm of the forest and the bustle of high school.

Finally, Xiaoshi arrives at the bottom of the hill, staring up at the flight of stairs leading into the bleachers. The air feels extremely more humid from where he stands, letting the sun hit his skin (but he’d worn sunscreen this morning, just because you’d told him too, of course.)

The first step up feels somewhat like a struggle. A feeling like something in between refusing and complaining. But he’s just being dramatic, really. Xiaoshi walks up the rest of the stairs like it was nothing.

Finally on the top of the stairs and shielded from the sun under the ceiling of the bleachers, Cheng Xiaoshi feels like his stomach tightens at the sight of you talking with Qiao Ling and lets his mouth hang open, eyes wide like buttons.

“Y/N L/N!”

Your shoulders shrug up at the sudden yell of your name, and it seems like everyone has stopped talking, just as startled. Turning around, your eyes widen when they meet with Xiaoshi’s, your mouth parting slightly, though you’re not sure what to say.

“Cheng… Xiaoshi?”

Qiao Ling, who hadn’t bothered to look (because things like this had happened too often to her, though she should’ve known it was Xiaoshi), whips her head towards his direction, ridiculed.

There’s a moment when you both look at each other and everyone else goes back to minding their own business. Xiaoshi’s cheeks are dusted pink from both the walk in the sun and meeting you here coincidentally. He holds your book up, his fingers wrapped around the spine of it, giving you a grin.

Charming, you think. His smile is charming. And teethy.

“I’ve… got your book.” He says. Brows raising, you let out an exasperated breath. That was, in fact, the book you’d been searching for during the past few days. “Oh,” You can’t resist the small smile growing across your lips as he offers it to you. You take it with nimble fingers, brushing against the cover, then looking up at him. “Thank you.”

What followed was another moment of silence.

Was this going to be a usual thing between you two?

“Hold on, you know him?” Qiao Ling, who had been ogling at your interaction the whole time speechless, plants a hand on your shoulder, completely disregarding the enthusiastic “yeah!” Xiaoshi replies with.

“Yeah, met him on our first day this year. I bumped into him, actually…” Although the whole ordeal has passed, you still wear a shameful smile. Qiao Ling narrows her eyes at Xiaoshi, “Oh you’re the golden boy they talked about?”

“Golden boy? Talked about?”

“Um,” You hiss before he could question any more, giving Qiao Ling an embarrassed and pointed look. A realization settles into her and she apologizes quietly, though she seems more teasing than anything. “Class is like, pretty soon, is it not?” You chuckle nervously, two fingers fiddling and pinching the cover of your book.

“Right, yeah, I was on my way to sociology.” Says Xiaoshi, though it seems like he’d just remember himself. “Oh, I’ve got advanced math— which is like, right down the hall to your class.”

“I can walk you there!”

“That’d be cool, yeah,”

Qiao Ling wants to interject. Remind you two of her presence. But she’s completely dumbfounded at the fact that she knows very well that if she did, neither of you would acknowledge it, too lost in the small talk and shared glances.

“Right, well, while you two do that, I’ll be here, I guess.”

“You’re not going to class?” You ask. “Nope.” Her ‘P’ pops against her lips as she leans back against the bleacher. “I’ve got a free period. Pros of being a future valedictorian, eh?”

“Shouldn’t you be using that time to study?”

“Oh, you’re one to talk, Xiaoshi. Go, shoo, before you’re late. As far as I know, Mr. Lee doesn’t like tardiness.”

“Shit, that’s my class.” Groans Xiaoshi, wiping a hand against his sweaty face. “Let’s go, Y/N L/N.” As you tread after him and wave goodbye to QIao Ling, you can’t help but laugh at the boy. “You could just call me Y/N.”

“But I like saying Y/N L/N. It rolls off nice on the tongue.”

“So does Cheng Xiaoshi.”

Shit. Is this flirting? Is Cheng Xiaoshi really flirting with the prettiest person he’s ever met? Xiaoshi seems to sweat even more, despite already entering the air-conditioned campus building. Your finger brushes against his lightly while you walk next to him, but he doesn’t think you noticed. You’re still complaining about taking advanced math with Mrs. Wang.

“I don’t get it,” Xiaoshi interjects. “Why did you pick it in the first place?” Your cheeks dust red. “Er, well,” You sigh. “I thought I’d look smart if I took the class. Turns out absolutely none of her students understand the material and we’re all left to fend for ourselves with youtube tutors and a really, really thick textbook that amounts to nothing but yet another droning lecturer.”

“Isn’t Lu Guang taking that class?”

“Lu Guang?” You hum, tilting your head. “Your friend?” Xiaoshi nods, “Yeah, the one with the white hair. People absolutely fawn over him.”

“He’s taking the class on Wednesday, then, I’m assuming.” You shrug. The both of you turned the corner and there Xiaoshi’s class was. The big metal door stands heavily in all its glory, declaring itself an entrance and separation from you. You look beyond the hallway, and spot the familiar graffitied door of Mr. Huang’s class (so many students had failed his class that they’d graffiti on his door in a feat of protest. The old man never minded it, though, it just reminded him more of his streak in paining high school kids).

“I’ll see you later,” You pause, looking up at him. “Cheng Xiaoshi.”

“You too,” He smiles. “Y/N L/N.”

The next time Xiaoshi sees you, you’re typing away at your laptop on a lunch table out in the courtyard, shaded by a generously thick tree. You’re completely neglecting your food, absolutely focused on your task at hand.

“Ahoy there, Y/N L/N.”

Cheng Xiaoshi greeting you boldly and loudly out of the blue does not faze you anymore. Not when he’s been doing it for weeks on end. Sipping on your soda with a straw stuck into the can, you swallow with a fresh sigh.

“Hello, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

“What’re you writing there?” Asks the boy as he plops down next to you, comfortably keeping a knee pressed against his chest as he plants his lunch next to yours. “It’s my English report. I planned on pulling an all-nighter last night, but,” You sigh, having been cut off when Xiaoshi offers half of his sandwich to you. You eye it, then lean down to smell it with a heavy whiff.

“You think I’d poison you, Y/N? And here I thought we were friends!” Xiaoshi mimics an arrow shooting straight through his chest, leaning against the table and dramatically hanging his head as if he’d just lost consciousness.

You laugh.

God, your laugh, Xiaoshi could live off of it alone. Your cheeks when you smile, the teeth you bare to him when you chuckle. He wishes to see it everyday.

“You called me Y/N. Like, Y/N only, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess you came around. Anyways, eat up.” Xiaoshi taps the bread of his sandwich against your mouth and you roll your eyes, taking a bite and wiping the crumbs off the corner of your lips.

“Thanksh.” You murmur through a mouthful. You push your lunch towards him. “I made fried rishe. Pleash try it out fohr me.”

Xiaoshi’s lip quips up at your strange, mouthful accent. “Of courshe.” He says obnoxiously at you, laughing when you push his cheek away with your hand. Picking up the stainless steel spoon you’d packed, Xiaoshi eats a spoonful of your cooking, smacking his lips as he chews obnoxiously.

You’re very aware he’s trying to cheer you up. You can’t imagine how grumpy you looked typing and frowning when he approached you.

“Well?” You say, finally swallowing down the little bit of his sandwich you’d eaten. “Is it any good?”

“Is it any good?” Repeats Xiaoshi. “Do fish live in the sea?”

“No,” You spit playfully, hands hovering back over your laptop keyboard. But before you could start working again, Xiaoshi smacks your hands and you gasp, looking at him wide-eyed as he closes your laptop shut.

“You did not just do that.” You hiss. Xiaoshi sticks a tongue out at you. “I just did. Anyways, give your little laptop a break would you? And yourself, too, of course.”

You suppose he’s right. A part of you appreciates Xiaoshi a little more (if that were possible) now as he munches on food, and another part wants to smack him in the face when you realize it’s your food he’s munching on.

“Cheng Xiaoshi! You just ate, like, half of my lunch, you goof!”

“It’s your fault you cooked it so good, Y/N L/N.”

You take Xiaoshi’s ham sandwich sourly, wanting to get back at him as you take a big bite right in front of his face. And although you think he’s as upset as you are for eating his lunch, Xiaoshi’s chest warms at the sight of you eating the rest of his lunch, and when he offers yours back, you snatch it and devour it quickly. His smile grows each spoonful of food you eat.

“Hey,” He says, leaning his head against his fist as he watches you eat. You hum in response through full cheeks. “I’m gonna buy a milkshake. Want one?”

You mouth something along the lines of Hannah montana and a strangely structured word. 

“...what?”

You roll your eyes at him, swallowing and finally telling him: “banana, please.” Xiaoshi’s mouth forms an ‘o’ and he nods at you. “Don’t you mean ‘banana, pleash’?”

“I hate you. Like genuinely. Like I’m going to be friends with Lu Guang now instead.” You huff, and he juts his bottom lip out at you. 

The milkshake stand in the small nook of the canteen is run by two freshman girls. You and Xiaoshi are in fact their first and top customers… and their only customers during this season. Xiaoshi offers them both a wide smile and orders one strawberry and one banana. As one scurries off to whip up their orders, Jia, the younger of the two, leans against the counter of their property (they have a cooking and selling permit from the principal herself until lunch hour ends) with a suggestive smile.

“So? How’s Y/N? How’re your kids?”

“Holy shit,” Groans Xiaoshi. This was the only reason he hadn’t asked for you to come along. Both Jia and Yanyu know about the senior’s harboring feelings for you. They also know about your harboring feelings for him.

You both had admitted to your feelings to them individually, unable to decipher their devious, knowing smile.

“Language!” Yells Yanyu over the blender. “Sorry,” Replies Xiaoshi, monotone. “But really, I don’t want to talk about it, Jia.”

“Uh oh. Trouble in paradise?” Says Jia, crossing her arms, her braided hair shifting against her shoulder. The boy scoffs, “Stop acting like we’re married.”

“You two may as well be. Quick, tell me, my therapist hours are open.”

Xiaoshi can’t believe he’s about to spill his heart’s heavy doubts to a 14 year old.

“They’re… not interested.” He sighs. Jia, wide-eyed, leans closer. “They told you that?”

“Well, no.” She deadpans. “You can’t just assume they aren’t. Communication. Is. Key.” She says, clapping her hands to corresponding syllables she speaks. Xiaoshi shrugs, “I’ve been trying to drop hints, but they’ve either been ignoring it or they’re really, really, blind.”

“It’s the latter.” Says Yanyu as she hands him his drinks. They both know too much about how you both can be ridiculously blind to dropped hints. She grimaces at the thought of you both prancing and dancing around a bush, Xiaoshi’s pathetic attempts to earn your heart when he doesn’t know it’s in his hands. “Definitely the latter.”

“Well, I just bought them a banana smoothie. Think that’ll be eye-opening enough?”

“Are you crazy?” Groans Jia, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You do that for each other all the time! Do something nice out of the blue or norm, like…”

“Tell ‘em you think they look pretty today!” Interjects Yanyu. Xiaoshi tilts his head, “But I think they look pretty everyday?”

Aw. Yanyu and Jia share a knowing look. “Well, do you tell them?”

“No, I guess not…” He hums. “Then this is your chance! Flatter them. Everyone loves that. Tell them you love their eyes, their lips, their hair– the way they part their hair.” Jia pauses, smiling cheekily as she watches his cheeks heat up. “In fact, tell them you love all their parts.”

“I can’t say that!”

“Sure, you can!” Sings Yanyu, planting her hands against his shoulders and directing him towards the table you sit in.

In the distance, the three of them can spot you, having finished both yours and Xiaoshi’s lunch. You write down in your notebook, scribbling almost aggressively, but he still thinks you look heavenly.

“Well, see ya, lover boy!” Jia pushes against his back lightly, nudging him as he takes a step forward. “And tell Y/N we said hi! And that we miss them!”

Yanyu tells him a few encouraging words but he can’t process them when he’s trying to figure out how to tell you how damn pretty he thinks you look everyday. The condensation of both your cold smoothies mix with the sweat of his palms– either from the humidity or just the thought of you– and he sits down next to you, eyes trained on you.

“Thanks, Xiaoshi,” You say, accepting the banana smoothie he’d handed to you subconsciously. But quicker than he’d wanted, you notice his intense gaze and gulp thickly.

“Is there… anything on my face?” You ask, wiping the back of your hand against your cheek self-consciously.

“Yeah,” Says Xiaoshi slowly. “Pretty… ness.”

What. Was that. So much for golden boy.

You give him a questioning look, taking a sip of the smoothie he’d just bought you. “Are you okay? Are you having a heat stroke? I told you to put on some sunscreen.”

“You look really pretty today.” Xiaoshi finally says in a blunt tone. “Oh,” You mumble, surprised. “Thanks.”

You hope you sound calm, because you definitely aren’t. Cheng Xiaoshi had just gone to buy you a smoothie and came back to tell you that you’re pretty. Totally not something the universe had personally hand-picked out of your delusional brain filled with fantasies.

“I think you look pretty, too.” You say in a small, breathy and shaky voice. “Thank you,” Replies Xiaoshi with a small smile. 

“Wanna try some of my milkshake? You haven’t tried the strawberry one, right?”

“Oh, sure. Thanks.”

“Also, Jia and Yanyu miss you.”

Xiaoshi thinks this is a mission success. Your cheeks red from the sun (and from Xiaoshi complimenting you, but he denies that) as you try his smoothie, and he takes a sip of your banana flavored one. He told you he thought you looked pretty and you think he’s pretty too; definitely mission success. 

You don't expect Xiaoshi to coincidentally have the same free period as you– let alone have him sit with you in the library as you highlight keywords and statements in your textbook.

"It's so weird that we've got the same free period," You mumble with half the effort, focused on skimming through your material. Xiaoshi lets out a 'pshh' sound with his breath: "Nah. I skipped class."

"You skipped class?" You repeat, dropping your book and highlighter as you furrow your brows at him. Though a little surprised at your reaction, the boy nods slowly. “No, one does not just ‘skip class’.” You cough. “You’ve gotta go through the paperwork and give the teacher a dismissal note for whatever reason you made up. And then have your classmates make an alibi for you as you’re out.”

“...or you could just walk out the door and never return.”

“No, Cheng Xiaoshi, you can’t just do that.” You laugh, though it's the kind of laugh where you’re in disbelief and somewhat in denial. “Holy shit.” Says Xiaoshi, leaning closer with a teasing smile. “You, Y/N L/N, have never skipped a class.”

“I have!” You say a little too loud for your liking, earning looks from the students at the table next over. Mumbling a small sorry, you clasp your hands together in a makeshift apology before rummaging your head into your open textbook.

“I have never skipped a class.” You admit, sullen.

Xiaoshi can’t help but chuckle lightly at your current state, and he can’t help but laugh even more when you look up at him with a frown. “You’re really laughing at me right now!? I’m never going to live a fun and rebellious high school life and you’re laughing at me!”

“I-I’m not,” Xiaoshi pauses to collect himself. He eases his chuckles as he pats on his chest with his hand, which makes you more upset at him. “Alright, I’m sorry. It’s all the more better that you’ve never skipped a class, really. There’s no hype to it or anything like that.”

“I don’t know,” You huff, watching your breath turn over a page of your textbook. “I don’t really want to graduate high school knowing I’ve never skipped a class. It’s unfulfilling, or something like that.” Your expression turns sour. “Winning perfect absence sounds cool, though,”

“You wanna win that?” Asks Xiaoshi, leaning down and pressing his cheek to the cold hardwood of the table, facing you. You look at him, at his squished cheek and his intent gaze. Something in you whirrs– tingles.

“...no.”

Xiaoshi laughs. “It’s not too late, you know. You’ve still got, like, a semester to go.”

You whine, squeezing your eyes shut as you groan and let your forehead hit the cover of your textbook. “It’s too late, Xiaoshi, I’m already too deep in. I’m going to receive that award with some half-assed smile and so many regrets. Imagine how many bobas I could have had if I did have the strength to skip a class. Or fried rice. Or food truck burritos! God, imagine how many burritos.”

“So many burritos.” Xiaoshi lets out a melancholic sigh, and it somewhat humors you and comforts you as you turn to face him. You meet eyes with him, both your faces pressed against the table and you give him a small laugh when he repeats more and more foods you could have enjoyed if you’d ever skipped a class.

If you ever could.

iii. 3.27 PM

The fact that Cheng Xiaoshi stands at the door frame of your math advanced class doesn’t surprise you. Neither is the fact that he’s looking at your teacher with a bitter look. Though, the fact that those two don’t surprise you is just a bit concerning. Just a bit.

“Hello,” You say, pushing at his chest as you both exit your classroom.

“You’re so right,” Says Xiaosh a little too loud for your comfort, pausing to take another good look at your professor over your shoulder. “She does look divorced.”

“Holy shit.” You cough when her head whips to the both of you. “Great, now my advanced math teacher hates me. How could I ever repay you?” You groan sarcastically, bumping your knee to his. “Actually!” Beams Xiaoshi. “There is. You were called to the office.”

“Me? Called to the office?” You repeat, suspicious. “Should Mrs. Wang kno-”

“Nuh-uh! They told me it was urgent. Involves the both of us, apparently.” Xiaoshi is quick– almost too quick, too eager– to cut you off, grabbing a hold of your wrist. The action alone makes the ends of your fingers tingle and your chest to swell, and you hope Xiaoshi can’t tell your elevating heartbeat from the beating spot of skin in your wrist.

“Did you just say nuh-uh?” You say in a small snicker, letting him drag you down the hall and several flights of stairs. “Shut up.” Laughs Xiaoshi, his stomach caving in at the sound of your enjoyment.

Though Xiaoshi mentioned the office, for some ridiculous reason, you both end up walking up to the front gates, still hand in hand. You look back, the earthy scent of autumn enveloping you as you stare at the old, wet campus building.

“Why are you taking me outside.” You ask, though it sounds more like a demand. Xiaoshi’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He pauses for a moment, looks back at you, then looks back at the front gates you’d just walked out of, and then turns back around.

“I’ll tell you in a minute.”

Something in you wonders why you’re letting him drag you away from the school grounds, and to the opposite direction of where you’re supposed to be right now. But the answer is clearly obvious:

You have the biggest fattest crush on this boy.

You’re not sure when it happened, but it happened, alright. You’d realized when you were talking to him as he took a break from playing basketball, and when he’d confessed that he hadn’t put sunscreen on, you immediately whipped yours out and applied it to his skin yourself. As your fingers traveled and graced across the milky, plush skin of his face, you found yourself fawning over how he just sat there, eyes shut closed, and let you.

In the end, he retreated back to his teammates with a childish smile, with his cap on your head.

“In return for the facial!”

“It was sunscreen.”

But as you clutched the hat to your chest where your heart bloomed, you realized how much he’d grown on you.

“Okay.” Says Xiaoshi, letting your hand go to adjust his jean jacket, then the thick sweater layered under it. It’s until now when you realize you’re severely underdressed for this rainy weather, but with clutched and crossed arms, you let him speak.

“Congratulations Y/N L/N! You’ve just skipped your first class!”

What. The fuck. You can’t help but think. Wordless, you stare at him blankly, waiting for a punchline or a big reveal that this had been a silly prank. But as Xiaoshi pats both your shoulders and puffs his chest out as he tells you how proud of you he is, you grimace.

“There’s no fucking way I just fell for that.” Your hand travels up to clutch the side of your face. “You just dragged me out of class! Just like that!”

“I did!” Cheers Xiaoshi. He’s too cute to be mad at, really, but you just can’t believe he did that. “Xiaoshi! This is not something to be happy about!” You declare, though you’re trying to hold back a laugh when your best friend starts wiggling his arms and shaking his hips in what you think is a celebratory dance.

“In legal terms, you just kidnapped me. You’ve kidnapped me, Cheng Xiaoshi.” You say in a dramatic voice, flailing your arms at him. “Do you realize I left my jacket in class? I’m so underdressed for this.”

Xiaoshi takes a good look at you. Scans you up and down. Then frantic, he gingerly throws his jean jacket off and ties it around his waist, rushing to escape the warm binds of his sweater. The bottom hem of his uniform lifts as he tries to get his sweater off and you pull on it, laughing when you hear a muffled thanks through his multiple layers of clothes.

Finally, he’s rid of his green sweater— it's the type of green you like, and he very well knows that— and hands it to you with a toothy grin.

Like a puppy… You think when he seems to shake like a wagging tail.

“Thank you.” Is the only thing you can say as you accept the sweater. As you bow to put it on, you’re completely engulfed in his scent. He smells warm and earthy. Like fresh blades of grass after a light rain. He smells like the sun shines– not too hot, but warm enough for a good rest under the rays of light.

There’s a hint of AXE body spray, too. A very subtle hint of it.

The feeling of personally wearing a sweater that belongs to Cheng Xiaoshi is frankly… surreal to you. The sleeves are too long for you and you bunch the extra bit of it up until it reaches the palm of your hands, breathing into them for extra warmth.

Though he’s not wearing a jacket, Xiaoshi thinks seeing you in his sweater is enough to heat him up. There’s a shiver that descends from the top of his head down his spine and he thinks he likes it– or maybe it's the cold finally getting to him.

As he throws his jean jacket back on, Xiaoshi bumps his hip into yours, “Where do you want to go now, you class-skipping menace?”

You take no time to ponder:

“We’re going to have burritos. All the burritos.”

“So many burritos.”

It’s odd how warm you suddenly feel as soon as you take the first bite into your burrito. Maybe because it’s freshly made because they just opened, maybe it’s because Xiaoshi insisted on paying for it when you realized you left your wallet in class.

You frankly left everything in there, save for yourself and your phone.

Xiaoshi hums when he finally gets a taste of his burrito, wiping at the sauce that spilled on the corner of his lips with the back of his hand. After swallowing your bite, you nod at him with a knowing, smug smirk.

“Good, huh?”

The boy nods eagerly in response, which humors you a little. You pull the thick sleeves of Xiaoshi’s sweater up to your elbows so as to not get it dirty or spilled on, but it’s evident that you’re growing cold without the extra layer (and the pits of your elbows start to sweat a little too much). Xiaoshi, noticing the thoughtful gesture, assures you to keep your forearms covered with a full mouth.

“But I’m gonna get ‘em dirty!”

“It’sh foine!” He says through the several ingredients of his burrito (which consists of: a flour tortilla, beef, baked beans and several veggies).

“Are you shore?” You mimic him, pulling your sleeves down. Despite his eyes rolling at your antics, Xiaoshi sets his food down to help you with it, the warmth of his fingers alone radiating off of your skin that he begins to help cover.

Your stomach churns as you look down at the action. His gentle fingers help unbunch the material of his sweater and they wrap around your wrist for the second time today, his thumb rubbing across the bottom of your palm.

Chest wavering, your eyes cast up and they unexpectedly meet Xiaoshi’s (though he was staring at you the whole time). There’s a moment– he gives you a moment to make up something to say to him in return– but he’s really expecting a quiet, shy thank you and a full-blown confession. “Thanksh.” You say, cracking into a smile when he groans.

“You won’t let that live down?”

“You didn’t in the summer.”

Xiaoshi ignores your response with a pout, his hands fishing for his burrito and grabbing hold of it to take another dangerously obnoxious bite into it. Boy likes his beef and baked beans.

 You watch him, watch as more and more crumbs build up onto his chin until he wipes it off with a napkin and shoots it at an absurdly small trash can that sits a few feet away from you two, laughing at him when it hits the rim and misses.

“I’m bored.” You mention out of the blue when you’re finished with your burrito, crumpling the thin paper you’d used to hold your burrito with and used tissues into a big ball, handing it to Xiaoshi when he asks to have another shot into the bin. He misses.

“How the hell am I on the basketball team,” he laughs. You freeze, fingers playing with the plastic fork you were given as you ask: “you’re in the basketball team?”

“Hell yeah, I am.” Answers Xiaoshi with pride. And then a realization hits you. You’ve known Cheng Xiaoshi for nearly half a year and you barely know anything about him aside from the fact that he’s a big (maybe the biggest) goofball and he’s purely a golden retriever.

“Let’s play 21 questions.”

“All of a sudden?” He hums, swiping his hair up away from his forehead. Your head spins a little at how charming the action alone had made him. “Mhm. I barely know anything about you, and I doubt you know me more than I know you. So,”

“What I’m getting here,” Xiaoshi pauses, his face leaning closer to yours as he plants his elbow against the table. He wears a boyish smile and it makes your head buzz. “You wanna get to know me better, huh?”

“Exactly.” You say in a whisper, the ends of your fingers tingling when his smile grows at your response alone.

“Alright, I’ll go first: what’s your shoe size?”

You can’t help but let out a loud chuckle, “You’re so weird!”

“21 questions are 21 questions! Answer me.” Defends Xiaoshi, though he’s laughing with you.

“Alright, I’m like a decent size 40.”

“Only? I’m like, 43. I win.”

You’re about to comment on the fact that Xiaoshi just considered comparing shoe sizes for competition, but you don’t think you want to when he tells you not to be sour in a coo, patting your arm. He teases you in a sweet way, and you know he means no ill intent.

“Opinion on pineapple on pizza?”

“I’m neutral.” You shrug. Nodding, Xiaoshi wears a contemplating look, “I, for one, am all for it. You can never go bad with sweet and savory. In my opinion,” He pauses to press a hand against his chest. “I think they make a great pair. Soulmates, even.”

“Oh, yeah?” You hum. “That’s an interesting way to think of it. Between the two of us, who would you think is the sweet and who’s the savory?”

Oh. Xiaoshi looks at you, a light in his eyes as he wonders. You think he’s pondering for the answer, but he’s already got that figured out. You were the sweet to his savory. What he really was wondering was: were you regarding him as your soulmate when you asked that? He can’t tell. You’d said it in such a naive, innocent, genuine tone that makes him fold.

“You,” He starts, tapping his heel against the pavement of the street floor. “are a sweet cutie patootie sugar booger honey bun-”

“Oh my god, shut up.” You laugh loudly, leaning over to lightly press your hand against the direct front of his face that he teases nearer you. “Your turn, savory.”

“It’s your turn, sweets. Don’t you know how taking turns works?” Jests Xiaoshi, his cheek still pressed against your outstretched hand. You shake your head, "I took it already– I just asked you which of us were sweet and savory– don't you know how questions work?"

“Very well,” He replies, removing his face from your taunting grasp. “Favorite Pringles flavor?”

“Sour cream and onion.”

“I thought you were sweet,”

You roll your eyes, ignoring his quip, “Go-to takeout?”

“Pizza. And boba. Favorite movie?”

“It has to be any of Wes Anderson’s movies. Oh wait! Ghibli, too,” You nod your head momentarily. “You?”

“Say Something for sure. A classic.” Answers Xiaoshi with his whole chest, nodding with a proud smile. You stay quiet, lips thinned and fingers retreating to play with the sleeve of his sweater. It takes the boy a moment to fully digest the look you wear: one of a little embarrassment and guilt.

“No.” He gasps. “You’ve never watched Say Something?” There’s a shock and what sounds to you a small bit of hurt (feigned, of course). Wordless, you answer with a shake of your head. He presses the back of his palm against his forehead, faking a faint as he falls back against his chair.

“You’ve wounded me, Y/N. Look at me, a dead man!” You scoff, nudging his knee with yours under the table, and it sends a little electricity through him. “Stop being so dramatic! You’ll get over it.”

“Anyways, what’s the daily agenda of the oh-so-popular golden boy, hm?” You ask. Xiaoshi, still slouched back into his chair, gives you a questioning look, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you have a lot of friends. A lot of friends mean a lot of plans. A lot of basketball games, a lot of karaoke runs, a lot of parties. Am I right?”

The look the boy gives you says you’re absolutely wrong. He stays silent for a moment, spending his time to think as he watches your expression fall from a smile to one of a lost thought. “I don’t have a lot of friends, Y/N,” He admits. “I just know a lot of people. I don’t take anyone out to a food truck burrito run.”

Your stomach caves in at the way he regards you. Or rather, the fact that he emphasized the fact that he treated you differently.

“And I don’t party. Well- okay, I’ve been to a few, but it’s not my type of genre, you feel me?” Xiaoshi’s hands press together and he looks at you a certain way as if waiting for your verdict.

“Oh.” Is all you can say. You’re surprised. But something in you tells you that you shouldn’t be, because he’s literally eating burritos with you right now. Why on earth would he hang out with you if he had other friends to spend time with?

“You seem disappointed.” He deadpans. Immediately, you shake your hands and head at him, denying fervently. “No, no, no, not like that! It just seemed like you were a big party person.” You confess with a certain tone in your voice, one of slight remorse. “It’s… surprising you’d hang out with me, actually. But it’s nice of you to. I like spending time with you.”

You bloom a certain warmth in Xiaoshi’s chest. It swirls and spirals, accumulating enough to just burst out of his abdomen. He feels as if he’s about to float. All the fall cold that had been itching its way past his layers and onto his skin had just melted away merely by the heat he radiated after hearing you say that you’d enjoyed spending time with him. He feels like he could fly and fall at the same time, but he thinks he prefers falling if you’re there to catch him in the end.

Oh. This is bad. This is really, really bad. Here, in the cold hour of 3.27 PM, on a table that you’d just shared burritos with, the realization that Cheng Xiaoshi had fallen in love with you just hit him.

Though, it doesn’t really seem bad anymore. Falling in love in front of a food truck could be romantic, right? It doesn’t really matter to him. Not when his mouth parts, voice lumped and stuck in his throat as he attempts to tell you how sudden and how hard you’d just made him fall in love with you. He wants to tell you in the form of words; in the form of touch; in the form of mingling breaths and intertwined fingers; in the form of his palm pressed against the skin of your jaw, drawing you closer as his whispers fan the lobe of your ear.

But, no. All that comes out is a quiet, shaky:

“I like spending time with you. Too.”

You wear a smile. Then you give him a small, but bashful and shy laugh. He thinks he might die at the sight. Cheng Xiaoshi wants nothing in the world right now but to hold you in his arms– or be held in your arms. Either way, as long as his skin is pressed against yours, he’s all for it. He wants you to run your fingers through his hair, for his head to rest on the soft flesh of your thighs or arms or frankly any limb you’d be willing to offer to him because god your touch looks just too good to waste.

But he knows he can’t. Not now. Not when you’re telling him to ask you a question and when he does, it’s a dumb, shallow, vague one that you answer with heart and mind anyway because you care about this game. You care about getting to know him. That’s what makes you worth every bit of love this universe has to offer, he thinks.

“That’s enough,” You groan, staring into a street light– which you really shouldn’t, because it’s illuminating light shines and blinds directly into your eyes, and you groan everytime that happens.

“One more,” Pants Xiaoshi, picking up the round and faded basketball, dribbling it past the 3-point indicator line. He repositions himself, his knees bending just slightly as he adjusts his aim. With a jump, he stretches his arms out, the ball flying out of his hand and traveling right through the center of the ring.

Xiaoshi sings a little ‘whoop!’ as he jogs over to you.

You’re laid out on the court floor, bored out of your mind as you start staring straight at the streetlight just to feel a little entertained. You fiddle with the boy’s bottle in both your hands, and he lends down to pick it out of your hands, sounding a thank you, though you don’t respond.

Xiaoshi sits by your feet, tilting his head at your lack of response. “Sweets? You good?”

That damned nickname. Ever since he’d forced you to bail and went to get burritos with you, it was all he ever called you. Not like you’re complaining, but how could he frankly expect you to return a verbal, sane response after what’s practically a couple’s pet name?

But you do respond, of course, throwing a thumbs up his way as you nudge him with your shoe.

“You know,” Xiaoshi starts, setting his bottle down to lay down next to you. This doesn’t help your case at all, your body tingling when his hand brushes against yours during the action. “You can just go home. You don’t have to stay with me while I practice.”

“Nuh-uh,” You reply, shaking a finger at him. “I’m like, officially your number one fan. Who else would be your fanclub president if not me?”

“I’m just saying, a fan doesn’t spend hours with their idols. They always say: ‘never meet your idols.’” Xiaoshi shrugs, and you can feel his arm brushing up against your uniform. It makes you nervous. Nevertheless, you face him, stomach churning when he mimics you, your noses nearly touching at the close proximity.

“You’re not so bad to meet.”

Xiaoshi doesn’t think you know just how crazy you make him feel. His heart beats faster and more rapidly than when he was shooting hoops and doing drills. He lets a moment pass by, the air settling as he counts how many times he can feel your breath brush his chin.

“Neither are you.”

You smile. He can see your teeth a little. Your cheeks puff out and your lips stretch in a nice way that makes him want to kiss you until you can’t breathe.

But he can’t do that.

Not when you’re sitting up and patting his thigh and urging him to walk you home. Not when you hand him his bottle and brush the dirt off his sweater that you still haven’t returned (but he doesn’t mind because it just means in the ultimate time you do, it’ll smell like you). Not when he carries both your backpacks and pats a beat against yours that he has pressed to his chest.

But he really wants to, though.

There’s a little bounce in your step as you walk a few feet ahead of him, cooing at how much faster at walking you are than a basketball player, but he’s really just staying behind because he likes watching you walk.

Suddenly, there’s a lump in his throat. He attempts to swallow it down. It doesn’t work. He wonders what it is, but he doesn’t think he cares because you rub your hands together with the sleeves of his hoodie and he likes the sight of it. But whatever it is, it’s bubbling and rising and it tastes weird in the back of his mouth.

Suddenly it spills out. The words spill out.

You’d stopped in your tracks, turning around slowly at him with a shocked expression.

Shit! What had he said?

“What?” It seems you don’t know either, because you tilt your head at him (and he thinks it's adorable) and ask him to repeat what he’d said. Xiaoshi shakes his head, “Wait, I blanked out. What did I say?” 

“You screamed something along the lines of ‘date and say something.’”

Oh shit. Cheng Xiaoshi had asked you out on a date unconsciously.

“Oh, there’s, uh, a showing of Say Something in the local theater. They like to rerun old films. No one really goes there, anymore, so we don’t have to if you don’t want to-”

“No!” You suddenly yell, and for some reason, you both jump. “I’d really, really like to see Say Something with you. Y’know, since you were so hurt by the fact that I haven’t watched it.”

There it is again. The blooming in his chest. It’s crazy he hasn’t fallen into a cardiac arrest yet. You smile at him, and he finds it contagious, smiling back even harder. You tell him something about you having to hurry home and telling him to hurry, and he does. He runs with you, the two backpacks that had just weighed him down now feeling weightless as they bounce against his back and chest because he’s jogging down a hill towards your house.

iv. unsaid.

Cheng Xiaoshi is dressed in his best pair of jeans and his favorite bomber jacket layered with a sweater underneath– he hopes you aren’t wearing anything thick enough so he could lend this one to you too, as stupid as the idea is.

He spends a solid five minutes in front of the mirror, telling himself many things:

“You got this.”

“Don’t screw up.”

“Act cool.”

“Do not screw it up.”

He takes one last good look at himself, huffing as he smooths the collar of his sweater, unable to rest at the thought of spending a night alone with you in what will most likely be a deserted theater. Nothing to screw up there.

Grabbing the house keys– because both Qiao Ling and Lu Guang had better plans to do rather than stay at home and help Xiaoshi get ready after he begged the both of them to– and stuffing them into the pocket of his bomber jacket, he repeats the three crucial words to himself over and over: “Don’t screw up.”

There’s not one thought running through his mind that’s not about you as he twists at the doorknob, mindlessly stepping out and turning around to lock the front door. Completely disregarding the fact that his teammates are pulled up in a red camaro in front of his house, Xiaoshi doesn’t think twice about immediately turning to the direction of the theater.

“Hey, Cheng Xiaoshi!”

Shocked, the said boy’s shoulders shrug up as he turns around, feet almost stumbling against the small bit of ice that had frozen on the pavement overnight. “Oh- hey! What are you doing here?”

“Giving you a ride to Hu’s, what else?”

Oh shit. Cheng Xiaoshi had completely forgotten about the pregame party he’d been invited to. Of course, he had no intention to go. But his teammates are stubborn, too stubborn.

“Sorry, guys, I can’t make it tonight.” Replies Xiaoshi, trying his best to sound guilty. One of them tilts his head, looks him up and down and asks: “Where else are you going, dressed like that?”

“I’ve… got a date.”

“Ah, come on!” His teammate scoffs, waving his hand in the air. “You can’t win yourself plenty of dates at the party. What’s one?”

One is with you. He can’t really afford to miss it, not for the world. Xiaoshi shrugs, turning around as he tells them: “Sorry, I can’t just stand someone up like that.”

“How do you know they’re not at the party? Can’t you just invite them there, whoever you’re going out with?”

Jesus. It’s not that easy, is it? Xiaoshi isn’t the golden boy they make him out to be. Their Xiaoshi was hand crafted and molded by their standards of a tall, charming basketball player that had many admirers. A porcelain that’s hollow inside. Hollow and filled with echoes of what they claim him to be. A player, a charmer, and MVP.

Almost all his life, Xiaoshi had been living to fit what everyone wants and expects him to be. And though he really, really wants to break through that porcelain and completely deny what they demand, he doesn’t think he has the strength to do that. Not even now, as his mind races with thoughts about you: how you look waiting for him in front of the theater, how you smell of cinnamon and gingerbread because you’d been making cookies with your mother at home, how warm you feel as you sit next to him, your arm pressed up against his. 

Xiaoshi can hear his teammates begging him to come, and he absolutely despises it. Despises how his chest aches with guilt because his friends just want him to have fun with them.

He turns around, gives them a serious, pointed look, “Ten minutes, and then you drive me to the theater. Got it?”

“Got it! You’re the best, Cheng Xiaoshi!”

The tip of your nose is numb and you rub it in hopes that its sense will return. The theater is open and its warmth lures you in to welcome you, but you don’t want to enter before meeting with Xiaoshi.

You bring the collar of the hoodie you wear up to your chin, closing your eyes shut as if it’d help. It doesn’t. Taking out your phone from your pocket, on its screen projects the fact that Xiaoshi is ten minutes late. Your stomach drops, but you scold yourself for it, refusing to think lowly of Xiaoshi.

He’s going to show up any second now, sweating although it’s extremely cold out, nearly slipping on ice as he spits a spew of feverish apologies, cheeks dusted pink because of the cold. And you’re going to lean up, swipe a few snowflakes out of his hair and reassure him that you hadn’t been waiting too long. He’s going to lead you inside, take you by the arm and sit you right next to him in the warm seats of the theater, and whisper a few words in your ear; something along the lines of “you’ll love this movie, I promise you” or “you’re going to see what I was dying about, sweets.”

And he’s going to call you that name. That god-forbidden name that shouldn’t make you absolutely melt into an icky, thick puddle because it’s generic and commonly used in western movies. But it does. He does. Cheng Xiaoshi makes you melt as if you’re stuck in the summer, when you first met him, the electricity he sent when he’d handed you your book and your fingers brushed still humming through your fingers until now.

But he doesn’t.

You wait another ten minutes, then twenty, then thirty. A solid hour had passed and you’re still left outside in the cold, shaking and jittering as you constantly check your phone for any sign of him.

The old janitor had spotted you and called you to enter many times, but every time you informed him: “I’m waiting for someone.”

And he responds: “I hope this someone is worth waiting in the cold for.”

And typically, you’d completely agree with the statement. But now, as nearly all your limbs are frozen from either the cold or from standing for a solid hour, you don’t think you can agree with it. Not when your hopes had been so incredibly high. Not when you’d spent the whole day getting ready both mentally and physically. Not when your mother kissed the crown of your head and reassured you of the fact that this night was going to be as warm and as welcoming and as safe as it was in every other season.

No. The cold bites at your skin and you grow bitter and tired and cold.

“You promised me you would drive me to the theater.”

“Do I look like I’m in the condition to drive?”

Xiaoshi wants to punch this guy. Square in the jaw, or nose, or frankly anywhere. With the way he’s slurring his words and swinging his drink around in his hand makes himself practically a target with a big red circle in his face. But he knows better. Especially when he knows something as worth it as you awaits for him later.

“Okay,” Replies Xiaoshi, holding back the urge to roll his eyes as he sets his friend down on the couch. “You take it easy, alright cap? I gotta head out.”

“What? No! If this is about your stupid date, I swear to god we can find you one here that’s probably better than wherever you originally planned to be tonight.”

Okay, this guy was really testing his limits. Xiaoshi’s hands fist at his sides and he gives him a look, a dangerous one that no one had ever seen him wear. After a moment of contemplation, his teammate finally groans, waving with his hand, “Fine, bye. Go have fun on that super fun date.”

Xiaoshi doesn’t spare anyone one second to greet them goodbye, he grabs his bomber jacket that had been hung up on a coat hanger and immediately sprints out of the house, nearly tripping over the ice and the snow because Hu hadn’t shoveled his damn driveway and he can barely see because the sun had already disappeared.

“Shit, shit, shit.” The one thing Xiaoshi had to do was to not screw it up. What had happened? He screwed it up, because he’s such a damn people pleaser he can’t make one decision for himself.

The theater is a solid half an hour away on foot from Hu’s, but Xiaoshi made it in 10. His stomach drops and his head spins when he suddenly stops to a halt, his heels skidding against the ice against the pavement. You’re not here. You don’t stand in front of the theater like he’d imagined, and he thinks he wants to scream.

He rushes inside, breathless, searching frantically everywhere and calling out your name.

“If yer the fella that lovely one’s been waitin’ for,” An elderly suddenly speaks, his voice seemingly echoing and ricocheting against the walls of the theater, though it was built to be soundproof. “They’ve just gone. Probably still a block or two away.”

Xiaoshi mutters a quick thank you and wastes absolutely no time in sprinting, nearly falling to his knees when he takes a sharp turn to the left. And there you were, walking with a sullen face underneath a streetlamp.

This part of town was one of the first sections to be built, so many of the antique streetlights are either too dim to see, or have completely died. But the one you stand under illuminates brightly, showing your breath dissipating in the air as you heave a sigh.

His feet act before he thinks. He runs through the snow, the crunch against ice alerting you when he’s nearly a few feet away from you. You don’t want to look. Not when there are tears brimming your eyes.

“Y/N, I’m-” Xiaoshi is completely winded– not because he’d just sprinted nearly across town, but because he can see he had clearly hurt you. He can’t tell how long you’d been waiting for him, but considering the sour look you give him, he assumes you’d been waiting a long time, and he aches inside.

“I’m sorry.”

That’s all he can say. All that he’s willing to say. He’s afraid that if he let out any more, it’d escalate and he’d be going on and on about how deep in love he is with you and how much remorse in him there is right now and how much self poison is boiling in his stomach, bubbling and popping nearly out of his throat.

You look at him dead in the eye. Though he’d made you wait all that time, you don’t think you can look at him as if he had done you wrong. You look at him as if you try to understand him and what he’s going through– because you want to. You want to look at him like you hate him, and you want to say it too, but you can’t help but do the opposite.

“I love you, Cheng Xiaoshi.” You let out, and the boy twitches, as if you’d snapped something in him. But he’s still wordless, and you think you hate that.

“I love you, like a lot. And I’m not going to let one mishap get in the way of our friendship over these months. But waiting for you, out there, in the cold and in the snow, I felt embarrassed. Like I was throwing away my time– and maybe I was.” Tears flow down from the rims of your eyes and trail down your cheeks. Though it’s nearly a negative temperature out, your tears are hot against your skin. They’re hot and boiling and filled with both love and hatred.

Suddenly, you step forward and hit him in the chest. He lets you. You do it again, a sound escaping you. “Where were you? You better tell me the damn truth.” You spit.

“I was at a party.” Answers Xiaoshi with no hesitation. It just came out. He wants to explain about how his asshole teammates that he can’t believe he’d called his friends forced him into coming and refused to let him go anywhere else, but his body doesn’t let him.

You let out a laugh, one of disbelief. “You are the school’s golden boy, aren’t you? You are every little stereotype they call you. You’re charming, you’re handsome. You’re friendly.” You pause, letting out a shaky breath. “You’re a liar.”

“No,” Whispers Xiaoshi, though strained. You shake your head at him. “You’re a liar and a thief.” He’d stolen your heart, afterall, “You’re the golden boy. And I hate that I’ve learned to love every part of you, even the ones that hurt me.”

You want to turn around a walk away, but a part of you forces you to stay. Forces you to look him in the eye, forces a little bit of hope into your chest as he looks back at you. His mouth parts, and something in you jumps.

"I'm... sorry."

You don't know what he's sorry for: leaving you to wait for him in the snow for an hour, or you loving him. You don't want to find out, nodding as you bite the flesh on the inside of your cheek, resisting the tears that urge to fall from your eyes.

You’re walking away now. He hadn’t fully processed it, but as you're walking away, he can make out the crunch of the snow under your feet, and the sounds of your sniffles traveling away, further and further. His fingers twitch.

He screwed up. He always screws up. 

But he can’t believe he’d screwed up in telling you how much he loved you. How much he’d wanted to reach out and caress you, whisper apologies in his ear in every form he has to offer. How much he was willing to bet he loved you more than anyone could love him.

Cheng Xiaoshi is always one to leave things unsaid, because in most cases it’s better if he does. But he’s become so conditioned to it that in times like this, his body is not his own anymore, and what he wants to say doesn’t come out, and what he wants to do doesn’t happen.

He can still see your silhouette under another streetlight shining, or maybe it’s just a light that follows you. And as much as he hated it, Xiaoshi had noticed that even when you beat at his chest, crying and overflowing with tears, you still felt warm. He doesn’t think he deserves to feel that warmth anymore.

v. winner, winner, chicken dinner!

You don’t know what you’re doing. Legs pressed up against your chest, you bite at your nails as your free hand hovers over the spacebar key of your laptop. The opening scene of the wretched movie ‘Say Something’ is projected across your screen and you fully intend on watching it, as much as it hurts you. A film or a memory to hold on to because Cheng Xiaoshi will not be wanting to see you anymore.

And as the film introduces its main character, Lloyd Dobler, you hate the fact that he reminds you so much of him. Just a big and strong guy that doesn’t stop chasing this girl that he likes– though you don’t think you could play the role of Diane. Not in this story.

Cheng Xiaoshi is like Lloyd Dobler in many ways. He’s not the brightest, but he’s loyal. He loves his family. He can’t keep still. In some cases, you even think he can box, too. He’s supportive of those he keeps close to him. He’d rather live in the moment, and can barely think about the future without letting his mouth run about what he thinks of his future.

And you hate that you know all this, because you still love him. You know you shouldn’t, because he practically rejected you with that last apology, but god, was it hard to hate someone like him.

He’s the golden boy. Shiny and untouchable.

You’re honestly surprised you let your feelings brew this much before realizing that he is untouchable. And it’ll always remain that way.

You’ve reached the part of the movie where Diane and Lloyd kiss after she’d led him to nearly break his nose, whispering apologies and reasons why she loves him and needs him. You ache inside. Bitter, you huff and close your laptop shut (a little too harshly) and bury your face into the covers of your bed, wanting nothing but to scream. And you do, and it creates this wet spot on your pillow but you’re too miserable to feel disgusted and wipe it away.

As much as Xiaoshi reminded you of Lloyd, he was Diane in this situation. He’d hurt you and left you to fend for yourself.

It is officially spring and a solid week before Xiaoshi plays against what might be the nation’s best high school basketball team, and he’s worried completely about something else. His arms stretch up and he shoots the firm basketball out of his palms, grimacing when it all but just bounces off the rim of the ring.

Shit.

This is not good. Why the hell was he here, anyway? He should be jogging to your house, knocking on every crevice because you’d refuse to open the front door for him. He should be climbing up to your window, looking at you with desperate eyes and tell you how much he loves you and how much he doesn’t deserve to be loved by you.

As it happens, he doesn’t believe you in fact love him. Not as much as he adores you, at least, because he finds himself utterly unlovable yet that’s the one thing he asks of you. To be loved, to be held, to be comforted and appreciated.

Xiaoshi can’t make his mind up and he’s extremely furious at himself for it. This is no love or hate situation, but he can’t help the latter. The hate. Not towards you, but towards himself. There’s no way in this world anyone could convince him he could be loved as much as he loved– and yet, you did. You convinced him one winter night, where the first snowfall had happened.

Something so sweet and innocent, ruined by tragedy and his stupidity.

“Hey.” Xiaoshi is startled out of his inattentive state with a firm hand smacked to his shoulder. “You alright, man? You aren’t looking good these days.” Though his teammate voices clear concern, it’s obvious he only cares because of an upcoming game that Xiaoshi really needs his head in the game for.

“I’m good,” Answers Xiaoshi, brushing his hand off with a hollow smile. “Just bad sleep.”

Bad sleep, his ass. Bad sleep, anyone's ass! He couldn’t get a wink of sleep because he’s always up thinking about you, about what he should have said to you on that winter night.

Cheng Xiaoshi’s chest beats erratically in his chest, and he can’t tell if it's pre-game shivers or the fact that you’re sitting on a bleacher next to Lu Guang and Qiao Ling, clad in the sweater you still haven’t returned since autumn. He hadn’t seen or talked to you since the day he tried to apologize. He was convinced you’d hate his guts– but here you were. He knows you’re not the type of person to hold an argument like that to heart, but you’d still avoided him the whole half month he tried to reach out to you in the halls or through your number.

Frankly, you don’t even know why you’re here, either. Xiaoshi had rejected you (though he really doesn’t realize you think so): shouldn’t that be enough of a hint for you to back off?

“There he is,” Qiao Ling mentions as the basketball team makes their way onto the court. As you turn to watch said team, Xiaoshi’s eyes meet yours for a brief second, and you can clearly read the surprise in them, but ignore it with thinned lips as you tear your gaze from him, electing that striking up a conversation with Lu Guang would ease the harsh thumping against your chest.

“I don’t get it; why didn’t you join the team?” You ask Lu Guang, his lowly-lidded eyes examining the opposing team. “Sure, I’m good,” He says, blunt. “But I play purely for fun. Plus, I don’t like getting too sweaty.”

“Please, don’t you know how many more people would fawn over you if they knew you were smart and skilled in sports?”

“I am not skilled in sports. Plus, that’s just more of a reason for me not to join. I don’t like people.”

Wow. A very Lu Guang thing to say coming from the boy himself.

“Aren’t they the team that made it to nationals last year?” Gasps Qiao Ling as she swings an arm around your shoulder, urging you to look with her. With your shoulder pressed against hers, you do in fact recognize the logo and jerseys from the sports channel you’d distinctly watched last year– your classmate had made you watch it with him.

Qiao Ling mutters a small, quiet curse under her breath, “You think he can beat them?”

Without a beat or a second of hesitation, you answer firmly: “Yeah.”

The older girl turns and gives you a look, and you roll your eyes at her, “I’ve seen the boy play. Surely you have, too,”

“Yeah, but, you answered in like, a heartbeat.”

“He’s like, a basketball god, Qiao Ling. He’s not the golden boy for no reason.”

You hate the fact that you admit it, even though you’ve said it nearly a million times before. Qiao Ling is about to say something, but the two, very bold, student commentators cut her sentence short with a brief introduction to the match and each team player.

Your mind blanks. You can hear cheering from both the students of your school and the opposing school. The commentators introduce their MVP first: Xiaoshi. He wears a shy smile as he jogs to the center of the court, bowing politely. You can’t help but smile a little at his bashful behavior. And for a moment, you think he looks at you. You can’t tell by the students’ waving arms in front of you nearly blocking your vision. But even if he did or not, your heart nearly pauses for a second, and your hearing becomes faded and warped– as if you were underwater. 

All you can hear now is your slow breathing, your heartbeat; all you can feel is the warmth you relish in as you wear his sweater, even though it’s spring and unnecessary.

And then he takes a look at the other side of the bleachers, smiling brightly when his friends from sociology cheer his name like fanboys.

Qiao Ling comments something about the biggest player on the opposing team and you nod, though you didn’t really fully comprehend what she’d said.

Xiaoshi is completely short of breath and he hadn’t even started playing. He tries to convince himself it’s because nearly the whole crowd had cheered him on, but he knows better. The one fleeting second he had stolen just to look at you left him dazed and he doesn’t think he can play if you’re going to be looking at him like that the whole time.

Standing in the center, the match begins with a loudd whistle from the referee, andd suddenly everything around him is moving rapidly. The muscles of his legs force him to move and suddenly he’s jogging past an opponent, his arm stretching out and waving for the ball.

Every part of his body that functions right now is running off of pure adrenaline and muscle memory, his mind still in a fuzzy haze that clears slowly. He suddenly feels the rough edge of the ball in his hand. His fingers trace and grip along the leather material of the basketball, and in pure instinct, his knees bend low and his hands dribble the ball like it was as easy as breathing.

Swift and nearly too quick to miss, Xiaoshi races across the court with the ball bouncing in his hand, and he runs up to the ring, jumping and scoring a point for his team with a right hand layup.

The crowd screams. The haze that had clouded Xiaoshi’s mind fades and clears, and with a bright, toothy grin, he turns immediately to your side of the bleachers, meeting eyes with you. 

You, who’s stunned and hands cover your mouth because the whole thing had happened so fast and so early within the game. You, who doesn’t look away this time, but instead cups your hands around your mouth as you shout: “Go, Cheng Xiaoshi!” You, who can’t help but let out a joyous laugh when he throws two thumbs up in the air, winking. The crowd goes wild over the sight, chanting his name over and over.

For the remainder of the match, Xiaoshi scores and scores and scores, and everytime he spins to look at you. And when you cheer for him, he feels like the energy he had just exerted throughout the game was recharged and even doubled. You look at him with a toothy grin, throwing a thumb-up at him, and he literally thinks the whole world revolves around him and the fact that you just gave him one.

There’s one last minute left of the game. The entire gymnasium is quiet, save for the players’ quick pants and sneakers squeaking under the polished wood. Your breath is bated, and you don’t know whether to watch the ball, the opponents, or Xiaoshi. The ball flies from one teammate’s grasp to another and every time it does

 your fingers stretch and flinch a little and even muscle and bone in your body pauses. It’s frankly killing you.

The ball travels between at least every player on the team, until it eventually falls into the hands of Cheng Xiaoshi.

With 10 seconds to his name, the boy aims, his breath cutting short in his throat, his knees bending naturally as he prepares himself to shoot. And then his fingers flex, and the ball flies out of his hands, traveling gracefully yet painstakingly in the air. It bounces against the rim once. Then twice.

You think it’s going to bounce again one more time, but you’re wrong because Lu Guang exhales just a split second the orange leathery ball rolls through the ring. He’d known. He could tell already.

You’re shocked.

But you don’t have time to be, because after at least 5 seconds worth of silence, the entire gymnasium erupts in cheers and everyone around you is standing up, save for Lu Guang who wears a rare smile.

Qiao Ling grabs onto your arm and shakes it, jumping with her eyes shut as she yells: “Holy shit- we won!”

Holy shit. They won. We won. He won.

Grabbing onto her two hands with your own, you jump up and down with her, at some point grabbing onto Lu Guang’s hand and nearly forcing him to bounce with the both of you.

Xiaoshi, from below, watches as the three of you celebrate, his face warming when he sees you mouth the words: “Oh my god” over and over again. Although the entire team and nearly the entire student body that had come to watch rushed down to him, he had zero intentions with anyone else. All he wanted to do right now was be with you, letting you hold his hand as you tell him how crazy his last shot had been.

But he can’t, because his legs turn jelly and the adrenaline that had been piloting him the whole time is suddenly shut off. The team captain swings his arm around Xiaoshi’s shoulders, yelling, “To our MVP!” But everything feels and sounds warped to the said boy.

“Don’t miss out on the post-game party!”

Great, thinks Xiaoshi. Another party to get mad at my friends at. Though, he’s convinced even you might be there, so he might just go.

“Post-game party?” You repeat, turning to both your friends. “Are you guys going?”

“Obviously not.”

“Yeah, I am.”

Lu Guang and Qiao Ling both give each other looks due to the difference in answers, and it almost cracks you up. The girl turns to you, her expression hopeful, but you almost immediately shake your head at her, “Sorry, you know I’m not a party person.”

“But come for me!”

“I already attended this game for you!”

“Okay, fair,” Hums Qiao Ling, her finger tapping against her cheek before she sighs with a click of her tongue. “Fine, have fun, you cozy homebodies!”

“We will.” Answers Lu Guang as you both watch her walk away with a friend that had called her over. The boy turns to you, “You,” he plants his hand to your shoulder, and you almost shiver. You’d never seen this look on his face. It almost seems… conflicted. “You’d better make things right with Xiaoshi. Please. He keeps whining about trying to think of ways to make it up to you.”

“To make it up to me? I’m in the wrong here, am I not?”

“You think so?” Lu Guang’s voice is graced with slight sarcasm, and you think you like it that way. You nod, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“...this is a conversation you should be having with Xiaoshi.”

After sending you an encouraging squeeze to the shoulder and a gentle , tight-lipped smile, Lu Guang descends from the bleachers, swiping through the crowd almost too easily. You watch him, chest growing heavier yet lighter at the same time at the mere thought of talking to Xiaoshi again after months of avoiding each other and exams and basketball.

You don’t think you can bear it, frankly, but you feel like it’s a tide. It’s slow but inevitable. As you step down from the bleachers, you look back at the center of the court, where the basketball team has a brief talk with the coach, and through the many figures of his teammates, Xiaoshi still somehow meets eyes with you, his shining in something you can’t figure out yet.

You let yourself linger, counting as your heart skips a beat or two, before tearing away, heaving a sigh you hadn’t meant to hold in.

Xiaoshi’s knee jumps up and down as he can barely watch you exit the court hall, holding back a whine because his coach is taking too long in debriefing and congratulating. He wipes at his browline, looking to the ceiling lights and squinting, attempting to ease the eagerness in him to just run after you.

And then he realizes: he’d been resisting to this whole half semester, why should he now? He’s earned it.

“And don’t forget your defense transitio-”

“Hey, coach?”

Xiaoshi interjects with a finger stuck up in the air, pulling his hair back with his other palm. His teacher, a little stunned, replies with a quiet ‘yes?’ and it takes nearly everything in the boy not to jump up from his spot on the polished floors.

“I need to go to the bathroom. Like, really, really bad.”

“...right now?”

“Yes, right now. I can’t hold it in, teach,”

Well, that’s half true. The coach looks at him, slightly humored as he waves a sign of permission with the back of his palm.

Immediately, he springs up to his feet, wasting no time in sprinting straight through the door and narrowly passing students taking their time in the hall.

Xiaoshi never realized how fast you walked, because within that minute of holding back in the court, you’d made it to the gates by the time he spotted you. The place is strangely deserted, but that’s probably because everyone is taking the way behind the school to get to the post-game party in the woods. Your hands are jammed into the pouch of his hoodie and you watch your feet as you move, and anyone could tell there was something troubling you just by looking at you.

Your name is stuck in his throat. He wants to yell for you, call out to you and just grab and engulf you in his arms, but he doesn’t want to scare you. It’s 8PM and he knows how jumpy you get when you’re out at night.

Instead, he lightly jogs behind you, nimble fingers stretching out to just barely graze his hoodie you wear. Though he’d barely touched anything, you stop almost promptly, feet planted right next to each other as you listen to the sound of the soles of Xiaoshi’s shoes scraping to a stop against the pavement ground.

“...Y/N.”

The sound of your name escaping his lips makes you inhale sharply, and you’re hesitant to turn around. But you do anyway, because there’s a pulling force gravitating you towards him, like the moon and the earth. The first part of him you see are his pair of jordans, slightly worn out with a loose yarn by the tongue of the shoe. Then you spot his knees, taking notice of how they’re a little darker than the rest of his legs, littered by a scab or two. His fingers clench and unclench in fists, and his elbows nearly lift towards you, and you’d let full heartedly let him hug you– you think you want him to right now.

“Xiaoshi.” You finally breathe back, nearly everything in you shivering once you meet his gaze. He looks at you as if full of remorse and want, and it shakes something in you.

“I missed you, sweets.” He says, voice hoarse and quiet. You nearly erupt in butterflies or honey bees or whatever bug invades your stomach that he never fails to elicit in you. His fingers stretch and pause in the air for a brief moment, before they settle, your sleeve pinched between his grip. He tugs a little, just a little, and yet it feels as if that alone had brought everything pieced together– his words to you, your feelings for him, his breath fanning your forehead as he breathes out a sigh.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” You say, but this time you look at him and you mean it and it hurts him. “I’m sorry I told you how I felt about you with no regard to how you would feel. And for calling you a liar. And a thief.” The last parts come out in a guilty whisper, like a child confessing to their wrongdoing. “You have every right to tell me to get out of your face– and your life– and to not want to speak to me ever again.”

The air is thick when you finish, but Xiaoshi doesn’t let go of your sleeve. In fact, you think he grips it tighter, now in all five fingers instead of just the two.

“Actually,” You cough. “Frankly, I’m a liar. I-I said I wasted my time waiting for you. But I was wrong. Actually, I can’t believe I ever said that. You are worth… everything. Everything this universe— and I have to offer. You give so much to this world, you’re changing lives! And nothing, and I mean nothing can ever amount to waste when it comes to you.” You look up at him, your fingers tracing around and holding his wrist.

“I’m sorry.” And though you’d already said it earlier, the sound of your voice and the look in your eyes portray the exact same kind of apology Xiaoshi had given you that night. “You are a thief, though,” You laugh through bitterness, the confused tilt of his head far too adorable for you to hate it. “You’re a dirty thief for stealing the stupid, little thing in my chest that beats only when you’re around.”

Xiaoshi’s head might just explode at the load you’d just chucked at him with your own bare fist. The feeling of your fingers loosely hanging around his wrist that grips at your hoodie prickles and gives him a small shockwave– the nice one you always give him when your skin touches his.

“...you really don’t expect me to take without giving back, do you?”

“Huh?”

Suddenly you’re wrapped in Xiaoshi’s firm grip, his arms gripping around your waist and his chin tucked right on top of the crown of your head. “You’re so stupid sometimes, Y/N.” He sighs, the vibrations of his chest as he speaks ricocheting through you like echoes.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You can’t help but argue into his clothed shoulder, drooping your arms around his chest. “That’s rich coming from Mr. 50 points on his last math quiz.”

Xiaoshi pinches your sides lightly at your quick retort and you jump with a gasp, smacking his shoulder when he laughs. His scent, his warmth, his touch. you’re so relieved to feel all again. He sways you slowly from side to side, breath steadying but his heart still beating as fast as a racer’s– and you can feel it faintly when your cheek presses up against him.

There’s nothing to stop the both of you as you hold each other close. The rays of the sun become cooler as it sets, painting the skies several hues of pink and orange. Your shoes are pressed against his, his two feet planted on either side of yours, nearly completely engulfing you in him.

“I’m so madly in love with you, Y/N,” Xiaoshi finally says, though it really just… escaped him. You freeze against him and it forces him to slow the swaying to a halt, and it scares him. Your fingers bunch into the material of his jersey and you pull away, something unreadable swimming and wavering in your eyes as you ask him, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“You’re not telling me this because you feel like you need to like me back?”

“No, not at all.”

You want to say something, be firm with him, but your throat betrays you as you let out a broken whisper:

“You better not be playing with me right now, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

The boy’s hands, leaving your sides, trail up your neck and rest at both sides of your face, fingers pressed against the base of your jaw. His thumb swipes at your cheekbones, then the outer lines of your eyes, and then they follow the lengths of your eyebrows. His right thumb traces down your nose bridge, then presses firmly against the button of your nose, wiggling and eliciting a small breathy laugh out of you.

Then, slowly– almost too slowly–, he lets the pad of his thumb feel down the underside of your nose, then the crease above your lips. He looks at your mouth, a burning feeling of want brewing in him as he presses his lips together.

Your lips part just a little, to let out an expecting breath, then they close as you gaze up at him, your eyes watching how his scrutinizes your face.

“I love you.”

“What?”

“I love you.” Xiaoshi says again, firm this time. You give him a smile, shaking your head. “No, what?” And then it clicks. He grins, chest puffing out a little at the reference you make.

The fact that you’d still watched Say Something meant a lot to him. It proved how much of an impact your little gestures make in his life.

“I love you. How many times do I have to say it?”

“One more time would be nice.” You hum, and he laughs, pressing his forehead against yours. “I love you.” He whispers, his voice little as he relishes the feeling of your skin pressed on his.

“You’re so incredibly pretty, Y/ L/N, I could just kiss you right now.”

“You’re so incredibly pretty, Cheng Xioashi, that I might just let you.”

Oh. Xiaoshi can’t seem to believe you’d just said that. “Wh- are you- are you sure? I mean, after all I’ve done– I stood you up! I ghosted you for half a semester. I don’t think it’s right. For me. To have the pleasure of planting my lips to yours. Frankly, I wouldn’t even want to kiss a guy who- oh!”

Seemingly growing tired of his rambling, your hand presses against his cheek and you stand on the tips of your toes to give him a gentle kiss, his lips molding to yours almost immediately. He smiles and when you pull away, he’s quick to pull you close by the neck, kissing you again, then again, then again.

His lips, though you’d imagined they’d be scorched and hot, are warm. Not temperature wise, but warm in an inviting way, like toasted marshmallows in hot chocolate. Or like fresh burritos in autumn. Or like the summer sun where you share a milkshake in the outdoor canteen. Like home.

Xiaoshi hums when he manages to steal you with a kiss again, and you can’t help but grin against him, murmuring against his lips, “You’re so stupid.”

“I’m your stupid.” He shoots back, lips chasing yours when you finally part from him. You bring a hand up to his mouth and it’s moist and warm, “Give me a break! We need to breathe, Xiaoshi,”

In response, he breathes out a heavy sigh, the weight on his back he’d carried for two months vanishing as he melts into your shoulder. “You don’t understand how lucky I am to be with you right now.”

“I’m not all that special-”

“You are! It may not seem like it to you, but to me, you’re everything. My energy, my breath, my best friend. Or, maybe, a little more than that, if you wanted to…?” He trails off nervously, facing down and planting his lips on your shoulder, which you find endearing. “I’m sorry I didn’t show up that night. I was forced to go to this party and I ended up pissing some of my friends and to add to all of that I pissed you off. And- and all I had to say to your confession was ‘I’m sorry’. ‘I’m sorry’!?” He pulls away, hands grabbing yours tightly.

“Who even says that!? Frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t punch me right then and there. I’m- I’m such an ass when it comes to stuff like this, ‘m sorry.”

“Hey!” You gasp, interlacing your fingers with his. “That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about!” You cough, “That is, uh, if you want to be my boyfriend.”

Xiaoshi, now beaming, flushes a bright pink, but he can’t bring himself to care when his arms wrap around you and you laugh into his chest as he squeezes you almost inhumanly tight. “‘M sorry, sweets, I’m so difficult.” He mumbles in your hair. “I’ve never really done anything like this.”

“Neither have I, big guy.” You let out a shaky sigh. “But I have faith in us. We’ll figure it out, right?”

Xiaoshi leans back and presses his forehead to yours, your nose brushing up against his affectionately. “Right.”

Summertime is a time of new opportunities. New year, new experiences, new companions. And though the warmth of summer doesn’t seem to stay all year long, it’ll always come back, just as fresh and welcoming. The fleeting moments of your first encounter with Xiaoshi will forever hold a place in your heart, as will the season of summer.

And as debatable as it is, the best moments in your life are aestival. Born and belonging in the summer.

© hirokari, 2023.

to all the link click readers out there, and to boba bub.

[marcobodtlives]

Props to Eren for good behaviour because if I was gifted the power of an imaginary telepathic loudspeaker in the minds of an entire population then I’d be saying the dumbest shit imaginable

“Would you guys lo - stop screaming, I just opened the Paths. Gosh, so dramatic. Anyway. Would you guys love me if I were a worm?”

“Okay everybody crack your knuckles in 3… 2… 1…”

“Heyyy, can I get a burger with - oh sorry wrong intercom guys.”

“Simon says jump super high and see if the whole Earth shakes.”

“Oh fuck, I left the speaker running on the simulation. I’m gonna have to mind wipe you all Men in Black Style… haha just kidding guys.”

“How many of you are in the paths rn butt naked ‘cus you were in the shower when I opened the comm line? Oh oh my gosh how many of you are mid shit???”

“You know what would be fun, if everyone simultaneously screamed once I close paths. That’d be hilarious for all the non-Eldians haha.”

“Raise your hand if you’d vote me in as world leader. No? Nobody? K, guess I’ll just start the rumbling if you hate me so much 😒”

“Alright let’s try all sing Bohemian Rhapsody, everyone North of the equator you’re on high pitched, everyone South -”

“Statistically speaking at least one of you has the exact same birthday as me so fess up. Ah. Unfortunately I’ll have to execute you now because I want it to be MY special day.”

“Can I get you all to rate my outfit on a scale of 1-10? Idk if I like it.” *spins in a circle* “What do we think? Lose the boots and try heels or…?”

“Ymir’s been building giant sand sculptures on her own for thousands of years now, so everyone needs to pitch in or she’ll be mad.”

[cherr-22]

TNGDH 36

The cause of the attack was a pack of starved wyverns.

It wasn’t uncommon for demonic beasts to come down near the territory after suffering from hunger during the long winter.

However, the damage was too much for that.

Not only was the castle heavily damaged, there were also quite a few casualties. An hour had passed since Kyle left, yet there were no news sent to the shelter. There was an uneasy silence.

“It was my first time seeing a wyvern like that…….”

The voice filled with fear got me jumping up. I hurriedly walked through the darkness towards the voice.

“How was it different than usual?”

“Ah, you’re the demonic beast specialist. The one close to the Grand Duke…….”

I nodded my head and pressed for further explanation.

“Originally, wyverns are low-level beasts among the dragon clan. They are vicious and often travel in packs, but hunting them is not difficult. However…….”

The man gulped nervously and clenched his shaking fists.

“When the knights’ spears pierced the wyvern’s body…… a terrible odor came from the blood. The spears and the ground… they corroded upon coming in contact with the blood.”

“A-and the wyvern was the biggest I’ve ever seen!”

“Its horn was pointed and sharp…….”

I unconsciously held my breath as I listened to them.

A beast similar to wyverns but larger, its blood emitting a foul odor and corroding anything it touches even after the beast’s death…

‘Drake…….’

It was a monster wyvern from the game I developed.

I took out the Demonic Beast Encyclopedia from my inventory and frantically flipped through the pages. Then, I read and read again the page that introduced the wyvern.

Everything I just heard was true. It wasn’t a wyvern from this world. It was an abnormal phenomenon just like the swamp goat case.

“……Ha.”

Haha.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

What on earth are you asking me to do? How could I bear this guilt?

*

Thankfully, the Blake estate was stronger than I had thought. The people who had been trembling and unable to sleep in the shelter last night got up the next day, wiped away their tears, and began rebuilding the castle.

They were strong people.

They were people who knew how to swallow down their sorrows despite the castle falling, their houses destroyed, and losing their loved ones. Everyone here was like that. They were people who worked hard for tomorrow.

I rubbed away my watery eyes and observed Kyle who was commanding the knights from afar.

He looked very haggard. It took a lot of time for the commotion to calm down, so he probably didn’t have even a moment to rest. He must’ve stayed up all night without having even a sip of water.

I looked down at the cookie crumbs left in my palm. I ate it in a hurry, but I didn’t know how many I bought during this mess.

I now barely had 20 percent of Miracle Points. I only realized now that I used up quite a lot.

I had no choice. I couldn’t disappear from the shelter suddenly, and I was afraid that Kyle might come find me when the commotion was over.

[‘Summon’ will be canceled in 3 minutes.]

‘I ate so many and yet I only have 3 minutes left.’

I smiled helplessly and went back into the castle. A bright light enveloped my body, and when I opened my eyes, I was back in the familiar study room.

[(。﹏。*)]

The system repeatedly appeared and disappeared while watching my reactions. I quietly watched the system windows before rolling over with a sigh.

Let’s first do the things we could do. Nothing will resolve if we rush things.

‘Right. Let’s take it slow, one by one…….’

I went into the hut, curled into a ball, and went to sleep.

I wished for tomorrow to come quickly.

*

The castle was busy the next day as well.

It’ll most likely be busy for the next couple days. The proof of that was Kyle, who didn’t come into the study at all yesterday. Although, I wasn’t sure if he came to my room to look for me.

“Stop worrying about him. He’s doing well.”

I mumbled to myself and pulled the bowstring.

Both the string and my arms trembled. I pulled as hard as I could, yet the trembling wouldn’t stop. It wasn’t this hard when Kyle was helping me.

“Ugh…….”

I lost my grip as sweat covered my hands. Ting. The arrow flew, hit the tree next to the target, and fell to the ground.

I didn’t know if I had no talent or if I didn’t have enough exercise. It could be both.

I held back my sigh and pulled out another arrow.

I think I already fired twenty arrows, but only a few hit properly. Still, I practiced everyday while thinking of the people who worked hard to return back to their daily lives.

A week has passed since then.

At first, I used ‘Summon’ and tried to help the people around me, but I ended up being in the way. They were well-experienced and already knew what they had to do, so I just picked up the bow instead.

As a result, my skills with the bow increased significantly, but I still wasn’t good enough to be of any help. There was no way I could improve with only two hours of practice per day.

“Six shots. You’ve improved a lot.”

A voice came from behind me while I was bandaging my hand. When I turned my head, I saw Kyle looking straight at the target.

“……Aren’t you busy?”

“The things that needs the most attention have been sorted out. We’re at the final stage of recovery, so there is no need for me there.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“I came yesterday too.”

“Yes?”

I had no idea.

I spaced out with my mouth wide open and tried to remember. Did I make any mistakes during my practice yesterday? I didn’t talk with the system, right? Or what about fisting up into the air?

[o(*°///°*)o]

I ignored the system’s strange expectations and smiled sheepishly. The system has been acting weirder and weirder lately.

But why did His Highness take time out of his busy schedule to see me secretly?

“You should’ve said something.”

“You were concentrating. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

He gently squeezed my hand. The tip of my finger twitched at his soft touch.

After practicing for a whole week, my hands turned red and swollen. I recover quickly but making the same wounds at the same spot prevented it from healing.

“Ugh…….”

“Shh.”

Kyle soothed me and applied ointment to my entire palm.

The round container smelled like grass that was dried and then boiled. It wasn’t a good smell. Still, I didn’t dislike it when Kyle applied it thoroughly onto my hands while blowing lightly.

I examined his complexion as he tied the wounds with a white handkerchief.

It was a concern every time I saw his tired face. Although, before I used ‘Summon’, I’ve already seen him as Cashew. Even in these hectic times, Kyle came to prepare my meal every morning. He didn’t kiss me though.

“Don’t overdue it. You can’t improve your skills by rushing.”

“I know. But…….”

“The wound needs to heal and toughen before you can build a new foundation on top of it. If you keep holding onto the bow with a hand that hasn’t healed, it’s not a surprise that you improve slower than you expect.”

His gentle voice made me relax my tense body. I glanced down and saw my hand was done being treated before I knew it. It used to sting from just a light touch, but now I only felt a dull pain. There was no discomfort when I opened and closed my hand.

In that time, Kyle cleaned up the area and put back the bow and arrows I used. He then lightly pulled at the hand that wasn’t hurt.

“If you’re not busy, let’s go.”

“To where?”

“The market is up again. They’re also selling the duck dish and quilted clothes you taught to the people.”

“Ah.”

I quickly checked the system window. I had roughly 30 minutes left.

‘……It should be okay if it’s just for a little while?’

As Cashew, I didn’t get to see Kyle often these days and as Shu, we didn’t talk much.

Even if Kyle wasn’t here, I was curious if they followed my recipe well and how they were selling the clothes. How has the castle been repaired and what expressions do the people have now? I wanted to know. I wanted to see what it was like now.

I cleared my throat and took his hand.

“Then exactly 30…… no, 20 minutes.”

“Alright.”

He smiled.

The tired handsome man looked even more handsome when he smiled. It’s not like his face fits my preference… wait. No, this has nothing to do with my preference. A face like this would make anyone drool.

As we walked towards the market, I swallowed my saliva. Kyle looked down at me and asked.

“Are you hungry?”

“……Uhhh. Yes!”

How sharp.

The corners of his lips trembled and drew into an arc. I avoided his gaze and hurried my steps.

“We should’ve ate before coming here.”

“No. There’s food everywhere here. We can eat those. Wow. That looks delicious! Oh, there are skewers over there!”

I felt embarrassed and rambled on.

In front of us was a stall selling demonic beast meat grilled until golden brown. Kyle paid for them and I took a big bite out of the skewer. I looked around the bustling market.

The people’s faces have become much brighter than they were a few days ago. There were still some places that haven’t been repaired yet, but it seemed like they were making good progress. They even finished making the funerals for those who passed away during the attack.

He spoke while I stood in place.

“There will be a memorial service tomorrow.”

He said it would be a long night. A hint of sadness could be heard in his low voice.

--------------------------------------------------------

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[reds-skull]

BLOOD||HUNGER

[PREV PART] [AO3]

This is it! The last chapter before the epilogue!

It's also the end of a sort of riddle I've been leaving between chapters... I wonder if anyone even noticed, haha

I decided against splitting this chapter, so it's extra long!

Its name is "Famous Fate"

Page 59 of the “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable 16:

My brothers, who endured the agony of exile, Who suffered many winters in the cold cage, Were once knights, only to fall, They too, were called Beast. The young maiden, who left your companion, A pure heart, was her only sin, To not pray for a daemon’s death, only for her to live, She too, was called Beast. A man, fallen in battle, Abandoned by all but Death, but by worms of the earth, He too, was called Beast. The hunter, the knight tells, Who chases monsters, who alleges to be righteous, He calls himself, a hero. He is no better man than us, the knight says, One who declares himself justice, one who proclaims to be above the word of God, Is one we, as oath-bound knights, Must send to be judged, by the only true measurer, By the only arbiter still by our side, by Death itself.

“I know I won’t be able to understand, probably never will, but… I have to ask, Simon. Why didn’t you reach out? You knew how to contact me. I could’ve helped.”

“I didn’t think there was enough of me left to save, Captain.”

“...What changed then?”

He looks away for a moment, to blue eyes that never knew fear from him. To arms that refused to hurt him. To a man that showed him more kindness than he ever deserved.

“I met Johnny.”

Ghost watches Soap sort through the supplies the 141 brought with them, wondering what kind of new contraptions the Sergeant’s vivid mind is imagining up right now. He’s grown sickly fond of them, just like everything else Johnny does.

Compromised, a voice growls in the back of his head. You’re only worsening a future pain, only making the inevitable betrayal more torturous.

No pain would make this any less worth it, another voice answers. It doesn’t matter if their destiny only holds blood and ruin, Simon would stay with Johnny as long as he’s wanted. And even then, maybe just a little more.

He senses the presence of another person a moment before Gaz speaks up, “Ghost.”

“...Gaz.” he answers, curious.

The Lieutenant shifts in his place, shoulders taut and squared, “since we’re going to work together, for this mission at least, I figured I should… apologize.”

Apologize?

Gaz continues, his eyes finally landing somewhere on his mask, “Soap explained to me, you never tried to hurt him, after that time we caught you two. I shouldn’t have jumped into conclusions.”

Ghost tilts his head, “I’d doubt your capabilities if you didn’t.” he looks back at Johnny, huffing when the Sergeant grumbles in Scots, “I’m glad he has someone like you on his side.”

Gaz’s mouth hangs open in surprise. He shakes it off to say, “It’s- of course.” Ghost can tell he’s hesitating at his next sentence, “I still have a hard time comprehending you were Simon Riley all along… You’re a bloody legend in the SAS.”

“I suppose they had an easier time making my death seem heroic than trying to actually save me.” Ghost mutters lowly. Gaz just nods slowly, eyes dropping to the ground.

And that’s a kicker, isn’t it? That apparently, the SAS made him a myth, someone for the rookies to look up to, a glamorized shell of a man that no one, including himself, will ever live up to. The same men that left him to die, now say his name with fondness and admiration.

Funny, how those same men now fear him enough to send the 141 on him. Ghost wants to grin with the twisted satisfaction it gives him.

“What’s your name, Lieutenant?” Ghost eventually asks.

“Huh? Uh, Kyle Garrick.” Gaz raises a brow.

Soap gathers up the last of his creations, face turning to his to nod, “Garrick. I know we started on the wrong foot-”

“Understatement of the century.” Gaz offhandedly remarks.

“-But you can trust me with Soap’s six. And I hope we can trust each other on ours, as well.”

Garrick blinks, expression growing serious. He then nods, offering a hand to shake, “enemy of my enemy is my friend, and all that?”

Ghost hums, taking the hand and squeezing. He can feel, even from their short interactions, how Johnny and Gaz were cut from the same honest cloth.

He takes off his mask, “affirmative. Let’s move.”

Price’s eyes mellow, the hand on his bicep squeezing gently, “that lad is something else, isn’t he?”

Simon’s scars stretch with a small smile, “I thought he was an idiot, at first. Saving me, giving me another chance again and again. No matter what, he refused to kill me.” he breathes out slowly, the numbness of his limbs ebbing at last, “whoever discharged him was a goddamn moron.”

The Captain sighs, “I tried convincing Shepherd to let him off the hook, but the bastard was mental. He had Makarov in the palm of his hand, wanted to show off how he locked up the worst criminal of the decade, only for MacTavish to choke him out on exfil.”

It was Shepherd, then? Of course it’s that bloody wanker. Ghost can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from his chest, “and here’s Johnny, fucking everything up for the higher ups yet again.”

God, what did he do to deserve meeting this man…

Konservy warehouse is a large building, surrounded by silos and containers. At least they’ll have some cover, besides the shadows of the night. Ghost can tell the offloading garage is blessedly open, even from the road their vehicle has parked in, meaning infiltration will be easier than they originally thought.

A thunder makes them all look up to the sky. A heavy storm is brewing, threatening to cover the stars and moon. Good. The darkness is their ally.

They jump out of the truck, gathering around the trunk, doing final checks to their gears. His hands move automatically, in the same way all of them were trained in the SAS. Some part of him is unsettled, the one that labelled himself a lost cause, a monster, a sinner with no salvation.

But as he looks up, at the masked faces surrounding him, Simon can’t call the position he’s in anything but atonement. 

He’ll carve forgiveness from the Hunter’s flesh, write amends with their blood. Untie the last knot on his self-made noose.

The poison in Simon’s body makes itself known at all times now – an uncomfortable buzzing tightening around his knuckles, weaving through sinews and leaving little pinpricks of pain. He looks towards Johnny, his blue eyes a silver grey in the moonlight.

Price wordlessly nods to him, a silent check. Simon schools his features and nods back.

They begin making their way to the garage door, the tall grass their only cover. The Captain motions to the left, where two guards stand under a weak light. Garrick pulls out his EBR, and not two seconds later, both soldiers fall dead with silenced shots. Their group continues pushing forward.

Soap stops walking in front of him, struggling with something. He stops besides him, watching for a moment as he tries to get something out of his pack.

He leans in to whisper, “what are you trying to get, Johnny?”

The Sergeant freezes, “I made some proximity mines with the C4 Price brought, but they’re stuck down there-”

Simon reaches into the pack, gently moving Soap’s hand aside. Their fingers wrap around the bomb at the same time, “you ought to organize it better, what would you do if you were alone?” he admonished.

Johnny’s eyes widen a little, before they crescent in a hidden smile, “but I’m not alone, am I? Ah got ye.”

Soap pulls away, quietly catching up to Gaz and Price. Simon, for his part, stays motionless for far too long, his brain looping Johnny’s words again and again.

It strikes him then, a sudden stab to his heart, that Soap trusts him. With his weapons, with his wounds, with his six.

Johnny trusts him. Simon fights down a smile, happiness overflowing him. He trusts him.

The others send him a confused stare, when Simon doesn’t move. He finally unsticks his legs and sneaks in, eyes instantly drawn to Johnny strapping his unhinged bombs under each vehicle, his “gifts” for any hostile trying to get reinforcements in the future.

Simon can’t force down the smile that his lips form then, when the Sergeant turns around and gives him a thumbs up, almost child like and so at odds with the amount of potential destruction he just planted in the garage.

The others return from clearing the area, Price readjusting his bucket hat over the mask (which looks as daft as it sounds, but Simon can’t help but feel fond of that stupid hat), giving Simon one last look, “how are you feeling, son?”

“Solid.” he flexes his hands, testing the numbness. It’s not enough to inhibit his performance, not yet at least.

Price places a hand on his shoulder, patting it, “good, keep it that way. Our mission may officially be to eliminate the Hunter, but finding an antidote is no less important.” Price’s face darkens, “don’t take unnecessary risks, Simon. I… I don’t want to lose you again.”

Simon swallows thickly, unused to this amount of people caring for his fate. It was far easier to accept a bloody end when no one was there to mourn him, “...I’ll do my best, Captain.”

Price’s moustache lifts with a smile, “good lad. I’ll see you when it’s all over.” he gives him one last pat before drawing away, “let’s move out, Gaz! We need to clear the way for our boys.”

Gaz gives Soap a fist bump and comes by the Captain’s side, “we’ll radio in when you have a way through.”

“Solid copy.” Soap responds, finished with the mine setting, “give ‘em hell, mate.”

Garrick grins, “as always.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to fight?”

Simon scoffs, “I don’t ‘ave a choice, Captain.”

“I am giving you a choice right now. If you think you can’t fight… We can take the Hunter down without you.” Price says, expression severe.

He thinks about it. It is not only a matter of what he wants. When working with a team, he must take into consideration that his inability to fight will endanger the others.

“The poison gives me enough warnings to know a few minutes ahead when I’ll be incapacitated. If I fall while we fight, I’ll be able to secure myself beforehand.” he rolls his wrists, muscling through the pain of regaining feeling, “you’ll need every help you can get. Don’t do my mistake, do not underestimate the Hunter.”

“We won’t, I just need to know-”

“I’ll be fine, Price. Been fighting my whole life with much less.”

“...I know, son. That’s why I would prefer you didn’t.” Price’s brows pull down in sorrow, “but I trust your judgement.”

“...Can’t ask for more than that, John.”

Johnny is silent beside him, eyes glued to the exit he’s overwatching. They’ve been waiting for Price and Gaz’s go-ahead for several slow minutes now, each trickling more sluggishly than the other. The pinpricks on Simon’s hands are growing – he doesn’t have much time.

“Ye think they need backup?” Soap eventually breaks the silence.

“If they’re compromised, we won’t be able to save them now, Sergeant.” as much as he hates the idea of leaving Price and Gaz to fend for themselves, they all knew the risks of splitting up. “For now, assume they’re still solid.”

“Aye, LT- shite, uh-” Johnny fumbles through the words, turning around to give Simon an apologetic look.

He huffs in slight amusement, at how much Soap seems to care if a word hurts him or not.

“It’s alright, Johnny.” he stops the Sergeant from continuing to backtrack.

Johnny’s teeth click shut, and he frowns, sheepishly asking, “...ye sure? It seemed to really bother ye, before…”

‘I wasn’t willing to lay my life for you, before’ he wants to say.

‘I didn’t have your trust, before’

‘I didn’t have trust in myself to lead you, before’

“You’ve earned it, Johnny.” he settles on. It seems to be the right choice, when Soap’s eyes almost close with how wide his grin must be. Simon hates the mask covering his face, for hiding that smile from him.

Their comms choose this moment to start crackling, and Price’s tinny voice comes through, “CCTV room is under our control, haven’t located the Hunter just yet.”

Simon radios back, “have you been spotted?”

“We may not be the Ghost, but we’re still professionals, mate.” Gaz joins in.

“Have ye professionals spotted any potential spot fer the Hunter to hide in?” Soap asks, his eyes still squinting with a smile.

“Still looking, this place is massive.” Price grumbles, “start making your way to the machinery room at the center, take out anyone on the way. I’m seeing a lot of equipment there, but no soldiers…”

“Copy.” Simon clicks his comms off, motioning with his head for Soap to take point.

The halls of the warehouse are eerily empty, little mementos of past life barely clinging to the barren concrete walls. Not for the first time, Simon wonders why the Hunter chose this city, out of all of them.

Soap’s careful steps thump behind him, a calming presence at his back. Simon is not used to trusting, but trusting Johnny feels… natural.

Not for the first time, Simon thanks whatever brought him to Soap. Fate, destiny, a God he doesn’t truly believe in, it doesn’t matter.

He shakes off those thoughts. If it was important for him to be at his best before he met Soap, now it matters a thousand times over, because he’s not alone anymore.

Their fates are interlinked now. And Simon refuses to be the reason they all fall.

He won’t fail his team a second time.

“After all of this is said and done… What will you do?”

Simon grunts as he sits up, finally able to move his torso. He stalls his answer for a moment, the truth so simple it scares him. “...I don’t know.”

He may have been lost many times in his life, tossed between his father’s cruel hands and the cartel’s, but he always had a goal.

‘Get out’

Now, though? The only thing he wants to run away from is the shell of a monster he was before meeting Johnny. A weapon, to be picked up and discarded as needed. 

Price must’ve seen a conflict twisting his expression, because he starts talking again, “I’d have you back in our ranks in a heartbeat, you know. But I don’t think that’s what you need.”

Simon frowns at the ground, hands massaging his aching legs, “and what do you think I need?”

“Someone to ground you. Make sure you don’t forget yourself again.”

“Someone like Johnny, then.”

“Another hostile on your 3, Simon.”

“Copy.”

Simon steps around another stack of crates, every move calculated and muted. The unsuspecting soldier walks right past him, arms relaxed on his weapon.

He waits for him to reach the end of the hallway, and the moment the soldier starts turning, Simon claps a hand over his mouth and slices his neck in a well practiced motion. He catches the body and shoves it into a nearby storage room. “Anyone else, Garrick?”

“You’re clear for now.” Gaz responds. He continues guiding Simon through the mess of halls that lead to the main room of the warehouse, alerting him to enemies. Soap has separated from him about ten minutes ago, taking the other rooms and making sure no one will be alive to raise any alarms.

Even if Price is keeping an eye on Johnny, Simon would’ve much preferred if he was in his sights. But he trusts the Captain.

“Any sign of the Hunter showing on CCTV?” Soap radios in, voice steady and calm.

Price sighs, “negative-”

“Wait-” Gaz cuts him off, “next to the main conveyor belt, right in the middle of the main room, is that…”

Simon holds his breath in anticipation as the line goes silent, Price and Gaz likely attempting to verify the ID.

“Skull mask, that’s them. Soap, Simon, PID on the Hunter!” Price nearly shouts.

Gaz’s voice is far more tense than before when he adds, “it seems like they know something’s wrong, prepare for combat!”

Shit, “Johnny, where are you right now?” they can’t be separated if they’ve been discovered.

“On my way to ye- fuck!” grunts and muted punches fill the comms, the sounds of struggle a sinking feeling in Simon’s chest.

Simon starts running. “Price, where is he?!” these bloody hallways all look the fucking same! He retraces his steps to the point he and Johnny split ways.

“Turn left, he’s straight ahead from there!”

He almost slams into the wall with how fast he turns, but the pain is barely registered when he spots Johnny.

Johnny, whose chest is heaving, three dead soldiers at his feet. His bright blue eyes meet his, “Simon?”

He’s capable. You can trust that he won’t die on you.

He blinks a few times before asking, “what’s your status, Sergeant?”

Soap wipes a bloody knife on his pants, “solid. Let’s move.”

“Your cover is blown. Soldiers are making their way to you!” Gaz tells them, “they’re going to the trucks to the front exit, might be trying to get reinforcements!”

He doesn’t need to see Soap’s mouth to know the way it curves into a dangerous grin, “they won’t get far.”

Simon slings his rifle around, toggling the safety off, “time to go loud, Johnny.”

Soap does the same, “with pleasure.”

The sounds of shots line up with his heartbeat. In a fast-paced melody of war, Simon and Johnny continue pushing hostiles back, headshot after headshot.

Heavy drops of rain shake the roof, thunder booming so close to them, Simon feels it in his heart.

Somewhere amidst the battle, several far away explosions rattle the warehouse, the soldiers in front of them taken by surprise. Simon thinks he can hear Johnny chuckling darkly under his breath.

Red paints the walls, brushstrokes of blood and fallen soldiers of the Hunter. It gives Simon newfound strength to push through the growing pain in his limbs, a blinding rush of adrenaline that lies to him sweetly, convincing him he could resist the poison in his heart.

One second, he’s shooting down enemy after enemy.

The next, he falls.

His gun clatters to the ground, legs convulsing uncontrollably. Simon uses the last of his powers to drag himself around the corner, to cover.

“Simon?! Fuck-” Johnny appears a moment later, attempting to scan him for injuries between shots, “poison?”

Simon groans, “affirm. Sorry, Johnny.” shame bubbles in him. He should be right beside Soap, helping him fight, and the poison decides to take it away from him.

He should be stronger than this.

“None of that, mo chridhe.” Johnny says softly, taking down another hostile, “I’ll clear this wave, and we’ll get ye to a better spot.”

How could he be so gentle while killing people? Simon lays back down with a smile, loosening his muscles and letting the poison have its way.

Soap gets the last of them and returns to his side, looping arms under his shoulders and heaving him up, “steamin’ Jesus, ye weigh as much as a baby elephant.” he complains under his breath.

Simon chuckles, hissing as the jostling shoots pain up his limbs, “you’re just short, Sergeant.”

“Away an’ bile yer heid, bastard…”

Soap drags him to one of the side rooms, a storage unit that seems like it hasn’t seen the light of day for decades. About this time, Simon wishes he had his mask on, if only to filter all the bloody dust in this room.

Johnny fusses over him for a few seconds, until Simon stops him, “I’ll be fine, Soap. Once I regain movement, I’ll come to you.”

Soap stops, hands frozen on his shoulders. He frowns like he wants to argue, but he rises to his feet all the same. “I kept yer comms open, so if ye hear anyone gettin’ close-”

“I’ll radio in. Don’t worry.” Simon smiles, “go.”

Johnny opens the door, hesitating. Simon is about to order him again when Soap unexpectedly turns around, takes three loud steps towards him, and rips his mask off.

“What are you doing, Johnny-”

Warm, shaky hands cup his face, tilt it up. Johnny bends down, and softly kisses his forehead.

In the space between them, he whispers, “I’ll come back for ye, Simon. I promise.”

He puts the mask back on, and leaves.

Simon’s heart burns, his cheeks surely bright pink. He doesn’t know if it’s from the poison, or from…

No, the tight grip around his heart is definitely from the poison. An agonizing ache wraps around his chest, heavier than 6 feet of dirt. Simon’s lungs shudder for a breath.

He can distantly hear the others talk on comms, but the blood rushing through his ears prevents him from deciphering what they’re saying. Simon understands then, that this might be the end. With the poison gripping his lungs, and the lingering warmth of Johnny’s lips, Simon closes his eyes.

His last thought is of regret, that Johnny won’t be able to keep his promise.

“-The Hunter, they’re going after-”

Simon groans, unimaginable pain thumping at his head. Couldn’t death have at least taken that away from him?

The rain beats in incessant song in his head.

“-Wait for backup, MacTavish-!”

MacTavish… Johnny….. Simon remembers the kiss, his promise, and smiles. 

“-Can’t-”

“-SOAP-!!!”

Garrick sounds frantic. What are they shouting about?

Gunshots make his brows crease. Fighting someone… Where is he?

The warehouse. Price, Garrick. The Hunter.

“Johnny…” Simon rasps. A loud static is buzzing on comms. He pays it no mind.

He needs to get up. His limbs don’t shake anymore, but his lungs hurt like he breathed in sandpaper. Simon whimpers, pushing himself forward.

His rifle is laying right next to him. Trembling fingers wrap around the weapon, and with gritted teeth, Simon manages to take it with him as he gets up. He stumbles through the door, blearily noticing the trail of bodies leading deeper into the warehouse.

Simon follows the paths of blood.

He doesn’t know how long it took him to walk all the way to the central room of the warehouse, time slipping between the cracks in his mind. It’s so hard to breathe, dark spots take permanent residence in the edges of Simon’s vision.

The lights went out before he woke up, plunging the building into shades of red, the emergency lights making the blood appear black.

Only one light remains, a spotlight encompassing two figures. A crimson skull makes Simon’s steps falter.

The Hunter.

Their gun pointed directly at Johnny’s head.

It takes everything Simon has left in him to lift his gun. His lips move around a prayer, a plea to whoever is out there listening.

His fingers shake around the trigger.

He takes one last heaving breath, his eyes wide with fear.

The Hunter’s head moves from Johnny to him.

Simon shoots.

His bullet hits the Hunter’s arm, the rifle in their hands getting knocked away and sliding under a conveyor belt.

Johnny turns around, blue eyes shining in the light.

Simon smiles.

“...Simon…?” Johnny asks.

He falls unconscious not a moment later.

Several minutes earlier

Soap closes the door on the storage room. He takes a second to roughly scrub down his face. What the fuck did he just do?! Did he bloody lose it?!!

“Soap, what’s your status?” Price asks over the radio.

“Solid. Poison got Simon, left him in a storage room.”

The Captain sighs, “we will keep an eye on the door, son. He’ll be safe.” Soap exhales shakily. “More hostiles your way, keep pushing Soap.”

“Copy.”

No time to consider his fuckin’ action. He needs to focus.

He hears the rumbling steps of soldiers echoing through the empty halls, and pulls out a flash grenade. Now that he’s alone, he can start using some of his more… lethal equipment.

Soap huddles behind a filing cabinet, throwing the flash over his shoulder. Even though he covers his eyes, his vision is still painted bright red for a moment. He pops out of cover, noting the disoriented soldiers clutching at their eyes and ears, and methodically dusts them.

From here on out, it is total chaos.

Drill charges, Semtex, frags, every explosive in Soap’s arsenal gets thrown at seemingly endless waves of soldiers. He moves on instincts, hands shooting at targets his mind didn’t even register yet.

It is only when he gets to the main machinery room, that he comes back to himself.

Sentry turrets have been set up at the entrance, waiting for him.

Soap rolls away not a moment too soon, the floor he just stood on turning to shattered bits of concrete in seconds. 

“Captain, they have sentries!” Gaz yells, “Soap is pinned!”

Soap scans the room he’s in, noting the snaking cables wrapping around the sentries legs. Following them, he spots a large electrical enclosure. If he could create a shock, the sentries will stop working…

A thunder rattles the windows around them, soldiers spreading out in search of him. “On your 9, Soap!” Price informs him, and he shoots two soldiers getting too close to his position.

The rain… if he can get it to drop on the enclosure…

Soap scans the roof for any weak points. There!

“Captain, Gaz, are there any hostiles around me?” he growls into his mic.

Gaz answers, “Negative, what are you-”

“Ah’m gonna drop the power to take the sentries down, might take out the CCTV.”

One beat passes before Price replies, “understood. We will come back you up if it goes.”

“Solid copy, Captain.” Soap lines up a shot at a precariously placed piece of the roofing. With only the iron sights on his rifle, it takes precious moments to aim and finally press the trigger. The hairs on Soap’s nape raise as he hears soldiers close in on him.

Time slows as he watches the water spill down, flooding the electrical enclosure.

“He’s here! Get him!” A soldier shouts to his left.

The warehouse instantly falls dark. The electric hum stops, making Soap’s surroundings eerily silent.

He ducks away, sneaking around crates and containers, moving position to the soldiers’ flank, and just as the red emergency lights turn on, he strikes.

5 shots, and they’re down.

“The CCTVs are out, we’re making our way to you. Do not engage the Hunter alone, Soap.” Price orders through comms.

Soap lifts his hand to press the button to answer, but a new group of soldiers appears, shots wild as they spray the area he’s in. He jumps back, searching for his attackers, tracking the glint of the gunmetal. He shoots them, bodies falling, and for a moment he believes he’s in the clear.

Pinpricks at the back of his neck make him turn.

Soap’s eyes widen as he comes face to face with the Hunter.

They stare at each other for a second, before the Hunter simply walks away.

Back towards the way he came from, towards… Simon!

“Soap?! Soap, give me sitrep, now!” Price yells, snapping him out of shock.

“Price, the Hunter, they’re going after Simon!” Soap doesn’t have time to figure out how the Hunter knows that, no time to figure out how he knows that.

“Wait for backup, MacTavish! That’s an order!”

“I can’t let Simon die, Captain!”

At those words, the Hunter snaps their gaze to him, and with near inhuman speed, lift their gun and shoot.

Pain shoots through his right shoulder, making him drop his gun. Soap bites down a scream of agony, the burning of the gunshot spreading down his arm.

“SOAP-!!!”

The butt-end of a gun comes at his head, Soap falling to the ground on his back to avoid it.

A single light turns on above them, the sharp shadows casted on the grotesque red skull mask hiding the Hunter’s eyes.

The commander circles him, Soap crawling towards his gun. If he could only-

The Hunter kicks it away, the firearm clattering when it hits one of the metal support structures keeping the warehouse’s roof up. The reverberating sound bounces on the barren walls.

“I’ll never let ye kill Simon.” Soap snarls, desperation clawing at his chest. He frantically searches for an exit, a way to stall the Hunter, before they line the barrel of their rifle with his head.

He’s going to die here, Soap realizes.

He won’t be able to fulfill his promise to Simon.

A shot from behind him makes him jump, the bullet hitting the Hunter’s hand, making their gun fly off and land under a conveyor belt.

Soap turns around, heart beating out of his chest.

Simon stands behind him, his form shaking, face even paler than usual, standing out against the red lights.

“...Simon…?” 

Simon crumples, body falling heavily to the ground.

“-NO-!” Soap rushes to him, when a blade unsheathing makes him freeze.

The Hunter is flexing their injured hand, a knife held tightly in the other. Soap growls.

So this is how it’s going to be, huh?

Soap searches Simon for a moment, unsheathing his knife. The blade is long and cruel, one he’s seen take so many lives in the short time they’ve known each other. It’s only fair it will take one more.

Soap gets his feet under him, grunting at the pain from his wound.

They start circling each other, waiting for the other to strike first. The Hunter’s head moves for a second away from him, to look at Simon.

That’s when Soap rushes in, knife in his left hand, slicing at the Hunter’s other arm. He jumps away before the commander can retaliate, and they start trading blows.

Soap manages a cut at their wrist, bright red blood mixing with their uniform. The Hunter slashes at his injured shoulder, making Soap yell.

He disengages for a moment to catch his breath, watching the Hunter do the same. He feels doomed for a moment, when he realizes he’s fighting a soldier that bested even the Ghost.

How could he win?!

Another blow to his torso that Soap barely evades. He tries to go for the Hunter’s neck, only for them to block it, shoving Soap away with frightening force.

Think, MacTavish! You’ve always been shorter, weaker, younger than both your squad mates and your opponents!

Take those disadvantages, and make them work!

Soap inhales sharply, dodging another lethal attack. The Hunter is far stronger than him, if they managed to get a stab in…

A sharp grin stretches on his lips. Soap twirls around the Hunter, their knife predictably following with immense speed.

He lets it sink into his left shoulder, and he pushes towards it, snarling as it sinks in further.

The Hunter attempts to take it out, but it sank far too deep. Soap locks eyes with the red skull.

In a wide arc, Soap swings his knife, and slices the Hunter’s neck.

Blood sprays on his face, as the commander clutches at him, a pathetic attempt to keep themselves standing.

Soap freezes when he hears the Hunter talk.

Their voice is startlingly old, decrepit, as they whisper, “You are nothing but a Blind Man… a Beast… following… a Beast… you will not be more than that… you will die… monsters…..”

The Hunter’s grip slips from his biceps, and they fall to the ground, dead.

Soap stares at the blood spreading on the floor, as an unsettling sense that this has happened before washes over him.

He shakes it off when his eyes drift away towards Simon’s still form.

Soap falls to his knees, frantically searching the Hunter’s body, “Fuck, c’mon, c’mon…”

His fingers brush over a set of vials and syringes at their hip, and he yanks them off, trembling fingers slipping while he tried to get the liquid in the syringe.

Once he manages to fill one, Soap throws away the rest, crawling to Simon and tilting his head to access his neck. The poison has blackened his veins, the injection site the epicenter. Soap stabs it and pushes the liquid from the needle into Simon.

He sits back, arms pulsing pain from both of his wounds, the Hunter’s knife still in his shoulder.

“Simon… Mo leannan, please.” his eyes start to water, uncoordinated hands pawing at Simon’s chest, “please, wake up…”

He places a bloody hand over Simon’s cheek, tears now streaming down his face, “I kept my promise… I told you I’ll come back, right?” his voice cracks, “now ye just have to come back to me… Please…”

Soap feels his adrenaline waning, leaving him tired, so fucking tired. He rests his head on Simon’s chest, sobbing at the stillness of it.

“I…” Soap closes his eyes, “I wanted to tell ye…” his exhales shudder out of him, “I love ye…”

Ba-dump

Soap stills. Did he imagine…?

Ba-dump

Ba-dump

Ba-dump-Ba-dump-Ba-dump-Ba-dump-Ba-dump-Ba-dump-

“Fuck…” Simon groans. Soap’s head shoots up, and his brown eyes soften, “Johnny?”

Soap barks a laugh, blinking away tears.

Simon’s eyes trail down, to the knife in his shoulder, “fucking ‘ell, Soap, how did you manage that?!”

“The Hunter…” 

“Is he…” Simon stares behind him, at the growing puddle of blood, “fuck, Johnny, you took him out by yourself?”

“You and me, Simon.”

Simon smiles up at him, dark eyes breathtakingly deep. He sighs a moment later, slowly getting up to walk to the body of the commander. Soap follows.

Simon takes hold of the red skull mask, staring intently at it before taking it off.

Beneath it, was a face Soap feels he’s seen before, yet in the weeks following, he could not remember. The only feature burned into his memory were the four scars slashed across the Hunter’s face.

The claws of an animal.

Simon examines the mask. It looks similar to Ghost’s, but the red skull is sculpted to look furious, a permanent frown on it.

Simon offers it to Soap, who gives him a confused look.

“You’ve earned it.”

Soap stares at Simon, before taking the mask. 

The two of them swivel their heads back when a pair of footsteps sound through the hallway behind them. Simon slides a knife down his sleeve, ready to fight, when the source is revealed to be Price and Gaz.

“Soap, bloody hell mate, we told you to-” Gaz’s brows slowly rise as he registers Simon, and then the mask in Soap’s hand.

Price approaches them, “the antidote…?”

“Administered.” Soap says, “it’s over.”

The warehouse falls silent as they process the words.

The Hunter is dead.

It is done.

Page 63 of the “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable 17:

And the Beast attacked, cruel claws reaching the hunter, His eyes blinded, by blood and rage, And the Beast says to the Blind Man, you will fight as equals. The Blind Man, the Fallen Knight, Takes a sword, and strikes the hunter down, And as his blood became one with the dirt, the hunter tells, You are not but a Blind Man, not but a beast following a beast, You will not be more, you will die Monsters. And the hunter falls silent, forevermore belonging to death.

[sshewonders]

WARM BODIES

Chapter 06: Vanished

chapter synopsis: Daryl's crucial to camp survival, but tension with you deepens. Your sudden disappearance rattles the group, and Daryl's search unveils unsettling truths. Fear grips the camp, especially for Carl. Where are you, and what hides in the woods?

chapter warnings: Contains isolation, vulnerability, coarse language, suggestive remarks, disappearance, relationship dynamics, search efforts, suspense, and conflict.

word count: 1.2k words

author's note: Oops! Remember when I said that I hate it when writers portray Daryl Dixon so out of character? Well, I hate the writer for this—by the way, it's me! Haha! Anyway, one more chapter will be posted later! Yes, two chapters in a day! Woohoo!

MASTERLIST

NEXT CHAPTER >>

It had been a little over a month since the world went to hell, with geeks roaming the earth. You had brought the Dixon brothers to the camp about three weeks ago, and their impact was becoming clear. Daryl, in particular, proved to be a valuable asset. He hunted tirelessly, often disappearing into the woods only to return with food for the camp. He even rigged up a makeshift alarm system of tin cans tied to trees, which jingled when geeks approached, alerting the group to potential threats. Merle, on the other hand, wasn't exactly a camp MVP. He spent most of his time making lewd comments and ogling women, particularly to Andrea. Occasionally, he contributed by chopping wood and helping prepare game hunted by Daryl.

You interaction with Daryl had been limited since your initial conversation, which left you quite shaken. The hurtful words he'd thrown at you stung deeply. You had taken refuge in your drawings, retreating from socializing. You'd speak only when spoken to, wary of more painful interactions. You had attempted to learn hunting, returning with a few injuries and scares but gradually improving.

Your routine now consisted of early morning walks into the deeper woods, armed with your bow and a brown leather bag, accompanied by quiet farewells to Glenn. Once there, you'd climb a tree and wait for geeks to show up, aiming to pick them off with your arrows. An unfortunate accident occurred when you were surrounded by four geeks, leading to you jumping from the tree to escape, injuring yourself in the process. You hobbled back to camp with scratches, a twisted ankle, and a reluctance to share the incident with anyone, especially Daryl, who was particularly observant. You kept this incident to yourself, even hiding it from Glenn, preferring to deal with it privately.

You had chosen to isolate yourself, preferring to nurse your injuries and protect your pride rather than let the others see your vulnerabilities. You kept your distance, fearing more hurtful comments and unwilling to admit your failures, even to Glenn.

It became even more challenging for you when you noticed that Shane was spending an excessive amount of time disappearing into the woods, often coinciding with Lori's mysterious absences. You had a pretty good idea of what they were doing in the woods, as the knowing glances they exchanged didn't go unnoticed. The thought of them engaging in a new romantic relationship so soon after Rick's death left you feeling disgusted. It had been less than a month since your brother's passing, and Lori had already moved on with Shane, Rick's best friend. While you believed their actions to be disrespectful, you understood that it was Lori's choice, not yours.

However, you couldn't bring yourself to accept that your brother was truly gone. You held onto the belief that Rick was still alive, a feeling you couldn't shake. Rick even visited you in your dreams at times, reassuring you of his return. You hadn't felt the undeniable certainty in your gut that marked Rick's death. You refused to believe your brother was gone unless you saw his lifeless body with your own eyes.

Rick will always comeback.

Lori awoke later than usual, still tired after a rough night with Shane. She unzipped the tent and spotted her son Carl playing checkers with Sophia. A proud smile crossed her face as she saw how much he was growing. She walked over, ruffled his hair, and exchanged greetings with Carol, who was hanging clothes she had washed. It was a contented morning, with full stomachs thanks to Daryl's successful hunting, providing a large deer for grilling and stewing. People around the camp were busy with their tasks, children played, and the atmosphere was generally cheerful.

However, the mood shifted when a visibly panicked Glenn rushed to them. Lori, concerned, inquired about what had shaken him so. Dale observed from the top of his RV, and the commotion drew the attention of everyone nearby.

"It's Y/N," Glenn stammered, his expression reflecting his anxiety.

Shane stepped closer, standing next to Lori, and asked, "What's happened to her?"

Glenn continued, his voice shaking, "She didn't return last night, and there's been no sign of her since yesterday."

Andrea joined the conversation, concerned. "Could she have just camped somewhere else?"

Glenn, his voice trembling. "Oh, come on! I know her, and she wouldn't sleep somewhere else. She hates asking anyone to share a tent."

Shane took charge of the situation. "Okay, everyone, we gotta search the camp. Yell her name loud; she's gotta hear us."

The camp bustled with activity, people splitting into groups to search every nook and cranny. Tensions were running high as they continued calling for you, with Carl growing increasingly worried about his aunt.

Merle, on the other hand, had been indifferent to the commotion at first, continuing to work on the squirrel he was skinning. Daryl, however, was now fully awake and alert, realizing something was amiss.

"Wha' happened?" Daryl asked his brother.

"Bambi ain't back since yesterday." Merle shrugged.

Daryl, his blue eyes sharpened with concern, asked his brother Merle, "Wha' d'you mean she ain't back?"

Merle, still focused on the squirrel, grunted, "Chinese kid came over sayin' she ain't been back since yesterday. I guess she camped out or somethin'."

Daryl's brows furrowed deeply, and he shook his head. "Nah, she wouldn't do that. The girl ain't got no clue about having a proper conversation with someone. Something ain't right."

Daryl's gaze remained fixed on the woods' edge, a sense of unease gnawing at him. It was a dreadful feeling, not knowing where you were or what had happened to you. For a moment, he almost regretted not having spoken to you since that awkward conversation on their first day in the camp.

Daryl grunted as he got to his feet, snatching his crossbow and hunting knife. Merle peered at his little brother and asked, "Where the hell you goin'?"

Daryl looked at Merle, a mix of determination and concern on his face. "Gonna try to find her in them woods."

Merle chuckled with a sly grin. "Heh, maybe you'll finally get lucky out there. You know."

Daryl glared at him and snapped, "Shut up, Merle."

Merle continued with his unsettling comment. "Just bring her on her knees and let me have a turn."

Daryl frowned and muttered, "Yer disgusting," before heading into the woods to search for you.

As an hour passed, and there was still no sign of you, anxiety in the camp deepened. People began to voice their concerns, speculating about what might have happened to you.

"I hope she's okay," said Carol as she anxiously watched the ongoing search.

"I've never seen her gone for so long," Amy added. "Do you think she got lost?"

Glenn's voice quivered as he replied, "I don't know. She's resourceful. She knows her way around, but this is just... It doesn't make sense. Why would she go without telling me?"

Sophia, who was growing more restless by the minute, tugged on Carl's sleeve. "Where's Y/N? I'm scared."

Carl tried to offer comfort, but the worry in his eyes mirrored that of the adults. "I don't know, Sophia, but they're looking for her, and she'll come back soon."

He needs her to comeback. He needs you.

@celtic-crossbow @maackiimoo @duckmania127 @xmaeyonaiise @richardsamboramylove55 @snailss

[baileypie-writes]

can you please do a daruizen x reader where in this daruizen is redeemed the reader starts to act like an older sister to him and daruizen is just the happiest because he knows he has a sister (this is like if daruizen was redeemed)

A/N ~ Sure! This idea is so sweet! I had way too much fun writing it haha. Hope you enjoy!

~Something I’ve Never Had~

Daruizen + Fem!Big Sister-like!Reader

~~~🦠~~~🦠~~~🦠~~~

Fandom: Healin' Good♡Precure

Fanfic Type: Oneshot

Reader: Female

Relationship: Platonic

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG

Synopsis: Daruizen is purified, and now has nowhere to go. So you don’t hesitate to take him under your wing.

Warnings: Probably pretty cringe.

(Reader is older than Daruizen, and still lives with her parents)

~Masterlists~

~Healin' Good♡Precure Masterlist~

~~~🦠~~~🦠~~~🦠~~~

You stared down at the limp body on the grass, wondering if it worked. The Pretty Cure used a very strong attack on their enemy, Daruizen, in hopes of purifying him. And now, he lay motionless.

You weren’t sure if purifying him was even a possibility. His whole existence is being some sort of germ, so removing disease from his being might just make him disappear completely. You waited impatiently for it to happen, but as the minutes passed, his whole body was still intact.

Then, he started moving. Slowly and laboriously, but he was definitely moving. Finally, he was sat up. His back was turned to you, so you couldn’t quite tell how he was doing.

“Daruizen?” Cure Earth called out to him. The other Pretty Cure gripped their Healing Sticks just in case of an attack. Cure Grace was gripping hers particularly hard, so much so that her hand began to shake.

The boy turned around, and the girls, minus the one in pink, lowered their weapons in relief. It seemed that the purification was a success! Daruizen looked different. His horns and scorpion tail were no longer present, and his skin was now a natural color, instead of its original pale blue. His ears were also rounded, instead of pointy. He looked fully human.

“How?” He asked, looking frightened. He glanced down at his hand, getting a view of his new complexion.

“I don’t know, but it’s great, isn’t it?” Cure Sparkle exclaimed excitedly.

You took notice that Daruizen didn’t share the same enthusiasm as her. You took a step towards her to get her to act a bit calmer, but jumped when you got an interruption.

“Great? How is this great? I can’t go back to the Byogen Kingdom now! I’ll be shunned by the others! I don’t have a home now!” He shouted angrily, despite his obvious exhaustion.

Cure Sparkle’s shoulders tensed, and she frowned guiltily. “Oh, yeah…” She turned to the others. “What should we do guys?”

Cure Earth and Cure Fontaine struggled to come up with ideas. And Cure Grace didn’t seem interested in making a solution. She just stood a distance away, not wanting to even look at Daruizen. You could understand why she wouldn’t want anything to do with him. He was the cause of the illness that ripped a large portion of her childhood away from her.

So, you decided to take matters into your own hands. “He can come with me.” You said. Everyone turned to look at you.

“Are you sure, (name)?” Cure Fontaine asked.

“Yes, I’m sure. He doesn’t have anywhere to go. Plus, my house has an extra bedroom. And I’m sure my parents won’t mind taking him in.” You smiled, glancing over to him.

You walked over to Daruizen. He looked scared and nervous, though he was attempting to hide it with a tough face. You knelt down to his level, and held out your hand. At that moment, you didn’t see a heartless villain, just a sad, scared little boy who needed help. “Wanna come with me?” You asked him.

Daruizen stared down at your palm for a moment, before slowly taking it. His hand was cold, and slightly shaking. “I guess I don’t have a choice.” He said, avoiding eye contact. You gave him a gentle smile, letting him know that everything was okay, before helping him up onto his feet.

~~~~

“Mom, Dad, this is my friend, Daruizen.” You introduced your parents to the boy next to you, gesturing to him. “He has no family, and nowhere to say. So I was hoping he would stay with us?”

Your parents looked over at Daruizen. He tried to look as normal as possible, but was very obviously nervous and unsure.

“Of course he can. If he needs help, that’s what he’s going to get.” Your mother said, giving him a gentle smile. Your father nodded, agreeing with her statement.

You let out a sigh of relief, and thanked them. You lightly tapped Daruizen, urging him to do the same. “Thank you for your generosity.” He said, bashfully looking away.

~(Three weeks later…)~

To be honest, you were skeptical on how well Daruizen would fit in. His world was just so different from yours. But to your surprise, he was actually doing quite well.

There were some things he had to get used to though. Sleep was one of them. Apparently, being a germ of sorts, he used to not need sleep. So it took him a while to understand. You still occasionally need to force him to bed when he claims he’s not tired. Food was another thing. Again, it wasn’t something he used to need. But once you introduced him to it, he really enjoys it. He especially loves your parents’ cooking. Dinner is probably one of his favorite parts of the day.

The two of you have grown close through the weeks. Though Daruizen can be cold, he began to warm up to you. He struggles with other people, but you figured that since you’re the one who took him in, it made it easier to trust you. The relationship you have gained resembles the one siblings would have. So you basically think of Daruizen as your little brother. And though he won’t admit it, he thinks of you as his sister.

So now that he was used to being on Earth, it was only appropriate to enroll him in school. He was quite reluctant at first. He claimed he didn’t need school. But you managed to convince him.

So now, you stood in front of the gates of Sukoyaka Middle School, with Daruizen by your side. He was wearing his brand new uniform, and had his bag in hand. You watched him observe the other students as they walked to class.

“I wish I could go in with you. Are you sure you’ll be alright?” You asked him. You’re worried about him, since other than with you, he tends to not be very good at socializing.

“Yes. I’ll be fine.” He said, a bit annoyed. He took a glance at you, then looked down at his shoes. “…. Thanks (name).”

“Oh?” You questioned. “What for?”

“For helping me, and giving me a home.” His eyes were still facing downwards. “I fully expected you to just leave me on my own, especially after everything I did. But you didn’t. You showed me so much about Earth, and cared for me. Back in the Byogen Kingdom, relationships with others weren’t really a thing. So friends or family are something I’ve never had. I never thought I’d admit this, but my new life had been… enjoyable.”

You nearly felt your eyes water at his words. “I’m so glad, Daruizen! You’ve been adjusting so well, and I’m so proud of you. I just know that you’re gonna do great in school!”

Daruizen looked up at you, and gave you a very small smile. You smiled back much wider, and pulled him in for a hug. “What the heck is this?” He asked, confused and annoyed.

“It’s called a hug.” You laughed.

Daruizen wriggled out of your grasp. “Well, I’m not a fan. Please don’t do that again.” You just chuckled, and ruffled his hair, another thing you learned he disliked.

“You better get going now. School’s about to start!” You gently grabbed his shoulders, and led him through the gates. Daruizen glanced behind him as he walked. You waved him goodbye. He did a small wave back, before facing forward again.

You watched him until he disappeared into the school. Then, you began your journey home. Daruizen still has so much to learn, but you’re sure he’ll do just fine academically. You couldn’t wait to hear about his day when he got home. But that was quite a while away. So you went home, and awaited your “little brother’s” return.

~~~🦠~~~🦠~~~🦠~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[judjira]

slippery business

AN: yaaaay dubchaeng finally!! i had a lot of fun with this one, i was literally playing hades and had to stop a run halfway through because i just thought of the idea lmao also a sneak peek at our last apartment inhabitant !! i say sneak peek, but really you see most of her here HAHA enjoy !!

pairing: dubchaeng apartment au wc: 1429

“Thisss isss gonna be ssso fucking funny.”

Now, Chaeyoung had a lot of good ideas.

So many, really, all great plans for a numerous amount of practical jokes at the expense of the other people in the apartment.

For example, there was that time she snuck an angel trap under the seat that Tzuyu always sat on, and she ended up stuck there for three hours with that telltale crease to her forehead when she was in trouble but didn’t want to let anyone know due to her pride.

There was also that time she put a silver piece in Momo’s wallet, and when the werewolf went to pay a delivery guy for the pizza, she immediately yelped and transformed into her wolf form right in front of the pizza guy, scurrying off to her room. Jeongyeon had to modify the dude’s memories right after.

And that one time she—

“And what in the name of the Lady are you doing now, Chaeyoung?”

The voice behind her whispered, almost, into her ear. She jumped in surprise, or at least she attempted to, in this form.

“Allfather above, Mina! Warn a girl, next time!”

“I did. I’ve been calling your name for a while now.”

While the ghost’s presence was unexpected, it wasn’t unwelcome.

“Your timing isss perfect, actually. I’m going to prank the new girl!”

She couldn’t really see where Mina’s form was, but she immediately assumed the frown on her face formed, as it did whenever she told the other woman of her plans.

“She is new here, Chaeyoung. Surely, some leniency can be provided for her?”

“This isss lenient! It’s jussst a harmlesss prank, I swear!”

She grinned, tongue slipping out of her lips(?).

“And how exactly do you explain this?”

There was a brief moment of silence, before Mina clarified.

“Your body. What did you do?”

If she had arms, she would present them in a grand manner. Unfortunately, she didn’t.

“I’m a sssnake! Isssn’t it obviousss?”

A coral snake, to be precise. The red, black, and bright yellow stripes on Chaeyoung’s current form stood out against the carpeted floor of the apartment.

“And what exactly do you plan to do as a snake?”

“Here’sss the plan. That new girl’sss like…sssome sssort of witchy girl, right? Well, I’m going to sssneak into her room and bite her! A sort of, ‘welcome to the family’ kind of thing!”

Dead air. Literally.

“And…that is a practical joke, how, exactly?”

Seriously, there was no appreciation for her jokes around here.

“It’sss going to be funny! She’s gonna ssscream and flail, and then the poissson’s gonna be in her sssyssstem, and it’sss gonna be sssuper painful!”

Mina tutted, her voice echoing through the hall.

“And if you hurt her? Lady Dahyun’s going to scold you again.”

The mention of one of their lovers had Chaeyoung scoffing lightly.

“It’ll be fine. I’ve been around witches, Mina. They can handle themselves.”

Chaeyoung had a few encounters with witches back in the day. Annoying, really, what they did, but she couldn’t deny that there was some level of amusement to their hexes. She even stole a few of them for herself.

“If you believe that is the case, then go ahead. I will have no part of this. Try not to get too injured, please.”

Chaeyoung felt a ghostly breeze whip through her, lightly shaking her form.

“Fine, you ssspoilsssport.”

Not that she ever really received any help from Mina for her pranks. At most, the ghost would tut, proclaim her disapproval, then go and get Dahyun if it ended badly. Which it had, especially when she got Jeongyeon pretty mad.

Slithering her way over to the newcomer’s door, she stifled her own giggles. This was going to be good.

Easily slipping under the gap of the door, the first thing she really smelled was earth. The next thing she saw was a fire.

Sitting by the fire was the new girl, muttering to herself and collecting some sort of dirt in her hand. Chaeyoung saw her chance, moving her body across the floor, tongue darting out as she grinned. Sure, she’d get in trouble, but it’d be hilarious.

Before she could even get a moment closer, however—

“Ow!”

A sharp pain pierced through her side, and heat pooled around where she was stabbed.

Allfather above, she just got stabbed.

A spear was sticking out of the side of her serpent form, stabbing right through her and into the hardwood floor of the apartment.

The new girl was now standing over her, fire backlighting her silhouette as all Chaeyoung saw were glowing brown eyes.

“I was not wrong, then. A Trickster hath found this abode.”

This new lady did not fuck around at all.

“Fare thee well Trickster. Mayst your soul find Tech Duinn.”

Chaeyoung immediately dropped her form, humanoid body finding purchase on the floor as the spear still pinned her to the ground.

“Wait, wait, wait! It’s just me! Chaeyoung!”

The lady froze.

And there was a knock on the door.

“Ji? Chaeng? Everything alright in there?”

Chaeyoung immediately saw her chance and took it.

“Dahyun! Save me!”

The lady immediately snapped to her.

“Silence, Trickster! Lest I inflict the same injury twofold!”

The door opened, and there Dahyun was, eyes squinted in gentle confusion as she pushed the door open.

“What exactly is going on here?”

It was a little hard to explain, but Chaeyoung was at least glad the college student had interrupted before anything serious happened.

“She’s crazy, Dahyun! She stabbed me out of nowhere!”

The lady hissed, hand flexing forward to grab the spear.

“T’was you that snuck into my chambers, snake.”

Dahyun sighed, a common sound to be heard in the apartment.

“Ji, can you please pull the spear out of Chaeyoung’s stomach?”

The witch faltered, eyes blinking up at Dahyun.

“But…my love, she is a Trickster. Left unchecked, she would see that the haven fall.”

Chaeyoung let out a squawk of indignation from where she was on the floor.

“Excuse you! I live here, too!”

Dahyun crossed her arms, clearly disgruntled already.

“Please, Ji.”

The lady begrudgingly took her spear, sliding it out of Chaeyoung’s stomach. Chaeyoung immediately scrambled to Dahyun’s side.

“Geez, that really hurt, you know!?”

Spear in hand, the lady rolled her eyes.

“Thou art a Trickster. Thine wounds heal in the mere blink of an eye.”

“Still! You hurt my feelings!”

“Chaeng.”

The subtle hardness in Dahyun’s tone had her flinching. Uh oh.

“What did we say about pranking people?”

Chaeyoung sputtered a defense.

“It was harmless!”

“Really? Becoming a venomous snake and biting her while she wasn’t looking?”

Damn it, Mina.

“Okay, well, mostly harmless!”

“Just apologize, please.”

Chaeyoung let out a groan. Seriously, no one appreciated the humor of her jokes. They were funny, okay?

“Do I really have to?”

“If you don’t, you’re not sleeping with me tonight.”

Chaeyoung’s eyes immediately widened.

“Woah, alright! No need to get too hasty!”

She turned to the witch with a grimace, the other woman crossing her arms and waiting.

“Ugh…fine. I’m sorry for turning into a snake and trying to poison you.”

She sniffed, turning her head.

“If this be Dahyun’s will, then so be it.”

Dahyun sighed again.

“Well, this is the best I’m going to get from either of you. But in the future, none of this, alright?”

She turned to Chaeyoung, the Trickster shrinking back.

“No more venomous snake pranks…”

She turned to the witch, whose eyebrows were furrowing in confusion.

“…and no more stabbing.”

A brief moment of silence.

“Fiiine.”

“Very well, my love.”

Dahyun nodded approvingly, before taking Chaeyoung’s hand.

“Come on. Let’s go to sleep before you make anyone else angry. Good night, Ji.”

“Farest of nights to you, my love.”

The door closed behind them, and Chaeyoung let out a sigh of relief as the Lady of the Sanctuary led her by the hand, very much like a parent would to a naughty child.

“You’re lucky we love you, Chaeng.”

Chaeyoung snickered to herself. She may not have been able to prank the new girl properly, but at least she was able to do the whole snake thing.

“I really am.”

Together, the two walked to Chaeyoung’s bedroom together, tucking each other under the covers and sighing into each other as they drifted off to sleep.

Later on, she would get in trouble for attempting to do the same to Sana, and her defense would be that she was only told not to transform into any venomous snakes, so normal snakes were free game.

[queen-tashie]

Writing Whispers

Tagged by @mrbexwrites (go check out her post!)

Rules: find a few paragraphs of writing from as long ago as you can. Re-write them how you would now.

Leaving this one as an open tag today! :)

I actually have a good comparison project from my very first attempt at writing (and finishing) a novel!) It's from an old high fantasy project that I never did quite get round to finishing, but did attempt to re-write one NaNo a few years back.

2008 - from the first novel I ever tried to write, so early on before I really understood what writing meant to me that I didn't even have a placeholder name for this story, the file is literally called "Second Draft Novel." It's also not a second draft haha, just a second attempt at it with a different starting angle. (bonus points if you can manage to understand what the characters are from this excerpt)

Valdore flew up into the air. Arian jumped up after him. Failias followed Valdore, trying to block whatever Arian might do to harm his brother. Arian spun around and did a swift kick, knocking Failias to the ground. He jumped up after recovering and head butted him in the stomach. Arian winced, but wasn’t shaken by it . He flew towards Failias, and grabbed him by the neck with both hands. Arian hurled him into some rocks on the river, making a loud cracking noise. Failias went limp. Valdore, who had been flying up very high, dove straight at Arian. He dodged it with amazing speed. Valdore almost hit the ground, then turned around to find his brother right behind him. Valdore was pinned to the ground, unable to move. His head begun hurting terribly again. The scab had come off and he was bleeding.

2023 - how I'd write it now (if I decided it was a good idea to try to resurrect this horrible idea XD)

Before Failias could stop him, Arian threw his weight at him with a kick, knocking Failias to the ground. Arian wasn't letting his brother escape this time. Failias kicked off the ground after Arian, gaining on him quicker than Arian had expected. With thick horns, Failias headbutted Arian in the gut, stopping him dead in the air and knocking the wind from his lungs. Arian gasped for breath as he grappled with the bastard, the father that abandoned him. No, he was his father no longer, just an obstacle between him and Valdore, his brother. When he caught his breath, he spun in them the air, still connected to Failias but his grip was faltering. He gained momentum enough to throw Failias from his grasp, sending his back into the cliffside below. He impacted the cliff with a crack and went limp as he fell to the river below. Suddenly Valdore was on top of Arian, clawing at his eyes and neck. Arian tried to shake him, but Valdore pressed on, driving the two of them towards the ground. Just before impact, Arian rolled in the air, placing his brother between him and the earth. The impact still hurt. A lot. But Valdore took the brunt of it, and judging by the massive wound in his skull, Arian had finally succeeded.

[patxhwrk]

hi, i recently found your blog and omg i love your writing sm! if it isnt too weird, i was hoping to rq an imagine for zhongli tartaglia ayato and itto where the reader can use abyss magic and maybe transform too? they prob fell into the abyss like tartaglia but after they returned they just wandered teyvat instead. maybe their bf figures out when they use their powers to protect them? tysm if you do! 💙

Omg this was so interesting and fun to do!!

I never thought of this concept, so thank u for requesting it!

-ˋˏ✄— Into the Abyss

ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: Genshin Men With Reader Who Can Use Abyss Magic !

Characters: Arataki Itto, Kamisato Ayato, Tartaglia, Zhongli

Pronouns: not mentioned

.navigation. // .genshin impact masterlist.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ Arataki Itto | Hanamizaka Heroics

It was just another day of beetle fighting for Itto

He had caught a good one this time, and he knew it

You were there on the sidelines, watching him running around, hyping himself up

He had invited one of the Arataki gang members to battle with him, and they did

The beetles wrestled for a bit, before pushing at each other and then—

"WOO! That's a win for Arataki 'numero uno' Itto!"

His beetle won!

"Did you see that, Y/n!? That was cool, wasn't it? Haha, of course it was, I'm Arataki Itto, after all!"

Smiling fondly at his cheering form, you failed to notice the approaching electro whooperflower, aiming straight for the Onikobuto in Itto's hand

You only found out when it had jumped at him, startling him, and wresled with the whooperflower for his beetle

"HEY! Back off! This is mine!"

It wasn't much of a threat as it is amusing

Until the whooperflower started using electro on Itto

"Ow! Ow, ow, OW!"

You quickly sprinted over towards them, placing a hand on the whooperflower's head before it disappeared into a cloud of abyss, stars of the night sky sparkling in and out before dissapating

"Whooperflowers are always so annoying," you said, failing to notice Itto's wide eyed stare at your hand

"YO! What was that!?" He asked, standing up and staring at you

Not in fear, but in awe

You blinked, before realizing what you had done

"It was so fukin' shiny and sparkly—like the sky! But...I haven't seen a vision like that in all my life. Do you even have a vision?"

You smiled, already exhausted

But for Itto, maybe you'd take a while longer to explain

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ Kamisato Ayato | Pillar of Fortitude

Being Kamisato Ayato's partner meant you were protected by both him and the Yashiro Commission

But that doesn't mean you were meant to let your guard down

"You know, my dear, I don't see the need to carry such a weapon when I will be here to protect you," he teased

Shaking your head, a soft smile on your face, you adjusted the sheathed blade on your side

"Who knows, Commissioner, I might be the one needing to protect you."

"Oh? And why would I need protecting?"

You stopped on your tracks with Ayato right beside you, peering over your shoulder at the ever-so dark Chinju Forest, eyes squinted

"Because you might just miss enemies like that."

A hydro abyss mage, protected in its shield

Ayato wouldn't do much with his vision, but before he could unsheath his blade and tell you to stay behind him, you've already made your move

The abyss mage was quick, but you were quicker

Sprinting towards it and jumping over a bubble meant to capture you, you slid under its shield and sliced at the its backsiee, an abyss mark following your blade before the shield immedietly disspersed

The abyss mage fell on the ground, and before your blade can pierce it, it chuckled at you, and quickly disappeared

"Tch, they're getting faster," you mumbled, sheathing your blade and turning towards an awestruck Ayato

"Hello? Earth to Ayato?" You waved a hand in front of him, snapping your fingers a few times

He placed a hand on the back of your head, shoving your face on his chest

"Ah, to think my own partner has such strong abilities. It is truly an honour to call you mine," he said

"Although, I'd like to know, what exactly was that?"

He knows what it was, he just wanted you to say it

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ Tartaglia | Childe

You were sparing with Childe

That was how you both usually spent on your free time

Blades clashed, his hydro swords against your iron forged one

Even if it was just sparing, you both wouldn't let your guard down

So at the feeling of another prescence approaching, even if you were both battered and bruised and worn out from the battle, you both turned towards the intruder, ready to fight

And from the trees stepped out a lone mitachurl, a shield in its hands

Probably strayed from its pact

Before Childe could take a step towards it, you were already on your feet

The mitachurl brought its shield into the air, before thrusting it down to the ground and spinning

You jumped above its head, your blade discarded onto the ground as a swirling black hole of abyss magic formed on your hand

Landing a foot on its head, you brought your hand down to the mitachurl

It let out a cry before collapsing

Your feet now on the ground, you dusted your clothes before turning back to Childe, who stared in confusion

"Uh— huh?"

"Are you alright, Tartaglia?"

His head process the events prior, and suddenly his eyes widened

"That was abyss magic, wasn't it?" He exclaimed, finally processing what had happened

"Wait... how are you faster than me!?"

It seems like he has priorities, though

"Fight me again, Y/n! I want to see what your power can do!"

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ Zhongli | Vago Mundo

Taking a stroll around the mountains of Liyue was something you and Zhongli both enjoyed

The calm breeze that brushed past you, the birds singing songs and the beaming sun

Although you both couldn't avoid the enemies that would cross your path

This time, it seemed to be two geo vishap hatchlings, rolling on the ground and towards you both, out of your sight

But you and the geo archon knew better

Turning around, he casted a shield around you both before preparing to make quick of the geo vishaps

Before a cloud of abyss blocked his vision

He brought his arms up, fanning the cloud away before glancing at you

Beside the two geo vishaps that now lay on the ground

Your sword, which seemed to be embedded with abyss, was clutched gently on your hand

It seemed like the cloud of abyss came from you, who had immedietly brought the sword out and attacked the geo vishaps as soon as they grew near

"I didnt know you had been acquainted with the abyss, my dear," he said

You turned towards him, a bit bashful

"Perhaps I owe you an explination..?"

"Let us finish our walk, first. You can explain once we've sat down in our own home."

—PATCHWRK !

[kirishimas-manly-eyeliner]

➶ WHAT MAKES THE MHA BOYS BREAK (PT. 1)

pairings: mezo shoji, tokoyami fumikage, hanta sero, izuku midoriya, shoto todoroki, eijiro kirishima, denki kaminari, hitoshi shinsou

warnings: reverse comfort, may or may not have cried a lil’ while writing this. this one hurt a lot but it’s so sweet and fluffy, enjoy luvs!! also lol you could see my favoritism for kirishima

part two with bakugo, iida, ojiro, tamaki, mirio, hawks, dabi, shigaraki, and aizawa is here!

WHEN YOU CALL THEM BEAUTIFUL: MEZO SHOJI, TOKOYAMI FUMIKAGE, HANTA SERO

MEZO SHOJI 

(HE’S SO UNDERRATED LIKE PLS Y’ALL 😩)

he starts panicking as soon as you ask him to take off his mask

at first, he declines right away before turning his face around so you couldn’t touch the fabric

“mezo, i promise. i won’t hurt you, or judge you i just- i want you to trust me, is that alright with you?” you said gently. “but if you don’t want to, don’t worry about it, ‘kay?”

could he really trust you? or would you leave when he found out he wasn’t a normal person with a normal smile, that he was a monster, that was someone who looked different, what would you do?

but if you didn’t love him for who he really was, then... what was the point, right?

shoji let out a trembled sighed in defeat as his dupli-arms took the mask off. he looked down in shame, eyes shut so he couldn’t see your reaction

but your reaction was... completely unexpected

"You're beautiful!!! Why didn't you tell me that you looked so lovely all this time baby??" 

did he just hear you correctly?

did you just-- call him beautiful?

and in that moment, in those small moments, you can see his geniune smile.

his real smile beneath the mask, as his eyes shine for the first time with sincere, and earnest love and thanks

pls keep him 🥺

TOKOYAMI FUMIKAGE

the moment he hear the words "you're beautiful" come out of your mouth, he couldn't stop thinking about it for days. 

and i mean days as in multiple days, so probably weeks

and he’ll probably think about it for the rest of his life

because when he looked at himself, he thought: what about him was beautiful? 

he didn't have human-like features like everyone else, he didn't have those big muscles and a nice body, because-- well, he had a bird head!

A LITERAL BIRD HEAD, so why on earth did you: you who had human features, you who was so nice to everyone, and you who could have gone for so many other people call him beautiful?

he didn’t have that charisma and extroverted personality like some others did, and he kept to himself 

why did you think he was beautiful? how?

but you were the one who said it. you were the one who reminded him, you were the one who gave him hope

and he knew that you were always straightforward with the truth-- and this was a truth, too

and to him, that was the most beautiful thing.

HANTA SERO

this amazing bby doesn’t get enough recognition

but for a good part of his life, he’d been surrounded by people with amazing quirks, levels of strength, and amazing appearances.

he was literally friends with bakugo fricking katsuki, and he was in the same class as shoto todoroki

when he first met you, he had to convince himself for days that there was no way that he could ever catch your eye,

until he did.

when you two met after a long day of training and you told him a joke, his eyes sparkled and he laughed, genuinely

before you knew it, you blurted out the words, “you’re beautiful” before realizing what you’d said and flushing

lol sero chokes on his water

“...did you really mean that?” 

“i- yeah, sorry, i didn’t-”

“no, uh, thank you. thank you so much.”

for the next few days, he stays up at night and keeps on training because he thinks of the time you called him, who constantly felt like he wasn’t enough, beautiful

and that was more than enough to make him smile. 🥺💕

WHEN YOU KISS THEIR SCARS: IZUKU MIDORIYA, SHOTO TODOROKI

IZUKU MIDORIYA

he immediately starts tearing up when you kiss them

most people probably expect him to get flushed with something so intimate, but it’s the opposite

his scars are just something that’s so meaningful to him because it’s evidence of what he’s been through

but at the same time, he’s also insecure about them because he feels like he disappointed his mom by getting hurt so often 🥺

when you kiss his scars and tell them that they’re beautiful, he starts tearing up because-- wow

this is the moment that he’ll remember until the day he dies, because it’s when he feels free to finally open up to you

it’s when he feels free to open up to anyone, for that matter, and a huge weight just gets lifted off his chest

you took his hands and kissed his knuckles before pressing your forehead to his

izuku begins to cry, just a little bit as you gingerly kiss his scars again

“you see? you’re safe. you’re safe with me, okay?”

he nods slowly. “th-thank you.”

SHOTO TODOROKI

you two were walking back to the dorms after training out on the field together

it wasn’t too late a night, just a few minutes before curfew

your hands were buried in your pockets as you two talked about your day and what you could improve on in training

“shoto, can i ask you a question?”

he thought you were mad at him for a moment 😳

“sure.”

you swallowed, as you took a breath, “can i touch your scar?”

he whips his head around, out of shock and confusion

you wanted to touch his scar?

shoto had never planned on anything like that happening to him, and especially not from someone who meant so much to him

“...i suppose so,”

you hid your anxiousness and swallowed, cupping his face in your hands as your hand brushed across his scar

a jolt went through your fingers at that moment, and it was the first time you’d ever felt so connected to someone

shoto todoroki, the prodigy and son of endeavor was letting you touch his scar

to your surprise, shoto melted into it as he closed his eyes, placing his hand gently on top of yours 

you could feel his hands shaking though his expressions were so relaxed

you kissed the side of his scar, running a hand through his hair

“i’m so lucky to have you.”

WHEN YOU COMPLIMENT HIS QUIRK: EIJIRO KIRISHIMA, DENKI KAMINARI, HITOSHI SHINSOU 

EIJIRO KIRISHIMA

eijiro cursed as he slammed his head against the wall for the hundredth time that day

he hated to admit it, but ever since the sports festival, everything had just been falling apart

for starters, he was already insecure enough on his own about his quirk

it seemed like everyone had something flashy and made them look invincible, while he was stuck with something that could only follow around his body and cracked if he used it too much

and that... that made him upset

but when the sports festival came around, not only did he see everyone with amazing quirks and using them to their full potential, tetsutetsu had nearly the same quirk as him

and to make matters worse, they had tied and had to settle it with a fist fight

“why?” he asked to himself, looking down at the floor. “why couldn’t i- why couldn’t i have been born with a flashier quirk?”

great, now he was crying.

at least no one else was around to see him this weak-

“kirishima?”

oh shit.

he turned around, his bloodshot eyes locking with yours. “h-hey,” eijiro said weakly 

“what are you- what are you doing here-?��� you noticed the way his body trembled when he took a breath and blood trickling from his forehead. “hey, are you okay?” you said.

eijiro sincerely had no idea what to say. “my quirk,” he looked down at his hands. 

you cocked your head. “what about it? i think it’s pretty neat!”

kirishima looked up. “really?”

“mhm!” you nodded enthusiastically. “it can be the strongest barrier, or the most powerful weapon! i think it’s cool that your body can just become a shield out of nowhere, it’s like-- it’s like you’re a shield, ya know? sure, todoroki might have his ice, but that makes damage and takes time to clean up, like midoriya’s punches or bakugo’s explosions. but your quirk is its own little thing! and i think that’s pretty neat.”

kirishima beamed. huh, maybe so. 

DENKI KAMINARI

“good job, bakugo!” 

“haha, nice job on that one, kirishima.”

“your quirk is so cool, todoroki! i love how the ice just went striaght through the roof!”

“nice jumping, deku! your punches are amazing.”

but i...

i was the one who helped the power come back, i was the one who literally fried my brain, i was the one who did all of that, and i-

i’m so weak.

denki inhaled through his nose, exhaled through his mouth, trying to stop the trembling in his breath as he closed his eyes

he had done so much, and what did he get in return?

all he wanted was to be someone, to be someone that made people smile, to be someone that people genuinely wanted to see

did anyone even want to see him?

“i’m a failure, i’m a failure, what am i doing, why am i so weakwhat’swrongwithmewhycan’tidoanythingright-”

“good job, kaminari!”

he turned his head, finding you running up to him and waving your hands up in the air

“hey! pikachu!” you exclaimed, trying to catch your breath once you stopped. “great job up there! you left before anyone else could notice, i can’t believe you managed to do all that. your quirk is so cool!”

denki’s heart swelled with pride, his eyes saying nothing but thanks.

your quirk is so cool!

“thanks, y/n! so, how do you feel about going to the arcade after school?”

HITOSHI SHINSOU

hitoshi stared at himself in the mirror, his eyes blood-shot and head fuzzy

“i’m not a villain.” hitoshi said slowly. “i can’t be a villain. i want to be a hero.” 

he splashed the sink water onto his face. “get yourself together, are you really going to let a few words hurt you?”

but hitoshi couldn’t help but feel that way-- what could he even use his quirk for- no, no, he could use it for so much. but...

“ha! a quirk such as yours should be only used for villains, you monster! you might as well get out of here before anyone else tries to kick you out.”

hitoshi screamed in anger, splashing the water across his face and pressing hard into his eyes, before slapping himself across the face

“get yourself together..”

“hey, shinsou!! i was wondering if-”

your eyes locked with his frustrated expression. “shinsou? is... something wrong?”

normally, he’d push you away, but-- but now, he really needed someone

your breath hitched when you saw his eyes land onto yours, but for some reason, there was something so lonely and upsetting behind them, before you remembered what a few students at ua had said.

you didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you were on a rush to get to school that morning and had to run ahead and pass through that area. 

“if it’s about what some of those idiots said this morning, just... know that i think, for the record, that your quirk is so cool.”

shinsou’s eyes furrowed in confusion. you? you thought his quirk was cool?

“i’m not lying,” you said, as if reading through his thoughts. “i really think its amazing. you can help so many people with it, you can change the entire world with a quirk as special as that, so act like it! because it’s true, your quirk is really amazing, and i’m pretty sure you’re the only one who doesn’t see it, you knucklehead.”

he doesn’t tell you this, but-

ever since that day, he’s never stopped thinking about it. 

🕭 reblog | comment | follow 🕭

hey bbys! reminder to go drink water if you’re reading this! water nourshies your sexc body and can make you feel a heck ton better ‘bout yourself-- and remember, whatever you did today was more than enough. ily very much, but if it’s past your bedtime, GO TO SLEEP KIDDO, ily!

qotd, what’s your favorite drink 👀

join my family! 

list of family members: @kirishimuhhhhh​​, @xuxisushi-1​​, @kirishima-my-beloved​, @msminsuga​, @farfetchedparanoia​, @satis-mangata​, @moonhere​​, @renegadedeca​​, @viridevi​​ <3

☂ requests are open for mha + hq!! ☂

[fortuositywritings]

Tattoo Heart

Summary: Tony and you make a dumb drunk decision. He gives you a tattoo.

“Um, what the hell, Tony! You said it wasn’t that bad.”

“It’s not! It’s well-proportioned. Really it’s the best heart I’ve ever drawn. I don’t know why you’re so upset. It could have been worse.”

“The heart isn’t the problem. You tattooed Wanda’s name on it!”

“Yeah, I can see why you’re mad.”

You poked your sore arm. Out of all places, he had to tattoo it on your arm above your elbow where everyone could see. Talk about bad placement.

You pout, “How am I supposed to hide this?”

“Baseball tee’s could make a comeback. You’ll be a trendsetter,” he suggests, not helping at all. 

You glare at him. “You’re paying for it to be removed.”

“I expected no less,” he concedes. You’re still touching the tender spot, frowning. He stops you. “Poking it is not going to make it go away.”

“Fuck! I’m never getting drunk with you again,” you vow. 

“You say that now, but come Friday night, whiteclaw in hand, you’ll have no recollection of this ever happening.”

“Getting a tattoo with your crush’s name on it is kind of hard to forget, Tony,” you spit out. He wears a sheepish smile. Speaking of the party on Friday, “Shit!”

“What?” Tony asks, clearly not processing the situation you’re in as fast as you are.

“Wanda’s gonna be there,” you remember.

“Well, yeah. It’s Pietro’s birthday party and they’re twins so,” he comments sarcastically.

“It’s a pool party. How am I supposed to hide this?”

“Just don’t get in the pool. Or you know what, just don’t go. Say you got sick,” Tony suggests.

“I can’t do that. She expects me to be there and I don’t want to let her down on her birthday,” you explain. Wanda had personally invited you to her party, saying you were going to be her partner for beer pong. 

“Fine. Don’t worry about it too much. We have all week to figure something out,” he reasons. You guess he’s right. No use in stressing too much.

Friday afternoon comes too fast.

You’re stressing as you look at yourself in the mirror. You look ridiculous. 

“You’re literally a genius and this was the best you could come up with?” you complain. You already feel yourself sweating. You hadn’t thought of what to wear. You only had your one piece bathing suit. Tony told you he had something and you trusted him. What he brought you, a long sleeve rashguard to wear over your bathing suit.

“Makeup was just going to wash off. We couldn’t chance it. This way, you can get in the pool,” he says. 

“I look like I’m going surfing, not a pool party,” you huff. 

“You look fine. If anyone asks, you burn easily. Now let’s go. Your girlfriend is waiting on you,” he rushes you along, grabbing your stuff for you. You throw on some shorts and slip on some sandals.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” you mumble, blushing as he pushes you out the door.

“Oh, I know. This wouldn’t be such a big deal if she was.” He closes the door.

Pietro opens the door for you and Tony. You both hug him and congratulate him on another year of being on this earth or as Tony puts it, “Congrats on being one year closer to death!”

Technically, their birthday is tomorrow but they always have a birthday dinner with their parents, so they celebrate with their friends either the day before or after. You and Tony hand Pietro your present for him. 

“Just don’t open it in front of your parents,” you warn. He decides to unwrap it right then. You roll your eyes at his impatience to wait until tomorrow. To his satisfaction it’s running shoes with a bottle of alcohol in each shoe. He laughs, thanking you for his present. He notices you looking around, searching for a certain somebody. He already knows who you’re looking for. 

“She’s in the kitchen,” he tells you, a smirk appearing on his face when you blush at being so obvious. You thank him and go find Wanda.

As Pietro said, she is in the kitchen fixing some appetizers to bring outside. What you weren’t prepared for was her already in her bikini, like she’s ready to jump into the pool. Her two piece bathing suit doesn’t leave much to the imagination but you’re quite the daydreamer it seems. You’re snapped out of your trance by Wanda clearing her throat.

She wears a smirk much like her brother’s and you splutter an embarrassed, “H-hi! Happy Birthday. You, uh, you look good. Great! You look ready for the pool.”

She smiles, amused by your awkwardness. “Thank you. You look ready for the beach.”

You blush. “Yeah, I burn easily,” you lie and quickly move on, handing her the present you got her. “Here.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she says, but you shake your head. “Of course I did. It’s your birthday tomorrow. You can open it now if you want. Your brother did.”

“Unlike my brother, I can wait. Let me go put it in my room. I’ll be right back. Wait here,” she requests. You nod and she leaves with her present. You respectfully turn your gaze to the appetizers, not wanting to ogle her backside. 

“Cowabunga, dude! What the hell are you wearing?”

“No way. I almost wore the same thing. Good thing I didn’t or that would be embarrassing.”

You roll your eyes, turning around to see Sam and Rhodey, both clearly amused by their own jokes. You give them an unimpressed look and they laugh harder. 

“Haha. So very funny,” you deadpan.

“Seriously, Y/N, why are you wearing that? It’s like a thousand degrees,” Rhodey asks. 

“Maybe I’m insecure and you guys laughing just makes me feel worse? Maybe thought of that?” you retort, but neither buy it. They look at each other and start laughing. 

“Insecure, my ass. You almost give Tony Stark a run for his money in the size of ego,” Sam says between laughs. You just roll your eyes.

Wanda returns to find the guys pressing you about the long sleeves. 

“Hey, Wanda. I think you might have given Johnny Kapahala the wrong address. She’s gonna be late for the competition,” Sam jokes and you hate that you get the joke. Wanda doesn’t and looks adorably confused. All she knows is they’re referring to you so she looks at you for an explanation but you ignore her in order to throw your own remark.

“At least Johnny wasn’t afraid to swim at the beach,” you bite, making Rhodey and Wanda laugh and Sam take offense.

“There are sharks!” Sam defends himself, making you all laugh. 

The three of you help Wanda bring out the appetizers to the backyard. They’ve got a table and a bunch of chairs laid around. Wanda asks if you’d like a drink and goes to fetch one for the two of you while you greet other friends. 

“You didn’t want one?” You ask her when she returns with only one drink. “If we’re going to be beer pong partners, you can’t leave me drinking alone.”

She giggles and takes a swig from your drink. “Happy?” She asks when she returns the drink to you and smirks upon seeing the slight blush on your cheeks. 

You get a few more remarks about the rashguard but with a few drinks in everyone’s system, the pool is more enticing than poking fun at you. You didn’t plan to get in the pool but with a simple “come on” from Wanda, you’re cannonball jumping into the deep end. 

Once it’s dark, you all begin to vacate the pool in order to play games. You and Wanda play two games of beer pong seeing as neither of you are very good and you think you’ll surely be sick if you play another round. 

You eat, you dance, you sit around and talk to your friends, and Wanda is with you the whole time. It’s midnight and you’re right beside her as everyone sings for her and Pietro. She hands you the first slice of cake, which you eat standing up just to stay next to her as she cuts a piece for everyone. 

It’s nearing 2am as people begin to leave. Wanda and Pietro make sure everyone is getting home safely, either taking a LIFT or having a designated driver. You and Tony stay later to help the twins clean up, which they greatly appreciate.

Almost an hour later, the house looks as if there hadn’t been a party. You and Tony wish them happy birthday once more before he pulls out his phone to call an Uber. The twins insist you two stay, that it is way too late and they’d feel better if you do.

Tony wiggles his eyebrows discreetly at you when Wanda invites you to sleep in her room. You spare him a warning glance before following Wanda to her room. She offers you some pajamas and hands you a long sleeved tshirt like you ask. You excuse her questioning glance saying you get cold at night. 

You change in the bathroom. When you return, you find Wanda also in her pajamas sitting on her bed with the present you gave her earlier in her hand. 

“You want to open that now?” You ask, amused at her eagerness to open it.

“I mean it is my birthday now,” she reasons. You nod, closing the door and going to sit next to her. “Or is this one of those ‘open when you’re alone’ presents?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “What kind of presents are those?”

“One of those romantic ones like in the movies that show that you’ve always loved me or something,” she replies. Your palms feel sweaty all of a sudden with the way she stares at you. She reads the nervousness on your face and takes pity, continuing, “Or a vibrator.”

You burst in giggles. “Damn it. How’d you know?” you joke. 

It’s not a vibrator, obviously. You got her two necklaces, one gold with her name and the other sterling silver with her initials.

“I was going to just get you the gold one but then I thought maybe you wanted one to match all those rings you wear so, that’s why there are two,” you explain.

She puts the box aside and throws her arms around you, pulling you flush into her. “Thank you. I love them.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I could totally return those and get you a vibrator if that's what you want,” you laugh. She pulls back immediately, a frown on her face. 

“No, they already have my name,” she protests, pulling a chuckle from you. She hands you the golden one that says ‘Wanda’ and asks, “Will you put this one on me?”

At your nod, she twists around, turning her back to you and sweeping her hair up. You struggle with the clasp a little due to your nervousness, but you get it. Had you paid closer attention, you would have noticed how Wanda shivered at your touch. 

She turns back around and you admire her with your gift around her neck. “It looks great on you.” 

She leans toward you again and you assume it’s to give you another hug, which you wouldn’t mind one bit, but she doesn’t move her head to the side the way one does to hug someone. Her nose bumps into yours and you realize she’s going to kiss you. 

For some damn reason you pull away before her lips reach yours. She looks embarrassed and begins to apologize, “Sorry, I misread that. I thought with the present and the way you’ve been looking at me all day, shit.”

“No, you didn’t misread anything,” you reassure her. She relaxes. “Can we try that again? I was just nervous, but I’m ready now.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Wait.” You get up and make a show of shaking off the nerves and pumping yourself up before you sit back down. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

She giggles, grabbing your face and pulling you into her, kissing the life out of you. She moves to lie back on the bed and you follow her lead. You’re kissing and it’s getting hot and she tugs on your shirt. You remove it without a second thought. You begin kissing down her neck pulling sweet noises when you leave a love bite. She gasps and grips your arm, right above your elbow. 

You flinch in pain. The sudden intake of breath tips her off and she pulls her hand away. She asks worriedly, “Are you okay?”

You remember the tattoo and the fact that it’s not so hidden right now. You start to panic. “Yep, why? Are you okay?”

She narrows her eyes in suspicion, but you kiss her with the intention to make her forget. A minute later, she does it again, grabbing right on that spot. You try not to, but she hears the small groan and she pulls away. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong,” you lie. 

“Then why do you flinch every time I grab your arm?” She moves to grab your arm again to prove a point but you move it away.

“Nothing’s wrong with my arm,” you deny. She sits up and reaches for your arm. Once more you pull out of reach. 

“Y/N, let me see your arm,” she demands. 

“Okay.” You try to save yourself from some of the embarrassment by explaining, “But before you look, just know I did it on a drunken dare and I didn’t know until the day after what Tony actually wrote.”

That piques her curiosity and she shuffled around you to take a look at your arm. You can’t watch, so you hide your face behind the palm of your other hand. You expect her to either laugh at you or get upset, but moments pass and you don’t hear anything. 

You get the nerve to look over your shoulder at Wanda. She looks indecisive about what she wants to say, but she doesn’t look mad. Finally, she says, “I guess I don’t have to ask if you like me or not.”

You groan in embarrassment, hiding your face again. She laughs and pulls you into her as she lies back down. “Don’t laugh. It’s embarrassing enough getting your crush’s name tattooed on you. I don’t need her to actually make fun of me.”

“Aww, you have a crush on me?” she coos. 

You pull away, giving her a deadpan look. “No, I get girls’ names tattooed on me all the time.”

“Having your crush’s name tattooed is embarrassing,” she agrees.

You narrow your eyes, thinking she's just making fun of you now and that was the last thing you need but she continues, “So how about we say it’s your girlfriend’s name?”

Your eyes widen. Wanda bites her lip nervously, waiting for your answer, and that’s how you know she’s serious. You blush, “That would be less embarrassing.”

“I think so too. So what do you say?” She asks, wanting a clear answer.

“I would love to be your girlfriend,” you answer.

She smiles and kisses you. You can’t help the giddy laughter that comes after. 

“You know, he didn't do too bad. It’s pretty well-proportioned.”

[juyeoniemyhoney]

make you feel my love

Losing means nothing to Ishikawa when he has you.

pairing: ishikawa yuki x reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

warnings: i don’t think there’s any!

word count: 2074 words

A/N: i honestly dont know who wants to read this but im just gonna post it anyways HAHA so here all you ishikawa simps pls enjoy<3

--------

It all happens at once.

The noise— screams of all pitches and encouragements of all sorts, forming a raucous cacophony in the large gymnasium— halts almost immediately; like a vacuum has sucked it all up and the only thing that is left is an eerie stillness as everyone waits in antsy anticipation for the player to serve.

And then he is running up, throwing the ball great lengths into the air and jumping to meet it halfway, hitting the ball with such force and determination you can almost feel the impact yourself. The ball hurtles through the air and crosses the net with such speed you almost don't see it.

But the Japanese team does. Their libero, Yamamoto, crosses the court in a flash and bumps the ball up so high up it gives his teammates half a second to breathe before they are rushing to connect it, the setter, Sekita, tossing the ball higher in the air for Ishikawa to hit it.

The tall Brazilians loom over him like a curse, like bad karma, as determined as the Japanese are, but not nearly as desperate. Ishikawa does not mind them and he bravely hits the ball with as much strength as his worn out body allows him, sending every last bit of energy into this spike, hoping, praying, practically begging for it to work, for the ball to hit the other side of the court with such violence that the Brazilians would not be able to even react before it hits the floor.

The next thing you know, the ball hits the hands of the Brazilians and is spindling down towards the floor at breakneck speed. Yamamoto, Sekita and Ishikawa (when he lands), all throw themselves to the floor in a desperate bid to save it, to not let it touch the floor, to not let all their hard work be washed down into a drain. But to no avail.

The ball hits the floor with a resounding thud. The whistle blows and all at once, the Brazilian supporters leap from their seats and yell and scream and shout with unadulterated joy. Because they have won! They have won the game! And the Japanese have lost. The Japanese team and their supporters are quiet in the wake of their loss. You do not move, almost as if if you did, the bleachers would crack open, the earth beneath the gymnasium would cave in and you would be falling to the floor, through the soil and to the core of the earth.

The three men lift themselves up from the floor with the weight of defeat on their shoulders and their teammates pat their backs silently, looking solemn but trying to be as encouraging as possible. The team gathers at the end line of the court and another whistle blows, signalling both teams to bow. When Ishikawa's eyes hit the floor, so do the tears.

He cries in silent agony, somehow feeling like it is all his fault. He is the captain, he should have led them better than this. He is the ace, he should have been able to hit pass those blocks. He knew hitting hard was risky, he should have been more careful. He should have moved faster, reacted faster, gotten to the ball faster. He should have been sharper, more alert, better. He should have been better.

His teammates shed a few tears too, but not quite nearly as much as Ishikawa. It's unrelenting— his tears. It doesn't want to stop, even when Ishikawa roughly wipes at his eyes in frustration, desperately wanting the raw showing of emotion to stop. Everyone can see him cry in this moment and he hates it.

When Ishikawa and his team begin to move off the court, is when you break from your stunned daze. Quite frankly, you were shocked speechless. You knew Brazil was a tough opponent but your faith in your boys would always trump any form of doubt. You knew they could do it. You knew they would be able to do it. Until they didn't.

You do not see the tears from quite so far away, but when you do, you are ripping yourself from your seat with such great speed, the people around you jump in surprise. You do not care, you do not even really notice before you are sprinting down the stairs, leaping from each flight, ignoring the desperate calls of your best friend and the shocked expressions directed at you as you race to the exit of the court.

"Ishikawa Yuki!" you yell just in case you don't catch them in time. You know you could just call him or meet him at his house but you came as a surprise, and though you'd wish you could surprise him after his victory, you think that surprising him and being able to comfort him in his loss will mean just as much.

At the sound of your voice, his head whips around, eyes wide in shock as he desperately searches the people for your face, eyes glassy with unshed tears and vision slightly blurry. You jump off the rest of the stairs, running to him with flailing arms. And when Ishikawa sees you, you swear you see his lips pout, eyes glossing over as tears run down his face.

You grin and run to him and he drops everything, his water bottle, his towel, his jacket, everything, so that he can hold his arms open for you to run into and give him a big hug. And you do exactly that. You run straight into his arms, wrapping your arms around his torso and shoving your face into his chest, not caring at all that he is drenched in sweat (and possibly tears), not caring at all that almost the whole gymnasium full of people can see the two of you have such an intimate moment, not caring at all because Ishikawa Yuki, the love of your life, is in tears and you have to do everything in your power to stop that.

Ishikawa's arms wrap around you too, holding you so tight and dear to him, you swear the both of you stop breathing. And with you in his arms, he finally crumbles to the floor, tears spilling from his eyes and sobs escaping his throat in ugly, high-pitched hiccups. But he doesn't care, you don't care, he's safe as long as you're here.

"When did you get here? I thought you were only going to touchdown tomorrow," he whispers in between sobs, his shaking, swollen hand coming up to your hair and entangling his fingers with the strands messily. You pull away slightly and pull Ishikawa down so that your chin rests on his shoulder and he can bury his face into your neck, your hand coming up to his sweaty hair to run your fingers through the corse, tangled strands as Ishikawa continues to cry in your arms. This position is so incredibly uncomfortable. After all, Ishikawa is insanely tall and the top of your head doesn't even really reach his neck, and you're sure Ishikawa's back is going to hurt a little later but he doesn't seem to mind at all at the position change, indulging in you as he shoves his face into the crook of your neck, hot breaths that tickle your skin, coming out in pants as he struggles to control his sobs.

"I wanted to surprise you," you say with a fond smile, the hand that was idle on his back coming up to send a wave to his teammates when your eyes meet, even sending one to his coach, who just smiles bitterly at you. His teammates send you rueful smiles and thumbs-ups of approval before they make their way back to the locker rooms, leaving you and Ishikawa to continue embracing at the exit of the court.

Ishikawa lets out a tearful laugh, saying, "Well, I'm surprised alright. I was just thinking about you when you called my name. I almost thought I was seeing things.".

You laugh but do not reply, allowing a comfortable silence to take over as Ishikawa lets all his emotions out in the form of hot, regretful tears. Your hand continues to soothe him with pats and strokes to his back and your hand remains in his hair. Ishikawa's large hands fist your shirt at your waist as his tears and sweat seep into your shirt. You don't mind. Of course, if this were anyone else you would. But this is Ishikawa Yuki, and you love him more than anything else in this world.

"You played so well," you whisper after a while of silence. You can feel Ishikawa wanting to pull away from you but you do not allow him, knowing full well that he wants to pull away to argue with you, to debunk your words with his incessant humility, so you do not allow him. You do not allow him to deny himself the praise he very much deserves because he's worked hard for this, no matter the outcome, he and his teammates have worked his ass off for this, and the least you can do is praise him.

"Yuki, you played very well. Don't try and deny it," you say with a firm voice, hand on his head keeping his chin to your shoulder. At this, he finally laughs and you loosen your grip, allowing him to pull out of your embrace just enough for him to see your face.

His cheeks are tear-stained and his eyes are beginning to puff up with all his crying, red beginning to bloom at the corner of his eyes, slowly taking over the white. His smile is nothing short of breathtaking, swollen eyes and red lips curled up brilliantly, smile lines and the corners of his eyes creasing sweetly. You can't help but grin back when you see his smile, nose souring with endearment.

"You know me so well," he comments, fingers coming up to tuck strands of your hair behind your ear, fingers trailing down your jaw to your chin, tilting your face up just a little bit more. His fingers guide your head just slightly forward before he is meeting you halfway in a sweet kiss, grinning immediately after your lips meet his.

Ishikawa's eyes trace over your every feature, observing, remembering, ingraining; tracing over the curve of your eyes, the slope of your nose, the perk of your lips, the peak of your eyebrows, and the line of your jaw, fingers ghosting over each feature along with his eyes, all the while maintaining the smile on his lips.

Then, he is giving your forehead a sweet kiss before pulling out of your embrace fully, turning around to pick up the things he had dropped when you came running into his arms. He brushes off his jacket and drapes it across your shoulders, holding open the jacket for you to slip your arms into the sleeves, to which you do, before he is hooking the zip and zipping it all the way up to your chin.

In his mind, he laughs at the way you are dwarfed by his jacket. Your hands can barely be seen, only the tips of your fingers peeking out from the sleeves, and the jacket, where it usually ends at his hip, ends almost at your knees. Unconsciously, he smiles and has to physically restrain himself from pinching your cheeks.

After he zips up his jacket, he bends down to pick up his towel, draping it over his shoulder before he is bending down once again to pick up his water bottle, having set them down to help you put on his jacket. Then, without a word but with the largest, goofiest grin, he takes your hand in his and leads you out of the court and to the locker rooms in a comfortable silence, fingers intertwined with yours.

For a second there, he almost forgets that they lost the game and are not able to proceed to the quarter-finals. For a second there, he almost completely forgets about his regrets and anger and frustration. And it's all because of you. And of course, he is eternally grateful to you. After all, what on earth would he do without you? He would still be crying his ass off, that's what, though he would never admit it out loud. And it is because of this reason— though he would do it without a reason at all— that he kisses you a little longer, hugs you a little tighter, loves you a little more.