#•| ⊱ paragraphs ✿ your words in my head knives in my heart ⊰ |•

[gwiyeounsonyeon]

May Writing Challenge Day 19!

Pairing: Regulus Black x Muggle Born Male Reader Summary: Regulus' letter. Words: 656/200 Warnings: ANGST, Canon compliant(After Reggie's death) Notes: ooh this ones got a little kick. The lack of proper paragraphs is intentional.

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To my lover,

I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know none of this is your fault. I have been heading down this dark path for a long time and there was nothing anyone could do to stop me. I face death in hopes that one day we can meet again and you will know that all I have done was out of love for you.

R.A.B.

You read his words through a wall of tears, your breathing grows rapid and heavy as you sob. You clutch his letter to your chest and wail at the dark sky, unable to hold it in any longer. This was the end of the world, it felt like nothing existed anymore save for the water stained parchment in your trembling hands. He was dead, your Reggie was gone and he'd never come back. He’d never get a funeral, He’d never get a grave, and Merlin knows his dreadful mother would never let a mudblood step foot in the Black Estate. Memories were all you had and even those were too dreadful to think. Echoes of your last words to him ring through your mind and you sob harder, you had been so angry, so sad, so terrified of losing him you pushed him away and now he was gone.

--

“It’s not like I can just leave.” His words are sharp like knives pushed into your heart, “That's what you want, right? You want me to leave?” Your words get stuck in your throat and you stand there grappling feeling like an absolute moron. You had to say something, you needed to convince him to stop this but he’s right. There isn't anything either of you can do now, not with him this far in. “I’m leaving tonight, to get this over with for good.” Your gaze snaps up to his face, his expression is firm and grave, your breath stutters as you hold yourself back from sobbing. “You can't be serious Reg.”

---

“You can’t be serious Reg!” You laugh as you unfold the locket engraved with your initials and his. You don’t look up in time to see the softness in his gaze or the smile threatening the corners of his lips and when you do look up you pull him into your arms faster than either of you can get a look at each other, “This is the best Christmas ever.” You whisper into the crook of his neck.

---

Your eyes flutter open as the sun filters in through the gap in the curtains, you nose pressed into the crook of Regulus’ neck, his scent bringing a calm that nearly puts you right back to sleep. You don’t close your eyes because he's still sleeping, you pull back carefully from his neck to look down at his sleeping face. He looks so peaceful, so undisturbed by the world around you.

---

As you sit leant against a pillar in the astronomy tower you stare up at Regulus’ constellation. Your mind dark and twisting your memories into thoughts of how he might look now, where he might be now. You’ve long since stopped crying, now holding the locket in the palm of your hand feeling the worst sort of emptiness. It feels like someone cut a hole in your chest and now you have nothing to fill it back up as your heart bleeds. Regulus’ constellation above you shines like he's still here, watching you from above. Soft footsteps sound from behind you but you can't find it in yourself to care if you’re caught. Sirius sits beside you silently, you look over at him but can’t find any words to say. Not that you needed too, he wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you into a hug. You gasp for air that feels like it never comes and sob into his shoulder holding onto him tightly.

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A/N: I know i really should be taking a break from posting for the weekend but i couldnt help myself

[ellssbellss]

Lavender Roses ~ Kyoya Ootori x Reader

pairing ~ Kyoya Ootori x reader

In which a rational head hides a generous heart, but you have always known how to see past his walls and help him bloom into the gorgeous rose he is. Enjoy a slow burn between an honor student and our beloved glasses character!

Happy 1 year to Lavender Roses and this entire, wonderful blog. Without you, this story wouldn't have reached as many people as it has. From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much.

-> summary: "But not anymore. You haven’t been alone for a long time, (Y/n), not since you joined the club. Not since you met me."

-> word count: 25.6k (she extra, extra long just for you)

tw! the scene on the cliff gets a little intense, mentions of blood, demeaning language against women, slight PTSD, weaponry (knives), verbal assault, physical assault, sexual misconduct.

legend:

(M/n) - mother's name

(n/l) - native language

(s/c) - skin color

see masterlist! masterlist

taglist: @abbysblogsstuff @sunukissed @kisskissshutmydoor @idonia-dovahkiin @greensnakegoblep @vervainnnn @desert-fern @delievia @obeythemasters @luca-nightshade @sweetandsourwrites @wrzloyd @1234567890nono @inactivecrofters @katiebwalczak03 @reader3 @radical-bunny @stevexbucky404 @localgaytrainwreck

The Sun, The Sea, and The Host Club

Silence was so underrated. 

Before the host club, you thought of yourself as a sole extrovert. At the wish of your mother, you did everything you could to make solid connections with the kids in your year, flapping your wings from friend group to friend group, thinking that social fulfillment was a simple blueprint of friends, tons of conversation, and no alone time. 

But then you would come home, and the minute you stepped in your room, your energy would deflate like the school bag next to your desk, setting it down with a thud!. 

The comforter on your bed would dip, giving way invitingly as you sprawled across the duvet. It would hug your figure, caressing every tired muscle and massaging every sense that might’ve been overstimulated. Familiar air would flow through your nose and into your lungs, and you could finally just sit in the silence. 

Your stomach would dip in guilt, even as you selfishly indulged in the absence of sound; of people. The people in your school were nice, polite, and didn’t necessarily do anything for you to not want to be around them. It’s just that there was no connection. No undeniable force that pulled you to them, no little ball of light in your stomach after spending time with them. Maybe a business connection was made, but no connection of personality, of soul. 

There was a connection, however, with the silence. With your parent’s interesting habit of constant travel, you learned to respect your own thoughts and instincts, and they became a reliable companion in your never-ending search for genuine companionship. Maybe a few had made their way past your standards, like the boy you kissed under the tree, or maybe a student who sometimes traded her lunch for yours. 

But the silence was really your friend. 

You didn’t realize how much you could fully enjoy it until you met the Host Club. Until you met Kyoya. 

Because now, you had someone to enjoy it with. 

On the same duvet, you laid on your stomach, casual lounge wear draping over your body like a soft breeze, comforting and refreshing compared to the uniform you were forced to adorn. Knees bent, your ankles crossed in the air above you as you flipped a page in your textbook, highlighting the most important sentence in the paragraph with a bright yellow highlighter before switching to a new color for secondary information. Your head rested in your hand as the other threaded the blue highlighter through your fingers, the sound of plastic clicking against the rings on your finger adding to the sound of typing and the occasional sigh. 

Next to you, Haruhi reclined. Instead of her stomach, she rested on her back, your pillows supporting her weight as her arms braced a book. She was nearly at the end, her eyes focused as they zigzagged down the page before shifting to the next one, engrossed in the storyline of her historical fiction. 

Reading the passage you were on until your eyes had gone crossed, you turned to Haruhi to ask how her book was going before a sharp twang hit the back of your head. 

A pen fell onto the bed, and Haruhi met your eyes in surprise before you both heard snickering behind you. 

Rolling your eyes, you turned to see Hikaru and Kaoru fight to stop their shaking shoulders as they went back to their Nintendo games. Their thumbs turned the joysticks with no real purpose; they just wanted to look innocent. 

It didn’t take much thought for you to chuck the highlighter in your hands back at them, smacking Hikaru in the forehead.

The two armchairs your mom had picked out to accent your bedroom made it hard to escape your impeccable aim as you sacrificed another writing utensil, a pencil thumping against Kaoru’s chest. The twins gasped a little, before they smirked and shrugged, placing the study tools on the small table between them, making it clear you were not getting them back. 

A frustrated growl lovingly rumbled in the back of your throat as you turned to rifle through your bag, intending to pull out your entire pencil case for more ranged weapon options, before your eyes met with a deep brown.

Mori arched an eyebrow at you as he sat on a bean bag that decorated your floor, encouraging a silent conversation between the two of you. His eyes squinted slightly, as if to say Don’t do it. 

Scoffing, you gestured lightly to the gingered haired brothers as they continued to ignore you, mischievous smiles playing on their faces as they watched the interactions between you.

The stoic just shook his head, his earphones dangling lightly on his ears as he turned his attention back to his phone which was probably playing a youtube video on martial arts. Mori always thought he could learn more about his practice. 

Your shoulders dropped as you huffed, but in your heart you knew he was right, lest you wanted to litter your floor with anything and everything you and the twins found to throw at each other. This time, you shuffled through the case trying to find a new highlighter, or anything to underline what you needed to in your book. 

You came up empty, the bag only consisting of lead containers, cool erasers, and a few expo markers. And who would ever use dry-erase markers on paper?

Next to Mori, Honey kneeled on the floor as he watched you rummage through your bag that leaned on your bed frame, once, twice, and then a third time as your luck didn’t improve. Curiously, he looked down at his coloring book, the rolling meadows already colored in a deep green with a bright yellow sun in the corner. The boy-lolita’s plump cheeks rose as he thought of an idea, grabbing the green and yellow colored pencil before pressing the tops of his feet down on the soft carpet. 

Standing up, he toddled over to your side of the bed, passed the bedroom couch that Tamaki slept on, and laid the two colors out in front of you.

Seeing that his height only allowed him to barely see over your mattress, when you saw the things he offered you, you had to shift to the edge of your bed to hug him tightly, cooing a gentle thank you in his ear before letting go. 

His light brown eyes were bright as he just nodded, Honey’s blonde hair bobbing with the movement as he started to walk away, but you caught his shoulder.

Beckoning him back to you, you leaned down and whispered in his ear, your stomach almost hanging off your sheets.

“Could you also grab a red pen from my desk drawer?”

Always willing to help, Honey eagerly nods, padding across the carpet to the far side of your bedroom. As he gets closer, he realizes that he has no idea where you keep your pens, or really anything about how your desk is organized. How was he to find it without messing everything up?

Once his small figure makes it to your desk, he figures to ask the host sitting in your comfortable desk chair, a pair of glasses reflecting the light of a screen. 

A space on your forever cluttered desk was cleared for Kyoya’s computer. Blue and white light shines on the megane’s face as he types, switching between windows to reference his resources for a large research paper he is working on. 

When he feels a tug on his sleeve, the Ootori son utilizes his skill to be able to type without looking as he slips his gaze onto the martial arts master. Kyoya only pauses his menstruations when Honey looks pointedly behind him, and he turns his lean frame to see you watching the pair of hosts expectantly, spinning the remaining blue highlighter between your forefinger and your thumb. 

Rolling his eyes, he opens the drawer to his left, plucking a red ballpoint pen out from the stash you kept for moments like these and handed to his senpai before the clacking of his keyboard fills the air once more. 

And when Honey hands you your pen, a small smile is penciled on your face as you casually glance around your room. 

Your friends enhanced every corner in your bedroom, their presence secure and safe. Spreading your smile even wider, you go back to scanning the pages of your textbook, a contentedness warming your chest. Your definition of silence had changed into something that didn’t need to be hidden, but something that wanted to be shared. 

And you were willing to soak in that feeling forever, but you had no such luck.

Sharp heels clicked against the polished tile of your home, but before you had time to think about the fact that someone had broken in, your mother’s voice managed to carry through the mansion with ease. 

“(Y/n)! We’re home!” (N/l) reached the entrance to your bedroom.

Neck straining with the movement, you quickly broke your attention from your book and swung your legs over the side of your mattress. 

Passing the awakening Tamaki, your bare feet padded to the door of your bedroom and you peaked around the corner. 

Household maids, butlers, and anyone else employed by your family rushed past the mouth at the end of the hallway, finding the foyer that was right outside the opening. You follow their blurred movements as white uniforms come back the way they came, luggage piled in their arms and around their shoulders. 

You sweat dropped, your heart picking up speed as you turn to the host club behind you. 

Next to you, you saw a paused menu from the twin’s switches as they stretched their necks around you, trying to see who was calling for you. Tamaki was rubbing his vibrant purple eyes as he leaned on the back of the couch at the end of the bed, looking to a curious Haruhi to ask her what was going on? 

Honey watched you from his coloring book as he chewed on the end of a pencil before turning to Mori, who was still engrossed in his video, minding his own business. 

Kyoya still typed, and he too was ignoring the arrival of your parents, although you caught a not-so-subtle side eye behind the frame of his glasses. 

Uncertainty waved through your vocal chords as you held up your pointer finger to the group. “Uh, give me one second.” You stepped out before swinging half of your body back into your room, sending a pointed look at the twins. “Stay here.” 

And then you were gone. 

Your feet touched cool tiles as you made your way to the main entrance of your home, that chandelier still sparkling, even if no sunlight was pouring in. You hadn’t even realized how long you had been studying, considering the club had arrived early this afternoon. 

“Mom?” Your native language was confused on your tongue. At your call, she came around the corner that led to the kitchen, strikingly well put together considering having just come home from a two-week business trip in Belgium. Or what was supposed to be two weeks.

“Darling!” Your mother’s mouth twisted into a closed, but genuine, smile as she opened her arms out, hugging you deeply before parting from your touch. Your hold on her was loving, but still weary as you remembered what – or who was in your bedroom. 

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, because I am, but what are you doing back so early?” You put on a small smile as you watched her fly between one maid to another, directing them on where to put her bags.

“The meetings ran long, but that meant that we got to finish up a couple days earlier than we planned. Marney helped keep our schedule tight so that I could surprise you!”

A hesitant chuckle seeped out of you as you walked behind your mother, even if your heart skipped at the thought that she had wanted to come home early for you. 

“Well, you got me! I’m surprised!” Your tone felt too bright in your throat, but you released a breath as your mom walked straight past the hallway leading to your bedroom. “Where’s Dad?”

“Still in the car,” she replied, releasing her (h/c) hair from her ponytail as she made her way to the master suite, shaking the tension out of her roots. “You know how he gets about bringing germs from our travels into the house.” 

You hummed as you nodded. When you were born, your father had been so worried for his first and only child’s health that he had adopted the habits of a germaphobe. And being the incredibly consistent man he was, he never broke out of it. 

“But how was your day, dear?”

Your teeth scraped against the inside of your cheek before forming a reply. “It was good, just studied with some friends.” Not a total lie. 

“That’s it?” 

A small sigh left you. “Yeah, mom, that’s it.”

She hummed thoughtfully, but changed the subject, and you felt the silent judgment drip down your back, wetting your spine with its sludge. 

“You’ll never guess who I saw at the Belgium Conference.” You stopped in the door of her room as she pranced around her bed, lugging one of the suitcases into her arms and onto the expensive sheets in front of her. 

“Who?”

The bedroom light glowed a warm yellow against the darkness of the windows as she popped open the case by its latches. “Tomoya Arai.”

Your eyebrows raise. A sense of awareness washed over you, but you couldn’t quite place it. “Why does that same sound familiar?”

“You went to middle school with his son for a year or two before their family moved. Turns out they moved back to Japan a few years before we did!”

“Arai…Arai…” Your finger came up to scratch the wrinkle that had folded between your eyebrows. It felt salty on your tongue, the syllables releasing something recognizable, but the image was still a blur. You just shrugged. “I don’t really remember him.”

“That’s not surprising,” The woman ticked her tongue against her teeth. “His son was pretty quiet.” Rummaging through her luggage, her hands pulled out something wrapped in a thin, brown paper, too large to be another novelty pin. 

The package crimped from her featherlight grasp as your mother shifted it into one hand before walking away from her bed towards you. Behind the parchment, you could see a sparkly fabric, and surprise etched onto your features as she took the steps to place the gift in your palms. 

“Here, baby.” Her voice, one that would be yours in a few years, smoothed over your shock as you felt the weight of the clothing in your hands. You met her eyes again, still processing what she had given you.

“This…this isn’t a pin.”

“Or a postcard.” She said with a knowing smile as you stared down at the tiny diamonds dotting the dark fabric, still hidden behind the transparent paper. 

Having contained her excitement for the entire trip back from Belgium, your mother clapped her hands in front of her. “Open it!”

It took you a minute to hear what she said, but soon you were gracefully peeling back the tan sheets, gasping as a deep, royal blue was presented from behind its curtain. 

“Mom…” Once freed, the floor length dress billowed down to your feet as you unfolded it, the soft velvet fabric tracing against your arms and then your legs. You held it up as it winked back at you, the small, twinkling stars catching the light against the dark night of the gown. 

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” The thin straps of the dress were transferred from your fingers to your mothers as she turned it around to place it against your front, finding that it was the perfect length for your height. “Oh my god, I just knew it would look amazing on you.”

You tilted your head down as you watched the navy dress being held against your body. It was expensive and extremely formal. The straight neckline was held up by delicate straps, while the length of the gown was an uninterrupted starry night, save for a slit up your mid-right thigh. 

Could you even pull something like this off?

“Really?”

“Really,” Her eyes meet your own. “You’re becoming a woman, (Y/n), and this is the perfect dress to celebrate that.” Draping it over her arm, she handed the dress back to you as she busied herself with the rest of the luggage. You didn’t miss the extra spark in her step. 

“I want you to wear that to dinner tonight.” A manicured finger pointed back at you as she started to pull clothes from her suitcase once more. Fancy blouses and modest pencil skirts lined the contents, but their colors blurred together at the mention of dinner. 

“What?” Eyeing the lower neckline and the higher slit of the dress, the image of your usual Sunday night dinners came into your mind. Your dad in his t-shirt and expensive sweatpants, your mom with her hair undone and a casual dress swimming over her. And there you sat, glittering like a spotlight, trying to pull the slit of this dress closed before you could take a simple sip of water. 

“The dinner. You need to wear that gorgeous thing tonight, baby, to make a good impression.”

“A good impression?” You followed your mom into her bathroom as she rounded the corner, slipping her jewelry off to place them in the dish that had a little symbol of the (L/n) Tech gracing the porcelain. “For who?”

“Arai and his family. They are coming over for dinner tonight.” 

Again, the style of the dress came to the forefront of your mind, and you imagined tugging at the neckline uncomfortably in front of people you didn’t even know.

Stuttering, an awkward smile came to your face as you glanced down at the dress before lifting your head up to your mother once more. “Mom, I have plenty of business casual attire to wear for something like that. Why do I need to…to wear this?”

In the mirror, you saw a small pout form on the CEO’s lips. “You don’t like it?”

“No! No, I do!” Like a switch, the people-pleaser in you shined as you gestured to the sparkle of the gown. “It’s beautiful, really. It’s just…it might be a little inappropriate, don’t you think?”

A simper reflected back at you as your mom made a sweet coo before turning around and placing her ringless fingers on your cheeks. “You are a woman, (Y/n). A gorgeous, capable woman. Let the world see that.”

“I don’t see how a dress shows that I’m a capable woman.” Your squished cheeks deadpanned in her hold. 

“It doesn’t. It just amplifies it.”

Now her hands were on your shoulders, and you’re being pushed out of the room. Her painted nails grab your forearm as she swiftly exits her bedroom and turns back into the entryway, with you in tow.

Worry starts back into your bloodstream as she turns on her heel, intending to take you back into her bedroom. You tried to dig your feet into the expensive tile, but her tug was too strong, and you needed to distract her before she opened the door to find seven random people in your goddamn bedroom. 

“Wait, Mom! I, uh-”

“Don’t fight me on this, (Y/n).” The tone of a successful businesswoman laces into her speech, and you knew better than to struggle any further. With her back turned to your room, she flings open the door and grasps your shoulder. “Get changed, and meet us in the foyer in an hour. I’ll handle everything else.” 

With that, she shoves you inside, turning towards the entrance of your room. You hold your breath as she meets the curious, and slightly worried stare of each of the hosts, Tamaki and the twin’s eyes wide with uncertainty. 

Only a second of surprise wipes across her face before it settles into a confused, but welcoming grin. “Hi, boys.” Glancing at the brunette frozen on your bed, she adds, “And Haruhi.”

Your jaw was so agape, it nearly got caught in the door as your mother effectively shut it behind her. 

And suddenly you were frozen in your own bedroom, bare feet frozen to the ground as a dress that cost as much as a small country hung loosely from your forearms.

Your friends stare back at you as an awkward silence fills the room as they try to piece together the events that had taken place outside of your bedroom. Tamaki and Haruhi note the state of your open jaw, while Mori and Kyoya see the confusion in your eyes. Honey-senpai worries over his coloring mostly, but he takes a peak at your stiff, shocked stance. 

The golden hued gaze from the children of a fashion designer sweep past that, however, and spot the sparkling magnum opus that was being clutched close to your chest. 

Shooting up from their seat, Hikaru and Kaoru crowd around you, pulling the piece of clothing out from your firm grasp.

“(Y/n)...” For once, Hikaru is at a loss for words, his eyelashes sifting through each tiny diamond.”

Kaoru is just as breathless, his already light-voice becoming airy in his astonishment. “What is this?”

Blinking, the twin’s orange hair finally comes into focus as you process your mother’s unpredicted reaction to a group of boys in your room, but you decide to ask her about it later. “Uh…it’s…what did you say?”

Holding it up by its straps, Kaoru raises the dress up to your body, similar to how your mother had presented it, while Hikaru lays out the skirt, the velvet material flowing over your figure. 

“That’s beautiful…” You hear Tamaki’s voice in front of you now, and as he swoops into your view, you watch as the idiotic trio basically commit the dress to their memory. Their minds work with a great effort, picturing you in the dress, how the dark blue of the material would compliment the undertone of your skin. How the shape would accent your silhouette.

Tamaki’s mental theater shimmered, pink and gold lights bordering the image of one of his best friends dressed to the nines, looking glorious and worthy of the most valuable jewels. 

The twin’s imagination took a different approach, thinking of the dark-haired director that sat just inches away. 

But all three came to the same conclusion. 

“You need to put this on immediately.” As if the twin’s had temporarily transferred their telepathy to Tamaki, the trio looked you dead in the eye, dramatic determination swirling in yellow and purple irises. 

Finally shaking off the fact that your mother had zero reaction to seven random people in your room, you rolled your eyes, taking back the dress with a huff before draping it back over your arm. “I will, but you guys need to go.”

You looked at the rest of the host club, an apologetic tone glazing over your tongue. “My mom invited some old family friends over for dinner tonight. So, in addition to this,” you gestured to the dark blue fabric, “I need to get everything else ready in less than an hour.” 

Shrugging, the host club watches as a sheepish posture curls into your spine. “I guess this is the end of our study session.”

Haruhi, Mori and Kyoya give you a gentle nod as they each begin to pack up their things. The more vocal of the three smiles her pretty simper at you from the place on your bed. “Don’t worry about it, (Y/n), there’s always next wee-”

“You have to try on this dress! Right! Now!” 

“Tamaki!” You exclaim as your blonde best friend parks himself into your personal space, interrupting Haruhi’s calm response.

“Don’t ‘Tamaki’ me!” The prince suddenly spins you around, toward the doors leading to your en-suite bathroom. “You will march right in there and put that dress on for us so that we can see how beautiful you are!”

“Excuse me?!”

“We’ll help!” Two arms loop through your elbow as the twins support your weight and begin to drag you into the bathroom. You thrash slightly in their hold, digging your bare heels into the ground below you.

“Hey! Wait just a second-!” 

“Nope! Just like you said! We only have an hour!” Hikaru says, grunting slightly as he struggles to push you from your resistant position.

“Yeah, we wouldn't want to waste any time!” Kaoru reasons, and with one final push, the twins fall into the bathroom with you. The club watches as the force of your bodies swings the door on its hinges, shutting you and the twins out of their sight. 

Tamaki stands outside of the door triumphantly before a deep sigh emits behind him, one that he knows all too well. 

“Was that necessary? She just sprained her ankle a few weeks ago.”

The blonde spins to his best friend behind him as Kyoya fidgeted with his glasses. “Anything is necessary to bask in the light of beauty.” Tamaki declares in a lush tone, posing with a princely demeanor. “She is going to thank me when she steps out of there looking like a goddess!”

Kyoya was about to argue, but a noise behind the bathroom doors proved the point he was going to make. The ravenet quirked an eyebrow, his gaze going past his best friend and beyond, settling on the bathroom door as it shook slightly.

Tamaki turned back around as muffled shouting and banging seeped through the cracks, and Haruhi and Honey tried their best to conceal their laughter at what they could make out through the ruckus.

“Hikaru! Stop, I can do this myself!”

“Let us help you!”

“Kaoru if you don’t-, oh my god!” 

“You just need to put this on, and then-what the hell?!” A gasp breathed from his lips. 

“(Y/n), I swear to God.” 

“Put it down-!”

The hosts wince and freeze as a crash rumbles from inside the bathroom wall. There was a baited pause as the club listened for any sound of life from the twins, just in case you killed them.

The silence didn’t last long, to their near relief, before Hikaru’s voice rushed back into the scene. “Did you just throw a hairdryer at me?!”

“Wanna see me do it again?” There’s more rustling, and more shocked breaths.

Suddenly, Kaoru’s voice crept closer to the doorframe. “Shit, why does she have so many heating tools?”

The wood of the door creaked, and then burst open as the twins sprinted out. The host saw a blur of ginger and gold as the brothers ducked one last time, a lone curling flying through the air. It would’ve hit the wall if Mori didn’t catch it with one hand, barely looking up from his phone.

“Get out!” A final warning from you, and the door slammed closed again, locking the twins out of your sight, which was probably the best position for their survival at the moment.

Falling onto their stomachs, cat-like eyes fall onto dress shoes and then trousers as the twins land at Kyoya’s feet. 

Sheepish smiles appear on their faces as an annoyed grimace displays on Kyoya’s. They laugh awkwardly before both brothers stand, brushing themselves off and then straightening out each other’s clothes. 

An awkward laugh bubbled out of them as they re-tied their ties. “She’ll be out in just a minute.”

“You guys are the worst.” Haruhi mumbles as she hangs her bag from her shoulder, having packed up the last of her studying materials. 

Tamaki waved a flippant palm her way, a passive lilt in his voice. “She will be thanking us soon enough, Haruhi. How many opportunities does she have to get dressed up like this?”

“Speaking of…what is she really getting dressed up for anyways?” Kaoru asks, drawing the attention of every host to the twin brothers. 

“Yeah, a dress like that isn’t for a casual business meeting, that’s for sure.” Hikaru confirms.

“You think (N/n)-chan has a date?” Honey says, no longer distracted by the coloring book he put away. 

“What? A date?!” Tamaki whipped his head to the boy-lolita, his dramatics inflecting his tone. “(Y/n) said nothing about a date!”

“I can assure you…” The hosts’ attention is sharply drawn back to the door of your bathroom as it opens, the clicking of heels echoing behind you as you make your way back into your bedroom. “It is not a date.”

An amazed silence glazes over the room, expressed in wide glances and parted lips as your friends take you in. The last time they saw you dressed up like this was during the Ball of the Cherry Blossoms, or how you so endearingly called it when you thought back to the night everyone at Ouran danced under pink petals. And sure, they’ve seen you in the constant costumes and get-ups that really never seem to fit you just right.

But this dress?

God, this dress was made for you.

As you step into their view, the long, dark blue fabric hugs and caresses your figure with a divine purpose, enhancing every tasteful dip and curve that your body holds. A sharp neckline frames your collarbone with elegance as your hosts notice that you stand a little taller, more proud to look this good than you are letting on. The heels picked the front of your dress a little off the floor, but weren’t so high that the small train in the back was snuffed from its glory. The extra height made your refined hairstyle just that more pristine as you exited, putting it atop a higher mantle. The neutral, deep blue complimented every color of your eyes and skin, as if it’s one job was to enchant the very soul that was dressed within it. 

The twins and Haruhi shake the stars from your dress out of their eyes and glance at Kyoya, hoping for any sort of reaction. They could see that the ravenet’s gray eyes had softened, his stoic expression melting into something of…amazement? Surprise? Neither the little devils or the natural really ever got better at reading the club’s director, but they could tell that he was definitely trying to process the art piece in front of him. 

But if Kyoya had heard their thoughts, he wouldn’t agree. Not entirely. 

You could never merely depict something as material and fragile as an art piece. 

He thought you looked beautiful, of course. And the small diamonds that freckled the fabric that wrapped you so graciously clearly resembled something that should be placed into a museum. 

But to him, you were not only the person his heart had begun to yearn for just months ago, but his best friend. The person he put his trust in and someone he knew would be at his side for better or for worse if he allowed. His best friend, who was anxious and ambitious, creative and kind, had just stepped into a light that was nearly otherworldly. 

You were elevated, and his heart grew for the person he saw in front of him. 

“Wow (Y/n),” The twins gasped slightly as their hands reached up to their chests., “Be still our heart.”

You rolled your eyes as you fidgeted slightly, waving your hands at your friends who were staring at you. “Shut up.”

“Wow, (N/n)-chan! You look so nice!” Honey bounds up to you gleefully, rainbow-tipped fingers from his creative escapades reaching out to grab the skirt of your dress. Gasps from the twins and Haruhi blow past him as he rushes up towards your form with a gleeful smile on his face.

Suddenly, a hand shoots out, gently yanking him back by the collar of his shirt. Mori keeps a firm grasp on him as his cousin runs in mid-air for a minute before setting him down. The boy lolita’s blonde hair bounces as he glances up towards the older host. 

“It’s like a sculpture in a museum, Mitsukuni.” Mori’s deep voice carries over your bedroom. “Look, but don’t touch.” 

But, as Honey sulks slightly in Mori’s grasp, the stoic can’t stop a second unbeatable force. 

You feel weightless as you are lifted off the ground – long, delicate arms encasing your whole body in a firm embrace. Tamaki spins you around as he cheers and coos, his eyes almost morphing into a heart shape as he fangirls over you. 

“Mon ami! You look so cute! Why don’t you ever dress up for us like this?” His usual buttery voice becomes strained with excitement as he twirls you around. He drones on and continues to spin to the point where you think you might throw up all over your new dress if he doesn’t stop.

“Tamaki.” Your muffled voice vibrates against the cotton of his shirt. 

“...you need to wear this 24/7, every day of every week of every year!”

Vocal chords are constricted, and his name barely squeaks out of your throat. “Tamaki-” 

“...and then, we can match! I know this color would bring out my eyes, oh we would be so cute (Y/n)!”

“Tamaki! Put me down!” Your sudden volume startles him for a moment, allowing you to twist out of his grasp. Your room spins a little, the floor becoming uneven as you are sat back down, the thin, strappy heels on your feet not helping the situation.

Tamaki’s hands shoot out to your shoulders, helping you find your balance. “Sorry, amour. I just get excited when my best friend is so beautiful!”

Your smile still finds its way to your lips as those violet eyes stare down at you with a bright adoration. 

A small laugh bubbles past your lungs. “You’re good, Tamaki. Thank you.” Looking towards the rest of the club, you give them a nod. “Thank you guys, too. It means a lot.”

You had to admit, the dress did feel nice. The fabric was expensive, but stretchy, as it wrapped comfortably around your figure. It lifted and tucked nicely, while accentuating those parts you loved. Your mom really had you in mind when picking this out. 

“Alright,” You clapped your hands a little and gestured toward the door. “I think I have to kick you guys out now.”

“Awe, what?” Honey whined as Mori stood off of the bean bag chair, lugging the lolita’s bag onto his shoulder along with his own. 

“I’m sorry,” You say, clearly not wanting them to go. “You heard what my mom said, we have company coming over.”

“What kind of company?” A deep voice resonates. 

You look over to Kyoya as he lightly places his laptop into his messenger bag, his trusty dry erase board following suit. 

“My mom has a new aspiring business partner that she wants my dad and I to meet. I’m not really sure what they do, but apparently they are important.” You say as you pick up Tamaki’s bag, handing it to the blonde before folding up the blanket he was using to nap with. 

“Wow, a new business venture…” Hikaru says, already halfway out the door.

“Hopefully your mom isn’t spreading herself too thin!” Kaoru finishes, following his brother out as they both slip past you as they exit your bedroom. 

“Of course not! (Y/n)’s mother is a wonderful business woman. Don’t underestimate her greatness.” Tamaki exclaims as he and Haruhi walk into the hallway as well. 

Soon, your bedroom is devoid of the liveliness of your host club as everyone leaves. All except one.

You wait by the doorway, fidgeting with the ankle strap of your heel as it twisted unnaturally while Kyoya packed up the last of his things. 

“A new business partner. Interesting.” He says, slowly buckling his bag closed. 

Your eyes squint at his slow movements. “Yeah, I’m not sure what’s really going to happen with this family, but I guess it couldn’t hurt to reach out a bit more.”

“And I assume that this won’t affect the relationship your mother has with the Ootori family?”

A (h/c) eyebrow picks up while your shoulder hits the door frame as you lean against it. “Of course not. I wouldn’t let that happen.”

A final click is heard as the megane closes his bag and wraps it over his shoulder. “I would hope not. It would be a significant loss for either of us.”

Humming, you nod as his dark shoes clack against your floor, the director making his way towards you. “Significant indeed.”

Kyoya stops in front of you, a gentle smirk on his face as his gaze peers at you from behind his frames. 

“You look stunning, in case you haven’t heard.”

You laugh, the sound billowing out of your throat. “I think I’ve heard it too much.” 

Your eyes divert from his own, and you catch your reflection in a mirror propped against your wall. Scanning yourself, it’s too easy to point out the flaws, to pick out the things that you’ve had to grow up with. The things you’ve forced yourself to accept, but you knew that if a genie magically appeared in your grasp, your first wish would be to wish them away. 

Seeing a darker spiral in the distance of your train of thought, the path is interrupted by a softer, colder touch. Kyoya’s finger directs your stare from the reflection back to him as he puts a slight pressure under your chin. 

There is a more sincere visage on his sharp features as he draws a little closer. “This dress fits you well. Insecurity, however, does not.” 

Lips parting slightly, you swallow. The weight of his assurance for your potential is a shocking one, and through all the time that you’ve known him, you didn’t think that you could ever get over his constant belief in you. 

“Thank you, Kyo.”

Another tap from his finger before his touch is gone. “Of course.”

You smile up at him, appreciating the softness of the moment, before a familiar call bonus through the outside hallway.

“(Y/n), dear! Your friends need to leave! Our guests will be here any minute!” Your mother’s voice rattles in (n/l), breaking you from the bubble you and Kyoya had created. 

You let go of Kyoya’s fingers just as he lets go of yours, and you peek your head out of the door. “Coming!” You reply back in (n/l) before switching over to Japanese. “You ready?”

He nods, and the two of you begin to slip out into the hallway before you wince slightly.

“Shit.” You curse, gasping as a shot of dull pain pitches up your ankle. 

Cotton blurs into your line of sight as Kyoya appears in front of you, his hand coming to rest on your elbow in support. “Is your ankle still bothering you?”

“A little, yeah.”

Air rushes over your arm as his touch leaves you, but he offers you his arm instead. “I can be of assistance.” 

Gratefully, you sew your arm through his, pressing a little more of your weight into his side as you both begin down the hallway of your home. 

“Do you know the name of the family you're meeting with tonight?” Kyoya asks as you begin to walk to the foyer.

“Arai. Apparently I knew his son back in elementary school. Him and his parents are coming over for some kind of special dinner.” You look towards Kyoya as you both keep a calm pace with one another. “Do you know them?”

A contemplative hand adjusts his glasses as Kyoya thinks. “Hm, not personally, but I have heard of them. Arai Produce is one of the main sellers for most of the products Japan’s supermarkets hold. They focus on selling very natural and holistic goods.”

“Oh, so not really down your alley then.”

The ravenet shrugs slightly as the main foyer comes into view. “As the saying goes, to each their own. I can understand the desire to use more natural products in our day to day life, as the earth could benefit more towards it.” 

A small sigh blows over his lips. “But when it comes to the field of medicine, holistic followers tend to want to erase chemical medication completely. The research I’ve done shows that it should really become more of a balance rather than a battle to erase one or the other.”

“And the Arai's work to replace medications?”

“Not mainly, but they have advertised that most any common ailment can be cured with elderberry syrup and rest.”

You cringed a little. “Oh.”

“It’s not favorable, especially since they are such a large company with powerful influence.” Kyoya says, but when he sees the slight worry on your face he begins to look on a brighter side. 

“They are reasonable people, I’m sure. They would have to be in order to receive the professional following that they hold.”

You hum thoughtfully, “Good to know.”

He nods as you guys join the rest of the club waiting at the front door. 

“What took you guys so long?” Hikaru asks, arms folded while golden eyes catch where yours and Kyoya’s bodies meet. 

“Too busy making out?” Kaoru teases, an evil smirk coming onto his face to match his brothers.

A cough blocks Kyoya’s air pipe as your jaw drops and a deep blush forms onto your face. You wack both of them on the shoulder with a decent amount of force, playful betrayal coming out of each slap. “If you two don’t shut up, I’m going to go grab more of my heat tools.”

The boys laugh and the wince as the memory of flying hair dryers and curling irons flips back into their memory. “Okay! Okay! We get it, stop!”

“(Y/n).” The laughing stops, and the host club watches as you immediately straighten at your mother’s voice. Her heels click sharply as her face gives a warm, professional smile. “Stop messing around and say goodbye.” 

“Of course, Mom.” You turn back to your friends. “Thanks for coming, you guys, I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

Mori nods at you as Honey gives you a big hug. The twins push your shoulders gently as they look from you to your mom. “Thanks for having us, (L/n)-senpai.”

“Nice to see you too, boys.”

The gingers wave back to you as they walk out the door. 

“Thanks, (L/n)-senpai, your home is lovely.” Haruhi says brightly, bowing to your mother before giving you a hug goodbye.

“Always lovely to see you, Miss (L/n).” Tamaki says, bowing deeply as he takes your mother’s hand, kissing the back of it. 

“Alright, Tamaki, out we go.” You say, pulling your blonde boy away from your mother before she melted completely, the sweet blush coming to her face already starting to deepen. 

“And Ootori, you know you're always welcome here.”

You turn over your shoulder as you push Tamaki out the door to see Kyoya match your mother’s professionalism. If you squinted, you would see the stretch to their smile, and the stiffness of their stance, but the whining of the prince in front of you distracted you until you got him through the door.

“Thank you, (L/n)-senpai, for having us. I hope to see you at the next Ootori company meeting.” The ravenet bows with his hand over his heart, a perfect practiced position. 

“As do I.” Your mother replies and watches Kyoya walk out through her front door, towards her daughter.

Her teeth clench. 

Outside, the setting sun displays blends of purples and oranges descending into a dusk blue. Stairs descend into a large front yard, a home for rose bushes and lovely flowers your father picked out to keep the bugs away. 

Each host has a limo parked out front, shining and crisp against the evening night. Tamaki insisted that he could take Haruhi home, but you asked one of your drivers to take her instead, knowing she would like the alone time after being around all of you for most of the day.

“Bye, you guys, see you later.” You say while watching your friends pile into their respective vehicles and begin to leave. You all wave as they vanish into the streetlamps on your avenue.

Picking up the skirt of your dress, you begin to turn towards your home before a quiet rumble interrupts your movements. 

Just as elegant as those of the Ootori’s or the Suoh’s, the stretched automobile was pristine and well-established as it slowed to a stop at your doorstep. A man with salt and pepper tossed on his scalp stepped out of the driver’s seat. Suited with a dark jacket sporting an embroidered Arai on the vest pocket, he gives a respectful nod towards you as his fingers wrap around the car door handle. He pulls, and polished, dark brown shoes gracefully step onto the pavement.

Another man emerges, taller than his driver. Wearing a suit to match his shoes, who you can only assume to be Tomoya Arai rises out of his limo, pulling a finely dressed woman by the hand as he helps her out as well. 

His gaze is full of melted chocolate as it meets yours, and his lips quirk up with an immediate smile. 

“Miss (L/n).” The older Arai’s voice is warm and even if he is speaking at a normal volume, it’s deep note booms in the open space around you. Something familiar itches in the back of your mind, as if you’ve heard it before. “My, how you’ve grown!” 

Coming out of a slight shock to his family arriving so soon, you fix a welcoming, practiced smile onto your face. “Arai-senpai. Wonderful to meet you again.” Your arm delicately stretches in his direction, and he takes it, his smile growing. 

“Ah, well, it’s always wonderful to meet a young woman with a strong handshake. Please, just call me Tomoya.”

Nodding, you bow slightly. “Thank you, Tomoya-san.” 

His smile grows a little wider. “It might be better than my own son’s.”

“I’m not sure if I should take offense or not.”

Turning your head to the sudden voice, that sudden familiar itch grows. Brown hair, brownish-grayish eyes come into your vision as a lithe boy rounds the back corner of the limousine.

Suddenly, you’re back in middle school. Plenty of tables are lined up in your favorite classroom, but each one is taken as you’re running late. When you reach the doorway, you scan the room, hoping for an open spot. Your eyes pass a girl who you noticed had forgotten her lunch the other day, or you pass the boy who was the star of your school’s baseball team over the weekend. Both ignore you, as they are too busy talking with the people they’ve bonded with, the people in their own inner circle. 

Since this was the intermediate school that everyone in your area was assigned to go to, you had known these kids all your life, but had never really made any real, lasting connections, save for a few.

But, through the blur of your growing social anxiety, a hand shoots up. 

One, pale, lithe hand waves in the back of the classroom, gently and hesitantly as if whoever owns it is already regretting their decision of putting it up in the first place. 

Your eyebrows go up in surprise, but then you smile lightly when you see a boy with a tussle of brown hair and big eyes looking at you with a sweet reluctance. And when you start walking over to him, you see that reluctance change into surprise, then fear, then slowly emerge into a hint of excitement as this mystery boy tries to make his desk as organized as possible.

“Hi.” His voice was so young, so light. 

“Hey. Thanks for letting me sit here.” You say as you promptly put your hand out to offer it to his own. “I’m (L/n). It’s nice to meet you.”

The boy starts at your sudden gesture, but relaxes into an awkward smile as he shakes your hand lightly, putting the other hand behind his neck.

“I’m Arai, and it’s no problem. I know what it’s like to be running a little late at times.”

You click your tongue as you begin to pull out your school stuff, arranging them nicely onto the desk in front of you. “Unfortunately, it can be a little more often than just ‘at times’. I really need to get a new alarm system.”

“I live on a farm,” Arai begins as he taps a pencil onto the wood of his desk, “so my alarm system is just a rooster crowing a million times.”

Your smile morphs into a little laugh, and you shake your head. “Okay, not that kind of alarm.”

He laughs too. “It’s an acquired taste.”

Then, the bell rings, and you're forced to turn your attention away from a potential new friend.

That all seemed so long ago now as you clasped hands with that same boy, the same awkward smile playing behind his lips, but with some additional confidence.

“Arai, it’s good to see you again.”

The man before you brightens. “You remember me?”

“A little.” Breaking the handshake, you cross one arm over your chest and grab your elbow, a sweet expression on your features. “To be honest, it took a minute. Since you moved away after we first met, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

“That’s okay, it makes sense.”

“But it’s still nice to see you!” You say, hoping to put yourself into a better light. “There’s probably a lot that we need to catch up on.”

“Oh, there sure is! My boy here has grown in many ways, we are proud.” Arai’s dad slaps him on the shoulder, and the two of you are brought back into reality. As the setting sun comes back into focus, you realize that you have just been casually chatting with your mother’s esteemed guests on the sidewalk outside of your house for more than 15 minutes. 

Shit.

“Oh my, where are my manners?” A manicured hand flies up to your glossed lips as you angle your body to point towards the large double doors of your parents mansion. “Would you please come inside? My mother has prepared quite the night for us, I’m sure.”

Arai’s dad just laughs it off while his mother gives you a reassuring nod. Arai is pulled along by his father as they pass you and soon they are climbing the large stairs up to the main entrance. As you fall behind them, your professional facade drops slightly, and you pick up your skirt to take each step at a time. 

Watching Arai’s back, more memories begin to seep into your mind. Arai encouraged you on a test that you were scared for, both of you hunched over your notes to make sure that everything was in order. Or when he asked you if you wanted to see pictures of his new dog his uncle had bought him, and how you cooed over it for hours on end.

He was a sweet guy. Quiet, like your mom said, but also kind and supportive. You remember getting a little closer as time moved on, but he moved away pretty quickly after you two met. 

A sense of peace settles over you. After your mom sprang this dress and this meeting on you, you had been a little anxious about the whole thing. But re-meeting Arai and his family puts you a little more at ease, especially with how gracious they’ve been. 

This night might go better than you had pictured.

“And thank god we left, because I’m not sure how I would have gotten out of that.”

The entire dinner table erupts into a fit of refined chuckles and polite laughter as Arai finishes his story. Your napkin is pressed to your lips as you look to your side where he sits, and when your eyes meet, it causes even more laughter to bubble out of your throat at his complete shame of what he had done to prank one of his teachers in middle school. 

“Oh, god, Arai, what a tale, truly.” Your father says, his cufflinks glinting in the light of the chandelier. “Who knew you were so rebellious?”

“You know what they say. Boys will be boys.” Arai’s mother, Yuko, replies, as she has opened up more throughout the dinner that you were close to finishing. The two parents have another additional giggle at that comment before the table settles down into a more mellow energy.

Your plates have nearly been cleared, the dinner that the chefs made too well-prepared to be left on the white porcelain.  Conversation flowed easily when talking about business arrangements, but it took a little more encouragement for anecdotes of personal lives to be shared. 

A few wine glasses for the adults fixed that, however, and your father even let you have a sip or two when your mother wasn’t looking. By now, at the end of the night, most of the awkwardness had faded, and it had become an easy night with old friends. 

Your mother’s gold ring tapped against her crystal glass as she drank the last of her wine, her eyes meeting yours over the rim. 

“Now that we got all of the details out of the way, and had some time to relax.” Your mother drawls. “What do you think of this partnership, (Y/n)?” She asks, folding her hands below her chin. 

Straightening your spine, the attention of the table turns towards you as you answer. “I think it’s a wonderful investment. If Arai Produce is looking to build their own grocery stores, (L/n) Tech is more than capable of developing easy to use technology for their shoppers. I think we could do each other a lot of good.”

The CEO tilts her head to the boy sitting next to you. “And you, Arai? What do you think?”

“It’s smart, Miss.” Arai stumbles, also not expecting the question. “Since I’ve been working as a delivery boy, I haven’t really been involved with a lot of the networking that has led up to this point, but I’m excited to delve more into this partnership.”

Arai gives you a questionable side glance while your mother breaks her eye contact and shrugs, and you nod approvingly, giving him a small thumbs up. 

“And what do you think of each other?” Arai’s father asks as he cuts the last piece of meat on his plate and forks it into his mouth. “You two get along okay?”

Lip falling between your teeth, you look to Arai again, some of the awkwardness filing back into your systems. 

“Yeah, of course.” You reply, folding the napkin back into your lap before looking up to the head of Arai Produce. “It’s been nice getting to know the man Arai grew into. You raised a good son.”

Pride flourishes within the man’s chest, and he nods while keeping a smile on his mouth. “It’s good to hear you say that. It will be important that you two work well together.”

Smacking her lips as she swallows, your mother nods as well. “Yes, this deal will definitely bring our families closer together.” 

“I look forward to it.” Arai says, and you two share another kind smile. 

Your mom clasps her hands together and squeals slightly. “You guys are two cute! Dressed up to the nines and looking at each other like that! Arai, did you see (Y/n)’s dress? I picked it out just for her in Belgium.” She asks, using her fork to gesture to the midnight fabric gracing your features. 

“I did! I did.” His manner becomes a little sweeter and more reserved as he compliments you. “You look lovely.”

You roll your eyes playfully, a small smile on your face to play off the embarrassment rising through your sternum. “Yes, I know, thank you.” Another round of laughs chime through the dining room.

Arai’s father pats his stomach before stretching, his meal settling comfortingly into his gut. “This was great, (M/n), thank you.” He praises as he pushes out his chair, his napkin falling gently next to his empty plate.

Your father promptly leaves his seat, rushing over to pull out your mother’s before following some of your butlers to the coat rack where the Arai family’s jackets hang in wait. Your mom rises as well, much calmer as the heads of newly partnered companies. You and Arai follow behind as they chatter towards the front door.

Out of the corner of your eye, Arai leans over slightly and speaks quietly next to you, out of earshot of your parents.. “It was good to see you again.”

Genuine smiles came to you more naturally throughout the night, so this one wasn’t difficult as you turned to him. “Yeah, it was nice to catch up a little.”

“Looks like we will be seeing each other more often,” The delivery boy says, his signature awkward smile creasing his cheekbones. “It might be good to get to know each other a little more? I could give you my number and we could talk over a cup of coffee. Or, actually, you might not love coffee, but I’m totally fine with whatever you would want, if you chose the place!”

Puffs of laughter ripple from your lips at his backtracking, and you put your hand on his shoulder to stop his rambling. “Coffee is fine. Even if I didn’t like the drink, I still like the atmosphere. It’s a good place to get to know anybody, even new coworkers.” Light teasing breathes from your words, and you can see Arai visibility relax from your assurance. 

And as you arrive at the front doors, Arai sticks his hand out again, and you shake it, good nature winding around the both of you. 

“I meant what I said earlier. You look lovely.” His dark eyes turn to crescent moons as he smiles at you. 

“Thank you, thank you.” Looking down, your fingers play with the fabric of your dress. “I have a feeling my mother picked it out just to impress you all, so I’m glad it fulfilled its purpose.”

Arai chuckles along with you as he pulls his coat on. “You were very impressive. Very elegant.”

He looks at you then with a sense of admiration that you hadn’t seen before, and the feeling whiffs down your spine. Blush rises to his cheeks accompanied by a glint in his brown eyes, and you inhale a little more sharply before smiling and thanking him. Your family leads his family out to the top of the stairs that lead to the edge of the road. 

‘Goodnight’s and ‘safe travels’ are shared as you all say your goodbyes, and you stand with your mom and dad as the industrial farmers begin their drive home, catching Arai’s wave in the tinted windows. 

Your mother is still waving to them when she speaks behind you, a professional grin still etched into her features. “Arai is a nice boy. Driven, kind.”

“He’s cool, seems like a good person.” You say back, still waiting for their car to disappear into the night.

The tail lights glow red as the limo breaks before taking a left out of your neighborhood and into the night. 

Your mothers breath matches the cool spring breeze that winds into the dress she bought for you. “That’s good to hear. Seems like you two will get along nicely.”

With yours and Kyoya’s big presentation coming up on the horizon, your brain was in full work mode. Dedication shined through you as you briskly walked the halls towards the club room, flashcards grasped tightly in your fingertips as you worked on drafts for your opening statement. Books jostled in your bag with each step, and your mouth moved with the words on the index cards as you mumbled to yourself while gliding past groups of students. 

Weaving through students, the skirt of your uniform ruffles as you take the stairs two at a time, eager to meet up with Haruhi for a little study session she proposed. An extra packet of instant coffee, brand new pieces of mechanical pencil lead, and your favorite red and blue pens jumped in the side pocket of your backpack, preparing you for the long night of studying ahead. 

Blindly, your shoulder juts into the wood of the door to Music Room 3, pushing it open. The sound of the twin’s voices dull in your ear as your concentration sticks to your cards, and you barely register pieces of their conversation with Haruhi as it flows into one ear and out the other. 

“..the beach?”

“Of course!”

“But why?...”

“Don’t you remember what you said?” 

“You said you’d like to go to a real beach!”

Still, you let muscle memory take you to your favorite studying table. Across the pink tiles, cut across the-

Boof!

Plush, foam mannequins stand in your path as you run straight into them, knocking your index cards out of your hands. It wobbles on its stand on the impact and you panic, reaching out to steady it before it falls into the two around it. 

Why were there three mannequins just sitting in the middle of the club room? 

Wait, not three. 

“What the…” Looking around you, at least a hundred fashion statues scatter the tiled floor, each wearing a unique swimsuit over its fake form. “Where the hell did these come from?” 

“The twins.” A deep voice says next to you, making you jump a little before realizing that Mori had come to help you pick up your presentation cards. 

You bend a knee, thanking him before processing the sheer mass of swimsuits in the clubroom. “Why would they bring all these swimsuits all the way over here? Did Kyoya order them for another themed hosting session?” 

“No. We are going to the beach.”

“Well, yeah,” You sigh as Mori places half of your precious notecards into your hands, stacked neatly but completely out of order. “Not until the end of the week though. Not like I’m looking forward to it.”

“You’re not?” Mori gives you a raised eyebrow. “Why?”

Before you can answer, you hear questions come from seemingly nowhere as they fall through the maze of mannequins. 

“Is that who we think it is?”

“Do we hear (Y/n)?”

Disembodied voices branch out from the sea of mannequins, causing you and Mori to stand completely still. 

You clear your throat. “Uh, yes?”

Rustling is heard as some of the fashion forms are disturbed, rattling on their stands form an unseen force. 

“We’ve been waiting for you.” This time the voice was synonymous. 

“Why are you guys being so creepy?” You scoot a little closer to the martial arts master, but even the stoic couldn’t locate the figures of ginger and gold. Dark eyes scanned the bikinis and one-pieces, but he was looking in the wrong direction. 

Somehow, you feel twin tugs on the creases of both your elbows, and you're surprised when two annoyingly familiar voices appear on either side of you.

“(Y/n)!” Hikaru exclaims, and your body whips as they yank you back. 

“We have a surprise for you, too!” Kaoru states, and suddenly your being dragged through the array of swimsuits, not having time to admire any of them as your index cards float out of your hands and onto the ground.

“You little-, let go of me!” Wiggling in their hold, you can’t seem to break it as you’re dragged through the music room. Mori tries to chase after you, but your chance at being rescued deflates when he gets distracted by a maroon, seashell themed two piece. Hikaru and Kaoru throw you into a chair on the other side of the music room, ironically right next to the table Haruhi was studying at. 

As the twins step back, they pose in front of you, and even if they look smug, your temper simmers when you see genuine excitement in their stance. 

Leaning over, you whisper to Haruhi through the corner of your mouth.“How long have you been sitting here listening to their nonsense?” 

“Only a few seconds, but it feels like years.”

“Okay!” Kaoru points a finger out, ceasing any side conversations and directing all of your attention to them. “You know how we are going to the beach because Haruhi said she wanted to?”

“Did I really say that?” Haruhi challenges, and the twins deadpan at the natural host. 

“Yes, Haruhi. But here’s the fun part!” And suddenly, their aura becomes that of a talk show host, splaying their arms to display the many arrangements of swimsuits that held a myriad of designs and lacings. “We brought some swimsuits for you to choose from!”

“Some?” You say, quirking your eyebrow at, again, at least a hundred swim pieces. 

With the boys out of the way, you notice a particular swimsuit had been placed front and center, a baby pink one, with a modest cut set of bottoms and halter top, ruffles cascading down the front.  

Hikaru pushes it closer to the two of you, a persuasive smile on his lips. “Pretty cute, don’t you think?”

“Not that one!” A sweet voice sprouts in the crowd, and Honey makes his way to the front, using his supernatural strength to lug a tasteful blue-shaded one piece, a mock collar and a little ruffled skirt adorning the silhouette. “I think that this swimsuit would look much cuter on Haru-Chan!”

Putting a finger to your chin, you nod in agreement. “Yeah, actually, Haru would look nice in that shade of blue-”

“I don’t think you get it, Honey-Senpai.” After clearly being ignored, you reach over and take a sip of Haruhi’s lukewarm coffee. 

The boy lolita tilts his head as the twins lug Haruhi out of her chair, her already-exhausted-with-this-conversation state causing all of her deadweight to be putty in their palms.

“Just look.” Hikaru says, gesturing to Haruhi’s chest. “This uniform barely hides the fact that Haruhi is as flat as a cutting board.”

Coffee jumps to the front of your mouth as Hikaru makes his observation, and you have to cup your hand under your chin to catch any of the liquid that dripped over.

Swallowing, you gently set the cup back down. “I’m sorry, what?”

Kaoru raises a hand towards Honey’s suit of choice while the blonde hugs it protectively. “A one piece suit like that would only upset her because it draws attention to her lacking feminine physique.”

Together, the twins shove Haruhi into the direction of the pink bikini, imagining the honor student galavanting on the beaches of Fiji in the cherry blossom fabric. “That’s why we carefully selected this two piece suit, see? The ruffles help hide the fact that she’s so flat chested!”

A vein in your forehead pulses at their proud smiles, their teeth sparkling under the light of the clubroom’s chandelier. Gritting your teeth, you spring out of your chair to grab each brother by the ear, ignoring their whines as you drag them to the floor.

“I don’t know where you get off defining femininity, but before you go around calling people flat chested, how about you take a look in the mirror?” You cross your arms over your chest, nodding your head towards a full length mirror on the wall. “Go to the gym, and then we will see who the flat chested ones are.”

If you could have a large, red arrow point to their lithe, toned frames, you would. 

Rubbing their heads, they pick themselves off the tile. “Hey! What the-”

Your smile spreads into something cocky and sinister. “Not so great when someone comments on your body, now is it?”

“We were just stating the obvious.” Whines Kaoru, lending his brother a hand.

Hikaru scoffs at you as he straightens. “Yeah, we can’t apologize for being right.”

“Oh yeah? Alright then, you asked for it.” Cupping a hand around your mouth, you call out into the crowded clubroom. “Tamaki!”

The Hitachiians blanch, and they lunge to cover your mouth, but you’re too fast for them. “Wait, (Y/n), don’t-!”

“The twins are sexualizing Haruhi!”

A rumble is felt from behind the swimsuits before Tamaki leaps out, majestically arching over the mannequins with a battle cry, a bat in his hands as he lands and whacks at the two perverts. “You punks had better quit sexually harassing my little girl! I’ve had enough of you!”

The twins rush behind the table Haruhi was studying at as she sits there, trying to block out the events going on around her.

They pop their heads up onto the dark wood, watching as Tamaki cools down, but shudder at the way both he and you look at them, geared and ready for any other wrongly worded sentences. 

“So…” The brothers tread lightly. “We’re not going to the beach then?” Something in you feels a little relieved.

The bat falls onto Tamaki’s shoulder as he adjusts, the other hand coming to sit on his hip. “Who said we’re not going?” 

“Really?” You turn to the prince, a hesitant tone in your voice. “These two are just going to goggle over Haruhi all day.”

“Gross.” Haru pipes in.

“Agreed.” You confirm.

Tamaki boops you on the nose before giving you a wink. “Not to worry, mon ami, I have the perfect solution so these perverts will never get a chance to look at my little girl again.”

“Gross.” The honor student winces again.

“Agreed. And okay Tamaki, if you’re sure.” You draw out your reply, not really believing anything could keep the twins from being their lovable, disgusting selves, but you’re always hopeful for Tamaki. 

A tug on your sleeve causes you to look down and see big milk chocolate eyes peering back up at you with a pleading glance. “Can Usa-chan come too?”

“I have no problem with that.” Out of the mannequin woods walks Kyoya, poised and precise as he prims the edges of your index cards that you had forgotten in the midst of this fashion drama.

Long legs stride over to you as Honey celebrates with the twins, all three excited to be going to the beach. “You seemed to have dropped these.”

“Oh yeah, thank you.” Taking them from his grasp, you look them over, noting how they seem to have at least a sense of order compared to when Mori was putting them together. “Did you read them?”

Pale fingers reach up to adjust expensive frames as he nods. “I assessed them. There are plenty of introductions in that deck that would fit perfectly into our presentation.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I trust that you will be able to pick the right one.”

Shrugging, you move to shove them back into your backpack as you shine from the validation. “I’ll think about that later. It, uh, it seems the beach is coming up faster than I thought.”

“Huh?” That catches Honey’s attention as he breaks away from the happy gingers. “We’re really gonna go?”

“Why not?” Tamaki sighs, a content simper resting on his handsome face. “Let’s go to the beach.”

“So, why’d we come to Okinawa?” Slight distaste forms the twins' words as your group of hosts walk down the sandy beaches of Okinawa Island. The sunlight beams down onto you in glimmers, casting over your skin as the sand sinks in between your toes with each step. 

It’s a calming feeling, with Mori to your right and Kyoya to your left, the less talkative of the group keeping a serene atmosphere as the other four partake in light conversation ahead of you. Now and then, while soaking in each beam of sunshine and gust of wind, you’ll make eye contact with the club’s director. 

Sweet smiles were exchanged, but the silence wasn’t broken until you decided to reply, the comforting stillness making it easier to enjoy the scenery around you. 

“Because Kyoya’s family has a private beach here.” You explain, your voice carrying with the sea breeze. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Honey asks, and it's hard not to agree as you spot some large cliffs bending over the shoreline, and you can’t help but imagine the view from that high up, the things you might be able to see. 

And then your stomach forms little knots at what might be at the bottom of that view, making you focus on something else almost immediately.

Mori nods next to you, the sun reflecting admiration in his eyes for his cousin. “Yeah.”

Hikaru's shoulders slump. “But why couldn’t we have gone…”

“...to the Caribbean?” Kaoru suggests.

“Or even Fiji?” Hikarue finishes, and you scoff quietly, shaking your head at their ignorance to the beauty in front of them. The people you grew up with always wanted more, never being satisfied with what they had. 

But with fresh air whipping through your eyelashes and the black hair of a certain man beside you, it seemed like you had all you needed.

“Do you think a commoner like Haruhi has a passport?” Kyoya barely finishes his sentence before an elbow jabs him in the side, and stumbles a little before catching your disapproving glare.

Haruhi gives him a side glance, her deadpan expression clear in the sunrise. “You do realize I can hear you, right?” She tries to hide it in the pocket of her cargo shorts, but you can clearly see her attempt to flip Kyoya off.

You can’t help but laugh a little, and your heart grows warm with the people around you. It’s nice to have your family here. 

As your group rounds a corner of a large cliff, the peace is broken by what sounds like whimsical sighs and high pitched laughs breaking up the rush of the ocean. Looking to Mori with a furrowed brow, you pick your speed up, catching up to the twins before passing them completely, leaning around the edge to catch a peek of the other side. 

Your visage turns from confused to jaded as you see crowds of girls from your school, grouped up in cliques adorned with expensive swimsuits and cover-ups. They talk and smile, hands going up to cover faces as they talk about the latest gossip, hair-dos too intricate to be beach appropriate swaying too and fro with their laughter. 

Sighing, your head hits the rocks as you lean into them, connecting the dots in your head as the rest of the club meets you. 

“What the-” Hikaru cuts off his speech as he takes in the scene before him, and both he and Kaoru whip their heads around to glare at the person who was most definitely responsible for this. 

But all they find is a smirk, as Kyoya pulls his black book out from under his arm, and strides past you all like nothing is wrong. 

“What?” Smooth, deep tones fall over the six of you as Kyoya walks towards the mass of women, and men, you notice. “Surely you didn’t expect to have another day off, did you? So soon?”

“Yeah, actually.” Kaoru slouches as your group begins to follow the megane. 

“I think we all did, Kyoya.” You say, waving weakly at some of your regulars as you all get closer, trying to hide your displeasure.

“Don’t look so glum.” Pale fingers gesture towards a rock with a blonde form on top of it as Kyoya stops to justify himself. “At least you all got to sleep in. Tamaki has been getting requests for meetings since before the sun rose.” 

Sure enough, Tamaki practically glistened in the distance as a long line of guests ended with the prince of the host club perched on a boulder surrounded by shallow water with a dazed girl at his side. The whites of his smile shine in the sunrise, you watch as his finger comes to rest under the girl’s chin, saying something to make a blush crawl up her cheeks. 

Kyoya hums in satisfaction, a business owner relishing the success in front of him. Clicking his pen, he hooks it into his shirt pocket before continuing down the beach. “Breaks over. Get to work.”

Mockingly, you salute him before you make your way towards a few guests you recognize, digging up the energy to host and dazzle that you weren’t prepared to utilize. 

But two hands shoot out and stop you, boring into the pit of your elbow and pulling you back.

“(Y/n), did you really think you could host in that?” Kaoru’s voice plays in your ear as the twins, once again, drag you to an unknown place. 

Getting used to it, you hang limply in their grip. Your eyes travel down your figure at a simple sundress, something comfy and light to where in the heat of the sun. “Yeah? What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s basic. Too simple.” Hikaru states as your heels stop dragging in sand and start bumping over hardwood as you enter a hut of some kind, probably a beach-themed bathroom. “All those girls and boys out there need to be enchanted by you.” A judgemental eye sweeps over your frame before looking ahead again. “They can’t do that when you’re wearing something off the rack.”

An offended gasp flutters over your tongue, and your obedience is erased as you start wiggling in their grasp. “Alright, you know what? You both can let me go and suck my-

“Hello there!”

Interrupting your classy words, the twins open a door that reads Unisex across the front, and two incredibly similar women greet you, a sinister sparkle in their eye.

Stumbling as the twins set you on your feet, your brow twitches in confusion. “What is happening right now?”

“Bye, (Y/n), have fun!” Before you can react, the twins shoot out the door, getting out of range in case you decide to hurt them physically. “Make sure to pick something nice!”

The door slams shut, and you turn back to face the maids. 

“Hello, Miss (Y/n).” Says the lady to the right as they both bow, a shadow casting over their faces. “We’ve been instructed to make you over.”

Looking past them, you see rows and rows of bikinis and one-pieces, professionally displayed onto the same mannequins you saw in the club room. In fact, all of these pieces look painstakingly familiar. 

You grumble, another sigh pushing past your teeth as you complain under your breath. “Let’s just get this over with. 

“It’s so beautiful.” Tamaki watches as his guest’s eyes glaze over, the stretch of the horizon gleaming in her blue eyes. Her eyelids are hooded when she looks back at him again, and she gives him a look he’s seen a million times before. Something foggy and blissful takes over her face as she daringly inches her hand closer to his. 

“Tamaki,” her voice is like white chocolate, pouring over him with a sweet delicacy, “being alone here with you, and looking out into the sea, it feels like a dream.”

Tamaki hums, the white chocolate mixing with butter as he reaches to touch her cheek, his fingertips dipping into her hair and she leans into it. 

“It’s no dream,” He says, gazing at her with admiration in his eyes, “It’s real. And if I could have it my way, princess, I’d be in your dreams every night.” Gently, he pulls her in, resting his forehead against hers as she absolutely melts. 

As planned. 

“Oh, Tamaki.” Her voice says it all, and Tamaki’s heart feels a lighter, pride filling into his breath. Another woman was satisfied, feels cared for. A smile is carved into his lips. 

The smile falters, however, when scratchy laughter interrupts his moment. Tamaki grimaces as the twins run by, Hikaru and Kaoru performing their brotherly love act as they run after a volleyball, kicking sand up on their heels.

“Hey, wait for me, Kaoru!” One brother calls, a romantic light being shed over the two of them. 

“It’s not my fault! The ball is rolling away!” The other sings back, and their laughter pierces the air again, annoyance twitching at Tamaki’s brow. 

A tap on his shoulder breaks the prince out of his annoyance, and brings him back into the moment. He turns slightly to see Kyoya holding out his hand to his guest on the rock, who thankfully didn’t notice his loss of focus. 

“Her alone time with Tamaki is up.” The Ootori son declares, his voice loud enough for the infinite line of guests to hear as he helps the girl stand in the shallow water. “The next guest may proceed.”

In between the space it took to transfer guests, Tamaki took a moment to survey the beach behind him, watching his friends entertain their guests.

His violet gaze freezes on Haruhi, who is sitting on a picnic blanket under an umbrella, her antisocialism making an appearance as she separates herself from the large groups. A blue t-shirt sits comfortably on her torso, and he swears he watches her sink into it a little more as a breeze rushes by. She runs a finger through the sand, her knees tucked into her chest as she mindlessly draws before a hermit crab runs by her. 

Instead of scrambling away from the thing, Tamaki smiles as she simply curls an eyebrow at the crustacean before going back to doodling, her shoulders relaxing as they exist together.

His heart sighs. 

Moving along, Tamaki finds Mori and Honey with their guests, a red bucket in the smaller boys’ hand as he collects seashells and other things while Mori supervises. 

The beach stretches as he continues to watch, making it clear that someone was missing. 

“Hey, Kyo?” 

“Hm?” Kyoya’s focus remains on his checklist before beckoning the next guest over. 

“Where’s (Y/n)?” 

This draws Kyoya’s attention, a confused manner coming over him as he follows Tamaki’s gaze out onto the busy beach that was missing a certain (h/c) host. 

“I’m…not sure, actually.” The club’s director pointedly stares at the group of men and women making small conversation in the shade of one of the umbrellas, clearly waiting for you to show up. 

Tamaki watches as his friend's visage changes slightly, watching as Kyoya’s cheek dents. It took a couple of months for the prince to notice the director’s nervous habit, but one night Kyoya had only a few more minutes to turn in a complicated project the teacher had unexpectedly assigned that day, and Tamaki saw Kyoya bite the inside of cheek subtly as the minutes ticked by. 

Suoh was sure that while Kyoya was nervous for you, of course, he was always trying to think of what to do with all the guests that were currently not being attended too. 

This time though, he didn’t have to chew for long, as the blonde caught a glimpse of (s/c) skin wrapped in (f/c), and he breathed a little sigh of relief as he pointed you out to Kyoya. “There she is!”

Pointed toes glided quickly on the sand as you weaved through guests, dodging and waving to the crowds as you drew closer and closer to your own set of responsibilities. Your sore ankle was clearly not bothering you as you leaped out of the way of a rogue volleyball. You were a recognizable blur as the two men followed you with their eyes, seeing you stop only when you were in front of your guests. 

And when you did, both men swallowed. 

“Wh-what is she wearing?” Tamaki’s voice wobbled, stunned by your fashion sense for the second time that week. 

The (f/c) that tied around your skin was in the shape of a swimsuit, one that differed from the bikini you wore to the waterpark. It was clearly new, being absent of any wrinkles or tarnishes as it bent with your frame, and neither Tamaki or Kyoya had seen it before now. 

It also showed a lot more skin. 

It was to a level with which you were comfortable, but this piece was clearly meant to impress. Ties knotted at the back of the neck and at your hips, giving an illusion that the fabric might just fall off if you give it a good tug. The adjustability also made it easier for you to accentuate some areas, making it tighter and looser in the places you chose. 

Enticing energy channeled into the suit, and it was clear your guests thought the same. 

Tamaki began to panic a little, his overprotective nature kicking into full gear. “Where did she get that from Kyo, huh?” Wildness swirled in his eyes as he saw the men in your group inched a little closer to you. “They shouldn’t be looking at her like that! Why is mon ami dressed like that~?” 

His whine hitched as both hosts saw two tussles of ginger run around you, throw you a quick thumbs up, and ditch the scene. And when the boys looked closer, they saw a golden H reflect the hot morning sun against the swimsuit’s fabric. 

Kyoya and Tamaki frown. “Goddamn twins.”

But Tamaki continues to come undone. “I don’t care if she’s a host, it’s too much!” He thought you looked beautiful, of course, and although he would never feel that romantic pull when he was around you, he was still a man who appreciated a woman’s figure. 

He just would rather not with yours.

But before the blonde could leap off the rock and cover you with a towel, Kyoya broke out of his paused amazement and continued to wave the next guest over, who had frozen awkwardly, not knowing if he should advance or stay put in Tamaki’s outburst. 

“(Y/n) is a good host.” The megane’s voice sounded strained, so he cleared his throat to rectify it. “She’ll be fine. Let’s get back to work.”

But the image of you running on the beach, a pretty smile on your face as you welcomed greedy eyes roaming around your figure, never really left his mind. He didn’t take his eyes off of you.

Not that he wanted too. 

Around midday, the sun hung brightly in the sky, painting the beach with serotonin and heat as activities exploded into full swing. 

Somehow, you and Haruhi had managed to sneak a little ways away from the hosts, finding favor under a pink umbrella, a soft towel creating a barrier between sand and skin. Haruhi respired, still drawing shapes into the dirt. 

“This sucks.” Her chin rests on her knees as she talks, causing her head to bob. “I thought going to the beach meant a day off.”

You nod, breaking your attention from Mori and Honey, who were practicing Tai Chi with their guests in the distance. “I think everyone did.” 

“I guess it makes sense, though.” She draws a flower in the sand. “It’s a good business venture.”

“Sure it is. At the expense of our ability to have a relaxing time.” You both chuckle as you take a sip of your cold drink, some carbonation fizzling on the side of the cup. “It sucks that you can’t swim though.”

Haruhi just shrugs, her next art piece already in the making. “It’s part of the job, I guess.” She looks at you. “What about you? Are you going to get in anytime soon? You have a cute suit on.”

Another slurping sound comes from your straw as you look out across the endless amount of blue, and the knot re-ties itself in your stomach. “Maybe later.”

Three reflections appear in the glass, and a shadow casts over your figures as some girls appear behind you. Recognizing them as some of Haruhi’s regulars, you wave to them and excuse yourself, their voices fading away as you duck out of the umbrella. 

Pulling at the straps of your swimsuit, you try to dull the anxiety sharpening in your stomach. You have no problem showing skin, but the maids had forced you into something a little more adventurous than you were used to. It was the right choice apparently, as Kyoya will be pleased to hear that you nearly doubled your guest list today, but it took you a minute to get used to the seabreeze brushing against your exposed hips. 

For some reason, multiple people had taken an interest in pushing you out of your comfort zone this week, from your mother to the stylists. You were excited to change back into something more your style when the day ended. 

But you had to admit, every time you came across your reflection in the water, or your image in a phone camera, you couldn’t help but stand a little taller.

This dress fits you well. Insecurity, however, does not. 

The same could be said for your swimsuit. 

Soft thumps interrupt your thoughts as a volleyball rolls to your feet. Looking around, you see the twins running at you, waving their hands and gesturing for you to pick up the ball. Doing so, you meet them in the middle, handing it back to them as they simper apologetically, Hikaru scratching the back of his neck. 

“Hey, (Y/n). You wanna play?”

“We could use a fourth.”

“Who else is playing?” 

“Mori said he would try once he was done with his Tai Chi.”

Kaoru shrugged. “He didn’t really say it, he just nodded and told us to hold on a minute.” 

Shrugging, you turn back to Haruhi, who was surrounded by three blushing girls as she unknowingly glittered at them like an expensive treasure. 

Giggling, you turn back to the brothers. “Sure, Haruhi looks like she’s doing okay anyway.”

As you walk, damp sand tumbles around your toes, dusting the soles of your feet. 

“I can’t believe he fooled us.” Hikaru complains, tossing the ball up in the air.

Kaoru catches it before his brother can, twirling it on his finger. “Who’d have thought he’d bring the guests with us?”

“Yeah, well.” You scoff. “We certainly didn’t expect it.” 

“You were invited on this all expenses paid trip for a reason.” 

In the midst of your conversation, you didn’t notice that the three of you had passed by Kyoya, who was lounging in a beach chair, one of his favorite drinks at his side. “And that reason is to keep our clients entertained.”

“We know,” whines the mischievous twin, his shoulders slouching as his brother mirrors him. “But with the ladies here…”

“...Haruhi can’t change into her swimsuit.”

“That pink thing?” You say, picking up Kyoya’s drink and taking a sip. The megane rolls his eyes. “I’m pretty sure she didn’t want to wear that anyway.”

A satisfied murmur rises to the right, and you see Tamaki also relaxing, palms creating a pillow behind his head. “Don’t worry. I got it all under control.”

You all share a knowing, tired glance as a shimmering varnish washes over Tamaki’s purple eyes, a sure sign that the prince was flying to his own fairytale. “My little angel shouldn’t be prancing around in a swimsuit, at least not in front of two perverts like you.”

You almost gasped, offended, before the twins beside you groaned and rolled their eyes, and you realized your best friend wasn’t talking to you. 

In fact, he was talking to anyone at this point, his cheeks becoming redder as he spoke under his breath, his voice wispy and dream-like, fully engulfed in his own world. 

Folding your arms, you lean over to Kyoya as you watch a blissful smile spread across the blonde’s face. “Do you think, one day, Tamaki is going to go into his mind-theater and never come out?”

Kyoya was watching as well, his pen spinning in his fingers. “It’s possible. And what a silent, peaceful day that will be.”

But, alas, Tamaki suddenly squeals, curling in on himself as he rocks side to side in the plastic lounge-chair. “It’ll happen just like that! The greatest day of my life, I don’t know if I can handle it!”

“Is he going to have a seizure?” You ask, studying your prince as he squirms.

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Hikaru smirks, his hands coming behind his head. 

Kaoru follows his movements. “We don’t wanna jinx it.”

You and your friends wait for Tamaki to come out of his excited state, but when it’s clear that he isn’t any closer to being normal again, you turn back to the Hitachiians. 

“So. Volleyball?”

The twins nod their heads, ginger hair bobbing as they continue to give their boss a weary glance. As they walk ahead, you do too, then picture yourself playing volleyball in a suit of flimsy strings, and then pace back a few steps.

“Kyo?” But his attention had been snatched by his book once again.

“Hm?” 

“Can I borrow your shirt?”

That gave you his attention as his lashes flicked up at you from behind his book. “Why?”

“I want to play volleyball and not worry about everything falling out.” You vaguely gesture to your figure before putting a teasingly contemplative finger to your chin. “Although, I’m sure the guests would love that.”

Kyoya’s inquisitive look flattened, and he held that deadstare as he shucked off his Hawaiian shirt, perching it off of his finger tip as he lifted it towards you from his beach chair. You fought yourself not to ogle at his toned chest, but your eyes still slipped in a few glances. 

As you pulled the short-sleeved cotton fabric around your shoulders, you sighed a little bit as his expensive cologne surrounded you, and you felt a little more protected as you buttoned it up. 

“You want to come with us?” You ask, slipping another button through its notch. “You could keep score.”

His gaze hadn’t left you, calmly taking in the image of you in his clothes. “Not really, but thank you.”

“Oh, come on. We both know how much you like numbers.”

A raven eyebrow quirked up, as well as the corner of his mouth. “Are you calling me a nerd?”

You smiled, deceivingly innocent. “Of course. What else would you be?”

“I believe the applicable phrase here is ‘it takes one to know one’.”

“Ah, so you admit it.” Walking around and bending over his shoulder, you look at his budgeting for the next round of inventory shipments. Tracing your finger over the left side, you simply flip the page, receiving a scoff from the director. “See? You love numbers so much, this book is full of them.”

In the close proximity, you could feel the wisp of his half-assed sigh passing through his lips as you kept flipping back pages. “Obviously this book is full of numbers, it’s my budgeting journal. It’s called math, if you need to look it up later.” Light sarcasm, the kind you loved, seeped into his voice.

Laughing, you mock amazement. “Woah, hold on, math? Let me see.” With a quicker pull than he could’ve been ready for, you yank the book out of his lap, running to the front of his chair and hold it upside down, still flipping through it.

“I can’t read this.”

“I don’t think anyone could read it like that.” Kyoya said, a closed lip smile in full light on his pale face. “Now give it back.”

“Oh wow, do these spirals mean something?” You gasp exaggeratingly, pointing to one of the doodles Kyoya made in the margins of the page. “And this smiley face is one of majestic art.” Flipping the journal around, you flashed him the drawing you made the one late night that he still didn’t erase. 

“(Y/n).” Was that a chuckle in his tone? It was deep, and slight, but it still rang in your chest. “Give it back.” Upturning his palm, he waited. 

But he didn’t get it. 

Instead, you quickly wandered off, turning the book upright this time to trace the little circles and connecting doodles in the margins as you followed the twins' footsteps. “Come on! You can use it to keep score.”

Kyoya was frozen for a second, his outstretched hand basking in the sun as he watched you leave, waited for you to turn back, and then accepted that he would have to follow you if he ever wanted his most prized possession back in his grasp. 

Sighing, he fixed the glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose as he rose out his seat, his newly bare chest and back feeling the warmth of the sun when he stepped out from under the umbrella.

Slipping a hand into his swim trunk pocket, he followed you in the sand, watching how his shirt rippled in the seabreeze on your body. 

His smile cemented onto his face when he decided that he liked it on you.

“Dive, (Y/n)! Dive!”

One of your guests shouted from the borders of the court as a ball volleyed into the air, arcing over the net, and was set to go long and to the side, farther out of reach than either you or your teammate were prepared for. 

And while it was nice for the boy to say something, he didn’t need to. You were already in motion. 

Sand crushed and whipped under your heels as you propelled yourself forward. Running in sand was hard, and you felt the burn in your quads as you rushed forward, your breath coming to you in quick pants. 

Since Mori was tall, you both had agreed that he should be in the front, to block any spikes or short balls that the twins decided to throw your way. That left you in the back, passing over serves or any balls that Hikaru accidentally put too much power into. 

Which was most of the time. 

This one had gone off the rails. The passes before this had been crooked and unplanned, the two identical boys just working to get it over the net at that point without dropping the ball. So when Hikaru finally hit a good set, Kaoru spiked it, victory shining in his pointy grin before he realized he basically hit it out of bounds. 

Which would’ve been fine, if Mori hadn’t tried to hit it back. 

You knew your fate was sealed when the stoic type’s fingertips gave the volleyball the barest of touches, sending it askew and off to the edge of the court. 

Legs pulsing, knees bending, you leaped off of the uneven beach, fingers weaving together as you clasped your hands too tightly in front of you. Your shoulders whined as your muscles stretched, but you ignored the discomfort. Clenching your teeth, you put your hand under the meteor made of leather and rubber as it’s shadow began to be casted onto the dusty floor below. Arms burning, you made a move, forcefully smacking it back towards the net.

A cheer burst through the crowd as your side banged into the hard ground below. Your breath was squished out of your lungs, but you ignored it. Helplessly flopping onto your back, you turn your head to follow the ball and see the twins scrambling, surprised that you had made it over.

They fumbled again, but this time the ball flopped just out of Karou’s reach, sealing your win. 

Exhaustion coursed through you, but you still opted to pump your limp arms in victory, a breathless smile coming to your face as the small audience that gathered shouted their congratulations. 

Mori came into your view, his handsome face blocking out the sun.

“You okay?”

You nodded with a smile.

“Do you need help getting up?”

Another nod. And maybe a grunt. 

Strong hand against strong hand, Mori pulled you onto your feet. Studying your frame a little and finding no real injuries, he put his long arm around your neck, patting you on the shoulder with a small grin. 

“Good game.”

Taking a deep breath in, your oxygen finally came back to you. “Ha…good game.” 

Mori smiled at you and shot you a thumbs up, then left to gloat to the twins, who were kicking sand and comforting each other. The Brotherly Love package was in full force, and the twin’s own fans awed and cooed at their performance. 

You rolled your eyes as a voice swept over the crowd. 

“Match point for Team Stoic and Sweet. And that is game, everyone.” 

You turn to see Kyoya smiling kindly at his own admirers that were mixed into the on-lookers as he made his way towards you from his perch as the score keeper. His book was tucked neatly back into his underarm, since he needed it to keep score.

“That was quite a dive.”

“Yeah…” Still trying to catch your breath, you roll your shoulders. “I guess I’m pretty great, aren’t I?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” 

“(Y/n)! That was awesome!” Haruhi came jogging towards you both, carrying a red flag in her hand. 

“You were awesome! You did a good job keeping track of what went in and out, Haru. Thanks for doing that.”

She just shrugged, a content look on her face. “It was fun, actually. I never knew volleyball could get that intense. I was pretty into it.” 

Mori met you three at the base of the net with a certain golden-eyed duo, tongue in their cheeks. 

“Good game, (Y/n).” Kaoru said, his tone showing he meant the opposite. 

“Yeah it was, wasn’t it?” You say, putting your hands on your hips through Kyoya’s shirt. “You guys are pretty easy to beat.” 

“What did you say?” Hikaru stepped forward, a mischievous grin on his face. 

You met his step, your own smile locked in place. “I said it was pretty easy. Looks like you boys need to get in shape.”

“Hm.” Hikaru looked you up and down, nodding. “You seem confident in your athleticism. Doesn’t she seem confident Kaoru?”

A pale arm came to rest on Hikaru’s shoulder, Kaoru wearing a matching grin. “Yeah. Why don’t we put that to the test?”

Your confidence decreasing exponentially at the evil look in their eyes. “Hey, wait a minute.”

“Let’s see how fast you can run.” Kaoru builds your coffin.

“Until we catch you.” Hikaru nails it together. 

Putting your hands in front of you, you backup a little. “Come on guys, we can talk this out.”

“Nah. You got a three second head start, (Y/n).” 

“Starting….now!”

“So unfair!” You scream, but your voice grows distant as you sprint down the beach, careful to avoid the incoming waves as you laugh the whole way. The twins are giggling too, as they barely count to three before racing to catch you, and the trio of mostly stoics watches as you disappear around an edge of a large rock. 

“Was that your shirt, Kyoya-senpai?” Haruhi asks, remembering splotches of damp sand on the Hawaiian pattern. 

An exasperated sigh comes from the Ootori son. “Unfortunately.” 

“Hey Haru-chan!” The dark-haired hosts follow the high-pitched voice a little to the left of where you and the twins had run off. Honey stood closer to the ocean, waving at Haruhi with a large red bucket in his hands. If Kyoya squinted, he might be able to see a pink bunny printed on the side. “Wanna go hellfish shunting?”

Haruhi and Mori chuckle a bit before the honor student cups her hands over her mouth. “I think you’re trying to say shellfish hunting.” 

The trio begins to walk towards the boy-lolita, getting closer to the large rock. 

“But this doesn’t seem to be that kind of beach, Honey-senpai,” Haruhi continues, distractedly looking around the sand. “You’re not gonna find any shell…fish?”

Suddenly, Honey steps aside to reveal large piles of all types of shellfish stuffed into pink, bunny-themed beach buckets. Haruhi’s brown eyes go wide with amazement as she whips her head around, only to find that the three of them have stepped into, what Tamaki might call, a crustacean station. 

“What the hell? No way!”

“Ow! What the hell?” An exclamation is heard from behind the rock, followed by two more.

“Where the hell did this truck come from?”

“Who are these guys?”

“Hm.” On the other side of the rock, Mori and Kyoya move to investigate the source of the noises. 

As they peek around the base of the large obstruction, they see a large 18-wheeler, one that Tamaki’s driver might yell at to drive faster on the highway. Many costumed soldiers stood on each side of the giant, garage-door-like opening at the back of this truck, creating an assembly line for transporting a multitude of shell-fish and other, surely invasive, shelled creatures. 

They also saw you and Kaoru gingerly pulling a crab from the end of Hikaru’s finger. 

Kyoya made a knowledgeable hum, whipping out his book as he recognized the situation. “Mori-senpai,” He said to his friend, “my family’s private police force has stopped by. They wanted to make it up to Honey-Senpai for attacking him at the water park. So they brought shellfish.”

“Amazing!” Honey cheers again, practically swimming in his treasure. “Look how many we got.”

Kyoya could see that Haruhi was practically drooling when she nodded her head. “We’re gonna have some fancy side dishes tonight.”

“Well, they are certainly enjoying themselves.” You shrug as you and the twins rejoin the group. “And they forgot about the other person they tried to flush down a wave pool, but whatever. I guess all's right with the world.”

“What makes you think we forgot about you?” Kyoya asks, casually recording the attendance of his guards. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Nothing. I was just asking a question.”

It took you a moment, but your hands came up to cover your mouth a little as your eyes gleamed. “Oh my god, did you get me something? A present?”

“Yeah, Kyoya-senpai. You get her a gift for all her troubles?” Snickered the twins. 

Ignoring the ginger pains in his side, he fixed his glasses. “I can’t confirm or deny anything. I wouldn’t want to ruin any potential surprises.” 

“Oh my god, you totally did!”

Rolling his eyes, the megane flipped to a new page, hiding his smirk. 

“Hey, Senpai!” 

Haruhi’s call brings all of your attention to her, as she perched herself on the side of the rock and started waving. “Dinner is gonna be awesome, it’s a major haul!”

In the distance, many guests look over to see the root of the commotion, but a tuft of blonde rises quickly. Too quickly. 

“It’s a major haul!”

Tamaki is halfway across the beach at this point, practically reaching Mach 7 as he bolts down the sand. His legs looked like those cartoon animations, where the character runs so fast, his bottom half is just a blurry wheel. 

“It’s a major haul!” Her excitement for dinner punctuates Tamaki’s arrival, as he stops abruptly at her side. She smiles at him, gesturing to the shellfish around her, and he gives her a thumbs up, a puppy-dog look in his eye. 

“Dinner’s gonna be awesome! It’s a real treat!” And, even as her best friends, no one can remember when you saw her this excited. It brings a smile to everyone’s faces. 

But when the natural-type wanders off with Honey to collect more shellfish, you all watch as Tamaki deflates, catching his breath as he meets your group. Pushing past some girls who had followed the sound of Haruhi’s call, he smiled at the honor student.

“Oh, I’m just so proud. Look at my little girl!” You don’t know if it was the running or if his fountain of emotion was overflowing, but it left him breathless. 

“Alright, alright, have some water, Boss.” Kaoru says, handing Tamaki a bottle. 

The blonde begins to drink it before a crab catches his violet eye as it struggles to climb a piece of the steep rocky structure. 

“Hey, Haruhi, (Y/n)!” Tamaki picks up the crab easily, to Hikaru’s jealousy, and holds it out, putting on a charming face. “Do you think this crab is…crab-tivating?”

You couldn’t help it when a chuckle burst from your lips at your best friend’s joke. Kyoya watched you laugh, and scribbled something in the corner of his page. 

Two twins appeared at his side. “You’re writing that down, huh? Who are you trying to impress?”

But he just gave them the cold shoulder, shielding the contents of his book from golden, wandering eyes. “Shut up.”

Even Haruhi giggled, too deep into her good mood to be pulled out by Tamaki’s antics. “Oh yea!”

And Tamaki practically melted before you, taking his time to capture her slight blush and what the sound of her laugh did to his heart. “You’re so cute.” 

But the lovey-dovey look was sucked out of his eyes soon after as a long, twirling centipede arose from the crab’s shell. It twisted around the crustacean, and the girls who had gathered around Tamaki jumped back, horror in their features at the bug. 

“Cen-!”

“Ti-!”

“Pede-!”

Even the strong prince’s arm trembled as he froze in place, shock and terror shaking through his body. 

But Haruhi simply blew a piece of her hair out of her face, walked up to the president of the host club, and plucked the bug off the crab, chucking it behind her. 

The bug arched over her shoulder before landing on your face with a gentle smack. You jumped a little in surprise, but your shoulders shook with a giggle as you picked it off your forehead and watched it squirm. 

“Aw, cute.” You cooed, then promptly flicked it over the rock, dusting your hands off afterward. 

“Oh, shoot. Sorry (Y/n).” Haruhi says as she turns to walk towards you, but she’s laughing with you, the glow on her face still present. 

It’s dimmed, however, by a set of twin shadows. 

“Hey, Haruhi…” Hikaru says, placing an elbow on her small shoulder. 

“(Y/n)...” Kaoru reflects Hikaru’s pose, his sharp joint digging into your collarbone. 

“Now, I know most girls aren’t exactly the bug-loving type, and I certainly didn’t think you were, but-”

“-Don’t you think you both could’ve been easier on that little guy?” They whine, and you roll your eyes. 

“Please, it’s not dead. It takes more than that to kill a bug.” 

Then more shadows join, and the four of you turn to see guests looking at the two of you with hearts in their eyes, pushing the twins off of you and surrounding you in an astonished hue. 

“Haruhi is so brave, so manly!”

“(Y/n) barely even flinched. She’s the perfect woman!” 

You both thanked them while looking at each other like what is going on?. This left a few very quizzical hosts looking at you through your groupies as if you both had grown another head. 

“Well, isn’t that just great.” Hikaru pouts, watching as the guests swarm you. 

“Yeah, those two aren’t normal.” Kaoru adds. “I thought girls were supposed to be afraid of bugs.”

Tamaki’s yellow eyebrow twitched, watching as the guests fawned over you both so easily. “I’m sure they’re afraid of something.”

That got the wheels in the twins’ heads turning. As rusty as they were in other areas, these gears were always up for the planning of a good scheme. They turned and turned until the metal scraped together and produced a spark, zipping up their brain stem to power a collective lightbulb. 

“Hey Boss, listen up!”

Tamaki barely diverts his attention to the twins, the crab still waiting patiently in his grasp. “Hm?”

“We just thought of a new game to play!” Business men in the making, the twins pose pointedly, driving their offer through with enthusiasm. “It’s called the ‘Who Can Find Out Haruhi’s and (Y/n)’s Weakness Game!’ You think you’re up to it?”

But the flamboyant man blanched, a sweat dropping on his forehead. “But…that game sounds terrible.” Finding out what made both of his girls vulnerable and scared? Or sad, or unbelievably happy, without their knowledge. He couldn’t do that to you. 

His purple eyes divert to where Kyoya, Mori, and Honey are walking closer to him, and follows that flash of sun against Kyoya’s rims. 

Plus, he thinks, I don’t think we would have to search that far for (Y/n)’s weakness.

The twins just sigh, blowing him off as they slowly begin to walk away. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Besides, they would only really share their weaknesses with someone who they were close too so…”

All of his caution is tossed aside as his immense desire to form a stronger bond with you takes over. “What are the rules?”

Hikaru and Kaoru whip their heads over their shoulders, a dangerous look in their eye. “Now that’s more like it!”

Hikaru pops up first. “The deadline is sunset tomorrow.”

“Whoever finds their weaknesses wins.” Kaoru finishes. 

“And it seems I have the perfect prize for the lucky winner.” Kyoya and the others had caught up, and with the sunlight still flashing in his lenses, the ravenet fans out four pictures in his palm.

Two of them depicted Haruhi when she was in middle school, long hair and a female uniform. The other two, unfortunately, were pictures of you.

While Haruhi’s pictures were sweet and flattering, yours were just embarrassing. One showed a time where you thought you were in a safe place to nap, drool coming out of your mouth and seeping into one of the club’s couches. But the other one was much older, where a failed ice-bucket challenge had taken place, and you stood there soaked in your middle school uniform, a brown haired boy trying to cover his laughter in the background. 

An intense look formed on the faces of the Idiot Trio, and Tamaki began to reach for them, causing Kyoya to move them around the prince so he couldn’t grab them. 

“We wanna play too!” Honey declares, a look that said he was just happy to be included. 

“I guess that means we are all competing.” Kyoya states, lifting the pictures to the far right, trying to shake his best friend who was grumbling about where he was able to get those never-before-seen pictures of Haruhi.

“Hey, wait a minute, where did you get those pictures, Kyo-chan?”

“Yeah, where’d you get them, Kyo-chan?” 

Along with the excitement for the game, Kyoya had been too immersed in his pride of finding the perfect use for these pictures to notice that you had separated from the crowd. Once again, he wasn’t fast enough as you plucked the photos out of his hand and looked through them, grimacing at the ones that defiled you. 

The hosts turn, looking like boys who just got caught with their hands in the cookie jar, as you rifle through all four of them before looking up at them quizzically.

“What’s, uh…what’s goin on here?”

“Nothing!” Tamaki and the twins say immediately, but Honey bounds up to you happily.

“We’re gonna play a game, (N/n)-chan, we’re gonna find out you’re weakness! And Haru-chan’s!”

“Honey-senpai!” The Idiot Trio whines.

You give him a confused look before looking at the rest of your friends. “My weakness? Like, what I’m scared of?” Scoffing, you shake your head. “That’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” Kaoru huffs.

“Yeah, it’s fun.” Hikaru counters. 

Shrugging, you pull out the picture of the failed ice-bucket challenge, examining it a little closer. “Not when you already know what I’m scared of.”

There’s a small silence, and you look away from the photo to see them blinking up at you owlishly. 

“We do?” Tamaki asks, his head tipping to the side. 

But Kyoya flipped through a couple pages in his book and wanted to slap himself in the face. “Oh, that’s right.” A few flashbacks came to the forefront of the hosts' minds.

~

You and the supernatural didn’t mix very well. You weren’t weak, obviously, and would fight anything head on. But when there was a ghost that you couldn’t punch, that’s where you ran into a problem.

~

“What’s up with her?” The honor student asks, directing her question to the club director while still keeping an eye on you. As you pass Shiro, you give him a wide girth, your posture slouching slightly.

An amused chuckle resounds through Kyoya. “(Y/n) is scared of children.”

~

A long, drawn out “Oh, yeah” exhales from the hosts as the dots connect, and the twins get a bored look on their face. 

Hikaru and Kaoru begin to list them. “Sooo…ghosts?” 

You nod. “Scary.”

“And children?”

“Gross.” You say shivering, save for a certain boy who had grown on you.

“Right, right.” Tamaki sighs. ‘Anything else we should know about?”

You shoot an eyebrow up. “You mean you don’t know the other one?”

This gains their attention. Kyoya continues to flip through his book to see if he wrote down anything else, but he comes up empty. “There are more?”

At this, you smile, a small chuckle bubbling over your tongue. “Of course there are more. I’m not made of steel, you know. I’m scared of all kinds of shit.”

“What is it?” Mori says, his arms folded across his chest.

“I don’t know if I want to tell you..” A coy smirk perches onto your features. “I guess I'll get to play after all.”

~ Let the Games Begin!~

A singular voice echoed off dark walls. 

“This is the place…it’s the most haunted spot in all of Okinawa. The locals don’t even come out here.”

Taking a stuttering breath, the humid air of a cave rushes through your lungs. You hold it there for a second, scared to make the barest of noises in case it might disturb something. Or someone. 

Another voice, similar, bounces off the rocks of the cave as they take you and the crowd they’ve brought further and further into the horror. “They say that the only time you can even find this cave is at low tide. Evidently, many people have died here from drowning, and their souls still linger. Taking revenge on anyone who dares to come inside!”

That causes a sharper stab in your side as you fear peaks. You jump as Kaoru raises his voice in the darkness, and you try to squint, but from the back of the crowd you realize that you can’t see them anymore. 

“Alright, I can do this…I can do this.” Your nerves are skedaddling, fluttering in your stomach and sternum as you swallow, wincing when an unexpected drop of moisture plummets from a stalactite and onto your shoulder. 

“It’s okay, (Y/n). Look over there.” Haruhi, somehow unfazed next to you, points to where the light from the beach reached the depths of this dark cave, reflecting in the condensation and creating a small little rainbow. 

She smiles at you then, and you feel your nerves firm up a bit. “See? How can things be scary when there’s a nice rainbow, right there?”

The pounding from your heartbeat slows a little before Hikaru shouts from the front. “Look! A ghost!”

Whipping your head around, Haruhi becomes exasperated knowing all hope is lost when you feast your eyes on a shadowy figure, moving erratically in the shadows. 

“Nope! Fuck, no!” Turning on your heel and driving it into the rocks below you, you are about to sprint to the entrance when a tall, toned torso blocks your path. 

“I would watch your language, (Y/n). We are around guests.” Kyoya stands calmly in front of you as he gestures to Hikaru and Kaoru’s guests, an amused smile on his face. 

“Kyoya, we have to get out of here. That thing is going to possess us, and then what?!” You whine, a hand crazily motioning to the gloom you had witnessed. 

Gray eyes scan behind you, then meet yours, that smile growing. “What ‘thing’?”

Screwing your eyebrows, you turn spin to find the nightmare gone. “Oh shit, where did it go?”

“Language, again.” Kyoya’s tired, but entertained voice comes to rest beside you as he falls into step with you and Haruhi, and you feel a hand on the small of your back. “Come now, (Y/n), surely you can’t be afraid of what isn’t there?”

You scowl at him, rolling your eyes before becoming attentive to the cave around you. “Don’t patronize me. I know what I saw.” But the weight his hand provided was nice, it pulled you back to earth. 

But then you jumped out of your bones when literal bones grasped your shoulder, cold and clackity as it touched the fabric of Kyoya’s shirt. 

“Ah!” Going into a complete fight or flight mode, your elbow ran back, jamming into whatever had decided to take your soul at that moment in time.

“Oof, ah…” The figure’s wind got knocked out as it bent over, and you reeled to see Hikaru, clutching his stomach and bending over, two fake skeleton hands in his grasp. “I…probably should’ve seen that coming.”

Haruhi stood there, brushing off where Hiakru had placed the hand on her shoulder, and looked confused. “What’s going on? Are you guys trying to freak me out?”

Pushing past his guests, Kaoru emerges with a puppet with the same silhouette as the ghost you had seen in the darkness. An angry tick appeared on your forehead. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Kaoru whines. “I thought everyone was afraid of ghosts. (Y/n) definitely is.”

“I swear to god, when I get my hands on you…” You mumble, and try to walk towards the twin before Kyoya holds you back by the collar of his shirt. 

“This stuff doesn’t really freak me out.” Haruhi says, wrapping the cloth the puppet-ghost-demon thing was dressed in around her finger. “I’ve never seen a real one, so why would I be scared of it?”

You slouch, dragging your feet as your lead out of the cave. “If only it were that easy.” 

~ Paranormal Fear Strategy Failed ~

“Haru-chan! Would you come over here? (Y/n), you too!” 

The shirt now unbuttoned, it blew in the breeze of the sea as you and Haruhi got up from your sunbathing to meet Honey-senpai’s request. Walking past the deep, vast water of the ocean next to you lights your nerves again, but you keep a calming distance. 

Rounding the corner of the large rock where the boy-lolita had found the shellfish, you see him standing and waving at the base of the large 18-wheeler that had carried the crustaceans.

“What’s up, Honey?” You say, shielding your eyes as the rest of the hosts join you. 

Haruhi gasps, not having processed that a giant truck was parked on the sand until now. “Are you sure it’s okay to drive a truck like this on sand?”

“It’s A-OK!” The martial arts expert says, beaming. “Just get up here!”

After some struggling – neither of you being the most athletic type – both honor students now stand a little away from the edge of the truck, more confused than you were on the beach floor. 

Your voice fills the space. “Honey, why did you want us to-”

But he interrupts you with a thumbs up in the air. “We’re ready when you are, private police people! Please,” his blonde hair flops as he bows, “lower the door.”

A hearty Yes Sir! rings through the sunlight as brown eyes meet yours. Haruhi looks at you in confusion, and when you start to shrug, you're shrouded in darkness again, the door of the truck falling shut with a heavy slam. 

“Oh, mhm.” Nodding, you look around the small, dark space. “I see what he’s doing.” 

“What who is doing?” Instinctively, Haruhi’s voice falls to a whisper in the quiet trunk. 

Before you can reply, a cry resonates against the steel walls, and you feel around helplessly for a boy, his shoulders shaking. 

“Wahh! It’s dark and scary in here, I feel like I can’t breathe!”

“Honey-senpai, what’s wrong?” Haruhi’s whisper is replaced with alarm as she tries to find Honey in the darkness. 

“Somebody let me out! I can’t take it anymore!”

And with that, the door is promptly lifted, a very alert Mori holding it up. 

~ Claustrophobia Attack Strategy Failed! ~

“You haven’t gotten in the water, yet.” 

“Hm?” Your hum ended in a chuckle as you watched Mori point a very sharp thing at a very confused Haruhi. She reaches out and touches the end, testing it’s blade, then gives a deadpanned look to her Senpai. As defeated as Mori can look, you supposed, he dragged the harpoon in the ground and walked off. 

~ Fear of Sharp Objects Strategy Failed ~

Where was he going to put that?

“I haven’t seen you swim today. I thought you’d be jumping at the chance.” Kyoya says next to you, the day having stretched and flew by as the group had focused on the recent game proposal. It had quieted down a little as nothing was working against your fearless Haruhi, but they were determined to find something. 

You had been slightly forgotten, which was okay with you. 

Now you lounged deeply. Your body thanked you, seeping into the beach chair without a care in the world, Kyoya’s shirt dangling off the chair’s arm. Surprisingly, he hadn’t pestered you about getting it back, not that you were complaining. Seeing him shirtless was like seeing an eclipse across a night sky. Rare, but beautiful. 

“Yeah, not really my thing.”

“Oh really?” His voice picked up in an inquisitive manner, and you felt him rustle beside you as he got off his chair. 

Standing in front of you, Kyoya held out his hand, the sunset creating a brilliant stream of oranges and purples behind him. “Why don’t we go together, then?”

A blush that matched the pink in the sky painted onto your cheeks, as he looked very handsome at that moment, but a certain apprehension resisted his offer. 

“You want to swim? With me?”

His eyes squint slightly. “If you’d like.”

If only you could say yes. 

“But, uh, what about your glasses?” It was reaching, you both knew that. “Won’t they get wet?”

“I can take them off. You do realize they aren’t attached to me, don’t you?” Proving his point, he slid his glasses down his nose, leaning over and setting them on the small, side table that had been between you. 

Now he was shirtless, and wasn’t wearing his glasses. 

While the sharpness of the glasses complemented the angles of his face, the complete vulnerability of Kyoya’s gaze left you a little bit speechless. His sharp cheekbones and jawline softened slightly and he looked at you, so inviting and collected. Even the air around him seemed to stop whipping around, blowing a gentle wind through his raven locks. 

Your jaw muscles clenched as you swallowed. Not just from the thought of getting into the ocean, but from the sight of this man in front of you. 

Needing to look away, you darted your eyes out of his sight, pulling at your swimsuit and laughing his offer off. “You go ahead, really. I don’t really want to get my hair wet.”

“Says the woman who cannonballed into a lazy river.”

Shrugging, you grab your drink, still avoiding eye contact. “I’m full of surprises.”

But the glass doesn’t reach your lips. The tips of Kyoya’s fingers bring it down, and as he leans over you, you can’t avoid the questioning eyebrow he gives you. “Why are you avoiding the water?”

“I’m not.” Bringing the straw to your lips successfully this time, you bite it between your teeth. “I just had better things to do.”

A bored sigh blows through the Ootori son’s nostrils as his sweet, gentlemanly persona is gone, arms calmly crossing over his chest. “Don’t insult my intellect, (Y/n).”

You look at him for a moment, debating whether to keep pushing it off, but you decide against it. Expelling a breath, you set your drink down and bring your knees to your chest, shielding yourself from judgment. 

“The last thing I’m not the most keen about is the ocean.” Resting your chin on one of your kneecaps, your gaze focuses on the sea behind the club’s director. “Or really any large body of water.”

“Any particular reason?”

Another shrug waves through your shoulders as you stare out into the horizon. “Not really. Just don’t like the idea of being deprived of oxygen. Then I’d just sink, and be lost.”

Your voice had gone monotone for a minute before you exhaled, finally meeting your crush’s eyes. The naked, gray irises had turned thoughtful, intent. 

“Sorry,” You say, a small laugh offering to lighten up the mood. “Didn’t mean to be so morbid.”

“No, no.” Kyoya says, and he wears his glasses once more. “I can understand that.”

But he has no anger in his face, no judgment. Because you’ve known him for so long, getting to know the little shifts in his features, the signals between happy and frustrated had become second-nature to you. 

So, of course you saw the dimples of sincerity, of his attempt to be open to what you had to say. But did you also see a little hint of victory?

Settling back into his chair, Kyoya heaves a deep sigh, a rumble shooting through his chest before rifling through the pocket of the shirt you had stolen. 

“Well, I guess these belong to me, then.” And you were right to sense victory in his voice as the air about him turns triumphant when he pulls out two of the four photos he had presented as prizes for the ongoing competition. 

“You-!” You gasped as a boastful smirk appeared on his sharp features. Suspicion coloring your voice, it’s your turn to squint. “Did you even want to go swimming? What would you have done if I had said yes?”

A deliciously pompous shrug ripples across his torso as his smirk grows wider. “Who knows? I’m full of surprises.”

“Give me those!” Drink ignored, you reach over your chair, smiling as you move into his space to steal the pictures.

But his arms are longer as he moves the pictures out of your reach. “Absolutely not, I won these.”

“You tricked me!” Your voice strains as you stretch, your fingers wiggling out their efforts.

“I would argue that you let yourself be tricked.” Despite himself, Kyoya couldn’t help the chuckle that tumbled across his upturned lips as you put a knee onto his chair, reaching and reaching. 

You’re giggling, still trying to make yourself as long as possible. “I would argue that you’re a dick.” 

This time when he laughs, it’s much closer, his breath trickling down the nape of your neck, and you realize just how close you are. 

His arm is stretched out, the pictures well out of your grasp, while the other rests on the arm of the chair. One of your palms supports your weight on one side of his hip, while the other one is extended towards what could become some embarrassingly good black mail. Your knee perched on the edge of the chair as your other leg fell straight behind it. 

It wasn’t the most comfortable position, and now that you were thinking about it, you weren’t completely sure how you got there. But you damn well didn’t want to move. 

The goofy smile on your face softened as your torso bent over his knees, and his simper melted into something effortless. 

Your eyes followed the movement as Kyoya’s cheekbones relaxed, his dimples shallowing as you met his eyes once more. 

“You’ve been smiling more lately.” You say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Sparkling gray irises flash with questions, but who were you kidding? They were always full of questions. “Have I?”

Nodding, you tug the inside of your cheek between your teeth. “Yeah. It’s nice.”

The effort in his arms dissipates slightly, and as it sinks back onto the arm of the chair, a meaningful gleam shines in his pupils. “Maybe I have more of a reason too, lately.”

Letting your hips drop, you end up kneeling on one side of the chair while partly caging him in, getting lost in the moment. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“I couldn’t say.” His deep voice dipped and rolled as Kyoya leaned his chin up, keeping his lips a breath or two away from yours as you leaned over him, lost in the moment. 

Winds blow the two of you ever so closer, the smell of sea salt and cologne accompanying the warm feeling of sun on your skin. That feeling paired with the one in your heart when you were asking yourself if…finally…

“I still need more time. I want to tell you, I just-”

“It’s okay. I need more time too.”

…time had run out?

As your torso began to brush his, you gently held your place. If he wanted this, he would have to make it as clear as the water behind you. You couldn’t risk making him feel pressured or uncomfortable. 

Your heartbeat pitched as he still stretched forward. 

“(Y/n)! Haruhi!”

The glass that was creating the kaleidoscope of romantic, rainbowy emotions around you shattered, making you jump back as it plunged into the sand. 

Dazed, you look towards the shout, just now registering that Kyoya’s hand had found purchase on your waist before it completely disappeared. Your view is obstructed for a moment by another large boulder before the source comes into view.

The sun illuminated three feminine figures, waving atop a large cliff. You see one, taller with long, brown hair, cupping her hands over her mouth, seemingly trying to locate you. “Haruhi! (Y/n)!”

Blinking, your mind catches up with you as you realize what they are standing on. The tallest cliff on the island sits under their feet, thick and hulking as it stretches over the waters below. 

“Those girls shouldn’t be up there.” You say, your voice wavering as they step closer to the ledge. 

Turning back to the man underneath you, his usual sharpness has returned. No longer lost in the effects of the moment’s suncatcher, Kyoya nods his head before turning to you. “Go see what they need. Our guests come first.”

“Okay.” But your voice trails off while your brain overthinks everything that just happened, or what was about to happen, in what felt like hours, but really only took a few seconds. 

The lightest of touches appear on the edges of your cheekbones as your director’s knuckles graze them, a reassuring gesture. “I’ll-,” he takes a second to clear his throat. “I’ll stay here. If you’re wondering.”

You can’t bite back the smile that stretches over your deprived lips as you sit back, plucking his shirt back on as you get up. “Flustered, are we?”

Scoffing at your surely ridiculous notion, the megane rolls his eyes. “I could say the same for you.” Kyoya’s gaze drops down your figure before opening his black book, filing those treacherous pictures into the side of it, and noting down whatever thoughts are running through his mind. 

If only you could read what he was writing.

Heart skipping as you walk, you turn to make your way towards your guests, your footsteps printing themselves on the beach behind you. 

Whatever happened, or was going to happen, with your best friend left you fluttery and nervous. 

That was a close call. But it certainly felt like the right one. 

“Oh, (Y/n)! Look up here!” Another girl, around your age with bobbed blonde hair started waving more frantically as you got closer to the base of the cliff. 

“Woah, you guys are pretty high up there.” You call, shading your eyes as you look up towards them. “Be careful!”

“The breeze up here feels great!” The third student calls, their shoulder length hair stretched into a shaggy ponytail. “C’mon, (Y/n), join us!”

You were about to say no before Haruhi joined you at your side, her left hand shielding her eyes from the sun while her right carried a sand pail full of squirming shellfish. “What’s going on?”

“They want us to go up there,” you say wearily. “But I’m just trying to get them to come down.”

“It’s dangerous!” She calls out, but the girls just shake their heads and disappear from your view.

Haruhi’s mouth flattens into a thin line as she squints in the sunlight, and then sighs. “They probably can’t even hear us.” 

But your attention isn’t on them anymore. 

Silhouetted by the sun, three masculine forms stop at the bottom of the cliff, which laid a good distance from you. Your eyes narrowed as one of the figures pointed up the landmark, and they all eagerly, too eagerly, staggering their way up the path. Have they been drinking?

“If they can’t hear us, then we need to go to them. Right now.” Urgency pulses in your tone as you hastily grab Haruhi’s hand, pulling her along as you briskly walk across the sand.

“Woah, (Y/n)-”

“There are boys climbing up the cliff.”

Haruhi finds a way to keep up your pace. “Boys? Like our guests?”

Shaking your head, you keep an eye as the trio of shadows get higher and higher. “I couldn’t get a good look at them. But they were drunk, and we don’t serve alcohol to guests.”

But suddenly one comes into the light, a mess of a low bun and sharp eyes, his mouth twisting into a grueling smirk. 

Swallowing, you break out into a full on jog. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Hm.” Chiyo says, her shorty, bouncy blond hair falling over her face as she looks over the cliff again before turning towards her friends. “I think (Y/n)-Senpai and Haruhi went somewhere else. I don’t see them anywhere.”

Her best friend since middle school, Hinata, pouts, braiding her long brown hair down her back. “Awe, I was really hoping to look at the sunset with Haruhi.”

“Yeah, and (Y/n) would’ve really loved this view.” The new girl in their class, Emi, folded her arms, her layered bangs blowing in the breeze. She had been eating lunch at Chiyo and Hinata’s usual table when the duo appeared, and they’ve hit it off ever since. Especially when they all started going to the host club together after school.

Chiyo, the bright personality of the now-turned trio, smiled a comforting smile. “It’s okay! Maybe we can get the twins’ attention, or Honey-senpai’s! I’m sure they’d love to spend some time with us.”

Hinata just shrugs, her angsty aura showing through, but Emi gives her an encouraging thumbs up. “You’re right! I’ll stay here while you two head down, so that no one steals-”

“Hey! They’re chicks up there man!”

All three girls freeze. A deep voice rang through the air, but it seemed a little far away. 

“Did you guys hear that?” Emi swallows.

“I think it came from down here.” Hinata says, calculating eyes fixating on the slight slope of the cliff. 

Their breaths catch when two heads appear over the slope, revealing two men, clearly older than they were by at least a couple years. Hinata’s long legs step in front of her two friends as they appear, wincing at their appearance. 

One had his hood up, dark brown eyes raking over Hinata’s form before foggily swinging to her friends behind her. 

The other had his hair pulled back into a low bun, his red shirt swaying with his wobbly movements as he threw an empty beer can onto the rocks. 

“Oh, well aren’t we lucky..” Red shirt slowly walks up to her, his neck craning to meet her height when she steps protectively in front of her girls. “You girls want to hang out with a couple of locals?

Her face set in determination, Hinata pushes him on his shoulder, forcing him to stumble back a few inches as she gains her ground. “No thanks. Leave us alone.”

Too quickly, the man finds his footing and reaches out, pinning her outstretched wrist in his biting grip. 

His voice drives onto gravel as his lips curl. “Awe, c’mon you fighter, we just want to show you girls a good time.” His hazel eyes flick behind her as she clenched her jaw. 

Chiyo and Emi hug each other, protecting themselves from the stare of the man while losing sight of the other one. 

“This is a private beach!” Chiyo shouts after watching Hinata stand up for her for years and finally gaining some courage. “You guys are not allowed to be here!”

The color in her face drains as arms encircle her and Emi, pulling them into a muscled torso.

“Private?” The other guy’s breath reeks of beer as it blows through Chiyo’s blonde hair. “Does that mean we’re alone?”

Suddenly, the man holding Hinata hostage by her wrist shouts out in pain, his back arching as he lets her go.

Hinata’s eyes light up when she sees Haruhi standing behind him, an empty bucket pointed right at her attacker.

She was never the one to fangirl, but damn did she want too.

“Ah!” Red shirt yells, turning around to face the person who just chucked spikey and pinchy shellfish at him. “What the hell?”

“Why don’t you quit bothering them!” Haruhi yells, her voice sounding confident but her heart beating a million miles a minute. 

You and the honor student had gotten there just as the hooded boy wrapped his arms around your guests, and it left the two of you fuming. 

Coming around behind Haruhi, you lifted your chin, shouting above the loud waves of the sea below you. “Weren’t you jerks listening? You better leave them alone!”

“Haruhi, (Y/n)!” Emi draws your attention as she shouts. You were so used to her smiling at your table when you hosted her. Now, her brow was stitched in fear, making your heart swell and your anger grow. 

“You little runt!” The man with the low bun slurs, his words blurring together as he races forward, palms outstretched to restrain Haruhi. But you step in front and push your hands onto his chest, sending him backwards again.

“Don’t touch her or anyone else.” Your voice is stone cold as you straighten your back. 

“Oh, we got a brave one, huh?” And the drunkard laughs. 

Then he lunges.

Haruhi gasps as you’re pulled off your feet. The joint between your shoulder and your arm protests as Red Shirt harshly grabs your wrist and sweeps his leg under you, sending you to the floor.

“(Y/n)!” You hear Haruhi’s voice, but it’s distorted as your chin slams onto the hard ground. Your teeth crack together, and you instinctively roll yourself onto one side, wincing as you move your jaw. 

“I’m fine, I’m good.” Grunting, Haruhi runs over to you to help you up. When your vision is less tilted, you see the drunkard stalking closer to the three girls. 

“Hey! Douchebag!” Haruhi yells, pulling you up to your feet. “Leave them alone!”

“I can do what I want!” His words are connected by his drink, and he carelessly waves a dismissive hand to you.

Fuming, and apparently unable to learn a lesson, you rush towards him, grabbing the back of his collar and tugging him away from them. He lands on his backside, unable to catch his balance.“I said, don’t touch anyone!”

He sits there, shoulders heaving. There’s a moment of quiet where you think you won. Where he and his friend might finally leave you all alone.

“Aoi. Let them go.” Red Shirt says to his friend, apparently named Aoi, and the hooded guy hesitantly unwraps his arms from Chiyo and Emi. 

The two girls immediately run to Hinata, who hugs them all gratefully, and you smile as the group is reunited. 

“Girls, let’s get you out of here.” You hear Haruhi behind you as she ushers them away from the two men as they stay frozen with their heads down. 

Keeping an eye on the intruders, you see the girls run around and behind you, and listen as Haruhi sends them down the cliff, out of harm's way. 

You hear Aoi whimper pathetically as he slouches. “C’mon Ren, I wanted to hang out with some ladies, if you know what I mean.”

Red Shirt’s, or Ren’s, shoulders shake a little, a deep chuckle rolling out of him. “We will, man, we will.”

His back still facing you, he stands. His low bun coming loose with the action, Ren turns to face the two honor students over his shoulder. 

“Let’s hang out with a chick who has some bite to her.”

Both their eyes land on you as they start to walk, their uneven steps making them seem like zombies hunting their next meal. 

Heart beat pitching for the second time, you spin towards your favorite brunette. “Run, Haruhi, we gotta run!” 

Trusting you, she spins and begins hiking it down the cliff. You start to follow before the collar of Kyoya’s shirt is pulled against your throat.

“Thought I’d take a page out of your book, pretty lady.” The smell of alcohol blends in with the breeze as he breathes into your ear, holding you by the back of the collar. 

Hearing your struggle, Haruhi whips around, already halfway down the mountain to see the two boys surrounding you.

Shaking your head, your voice is harsh as you try to kick him off of you. “Go get help!”

Worry seeps into her eyes, her chest heaving as she bites her lip. Turning her head to the bottom of the cliff, then to the top where you were. You managed to kick Ren off of you, but Aoi was there. She knew she wasn’t going to be much use.

Brown eyes glistening, she exhales roughly as she sprints down the rest of the cliff, hoping that a certain host was where she had seen him last. 

Back atop the cliff that overlooks the water, you elbow Aoi in the side before grabbing Ren’s arm and twisting it behind his back. 

“You think you can just take what you want from girls? Is that it? That you can do whatever you want?” Your voice was strained, stress and emotion stretching your vocal chords to new levels. 

Flashes of a dressing room come to the forefront of your mind, a doctor’s coat wrapped around a fake doctor who slipped into your dressing room and pushed you against a wall. His hand pushed into your mouth to silence you, and you couldn’t scream, couldn’t do anything. 

With as much force as you could muster, you push Ren to the ground, tears of frustration coming to your eyes. “Women aren’t your toys, you asshole. Have some fucking respect.”

You were helpless in that dressing room. But not anymore. 

When Aoi tried to reach for you again, you kicked him in the groin and watched him double over. Before you could celebrate, Ren scrambled back to his feet on the small rocks that littered the cliff and dove towards you. He grabbed your shoulder, spun you around to face him and slapped you. Hard. 

That dizzy feeling came back, your cheek pulsing as this man yelled in your face. “Don’t talk to me like that, you bitch! Just shut up!”

Blinking, you came back to reality and jerked out of his grasp, jabbing him in the stomach before putting your head in your hands. You were okay. It was a hard hit, but you could take it. Until help came, you could take a few punches. 

Once your vision was restored, you put another step forward before Ren pulled something shiny from his shirt pocket. 

“I know somethin’ that’ll make you like me.” That terrible smile that will give you nightmares for weeks curled at his lips once more as he flashed open a small blade, turning it so that it glinted in the sunlight. 

Your heartbeat had jumped to your head, thumping in your eardrums as all of your senses zoned into the knife he held in his large grasp. 

Your throat went dry and your breaths turned shallow, the anxiety you had worked so hard to keep under control boiling to the surface. 

“W-wait, hold on, man.” You say as you back up. How could you not check if he was armed?

As if he caught the scent of your fear, the back of his throat makes a satisfied growl. “Yeah? You scared? You gonna calm down for me?”

When he begins to take a step forward, you take a step back. “Please. I have people waiting for me. Let me go, and I won’t tell anyone you’re here.”

“Bullshit.” Hazel eyes flash with anger as he takes another step towards you, and you realize throughout the entire commotion, somehow he had ended up blocking the exit to the cliff. “Like I’d believe that a girl as fiery as you would let this shit go.”

“I will! I will.” You try to take a steadying breath, but it’s shaky and broken. “I swear.”

Taking another step back, your foot drags in the dirt as you hit a hard chest and feel arms wrap around your torso. A laugh rings out behind you and you recognize the cruel chuckle of Aoi as he traps you. “Don’t move, lady, or you might not like what happens.”

Arms pinned to your side, there’s nothing you can do but watch as Ren smiles, sharp canines reflecting as the sun sets behind the horizon. 

“Please.” Your words breathless, fear and worry stealing your voice from your throat. “Just let me go.”

“Heh.” With a concerning amount of serenity, Ren brings the point of the knife to your chin. “I don’t think I will. I like my girls with a little fire.”

Your body was finally at his mercy as Aoi shifts his grip on you, now holding the sides of your arms instead of wrapping them around his waist. 

“Whose shirt is this, sweetheart, hm? A boyfriend’s?” The hand that wasn’t holding the knife felt the fabric of the Hawaiian shirt, seeing how wrongly it fit you. “It’s definitely a men’s cut, that's for sure.”

Aoi hummed behind you, cold and disquieting. “Wanna see if she has anything under it, Ren?”

Ren’s eyes seem to flash with pride as he looks at his friend. “Absolutely.”

Shaking your head, you dig your heels in the ground as you try to push and fight when Ren brings the knife to the top button of your shirt, but Aoi holds you in place. 

“Stop, stop!” Kicking your feet, you manage to make an impact with Ren’s stomach. He grunts before catching your foot in his hand. 

Anger wells up in his form as he brings the knife to your calf, slashing a shallow cut across your skin.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out, trying not to give them any satisfaction as a stinging, real pain burns through your skin. 

“Stay still, bitch, or the next one will be deeper.”

He walks into your space again, and you turn your head, a single tear rolling down your cheek as he cuts open the buttons of Kyoya’s shirt.

Your swimsuit is revealed one button after the other, and soon the entire shirt is now hanging over your shoulders, a curtain to what was beneath.

“Oh wow, we caught a rich one, didn’t we?” Ren laughs, tracing the small H on the swimsuit with the blade he just cut you with. “What is this brand, Hitachiian? This must’ve been like a million dollars.”

“Can you pay for our drinks later, rich girl? Or maybe the rest of my tuition?” Aoi teases, and you wish something could strike him down and shut him up.

“Get the shirt off her, Aoi. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

The guy behind you’s grip loosens for a split second, and you take your chance. You push him off of you and Ren’s arm shoots out, only being able to grab the fabric of your shirt as it’s pulled off of you. Stumbling, you find a little bit of your footing and run to the edge of the cliff, stopping as you look down at the crashing waves. 

“Nowhere to run, sweetheart.”

The ocean laughs at you as the water runs up the wall of the cliff, its deceptively calm waves taunting you. You wouldn’t dare.

Looking over your shoulder, Ren flips the knife in his hand. He throws Kyoya’s shirt to the wind, and you watch as it blows away, freer than you were as it succumbed to the breeze. 

Your toes curled on the edge of the rocks, the heartbeat in your ears picking up its pace. You took a few breaths in, then out. In, out, in, out. 

Just do it, (Y/n), jump!

But the endless blue swirled and swayed, hiding its secrets to anyone who dares to consider it at such a surface level. You imagined the blue on top turned darker as you’d sink down, lower and lower until there was nothing left.

Anxiety lurched in your stomach, but you took a step back.

But Ren’s hand spun you around by your sore shoulder, grabbing you by the straps of your bathing suit as he laughed.

“What? Too scared to take a dive?”

Part 2 is up! Go check it out in the masterlist! <- (click there)

[ting-tang]

I'm going to put my glasses on and continue to write. Idc if anyone reads it or can see it.

This is me "silent but deadly" my words are like daggers to the heart, slicing your jugular with sharp letters forming my words. Bleeding out the eyes from knives, from the words of my heart picking them up off the floor.tas they've bn trampled over . No one sees or hears them.

Silent but deadly, locked in my head. The screaming never ends. The demon's pouring out my soul, the words no one hears. Again and again it happens. Over and over again, words crawling up skin, screaming in my ears ricashaing around my head.

Silent but deadly, the words unheard,not seen. Written silently,with soft words, short sentences, long paragraphs. Keeping peace. No one sees or hears

Silent but deadly

[archieve-yura-blog]

❛LIPSTICK

               •| ⊱ ✿ Dentre todas as pessoas com quem Yura agora partilhava a sala, sem sombra de dúvidas era @pd-wenhao seu favorito. O almoço embalado propriamente para os dois, a canadense praticamente puxava o mais velho consigo. Não poderia deixar que o amigo ficasse sem se alimentar, tal como sabia que levaria uma bronca se ela própria não comesse alguma coisa. Não somente dele, mas de Sooyun também. Precisava dar o exemplo como segunda mais velha. ❛ ——— temos de ir logo, oppa! —— fizera um grande bico, porém logo fora transformado num largo sorriso. ❛ ——— quero que consigamos a sala de música nesse intervalo do almoço, queria te mostrar algo que venho praticando! —— de forma alguma soltou do braço do chinês, não apenas por ser skinship whore e sentir-se confortável a seu lado, mas para tentar aliviar do próprio nervosismo que aflorava cada vez com mais força em seu âmago. ❛ ——— como foi com solbi unnie essa manhã? —— questionou-lhe, curiosa, afinal, a main dancer do grupo da Red Light era sua bias há tanto tempo que a garota sequer se lembrava quando aquela admiração havia começado. ❛ ——— sooyunnie e eu tivemos haein unnie como nossa instrutora. acho que é seguro dizer... ela está pegando mais no nosso pé por sermos da red light. —— sussurrou a última parte, para que apenas o amigo fosse capaz de lhe escutar, os olhos vagando pelo local também, tendo a certeza de estarem a sós. ⊰ |• 

[pd-yura-blog]

                           •| ⊱ ✿ and there’s just so much d a r k n e s s                                       will she ever be able to recover?? ⊰ |•

[fenixjung-blog]

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ •| ⊱✿ look for the girl with the broken smile ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ and ask her if she wants to stay a while... ⊰ |• 

[oct-hanako-blog]

drink ‘till it’s better ✗ w. @oct-jongkyu 

Não era costumeiro para a garota utilizar o celular quando em festas, a menos é claro que ela estivesse perdida do grupo de amigos, algo que viera a acontecer. Hana sequer ficava surpresa, ainda mais Jongkyu, Kyung, Nico, Liang... ela poderia citar boa parte de seu ciclo social... eles nunca pareciam parar quietos, e àquela altura tinha quase certeza que Kyung devia estar com um certo alguém. E ela nem fazia ideia de como havia conseguido se perder de Haein após escupirem as abóboras juntas. Porém, agora encontrava-se perdida no salão, recostada na parede e mexendo no celular, após ter mandado algumas mensagens para os amigos. Foi quando em um dos grupos ao qual participava começaram a falar sobre Jiu, e isso alertou sua mente. Se falavam de alguém do CRUSH ela sempre buscava, independente de ser mentira ou não, afinal, posteriormente poderiam precisar fazer algum anunciamento a respeito. E Jiu era a maknae a qual ela mimava e protegia. Ao ler o artigo, os olhos da japonesa se arregalavam e ela só teve um pensamento: ❝ Jongkyu. ❞ O nome saiu sussurrado por seus lábios, e logo ela estava procurando pelo rapaz por todo lugar.

[lovetorn]

nightmare dressed like a daydream [dream]

Prince!Dream x Fem!Assassin!Reader

Summary: Y/n is an assassin, moving from kingdom to kingdom to eliminate targets. That’s until she meets Clay, the prince of Dreland, who takes a liking to her unbeknownst of her true intentions.

OR

“I don’t like her—I can’t. She’d kill me, George.”

Word Count: 10.6k (o_O)

Warnings: a lot of death & blood (murder, heart failure), weapons (knives), swearing, toxic relationship, unrequited love :(, mentions of abuse, parental issues — i think that’s all, but if you see anything, lmk!! it’s kinda cringe i use ‘clay’ so like pls ignore it sdfghjkgjh

A/N: this is the fic i’m most proud of :’). there may be a few plot holes and filler paragraphs btw lol. if you have any questions about this fic, shoot me an ask and i’ll be happy to explain, discuss etc. anything you have relating to it! yayyy! enjoy!

She isn’t meant to be here. As a matter of fact, she isn’t supposed to be alive at all. After her last job, Y/n found herself in trouble with the wrong people. She had managed to escape from the small village she was in and find new clients in lands far away—which brought her here, tonight, in the kingdom of Dreland, at a Masquerade in the King’s castle. 

She’s dressed in her best skirts and bodice, perfectly fit for the party and makes her blend in seamlessly. She doesn’t want to draw any unwanted attention considering her true intentions of being here. 

She walks along the edge of the ballroom, her skirts trailing behind her slightly, and the handle of her mask in her hand. Her movements are sharp and calculated but seem elegant to onlookers. Nobody suspects a thing. 

Soon, she’s moving into the middle of the floor and being surrounded by older men who extend their hands to ask for a dance. Y/n shakes her head and declines politely; she doesn’t need to cause a scene. 

There’s a stage on the other side of the room where the King and Queen sit in their grand thrones, and Y/n observes their actions, watching around them for one person in particular. She sees a young man exit the curtains with a platter. He wears an apron with a white fabric strip around his hair and holds the tray with delicacy. Y/n snarls when she realises he’s not the right one. 

She inches closer to the stage, going to adjust her mask and purposefully dropping it. She watches as the object clatters on the floor and sighs exaggeratedly, waiting for someone to assist her. As planned, a pair of shiny black shoes arrive beside her mask, and the person leans down to grasp it from the polished timber. 

“I think you dropped this, Ma’am.” 

Their eyes meet—or at least she thinks they do; the badly drawn smile on his mask is distracting and incredibly unsettling for an event such as this one. Y/n knows who he is though, even behind the mask. He is her target. 

“The Prince?” Y/n exclaimed in bewilderment. “Mr Wilbur, Sir, do you know how hard that’ll be?” 

The older man rolls his eyes before he glares into hers. “I was told you were the best in the business. Do you want the 50 gold or not?” Y/n nods. 

“Good. Now, I give you three weeks to complete this, or you get nothing but excruciating death.” 

The tall man peers down at her. His head is tilting to the side as he takes in her appearance. “Who are you?” 

Y/n was waiting for this question. She simply laughs and takes her mask from his grasp. “I was invited by a friend of mine. She seems to have disappeared since I’ve been over here, though.” 

Her disappointment of an excuse has the man nodding—he’s taken the bait. “Interesting.” 

Y/n smiles awkwardly, the atmosphere of the room shifting slightly. She hates situations like this. 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” He asks, and Y/n’s eyebrows raise. “Excuse me for my informality.” 

Y/n shakes her head, giggling lightly as she grabs his hand and drags him towards the exit. He’d usually never stray far from events such as this, but seeing a girl his age and ready for adventure changes his attitude. 

Sneaking out past the guards, who pay no mind to two people in masks at a Masquerade, the pair step into the fresh air outside.

“What’s your name?” Y/n asks, already knowing his answer. 

“Uh—Clay?” His response sounds more of a question than an answer, which makes Y/n cock her head. 

“Why do you make your reply sound like that?” 

“Sorry,” He laughs. “Most people call me Dream. I’m the Prince of Dreland.”

False realisation crosses Y/n’s face as she facepalms. “Oh my! I’m so sorry, your highness.” 

Dream shakes his head vigorously. “No! No need for formalities, truly. I’m wonderful with being normal for once.” 

He hesitates before unclasping his mask from behind his head. The ceramic object falls slightly before he catches it and then he’s looking at Y/n properly.

Dream’s hair fluffs up lightly before he runs his hand through it to tame it. Y/n holds her mask in her hand as she watches him fix his appearance. 

“Now that I’ve told you mine, what’s yours?” 

Y/n is wary of her answer. On the one hand, she could lie, and on the other, she remembers that he’ll most likely be dead soon, so she shouldn’t lie. 

“Y/n.” 

Dream smiles at her. “Pretty.” Y/n thanks him and then they stand silently next to each other, the guard near the front door inching closer. 

“Do you want to go somewhere more private to talk?” Dream asks quietly. Y/n smirks whilst nodding—she didn’t think she’d be finished the job this quickly. 

Dream throws a glance back at the guard before he leads her towards the garden. The moon makes it hard to see the path, but they get there eventually. There’s no talking as they walk, the pair far too busy taking in the beauty of the moonlit garden.

The dirt beds are filled with rose and sunflower bushes, the scent creating a solacing hug around Y/n as she goes to sit next to Dream on a bench. The cold air bites at her skin, causing goosebumps to gloss her body. 

She usually isn’t nervous about committing murder, but Dream makes her uneasy. The way that his eyes glance at her worryingly and the harsh tension in his shoulders tells Y/n that Dream’s definitely had this happen before. Y/n bites the inside of her lip; she’d have to be very cunning to gain his trust. 

The garden in itself provides her with a sense of comfort. It reminds her of her flower bed at home. 

“So, why do they call you Dream?” Y/n asks. Her attempt at trying to defuse the awkwardness works as Dream twists his lips in thought.

“Uh—well, my mother used to say I was her ‘miracle’ and then believed the word was overused and cliche, so she came up with Dream; and it stuck—clearly.” 

Y/n nods, a soft smile gracing her face as she turns to him. “Well, I think that’s lovely.”

Dream blushes, although it’s hard to see through the night. “Really?” 

“Yeah! That’s beautiful.” 

The pair sit in silence, revelling in the moonlight before Dream speaks up again. “Would you like to see the lake?” 

Y/n contemplates before she replies. “Sure.” 

She had no idea why he’s taking her there, but it’s a sign that she’s gaining his trust. 

—

“You don’t know how to skip rocks?” 

Dream shakes his head at Y/n, who sits with her jaw open. “How?” 

He then shrugs, toying with a small pebble in his palm. “Teach me?” 

Y/n nods and takes the rock from him before standing and shuffling towards the lake. She gets into position, her arm bent at an angle beside her body. 

She takes a glance back at Dream to make sure he’s watching, which he is. “All you need to do is put your arm back like this, and then sweep it forwards and let go of the rock. Make sure you do it quickly, or it won’t work.” 

Y/n exhales and throws her arm, the rock hopping along the glassy water before it plops into the depths. 

She spins around with a smile on her face. Dream squints at her; he seems to be analysing her actions. He sighs and plucks a rock from the ground, standing and walking over to Y/n. 

“Ready?” She asks. Dream nods while getting into the same stance Y/n was in only 20 seconds ago. 

He looks down at the pebble for a moment and then throws it as Y/n said. Dream watches as the rock skips across the pond, creating ripples in the smooth water. 

Dream leaps around, his eyes wide. “I did it!” 

Y/n can’t help but laugh at him, the pure joy he feels influences her too. “You did!” 

Dream sighs heavily and goes back to where they were sitting. He flips back onto the ground, avoiding the sharp rocks protruding the sparse grass. He laughs out loud again, who knew something as trivial as rock skipping could make him feel so alive. 

“You’re cute; you know that?” The sudden compliment elicits a blush and a groan from Dream as Y/n nears closer. She smiles down at him. “There must be a lot of things you haven’t tried.” 

The statement makes Dream’s heart drop. It’s true, there are many things he hasn’t done. “Yes…” 

Y/n’s heart spasms in her chest. Poor guy.

“Ok. Well, I’ll make it my mission to make sure you get them all done before your time comes.” 

Dream looks at her. There’s an adoration that swims around in them that inclines Y/n to feel uneasy again. “You mean that?” 

The girl nods whilst she goes to lay next to him. “Everybody deserves happiness before they die.” 

Dream scrunches his nose up, going to disagree before Y/n interrupts. She doesn’t know why she has the sudden urge to say such a thing, but her chest aches when she looks at him. 

“I’m going to be completely honest with you, Dream. I’ve only known you for half an hour, but I feel so uneasy around you.” 

This catches Dream by surprise. He tilts his head at Y/n, who covers her face with her hands in embarrassment. “Sorry, sorry–“

“No need to apologise, Y/n. You make me uneasy too, I guess.” 

She peers at him between her fingers and then lowers her hands. Y/n lets out a small laugh at his red cheeks and imagines a flush creeping across hers too. 

“Uneasy in what sense, may I ask?” Dream’s innocent tone makes Y/n’s ears blush. 

“In the sense that you're unpredictable, in a good way. I’m always up for an adventure.” Her description is slightly confusing, but Dream understands.

Above them, the oak trees rustle lightly in the cool breeze, and tiny waves begin to ripple onto the sand meters in front of their feet. The sound of water rushing forwards and then pulling back calms the rapid beating of their hearts. 

“I guess I could say the same for you, Y/n.” 

“Prince Clay, I have breakfast and a message for you.” 

At the sound of his assistant at his bedroom door, Dream groans from his place in his bed. “What time is it?” 

“10 am! Get up! I have a message for you if you didn't hear me the first time!” George teases, holding the paper between his fingers; he’s eager to open the letter. 

“George!” Dream calls, grabbing his pillow from beside him and shoving his face into it. 

“Clay!” 

Dream sighs loudly and throws his heavy duvets off of his body, stalking towards the door to unlock it. He swings the door open to see George with a scroll of parchment and a tray with a lid in his hands. Dream’s eyes widen at the sight of breakfast, but George shakes his head. “I have to read your message first.” 

Dream rolls his eyes and tells George to hurry up as he struggles to unravel it. 

“Ok! Calm down. Uh—it’s from someone named Y/n? Do you know—” George is rudely interrupted when Dream freezes, then smiles. “Yes!”

“Oh, well, she asks to meet you at 9 pm at the place where rocks hop—what does that mean?” George’s face scrunches up in confusion, but Dream sighs, and this time it’s in contentment and not in annoyance. 

“Perfect! Thank you, Georgie. Guess I’ll see you later.” Dream snatches the tray from his assistant with his free hand, the other grabbing the piece of paper. George goes to interject before Dream steps to the side and slams the door in his face. 

George stands in bewilderment behind the door. His heart aches slightly, and he’s not sure what from—maybe it’s the way Dream discarded him or because of the letter. But he certainly knows Dream has never mentioned anybody called Y/n before. 

Maybe they’re just friends? Perhaps they only met last night at the Masquerade?

George scolds himself for his ridiculous thoughts and spins on his heel, heading for his own room. He hesitates before he leaves, hearing Dream let out a shout of excitement. At the sound, George pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and exhales; sadly, the situation brings tears to his dark eyes. 

They’re probably just friends. 

—

Dream sits anxiously on his bed, his head in his palm as he watches the clock tick. 8:39 pm. 8:40 pm. 8:41 pm. 

His heart skips a beat as it reaches the time to leave. Dream leaps from his spot on the bed and goes towards his mirror on the other side of the room. His hands come down to straighten out his dark waistcoat before they move to his hair. He curls his lip up at the sight of his unruly locks and sighs, choosing to ruffle it up slightly rather than putting gel in it. 

Taking in his appearance, Dream nods to himself. If he goes towards the Astronomy Tower and then loops towards the lake, he’ll arrive at precisely 8:58 pm; perfect timing. 

The night is clear, and the stars look amazing from where Y/n sits on the grass next to the lake. She leans back on her elbows as she takes in the view. It’s whimsical. 

Thoughts of murder and pursuit place a dark cloud over the magical evening. Y/n bites her lip and stares at the rippling water in front of her. The lake looks ominous enough to hide a body in or cover up a vast amount of blood, and the dense foliage across the lake is enough to conceal a weapon in. However, Dream is the Prince, and there is no doubt that everybody in the kingdom would be looking high and low for him if he were to go missing. 

Y/n’s plans go down the drain. It shouldn't be this hard! Wilbur Soot trusted her to do this, and if she doesn’t go through with it, she is guaranteed death.

She groans loudly, bringing her hands up to dig the heels of her palms into her eyes. Y/n could cry at the idea of failing and being a disappointment, even to people she doesn’t even know. 

The rustling of the bushes behind her indicates Dream has arrived, but she doesn't move from her position. Instead, she chooses to gain his sympathy and find a way to manipulate him to make it easier to go through with the assassination. 

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Dream rushes towards her, dropping beside her on the grass. Y/n sniffs and shakes her head. “What happened?” 

Dream places his hand on her back, softly. The act in itself makes Y/n jump; she’s not used to physical contact. 

“Sorry.” He apologises when he sees her startled, deciding to move his hand away and place it back into his lap. 

“No, you’re fine,” Y/n lets out a teary laugh. “I—erm, I just found out that my father divorced my mother, and he took the farm and cottage away from her.” 

Her hands fall to her lap hopelessly, and Dream’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Really? I’m so sorry, Y/n.” 

The girl shakes her head. The pair sit in the dark, the moon being the only thing illuminating their faces. Y/n thinks she’s hit a dead-end until Dream sighs and continues speaking.

“I can actually relate if it makes you feel better,” This makes Y/n’s ears perk up. “My father has been going to L’Manberg on ‘business trips’, but I know why he’s really leaving.”

Gotcha.

“Clay, I can’t imagine how hard that must be for you. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t reply and reaches over to grasp Y/n’s hand. Dream wears a crestfallen expression, his eyes glassy as he looks out over the water. Y/n feels a pang in her heart at the sight of the upset man. 

“I used to think that they had a good relationship,” Dream starts. Y/n doesn’t have the will to hear his perspective on it, afraid that she’ll actually feel bad for him and lose any motivation to kill him. “Until I went for a walk one night through the halls in the castle. I heard voices in my parents’ room and wanted to say ‘goodnight’, but before I could, I heard glass smashing and terrible cries.

“I was only a child, but I knew what was happening. I didn’t want to believe it at first because why would the King and Queen do such horrible things to each other? But as I got older, I realised that they had fallen out of love and are only faking it for the kingdom.” 

“Clay—” 

“They don’t know that I know all of this; they think I’m as clueless as I was when I was nine. But I’m twenty-one now, and I know everything.” 

Y/n screws her lips up, her throat burning with emotion. Why is she feeling like this?

“I don’t know what to say.” And it’s true. Y/n remains speechless as she listens to Dream tell her about his parents. 

“Nothing. I just needed someone to know.” Dream is blunt with his words and releases Y/n’s hand. She feels awful for not being able to help him in the way he needs, but she’s not here to be his therapist—she’s here to murder him. 

“Hey, how about we lighten the mood with some rock skipping?” And that’s just enough for Dream.

—

“Where are you staying?” Dream asks. Y/n is caught off guard by the question but tells him her orchestrated answer.

“In the castle, actually.” 

Dream turns to look at her, a lopsided smile on his lips. “Really?” Y/n nods. 

In an attempt to change the subject, Y/n picks up Dream’s hand from his lap. “Enough about me. Tell me what your favourite food is.” 

Dream gives her a confused look before replying. “Vanilla cake.”

Y/n hums and fiddles with his fingers. “Interesting.” 

Dream throws his head back to gaze at the moon above them. He is comfortably content at this moment with Y/n, despite only knowing her for a day. His eyes widen before he scrabbles to stand hastily. “I gotta go! You want to walk back together?” 

“I’m going to stay here a bit longer, if that’s alright with you.” Y/n smiles at him and Dream nods. It is reaching midnight and Dream knows he’ll be in trouble for being out so late. 

After he bids goodbye to Y/n, Dream begins his journey home. He hears wolves howling from behind the walls that surround the castle and goosebumps rise on his skin. It’s expectantly silent for the time of night, the only sound being animals as they scavenge. 

Dream’s footsteps are heavy on the pathway back to the castle, and his heart rate picks up at the sound of trees rustling. With his head on a swivel, Dream spins around to face the bush. He sucks his lips between his teeth and continues, checking back every once in a while, to make sure he isn’t being followed. 

He sees the grand entrance of the castle and his feet quicken. There’s a sudden whoosh behind him and then a breeze. A twig snaps in the distance and instead of running, he slows down. Dream forces himself to calm down—he’s only scaring himself. 

“Dream~” A voice sings into the wind. The tune has Dream sprinting to the doors, his heart beating out of his chest. Surely, he didn’t hear what he thought he heard. 

The wooden doors are heavy as he pushes them open before he stumbles inside. Dream is quick to close them once more, locking them in the process. He’s safe now, right?

A sliver of white ripped fabric floats in the wind on a spike outside of his window. Dream eyes it suspiciously, that wasn’t there last night. 

He stretches his arms out, his joints cracking as his stare remains trained on the material. An uneasy feeling rises in his chest before his bedroom door opens suddenly. 

“Clay~” His assistant, George, sings. He holds a tray in his hands and a beaming smile on his face. “Breakfast!” 

“Hi.” At Dream’s wavering voice, George places the tray on the table and stalks over to the Prince.

“What’s wrong?” He sits on Dream’s bed and tries to meet his gaze. 

“Somebody’s after me, George,” Dream whispers, his fearful eyes are staring into George’s.

“How do you know?” 

“I just know.”

“Well, we have to inform the King and Queen at once, Clay!” 

Dream shakes his head. “I’m sure I’ll be fine; besides, I’m inside the castle for most of the day anyways. There’s no way anybody like that could get in.” 

George goes to interject but knows better than to do so. He trusts Dream, more than anyone else; if he says he’s fine, then he’s fine. Right?

“Ok… but if anything happens, you tell me. Got it?” George says his voice stern. Dream hasn’t heard this tone since he attempted to run from the castle last year after an argument with his parents. George had been scared out of mind when his best friend—the prince—was reported missing. 

“Has this got anything to do with Y/n, perhaps?” Dream is bewildered that George would say such a thing. “No! I trust Y/n. She could never do such a thing.” 

George nods timidly and apologises before he stands. “Breakfast is on your desk. I’ll be back later to collect the plates.” 

Dream furrows his eyebrows as he watches George sulk. Why does Y/n worry him so much? 

—

Dream walks in the moonlight along the high walls that surround the castle. If anybody knew he was out at this hour, he’d be in so much trouble. It wasn’t that his parents didn’t trust him; it was everybody else.

When he was younger, a groundskeeper had led him outside the gates with the intent to sell him off. The experience had left Dream untrusting to many, and although he was much older now, much more robust, he had a hard time getting to know people. 

An owl hoots from the tree above him and the moon hangs behind its body, casting a shadow onto the dirt beneath. The silhouette is ghostly, and the sight makes the creature look much more sinister than it is. 

Dream stops in his place and watches as the owl hops along the thick branch, the rustling of the leaves distracting him for a moment. The bird then pauses and turns to look at him. Dream smiles softly and whispers, “Hi, little owl.” 

Much to his surprise, the owl actually hoots back. The sound makes Dream’s eyes widen as he continues to speak quietly to the bird.

A twig snapping behind him causes the owl to flap its wings and shoot off into the night, making Dream frown. He sighs before turning around with the intent of going back to the castle. He’s been out for long enough anyway. 

His mind drifts to Y/n. He wonders where she is, his heart skipping a beat at the mere thought of her. It is ridiculous really, how quickly he’s fallen for a girl he only met a few weeks ago. But he knows she’s different from the princesses his family has tried to set him up with. Y/n is different in the sense that she actually makes him nervous—lovestruck, even. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat catches Dream’s attention, and then he turns to his right to face the noise. 

“Dream.” A voice says. 

Dream freezes. His heart picks up speed as he’s met with a person, a mask covering their face. His hands begin to shake as the person draws closer.

As they approach him, Dream can tell it’s a woman. As sexist as it is, he knows he could take her if they were to engage in a fight. Dream scolds himself at the thought, and his frightened expression goes slack.

“Who are you?” He exclaims, pushing his hair from his eyes to get a better look.

“I’m here on orders from someone to kill you.” 

Dream’s heart skips a beat. He knew it. 

“I know.” 

The girl stops in her place. “How?”

“I could feel it,” Dream gulps. “It’s happened before.” 

The girl nods and lifts her arm. Dream squints into the darkness to see what she is doing before he’s being pushed backwards. He stumbles slightly before he regains balance and begins running. 

“Dream~” The girl sings, her voice slightly distorted. Dream hears her loud and clear as he leaps over tree roots and dirt mounds. 

“Leave me alone!” 

She laughs and picks up speed behind him. Dream is shocked by how quickly she’s gaining on him, but he persists, nonetheless. A crooked smirk spreads across his cheeks as he looks back at her. 

“I can’t do that.”

Dream’s lungs and throat burn as he draws in breaths. Adrenaline rushes through his veins, and his knees begin to buckle as he prepares his arms to catch him when he falls. He doesn’t run much. But despite the pain, a sly grin continues to play on his lips.

Dream’s feet give way below him, and then he’s tumbling onto the freshly mown grass. He’s run a long way, now lying in the garden rather than being in the forest. The moon sits high in the sky and shines down on him intensely. 

And although he’s scared for his life, Dream can’t help but feel a little relieved. He moves to sit back on his heels as the girl comes up in front of him, a dagger drawn in her hand. It’s like a game to both of them. 

“I’ve got you now, Dream,” 

“It seems you do.” 

The masked girl’s dagger presses firmly against his throat. The blade gleams in the moonlight, and the pressure elicits a groan from him. 

Dream smiles as a drop of blood cascades down his chest. He enjoys the feeling a little more than he should, and the glint in her eye shows him that she does too. Why are her eyes so familiar? 

“But I’ll spare you.” 

Dream’s eyebrows furrow as he watches her pull her knife away from his neck and shove it back into the slot in her boot. “Why?” 

The girl sighs, her arms relaxing by her side. “Because I—something’s telling me I should.”

She turns on her heel, looking around before she ducks into the line of trees behind them. 

Dream exhales deeply, relieved—the small cut on his throat stinging as he tilts his head up to stare at the moon. He’s vulnerable in this position; on his knees and unarmed. Who would spare the prince if they had the perfect chance to kill him? What made her change her mind? 

In his conversation with the moon, Dream thinks about the girl’s eyes and why they were so familiar to him—and why she spared him. He squints at the full moon, begging for answers, trying to remember where he’d seen such beauty. 

His dazed smile is quickly wiped from his lips, and the realisation knocks the oxygen out of his lungs, and soon he’s gasping for air and clawing his chest—it’s Y/n. 

Dream sits at the long dining table with a new plate of eggs and turkey. 

“Dreamy, darling, are you going to eat?” The Queen asks, her head lolling to the side as she talks to her son. 

Dream’s lips twitch as he shakes his head. “Not that hungry.” 

Y/n was on the verge of killing him last night. 

“Oh? Are you feeling okay?” 

Dream then nods, resting his cheek in his palm. His hair is messy, and his clothes remain skewed from sleeping. He usually didn’t present himself like this at breakfast. 

“Yes, perfectly fine. I’m sorry for not looking presentable this morning.” 

His mother sighs, her hand reaching out to grasp his free one. “That’s alright.” 

Dream gives her a tight-lipped smile and squeezes her hand. He notes that her ring finger is bare but decides against saying anything. 

“Where’s dad?” He asks instead. His mother stills, her face unreadable as she nods once.

“He had to leave this morning—business in L’Manberg.”

Dream doesn’t speak and lifts his hand, picking up his fork. The action elicits a soft smile from his mother. He stabs a slice of grilled turkey and brings it to his mouth.

—

“Clay!” 

At the sound of his name, Dream turns around. 

It’s after breakfast and Dream stands in the corner of the ballroom gazing out of the large windows that look onto the back garden. The head cook, and one of his best friends, Nick, is approaching him. “Nick?” 

His friend laughs, untying his apron from behind his back before he lays it over the end of one of the sofas. Dream steps forward to embrace Nick in a hug. “How have you been?” 

Nick contemplates his answer before he responds. “Flippin’ awesome.” Dream’s jaw goes slack at the cooking pun and chuckles. 

“Ha, ha. SO funny.” 

The pair pull away, and Dream faces the window again. The sapphire butterflies that flutter around the apple tree outside bring him a sense of comfort as Nick comes up beside him. The pair bask in warmth from the sun, the window making it much hotter than it is. 

“I’ve missed you, man. The kitchen’s been boring without you sneaking in.” Nick frowns and Dream feels his stomach drop. He takes a glance at the shorter man and sighs. 

“I’m sorry, bro. George said it’s ideal for me not to sneak around at night because—” 

Dream’s breath hitches in his throat, eliciting a cough. Nick shoots him a look. “Because of what?” 

“Erm—uh, I guess there’s somebody after me.” 

“What? Really?” 

Dream nods, wiping his nose with his fist. Nick struggles to find the words to say. “You don’t need to say anything; I don’t expect you to. I just thought I should let you know.” 

Nick exhales deeply, bringing his hand up to run his fingers through his hair. “That’s rough.” 

“Yeah,” Dream whispers. The two of them stand in silence as they watch the insects fly around in the sunlight. “Come here.” 

Then Dream’s pulling Nick into another hug. This time, their embrace means something, and Dream knows it’ll be one of the last times he sees his best friend. Be safe. I love you.

A sniffle from Nick prompts Dream to push him away at arm's length, his hands resting on his shoulders. The younger man complains about how embarrassing it is seeing him cry, but Dream shakes his head in assurance. “It’s okay—I’ll be okay.”

“I hope so; I can’t imagine this place without you.” 

Dream sits on his bed, silently. He recalls the events from last night and exhales deeply. A million questions run through his mind as he shifts positions, now choosing to lay on his back and stare at the high ceiling. His fingertips come up to brush the scabbing cut on his neck. 

Why did he somewhat enjoy the blade against his neck? Why wasn’t he scared when it pierced his skin? Would he tell George? But most of all, why was Y/n after him? He trusted her–didn’t he?

A sudden knock on his bedroom door and the quiet sweep of paper against wood brings him from his screaming mind. He sits up abruptly, spotting the piece of parchment on the timber floor. Dream glances out of the window quickly and goes to snatch it from the ground.

The crinkling of paper is loud as he rushes to open it. 

Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at noon. 

Dream’s eyebrows fly to his hairline. Y/n wants to meet with him. Would she mention what happened last night? Does she know he knows it’s her? Is she planning to kill him right now?

Another knock makes him jump. But this time, it opens. 

“Clay?” 

“George!” Dream exclaims, pulling his assistant by his sleeve into the room, the door closing behind them. 

“Uh, yes?” George is confused at Dream’s jagged movements. Dream shoves the letter into the older boy’s hands and waits for his reaction. When George doesn’t reply, Dream rolls his eyes.

“It’s from Y/n!” 

“Well, you have to go.” 

Dream is both shocked and relieved. “I have to go?”

George nods. He reads over the letter one last time before he gives it back to Dream. George squints when he notices his friend’s slightly pink cheeks.

“Why are you blushing?” 

Dream immediately coughs in an attempt to cover up his embarrassment. George keeps his eyes on him as he does so, screwing his lips up in slight irritation that somebody can make Dream flustered. 

“Oh! Do you have a crush?” George teases, although it’s more of an accusation than a joke. Dream laughs, shoving him away. George chooses to ignore the tugging at his heart when he hears the Prince giggle like that. 

“I don’t like her—I can’t. She’d kill me, George.” Dream jokes, patting his friend on the back. But is he really joking? 

“Kill you?” 

Dream laughs, spinning on his heel whilst shrugging. “Kill me.”

“Did you speak to Nick this morning?” George asks, his fake smile flipping into a frown. The mood drops immediately, all laughs, and carelessness forgotten. 

Dream nods. “I told him how I think somebody’s after me again. He looked pretty scared.” 

“He was worried when I told him you wanted to talk to him about it.” George tilts his head and sighs. 

“...It’s nearly noon. I better get going.” Dream deflects the topic, choosing to stand tall once more. He doesn’t want George to suspect anything’s wrong with Y/n, so he puts on a false façade, a smile stretching across his cheeks.

George doesn't say anything and tries to make his smile believable as he opens Dream’s bedroom door for him. “Have fun, I guess.”

The younger man practically skips out of the room, and when he is halfway down the hallway, he turns. “What was it that you needed, George? When you knocked before?” 

George dismisses his question. “Not important. Now, go!” 

Although, to George, it is crucial, and now he has missed his chance. 

—

Dream’s boots slap the cobblestone steps as he makes his way up the tower. He peers around the corner, wary of his movements as he goes. When he reaches the top, he cautiously tiptoes to the balcony. His hand goes to trace the scab forming on his neck and forgets it when he hears her. 

“Clay?” Her voice is soft, holding much more kindness than it did when she had a blade to his throat. “Y/n.” 

He sees her perched on a picnic mat, a basket next to her. Dream tilts his head as he watches her stand and approaches him. Her arms wrap around his neck in a hug and then he’s hugging her back. “Hi.” 

“Hey,” She laughs, pulling back slightly to admire his face. “I missed you today.” Dream gives a muffled noise of agreement into her shoulder. 

Y/n steps back and squints at his neck. “What happened?” Her fingers delicately feel the wound before Dream dodges her. 

“Nothing, nothing. What’s all this?”

She appears to overlook his shitty deflection and motions towards the place where she was sitting. “I made us a picnic.” 

The way she smiles almost makes Dream forget who she is. He forces a smile back, his heart aching at the realisation of reality. She’ll kill him soon. 

“I baked a cake for you, vanilla—you said that was your favourite, right?” Y/n’s anxious actions worry Dream as he sits down next to her. He lifts his head to look out over the land, and the view is breath-taking. 

“Woah,” He breathes. 

Y/n smiles brightly at him, glancing at the green hills and blue skies before she focuses on cutting a slice of cake. 

“You know, I never really admired this view until I met you.” Dream confesses—and it’s true. Y/n pauses, gazing at him as he turns towards her. 

“Really?”

He nods, his breath hitching in his throat at the sight of her. She truly is gorgeous. “You’re pretty.” 

Y/n’s eyes widen, and she feels her cheeks flush. “Oh, thank you, Clay. You’re pretty too.” Her hair falls in front of her face as she looks down, and Dream feels a pang in his heart. 

“Have some cake,” Y/n mumbles, handing him a napkin with the dessert placed on it. The sweet looks delectable, and Dream can’t wait to take a bite—unless… 

“You know what? I’m not that hungry, actually. But the cake looks delicious. Thank you.” Y/n furrows her eyebrows, and a look of hurt flashed across her face. “Oh.” 

She hurries to take it back from him, but he refuses to give it to her. “What are you doing?” She asks. 

Dream motions for her to cut another piece, “I’ll only eat if you do.” 

Y/n nods slowly, moving the knife to slice into the cake once more. She flips it onto another napkin and brings it towards her mouth. 

“What? You think it’s poisonous?” Y/n laughs, watching as Dream becomes flustered. “No!” 

His response is quick and cautious, but Y/n doesn’t seem to notice as she takes a bite of her piece of cake. Dream watches as she chews and swallows, earning a confused glance from her. Nothing happens. 

“Well, I didn’t drop dead. Your turn,” She laughs, hurt still evident on her features. Dream feels guilty. He holds the cake surprisingly firmly, bringing it to his lips. His heart races as he puts it between his teeth and bites down. The cake is very sweet, and it’s good. Dream catches Y/n’s eye as he eats, giving her a nod of approval. She smiles widely and visibly relaxes. 

The action calms something in Dream, too. He finishes off his cake and waits for Y/n to do the same. He sees some white frosting fall onto the bodice of her dress, the sugary mixture tumbling down onto her skirt. The girl doesn’t seem to notice as she licks the remaining icing off her fingers. 

“Uh—Y/n, you got some—uh,” Dream motions to her skirt, and watches as she sighs deeply. “Awww, I just washed these.” 

Dream stifles a giggle when Y/n scrunches her nose up and goes to wipe it off. As small as the action is, Dream’s heart skips a beat at her cute expression. He scolds himself for feeling such this way; she tried to kill you last night. 

He eyes the knife next to the basket, sweet frosting covering the blade. The growing desire to grab it and ram it right through her chest burns in his mind, but he holds back. He clenches his jaw, and for the first time, Dream is terrified of himself. 

He shakes the deranged through from his head. What was that? 

Dream watches as Y/n shoves the used napkin into the basket and lifts her eyes to meet his. He smiles softly, causing Y/n to cover her face with her hands. “Stop that.” 

“Stop what?” He laughs, reaching to poke her in the ribs. Y/n yelps quietly, jolting when he shocks her side. “Stop making me flustered. It’s hardly polite.” 

Dream stops, the tips of his ears reddening. He makes her nervous? “Oh, come on now.” 

The rasp in his voice makes Y/n freeze. She peers at him through her fingers and sees him smirking at her. She lets out a high-pitched sound and returns her hands over her eyes. As much as Dream hates to admit it, there’s a fuzzy feeling in his chest.

“Clay, I’m going to take my hands away from my eyes now, and you better not say anything suggestive.” 

Dream chuckles, extending his arms out to grasp her fingers and pull them down. She doesn’t meet his gaze as he holds her hands in her lap. Birds chirp and fly past the balcony, their singing being a perfect addition to the atmosphere the pair had created. 

They don’t say anything as they lean closer. Dream tilts his head slightly, a small smile gracing his face as he sees Y/n do the same. 

“Prince Clay, the Queen would like to see you in the castle.” 

The two of them are still at the sound of another. George stands at the top of the stairs, a scroll in his right hand. Dream rolls his eyes in annoyance, throwing Y/n an apologetic look as he releases her hands. “Thanks, George.”

“I—I’ll see you later?” Y/n whispers as she watches Dream clamber up to his full height. He nods hastily, not giving her a second look, and rushes out behind George. He feels her stare on the back of his skull but continues. 

Y/n sits in silence as the clanging of the wooden door downstairs slams against the stone walls. The chirping of the birds outside dies down, and she frowns. 

As much as she’s supposed to detest Dream, Y/n feels butterflies cluster in her stomach at the mere thought of him. The idea of killing him causes the butterflies to turn to spiders and makes Y/n feel sick. She can’t go through with this—not now, not ever. 

—

“Dre—Clay.” 

Dream freezes; his mother only uses his real name when things are serious. He nods once, prompting his mother to continue. 

“Your father has yet to return to the kingdom from his trip to L’Manberg. However, plans have changed, and it seems he’ll be there longer than expected.” The Queen’s voice is steady but has undertones of utter sadness, which Dream picks up on instantly.

“Why?” He asks. 

“He gave me a straight answer; business.” 

Dream doesn’t say nor does anything. Instead, he remains still. His lack of response earns a reaction from his mother, however. “What is it?” 

“Is it why you don’t wear your ring anymore?” Dream refuses to meet her eye, afraid he’ll upset her more than he already has with his question.

The Queen inhales sharply, glancing at her hand before she composes herself. “Yes.” 

Her voice is just above a whisper, but Dream catches it. His heart clenches, and then he finally meets her watery eyes. 

Dream’s hard exterior breaks as he wraps his arms around his mother. He uses his finger to usher the guards and assistants out of the room and then rests his hand on the back of her hair in an attempt to quiet her soft cries.

He tries his best to be strong for her, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. 

The room is far too silent for Dream’s liking, and he wishes for something to happen to break it. 

And something does. The slam of the double doors makes the pair jump, Dream spinning around to see who had interrupted. 

Y/n stands there, the same picnic basket in her hand. “I’m sorry for intruding!” 

Dream’s mother quickly wipes under her eyes and places her usual people-pleasing smile on. “What can I do for you, darling?”

Y/n walks further into the room, glancing at Dream momentarily before opening the basket in front of the Queen.

“I brought you some berries. I was speaking to Dream earlier, and he told me you loved strawberries. So, I picked some for you, myself.” Her smile is deceiving, Dream can tell, but it’s also warming, and kind and his chest aches at the sight of it. 

The Queen gasps, her hands going to take the basket from Y/n. She peers in and sees it full to the brim with the berries. “Oh my,” 

Y/n’s smile grows, her eyes meeting Dream’s. Although he knows her true intentions, he’s extremely grateful for her kindness. “Thank you, Y/n.” 

“Yes, yes, thank you!” His mother beams. She turns around and starts walking towards another door behind them. 

Once the door closes, Y/n grins at Dream, and he smiles back. His heart twists in his chest, and his eyes burn with tears. Oh, how silly I am, he thinks. 

The next time Dream sees Y/n, and she’s under the wooden bridge in the garden, her hair and undergarments drenched. The sun burns intensely down on his neck as he approaches her. 

Y/n watches the lake rush under her, the odd fish jumping out and diving back into the freezing water. It’s a harsh contrast to the weather outside, swelteringly hot and humid, but Y/n doesn’t pay any mind when she contemplates going for a swim. 

She jogs off the bridge and circles back around to shuffle down the steep, grass bank. Butterflies flutter majestically around her, enhancing the experience of being in an actual kingdom rather than a desert village—it's magical. 

Y/n’s eyes dart around before her hands tend to her back to untie her bodice. She sucks on her bottom lip, and she does so, the process takes far too long. 

Throwing the structured clothing to the grass, she then moves to her top skirt, pulling it up over her head. Her heeled boots and frilly socks are the last things to remove and then Y/n is left standing in a plain cream skirt and button-up. 

She pays no attention to her surroundings as she lifts her remaining skirt and dips her toes into the icy lake, her mouth forming an ‘o’ shape at the temperature. 

From here, Y/n can see that the middle of the lake is the deepest point; the bottom is nowhere in sight through the clear water. 

Y/n doesn’t think twice as she leaps into the middle, her entire body submerging under the surface. Her senses are shocked, and her throat closes at the sudden chill. Y/n claws at the water to reach the surface, and then she feels the sun on her cheeks. She takes a large breath and wipes her eyes. 

“Y/n?” The girl turns towards the sound of Dream’s voice. 

“Clay?” She smiles. He runs down the bank and towards the water, although he stops before he can dive in. 

“What are you doing?” He calls, tilting his head at her. “Swimming.” 

Dream rolls his eyes, “Obviously!” 

This elicits a giggle from Y/n as she swims to the edge, her clothes drenched and her heavy makeup running down her face. 

“Hi,” Y/n says as she draws closer. Dream tries fighting a smile at the sight of her in her undergarments. He feels the tips of his ears redden. “I don’t care if you see me like this, Clay.” 

He doesn’t say anything as he reaches his hands for her cheeks. He thinks she looks absolutely gorgeous. But the rising impulse to push her head under the water and never let her up is powerful. Once his fingertips brush her cheek, his breathing becomes laboured and clenches his jaw. She tried to kill you. 

Y/n notices him vacantly staring at her and waves her hand in front of his eyes. “Clay?” 

Dream’s blank expression doesn’t waver. Instead, Y/n swears, she sees his green eyes darken. His hands move from her cheeks to her shoulders, and his grip tightens. Y/n’s face scrunches in uncertainty, and she tries to shift from under his secure hold. Dream’s glare turns wicked as she continues to withdraw. “Clay? Stop, you’re scaring me.” 

His head cocks to the side mockingly, his arms going to push her shoulders down. Y/n losing footing on the rocks under her feet and her neck reaches the water. She claws hastily at his hands, and soon she’s gulping mouthfuls of the icy water. Dream shows no signs of stopping until the sound of her screams brings him from his empty glare. “S-Stop it-t!” 

“Y/n?” 

Dream blinks, and his face softens. He furrows his eyebrows when he sees Y/n struggling to keep her head above the water and grips under her armpits to pull her to stand again. Dream becomes increasingly worried as he sees tears running down her cheeks instead of lake water and makeup, opening his mouth to pour out apologies. 

Y/n stays silent, her eyes shooting from his gaze to the water. She is confused and scared. Questions run through her mind at a million miles per second. Why? Why, why, why? Does he know why she is actually here? Does he know her true intentions? Did he just try and drown her?

“What’s your problem?” Y/n yells, scrambling up the edge of the lake and towards her dry clothes. Dream says nothing. Why did he do that?

“I—I’m so sorry, Y/n.” Maybe it wasn’t her who had a dagger to his throat all that time ago. Perhaps she’s just a normal girl. 

Y/n snarls at him, her top lip curled up in disgust. “I don’t want to see you anymore.” 

The words shock Dream back into reality. “No! No, no.” 

“Yes. Now, leave me alone, Clay.” Y/n spits as she gathers her clothes and stomps back towards the castle. 

Dream stays crouching next to the lake. He stares at his reflection in the water. It twists and turns into a horrible creature baring sharp teeth and dark, dark eyes. He shakes his head instantly; the reflection swirling back into himself. 

What is going on?

— 

The fire almost burns Y/n’s icy hands as she inches closer to the flame. With her dry clothes on, her hair is still wet, and it drips down the back of her bodice and skirts, making her even colder; Y/n regrets not drying her hair before she got dressed. 

As she stares into the fire, Dream’s void expression and evil eyes eat away at her conscience, making her squeeze her eyes shut at the thought. 

“You,” 

The sound of a singular word makes Y/n turn around. George, Dream’s assistant, stands in front of her. His hard eyes are glaring at her as she cocks her head. “George?” 

“You’re here to kill him, aren’t you?” He spits, backing away slowly. Y/n's face shifts to one of shock, her hands shaking in at her sides. 

“Kill him? I would never do such a thing! If anything, he tried to kill me half an hour ago! At the bridge!” 

George scoffs, inching his hand towards the fire poker that leans against the brick fireplace next to him. “You know, you really need to work on your coyness, Y/n.”

She rolls her eyes at him, her teeth chattering as she does so. “You’re ridiculous, George. I love him despite his mistakes.” 

The man lets out a grunt. “You don’t!” 

Y/n steps back at his sudden aggressiveness. She sees the fire poker in his whitening knuckles and then stares at him in bewilderment. “Stop it! You’re going to hurt yourself or me.” 

A sinister laugh escapes George’s throat as he brings the sharp object up to her face, “Oh, I’m definitely going to hurt you. You’re not going anywhere near Clay, again.” 

At his sentence, Y/n stills, and her concerned expression falls slack. She’s done this more times than she can count. Her cold hands intertwine in front of her stomach as a look of confusion crosses George’s face. 

“Listen, I came here to do one thing, and whether or not that plan has changed is none of your business,” Y/n says her stare never wavering. 

She hates to make it so vague, but she knows if he told him the truth, she’d be dead either way—whether that be by George and his fire poker, or by Wilbur Soot and his many friends that could have her head on a pitchfork at any given moment. 

George narrows his eyes at her. “You’re lying.” 

She shrugs; Y/n knows not to show fear; it would only motivate him more. 

The end of the poker is dangerously close to her face, and George sighs before he lowers it. “You love him?” 

Y/n’s eyes soften, and she recoils slightly. She blinks slowly, her eyes coming to rest on her feet. Y/n hates showing emotion, choosing to spill everything in isolation rather than unveiling her vulnerability to potential threats. 

George only nods and retreats, placing the poker back next to the fireplace. He hesitates before he speaks, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. George drops his head and sighs, his heart shattering at the mere thought of Dream, returning her feelings.

“I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but I know one thing; I’ve never seen Clay like this before, so please don’t hurt him. I can tell he cares about you, dearly.” He refuses to meet Y/n’s eye as he turns to exit. 

She becomes wary of his sudden change in mood but decides against asking him any questions as she sees the tail of his dress coat float around the corner of the doorframe. 

George almost couldn’t believe his eyes when he walked into Dream’s bedroom the next morning. The sunlight had only just begun to flood the kingdom, the clock on the wall showing 6:18 am. 

“Why are you already up? Who are you?” George jokes approaching his best friend. Dream sits hunched over his desk, his quill hurrying over a piece of parchment. George furrows his brows at the strange behaviour but chooses to ignore it as he pulls a chair beside Dream. 

The younger man stops his actions and glances at his assistant. “What are you doing?”

George pales. “I—uh, just wanted to see what you are doing.” Dream throws him a dirty look before he angles his body away. 

George bites the inside of his cheek, his body filling with rage at Dream’s attitude. “What’s your deal?” 

Dream stills; George has never spoken to him like that before. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me, Clay! Why are you so secretive all of a sudden? You always tell me what’s going on.” 

The Prince doesn’t seem to notice the absolute heartbreak and sadness in his assistant’s voice and clenches his fists. “Just fuck off, George! You’re my assistant, not my friend. I only call you when I need you. Got it?”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows. George feels his entire body tingle as it falls numb, his stomach turning sickly. He watches as Dream huffs and turns back to his piece of paper, like a child; his arm covering the page and his other scribbling down words or exactly that—scribbles. 

It takes everything in George to stand up and leave. His legs are jelly as he wobbles out; his tears finally spilling down his cheeks. He shuts Dream’s bedroom door quietly, not anger him further, and runs down the hall towards his own room. 

The halls are silent, not a soul in sight but the broken one that floats behind George while he tries to swallow choked sobs. 

He hops down a few stairs, and then he’s pushing his door open, slamming it behind him in total defeat. He slides down the back of it, his hands coming to cover his flushed face. George scratches at his chest as he struggles to quieten the sound of his laboured breathing and hiccups. His heartbeat stutters within his ribcage—but that’s the least of his worries. 

This is the suffering of complete and utter heartbreak, and now George knows how it feels after three years of dreading it. He screws his eyes shut, in hopes of stopping the tears and forces himself to calm down. 

He loves Clay as more than a friend—this he knows is true. But, George scolds himself for being so foolish for thinking the Prince would reciprocate his one-sided love. 

And as the air fills his lungs, George stops. He holds his breath for as long as he can—the burning of his body screaming for him to breathe is the only thing he feels. He’s lightheaded as he gazes out of the window opposite him. The oak trees rustle in the dawn breeze, and it's tranquil. He feels his heart clench in his chest and then an unbearable searing pain that he can only compare to tossing your body into a fire and feeling it melt your skin.

The world is peaceful as he continues to let his body ignite and soon dwindle into nothing. 

And as the sun rises higher, his body slumps lower onto the ground, his eyes glassy and still staring out at the garden. 

—

Meet me in the garden at dusk. 

Her fingers trace the outline of the scraggly letters. Dream’s letter is vague, with no real meaning and nothing to indicate why he wants to meet. Usually, George delivered Dream’s letters to Y/n, but today it was rushed to her by another servant from the castle. Weird. 

Y/n squints closer at the letter; she can see how hard Dream drove the quill into the paper by the letters’ slightly ripped edges. Leaning closer, the smell of lavender seeps through the parchment. There are no lavender plants in the garden. 

Instead of going unprepared, Y/n reaches into the desk drawer and retrieves her dagger. She brings it towards her face and tilts it in the light, the metal reflecting into her eyes. Lifting her skirts on one side, Y/n shoves the knife into the case clasped around her thigh. It's subtle and easy to get to if needed. 

Y/n sighs, reading over the letter one last time before she walks towards the fire in the corner. She tosses it into the flames, watching as reds and oranges engulf the paper. 

She knows what comes next. If Dream wants her to meet him, then she’ll do it, but she also has to go through with her duties whether she likes it or not. 

Y/n draws nearer to the garden, her eyes darting around the trees in hopes—or in fear—of seeing Dream. The sun burns in the distance, begging to say goodbye for the day as it watches the girl tiptoe over tree roots. 

Once she enters the area enclosed by stone walls and arches, tears gather in Y/n’s eyes when she sees him, her heartstrings pulling violently in her chest. Dream stands on the other side of the garden, the thorns from the rose bush piercing his dress pants. Y/n remains frozen under one of the stone arches at the garden’s entrance, her dagger prominent in its case around her thigh. 

His cold stare meets her cautious eyes and his face does nothing to soothe her nerves like it usually does. Instead, his stern expression stirs panic around in her stomach and makes her feel ill. Y/n abandons her original plan to stay withdrawn from the situation because once she sees him, she breaks. 

“I can’t kill you, Clay!” 

Dream freezes at her sudden shout. The pain in her voice makes him clench his jaw, and soon he’s approaching her. “What?”

Y/n inhales sharply, her breath hitching in her throat before she continues. “You know that I came here to kill you, you figured it out! And now I can’t go through with it.” 

“Why?” Dream’s glare challenges her.

“Don’t make me answer that,” 

“Y/n,” 

“Clay.”

“I asked you a question. Answer it.” 

Y/n squeezes her eyes shut, her fists tense by her sides. Dream’s blunt tone is the last thing she needs to suppress her feelings further. “Because I hate you and I can’t possibly assassinate you when I have feelings like that—it’s immoral.” 

He scoffs at her horrible excuse. “If you truly hate me, I would’ve been dead the first second you saw me. Don’t lie to me, Y/n.” 

Y/n could scream—in frustration, in anger, in heartbreak. She wants to stand on the ledge of the Astronomy Tower and scream about how much she loves him; scream about how much she hates him; scream about how she would go to the ends of the earth for a man she is supposed to murder. 

“Leave me, Clay. I need to be alone.” 

With the shake of his head, Dream steps closer. “You love me; that’s why. It took me a while to realise, but I know now. And the worst part is, I love you too.” 

The confession has Y/n panicking. Her eyes widen, and her hands scramble to snatch the knife from her thigh—but Dream’s quicker. He leaps towards her, his body colliding with hers as they stumble onto the grass. Y/n’s dagger presses against his neck, but there’s one against hers too. 

An unfamiliar panic runs through Y/n as she feels a blade across her throat, but she keeps a hard exterior. The deadly look in Dream’s eye catches Y/n off guard as she pushes her knife firmly. A split appears on his skin—his blood dripping onto her neck, making him readjust his grip on his own dagger. 

His mother’s face flashes through Dream’s mind while he swallowed thickly. He apologises in his thoughts as he glares at Y/n. 

The heat of his hot blood on her skin is unlike anything Y/n’s felt before; maybe it’s the bloodlust or something else, but Dream notices. 

Y/n opens her lips to speak but is stopped when he leans down to press his mouth against hers. The kiss is contrastingly soft compared to the incredibly vulnerable and intense position they’re in. Dream’s skin burns where the cut is and feels it grow as he leans closer to her face. Y/n gasps when she feels metal pierce her skin, and soon they’re whispering into each other’s lips. 

The end is near. And as Y/n stares into Dream’s enchanting, sinister eyes, she reaches. 

She reaches for the release she’s been begging for since she met him. She’s desperate to feel him one last time—in love and not hate. There's one final strand of hope that maybe, just maybe, he can see her dying love for him seep through her ever-growing bloodlust and absolute inhumanity. 

But he doesn’t. And the same devilish grin he wore when she had a blade to his throat for the first time splits his red cheeks. The twinkle in her eye tells him she feels it too, and then her teeth bare a vile smirk.

“I’ll love you forever, Clay.” 

“Forever is the sweetest con, my love.” 

There are dull sweeps of blades across skin, and then there’s silence. 

Excruciating, deafening nothingness.

And as the sun dips beyond the horizon, Y/n and Clay’s hands intertwine, not once sparing a glance back at their bodies that lay cold on the cobblestone pathway. 

Feedback is always appreciated xx

[ddullahan]

hadestown au 1

HI SO My anxiety has been through the fuckin roof for the past few weeks and in a fit of stress I deleted the first look of the bees hadestown au that I posted a few weeks ago. I’m feeling much better now and I wanted to repost it because I really am super excited about it >< Anyway, second verse, maybe same as the first, here we go! ---------------- it’s an old song As all tales begin, there comes a moment of question. The precipice we all stand at, toes hanging over the edge, eager to take the plunge. The question, different for every eye and ear turned to the story, starts as a feeling. It buoys us through the long swathes of paragraphs ahead. It seeps into our minds, and pushes us off the edge. We have that moment of freefall. Of realisation. We have to trust in something to catch us. Like most fairy tales, it begins with once upon a time. There laid a railroad track.   If you've ever heard the rails sing on a good, windy day, you'd know the sound sticks to the back of your mind. There to stay until the dark of night, when it creeps up to whisper wanderlust into your bones. The song of the rails is a low and resonant thing, humming into the willows scattered along the railroad sides. They used to say the rails were the Fates groaning in your ears. Urging you along. Waiting in anticipation for the train to come to call. Waiting for the story to start its freefall. The metal likes to wail beneath blackened wheels on hot, summer days. Days much like the one in which our story begins. Once upon a time - Metal chatters under the weight of an ancient, scorch-marked train. Decorated with blacked out windows. Panes of glass soot-stained, like they’d been brushed with fire one too many times. Coal smoke bursts from its chimney with a grudge, flooding the gray skies in the type of black smog that you can taste in the back of your mouth, long after the train’s disappeared. It was painted white once, a long, long time ago. A gift from the boss man down below for his flowering wife; but it’s one of those gifts you shove in the back of your drawer. One of those things that you spend your nights lying awake in bed, thinking in guilty chords. The train still runs, but the old white sides are now black and cold. Like the panting of dogs on the skin of your heels, the wind still blows hot behind it. The only thing it tows are souls to their final destination, but it won't take you if you ain't got the gold to board. It’s a fact almost everyone knows. ‘Cause the old legends say the road to hell could lead you out of poverty, but you gotta pay the toll to get that good money. The wind cracks and snaps after the train; sends the short ribbons of inky black hair whipping. Snapping into the brown-skinned face of a hungry young woman.   Blake Belladonna’s eyes glint like knives with a debt to pay, and her steps are sure footed against the rolling rocks under her boots. She wears a weathered bag slung over her shoulder, and a once-warm leather duster now worn to shit and hole-y. She seems small among the billowing willows and smoggy skies. She doesn't know where she's going or how she got to the railroad at all - but she knows how to turn her collar against the wind. And she knows how to run.   Metal shrieks, pulling her eyes up like a hand to the chin. She’s left to watch as the ruined, black omen of a train screams past a small, dilapidated station. It’s the only structure for miles. The cicadas are screaming along to the wailing of the tracks in a symphony, until the locomotive vanishes over the curve of a distant hill. The station's dry, mud-caked windows send silt drifting to cracked, rotting floorboards. The coke-bottle thick panes rattle angrily in their fragile frames, and then come to find their peace once more. Damn this is a dump, the young woman thinks, approaching the station. But it'll have to do. The sun's rays sink into her skull and turn her warm brown skin hot to the touch. It's far too hot for April. Stepping into the shade is an immediate relief, until the hot wind kicks up again. It blasts in her face as if to remind her it's there. As if she could ever forget. She's used to the way it whispers starvation in her ears. She throws the door open and escapes from the wind; stumbles her way into the empty station. Small and dusty like it’d been forgotten, filled with only two benches facing each other and a single door hiding behind them in the gloom. There's a sign on the door that reads "End o  th  line Caf ". Faintly, she can hear music behind it. Blake doesn't hesitate, and heads for the door. The knob breaks off in her hand, but it feels familiar and solid so she pockets it and heads inside. Follows the hallway and the pull of her feet to the music. The walls grow darker and thicker with polished wood. Her steps don't seem to echo and the music has since paused. The quiet starts to make her anxious. She doesn't like dark hallways. She's dreamt of them enough for a lifetime. The further she goes, the more her unease starts to grow and the more she starts to wonder if she's been here before. It's ridiculous, really. This is the farthest south she'd ever gone. Or was she in the east? Her anxious heart speeds up for a reason she can't see, and it's like her feet already know where to go. The hallway turns suddenly and she finds herself standing at the rim of an amphitheater of sorts. The music fades back in. There's a band jamming to soft jazz in the stands, people crowded and conversing at tiny tables scattered about the flat floor at the bottom. There's a man at a piano playing a diddy, there's a flicker of gold in the kitchen beyond. It's alive in a way that she hadn't seen in a long time, and she finds her feet eager to join the dancing 'round the tables below. She takes a step and nearly runs into another woman, decked out in a crisp white and red suit. She’s older, maybe late thirties or mid forties - has this eternally kind, yet melancholy smile. Her features are fair, but tired. Her black hair is pulled back like Blake’s, but tipped with red like the ends had been dipped in paint. Blake apologises immediately - "E-excuse me, sorry," and starts picking her way down to the tables. "No worries dear," She hears faintly behind her, the older woman's face already blurred from her memory. She blinks and suddenly she’s on the bottom floor, with the movers and shakers rattling cups with their stomping jive. She wants to move with them, but she's already reaching for an empty chair, like her hand was following its own storyline. The flash of gold catches her attention again. Her feet slip into a shallow groove in the floor, and she is rooted. Something crashes, and her eyes follow the clattering sharp shards of porcelain. One piece with purple trim bounces off a brown boot. She notices a hole near the big toe. Blake looks up, and her heart decides to freefall.   All the way across the floor stands a young woman in an apron. A bucket of newly broken dishes lay at her feet.   Her eyes are so pale and pretty they have their own orbit amidst the aging lights above. Her blonde hair ripples into liquid gold, twisted messily into a bun. Broad shoulders are cinched into position with suspenders and there's an off-white shirt rolled up to her elbows, the hem tucked into a pair of trousers. The skin of her strong forearms are tanned and riddled with freckles, spreading constellations all the way up her neck and across the gradual slope of her nose.   Oh, there's something familiar about all of this. Blake feels it in her bones. There’s something familiar in the ‘o’ of her startled mouth. Something about the empty hands she hovers, still holding an imaginary bucket of plates. She's got those sharp lilac eyes pinned on something in front of her.   It's a jolt to realise she's staring right at Blake. Though suddenly, that older woman in the white and red suit sweeps by that freckled face, and it's with a smile and a wave that their staring contest ends. No one claims the victory as the spell breaks. The older woman asks something that Blake can't hear, but she knows her voice is soft and sweet. Her feet move like she’s skating on air, and Blake decides to focus on that. She focuses on that instead of the heartbeat in her chest. She doesn’t think about how her pulse no longer feels like it belongs to herself. The golden woman nods stiffly and turns. Follows the gliding woman to the back of the house, and Blake is left with a heart migrating into her throat. The hungry young woman quickly tears her gaze away, uproots her feet from the grooves in the floor, and sits at the table she'd claimed. Her skin feels clammy. Her body is buzzing. She shrugs off her bag and coat, then pulls her bag into her lap. As if there was anything in there worth protecting. It could be minutes, it could be hours. She's really not sure, when a shadow falls over her table, and the sight aches like an old friend. A bottle of some fizzy drink is set gently before her, the bottle cap rattling towards her side of the table. Sunflower Pop, it reads. She looks up. The poor young woman, with her liquid gold locks wrapped in a messy topknot, stares right back. They're both struck speechless.   If there was ever a moment where destiny fills the lungs, it was then. Anticipation strings itself between their ribs, the cords like telephone wires humming their universal tune. I found you. I found you. I found you. But neither of them say a word to each other. The anticipation feels closer to a noose than a cup-and-string, the longer they spend breathing in the other's presence. The hungry young woman with hair black as night, just couldn't look away. Couldn't make her voice work right. The gold haired woman's jaw seems to work, but there was still no sound to be heard. Eventually the woman just turns around and walks away, toddling and tripping like her knees were unsteady. Blake sits where she left her, feeling much more than sympathy. She feels like her chair would collapse with her if she tried to follow. And again, there are voices whispering in the back of her mind. The wind already found her inside this place, its voices groaning and hollow. It always finds her, and she knows. She knows it always will. But as her slender fingers wrap around the neck of the bottle left on her table, Blake tastes the fizz and hums. Feels the crackle of carbonation all across her skin as she tracks the tall blonde with her eyes. The wind doesn’t feel like a whip in this vibrant, lively place. That has to count for something. Maybe she should stick around, just for one day. Maybe she would stick around and wait for the band to play.

[nct-jungjaehyun]

broken promises and long distance with jung jaehyun

this came out a long longer than i expected but i hopeyou love it nonetheless! please check out my pinned post if you can, it would mean a lot. happy reading with jung jaehyun.

the calendar stared back at you in disappointment. january 19th. it felt like just yesterday when you first brushed your hands on this leather sofa and promised yourself that you would tell him everything.

after boyfriend!jaehyun’s long pleads and whines, you finally stepped away from the states and came back into his arms. you graduated from college last year during late may, but you created a handful of excuses to lengthen your stay there. 

jaehyun did not mind waiting. he had been waiting for 14 years, what was a little more time? most of all, he was determined that time was not his enemy, distance was. friends and family warned him that your heart might stray, but he remained unmoved by his own heart. even when you had posted a picture of yourself being piggybacked by another man while posing on the top of the mountains, he never brought it up in your text messages. he never showed a hint of jealousy. while he never doubted your love for him, he was filled with constant fear that he would chase you away. whether he was on stage or filming a variety show, he made sure to keep his distance from all females and earned himself the title as the idol who cannot flirt for his life. however, his text messages with you tell a different story. his text bubbles would all fall under the category of lovey-dovey. the batches of cringey voice messages he delivered every week still sat unopened on your end.

you, on the other hand, returned his packages of text messages with lesser words as the months slipped by. for a college student as busy as you, a simple ‘okay’ seemed more than sufficient. you always wondered how jaehyun had endless time on his hands to send you paragraphs of text, some felt longer than the english assignments you were given.

before you went to the states, your entire world knew about jaehyun’s feelings for you. jaehyun’s world was much bigger, incomparably bigger. he had his fans to worry about and his members to stress for. you felt like a speck of dust in his life. the constant reminder from your parents that jaehyun will be the ultimate husband lost its meaning somewhere in between. 

moving to the states meant that a whole new planet will be added into your life. it was fascinating, all the people and places. at first, your motivation behind your english major was jaehyun. you wanted to communicate with him on another level, as well as to impress his members and fans if they were to ever find out about your relationship. during your second year in college, you considered giving up on your studies. the hundreds and thousands of dollars that jaehyun had poured from his own wallet to support you in college would have gone to waste. the guilt was enough to keep you up at night, questioning everything that you were doing. what were you going to do with this knowledge? you were staying up night after night to rush papers that lacked passion and energy. like a ghost, you floated through the crowded halls and sat through classes as an invisible. eating and sleeping turned into things that required immense effort. jaehyun sent his support not only financially, but also spiritually: “don’t forget to eat breakfast!” or “sleep tight!” in the end, you failed to meet his expectations. 

the wobbly tower you tried so hard to keep upright collapsed. a classmate took you to the hospital when you fainted at the library one day. he stayed at your bedside until the nurses informed him that you were replenished with all the nutrients and vitamins your frail body desperately craved for. it was not a long process, but the nightmares and loneliness the first few nights were unbearable. that is until he began coming by after class every day to tend to you. he was different from jaehyun. he was younger, but he carried a sense of maturity and sophistication that other men around you failed to demonstrate. unlike the other man across the world performing his heart out for his audience, this man on your bedside was willing to hold your hand and be the first person you see when you open your eyes. 

on the day of your graduation, you gave jaehyun another chance to grasp the tiny bit of hope to spark your relationship again. the first chance was at the hospital. you told yourself that you would clench your teeth and fight through the rest of college if he can show up right then. sure, a figure walked through and, we already know, it was your classmate, not jaehyun.

graduation day. you stared at the mirror and took a deep breath. “jung jaehyun,” you said, at the image of him pulled up on your phone, “be here for me and i promise i will be there for you for the rest of our lives.”

you waited and waited. they called your name and from the podium your eyes squinted into the sea of proud family and relatives of the class of 2020. sitting in your designated seat for valedictorians, you twist your back to search for him. again, nowhere to be found.

you called him the moment that the ceremony was over, hoping that you had simply missed him in the crowd and he was lingering somewhere on the grassy field with your parents.

the call went to voicemail. maybe his phone was on silent. you called again. nothing. the monotone voice that instructed you to call again played back quicker this time.

out of nowhere a hug engulfed you from the back. you broke out into a huge smile, realizing that jaehyun was still the same romantic and cheesy boy you knew best. 

you were wrong. 

turning around, the one who had hugged you was your classmate. in his arm, the object that spiked your back, was a bouquet of flowers. they were crysanthemums, your favorite. “congratulations,” he said, his cheeks blushing a strong pink, “i’m very proud of you.” it surprised you when he leaned down to kiss you on the cheek, but you did not dodge from it. it was sweet and charming of him.

today is january 19th and it was time to tell jaehyun everything. 

right on schedule, you see him coming through the main entrance of the sm building. he patted your head and asked, “hey, why did you want to meet me here?”

“it’s been a month since i came back and you’re already tired of me?” you laughed.

he shook his head, laughing with you, and invited you to the practice room. “the members are out shopping together. we have the practice room to ourselves.”

it always felt stifling to be around him. jaehyun was a delight, but sneaking around like criminals just to talk was not.

walking up to the practice room, where a plaque with the words NCT were engraved on it, felt like a blur. your heart was pounding and your legs somehow found it difficult to walk on flat ground. walking with him was not that bad if you compared it with what came after. the both of you broke out into an all out fight.

“what do you mean you found someone else? i waited so long for you to come back!” he shouted, arms flailing.

you flinched at the volume of his voice. you can not remember the last time that he raised his voice at you. “jaehyun, we were never really a thing. normal things that normal couples do, we never did any of those. you know that. we promised each other that we were going to get married when i finished college, but deep down we both knew that wasn’t gonna happen.”

“i don’t know about you, but i believed it was going to happen. why are you giving up on us so easily?”

“you’re telling me that you will be willing to let our relationship destroy your reputation and threaten your career? do it right now and we’ll get married.”

you left him speechless. it never occurred to him that he would have to choose. he felt that it would just happen, that he will have both. you and his career.

“when i was in the hospital-” you started.

“when were you in the hospital?” he interrupted, rushing forward to hold your arm. his eyes glanced down once, as if making sure he did not miss a broken limb.

“i forgot to eat my meals and i stayed up to finish work. no one was there to take care of me. i don’t blame you for that, but i silently wished, i wished hard, that you would show up. if you did, i was willing to give up everything, just to be by your side.”

“if i showed up...” jaehyun wondered how much this would have all changed if he would have listened to his heart. he missed you so much but when he thought about all the faces in the audience, he knew it wasn’t a decision for him to make. he had a responsibility to be a part of NCT. he assumed the love you two had for each other would be strong enough to withstand all of the obstacles.

“my graduation ceremony, where were you?” you questioned, although you already knew the answer. you surfed the web that night and realized that he had another ceremony to attend, an award ceremony. his group won best artist of the year.

when he didn’t answer, you answered for him, “congratulations on the award. i wasn’t sure if i should have mentioned it before...”

he took a step back, furthering the gap between the two of you. his eyes were growing teary and so were yours. “he was there... both times when i wasn’t?”

you nodded and stared at your feet as tears dripped onto your shoes.

that gap was restored when he leapt forward and gripped you tightly against his chest. he was sobbing now. “i’m sorry. please don’t leave. we can fix this. we can fix- we can still- we still love each other, don’t we?”

you sniffed back your tears, “don’t do this, jaehyun. it’s time to let go. we wasted 14 years bounded by this obligation to love each other. we loved each other too much.”

the knives that stabbed into your heart felt like they were being pulled out. one by one. all the wounds were opening, vulnerable for bacteria to infect it.

he pulled away and turned around to wipe away all of his tears that strayed from the rest which had soaked into your shirt.

your phone rang from the pocket of your jeans. jaehyun tensed at the new ringtone. it used to be the tune of his song, try again. the new ringtone was unfamiliar to him, but it was a song that you heard often. it was a piano recording of your favorite song played by him.

“don’t pick up. we’re not over. you can’t do this to me. tell me, what did i do wrong?” jaehyun was getting desperate. you wanted your relationship to work out as much as he did, but the only person who can heal the wounds in your heart was not him, it was the person who was calling you right then.

you picked up the call and put his voice on speaker. i contrast, his voice was soft and assuring, “hey, i’m outside, are you ready? i can drive around the block if you need some more time.”

you smiled at his attentiveness. it felt as if the world was put on hold and only you and him existed—something you once felt with jaehyun. “i’ll be right there, two more minutes, okay?”

jaehyun’s strong breaths pulled you away from your phone call. you glanced at him for a moment before talking into the phone, “hey, i’m really hungry, can we go to my favorite restaurant for dinner?”

you can see his smile despite not seeing him in person, “i already made a reservation, love. i also got you your favorite flowers, crysanthemums.”

“i’ll see you soon, alright? bye,” you ended.

“bye,” a barely audible kiss sound came from the phone before you tapped end call.

jaehyun did not hesitate to pick at your boyfriend’s words like a lawyer, “your favorite restaurant is not open today. your favorite flowers are roses. he doesn’t even know you.”

you sighed and grinned at him, trying your best not to look apologetic, because there was no need for apologies. “my favorite restaurant changed. it’s a new name that originated from the states. i never liked roses. your favorite are roses. i was never fond of the color red.

“things change, jaehyun, our hobbies, our favorite foods. these are all feelings. don’t ignore these feelings. right now, i only have feelings for him.” you raised your phone towards jaehyun at your last word, reminding him that the person you grew a newfound love for is real.

lifting the necklace from underneath your shirt, you twirled the ring that looped on the rope. “he gave me this promise ring. he has one, too. it’s a commitment. we’re both going to keep this promise.”

with that said, you turned away and headed for the door.

you paused after two steps, without turning around, you added, “be happy, jaehyun. find someone who will keep your promise and make sure to put them on top of all of your other commitments. i’ll pay you back all the money bit by bit. it’ll work out somehow.”

you heard a loud thump on the floor. it must be jaehyun. a part of you wanted to go back and comfort him, but going back would mean never moving forward.

the one outside waiting for you was willing to move forward with you. he inspired you to use your english major for private tutoring and perhaps someday write a book. 

holding your head high, you took a deep breath. you were glad to finally put jaehyun behind you. 

you did not want to dream of the future anymore, but one thing that you knew for sure: don’t lose sight of the one you have right now and love him with your whole heart.

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

Ransom Drysdale x Reader (Dad!AU)

Summary: Ransom Drysdale, a man who didn’t make wise decisions in his teens. Wasting three years of his life in jail, he takes his freedom for another two. Little did he know, a woman he long ago had a thing for, ends up leaving him with a 16-year-old for the holidays. Hazel Rose Drysdale. His daughter.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

This takes place after Knives Out. Family will be mentioned, there will be minor spoilers for Knives Out.

Warnings: Bad parenting, swearing, Ransom being an asshole, minor spoilers for Knives Out, angst, mentions of murder/jail, minor mental abuse, mentions of abortion/pregnancy, Mentions of suicide

I do not consent to have my work hosted on any second party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

There’s a Hamilton reference in here and I couldn’t help but throw it in there.

You always thought San Francisco was a horrible place to be on your own for. Having a job there, you’d be an hour late if you lived outside the city. This year had been tough on you. You felt like your rent was going up or that your job was getting lower paychecks. Your head was spinning every day that you could barely answer anyone’s questions. The lack of sleep you get every night, especially having to wake up every day at six. 

You fix yourself a coffee but then end up at a nearby Starbucks to grab one. They always had better coffee for your energy gain. You weren’t really a money maker, you drove a very old red Honda. You have bills coming in through the mail slot that it has you wanting to burn them to ashes. You couldn’t handle enough stress, especially having a 16-year-old daughter.

At that age that’s when you had your only precious little girl, Hazel. You always made sure she never met any boy that could have her end up like you long ago. Being a teen mom wasn’t easy. Even lying to your daughter was something you couldn’t bear to keep from. It was only to protect her.

Hazel never spoke once about who her father was. As a child, she had dolls and those dolls were a family. One mother, one daughter and a father. Hazel made them the happiest dolls in her mind. She never asked anything related to her family’s relations or where they lived.

She was home schooled since, you were too afraid to have her at school and be bullied by boys or girls. It was something you dealt with and you didn’t want that to happen to her. You didn’t have the money for her too. Gas money, bills, dinner and rent were your only priorities. To have a roof over Hazel’s head, to drive her to the library or stores to get new outfits, feed her every morning, afternoon and night. Like you said, it wasn’t easy.

Your parents live up in Oregon for a while now and you would sometimes visit them over the holidays. Their reactions to your pregnancy, it didn’t end well. The few weeks of being pregnant, they were disappointed. The father’s side of the family had been one of the most entitled families in town. You grew up in Massachusetts and when you got pregnant, your parents moved to Oregon after you had Hazel. 

And Hazel’s father abandoned you. Being 17 and 16, you were the one scared while he watched you in disgust and asked to abort your child. That decision was one of the hardest decisions of your life. Either live with the pain of delivering your baby girl or painfully lay on your bed thinking you could’ve had a good life with your daughter.

And you did have a good life whether you struggled to keep her happy. You hope no boy or man could ruin her reputation and lose hope in the world to make someone happy. “Miss L/N.” The dark velvet voice made you lose your trance and your eyes darted over to your boss. Or someone who is your guide for three years. 

Mr. Charles Leyman. His blonde hair was combed to the side, his piercing blue eyes could have any office women get lost in. His suits were always made fine by a professional and his watches always came in different colors. Surely, they were over a thousand dollars. Charles had been your guide since you joined the large business in San Francisco. He was very kind, charming and he always knew personal space. 

He always had a circle around him and it’d smell like his expensive cologne. Out of the cologne you’ve known, this one smelled like Guilty Intense. The Italian lemon, patchouli, amber, mandarin, and orange flower topping aroma was always attracting women. You wondered if he was a mama’s boy just on how much of a gentleman he was.

You saw his side grin creep up to his face, “You must be preoccupied in your own mind palace,” He mentioned towards you. Your hand reaches up to the small strand of hair and you pull it back. “Sorry.” Charles folds his hands in each other and leans on his desk. The man was in his thirties, a couple more years older than you. 

“You know, you don’t always have to apologize for everything you do that is no harm. I just didn’t want you to be stuck in your head, Miss L/N.” Your head lifts up to him. He softly grins, “I wanted to discuss your recent report on the Berkeley College. Something about the Science and Technology Event on October 28th.”

You gently tilted your head, “What about it?” Charles lifted the print of the page and scanned through as if he wasn’t sure himself what the problem was. He clicks his tongue, “You kind of repeated yourself in a couple paragraphs. Even spelling errors. Have you been using-”

You nod, eyes closing slowly out of embarrassment, “Yes, I was. But I think our internet was shut off due to th-”

“That forum doesn’t need the internet to correct your mistakes. It corrects off Wi-Fi.” You sighed softly, turning your gaze away from him and he lowers the paper down to look at you, solemnly. “Look, Miss L/N. I’m not here to criticize you, I’m here to help you. And I know you have a 16-year-old at home and the father’s passing, you-”

“I will say this once and I hope you take it as it is. I’m fine.” Charles leans back a little to your response. Watching you closely to see your hands fidget in your lap. He almost felt like a brother to you, but there were moments where he offered you to dinner and almost walked you over to your car. It was embarrassing to see him and his silver Audi. You were sure he had a Tesla. The invites to his home were always nice. Charles knew your daughter well.

They got along well and never heard a single bad thing from Hazel, saying she had a good time with Charles. Hazel always told you how much fun she had with anything, she walks over to the public library, tells you about a book she read. You know she went to the library when she texted you earlier this morning.

That day, you relaxed at your desk and looked over the recent drafts of your future reports to go on the papers. You feel your phone ring and your hand picks it up from the desk. 

Incoming call from Hazel-Bear

You picked up the phone and held it up to your ear, “Hey, baby.” 

“Hey, mom. Can you pick me up?” You look over to the wall with the clock, showing the time. You were only a few ways away. “Can you wait for 10 minutes?” You hear Hazel hum in a yes, “Yeah. I’m just sitting in the library.” You began to close your computer and logged off. “Okay, honey. I’ll text you when I get there.” You started to put your papers in your bag and slipped in your laptop. “Okay. Bye, mom! Love you.”

“Love you, too. I’ll see you.”

Hazel was always the type to listen. As a child, she wasn’t spoiled as much because of what you had as a teenager. You were glad she didn’t end up like her father. She was sweet. Her smiles always made everyone welcomed in her space. Gatherings and meetings, your co-workers and friends always chatted about your daughter. Hazel would always keep a conversation lit up and she’d make every interesting comment. Being a book-worm, she would go on and on like a Stephen King book or become William Shakespeare and her words were strong.

You’d do anything for her, no matter what. Picking her up at the library was always a doing for you. The distance wasn’t long but you enjoyed picking her up there. 

You pull up to the front of the library and see your daughter come up to the side of the door and jump in. “Thank you, mom,” She says, you greet her with a smile and watch her hold a book in her hand. “You’re welcome, honey. Did you return Hesse?”

Hazel nods and looks over to you, “Yeah. And I found this interesting book called Vulcan’s Den. Everyone’s been reading the author’s books since he died 5 years ago.” You glance over to her, seeing her eyes read the story in her hands. She looked like she was through 10 chapters already. “Hm. Who’s the author?”

“Harlan Thrombey.”

Your face froze into a fit of shock. Your fists twist around the wheel and Hazel spoke the whole time but then realized you had been temporarily deaf. “...he committed suicide.”

You look up to see the red light and you step on the break causing the car to jerk forward a bit. Your eyes lower to your hands on the wheel, “What, sweetheart?” Hazel turns and gently closes her book. “I said, he was found dead in his home. Committed suicide.” Hazel turns back to her book with a grin. “He was a really good author. I’ve been thinking about writing stories, too! He always knew how to make crime and mysteries such a good genre.”

Your eyes stare in front like you just ran over someone but all you could do is nod and say, “That’s... tragic, sweetheart. I’m sure he would’ve loved to hear your stories.” And your way back home was silent for the next 10 minutes. The only name coming to flood your mind like a banshee. Screaming internally, your  heart felt like pin needles were jabbing into it and your breathing somewhat became more quite. As if you died in your seat but your mind kept going on.

Harlan Thrombey.

A man who writes like he’s running out of time.

That night, you had just made dinner and sat in the small living room watching television as usual. Glancing over to the kitchen sharing with the dining room, you see Hazel at the table, eating and reading the book she got today. You  couldn’t help but grin at her read the book with such concentration. 

You turn your gaze over to the TV but you didn’t pay mind to it. The sounds of your neighbors playing music or their dogs barking above you. Hazel closes her book and sighs softly. “Oh mom?” She asks, you turn to her, raising your brows up. “Hm?”

Her hand rests on the table as she turns her body towards you, “There’s this musical coming into Oakland in December and I was thinking we can get tickets? I don’t know if you’re familiar with Hamilton.” You tried not to give Hazel the look of ‘I’m sorry’, you just stared at her blankly, trying to sound less of a bad mother. Sure the tickets were a bit over 50 dollars. You couldn’t even nod as you sighed, “We’ll see, sweetheart.”

Hazel turns away and picks up her book to head over to her room and you tried not to think about Harlan.

Yes, he was familiar to you. A famous author who published hundreds of books based on mysteries and murder. You weren’t there when Harlan was killed. But you knew someone at work who actually wrote the report about him. Police finding out about not only his suicide but his oldest grandchild was in jail for murder and arson. 

You didn’t know much but you’ve read the report so many times. Harlan was a good author and you were happy to see your daughter read a book from someone who was related to her. Hazel never knew much about her father’s side of the family. You tried your best to keep her silent about it and she never asked once. 

You remembered you had things that could make her brighten up. You stood up from your spot and made your way into your bedroom. You walked over to your closet and turned on the light to look up. Seeing a dark box written ‘Books’ on the side, you reach up and slid it off the edge and into your arms. You placed it on your bed and reached in for the book collection with Harlan’s name printed on every book.

You opened one and saw a small message written in cursive with his name at the end. Harlan always gave you the first copy and made sure you gotten them. His books made it into films and he gave you the movies and that’s where these old films laid in. Hazel will like to watch these over and over. “Ro, baby,” You call out.

You hear her call back and made her search around the apartment and met you in the bedroom. You turned and sat on the edge of your bed. “You love books, right?” You asked. Hazel nods questionably, “Yeah?” You placed your hand on the edge of the box, “These are special and old. It might not sound real to you but these are all first copies.” Hazel makes her way over and slightly gasps.

“They’re... Harlan books?” She pulls them out and opens the first book, “And he signed them!” Hazel looks up to you with a smile. Shockingly, it made you smile, “I want you to take care of these really good for me, okay? You can take them to your room and read them.” Hazel slams herself into your chest and hugs you tightly.

“Thank you, mom.”

You wrap your arms around her and held her there, placing a kiss on her head. “I love you, too, sweetheart.” Hazel wasted no time into bringing the books into her room. Her eyes scanned every letter written in the books by the author, himself. He kept calling you, sweetheart. Hazel wondered if you knew him really well. You collected every book from him and they were all first copies. The films were never used and they were amazing. Hazel began to pull each of them out on her bed and reached for the last book that was wider than the others.

Hazel lifts it up and sees the cute designs.

Memories.

Hazel turns around to sit on her bed as her fingers graze over the small stickers that were worn out. She read your name on the front of the cover and flipped the page over. Photos of her grandparents, your mom and dad taking you out to the lake. A couple pictures of you reading books. Your 15th birthday photo was very old and you looked just like her. Hazel flipped the next pages and the photos gotten bigger. And the months grew further on.

Pictures of you in a dress. Your junior year in a blue silk dress, your hair was perfectly done with a bit of makeup. Hazel had not seen you so beautiful with makeup on. With a small grin, she flips the page and there’s a photo of you again at what looked like your prom dance. Her grin slowly freezes when she sees someone stand next to you with a small grin.

His hair was slick back, his tuxedo was a matching blue and his bow tie was black. His jaw was sharp enough to cut paper. Hazel knew you had her at the age of 16, the date takes back a few months before your birthday. Hazel had to think he was someone you were with. A picture of carved initials with a heart around them.

The ‘R’ was carved along with your initial and in between your initials was a plus sign. Hazel grew more into the photos and kept going over the pages. The next photos never had the boy in the photos any more. But you had your hands on your stomach with a grin. You had to be about one month pregnant. But the boy you had in the other photos never appeared in these.

Then you happened to be in Oregon. You said you were born in Oregon and lived there since you were born. Where were you before? Hazel flipped a couple more and her photos came into view. Her baby pictures were old and very nicely situated. Hazel grins softly at the photos and opened the last page to have things slip out.

Hazel catches the piece of paper and small patch from a high school logo. She looks over the patch that must’ve came from a private school. She flipped it over and read it.

Hugh D. MA, Boston

Hazel furrowed her brows at the name. Hugh must’ve been a different boy you dated. She reaches for the paper that was partially ripped in half and placed the two together like a puzzle.

Ransom (xxx) xxx - xxxx

She read the letter and saw the added heart to his name. Ransom. Who was Ransom and Hugh? 

“Honey! Did you want to finish your show?” You called out to Hazel. The teenager puts the things back in the book and puts it back in the box. “Uh... Yeah! I’m coming!” And she covered it up with the others and made her way out of her room into the living room. Hazel couldn’t help but think about who her dad was. 

The next morning, you made breakfast and Hazel began to eat what you’ve made. Bacon, eggs and some toast. You poured her some juice and began to clean up your mess on the counter and placed a couple dishes into the dish washer. The sounds of Hazel’s utensils scrapping against the plate, she glanced up at you and saw your calm content face doing normal chores. 

“Who’s my dad?” 

You drop a plate from your hands and it falls into the sink once again and shatters in pieces causing Hazel to painfully watch and you turn to her. It was bound to happen, but you didn’t expect it this soon. You did you?  “What?” 

Hazel nibbles on her bottom lip and gently puts her fork down and pulls her hand to her lap. “I... I want to know who dad was.” You cross your arms and reached to grab your grin and rub the sides. Hazel lowers her gaze, “I saw two names in this photo book. Hugh and Ransom. I want to know who they were. And did my father actually die in an accident?”

It was like your worst fear and the countless nightmares were coming to life. Hazel sat there for answers now. You needed to give her small details in order for her to freak out less. You never wanted to upset Hazel. Just like you didn’t want to upset her father when you first told him the news.

“But I knew Harlan very well. I met him as a kid and he gave almost every first copy of his books. I knew him because I met his oldest grandson at the age of 15. His name was Hugh.”

“So is Ransom my biological father? And Hugh was just-” Hazel noticed the shook of your head, your lips pierced together as if you tried not to spill everything towards her. The fear to see her get scared of the truth. “Those names are from one person, sweetheart. He was complicated between his first and middle name. Hugh Ransom Drysdale. He was just a year older than me.” Hazel turns her head and whispers.

“Hazel Rose Drysdale.”

You hum in response, furrowing your brows. “Is he alive?” She asked, you instantly stand up, pushing yourself off the counter, “Honey, please. Finish eating.”

“I want to know, mom. Don’t I get to say anything about him-?”

“Hazel, please. Eat your food, I’m not in the mood now to discuss your family relations-”

“You’ve lied and I need to know what else you’ve been keeping away from me.” You turn away from her and finished off the last Tupperware and sighed. It was gonna take a while for her to lose the thoughts to go away and have her continue on something else. “Mom-”

“Hazel, please! I can’t discuss this now!” You snapped. Hazel’s fingers curl into her palm and she fidgeted her thumb under them. Her feet kick herself back and she stood up. “Thank you for dinner,” she muttered, leaving her plate on the table while making her way into her room. You sighed out of regret and turned to the window. 

You couldn’t tell if Hazel was crying or playing music to calm herself. You never outburst on her like that. Never in your days you’d shout at her. The mention of her father had to come out sooner or later. The truth never made its way over to you. Hazel wasn’t ready to find out. You weren’t ready to give it to her. Maybe never.

You just cleaned up her plate and put the leftovers in the fridge in case she wanted more since she barely ate thinking too much about her father. 

You got a shower going and left the house, leaving a note on Hazel’s door. Your drive to work was a bit long but you managed to get there in time. Taking the elevator to the office floor, you set up your stuff on your desk and began to go through your recent reports.

Checking every wording and errors you can spot.

A soft knock hits your wall and a woman peaks over. Your office neighbor. “Morning, babes. How you doing?” 

You let out a soft sigh, “Morning, Ciara.” Your fingers worked against the keyboard, writing away till someone takes your chair and spun you around. The red-head lightly glares in your eyes. You turn your head, “What?” You asked, Ciara squints her eyes. “What happened?” She replies with the same questionable tone. All you did was shake your head and Ciara pouts at you. She was never going to let you get away that easily.

.

“She knows about her dad?”

You nod towards her, raising your mug up to your lips to regain your energy. Ciara pinches her chin to be in a thinking stance and her brows bounce up, “Well, shit.” You look over to her and she lightly laughs. “What am I going to do?” You ask.

Ciara thinks, “Well... I don’t think you can keep her away forever.”

“What do you mean?” You ask once more, Ciara tilts her head at you and that made your heart drop. “No. No! I cannot do that-” Ciara drops her arms from the crossing and sighs. “Y/N, you really messed up the pooch here. If my mom lied about my dad being dead, I would’ve wanted to meet him.”

“You don’t know what he’s like,” You said, “He’s arrogant. A complete asshole-”

“Okay! Okay... but your daughter would have to at least get to know him. Give her a few days. Weeks. Who knows? Maybe he’ll come around. Hazel needs a father figure in her life and every kid would want to have their parents together.” You shook your head softly and raised your glass back up to your lips and took a large sip. 

You wouldn’t trust Ransom being with Hazel for who knows how long. You couldn’t trust yourself to stay a day there. You wouldn’t last a minute to be in the same room with him. But you thought about Hazel. You felt more selfish for yourself than for Hazel. You had your dad but she never got to see him once. You kept him under a rock that Hazel couldn’t lift up and now she found his photo. 

She found you and him together. 

There can’t be a way to change her mind. Unless she stays with him. The holidays were coming up. Thanksgiving was only a few weeks away. Maybe you’d give her that much time with him. Ciara’s face leans down to look at you in the eye. For some kind of response for her to agree or to push. 

Your mug lowers from your face and you two just shared looks.

.

That day, you made your way back home after your work was finished. You felt like you swallowed bees. You didn’t bother to text Hazel you were coming home or that you were going to talk to her. You just needed to be home right away to talk to her. To tell her everything.

You were afraid to give her everything about him. You needed to take it slow every now and then. 

The moment you stepped into your apartment you dropped your bag and opened Hazel’s bedroom, seeing her on her bed with her laptop on her lap. “Hey, mom,” She says.

You grin softly, “Can I talk to you?” Hazel did not refuse and she watches you sit on the edge of her bed. Hazel knew this certain stance of a parent. “I know this morning was not my morning. But... I want you to know that I love you very much. And that I did not mean to yell. But I am willing... to tell you about your father. He didn’t die in an accident.”

Hazel closes her laptop and gently pulls her knees to cross in front of her. You did it yourself, crossing your leg over the other. “What do you want to know?” You ask in a calm voice. Hazel lowers her gaze to think about the millions of questions already scrambling through her head like a roller coaster. 

She finally caught one, “What was dad like?” She says, shyly. This was the question you didn’t want to hear from her. But you had to anyway, “He was... difficult to work with in school. His family was rich and so anything he could do wouldn’t be a problem. He was kind in some moments, I remembered his father always fought with him.”

“Did he leave when... you were?”

Hazel noticed your soft nod and your head lowers, picking at your nails like you were a little girl again. How much you blushed when he came toward you like you saw him for the first time. The way he pulled a strand behind your ear. He never complimented much nor did he say ‘I love you’. 

“We were around your age when I found out about you. After I told him, his parents flipped. And after a few days, he yelled and left. That’s when I moved to Oregon with your grandma and grandpa.” You reach for her hair and pushed it behind her ear. Just like he did to you.

Your hand rests on the sheets and you softly sighed. Regretting these words slip out like a load of cash falling out of an ATM. “If I trust you... to call me everyday, every night. I might consider something.”

“Consider what?” She asks, you don’t respond to her and that made her eyes slowly go wide. “To visit him?” You take her hand and gently grasped it. “I am sending you to Boston.”

“You can’t come?” She asked. You shook your head and reached up for her cheek. “I think it’s best to stay here and keep going to work. I have a project and I hate to leave you, but I really want you to call me. I love hearing your voice.” Hazel grins and nods. “Thank you, mom.”

You smile at her and pulled her to your chest. Placing a kiss on her forehead, you trusted her more now. The least of trust was from her father. The most scary thing to do was to call him. Hazel pulls away and she slips something into your hand. “What’s this?” You asked.

You opened the small note and read the similar number with his name written nicely in. “In case you didn’t have it.” You held the paper tight in your hand and turned to Hazel one last time before standing up. “Dinner will be ready in a couple minutes.” Hazel nods and went back to her own things as you left her room and went into yours.

You pulled out your phone and stared at the keypad. His number sitting on the paper, urging you to not call. 16 years apart, you never thought it’d come to this day. His daughter to stay with him for a while. What if he was still in jail? He could be with another woman and it’d be too late for Hazel to be with a man who’s married to another woman.

It’d be awkward.

Your thumb automatically pushes the numbers and your thumb hovers over the call button. Your breath began to get caught in your throat. Your eyes began to water and your fingers shook. You clicked the button and heard it buzz in your ear.

The ring went off.

You waited.

It rung again.

You swallowed hard. “Hello?”

“Hugh.”

“Who is this?”

“It’s me.”

“Who?”

“Y/N.”

There was a long pause. 

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[youtiaoshutiao]

传闻中的陈芊芊 thoughts

i haven’t been very active lately but i just came on to say, i binged on the romance of tiger and rose / 传闻中的陈芊芊 and have 2 eps left and i love it SO SO MUCH. i was expecting some pure crack but beyond that, i really ended up catching much feels for it?

and i think beyond the outlandish hilarity of some of the scenes and the cheeky meta, it’s actually a pretty decent drama with its plot and character motivations largely dictated by logic. i have to commend the scriptwriter nan zhen 南镇 for the entire set up of the drama (and it’s her original script!!! which is so rare in the industry nowadays run over by book adaptations - i mean i love those too but i still think it’s an easy way out for production companies when they adapt books with established fan bases). it’s actually really clever of her because all plot holes/flaws in world building can easily be attributed to xiaoqian’s lousy scriptwriting abilities?

i really did become quite impressed with the plot as the episodes progressed haha. the conflict and plot thickens as xiaoqian, now as qianqian, with the mindset that she’s not part of this story at all and that she’s interacting with a bunch of characters on paper, continues to engineer plot machinations trying to steer the plot in the right direction to get to the end so she can return back to the real world. and you slowly see how that just devolves into complete chaos and plot twists when surprise! she IS part of the story, she IS interacting with these characters and they are influenced by what she says and does! so you have her original male lead hanshuo, destined for the female lead chuchu, falling in love instead with her and changing his entire plan because of that. you have chuchu, the original female lead, slowly growing more unhinged as she perceives qianqian’s actions and words as callous and uncaring and outrightly antagonistic towards herself and as her resentment builds when everyone seems to shower affection and attention on qianqian still.

adding on to that is, how xiaoqian as a scriptwriter views and perceives her characters? some characters like hanshuo, she clearly constructed with much care and love, as seen by how she knows exactly how to make hanshuo happy and doesn’t want to upset him in the initial episodes (which caused him to fall for her like a devoted puppy). yet it seems like she either didn’t grasp fully their character motivations/personality/how their character is moulded by their backgrounds? which is why she probably didn’t see how the inherent difference with which her mother treats qianqian vs chuchu would lead to jealousy and resentment seeping in and poisoning chuchu’s heart. and her visualising han shuo as a murderous calculating career-driven male lead aka the male lead of eastern palace clearly runs contrary to how he is total putty and has barely hurt a fly ever since he fell in love with qianqian.

and there are characters too like her mother that she originally clearly just wrote in as characters to steer the plot forward, and in-world, she is clearly stricken when she realises how they have emotions and hidden depths beyond what she fathomed - like when her and her mother had that semi HTHT after she stole the dragon bone and her mum stayed by her bedchamber to watch over her all night. and another example would be su ziying - she’s so happy to see him when he appears as in that moment she’s viewing him from the lens of the scriptwriter of this story and she knows he’s going to push the plot forward. but seeing him and his actions actually playing out - she gets irritated by what he does and also his actions actually do end up affecting her, because she is in the story too!!!

and moving on from that, as the plot further progresses, another spanner is thrown into the mix when she realises that male lead is really really in love with her! and would give up everything for her! and... she too is in love with him!! and this changes things too because while initially all her actions were to push the plot to move forward the way she originally wrote it so that she can head back, now she’s actively trying to push back against the flow of events, as she’s now emotionally invested in this and doesn’t want the male lead to die as per her original script.

the play out of all these was really really entertaining and gripping to watch?? i was legitimately bowled over by how affected i was when all the angst came in, because it really felt like it made sense amidst all the crack and was well set up? and throughout it all, the actions of all the main players in the plot made sense and were logical, even the secondary leads chuchu and peiheng. haha idek if i’m ascribing too much credit to this whole plot, maybe it’s really just meant to be a cracky fun time and i’m too into it HAHA.

there’s also the set up of huayuan city being a matriarchal society where basically the roles of women and men are reversed. it is really v trippy!!! and An Experience to see scenes like men being harrassed by women, people tittering at other men for not being covered up enough in public, wares that can increase your chances of birthing a female heir being peddled on the streets. initially i was kind of apprehensive as to how it was going to play out. now at ep 22 where they’ve gone to xuanhu city which is patriarchal the conversation regarding gender roles and gender equality is continuing!! but i shall reserve my thoughts and comments till the entire arc plays out.

but beyond all that, the drama is just so much fun fun funnnnn!!!! i loveddddd seeing how this drama about a scriptwriter getting stuck in her own script had scenes interspersed with storytellers on the street retelling qianqian’s exploits and qianqian’s regular meetups with the storytellers/opera writers to discuss how the plot of the drama was going or even the scene where hanshuo and peiheng went to the opera house for their male lead showdown and the opera characters were there saying all the rude things they wanted to say to each other. such fun meta?? breaking the fourth wall?? satire?? idek LOL i just know i enjoyed it thoroughly

and lastly, apart from all the thinky thinky stuff, i’m thoroughly charmed by the otp HAHA. i loveeeee qianqian so much and zhao lusi is soo effortlessly adorable and natural and charming in this role that i can totally see why everyone from han shuo to her mother is enamoured by her. i actually am really curious also to see how qianqian before xiaoqian transmigrated into her body was like - seeing how her servant didn’t seem to have any whiplash from an extreme change in personality suggest that maybe qianqian wasn’t all that different from xiaoqian?? and probably might not have been that spoilt/callous/havoc-wreaking as everyone perceives her to be?

and han shuo too is SO entertaining and funny and darling - when he first came to huayuan city he’s all “i’m cunning and smart and i’m going to MANIPULATE EVERYBODY for my/xuan hu city’s benefit” and “i want chen qianqian to die with ten thousand arrows through her heart!! i want her to be stabbed by knives three thousand times!! not a single time less!!!” and “do you think i don’t dare to kill you?!”. then he falls in love with her and instantly he’s all puppy eyes and utter devotion. IT’S DELICIOUS. ding yuxi really makes staring at your FL like she’s the only one in the world an art form. and as one comment on a bilibili mv said regarding han shuo’s supposed bloodlust, “han shuo, up to this point you’ve only killed one horse” HAHA

(keep in mind that it’s not even that han shuo ordered the killing of this horse, it was his subordinate that killed it on his behalf, and han shuo was Not Happy about it after that!)

together the otp are even more adorable!!! it’s teeth rotting fluff but yet it comes off very earnest and adorable without being cloying. i was literally clutching my heart and grinning at the screen dopily at some scenes. and even though the otp dynamic and character setups are not really the same, the way the two of them bicker and act like children around each other kind of remind me of yongqi and xiaoyanzi from hzgg for some reason lol.

and apart from the otp, there are a whole host of supporting characters that are really very funny and adorable and entertaining to watch haha. special shoutout to both han shuo and qianqian’s subordinates who are HILARIOUS and plain Done with their masters’ nonsense (especially bai ji who really just wants to get shit done okay!! but his master just keeps on wanting to fall in love and date!!) there’s also qianqian’s older sister yuanyuan who is disabled and on a wheelchair, and with a sad yet somehow hilarious penchant for writing multiple drafts of her will. and her otp, su mu, a courtesan (yes the courtesans in this city are all male).

honestly i’m not sure where i’m going with this, i just briefly scanned through what i’ve written so far and lol seems like paragraphs of illogical incoherent rambling. I’m sorry it’s 5am over here i’m not really thinking straight T_T i just have a lot of feels for this drama okay ;_____;

[icollectyoursins]

Ive got a humble little request for some Speedwagon appreciation? 👉👈🥺 I love him so much but nobody gives him the love he deserves. What about one where reader (f) has a GIANT crush on him, like, full on giddy schoolgirl puppy love. 🥰 And since its, well, Victorian era, she's never really had a "crush" on guys before, so she thinks she's really good at keeping it hidden but she's NOT lmao. Like always looking for excuses to sit next to/compliment/hug him and is super obvious and cute? 🥺🥰

Oh yeah, we stan Speedwagon in this good Christian house. He is best boy. 100/10. He 100% needs more appreciation. 

Just for context, this takes place in the time before he goes to help Jonathan in part 1 (Phantom Blood). He’s met Jonathan, but not gone there just yet. It’s implied at the end that he leaves to help him at the end of this.

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: slight violence (not a lot maybe like 2 paragraphs), wholesome Speedwagon content.

Word Count: 929

     There was something about Robert E. O. Speedwagon that you just couldn’t resist. It was something about his smile and the kindness in his eyes that had you head over heels. It was an odd feeling for you, men and boys never really interested you when you were younger, liking a good book or a soothing walk more. And then there he was. 

     You were cleaning up your family’s shop when he walked in, all smiles and laughs. He started asking you about the little charms your family made, making general conversation, then he left with a few things. You thought nothing of it, until he kept coming back. Slowly, but surely, you started to develop what your friends would call a crush on this man that, at this point, you didn’t know the name of.

     You’d see him on the street, this kind mystery man, he’d smile widely at you, occasionally giving you a kiss on the hand if he was feeling more gentlemanly. Every time, you’d blush like a fool, giggling like a school girl. He made you feel something, like butterflies in your stomach, making your heart skip a beat.

     One fateful day, he came in the store, looking for something for his friend. You were feeling rather brave that day and, as you were showing him around for the umpteenth time, you asked him what his name was.

     “Oh! My name is Robert. Robert E. O. Speedwagon,” he funnily exaggerated the last name, making you giggle more than you probably should have. He told you that it was a mouthful to say, so you can just call him Speedwagon. You smiled. Speedwagon. Stupidly, you thought of what your name would be like if you had his last name. (Y/N) Speedwagon. It sounded nice.

     The rest was history. Occasionally, you’d ask him if he wanted to go on a walk, but then he’d start coming by every day for a daily walk. He’d walk you home after you finished cleaning the store, which made your heart flutter. Soon, you were looking for every excuse to be with him, to hear him talk, and laugh. Reminding him every chance you got that he was amazing, complimenting his hat or his coat.

     He would always laugh, tell you thanks and then compliment something on you or say that “you’re too kind, (Y/N),” or “how do you have the capacity to say such things to someone like me?” You’d always blush like a fool and tell him that you just like making people happy. Which, wasn’t wrong, but more specifically, you want to make him feel happy.You didn’t know a lot about him, but there was something about him that made you feel like he needed a reminder every now and then.

     Your parents would give you a knowing look when he’d come over to the house. You were always confused when they did so. Were you too obvious? Oh, no. What if he knew? Was he being nice so you wouldn’t get hurt? 

     The thought made you love him more, in a self-pitying way. He was so kind, even if he wasn’t interested in you, he’d still laugh with you, make you smile. Whoever his wife was or would be, you envied them. You knew that no matter who he was with, he would make them feel more loved than ever before. You wanted that. A lot. 

     Speedwagon was walking you home one day, when some rude assholes decided to try and steal your bag. Two large men with knives in their hands and alcohol on their breath cornered you, threatening you with the edge of the knives. He was quick to punch them, fending them off while you ran away down the street. You found yourself in an alley way, panting, clutching your bag close to you. Did he really do that? Did he just risk himself so you could get away? 

     The sound of footsteps running got closer and closer to you. Panic began to set in. What if he didn’t get away. Tears started rolling down your cheeks as you began to imagine the blood pooling on the cobblestone, washing down the drain in the rain. 

     You held your breath as whoever was running came around the corner.

     “(Y/N)!” It was Speedwagon, thank god. “(Y/N), are you okay? They didn’t hurt you, did they?” You shook your head no, you were fine thanks to him. He smiled thankfully, pulling you into a giant hug. 

     You were shocked, but didn’t push him away. It was greedy of you, really, to want to take him away from everyone else, but feeling his arms around you, holding you closer than anyone ever had. You never wanted this to end. Your arms snaked around him, pulling yourself into him.

     He stayed there for as long as you wanted. You needed this. So bad. 

     “Thank you,” you said weekly. He pulled you back slowly, brushing your tears away gently with his thumbs. He smiles at you, filling you with warmth, making you do the same. 

     “Hold on to my arm, I’ll keep you safe the rest of the way home, that’s a promise,” Speedwagon offered you his arm and you clung to it, thankful for the stability next to you.

     Finally at home, he walked you up the steps, then stopped. “(Y/N),” he said, holding your hand in his. He was visibly struggling to find the words to say. But, he smiled, then just pulled you towards him, kissing your cheek gently, catching you off guard. “Stay safe for me.”

[eatsleepandsupernatural]

Saved - Chapter Eight

Saved Masterlist

Pairings: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Warnings: Character Death, Angst, Character Resurrection, excerpts from 14x08

Word Count: 2,243

A/N: Hey! The following chapter does contain some aspects of the Supernatural episode Byzantium. I would like to just state that I do not own those particular paragraphs of this chapter or of course the characters (but we already knew that). You probably didn’t expect the chapter to go this way, it was my plan from the beginning because of an idea I had, can’t tell you yet. Anyway, hope you don’t mind and I hope you enjoy! XX

Tags: @akshi8278​ @goddessofmischiefs​ @flutistbyday2020​ @samsgirl93​

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 8 

   Tossing and turning, surrounding yourself with your Alphas scent, no matter how hard you tried, you can’t sleep. Your thoughts are on Jack, the image of him collapsing on the floor, coughing up blood, is replaying over and over in your mind. He had quickly become your closest friend, keeping you company while Sam and Dean went on hunts. You had made a habit of sneaking into the ‘Dean Cave’, cooking up some popcorn and watching movies for hours at a time. The way Jack’s eyes fixed on the T.V like an excited puppy always made you smile. You had barely known him, but the memory of him passing away, his hand grasped firmly in yours, was overwhelming. 

   You shove the covers off and leave your room in search of Dean and some comfort. You had gone to bed once he and Cas brought Sam back safely after he had left the bunker, feeling the need for some alone time. Hours have passed and your need for your Alpha grew stronger every second. 

   You find him passed out in the kitchen, surrounded by empty glasses and half drunk bottles of whiskey, snoring louder than you had ever heard. 

   ‘Dean...Dean, you shouldn’t sleep here.’ You speak softly into his ear and gently shake his shoulder in an effort to wake him up. ‘Dean.’ 

   ‘I don’t think he’s waking up anytime soon, Y/N.’ You turn around to face Cas, who is watching you from the doorway. ‘Why are you awake?’ 

   ‘I never went to sleep, couldn't.’ You admit quietly, knowing what was going to come next, silently wishing it was Sam who had found you. 

   Cas glances between you and Dean before sighing and holding out his hand, ‘It would be unfair to wake him now. Come on, I’ll get you settled.’ 

   You place your hand in his and let him lead you back to your room, but you don’t make it easy for him, dragging your feet along the way. There is no hiding the fact that you are frustrated with him, with everyone. Jack is dead and they are still hiding things. You want to know why Jack was sick in the first place, and for how long. You want to know why, whenever you ask about anything supernatural related you are ignored. 

   ‘Y/N, what are you doing? Aren’t you tired?’ Cas asks when you pull your hand from his and take a few steps back to put some space between you. 

   ‘I am tired. I am tired of being kept in the dark. Did you ever think that maybe I would have been able to help Jack if I had known what was going on? He was my friend, and I lost him, and I don’t even know why. All you guys do is keep me in the dark for ‘my protection’, but one day, that’s going to come back and bite you in the arse. I may have been afraid of the idea of monsters being real when I first moved in, but I’ve seen Sam and Dean come back from enough hunts to accept that truth now. I’m ready to fight, to help. Dean, he is never going to let me near a gun. I need you to let me help, teach me to fight Cas, please.’ 

   Cas stares at you, surprised by your outburst. He frowns for a moment, deep in thought, before approaching you slowly. ‘I’m sorry you feel that way. I will talk to Dean.’ 

   You roll your eyes at his response and slouch your shoulders. ‘Like that will do...Hey!’ 

   Cas cuts you off mid sentence, grabbing you around the waist and placing two fingers to your forehead. ‘Go to sleep Y/N’

   ‘Y/N, wake up,’

   ‘Omega.’ A firm hand on your shoulder and the smooth voice of your Alpha draws you from a peaceful, deep sleep. Your eyes meet Deans tired ones, the bags sitting below them prominent. 

   ‘Morning’. You sit up against the bed head, accepting the glass of water Dean offers you. 

   ‘Afternoon, actually.’ 

   ‘Stupid Angel.’ You grunt, making Dean chuckle softly. 

   ‘I had an interesting conversation with Cas this morning.’ He informs you, turning serious once again. ‘He told me you had trouble sleeping, went for a late night stroll.’ 

   ‘Didn’t realise that was something I wasn’t allowed to do.’ You shoot back. You aren’t sure where the attitude is coming from, but you are sick of Dean’s Alpha behaviour. 

   ‘I didn’t say that.’ He speaks quickly, eyes scanning your face in an attempt to read your thoughts. ‘But he told me what you spoke about, and I’m sorry. Truly. My intentions were always to keep you safe, and in doing so, I’ve pushed you away. And you’re right, chances of you holding a gun in this lifetime, or any other lifetime are pretty small. But you’re also right, that I have been letting the Alpha in me control my actions, and I have been unfair to you. If you believe that you are ready, you can be put on research duty. That means books only, no knives, no guns, no ghosts. We got a deal?’ 

   You stare at your Alpha with wide eyes, shocked and disbelieving. Dean stands up from the bed and smiles down at you, ‘You coming? You might want to get dressed. We have a guest.’ 

   You take a few minutes to compose yourself, washing your face and brushing your teeth in the basin, before getting dressed and leaving your room in search of the others. 

   The library is not how you left it last night, furniture has been moved to the side, and Sam and Dean stand next to a table in the middle of what looks to be a very intense discussion making you pause at the door and hide behind the wall, you decide waiting out the conversation is the best idea. 

   ‘Use the soul-sucking magic? Boy, that lady’s a peach.’ Dean’s tone of voice surprises you, and you realise this was one of the things he was trying to hide from you, his hunter side.

   ‘Listen, we talked about this.’ Sam interjects.

   ‘I know. Gotta happen. It’s the only way. Right. But I don’t like rolling the dice on some psycho ex-angel killer.’

   ‘I don’t love it, either, but taking risks, making crappy deals--that’s what we do.’

   ‘Yeah, and they usually bite us in the arse.’ You smile at Dean’s choice of words, remembering what you had said to Cas last night.

   ‘So, what do you want to do about it? Leave Jack in the morgue? Burn him?’ That’s the moment you realise that they were planning to do something about Jack, to try and bring him back. You had heard snippets of conversations before, you knew that both Sam and Dean had died at least once. 

   ‘I didn’t say that.’

   ‘Because, for me, not doing this--that-- that would be like letting him die all over again.’ At Sam’s words your heart almost breaks all over again and you struggle to hold back tears. 

   ‘I want Jack back, too okay? I do. I just don’t trust Lily. Especially with my little eavesdropper.’ 

   If you hadn’t had that conversation with Dean ten minutes ago, your heart would have dropped to your stomach. You straighten your back and peek around the doorway with a small smile on your face. ‘I didn’t want to interrupt.’ 

   Dean rolls his eyes but waves you over, and you reach him the same time Cas comes up the steps looking more than stressed. 

   ‘You got a twenty on Jack?’ Dean asks, eyes pleading for a yes.

   ‘Not exactly. Angel Radio is playing a distress signal.’ 

   ‘Awesome’, He replies, letting his arms fall, surely mirroring his disappointment. 

   ‘All of Heaven’s gates are open, even the ones that Metatron closed.’

   ‘What could that mean?’ Sam asks.

   ‘I don’t know but it’s not good.’

   ‘More awesome.’ Dean says, making you reach out and grab his hand giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

   ‘All right, well you go. We got Lily. When we’re ready, we’ll pray.’ Sam says, hoping that the solution will be enough.

   Cas shares a look with Sam and Dean before walking away and to do whatever he had to do. 

   ‘What’s going on?’ You ask, turning back to face the two Alphas.

   ‘We may have a way to bring Jack back. It’s risky, but we figured it’s worth a shot. You can hang around for now, but if I need you to leave later, you have to trust me. We’ve never done this before Y/N.’ 

   You are tempted to argue but something in Sam’s eyes makes you change your mind. He is watching you carefully, eyes wide, pleading with you to reassure Dean that you’ll listen. 

   ‘Got it, just tell me to go make myself some lunch, and I’m gone.’ As soon as you see Dean’s entire body relax you know you have made the right decision and Sam shoots you the biggest smile, to which you respond with an eye roll. It’s as if they don’t believe you can behave. 

   ‘Alright, hand me that glass bottle would ya?’ Dean gestures behind you as he moves to fiddle with some paint and a bowl on the table. 

   You pick it up, inspecting the clear liquid inside before handing it over and you and Sam watch as he pours the liquid in and stirs the paint around. He picks up the bowl and holds out a piece of paper for him to copy from and you watch in awe as Dean expertly paints a large symbol on the wooden floor. 

   ‘The instruction manual’. You had been watching Dean so closely you hadn’t heard the footsteps of another person approach the three of you and you jump away in shock as she hands an old leather-bound book to Sam. 

   ‘It’s alright Y/N,’ Sam reassures you before turning to face the older woman who you assume must be Lily gives you a questioning look before turning back to Sam. ‘Thanks. All right, we’re almost set. Just got to get one more thing. I’m gonna go grab it.’ He says, he gives you a second reassuring smile before walking off. You watch him go, as he does, he grabs Dean’s attention and nods in the direction of you and the strange woman. 

   Dean puts the bowl and brush down on the ground as he stands up and walks towards you, watching where he steps. He gives you a quick smile before addressing Lily.

   ‘You know, I think we got off to a bad start. Um, I guess I should be thanking you.’

   ‘Apology accepted.’ You frown at Lily’s response and her attitude towards your Alpha, but you stay quiet, unwilling to test any boundaries on the first day. ‘Are you going to introduce me?’ 

   ‘Uh, right. This is Y/N, my mate. Y/N, this is Lily Sunder, an old...acquaintance.’

   ‘Nice to meet you.’ You nod from your corner with a small smile, not a fan of strangers. Lily was a beta, but she gives off a weird vibe that makes you uncomfortable. 

   ‘There, you’re acquainted, great. Except, something’s been bothering me. Uh, you know, if this magic of yours is so great...why’d you stop using it? You’re letting yourself get old. You’re letting yourself die. Why? Why risk going to hell if you don’t have to? There’s something you’re not telling us.’

   You raise your eyebrows at Dean’s words and look to Lily, waiting for her answer. Is this magic too risky to use on Jack? 

   ‘When Ishim took my daughter, I swore I’d kill him, even if it meant burning my entire soul. But it didn’t. I have a sliver, a whisper of my soul left.’

   ‘And?’ Dean prompts, getting impatient.

   ‘May--my daughter, my little girl--is in heaven. And if there is still a piece of my soul...Now do you understand?’ 

   You are deep in thought when Sam comes back carrying a box filled to the brim with candles. You watch as he places them down at different points on the symbol like he had done it hundreds of times before. 

   ‘Sweetheart.’ Your head whips up at the sound of Dean calling from the other side of the room, breaking you from your thoughts. ‘Why don’t you go make yourself that lunch we talked about.’ You glance back over to Sam who’s already looking at you, one eyebrow raised, a reminder of your promise. 

   ‘I was getting hungry anyway. You know where I’ll be if you need me.’ Sending your Alpha one last long look before making your way to the kitchen. 

   You take your time, deciding to make a pasta salad, one of your favourite home-made dishes from before your parents became alcoholics. 

   Twenty minutes later, one potato salad and a cup of tea, your curiosity gets the better of you. You quietly make your way down the hallway and poke your head around the corner to see Jack sitting up on the table saying words you don’t understand, Sam and Dean standing either side of him. 

   ‘Was that my soul?’ He asks, looking up at Dean.

   ‘How do you feel?’ Dean queries, his hands hovering over Jack as if he is expecting something to go wrong. 

   ‘Good. I feel...good.’

   Sam smiles as Dean gives Jack a quick hug.

   ‘It’s good to have you back’, he says with his hand resting on Jack’s shoulder. 

   You are about to join them when you notice Lily sitting in your favourite chair, umoving.

   ‘Lily, thank you,’ Dean speaks from beside Jack. 

   ‘Yeah. Lily..’ Sam’ voice is halted when he sees Lily. 

   ‘Lily?’ Dean calls once more but there is no response. 

   ‘How about Jack and I go back to his room, I can help him get settled?’ You ask tentatively from the door. 

   The Alpha’s turn to face you faster than you thought possible. ‘How long have you been standing there?’ Sam asks, his lips twitching as he tries to hold back a smile. 

   ‘Long enough. I got bored.’ You smile at Jack who slowly turns around to meet gaze.

   Dean rolls his eyes at your excuse for leaving the kitchen but keeps his opinions to himself all the same. ‘You wanna hang out with Y/N for a bit Jack? We’ve got some clean-up to do.’

   Jack nodded, ‘I like the sound of that,’ he says getting off the table and making his way over to you on wobbly legs. 

   ‘I’ve changed my mind, why don’t we break into Dean’s room instead.’ You suggest, wagging your eyebrows at him in excitement.

   ‘Can we watch Star Wars? I like that one.’

   ‘Jack, we can watch anything you want.’

[archieve-yura-blog]

ONCE UPON A TIME

flashback, when @pd-yura & @pd-dongmin were only fifteen.

              •| ⊱ ✿ Once upon a time I was falling in love... 

                 Um tempo afastada da Red Light, era algo que Yura precisava. Estava agora vivendo com a tia mais uma vez, em Busan, precisando de um tempo para espairecer, se desintoxicar. Tinha apenas quinze anos, e céus, ela estava amando. Encontrava-se nervosa, ao que encarava o reflexo no espelho. A blusa azul-bebê, junto a saia branca, a qual vestira um short por baixo. A faixa que puxava seus fios castanhos para trás, e estes caíam por seus ombros. Não passara maquiagem, ele gostaria? Sentia-se uma tola, mas não sabia como deixar de lado aquele sentimento. A Yura de quatro anos atrás não era capaz de ser daquela forma novamente, nunca mais, contudo... talvez ainda houvesse alguma chama de esperança na garota na época, esperança de que... não acabaria sozinha no final. Dongmin havia sido o primeiro que se aproximara desde a morte de seus avós e sua mãe, e era um tanto confuso ainda para si.

                ❛ ——— tia! eu irei sair com dongmin agora, está bem? —— avisou-lhe, com a voz doce, um sorriso tímido, podia sentir o rosto a corar, e não ficou muito tempo para ouvir os comentários da mulher, além de a mesma dizendo para que convidasse o rapaz para jantar com elas. Na saída, trocou os chinelos pela sapatilha branca, calçando-as rapidamente. Imaginava que o namorado não demoraria a chegar, contudo, sua ansiedade não lhe permitia ficar dentro da casa, sentada, esperando pacientemente. Sentiria-se sufocada, esta era a verdade. Yura estava feliz, a animação também a deixava inquieta, ao que saiu da casa, parando diante o jardim, ao aguardo dele. 

                   Aquele que ela pensou ser seu príncipe encantado. ⊰ |• 

[tsukishumai]

I don't think it's narcissistic to like your own works because they're tailor made to your preferences. At least, that's why I like rereading my works. But... it also depends because some days I don't want to look at them at all. lol!

But seriously! I'll Find You was so good!!! Like the first paragraph grabbed my attention when I saw it on my dash and I just had to keep reading it!

"Each jagged breath that entered your lungs had stabbed at your chest like a thousand knives, and your steps echoed off the empty palace walls in tune with the thunderous beating of your heart."

Like what?? That was so good!! I feel like it would take me so much effort to write something like that! And then having to keep reading just to piece together what the heck was happening??? Can you tell that I liked it? lollll

UHM DID YOU JUST QUOTE MY OWN WORDS BACK TO ME? DO YOU WANT ME TO MARRY YOU???

Pleeaaseeee Mimi you’re giving me a big head don’t do this 😭😭 but literally I’ll Find You was such a random stroke of inspiration for me IT MAKES ME SO SO HAPPY THAT YOU LIKE IT THAT MUCH??? IM REALLY TOUCHED IMA CRY