#although i have to admit that the shape of water looks promising; i always love sally hawkins

[kendrene]

Ava rubs sweat out of her eyes with the heel of a hand.

The weather forecast had projected a lovely 25 degrees celsius for the day, but they’ve been walking for what feels like hours, and the breeze from the lake doesn’t reach this deep in the woods. It’s stifling among the trees, and still, and hot as Adriel’s armpit. Ew.

“Where is it that we’re going again?”

“You’ll see.”

Beatrice lobs the reply over one shoulder without breaking step. She’s still somehow keeping to the same ground-eating pace she’d set for them earlier that morning, unfazed by the heat and the gradient of the trail, looking like she could walk on till dusk. Ava wouldn’t put it past her.

“Please…” Her calves are burning, and the muscles in her thighs scream with every step. “Can we not… stop… for a minute?” Forever?

“It’s close by.” Beatrice turns to face her, but continues walking, so that now she’s walking backwards up a forested hill while Ava feels like dying. “I promise.”

“I don’t know if I believe you.” Ava pants, scrambling after her. “You said it wasn’t far at the trailhead, and we’ve been climbing for years.”

“Actually we’ve been on the trail for—” Beatrice tilts her head back, peering at a gap between secular firs and the smear of clear sky there. “— two and a half hours.”

“How do you—” A sudden wind picks up, shaking through the trees, and Ava is blinded by a spear of sunlight. The sun’s position. Of fucking course.

“Do you guys have nun scouts in the OCS or something? Where did you learn that sort of thing?”

“No. And the Girl Scouts. I was… My parents made me join as soon as it was feasible. The names change, but Girl Scouts operate everywhere. They thought it would be an easy way for me to make friends.”

“Made you?” Ava frowns. “That doesn’t sound like fun.”

“It was one of the few things that I liked growing up, actually. It gave me a sense of structure. Direction. Of… family, I guess.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A strange sort of silence falls between them, awkward and quiet and sad. Ava kicks at a loose rock, sends it tumbling into some bushes, and thinks really hard on the best way to break it.

“Hey, Bea?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we there yet?”

Beatrice groans.

*** Their destination, once they get to it, is very disappointing.

“This is it?” Ava meanders to the center of the clearing, gestures. “I expected, I don’t know, something.”

“Like what?”

Bea sets her rucksack on the ground, and starts pulling out equipment.

“I don’t know! An alpine peak? A waterfall? Treasure?”

“Well, we got knives, protein bars and a water bottle. Sorry but—” Bea upends the rucksack, now empty, and shakes it. “No treasure.”

“We got— Wait, are we going to train?”

“Yes.”

“You made me walk two hours out of town to train.”

“Also yes.”

“But we could have done that by the lake!”

Beatrice shakes her head.

“No. Not for what I have in mind today. Having you run on water is a risk we had to take, but this? We can’t chance some tourist walking by.”

Okay. Bea’s making it sound cool. Ava admits she’s intrigued.

“Alrighty then. What are you doing?”

“Well, we know you can phase through stationary objects. I want you to try and see whether you can focus enough to replicate that through a moving one.” Something catches the light in Bea’s hands and when Ava looks down she’s holding a knife.

“Uhm. You want me to try and phase through one of your knives? Edgy.”

“Ah ah.” A flick of the wrist and the knife vanishes behind Bea’s back. Ava claps. She can’t help herself; it always looks like magic. “No, we’re not using live weapons.”

“Then what?” There’s rocks on the ground Beatrice could throw, although between being hit by a rock and stabbed by a knife, Ava’s not sure what she’d pick.

“We’re gonna use these.” Bea holds up what look like several colored sticks, roughly shaped like actual throwing knives. “They’re rubber, so even if they hit you it shouldn’t hurt too much.”

Shouldn’t? Too much?

“Gee, thanks.”

“Come on,” Bea moves to face her. “If you make it by the end of the day, we can have ice cream for dinner.”

“I’ll eat my way through your tips.” Ava grins, the ache of the hike forgotten at the prospect. “I’m so gonna get it first try. Just watch.”

*** She doesn’t get it first try.

Or second.

Or tenth.

“I think we should call it a day.” Beatrice says, after the piece of neon pink rubber has bounced off of Ava’s chest again. The sun is well past its zenith, and the sky has acquired the burnished hue of afternoon. “We can try again later this week.” Ava pouts. “I’ll still get you ice cream, if you’d like.”

“Really?” Ava grabs the water bottle Bea is holding out to her, and drains about half of it in one gulp. “Even if this was a complete failure?”

“It wasn’t. You did dodge a few of the knives.”

True.

They gather up their stuff quickly, shadows stretching blue across the grass, and Ava is scanning the ground for any stray projectiles when Bea calls out.

“Ava!” She yells from the edge of the clearing. “Look sharp.”

Something suspiciously bright flies towards her, hits her squarely on the nose. Hard.

“Ow!”

“Oh God, oh no.” Bea is by her side in a flash, an arm around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, I thought if I tried catching you by surprise maybe the Halo…”

“My nose.” Ava has both hands cupped around it, and it’s throbbing something fierce. “I think it’s broken.”

“Let me see.” Bea grabs her chin, ever so gently, and with her free hand pulls hers away. “Yeah,” she admits, brows knitting in worry. “It looks broken.” As though to confirm the prognosis, the Halo burns in Ava’s back, sharp and blistering. In the middle of her face, a bone reknits itself, cartilage snaps into place. Ava winces.

“I’m so so sorry.” Bea has let her go, and is pawing through the rucksack for something to clean her face with. “We’re never doing this again. I should have known, it was such a stupid idea. I don’t know why I thought—” She stammers on, so fast that the words pile on top of one another, and Ava has a hard time keeping up.

Ava’s hand bears down on both of Beatrice’s, stilling them. She grins at her through the blood.

“It’s okay.” She scrunches her nose, experimentally. “I’m okay, see? No harm done.”

“But—”

“No buts. It wasn’t a stupid idea. We will take another stab at it, just like you said.”

“Ava.” Beatrice says her name pointedly, voice stuck between fond and exasperated.

“What? That was a really good pun. My sense of humor—”

“—is a cut below the rest.”

“Ouch.” Ava presses a hand to her heart, faux dramatic. “That hurts more than the broken nose.”

“Doubt it.”

Neither of them can stop smiling on the way home.

[n1k1tty]

kiss me ! part 1

jake was definitely head over heals for your cold personality, and he wasn't going to let anyone take you. but heres the problem: he couldn't find a single way to keep a conversation with you. despite your scary demeanour, jake decides to man up and does everything out of his will to get you.

fluff, jake x reader, (not proofread)

jake was frustrated to know that many guys have been after you the second you stepped in that classroom doing the bare minimum.

hearing ‘wanna grab lunch with me?’ here and there somehow always made him ball his fist to prevent himself from being a problem. yet again he couldn’t blame other people for wanting to ask you out either. he even sometimes wished that you had rejected him so he could move on. although of course he didn’t really mean that.

because now he was wandering around the school looking for you while he was on a “bathroom break” during his soccer practice. he knew you always liked to stay at the school rooftops admiring the view while listening to music. not like he was stalking you or anything...

you turn your head to look at the person at the door "you again? when are you going to leave me alone? pervert" you scoff, kicking the little pieces of rocks as you avoid jakes eyes. it was almost the millionth time you've seen jake this day, and it was always for the same reason, to piss you off, well more like ask you out --which still pisses you off.

you weren't one to believe in love, or maybe just not yet. because you weren't even sure if you were capable enough to love someone. even the thought of having to be so sweet and touchy with each other grossed you out, and of all people, jake especially knew that. so why was he so determined to get you to fall in love with him?

you weren't one to believe in love, or maybe just not yet. because you weren't even sure if you were capable enough to love someone. even the thought of having to be so sweet and touchy with each other grossed you out, and of all people, jake especially knew that. so why was he so determined to get you to fall in love with him?

"hmmm maybe never?" jake chuckles at the sight of you rolling your eyes "then i'll move schools --countries if that's what takes for you to leave me alone" as you turn around and face him, eyes widened at the thin space between the both of you "and maybe i'll find you"

you raise your eyebrows "well that's borderline criminal act" you wander off "now sim jaeyun i think it's best for you to leave before you add up to my anger --i mean you already are. but wouldn't that be horrible?" jake's eyes follow you as you drag your feet "not really" he states "you're hot when you're mad"

you scoff out of disbelief, hitting him hard on his arm, looking away almost immediately as you trying to hide your heated face "shut up before i'll push you off this building" letting go of the grip you once had on his collar, "alright, alright sorry ma'am. but if you're really mad for whatever reason, come with me. i'll take you to a place" he suggests, offering his hand for you to take "you should be happy. i normally wouldn't even consider letting anyone know about my spot" he shoots you a grin

you take time trying to consider his offer, but as much as you don't want to stroke his ego about convincing you to go with him, you really needed something to release your anger "as long as you shut up about this" you give him a side glance "no promises" he sends a wink your way "ugh, fine"

he gently takes your hand as he drags you out of the school "can you jump over the wall?" jake looks at your flustered face "....no..?" you answer, making a line with your lips, causing him to let out a small chuckle "okay cutie, i'll help you up" you cringe at the nickname "call me that again and i'll break your neck" you step on his knee as he tries to boost you up "yeah that's right, keep going"

but as jake looks up he couldn't help but feel flustered, looking away "i made it!" you pant, hands resting on your knees as you wait for jake to come up as well. but after a few seconds of not hearing him, you call out his name, peaking your head over the wall "jake? i swear to god if you leave me out here i'm killing you"

"n-no i didn't leave you" he stutters, trying to collect himself from being a flustered mess "then come up here! the sun is setting, you wouldn't want to miss it"

"y-yeah it's just that i uh, i saw.....your....you know?" he explains, his hands not knowing what to do "you saw my what!?" you shrieked "no no it's okay i looked away!" he reassures you "ugh, just- just come up here!" you yell, already walking ahead as you try to cool down your heating face "so pink aye?" jake jokes, catching up to you

"SIM JAEYUN!" you yell, kicking him on his ass "ow! okay sorry!"

jake was resting his head on his hands, watching as you play with the small puddle while watching the sunset, not even an hour in, jake panics as he sees the amount of missed calls from riki "oh shit! my soccer practice!"

--

the following days after that, almost everything remained the same, jake continuously teasing and flirting with you, you getting in trouble for the littlest things, never coming home until the latest of the hour. but yet again, almost everything remained the same

you were now in denial of your feelings towards sim jaeyun. it would hurt too much of your pride to actually admit it, because after all, you've always told sim jaeyun you hated him.

you groan "jake, there's a reason why i'm failing english, okay? just accept the fact that i'm the worst" you bury your head on the pages of your book, seated across jake at the back of the library "i didn't even ask for you to help me! i simply just asked for your notes that just happened to have a first grader's hand writing" he scoffs, a little taken back by your sudden insult on his hand writing "thanks? i know you didn't ask for help, i just wanted to do this with you so that you don't get detention for not knowing proper english" he explains, handing you another sheet of paper with an 54 circled on the right corner "seriously y/n? 54? come on, one last set of questions and i'll take you to the new cafe just across the street"

and almost immediately, you bring your head up, grabbing the pen and taking the set of questions. making jake giggle "y/n, just say that you like me, you know i'm not going to reject you-- ow!" you smack him on the head with the pencil "that's absolute nonsense!" you whisper with a harsh voice, digging your face on the note book as you try to cover the little smile you had on your face

i think it was safe to say you got 4 out of 10 right, causing you to almost have a mental breakdown at the library "i can't do this sim" you groan "i think you just need a break yeah? wanna head to the cafe?" jake stands up to pack your stuff, giggling at the sight of your head still buried in between the pages of the book "c'mon y/n" he kneels beside you "get up, let's go to that cafe"

you've never felt your pride hurt as much as this did, having to show jake how bad your were at english, him having to tutor you without you asking for help, and jake bringing you to the cafe even though you weren't even remotely close to getting at least 6 right

and you weren't exaggerating when when you say jake had to drag you all the way to the cafe "hi! what can i get for you today sir?" the girl says, the obvious heart eyes she has for him pissing you off even more "hi yeah i'd like to have a caramel machiatto" he responds politely, smiling at the obvious glare you held at the girl, poking out your tongue after she was called by the manager, an old lady replaces her "anything else for your girlfriend--" before you could correct her, jake immediately speaks up "she'll have (drink)"

he smiles at the old lady before paying "i'm sending you money later whether you like it or not" you roll your eyes "and i'll send it back" he holds your waist as he leads you to a table, causing your heart to beat 10 times faster "yeah? well i'll send it back to you again! i'll keep doing it until you die!" he scoffs at you "as if!"

--

even after multiple attempts of trying to make jake ask you out, the boy who you thought was so smart couldn't take a single hint at all.

but in jake's defence, you were a little bad, considering how bad you were with boys, he vividly remembers that one time when you were trying so hard to make him jealous by talking to other guys. he even laughed as you struggled to keep up with a conversation.

or that other time when you tried to hold his hand just to do something romantic just for once but ended up letting go because he wouldn't stop teasing you about it. he still took your hand, yet he never asked you out still.

"you okay darling?" your mother asks, taking a quick glance at your droopy form leaning on the counter as you wait for her to finish cooking "is it a boy?" she teases, making you perk your head up "i knew it!" she gives you an endearing smile as she gives you a plate with eggs on it, a heart shaped ketchup placed on the top of the egg "mom!" you whine

"okay fine, it is a boy. but don't tell dad" you whisper, smiling once she zips her lips "what's his name?" she asked, tilting her head as she leans on the counter in front of you "jake"

"jake?! i love jake! you should invite him over sometime" she squeals "he's a nice guy, i'm sure he wouldn't hurt you, so what's bothering you?" you sigh, taking a sip of the water "he likes me, it's like the whole world knows. but he just keeps on flirting with me and never actually tries to ask me out" you pout, aggressively taking a bit of the scrambled eggs, making your mother chuckle "oh baby, i'm sure it'll happen soon. just give him some time! unless if you're that impatient, then maybe you should try considering to be the one who makes the first move" she walks away, heading upstairs

no, as much as you hate it, that would hurt too much of your pride. so you decided to wait.

--

summer just had started and you couldn't even explain how much you hated the heat. staying under the shade 70% of the time whenever you went out with jake and his friends "guys! i have an announcement" jay yells, you were currently over at jay's house, just having a little party with just the 8 of you "my father booked us a trip to hawaii"

"WHAT?!"

part 2

— HEY 👵🏽 so i decided that this would be a multiple part story bcs i didnt want it to be too long!

i haven’t written the second part yet, but hopefully i’d have it done before tuesday

feel free to ask if you want to be tagged once the second chapter is out!

this has been n1k1tty! see ya!

[jackrrabbit]

cooking at 3am /// Osamu x f!Reader

Request: Imagine cooking together with Osamu at 3am because neither of you could sleep (or because ‘Samu got the midnight munchies lol). You don’t have anything specific in mind; you’re just playing around and feeding each other little bits of what you make.

A/N: bruh you said munchies and my mind said [[ h i g h o s a m u ]] sorry this went in a kinda different direction? but still fun 3am cooking project vibes :P

Tag/warnings: fluff, light drug use (weed), you and Atsumu are lowkey Bros™️, Osamu's kinda baby 🤧

Osamu’s not good at smoking.

He doesn’t really know how to inhale—you know, hold it in his lungs so it can soak in or whatever—and when he does, he coughs. Except he tries to repress the coughs. Even if he wants to hide it, he’s always close enough to you that you can feel his chest moving from trying not to cough when he takes a hit.

And also, like every baby smoker, he can’t really tell when it’s kicking in until he’s off the deep end.

“Can you feel it yet?”

“No.”

You shoot Osamu a glance where he’s sitting on the ground in front of the couch, watching a nature documentary on Atsumu’s TV with a glazed-over look on his face. “You sure? Your eyes are super red.”

“I can’t feel it. Give it—“ He holds out his hand and honestly you’re pretty sure he’s had plenty, but it’s Atsumu’s vape so who cares. You hand it over and Osamu holds it up to his mouth and sucks, eyes fluttering closed as the light on the side of the Pax glows yellow.

God, he looks hot when he does that. Something about a hot guy smoking, yeah? Actually, no. Something about your hot boyfriend smoking.

Except 'Samu holds his breath a second too long and you can see the urge to cough hit him… Wait for it, you think to yourself, and a second later he hacks and wheezes the vapor out in a wispy cloud that reflects silver against the semi-dark. You coo in sympathy and pat his back. “Want some water?”

Osamu shakes his head, hand over his mouth to stop the coughing. On the tv, David Attenborough talks about penguin courtship rituals and Atsumu (who’s been draped on the couch next to you for the past few hours) gives a light little sigh in his sleep. You check the time. 3am. Bedtime. Too bad you and 'Samu are both too high to drive home…whoops. Guess you’re spending the night at Atsumu’s place.

Osamu rubs his bloodshot eyes like they’re itchy, which they probably are. “Hey, can we— uhh… Do we have pancakes.”

“Pancakes, babe? You mean the ones you made for breakfast?”

“Yeah, there’s leftovers…I made you extra and you didn’t want them.” He twists around and gives you an incredibly dirty look, like this is something you did on purpose to hurt his feelings. “If you don’t want them I’m going to eat them.”

“Wait, 'Samu—“ But Osamu's already getting up off the floor to wander over to the next room. You debate pausing the show—it’s a really good scene—but you leave it going for Atsumu's sake because you’re pretty sure the narration is the only thing keeping him asleep. He’s kinda drooling on your shoulder and you have to push him off to go follow your boyfriend to the kitchen.

“What is all this stuff? Ugh…” Osamu's pawing through the fridge. There’s a lot of crinkling, plastic sounds—you catch a glimpse inside and all of the shelves are stacked up with plastic bags and styrofoam containers.

You yawn and hop up to sit on the kitchen island. “Takeout? I don’t think he cooks.” Atsumu's going to get a lecture tomorrow for keeping 2-week-old Indian food in his fridge. God knows you heard it way too many times before you and Osamu moved in together. You don’t envy 'Tsumu.

Osamu sits down in front of the fridge, fumbles with a drawer, and pulls out a bag of moldy grapes. “Gross…who lives like this…”

You snicker into your hand.

“I can’t find the pancakes.” 'Samu's pulling the plastic drawers all the way out now, setting them down on the floor as he inspects the contents of the fridge.

“They’re not here.”

“You ate them?”

“No, I— Hey, put those back in,” you tell him helplessly as he shuts the door of the fridge, ignoring all the leftover food he took out. Yeah, half of it was probably off anyway, but Atsumu's gonna be pissed if he wakes up and there’s takeout going bad all over his kitchen floor.

“You threw away my pancakes?” Now the look on Osamu's face is utter betrayal. He stands up off the floor and glares sulkily at you. “I made those for you…”

“I didn’t throw them away, they’re—“ You hold back a laugh and wish you had your phone on you (where did it go?) so you could take a picture. He’s so cute when he smokes. “—they’re at home.”

“At home?”

“Yep, at home. The place where you and me live, remember?”

“Oh.” Osamu pauses, reaches out absently to grab the edge of your sleeve. You’re wearing one of his hoodies. “We’re not at home?”

“Nope. We’re at Atsumu's place,” you tell him through a giggle.

He plays with your sleeve, contemplating. “Why?”

“Because we’re out of weed and he said he’d smoke us out. And we like hanging out with him.”

“Oh. We do?”

“Yes.”

“…’Kay.” It takes Osamu a second to accept this, but then he nods seriously. “(Y/N), I'm hungry.”

“I know. What do you want to eat? You could probably have any of that stuff, I don’t think he’ll miss it.”

'Samu thinks about it for a moment, scanning the array of takeout containers spread out across the kitchen floor. “I want pancakes.”

“The pancakes are at home, remember?”

“Yeah…” Osamu flips over his grip on your sleeve and traces his thumb down the lines in your palm. “I could make some?”

More pancakes? “I don’t think 'Tsumu has eggs, babe. Or flour. Or…baking soda?” You’re not really sure what ingredients go into pancakes. Whatever cooking skills you possessed pre-Osamu have deteriorated significantly since you moved in together and he took over any and all food preparation for your household.

He pouts at this, and his hair is a little messed up, and he’s so pretty that you can’t stand how much you like him in that second. Mine mine mine, something in the back of your brain says. He’s mine.

You reach up and Osamu obediently ducks his head down so you can smooth his hair back into place and fix the bits that are flipping over his part. “Is there anything else you want to eat?”

“Onigiri.”

“Oh…” Well, at least Atsumu probably has rice. “Sure. Ok. That’s your specialty.”

“I want ya to make it for me.”

“What?” You frown and pull your hand out of his. “You know my cooking sucks.”

“No it doesn’t. (Y/N)’s food’s the best.”

“You own an onigiri shop, come on—“

“Please?”

One of his bangs falls back in his eyes and without thinking you reach up to put it in place. “Okay, fine. But you can’t complain about it if it’s not good.”

He smiles and you want to blush. “Yes! I promise.”

So you do it for him. Even though you’re high too. You measure some rice and water into the rice cooker (Osamu has to give you pointers on how much of each to put in) and you scrounge around Atsumu's depressingly bare kitchen for a few sheets of seaweed and some easy fillings. Osamu pulls a stool up to the island counter and rests his chin on his hands so he can watch you with a bleary look of adoration on his face.

It takes you…maybe half an hour to be done? It’s hard to gauge time when you’re high. You and 'Samu both jump when the rice cooker finishes and plays the little rice cooker song, which will remain stuck in your head for the foreseeable future. 'Samu hums it in a loop while you shape the rice into lopsided triangles and wrap the nori around it.

“Here,” you tell him when you set the plate down in front of him. He looks entirely too happy to be eating your mediocre food for someone who literally does this for a living, but who cares.

He picks one, takes a bite, swallows. And blinks.

“What do you think?” you ask in spite of yourself.

“Umm…salty,” Osamu says.

You grab one to try yourself and it’s salty. Like, ocean salty. Yuck. “I told you it would be bad,” you complain, trying to tug the plate away but Osamu grabs it and pulls it back.

“Noooo…it’s good,” he lies, although his face is giving him away. Still, he takes another bite and chews enthusiastically.

“Shut up.” You tug a little harder but Osamu doesn’t let go.

He swallows, pulls a face, and takes another one. “So good. I love it.”

“Shut up. You sound so fake. You’re going to get sick if you eat that.” You keep pulling, but he insists on pretending it’s edible so you admit defeat and help him finish the onigiri off. God, they’re awful. But he keeps eating and so you do too.

When you’re done, your mouth feels dry as fuck and you want to sleep almost as much as you want to drink about a gallon of water. “Is it bedtime yet?” 'Samu asks, wiping his mouth and then rubbing his eyes again.

The clock over the oven says it’s past 4. “Yes. It’s bedtime.”

“Wait—we’re…we’re not at home, right? We’re at 'Tsumu's?”

“Mhm.”

“I prolly drove here…I dunno if I can drive now,” Osamu tells you slowly, like he’s apologizing. “I think I'm kinda high.”

“Oh yeah?” You hold your laugh back and put your hands up on his cheeks. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Blurry? Like…you’re in slow-motion.” His hands come up to layer over yours. “You’re pretty in slow-mo.”

“Prettier than usual?”

Osamu closes his eyes, scrunching them up to think and then looking over your face intently. “Same amount, just slower. So it’s easier to see.”

“That so?” You slip your hands around to drape over his shoulders and get up on your tiptoes to give him a little kiss on the cheek, because he’s earned it. “You know what, I think I'm kinda high too. I think we’re going to have to have a sleepover.”

“On the couch? S’not big enough for us both.”

“You can sleep with 'Tsumu in his bed…or I guess you could sleep on the ground?”

'Samu's mouth twists and his brows draw together. You can practically hear the gears in his mind turning while he considers alternatives. “Can we share the bed?”

“I think Atsumu's gonna want it. It’s his house.”

“But he’s already sleeping.”

True, you can hear Atsumu snoring lightly from the living room underneath David Attenborough’s description of endangered falcons in the Philippine rainforest. You should really wake him up—matter of fact, you should really clean up the kitchen because it’s a huge mess—but 'Samu's already pulling you away. And you’re so sleepy.

“He’s going to be pissed tomorrow,” you tell Osamu through a yawn, but you let him steer you in the direction of Atsumu's bedroom, holding your hand.

“Don’t care…I hate sleeping without you.”

“Yeah,” you say, and you squeeze his hand and he looks back at you like you’re the literal best thing in the entire universe—and you decide you should get him high more often. “Same.”

[bump1nthen1ght]

I’m Still Hurting (Orc x Reader) Part 2

Pairings: Fem!Reader/Male!Orc

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Angst

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2107 words

Summary: You and your boyfriend establish a new normal

A/N: At long last, the highly requested part two! I had a bit of struggle coming up with a proper followup to the first part (which was part of why I left it with an open-ended ending in the first place lol). Little less angst this time, I felt these two deserved a little sweetness after the last chapter. Hope y'all enjoy!

Part 1

The first thing that caught your eye when you walked by the music store was the Grand Piano. It was gorgeous: Polished mahogany, a nice velvet seat, and keys that looked like they had never seen the sticky fingers of a curious 8 year old.

“Wow, is that new?”

You nod, admiring the old-fashioned air of the instrument. You knew jack shit about music, but even you could tell that this piano was an antique, one probably worth a good chunk of change.

“Must be. I’ve never seen it before and this place is on my way to work.”

Waruck hmms, pressing his hands up against the glass. His eyes sparkle when he sees the “Free to Play” sign right next to the piano. It probably reminds him of his Grandpa’s, the one he played when you guys visited his family for Christmas.

That was a long time ago.

“Want to go in?”

Waruck pulls away from the glass, eyebrows raised. He rubs the back of his neck and steps a couple feet back, trying to curb his enthusiasm.

“Uh, we don’t have to-”

“I don’t mind. It's been a while-” You pause, the slight-anxiety in the air making every casual word difficult, “It’s been a while since I’ve heard you play.”

Waruck smiles, small and polite, and opens the door of the shop for you. Before, he might have done a little bow and said “Ladies First” in a British accent.

But that was before, and this is now. Now, every comment is walking on eggshells, whispered tentatively and under your breath. Testing the waters for how comfortable you two could get around each other.

Still, it was exponential growth from two months ago.

--------

After your meeting at the coffee shop, you had asked Waruck for a month; A month of privacy, for you to collect your thoughts and feelings, to be alone for a bit. He had agreed immediately, shuffling out of the cafe with a hunched back and a melancholy air, but he had kept his promise. You took the time to focus on other things, shifting your relationship to the back of your mind and enjoying the day-to-day.

But a part of you felt a little bad, like maybe you were stringing Waruck along for an inevitable breakup. Getting his hopes up for an extra tortuous punishment that left a sour taste in your mouth. So on one brave Saturday night, you sent him a meme you saw on Instagram, one that reminded you of him.

That second month saw the two of you texting more and more frequently, sending little jokes, asking how your day was, so and so. Each week rebuilt a little bit more of that familiarity, that comfortableness. It finally got to the point where Waruck asked if you were free one weekend. He just wanted to get some lunch and stroll around the neighborhood for a bit. For the first time in a while, that idea didn’t seem too bad.

--------

The air is considerably cooler inside the store, a tiny bell ringing as a rush of air-conditioned air hits both of you. Waruck makes a beeline for the piano, his footsteps short and quick. You feel a smile crawl on your face; He always acted like an excited kid when it came to music.

Waruck plops down in the center of the stool, fingers lightly brushing over the keys in awe. You walk up the piano’s side, laying your hand on the wood and admiring the lack of smudge marks on the polished wood. Waruck tests out a G note and although the sound is short, it’s extremely pleasant. Waruck’s smile grows even larger.

“When I was a young boy…”

You mutter under your breath. Waruck chuckles, quickly continuing onto a G flat.

“My father took me into the city,” Waruck hums

“To see a marching band.” The two of you sing together, laughing a little bit too loudly and gaining a sharp look from the tired sales clerk. Waruck waves a little apology, but that playful grin stays on his face.

“Wow, that brings back some repressed Hot Topic memories.”

“Seriously. I can almost feel the book my band teacher used to thwack me with. Me and my buddies would sneak into the choir room and play that all the time.” Waruck’s fingers dance over a couple more notes, aimless.

You’ve always liked watching Waruck play. His fingers were so dextrous and controlled,  not to mention long and nicely articulated. He’d probably make good money from a hand-model side-gig.

“Want to take a seat?”

You shift your focus away from Waruck’s hands. He’s made space on the bench and pats the open space next to him.

“Yeah, sure.” You say, despite the fast pace your heart is now beating.

You keep a solid two inches of distance between your bodies, keeping your thighs together as to not brush your legs with his. It felt like a middle school dance, keeping a bible length away from your partner to avoid the disapproving stare of the chaperones.

Waruck nods, absentmindedly running his fingers up the scale. “Any requests?”

Immediately, all non-love songs depart from your brain. One of your favorite pieces sits on the tip of your tongue and your brain refuses to let it go. You shake your head.

“Nope. It’s all yours, music man.”

Waruck chuckles, a little louder and a lot more comfortable, as he sits deeper in his seat.

“Prepare,” Waruck cracks his knuckles, “to be amazed.”

You bite back a laugh. He’s still such a dork.

He starts to play, his hands easily finding the right keys, moving like a well-oiled machine. Your heart nearly skips a beat before it melts into a puddle of sentiment.

It’s your favorite.

The song brings back memories of your childhood, a rainy day in, and delicious food. It’s like chicken soup for the soul and you can feel any of the left over tension leave your body.

Waruck’s eyebrows furrow with concentration, but he has a large smile on his face, his large tusks peeking out from his lips. His arm stretches across the piano as the song hits its most fast-paced part. His biceps and shoulders lean more into your space, but the feeling isn’t unwelcome. It feels natural, as if his presence and yours is part of the piece itself.

Waruck’s thigh brushes against yours, but his pace doesn’t falter and neither does yours. You stay enraptured, watching how easily he slips into the music. You barely even notice how you have begun to lean closer to his side; Your mind says it’s to give his arms plenty of space to play, but it’s still far more comfortable than you are willing to admit.

How easy it feels, in the moment, to fall back into routine.

The song begins slowing to a stop, only a couple seconds left, when the sounds of the music shop return to you. A giggle from not too far rings discordant with Waruck’s piano.

Three girls stand not too far from you, watching with fascination as Waruck plays.

“Wow, he is so good!” One whispers to her friends.

There is nothing even remotely lascivious in their eyes or in their words, but a knife still twists in your gut. Your throat constricts as flashes of your bedroom, of unanswered texts, and a picture of a bar corner booth send needles down your spine and into your heart.

Is this wrong? Is this giddy feeling you have only distracting you from reality? Is it like this song, Waruck’s playing, beautiful but temporary?

“Ugh, I want what they have.”

“I know, right? How romantic.”

They’re wrong, you’re wrong, this is wrong; It’s fake, fake, fa-

Your eyes dart to and fro, trying to desperately avoid Waruck’s quickly overwhelming body heat and your audience, before it catches on the distorted shape of your reflection in the window.

The glass is old, slightly drooping, even the golden lettering of the music shop’s name looks dusty and sun-bleached.

But what is unmistakable is you and Waruck. Waruck, playing piano, and looking at you. Looking at you with the love in his eyes you thought had died, or had never been there at all. The group of girls stands in the background, small and out of focus.

And Waruck is staring at you.

“Are you okay?” Waruck asks, his warm hand on your shoulder.

You whip your neck around, almost getting whiplash.

You’re here, in the music store, with your boyfriend. He looks at you, brow slightly puzzled from your wild eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I,” You suck in a deep breath, “Sorry, I guess I got lost in my own head. That song gets me kind of nostalgic.”

Waruck pats your shoulder and you miss it’s heat when he pulls it back to his side. He smiles, but you can tell he is still slightly worried.

“No problem, I get it.”

You notice now how much closer Waruck is to you. His chest has shifted towards yours, the fabric of his shirt sleeve pressing against the skin of your bicep. Waruck’s knee absentmindedly knocks into yours, but the contact doesn’t sting or jolt you. Not even the continuing silence makes the situation awkward.

It’s nice.

“Do you want to check out the record aisle? They might actually have that piece on vinyl.”

Waruck gestures with his thumb to the piles of CD’s and records not too far from you two. You nod

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

--------

The two of you spend about an hour in the music store, pointing out hilarious cover art and admiring some vintage finds. Waruck even gets you to chuckle a couple of times, slowly bringing out his old cheesy puns.

Waruck’s missed this.

You two walk out of the music store at the tail end of one of Waruck’s jokes, you playfully punching his shoulder.

The two of you wander, in the opposite direction of your cars, for a little while. But Waruck hasn’t lost track of time; No, he’s soaking in every moment he can, every smile and lingering look you give him. Every reminder that this is real.

He spent a week agonizing over what he did. Stuck in silence as he gave you your space. His friends (His real friends, not those assholes from the bar) had offered to come by and keep him company, but he turned it down.

When Waruck got back into routine, it was slow-rolling. It was difficult to fight the instinct to check his phone for a good-morning text, or check your Instagram for any ‘post-breakup’ partying.

No, he had already broken your trust once. The least he could do was give you some time. Spend some hour not wallowing in self-pity, but actively make a change.

Waruck began to accept those invites to a chill hang out, playing some poker and sipping on beer with the gang. He played his keyboard when the thoughts got too loud and went jogging when the music wasn’t loud enough. He called his mom a couple of times, even sent his sister a  couple of texts to catch up. They hadn’t spoken outside of holidays for almost three years.

Maybe he was the one that needed time.

God, why did you have to be so smart?

“Oh shit, how long have we been walking?” You mutter, checking your watch for the time. Waruck turns around you, already knowing the answer was 27 minutes, exactly. The both of you were nearing the edge of the neighborhood, cafes and shops turning into residential suburbs. “Dang, time really flies, huh?”

Waruck smiles.

“With you? It always does.”

You give him a half smile, patting his bicep. “Oh my god, you’re such a cheeseball.”

Waruck winks and shoots you some finger guns.

“You know it babe.”

You giggle, checking your watch once more, face turning just a little bit.

“I should probably head back, I’m getting dinner with some friends tonight.”

A small part of Waruck yearns for more time, but he lets it go.

Space, this was about establishing space.

“I had a lot of fun today, Waruck.” You step a little closer, Waruck’s heart skips a beat.

“Me too.” He whispers, his breath catching as your fingers brush against his.

It’s a simple gesture, one you’ve down a million times. But when your palm slips into his, your finger’s interlocking, it’s like fireworks have gone off.

“Same time, next week?”

Waruck nods, not trusting himself to speak without a voice crack.

That’s all he needed, all you wanted; The promise of the future.

“Yes, I would love that.”

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 150

I think for the time being, I am going to quit calling myself ‘late’ posting as long as I get the chapter up on the right day of the week *facepalm*.  Bc I am barely keeping ahead, much less remembering to queue things up.

I am so, so sorry about that....

Fair warning before anyone @s me: The French is a joke, so if I got it super wrong I am equally sorry to the degree of which it’s wrong.

Unless it’s obscene. Then I want to know so that I can laugh with you, and I am LEAVING IT.

As always, shouts out to @baelpenrose, @the-raven-fae, and @charlylimph-blog!

Heaving an enormous Dutch oven onto a burner, I turned on the heat low and started chopping vegetables. After the first celery stalk, I glanced up at Derek, who sat across from Maverick in our living room.  The quarters were shaped differently, which had distressed Derek initially, but the addition of his favorite blankets to the sofa had helped.  Currently, he was completely distracted from even Mac: staring off into space, his fingers flying and flicking with a feverish, almost convulsive movement.

Maverick glanced up at me with a smile before following my gaze. “Yep, the cyber siege continues.  He’s doing well, from what Zach told me.”

“I thought he was only supposed to attack human-managed systems,” I grumbled, thinking back to the cold shower I had been subjected to that morning. Turning back to the vegetables, I made short work of the celery before taking my frustration out on the carrots. Scooping the diced vegetables into a bowl, I started measuring out paprika, sugar, salt, pepper, basil, and oregano into another bowl.  “Where’s Sam, by the way?”

“On the way,” Maverick promised. “With Terran-style tomatoes, he swears.  And Derek is only attacking systems we manage.  When BioLab 2 was set up, we had to take over water management, to protect the lab from any sort of contamination.”

The knife in my hand, brandished at three cloves of garlic, clattered to the work surface. “Seriously?” I glared at the tap, suddenly suspicious.

“Probably get water from the console,” he winced, nodding briskly at Derek, who nodded in confirmation without stopping his tapping and flicking gestures.

Groaning, I shook my head and crushed the garlic, removed the skin, and started mincing. All that was left was to wait on the tomatoes from Sam.  The garlic was potent enough, and I wanted to avoid cutting any onion until absolutely necessary since Derek was clearly parked for the duration.

I was saved about fifteen minutes later when Conor and Sam stopped at the door.  Sam waved cheerfully and held up the requested vegetables while Conor removed his boots. A quick shuffle later for Sam to remove his own shoes, and both came to the food prep area - too small to be considered a proper kitchen - to greet me. 

First, Conor gave me a big, smelly hug and a kiss on my hair. “Did you already slice the bread?”

“Ew, you gorilla!” I laughed. “And I haven’t sliced any bread yet, I wasn’t sure how long I had and I didn’t want it to get too stale.”

“They’re toasties, love.” He shook his head with a grin before swatting me on the butt. “No one cares if the bread was a bit stale before you started.”

Over his shoulder, Derek’s head bobbed side to side. “I think someone disagrees.” I looked meaningfully past him.  To Conor’s credit, he looked sheepish.

Sam squeezed around and handed me the tomatoes and gave me a hug. “Thank you for making soup.”

“I know it’s our favorite,” I winked before shooing him out of the area. “Not enough room for more than one in the kitchen. Y’all go unwind out there, and make sure you warn Derek that I’m about to start cutting onions.”

As he held up his hands and jokingly scurried away, I turned to the stove and started cursing myself. I’d forgotten to start boiling water. Snagging a small saucepan, I got a carafe of water from the console and started rectifying that, tossing in a generous pinch of salt.  Gently, I cut an X into the bottom of each tomato and set them aside before peeling and dicing the onion.  Immediately, the onion, carrots, and celery went into a food processor.  “Derek, I’m about to be loud,” I called softly before counting to ten to give him time to cover his ears or step into the corridor.  A quick blitz later, the vegetables were perfectly between a mince and a puree.

A quick swizzle of oil went into the already-hot dutch oven before adding the mirepoix and giving it a quick stir. As if on cue, Tyche and Antoine breezed through the door, noses twitching.

“I smell food,” she announced, stalking into the kitchen.  One look at the ingredients was all it took. “Ooooo you’re making the tomato soup.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “I am, and you know I don’t have room in here for spectators, unfortunately.” Arching an eyebrow, I pointed the spoon in my hand at the table.

She wasn’t having it. “One of these days, you’re going to show me how to make that. May as well be today.”

“Nice try, but I need some secrets. Besides, the longer I argue with you, the more likely the vegetables are going to scorch. Scoot!”

She scrunched her face at me but acquiesced. As I scooped the garlic into the pot, I heard her change topics. “How much longer is the stress test? My music keeps getting mixed up with Antoine’s. I don’t mind it, but…”

Antoine smiled softly and shook his head. “But it is quite a shock to expect classical music and instead her rock starts playing.”

Personally, I liked both, but still shuddered at what he was talking about. Carefully lowering three of the tomatoes into the now-boiling water, I glanced at the sauteing vegetables and gave them a quick stir to check. “We have about six more days before the repairs start, maybe four more after that?”

Conor sighed. “I wish we could ask if anything important was being hacked, not just annoying environmental controls.”

“Plants aren’t dead yet,” Sam pointed out, tipping his bottle of water toward Conor in a practiced gesture.  Everyone laughed when, rather than being reassured, Conor leapt to his feet to check on his ‘babies’ in the room.

Cursing, I dipped the tomatoes out of the boiling water and dropped them immediately into an ice bath.  A couple pokes with my trusty spoon showed they weren’t overcooked, thankfully. “None of my information for work has been acting up,” I admitted as I started peeling them. “But Pranav advised that more critical data would either go completely missing or not show any signs of infiltration.  We won’t know until after the test is over.”

“Lovely,” Tyche drawled as she watched Conor fretting over the plants. “So it’s all or nothing.”

I shrugged and dumped the tomato paste - admittedly, from the console - into the pan of other vegetables.  When I stirred, I was satisfied that the carrots, onion, and celery had cooked down to where they were soft. “In a weird way, it makes sense. They’re testing for catastrophic data breaches, which would pull everything down, or for data theft, which you wouldn’t want to leave traces of.”

The corner of Antoine’s mouth quirked up as I dropped three more tomatoes into the pan of boiling water. “No hidden boba tea this time, that is reassuring.”

Hands still moving without hesitation, Derek whipped his head toward Antoine, paused, and turned back to where he had been staring. Derek’s version of a glare.

“That was Charly,” I responded in unexpected unison with Maverick and Conor.  I smirked while dumping the already-peeled tomatoes into the processor with another pinch of salt. “Seriously, Derek had nothing to do with that other than divine retribution.” I paused for a moment. “Although I do have to admit that the cold showers do seem to track with what Charly reported.”

That only got a shrug from Derek, which was as good as an admission.

The conversation shifted again - something Conor and Sam were working on in the aeroponics labs that I had already heard multiple details on, plus repetition.  Tuning it out, I pulled out the last three tomatoes, dropped them in the ice bath, and took a platter with a loaf of bread, sliced cheese, and butter out to the table. “Mav, can you start setting up the sandwiches?”

He went to stand, but Tyche shooed him back down. “I got it. She may not let me help make the soup on this one, but I can prep a grilled cheese with the best.” Staring me in the eye, she started cutting slices from the loaf defiantly.

I just laughed it off. This was the only tomato soup either of us liked, and she had been chasing me for the recipe for ages.  It had become a running joke at this point, so without hesitation, I moved back to the food prep area, peeled the remaining tomatoes, and gave another warning that I was going to be loud.  Some more blitzing later, the now-pureed tomatoes went into the pan of veggies along with the spices I had already measured out, the juice from one lemon, and enough water to fill the pan three-quarters full.  Leaving that to boil, I moved the boiling water off the stove and swapped it for a grill-pan.

“Sophie!” Conor cried from the armchair where he perched. “You’ve seen the plants we’re growing in the lab! Tell them we’ve managed a crop of roots!”

I winced. “Jury’s out… I’m not sure how aeroponic potatoes are going to turn out, but I can confirm they are in the process of finding out?”

Tyche’s knife fell to the table, and she moved her mouth silently in a very accurate imitation of a fish before managing to sputter. “Air-grown… potatoes?”

The confusion on Antoine’s face was painful to look at. He started to speak before stopping himself and instead pulling up his datapad, jotting a message, and flicking it out to the room.

When I read the message, the confusion was so clear that I hurt my sinuses snorting. Des pomme de terre en l’air? Pommes aeriennes? Talk about being lost in translation…. “Conor, Sam… I think Antoine has the perfect name for those if they work out. Just sayin’”

Tyche snorted and shook her head before handing me the platter, with a stack of perfectly buttered bread, two slices of cheese between every other slice of bread.  The soup had just come to a simmer, so I was stirring intently and just nodded for her to start grilling sandwiches.  Several appreciative sniffs and twenty minutes later, six bowls of soup and six matching sandwiches - three cut vertically and three cut diagonally, because it mattered and was not a battle I was willing to fight - hit the table.  Tyche politely placed the salt cellar and a pepper grinder on the table, although the glare she dished out to the collected group promised strong retaliation to anyone who touched them.

I held up half of my grilled cheese in a mock-toast. “To soup night!”

“To air potato soup, soon!” Maverick offered up with a grin, only for everyone to echo his sentiment with the exception of Derek - who just held up half of his sandwich with one hand and tapped away with the other, not even relenting to eat.

Frankly, as long as he spared a hand to eat, I couldn’t bring myself to care.  He took these tests very seriously, and generally only stopped when he was completely asleep.

Everyone dug in, but it was only after my first spoonful that I spoke up. “Considering how long it took to make sure the tomatoes wouldn’t be poisonous, I’m not sure the potatoes will be ready before we get to Von.”

Conor and Sam nodded, as did Tyche and Antoine, but Maverick stopped with his bowl halfway to his mouth.  Setting it down gently, he angled his head. “What do you mean, poisonous?”

“They’re nightshades,” Conor told him, as calmly as if he was telling us that water was wet. “Tomatoes are the only edible berries of that family, and potatoes are the only edible tubers, so we have to be extra careful.”

Maverick’s eyes grew wide and turned toward his soup. Tyche just reached out and patted his hand. “You’ve eaten this soup for years, and you love tomatoes. They’re safe, I swear.  And Sam won’t let Sophia near the new ones until he’s completely sure they’ll be okay to eat.”

Sam nodded, shoving a soup-covered wedge into his mouth. “We’re growing them in simulated Von-light, hoping that keeps the roots from creating chlorophyll.  If we’re wrong, there’s a forty-three-point-six percent chance they won’t grow at all, ten-point-five percent chance they will give you a stomach ache, eighteen-point-four percent they won’t taste good, and twenty-seven-point-five percent they will taste good and be safe to eat at the same time.”

“Meaning they won’t kill you, you might get a tummy ache, but most likely for this generation, they just won’t grow,” Conor translated.

“Hang on,” I held up my spoon. “What kind of stomachache are we talking here?”

The mad botanists looked at each other and made a few thoughtful faces. Finally, Conor nodded and Sam spoke. “Unripe apples,” he stated flatly. “But just unripe apples.”

“Oh, that’s not too bad,” I shrugged and crunched into my sandwich.

Derek finished his half-sandwich and blindly reached for another. He had it halfway to his mouth before he looked at it and dropped it back to the plate in alarm. You would have thought it tried to bite him rather than vice versa.

Antoine shook his head and reached past the vertically cut sandwich Derek had dropped and delicately handed him a diagonally cut one. “Here you go, friend.”

Glaring at the sandwich like it may betray him, he bit it viciously before going back to the screen he could only see in his mind, seemingly satisfied that the sandwich would not change into the offending shape.

I told you, it matters.

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[mystic-deep]

"Whipped Cream" - Part 1 | Nanami Kento fem!reader

♡ ♡ ♡ description: Taking cooking classes seemed like a nice way to relax and sharpen your skills, too bad the teacher hates you.

♡ ♡ ♡ warnings: none, some mild swearing near the end, rating will go up due to explicit content in later chapters.

♡ ♡ ♡ notes: Chef Nanami anyone? Probably the only job that he'd actually enjoy haha. I'm not sure how many parts this will have but I'm not going to rush it, I pretty much have the plot and ending all planned out, let's see how fast we can get there haha. As always, didn't have time to proofread so please don't mind the mistakes.

♡ ♡ ♡ word count: 2.5k

“Happy Birthday!”

Sitting at a table inside a small restaurant, you looked at your best friend as she handed you a colourful envelop. Money? She wasn’t your mother. A postcard? Too cheap considering she only bought you a bouquet of flowers.

“Open it already!”

Like obeying a command, you opened it and peeked inside. A gift card? How original. You spent days preparing the gift for her birthday and she gets you a gift card. Seeing your disappointed expression, she quickly explained.

“It’s a cooking course! You always said you wanted to attend one but never got the time, I figured if I bought it, then you’d have no choice but to go.”

You took the card out and began to inspect it. The words VIP were written in a golden colour as well as the name of the school you’d be attending.

“It was the most popular course, apparently you have to book it months in advance. I was really lucky since someone dropped out at the last minute.”

“When will I have the time to-”

“Shhhh!” She placed her index finger on your lips in order to shut you up. “The group session is thrice a week and you have twelve lessons in total. It’s after working hours and if for some reason you can’t attend then they can schedule a private lesson for the weekend. Benefit of a VIP and all.” She flipped her hair in a proud way and you fought back the urge to roll your eyes. Who says money can’t buy a very expensive and needless cooking course?

The truth was, you loved to cook, it was the only time you felt calm in your otherwise hectic life. You were also pretty good at it but self-taught. You once joked that it would be fun to take some lessons and actually sharpen your skills but that was the point, you were joking. You remember the promise you made to yourself at the beginning of the year that you would go to the gym every day and get in shape. You bought a class pass for a year with a personal trainer and only ended up going for a week or two. You still received reminders weekly that you should be attending since it was already paid.

“Thank you, it’s a really thoughtful gift.” You offered her a smile as you played with the card in your hand. Well, one lesson or two might not take up too much of your time. You were also curios to know why this particular course was so popular.

“You’re welcome! Also, from what I’ve heard but nothing confirmed yet, the chef that’s going to teach you is really good looking.” Her eyes gleamed and you wondered if she was sending you out like a scout, to test the water and if it was good then she’d join as well.

“Wonderful, I can’t wait to be surrounded by an army of housewives.”

Monday afternoon you found yourself at the reception of the cooking school you’d be attending for the next couple of weeks. You had to admit that so far the building looked impressive. There were several classes from what you could tell and the lobby was already pretty crowded.

“Can I help you?”

The pleasant looking receptionist gave you a smile and you handed her your VIP card.

“Yes, I’m here to attend the course with chef Nanami Kento.”

“Oh, Nanami-sensei!” She gleefully took your card and began the registration. “You’re pretty lucky, this is our most popular class. It’s quite unusual for someone to drop out.”

“So I keep hearing.”

She gave you back your card as well as a small bag that contained several items.

“You have here your apron as well as your class schedule and several cooking accessories that you get to keep at the end of the lessons. The class is 10-A, the very last room at the end of the corridor. I hope you enjoy this experience!”

You smiled and thanked her before heading to the classroom. Upon entering you realized that your fears had been justified, the whole room was filled with women ranging from mid-thirties to some ladies that looked in their sixties. Only women, and they all seemed to know each other.

You moved to one of the islands in the back, taking out your apron and putting it on. You had to admit you kind of felt like you were participating in the Great British Bake Off. In terms of gadgets at your disposal, everything was modern and your island was well equipped with everything one might need for the cooking process. You had your very own oven and stove as well as a Kitchen aid and several other utensils. In one of the drawers you found a cutting board as well as a set of knives and several bowls. You were starting to realize why the fee had been so expensive.

“First time here?”

You turned around and nodded sheepishly at a group of older looking women.

“I guess everyone knows each other huh?”

“For most of us this is the second time we’ve taken this course, it’s quite lovely, you learn a lot of things.” You couldn’t help but wonder why they would need to take the exact same course twice. Either they didn’t manage to learn what they were supposed to the first time around or the chef really was thathandsome.

“I’m looking forward to it as well, I want to sharpen my skill and this one came highly recommended.”

“Are you married?” The question came as a punch in the gut and they all looked at you like it was the most normal thing one could ask.

“We didn’t see a ring on your finger.”

“Urm no, married to my work perhaps.” You offered a light chuckle but no one else found it funny.

“Then for whom are you sharpening your skills for? Any children?”

At this point you thought their questions were quite intrusive and rude. Were they perhaps thinking that you were a threat? A young new girl that was going to steal away the attention of their sensei? You were actually starting to get aggravated by their attitude. What happened to solidarity between women?

“I want to sharpen them for myself. No children, just a cat, pretty lucky I suppose.” Their eyes narrowed and you smiled to yourself. Teasing them was proving to be quite fun.

“Oh? Well, you’ll want them when you’re older. Although, you should probably hurry, not much time left to spare.” By this point your hand was itching to slap at least one of them. What an unpleasant bunch of old hags!

You were ready to give a sharp reply when the door of the classroom was opened and your teacher stepped inside. You hated to admit it, you really hated it, but he was indeed handsome. Blonde hair, light coloured eyes, build like a brick wall, sharp features and when he opened his mouth to greet the class, you fawned over his deep voice.

“I’m glad to see some familiar faces…and new ones of course.” His eyes landed on you and you shifted, feeling like a doe caught in the headlights. His presence was quite something, no wonder these women were ready to turn into harpies just for a bit of his attention. Still, it wasn’t enough to win you over. If anything, you felt an instant antipathy towards him-he seemed too arrogant for your taste.

“We’ll start our first day with a test bake. I want to see each and everyone’s level before we begin our lessons.” As he spoke, he neatly rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt and put his own apron on. You could actually hear sighs going around the room but he seemed unbothered.

“You can bake anything you like, something you’re comfortable and good at.” With that said, he gave you an hour and a half to see what you’d come up with.

You decided on your famous lemon cookies, they were pretty easy to make and every time you baked a batch your friends would fight over it. As you were creaming the butter with the sugar you felt a presence near your station and turned to look at Nanami that was peeking inside the glass bowl.

“What are you making?” Just like that, no introduction, no small talk, right down to business.

“Lemon cookies. They’re-”

“Quite a simple recipe, don’t you think? I wanted to see your level, this is something even a child could bake.” Your heart dropped a little. You weren’t great at taking criticism and you couldn’t stand how those old hangs from before were snickering behind you.

“You said to bake something that we’re good at.”

“So lemon cookies are the only thing you’re good at? Hmm.” With that he left your station and you just stared at his back as he went on to check on someone else. Your cheeks turned red with embarrassment and anger. You were going to shut him up, once he had a taste of your cookies he’d eat his words, as well as the whole batch.

It seemed, however, that the universe was working against you. The batter didn’t have enough time to chill and since you weren’t accustomed to the oven you over-baked them. You stared at the plate of spread lemon cookies, not one looking the same as the other, and chew on your bottom lip.

With your baking time coming to an end, he was walking from one stand to another, mostly complimenting the results. The other women in your class were a giggling mess, thanking him like he had offered salvation just for eating one of their treats.

When he finally reached your station, you felt his judging eyes burning holes into your very soul.

“What happened?”

“Well, the fridge is not set to the right temperature. The one I have at home is much cooler, and I didn’t have time to let the batter set. Also, the oven is different from-”

“A simple recipe but you couldn’t finish it properly. Everyone in class uses the same type of fridge and oven, no one else had any problems.”

You wanted to argue back, wanted to say how unfair it was since they were all well accustomed to their working stations because they had already taken this class. Instead you kept quiet and fought back tears that had formed at the corner of your eyes. If you wanted someone to look down on your work you would have stayed overtime at your office.

“Can’t be helped, since you’re at beginner level. You have to keep up with the rest of the class so please pay extra attention during lessons and don’t hesitate to ask your classmates for advice.” With that said he continued to stroll around the room, throwing nice remarks left and right.

When the class was finally over you grabbed your bag and dashed out of the room. You struggled to take off your apron as you walked through the main reception and into the elevator that led to the parking lot. When you finally managed to set yourself free you fished the phone from your handbag and dialled your friend.

“Hey little chef, how was your first-”

“Horrible! I’m never coming here again!” You practically screamed in your phone as the elevator doors closed. You were shaking with anger and as you stared at your reflection in the mirror from the opposite wall, you also realized you looked just as upset as you felt.

“He’s an ass! He didn’t teach us shit! Test bake he said, so I made my lemon cookies you know.”

“Oh I love those!”

“Right?! Too easy he said, even a child could make them! The damn fridge wasn’t working properly and I forgot to set the oven so they spread a little but they were still good! Then he just made fun of me in front of the whole class and ugh don’t even get me started on them-” You continued to vent as the doors of the elevator opened and you stepped inside the underground parking lot.

“All of them have taken the class before and they’re just here to drool over the teacher. I swear it’s a fucking joke, his class is only popular because every single middle-aged married woman there wants to fuck him!” You stopped from your raging rant to look for your cars keys that were nowhere to be found. “I swear they all have some sick fantasies with him! He’s not a chef, he’s just some thirty something guy that preys on naïve women. He probably doesn’t even know how to whip cream!” You huffed in anger while trying to juggle the bag you received at the reception, your handbag and your phone.

“Where the hell are my car keys?”

“They seemed to have fallen at your feet.”

You froze, feeling the blood draining from your body. You turned around in slow motion and looked up at the figure of your teacher who was only a few feet away from you. You didn’t realize just how tall and menacing he looked until now.

“Urm, I-”

“I’ll be seeing you on Wednesday. That is, if you want to attend a class taught by a guy who doesn’t know how to whip cream.”

The sweet embrace of death couldn’t have come faster. You picked your keys from the ground and tried to form some kind of apology but he quickly walked through the parking lot towards his car. He opened the door of an expensive looking Mercedes and drove away, leaving you standing there like a complete moron.

“Y/n are you still there? What happened?”

“Oh god, oh god, I’ve fucked up!” You began to walk to your car feeling like the worst person on earth. “I’m not sure how much he heard but he heard plenty.”

“Ohoho this is getting interesting!”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” You spat bitterly as you opened the door of your own car and stepped inside, throwing you bags on the empty seat. “Well, I shouldn’t bother with what he thinks anyway. He was mean to mean first and it’s not like I’m going again.”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this one! I didn’t spend so much money just so your workaholic ass can come up with excuses not to attend! I don’t care if he likes you or not, despite what you may think he was highly recommended for his skill not for his looks.” You grumbled as you turned on your engine, really hating the fact that your friend was making a point. You loved to cook, you were good at it, you might have had a bad day and now your teacher hated you, but you shouldn’t give up on the opportunity to learn proper cooking skills.

“Alright, I’m going to try a few more lessons. It will be a miracle if he doesn’t kill me by the end of the week.”

“That’s my girl!” You rolled your eyes and hanged up the phone before driving off. You really didn’t like Nanami and now he had more than enough reasons not to like you, but you also weren’t a quitter. If anything, you will continue to go to classes out of pure spite. You’ll show him how skilful you actually were, far better than any of those hyenas from your class. You’ll whip that cream until you’ll turn it into butter.

[tapehissorchid]

🔮👻🎃 The House That Dripped Unsolicited Movie Suggestions 🎃👻🔮  (30/31)

The Devil’s Backbone (2001) [dir: Guillermo del Toro]

[qianinterprises]

Smoke Detector

Pairing: Taeyong x Reader

Warnings: burnt food, tears, self-doubt

Scenario 1) when they (you) mess up cooking dinner for the first time.

Summary: you want to make dinner for Taeyong on your anniversary, but to do so requires help from the fourth best chef in NCT. Unfortunately, that isn't enough to stop disaster.

Genre: fluff, minor angst

Author's Notes: I am participating in the ficscafe scenario event! You may be seeing a few of these pop up as I am super excited to write these scenarios! Also, I apologize if this is kinda sucky. I wrote it in one sitting because I just had SO much inspiration, but there's a very good chance that this isn't very good.

Word Count: 2.6k

Tag List: @treasuretaeil @hachanbaecon

For as long as you could remember, you'd never learned how to properly put on a meal. Sure, you could make ramen in the microwave or throw together a sandwich, but anything involving more technical skills and you were screwed. For that reason, you never offered to cook for your boyfriend, which admittedly made you feel inadequate, but he was so an amazing chef that admitting your lack of skills was embarrassing to say the least.

Taeyong had no idea you had very little talent in the kitchen. You never told him about the time you nearly burnt down your mother's kitchen trying to make tacos or the time you forgot your scones in the oven until they were black as coal and hard as stones.

Taeyong's cooking skills were perfect. He could whip nothing into the most delectable meal you'd ever tasted. And that was daunting.

He should be with someone who he could partner with. Someone who could share the responsibility of the kitchen because you knew, when Taeyong got home after allday of schedules, the last thing he wanted to do was cook. But he did so anyway (unless you'd convinced him to get takeout). He never complained. Never questioned why you didn't cook for him. Never gave you anything but a happy smile and a soft peck on the lips.

Lee Taeyong was just too perfect. So perfect in fact that today, on the morning of your two year anniversary, he had taken the morning off and instead, bounced around in the kitchen cooking up all your favorite breakfast foods before surprising you in bed with them. He had roused you awake and placed the tray on your lap before crawling back in bed beside you and kissing your lips.

“Happy anniversary my love,” he had whispered against your lips.

The morning had been spent enjoying his well-crafted breakfast with sleepy cuddles and a slow, sensual, naked dance beneath the sheets before he had to peel himself away with a promise that he would be home in time to make dinner.

With that, he had left, and you spent the rest of the afternoon fretting. Taeyong had made breakfast. A breakfast that didn't consist of cheerios or toast. He had taken the time to use his morning to whip up a breakfast fit for a king. And now he was planning on two meals in one day!

Your stomach churned uncomfortably, fear gripping your heart. One day, Lee Taeyong would realize that he was too good for you, and then he’d be gone. Off to find someone better for him. Someone like Doyoung, who he could cook with without supervision. Or maybe even someone like Johnny, bigger than him, that could hold him tight and ease away all of his worries.

You were useless. At least, that’s what your subconsciousness whispered in the back of your head.

~

As two pm rolled around, you were tired of moping. Taeyong deserved someone better. So you would become better. That would just require a little bit (a lot) of help from someone who knew their way around the kitchen.

The first person you contacted was Kun, but when he didn’t respond, Doyoung became the next best thing. Quickly, you sent the male a quick text because you had no idea who Taeyong was scheduled with today.

‘Do you have 127 schedules today?’

Doyoung didn’t take long to text back.

‘Yeah, why?’

Always one to get to the point. But you liked that about Doyoung.

‘Just curious, wasn’t sure who Taeyong was scheduled with today.’

You huffed. The simplest choice went out the window. Had Doyoung been free, you would have invited the male over and had him help you cook a gorgeous dinner. Although part of you was glad you had to go with plan b. Plan b wouldn’t get irritated and yell at you quite as easily as Doyoung would.

‘How’s my favorite Dreamie?’ you sent, hoping Dreams schedules were clear that day because you were running out of options.

‘Jeno’s doing fine? Why?’

‘I’m not talking about Jeno, you nincompoop!’

These boys were going to be the death of you one of these days.

‘Haha, I know, what’s up? What do you need?’

‘Why do you assume I need something?’

‘-.-’

‘Fine. I need your help cooking dinner for Taeyong!’

It took the boy longer to respond and you assumed his answer was no when your phone began to ring. When you answered, he didn’t even give you time for a proper greeting.

“Why do you need my help?” Jaemin asked.

You let out a huff. None of the boys knew your dirty little secret, but you knew Jaemin (or Doyoung for that matter) would help you without an explanation.

“Because I can’t cook to save my life! And he cooks all the time! And I just want our anniversary to be special! Will you help me or not?!”

“How are you dating Taeyong hyung without knowing how to cook?!”

“Jaemin!” you whined, red creeping up to your cheeks.

He let out a breathy laugh.

“I can’t come over. Our managers gave us the next few days off and Renjun and Jeno have barricaded us all in here, but I can help you over the phone!”

Not exactly what you had in mind, but with Jaemin helping you, what could possibly go wrong?

~

Later on that evening after deciding to make something relatively simple for Taeyong, Jaemin helps you create a grocery list and sends you on your way. Grocery shopping was the easy part. You were exceptionally good at shopping. It was when you got back home that your hands began to clam up as you stood in the center of the kitchen, trying to mentally prepare yourself for whatever was about to happen.

Your phone rang in your pocket as you were shakily pulling a pan out, placing it on the stove. You fished out your phone and answered, Jaemin’s face popping onto your screen.

“Ready to get cooking?” he asked, a wide grin spreading across your face.

“I’m nervous,” you mumbled.

“Oh come on! You’ve got me here to guide you! It’ll be great!” you promised.

Hopefully, he was right.

“Ok so the first thing you need to do is heat up the pan over the stove. While that’s heating, start chopping the vegetables. Just be careful!”

Nodding, you turned on the stove. When nothing happened to sabotage you this early in the game, you let out a sigh of relief and set out chopping all of the vegetables that you’d bought, preparing a hearty, healthy, but tasty dish for the man that never ceased to give you everything you desired.

“Ok, now get the meat out of the fridge and put it in the pan.”

Nodding to him, you slid on a pair of rubber gloves and pulled the hamburger meat out of the refrigerator. Ripping open the packaging, you dumped the red meat into the now sizzling frying pan and let out a small sound of joy when you succeeded in not making too big of a mess.

“Great now-” there was a knock over the line and Jaemin’s attention turned from you to the door.

“What?” he asked.

“We’re going out to the sports bar down the road. Wanna come?” Jeno’s voice asked in the background.

Jaemin let out a whine in the back of his throat.

“I promised (y/n) noona that I’d help her make dinner for Taeyong hyung.”

“Sucks to be you!” the door slammed and Jaemin turned back to you looking like a kicked puppy.

Your heart clenched. Not only did you have to elicit Jaemin’s help in the first place, but now you were keeping him from spending time with his friends and having fun.

“Explain to me everything that I need to do and go,” you offered.

His face lit up immediately and he opened his mouth to speak before freezing.

“But I promised…”

“Jaemin, it’s not that big of a deal! I’ve got this,” you said, hoping he couldn’t hear the way your voice wavered at the doubt creeping into your soul.

“Ok so…” and he rattled off instructions, letting you write them down.

“Now are you sure you can do this?” he asked.

You nodded even though you were positive you couldn’t do this.

“Ok! Good luck! And Taeyong hyung is going to love it!”

With that, the call ended and you were left alone with a pan of rapidly browning hamburger meat and a pot of boiling water.

“Ok (y/n), you got this,” you whispered to yourself.

~

You didn’t have this. In no way, shape, or form did you have this!

The meat browned too quickly, and while you were trying to get it off the heat, the pot of water boiled over, sizzling and fizzing on the burner You slightly burned your hand in a rush trying to get the lid off of the pot of noodles, but while you were fighting with it, the smoke alarm went off, blaring loudly through the house. Frantically, you trembled as you tried to quiet down the alarm before you realized why it was going off.

The meat had become a dark brown lump emitting thick black smoke that pillowed toward the ceiling. With a little screech, you grabbed the pan of meat and hurled it into the empty sink, rapidly turning the water on and letting it spill over the now ruined meat as you turned back to turn off the stove. However, before you could, the water was boiling over the sides again.

By the time you got the water in the pot to settle, your hair was a mess atop your head and tears had gathered into your eyes at the mess of a kitchen. Water was still running over the burned black meat. The noodles in the pot had secured themselves to the bottom of the pot, refusing the budge, and the vegetables you’d put in the oven to roast had gotten done while everything else had gone wrong. Now they sat on top of the stove crispy with an aftertaste of coal.

Dinner was ruined. But perhaps you’d still have time to order takeout before-

You heard his keys jiggle in the door and your heart dropped to your stomach. Not only had you not succeeded in making one simple meal, but Taeyong was going to see just how awful you were in the kitchen.

You sank to your knees on the floor, leaning against the cabinets under the sink and drawing your knees to your chest, burying your face in your hands as the tears flowed easily now.

“Honey! I’m ho-”

The first thing Taeyong noticed was the smell. The bitter, burnt scent of burning food making his nose crinkle in distaste.

“Babe?” he asked, stepping further into your shared apartment, closer to the kitchen where the smell was coming from.

When he entered, the sight broke his heart.

You were trembling on sobs below the sink, quiet whimpers leaving your lips that only got worse as he moved closer to you. Water was running over a pan of burnt something in the sink and the pot on the stove was scorched. The vegetables on the over pan looked like shriveled prunes.

Slowly, so as not to make you more upset, Taeyong made his way over to the stove and quickly switched off the two burners and the over, all of which you must have forgotten to turn off.

When the stove was handled, Taeyong took another look around the kitchen. Your phone was sitting on the counter by the stove, a piece of paper with hastily scratched instructions beside it. There was an old sweater hanging over the back of the table chair that you must have used to calm the smoke detector that was now dangling from the ceiling by a single wire. The refrigerator was slightly ajar and making a small dinging noise until he pushed it closed. You were crumpled on the floor in the center of all of the chaos, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened.

With a small sigh, Taeyong moved closer to you. He leaned over you to switch off the water pouring onto the burnt pan before lowering himself to the floor and wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Baby, did you try to cook for me?” he whispered.

He already knew the answer to that, but he wanted to hear a response from you. When you only nodded, another whimper leaving your lips, he pulled you into his arms and placed a kiss on your head.

“Why baby? I told you I was going to cook.”

“You cooked breakfast,” you mumbled.

“So?”

By now he was very confused. You never offered to cook. He just assumed you didn’t like to or couldn’t, which seemed to be the case.

“You deserve someone who can cook for you,” you muttered. “You always have to cook and I’m just useless not being able to.”

Taeyong was left speechless for a solid 30 seconds before he was pulling you into his lap, carefully spinning you around to face him.

“You are not useless. Baby, you give me warm hugs and kisses when I get home. You let me be the little spoon some nights when I’m exhausted. You draw baths for me and hold me while I relax. You are anything but useless. You do so much for me that I enjoy cooking for us when I get home. Even when I’m tired I love it. I love seeing your face light up when you taste something you like or watching you bounce in your seat over your favorite foods. I don’t get to take care of you half as much as you take care of me. Let me cook for you baby. I love it,” he said, letting his thumbs gently stroke over your face as he wiped away your tears.

Your glassy eyes looked up to meet his and he was drawing you closer, planting a soft kiss on your water lips.

“I love you baby. And I promise, just because you can’t cook doesn’t make me love you any less,” he said, kissing your forehead.

You nodded and dove into him, letting your head rest against his neck, holding onto him as warmth washed over you.

“I love you too,” you muttered, finally feeling relaxed after hours of stress that came with cooking.

“Who gave you those instructions on the counter? Did they not offer to help you?”

“Jaemin. Kun was busy. Doyoung was with you. I obviously wasn’t about to call you, so Jaemin helped me, but halfway through he had to go.”

Taeyong nodded and peppered kisses along your cheeks.

“How about we get dressed and go to the dinner where we had our first date? Then tomorrow, we’ll spend the whole day together. I might even help you learn how to cook!”

“You have tomorrow off?!”

“Mhm,” Taeyong cooed.

You jumped off his lap excitedly.

“That sounds perfect!” you grinned, dashing off to your shared bedroom to put on something other than sweats.

Laughing, Taeyong stood up and surveyed the kitchen once again.

You had the capabilities of cooking. That much was clear by the seasonings and well-chopped vegetables. Stress and distractions were your issues. And that, he could help you with.

With a smile, he made his way to the bedroom.

It didn't matter if you could cook or not. What mattered was that you were his. And if the ring tucked away in his pocket was any indication, he planned on making you his forever.

[kuroo-shitsurou]

Auxilium (College!Xiao x College!Reader)

TW: mentions blood, depression, anxiety

note: it's my first time writing and posting something on tumblr so im sorry if it's bad!! reader is gn hehe.

Late February was never a good time for Xiao.

It was the second month of the year; People were starting to adjust and adapt to the ever-changing and progressing timeline. Although, he never really understood the concept of the "New year, new me!" shtick. Humans make decisions that eventually shape their personalities. What does a new year have anything to do with that? Does a change in the year automatically make you a good person? Does it make you less of an asshole than you might already be? He never really understood.

He found it rather silly, actually. Whenever a new year rolls around, Xiao would mutter silent curses to himself because he'd write the wrong year on his papers. Other than that, there wasn't any significant changes he made in his daily routine. He was still the same Xiao; The same anxious, mildly depressed, and coffee-high art major Xiao.

Now, Xiao was a respected figure in their college (or at least, that's what he was told). He was one of the most talented artists at Tokyo University, and professors have been eyeing him for a scholarship overseas (he, along with his brooding and mysterious senior, Diluc). His keen eye for details always produce great results as most of his portraits are featured in the university's gallery of students' greatest works. Not to mention, one of his larger canvas works were displayed at the Tokyo Museum, making him one of the youngest artists to have their art showcased there.

Admittedly, Xiao was aware of how people admired his talent. Unfortunately, due to a rough childhood where his parents barely showed him any love and affection, he had trouble reflecting his true emotions onto other people. That's why other art majors often labelled him as a self-absorbed, egotistical prick.

Xiao was the last person you'd want to compliment. It's not that he'd be a dick about it or that he'd scowl at you and act as if he was better than you in every way possible. It wasn't like that at all. It's simply because Xiao doesn't know how to handle compliments. He'll still keep his stoic face, lips pressed in a straight line, but deep inside, he'd be flustered to bits. He'd try to internalize his reply, stitching together the right words to express his gratitude, but it would always take him a few minutes. The person who complimented him would've already left after he finally constructed the sentence in his head. Not that he wasn't used to it

This led to Xiao earning his current reputation, as stated earlier. He was already expecting the rest of his college years to be spent alone in his studio, working on his artworks during the wee hours of the night, high on the fumes of his paint palette and his exhausted coffee machine.

Until you came.

Kaoru was... eccentric. You were loud, you were moody. He felt like you'd be the type of person he'd hate dealing with just because you was unpredictable. You were like the rain, and Xiao hated the rain.

He must have an Archon's cursed tongue, because he got paired up with you during the first semester of their second year in college. You were a familiar name to him, as you were in the same course since the first year, but he barely knew anything about you since you were in different classes.

"Hey, Xiao! I'm _____. I hope we can be good friends by the end of the semester!" His memory of your bright smile still remains vivid in his head. He wasn't really a brooding type like Diluc, but Xiao liked to believed that he presented himself as a silent person who had no intentions of interacting with other people. So, how were you so bubbly around him? Because she was forced to do so? You were to be his partner for the whole semester, after all. Maybe it was all formalities. Yeah, that's probably it.

"Hm." Xiao gave a nod in her direction, acknowledging your existence. you heard from your friends that the young artist didn't have a pleasing personality, but you weren't expecting to be shutdown from the get-go.

"Mind if I sit beside you?"

Again, a light nod.

You felt the awkward tension between you and Xiao, and you hated it. You were a person who hated it when people are uncomfortable in your presence. You didn't want to be a bother, and you did your best to make everyone like you. Not that you were a people pleaser, nor an attention hog, but you just wanted to get along with everyone.

The lecture was going to begin in twenty minutes, so the lecture hall was yet to be filled with people. You took the opportunity to strike up a conversation with the amber eyed man beside you, who was typing away on his laptop. Something about color theory and how it affects the perspective of people on different art types? You couldn't really see that well. He was a fast typer.

"So, Xiao, I heard that your painting was displayed in the Tokyo Museum last year. It must have been an honor. I was at the unveiling last year and I saw it up-close." You started off, testing the waters.

"And what did you think of it?" Xiao cringed internally. He meant to genuinely ask for your feedback regarding his art, but it sounded so harsh that he wanted to punch himself when he saw you wince (or maybe you shuddered because it was cold and you were wearing a sleeveless top? His nerves were getting the better of him at this point).

"Well, a lot of my friends told me that it wasn't anything special,"

Ouch.

"It was a large canvas. I can still remember how it looks. But, maybe that's because I'm at the museum every two weeks," You laughed. You noticed how Xiao's breathing noticeably changed after you started your sentence, and you have to admit that it sounded a bit too mean.

"You know, Xiao. My friends told me that your art was simple. Anyone could have done it. But honestly, they couldn't be more wrong. I love how your piece was painted. Auxilium. I'll never forget what you called it. That's... Help, right?"

At first, Xiao didn't want to listen to this person ramble about an art piece he made during one of the lowest points of his life.

His anti-depressants had run out during that one Christmas. It was 2:47 in the morning. He had morning classes the following day. He had a project to submit, but he was unable to continue working because of the unbearable pain in his chest. His head was throbbing. Voices were invading his mind. Flashbacks of his parents' negligence taunted him. He rushed to grab a glass of water, chugging it down in almost three chugs. He slammed the glass back onto the counter, smashing it into tiny little splinters and cutting himself in the process. His hand was bleeding, there were bits of glass on his counter and on his floor, but he couldn't care less. He was heaving, his breathing was unsteady, he wanted to die right then and there. His vision became blurry, but he rushed back to his studio.

With a bleeding hand, he picked up his brush and began to tear into his canvas. Not literally, but he started to create strokes onto the blank canvas. Different colors, different textures (he swore some of his blood got blended in with the area where he painted the sunrise, but it's fine. No one was going to notice, right?). He screamed and cried, wanting to throw the entire easel out his window.

It was Christmas. He was alone in his apartment. His anti-depressants ran out. He was having a panic attack.

That night led him to having one of the worst breakdowns he could remember, but he also ended up with a gorgeous painting that nabbed him a place in the Tokyo Museum.

"Help," Your voice echoed in his ears, snapping him out of his trance.

"People can tell me that it's nothing more than a simple painting, but the way that the sunrise was only showing in a segmented part of the canvas? The way that there were hints of red? It kind of reminded me how a new day can resemble hope but still contain hurt. Like, the promise of a fresh start isn't guaranteed a good one, right?"

Your words rang in his ears like a gong being hit continuously. He wanted to cry. People always complimented him and congratulated him about being recognized by art critics and national museums, but none of them ever really stopped to talk to him about his art. They were there for his recognition- not his work.

"I mean, you could begin with a fresh start, but wouldn't the remnants of yesterday still take a toll on your tomorrow?"

"Hm. Interesting take. To be honest, those specks could have been my blood." Xiao spoke up, to your surprise. A small smile formed on your face. Maybe this guy wasn't so bad after all.

"My hand was cut up when I was painting that," He added quietly, not mentioning why his hand was in that state. "I think I accidentally added too much concentrated red. I couldn't blend it out the way I originally planned."

"Oh? But that makes it all the more great, though!" You beamed, "Maybe it was an Archon guiding you? I don't really believe in that stuff, but acknowledging some divine intervention once in a while can't be all bad, no?" You laughed.

"I guess you're right." For the first time in a while, Xiao actually gave someone else a small smile. It wasn't really a smile per se, but his lips curved even the slightest bit upward, and you decided that it was a win for you.

-

Fast forward to the second semester of their third year.

Late February was never a good time for Xiao.

It was the second month of the year; People were starting to adjust and adapt to the ever-changing and progressing timeline. Although, he never really understood the concept of the "New year, new me!" shtick.

It had been years since he was clinically-diagnosed with mild depression. So, why was he still that way? Shouldn't new years help him be a better person? Or something like that. Why was he still like this?

Late February meant the end of one semester, and the start of another.

What else did that mean?

His semestral feedback report (he refused to call it a report card. What was he, high school?).

"Xiao? Are you here? I bought almond tofu from Xiangling's place. Sorry for barging in, you weren't answering my calls." He heard your voice from the kitchen and he glanced at the clock on his studio's wall.

1:37 AM.

You were at Xiangling's place because you were working on a report about the history of acrylic paints or whatever it was. You were supposed to go home, but you still dropped by his apartment. He checked his phone.

[ 14 missed calls. ]

Yikes.

"I'm here." He answered meekly, but loud enough for you to hear. He felt tired. Defeated, maybe. He was blankly staring at the canvas in front of him. He has sketched the base of your face and upper body. He was planning on painting a portrait of his beloved to decorate his room with, but he couldn't find the energy to continue.

He could hear the soft "thud"s of your feet walking from the kitchen towards the studio, but he tuned it out with an annoying static he could only hear in his head.

Fuck. Where are they?

He rushed to the drawer next to his easels and rummaged around in a panic.

Where the fuck are they?

He kept a few anti-depressants in his studio because he spends most of his time here and he didn't have time to rush to the kitchen to get them if he ever got a panic attack.

"Fuck!" He cursed loudly, throwing the contents of his desk onto the floor. Some of his paintbrushes scattered on the wooden floor of his studio, marking the wood various colors. Maybe they're going to stain, but he didn't really care.

Xiao heard the footsteps retreating until he couldn't hear anything else except the constant ringing in his ears. It was annoying. It was loud. It started to make him want to split his head open.

"_____," He whispered, feeling his chest hurt and his throat tighten. The passageways helping him breathe seemed to close themselves, giving him a hard time and mocking him. It was coming back again.

Tears started to flood his vision, and they rolled down his red cheeks. He took the ponytail out of his hair and used two hands to tug at his locks starting from the roots. His breathing patterns became more erratic, but he tried his best to stay calm.

His knees and legs felt like jelly. He had to lean against the desk to avoid from toppling over.

Why? Why again? Why now? Why when you were here?

He screamed. It was loud enough for the neighbors to hear, but his care for any external entities was out the window the moment his eyes became blurry with tears.

Even though he was leaning against the desk, his legs still couldn't hold the weight of his entire body. His knees dropped to the floor, and he swore he must've dented the wood below, but he paid no mind to it. His knees were also aching, but he could deal with that later. He bent down and pressed his forehead to the floor.

"_____," He whispered again, longing for his partner. "Auxilium."

"Xiao?" The voice was muffled. His eyes were glued to the floor in front of him, but he knew it was you.

"Xiao, stay with me, honey." There was a hint of panic evident in your voice, but he was glad that you didn't let that get the best of you. You was still somewhat calm.

You kneeled down beside him, helping him back to an upright position.

"Honey, you left these on the counter outside." You handed him two tablets of his anti-depressants, and he gladly placed them in his mouth. You also gave him a glass of water, and he downed it in two swift gulps. Afraid that he might underestimate his strength, he returned the glass back to you instead of setting it down himself, nodding at you in the process.

You got into a more comfortable position where you rested your back against the wall, and you guided Xiao to follow you. It was a difficult task; He was very sensitive during his panic attacks.

His semestral feedback reports always made him anxious. He didn't have to please his parents anymore since he moved out years ago, but Xiao had this nagging feeling inside of him to do better with his academics. Nobody was really pressuring him to be a straight-A student, but did he feel like he needed to be? Who was he trying to prove himself to anyway? You knew about his sever panic attacks and how they were more active if he had a big event coming up. The first time you had to deal with it, you were still stiff and trying to learn how you could help. Now, you takes pride in yourself for being able to handle him in the ways you know would help him the most.

"Here you go, I've got you." You cooed, assisting him with moving. You laid his head flat on her lap and she began stroking his beautiful, tousled forest green locks. The highlights he had under the first layer of his hair started to fade, and you made a mental note to take him to a salon so they could get their highlights redone.

"You know, I've been listening to a lot of Coldplay lately," You started speaking, as if Xiao wasn't about to have a full-on panic attack. "Yellow would have to be one of my favorite songs. I guess it's kinda cheesy, but can you blame me?"

You used your free hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

"Look at the stars, look how they shine for you." You began singing, voice just above a whisper.

"And everything you do. Yeah, they were all yellow."

Xiao was a reserved person who had a hard time dealing with other people because of his inferiority complex that sprouted when he was young.

"I came along, I wrote a song for you."

He didn't have love and affection growing up. He didn't know how to be the best person to talk to. He had poor communication skills. He was a mess, to be honest.

"And all the things you do. And it was called yellow."

You were the first person who looked past his rough and tough exterior. You were the person who showed interest not just in his name- but in him as a whole.

"So when I took my turn, what a thing to've done."

"Thank you," He murmured silently, noticing that the ringing in his ears vanished. His throat was beginning to open again, and he could finally feel the steady heartbeat he had in his chest.

"And it was all yellow."

Xiao curled himself into a ball, burying his face in your clothed stomach. You smelled a bit like smoke (maybe you ate yakiniku at Xiangling's?) and your faded cologne. It smelled like home. It washed a sense of relief over his entire being. He felt safe. He felt secure. He was being held like a child, but he didn't really mind. Maybe he needed this.

"Your skin. Oh yeah, your skin and bones,"

You craned your neck downwards to look at Xiao's figure. He finally looked peaceful. You knew about his rough past. You knew about the trauma he had to go through, but you chose to look past it because you knew that he was just afraid and... alone. He needed someone to be there for him, and you would rather the world die than leave him alone ever again.

"Turn into something beautiful."

You noticed how his chest started a rhythmic pattern of ups and downs. His breathing was finally steady. He looked at peace. He looked like he was right at home.

"Do you know? You know I love you so."

You couldn't help but chuckle as you watched him sleep in your lap. How could anyone think that this softie was an asshole?

"You know I love you so."

You barely whispered the last part of the song, but it was loud enough for his heart to hear it. Xiao hated when things were unpredictable; that's why he hated the rain. But now, maybe the idea of rain wasn't so bad. Especially since you were his rain.

"I love you, Xiao."

At that moment, you knew that the involuntary smile on Xiao's face was a response that contained more emotions than his words could ever bear.

"I love you too."

[youarejesting]

Wash Out.22

[Master List]

Banners: @purpleskies1999 Pairings: Dolphintrainer!Taehyung x SharkDiver!Jin,  Mer!Jimin x Reader, Scientist!Namjoon x MerKing!Jungkook, Mer!Yoongi x Mer!Hoseok. Rating: 16+ Genre: Mystery, Romance, Comedy, Drama, Fantasy, little bit of Action, Slice of life, Enemies2Lovers, Friends2lovers, Social media au, Fake Texts, Fake Subs.

Summary: Taehyung and his best friend Y/N are Dolphin trainers at Wash Out; Marine Wildlife and Theme Park. When the nerdy marine biologist and resident veterinarian Doctor Kim Namjoon goes missing; the two friends form a ragtag team with Taehyung’s rival Seokjin and a…. Fish?

[Prev] 

There was no limit to which Taehyung could grieve. But there was a limit to his bank account. The new CEO Tom was a kind man, offering them a chance to mourn their losses and collect themselves before returning to work. There was a small funeral and memorial for Mr Schmidt within the theme park. 

Although the employee’s were respectful they remained impartial to the change of leadership. With new management came more appropriate wages. 

Waking beside Y/n reassured him things would be okay. You were the only reason he got out of bed and Taehyung suspected you felt the same. Uncanny how the two of you were sporting matching puffy eyes and pink tipped noses. Taehyung gave a soft smile, you had been supporting him while he broke down assuring him that Seokjin would return. 

It was time to show Y/n that she had someone to lean on. Knowing you had lost the first person you had developed such a strong bond with. There had been a few before Jimin and there may be more to come, but like magic the two of you had a special kind of love. The rare kind that happens only to few.

Taehyung wondered what you were thinking, if you were really okay, or just saying you were because that's what people wanted to hear. Dressing quietly he noticed you stir out the corner of his eyes. Begrudgingly pulling yourself out of bed and getting ready in the bathroom.

The playful banter on the way to work became silent pondering of thoughts. Hands reaching for one another if those thoughts turned dark. Taehyung was grateful for the company, grateful for the silence. He had no pressure to act like things were okay when they weren’t.

In saying that pulling into the employee parking lot Taehyung cut the engine. Pulling the visor down to look in the mirror, he tested a small smile. Almost foreign and unfamiliar to him, the muscles seemed to have weakened.

How many days had it been? Two and a half weeks later, as the days passed any hope of Seokjin or Namjoon’s return dwindled extensively. 

“Tae, we should go in,” Y/n smiled hand ready on the door handle braced for work like it was war. 

“Yeah, sorry.”

The security seemed awkward greeting them, rightfully so they had been accused of stealing money from the theme park. It wouldn’t surprise them if everyone kept their distance. Dolphins on the other hand seemed to understand their feelings better than humans. Bubbles, Captain, Dolly and her new pup Hopster came up to greet them, sensing their mood and trying to cheer them up with little jumps, squeals and splashes.

It pulled soft genuine smiles from you both, it was mid practice when a voice called from the bleachers behind the show tank. “You know Joonie, I have never seen a dolphin show, but it looks pretty lackluster, the dolphins are doing all the hard work. The instructors don’t really feel committed to the show.”

“I think they have been having a rough week, maybe they might have lost someone close to them.” Namjoon said softly. “You can never know what someone else is going through without asking.”

“Should I go ask them?” Seokjin said, standing and strolling over, the two looked clean and fresh like they had just come back from a vacation and not the bottom of the ocean.

Taehyung had broken down in the water, crying as the dolphins playfully bumped him with their noses trying to stop his tears. You pulled yourself out of the water and ran over, hugging Seokjin. His whines echoing around the small amphitheater.

After practically suffocating Seokjin in a firm hug you pulled Namjoon in as well, he was surprised by the action. Probably because the two of you were never really close but unlike Seokjin he didn’t complain about the wet patches left on his clothes.

Taehyung had practically crawled out of the dolphinarium show tank, the dolphins wiggling on their bellies beside him on the small raised surface. Seokjin walked towards him sorrowful and compassionate, opening his hands for the young dolphin trainer and groaning when he was pulled into the knee deep water. Letting Taehyung clutch him tightly, his complaints ceased when he felt the younger man shaking in his arms.

“It seems you must have been suffering with me gone.” He tried to coax Taehyung’s head from where it had buried into his neck, but it only encouraged him to grasp tighter and bury his face deeper into Seokjin’s chest. “Hey, you can’t be crying like this, you are going to make me sad.”

“I thought you had died,” Taehyung whimpered voice broken and small, his hands clutching the soft sweater fabric pulled tight over Seokjin’s shoulders. Taehyung looked up, eyes wet, puffy and red for yet another time this week. “I thought I lost you, before I had a chance to tell you properly.”

“Tae, I can barely understand what you are saying,” Seokjin wiped his sleeve under Taehyung's nose, “You have to speak clearly, don’t ruin my good pants for nothing.”

Taehyung pulled him forward kissing him passionately. Taehyung was thrilled to have Seokjin back in his arms. He was unable to stop himself from slowly walking backwards more and more until he reached the edge of the water. Seokjin was too distracted by the kiss to realise until it was too late.

Pulling the older man into the dolphinarium and giggling when they resurfaced. “Ya!” Seokjin shouted, “We were going to dinner after this, I was dressed up and everything.”

Taehyung was apologizing, his grin never faltering as he chased a soggy Seokjin back to the locker rooms. The three of you emerged from the change rooms spotting Namjoon standing awkwardly by the entrance.

“Are you ready to go?” Y/n asked, slapping his back playfully, “I hear Seokjin is paying for dinner tonight.” 

“What, you wanted me to come to dinner?” Namjoon said his words, stumbling unsure and confused.

“You don’t want to come to dinner, Namjoonie-Hyung?” Taehyung grinned up at him, before the two of you took Taehyung’s car following Jin’s from the parking lot to the restaurant. It was a small barbeque place, it was a secret treasure known to only a few.

The drinks started flowing. Namjoon seemed awkward at first but he was soon laughing with the rest. “I have never really done this before.” He admitted sheepishly.

“Drank?”

“No, I haven’t had dinner with friends before,” His ears were pink and your smile fell, Taehyung felt like the worst person to ever exist. “I know Jin and I tried but there were always things getting in the way.”

“Hey, we are your friends now, we were just rude idiots. We didn’t know about how cool you were until Seokjin told us how special you meant to him.” Y/n explained pouring him another drink.

“You weren’t rude, I just am really awkward and I know I talk about crabs a lot. It isn’t the most appealing conversation people want to have.” Namjoon waved his hands trying to calm the sad looks around the table, “I am just happy you think of me as your friend.”

Seokjin gasped, pulling a small cloth from his pocket, “Jimin asked me to give this to you.” He placed the cloth in your palm and you opened it slowly. “He got back safely and was definitely worried if you were okay,”

Opening the cloth to reveal a necklace, a cream shell spiraling in a cone shape and in the opening fitting perfectly secure was a gold Pearl. Taehyung leaned over, taking the necklace and helping you secure it around your neck.

~

You were called into work early one morning by Namjoon, he said something was wrong with Dolly and her pup and he needed help. Taehyung was outside and you sleepily let them drive you across town. You were being pushed into the old marine clinic, Taehyung threw you some swimmers and pushed you into the change room.

Moving quickly you followed Namjoon who was talking about the pups condition seriously, “This is our last chance, just go in first and check on how he looks and appearance and then we will begin the treatment, make sure you keep him calm and make him feel safe.”

You nodded, slipping slowly until you were treading water by the catwalk, about to ask a few questions when you were pulled under by the ankle. Confused and scared, you spotted Jimin in the water, his face showing how happy he was to see you. He swam at you grabbing your waist and resurfacing. You started crying and you wiped your eyes laughing and coughing from the water you had partially inhaled in shock.

“I am leaking,” Jimin touched his cheeks and you kissed him happily. 

“How did you get here?” You sniffed, “We have to get you back to the water.”

“Hey, it's all good I have something special with me this time, it allows me to walk on the ground just like you. Our king Jungkook gave it to me. He says I can visit whenever I want, because you are my promised.”

[Prev] THIS IS THE END! YAY! I hope you enjoyed it.

Tags: @backinblack1967 @miriamxsworld @moccahobi​ @simplymemyself @a-gayish-unicorn @ella-mella @vjinfan23

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[sunfleurry]

II. 360˚

Click here for part 1

Disclaimer: I write stories and use Harry Styles as a face claim. In no way shape or form does my writing reflect how I perceive the actual Harry to be. These are my characters, the face is just a bonus!

Eden was unable to contain her laughter as she watched Yaz try to lift the barbell. The personal trainer wanted to test out a new pre-workout supplement that promised the ability to easily lift more than her personal record. Eden cackled as Yaz’s overly determined face started turning red, her arms straining against the bar that was not moving despite the girl putting her all into deadlifting it.

“Oi! Stop that before you pull something!” Eden heard before she saw Luca marching over, a look of amusement on his face.

Yaz immediately stopped, chest heaving as she stood straight and turned towards him. “I was just testing something out,” she sassed. “For science.”

The corner of Luca’s mouth twitched into a small smile as he shook his head in amusement. “Was it the shit Harry gave you?”

As if the mention of his name summoned him, Harry was already making his way towards them, close enough to hear Luca’s response. “I paid seventy for that stuff.”

Eden scoffed. “You got ripped off.”

Harry looked and narrowed his eyes playfully. She bit her lip as her smile grew, always feeling annoyingly giddy whenever he looked at her. Eden had been working out with Yaz for a week at the new gym. She didn’t think she would ever admit that she loved weightlifting yet, she loved the feeling of empowerment it gave her and she could already spot newbie gains along her figure. Yaz reassured her that over time and with an increase in the weight she was lifting, she would start noticing even more progress. 

“She’s right,” panted Yaz, still catching her breath.

“Come on,” Luca chuckled, putting an arm around her. “Let’s get you some water.”

Eden watched as her trainer and the receptionist walked away, leaving her and Harry alone.

She not only became friends with Yaz, but she got to know Luca and Harry even more after discovering they were best friends. Before her sessions with Yaz, she would stay at the front and talk to Luca, and sometimes Harry would join them on his breaks. They were childhood friends who grew even closer when Luca’s parents decided to go back to their home country, leaving the then eighteen year old to look for a new roommate who subsequently became Harry.

Movement caught her eye and she looked over to find Harry crouched and unloading the bar Yaz had been using. Not wanting to feel useless, she bent over and started pulling the plates off from the other end, the two of them working in silence.

Harry finished his side and watched as she struggled to remove the last one—the heaviest one. He waited for her to ask for help, but she never did. He looked on in amusement as she struggled to remove it, arms tugging at the plate that would not budge. Finally, he said, “Need help?”

Eden sighed, arms sagging in defeat. “Yeah,” she grumbled.

Harry chuckled and she took a step back as he took her place and easily slid the plate off the bar. Eden would be lying if she said her eyes didn’t linger on the way his biceps strained against the t-shirt as he heaved the weight and racked it without breaking a sweat.

“You’ve been training with Yaz for a week,” he smiled. “Don’t beat yourself up too much. You’ll be able to do that within a month, trust me,” he winked.

Eden raised an eyebrow. “Don’t act like you didn’t need the help of that seventy dollar supplement to lift it.”

Harry’s jaw comically dropped. “Take that back.”

Crossing her arms, Eden smirked, refusing to entertain his request.

He took a step forward, close enough that she had to crane her neck to keep eye contact. “Take that back,” he repeated.

Eden forced her face to stay neutral, not wanting to give away the effect his proximity had on her body.

“Did I bruise your gym bro ego?”

Harry’s head fell back, exposing his throat as he laughed, amusement written all over his face when he looked at her again. “So thats how it is, huh.”

She grinned and took a step away from him. “Not sure what you mean.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get changed,” she said. “I’m going home.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair as he followed her. “I’m clocking out, let me walk you.”

Eden reigned in her smile. “Meet me outside in five?”

Harry offered her that smirk that had her swooning anytime it was directed at her. “Deal.”

...

Eden hugged Yaz goodbye with a promise to see her the next day and high fived Luca on her way out of the gym. She really loved her new friends. They had a lot in common and talking to Yaz felt like talking to a friend she’d known her entire life.

They’d even planned to go on a shopping trip the next week. Eden let her love for fashion slip and Yaz didn’t hesitate to ask for help in choosing a dress for her cousin’s wedding. Of course, Eden happily agreed. She looked forward to growing her friendship with her personal trainer.

Upon exiting the gym, she was hit with an unexpected chill and zipped up her coat to protect herself from the winter cold. She spotted Harry waiting to the side and smiled when he waved her over as she slipped on her mittens. Shouldering her bag, they started walking down the road towards her neighbourhood.

“Let me hold your bag.”

“No.”

“Eden…”

“Harry…”

“I can’t let you walk around with that mammoth.”

“I’m more than capable of—”

“I know you are,” he stressed. “But let me be a gentleman.”

Eden’s eyes narrowed at him but they softened upon seeing the look on his face. 

“Please?”

She sighed and handed him her bag, doing her best to hide how her body relaxed from being relieved of the weight. If Harry’s smirk was anything to go by as he looped the strap up his arm, she knew he caught it.

“You didn’t drive?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I also live in student housing.”

She peered at him in shock. “You go to uni?”

“Why is that so surprising?” He smiled.

“It’s not,” she said quickly. “I just thought you worked at the gym full time.”

He shook his head, waving in thanks to a driver who let them cross the street. “That’s just to pay for tuition, I’m in my fourth year of computer science.”

“Wow.”

He chuckled. “Surprised I’m smart?”

Her eyes widened, redness blooming along her cheeks. “No, I...”

“I’m joking, Eden,” he laughed.

Her heart leaped in her chest when he rested a hand on her lower back, gesturing for her to walk in front of him as they passed a couple walking their dog.

Clearing her throat, she paused to let him catch up to her before she started walking again. “So, why personal training?”

He didn’t answer for a few seconds and when she looked at him, he had a contemplative look on his face.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to...”

Harry nudged her shoulder with his, throwing her a smile. “I’m just trying to figure out how to say this but, well, I was pretty insecure about the way I looked when my flatmate stole my girlfriend and—”

She gasped, “Luca?!”

“No!” Harry laughed. “There was three of us at the time, but then the asshole moved out.”

“Oh…” Her shock deflated. “Well, that would have been awkward.”

He threw her a pained look, nodding his head slowly. 

“What happened?”

“That’s it really. She said he’s better looking, ghosted me, never talked to me again.”

“What a bitch!”

“He said they’d been hooking up throughout our relationship.”

“What a dick!”

Harry barked out a laugh, amused at her obvious dislike to the faceless strangers she just found out about. “Like many eighteen year olds, I got insecure. Started asking myself what he had that I didn’t. So, I started working out and…”

“Revenge body,” Eden nodded.

He chuckled. “Sure, you can say that. And like all cliches, she saw me a couple years later with my…” He lifted his arms up to flex his biceps, and although they were covered by his thick coat sleeves, Eden had an idea of what they looked like at that moment.

She rolled her eyes and playfully shoved his shoulders. They both laughed at his ridiculousness. “Please. Don’t tell me you took her back.”

He scoffed. “You think so low of me? I politely told her to go fuck herself.”

It was Eden’s turn to chuckle. “Poor girl. Actually, no, she deserved it. She never deserved you.” They stopped at an intersection, waiting for the light to turn green.

When Harry didn’t say anything, Eden looked at him and was taken aback by his eyes already on her, studying her face. She lifted a mitten-covered hand to the corner of her mouth, suddenly insecure. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

He cracked a smile. “No,” he said. “I’m just happy I met you.”

She bit her lip, unable to tear her eyes away. “I'm happy I met you too.” She couldn’t breathe as his smile widened at her words, then the traffic light beeped, indicating it was their turn to cross the street. 

After a minute, she said, “So you decided to get certified and help others with their revenge bodies?”

“I just fell in love with training and I thought, why not make money while doing something I love?”

“And here I was thinking you were trying to be Khloe Kardashian.”

Harry shook his head in amusement. “Still working on my arse,” he said, making her laugh.

They walked in comfortable silence the rest of the way until Eden stopped in front of an old student house with a beat up Honda in the drive way. “This is me,” she said, rocking back and forth on her heels. “Thank you for tagging along. This was… nice.”

Harry’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, nice.”

“Okay well, I’m just going to…” She pointed to the front door behind her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked, holding her bag out for her to take.

“Ye—”

She stepped forward to grab her things and slipped on the icy concrete, bracing herself with a yelp for impact with the ground. With eyes shut, she felt warmth envelop her as strong arms wrapped around her form, saving her from the embarrassing fall. 

Wide eyes met wide eyes as they looked at each other, and she chuckled, breathless. “I didn’t see that.”

Harry breathed a laugh, but didn’t let her go. Her heart raced when she saw the look in his eyes, and it was then that she took in the proximity of their faces. Even under all the layers, she could have sworn she felt the heat of his body against hers. When his head moved, just a fraction, it was enough for her to notice.

She closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to feel his mouth on hers. She waited, and when he was close enough to feel his breath on her lips, alarm bells went off in her head and her mind suddenly went into overdrive. Her eyes shot open, and she put a hand on his chest as a silent request for him to stop. What was she thinking?

Harry cleared his throat and slowly let her go, backing away and giving her the space he knew she was asking for.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, eyes intently trying to make out what she was feeling by the look on her face.

She panicked. “No, Harry, I…” Eden didn’t know what to say or how to fix whatever had happened. She didn’t want to upset him and—

Harry braced his hands on her shoulders, stopping her imminent panic. “Hey,” he smiled. “It’s okay. Nothing to feel bad about.”

She exhaled loudly, forcing herself to look him in the eyes. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. She grabbed her bag from the ground and took a step away from him. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” She asked quickly, repeating his earlier question.

“Bye, Eden” he smiled again, but it didn’t meet his eyes.

She felt her shoulders deflate as he tapped her arm once and started walking away. That night, she didn’t get the best sleep.

***

Hello! Let me know what you think <3

Part 3

[oftenderweapons]

Mold Me New (5) — Kim Taehyung

A Small Town Swoons Story

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Frog — for now)

Wordcount: 5.2k

Genre: ceramic artist!Taehyung, divorced!reader, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Smut, Slice of Life

Rating: 18+

Hello to my readers!!! Welcome to the Small Town Swoons Universe!🥰✨

In this episode: Frog gets to see the final results of her hard work. Taehyung, feeling extremely proud of her, is in the mood for celebation. He invites her for dinner, but eventually the lasagna in the oven is not the only tthing getting hot — and the cheesecake is not the only sweet thing on the menu.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: swearing. mentions of alcohol. smut: making out, grinding, humping, groping (ass, breasts) hair tugging, fingering, very soft overgrown teenagers being inappropriate and horny and tenderly feral on the sofa. Also cramps cause topping ain't easy folks.

A special thank you to @taegularities, my cutest, most adorable, Taehyung stan, The Radiant Rid. I love you, babe. Can't wait to read your next masterpiece 💕

In case you like my writing, here is my directory for idol!AUs, scenarios and imagines. And in case you need it, here’s the Spotify music companion.

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

Enjoy 💜✨

You were falling for Kim Taehyung.

This was by far an undoubtable truth, like the butterflies in your stomach, like the softness of his hair and the plump curve of his lip, like the excruciating, painfully perfect beauty of his face.

He was a gift to humankind, you realised.

You were sure that by now your heart eyes showed in a three-mile radius, and from the way he looked at you in return, you could tell the sentiment was somehow returned.

What made you insecure was his lack of initiative.

You noticed he enjoyed being on the receiving end — which had actually shown a few days before, when he’d fallen asleep in the comfort of your lap, you reading your book while he recovered from the stressful day.

You could still remember the soft golden light coming in through the window, the way his breath got heavy with sleep, his hand laying just an inch above your knee, growing clammy with sweat as he heated up under the blanket. And the feel of his fluffy locks under your fingertips.

He’d looked adorable, a gentle blush on his cheeks, his cherub face relaxing, chubby and plump with the sweet abandon of sleep.

His hands suddenly laid delicately atop yours. “The kiln has cooled up. Would you like to see?” Taehyung asked quietly, trying not to wake you from your reverie too abruptly.

“Oh, yes!” you replied as briefly as possible, hoping he didn’t catch you daydreaming while staring at him with a fond expression.

“Be very careful, they’re hot,” he said, lifting the top of the kiln slowly and letting the remaining hot air come out a bit at a time, without having to feel the heat hit his face.

“Are they going to be good?” you asked curiously. Not all your pieces had made it through bisque firing, and the idea of having something that actually looked like a finished, real work of art was getting you excited. You had been taking lessons for six weeks now and it felt about time to see some results.

“I think I can spot a good one,” he mused as he lifted the lid, bright blue glaze immediately catching your attention.

“Did the bowl survive? The one with the golden swirls? Please, tell me it did, I love it so much!” You felt ready to beg, pray, cry if something had gone wrong.

“It’s on the middle shelf. Be patient, you golden retriever,” he joked, wearing a pair of latex gloves to make sure the temperature was okay without damaging the glaze.

“It was my first to survive bisque, I am invested!” you argued back, peering from over his shoulder, noticing that your vase for Terry had survived.

“Vase accomplished, Frog. You should be excited about that one,” he said, moving it to a shelf. “It means you worked it nicely.”

You shrugged. It was one of your latest pieces, so you weren’t too surprised about it. Still, considering that shaping a vase with consistent walls is a feat in itself, you smirked. “You taught me well.”

“I did,” he replied, lifting a large, low bonsai plate. “Ready to see your bowl, Frog?”

“If anything happened to it, I’m going to kill you.”

Taehyung turned to you, grinning, his nose scrunched in a way that made you sure you would never lift a finger on him.

Your eyes closed: because you were nervous about the bowl, you told yourself — not because you couldn’t stand Taehyung’s expression without pressing your lips to his.

He lifted the shelf from the kiln. He turned to look at you.

He did not resist.

It was like you were waiting for him to kiss you, fist pressed underneath your chin, eyes screwed shut in excitement and fear.

He touched his lips to the apple of your cheek. Your eyes shot open, but the gentleness on his face calmed you. “Congratulations, miss Frog, you have a beautiful blue baby,” he declared in a very medical fashion.

You threw your arms around him, jumping up and down as you giggled hysterically.

“And she cheers for the bowl,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment. “As if she could mess it up after that vase.”

“Screw the damned vase, show me my baby,” you said, going grabby hands to the kiln.

“No, Frog. Wait,” he said, picking up the piece and bringing it to the table, you in tow like a tail-wadding, restless puppy.

“It’s so pretty,” you mused as soon as he set the bowl down. “It’s so sparkly. So glittery. Taehyung, it’s perfect,” you whispered in awe, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you turned to him.

Fondness overwhelmed him as he saw your amused look, so dreamy and happy and satisfied.

It was your baby. Your special creature. Selfishly, he felt like he had contributed to the creation.

For a second he thought that’s what it must feel like to be a father. “Watch over it while I finish the rest,” he said, taking a step away.

You grabbed his wrist.

He turned, waiting for you to explain.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice emotional.

He twisted his arm in your grip until his hand could reach for yours, engulfing it.

And right in that second, he felt he belonged. Somehow crazily, stupidly, innocently, he felt at home. “Anytime, darling.” He rubbed his thumb against your inner wrist before letting you go. He still had half a kiln to unload.

Bowls and mugs came out easily, some of them even presenting unintended variations that would for sure attract buyers. He felt proud.

But most of all, he wanted to go back to your bowl, to you worshipping it like a little miracle, the poor vase sitting unattended on a high shelf, out of harm’s way.

He closed the lid and took the vase, bringing it to you and placing it on the table.

“You did a very good job, Frog,” he complimented you, placing his hand close to yours, hoping to rekindle the affection he had felt only a few minutes ago.

“It’s not like I did it by myself,” you admitted, beaming up at him.

“Stay for dinner,” he blurted out, “Seokjin brought a cheesecake this morning, I still have half of it. And I have his lasagna in the freezer. We could cook it and eat that — I don’t trust myself making anything edible.”

You snickered. “You don't want me to cook?”

He shook his head. “I wanted to… To celebrate.”

You smiled, standing up, his mouth right before your eyes, “What are we celebrating?”

He looked at your lips as they moved. “The vase,” he replied seriously, although the tone of his voice meant a thousand other things.

“Of course,” you conceded. “Let’s go. I’m hungry,” you confessed, grabbing his hand, tugging at his arm.

Taehyung could swear he was floating a foot off the ground out of happiness. He realised he’d been happier than usual lately; he’d been selling more pieces and his part time job was finally giving him some satisfaction.

He felt like he was drifting across the kitchen as he put his phone in a wooden box as an amplifier, playing an old jazz tune as he put the lasagna in the oven.

You sat at the table, watching him move around with a small smile, your head leaning on your palm. You were such a sucker.

“Wine?”

You shook your head. “You’re gonna get me drunk,” you smiled.

He sat at your side, “why not,” he teased, “just vaguely tipsy. I promise I’ll be a gentleman.” He placed a hand on his heart and bowed his head slowly.

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” you murmured, looking down before meeting his eyes again.

He licked his lips. “Who is it, then?”

“Me.”

“What about you?” His fingers skimmed the surface of the table, sliding all the way to your elbow and tracing your inner forearm.

A shiver ran down your spine. “I get clingy. And slightly inappropriate,” you chuckled embarrassedly.

“I could never be bothered by that,” he whispered, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “I bet you’d look so adorable.” His hand opted to cup the back of yours before you slipped your hand away, making his palm touch your cheek instead, your face leaning in. “Which would make you absolutely irresistible,” he admitted, nodding fondly at your display of trust.

“Thank you,” you replied to the compliment, feeling your face heat up.

“Let’s lay the table.”

Let’s lay down and make out for three hours and fall asleep under the stars in the back of a pickup.

You gave your brain a second to calm down. “Sure. How can I help you?”

In twenty minutes, the tasty smell of lasagna began drifting in the air, making your mouth water as you and Taehyung talked about his other job — the one that actually paid the bills and brought food on the table. “I just love them, they’re adorable. I managed to practice when my granny used to babysit.”

You pouted, starry eyed as he talked about the children, going on and on about the five year old that always wanted to curl his hair and paint his nails.

Most of all, you loved the idea of him sitting on a baby chair, all curled up, giant hand sprawled on the table while the girl spread lacquer on his pretty nails.

“Your granny babysat?”

“She raised a few of us, yes, and then she was the babysitter for all the kids of the street,” he explained.

“I thought you grew up with your mom?” you said confusedly.

“Yes, we stayed with my mom until we turned four, but then she went back to her job and we started staying with my grandmother. And when I was ten, my mom started dating a good man. He’s one of the greatest people I know, but unfortunately, he was transferred out of state and my mom decided to go with him. I didn’t want to leave and my granny let me stay with her.”

You nodded, taking in more details about him. “Are you happy about the situation with your mom? Do you miss her?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. But I like seeing her happy. She got married and she’s safe. Her husband spoils her, he takes care of her and he’s well off. She won’t need to worry about her health.”

“That’s a good thing,” you nodded, getting startled once the timer rang.

“Thank God,” he muttered, getting an oven glove as you stepped away quickly.

Dinner was a quiet ordeal, with easy chatting and small pauses. Silence was more than welcome as you slipped into the quiet comfort of sharing a meal. It was all so natural, effortless. And the food was delicious, filling your stomach but also pleasing your tastebuds; Seokjin was famous for his culinary skills, but he really outdid himself with the cheesecake, so creamy and perfectly sweet that you asked for a second serving, Taehyung more than happy to comply.

You kept chatting as you helped him clear the table, washing the dishes while he dried them.

“Last one,” you called, rinsing a plate before passing it to him.

You watched him as he diligently dried it, your gaze meeting his in his peripheral.

You tried to find something to say as his stare focused on you, his hands placing down the plate as he fully turned towards you.

“What?” you murmured hesitantly.

“I might do something stupid,” he said, his voice deep and barely audible, his face getting closer to you. “But I haven’t done it in a very long time.” His hand landed on your waist. “Stop me if you find it outright idiotic.”

There was nothing idiotic in the way his mouth looked so inviting from up close, all its curves too inviting for you to stop staring.

The mole on his lower lip teased you in ways that made you want to throw yourself at him. You couldn’t even understand how the attraction worked, you were simply needy, praying for his mouth to finally meet yours.

“Close your eyes,” he breathed out, trying to find courage.

You followed his suggestion, putting yourself out of misery and standing on your tiptoes before leaning in, finally joining your lips with his.

He didn’t even pretend to keep calm, both arms wrapping around your waist as he held you, delivering a string of small pecks with his lips slightly ajar, offering you the soft plumpness of the inner flesh, vaguely humid and hot.

You loved it.

All you could do was exhale, a tiny cry leaving your throat as your vocal cords caught the breath leaving your lungs. Your hands flew to his hair, hiding in him as embarrassment set you aflame.

A low grunt echoed through his chest as he felt you tug the locks at his nape gently, your body pressing harder against him.

He tried to hold you back, not sure he was ready to admit the carnal way his body reacted to you. He wanted to be gentle, delicate, cautious, but the tightness of his trousers around his crotch was anything but.

“Darling, I need a minute,” he mumbled against your lips in an almost tickling motion.

“Just one more,” you replied, your voice so heated and thin.

He tutted. “Let’s not go too fast.”

You stood straighter and chased his mouth as he tried to retreat, your eyelids lowered as you stared at the sweet, tempting mole.

“Just one…” you whispered before sucking his lower lip, licking it with the tip of your tongue.

His hand moved to your tailbone, pressing you closer. Rational thought abandoned him as he pushed his tongue against the seam of your lips, rubbing it against your palate before letting it tangle with yours.

That’s when you noticed the hardness between your legs, his thigh slotted there comfortably as you pressed your hips to it, eliciting a moan from Taehyung.

“Sofa,” you murmured, trying to hold him to you as you walked backwards to the door.

“Wait,” he breathed out, trying to part from you, causing you to whine.

“Don’t go,” you said with a pout. “I need you,” you almost whimpered, touching his nape, his neck, his chest.

“I’ll be there in a second. Don’t go all cute grumpy on me, I just need to grab my phone,” he explained, unglueing your body from his. Reluctantly made your way to the kitchen door, waiting for him before heading to the sitting room, refusing to let him out of your sight anytime soon.

Once he’d pocketed his phone, he turned towards you, his eyes getting dark and lascivious as he studied your frame while you leaned against the door jamb.

He strolled casually towards you, your eyes following his sinewy limbs.

You realised you were eager to see him naked, the thought making you pause mid-breath.

Once he stood in front of you, his arm slipped between your back and the wooden frame of the door, holding you as he leaned down. “Smartest thing I’ve done in a while.”

“Even smarter if you’re gonna do me,” you quipped, biting your lower lip and cringing once you realised you had said it out loud.

He snickered and kissed you, your hips pushing forward to grind against him, his cock too hard and large for you not to notice it. His hand wrapped around your asscheek, helping you grind even harder, his lean, strong fingers squeezing and kneading your flesh deliciously. Carefully walking towards his destination, he helped you navigate the corridor in a slight penumbra, a thin ray of moonlight slashing the floor before he pushed the door open and entered the sitting room. The space was illuminated in a blue-grey light coming from the full moon shining outside the windows.

Haphazardly, you managed to sit down, pulling him with you, making him lose his balance and stumble a little.

“Are you okay?” you asked, worried about the stupefied look on his face.

“Yeah, just thinking how to…” he fixed his stance, wondering if he should pull you on his lap or make you lay down or…

“Come here,” you murmured, kissing the mole on his cheek. “I’ve got so many kisses to give you.”

“They’re all mine,” he cooed, turning adorable for a second.

You melted. “Yes, now come here, don’t make me beg.”

He turned and leaned into you, cupping your jawline and holding you still before he slipped his tongue across your mouth. “You’re too far like this,” he complained, ignoring the fact that your bodies were literally touching shoulder to ankle.

“Wait.” You quickly bent your legs underneath you, thankful for the no-shoes rule in his house as you sat on your heels. “Like this?” you asked as he mirrored the motion almost too rapidly, his body rocking dangerously.

He immediately realised his trousers were tighter like this. He tried to ignore it, his only goal being for his mouth to meet yours, feeling the hot, milky taste of your tongue that still held some memory of the cheesecake. “Come closer,” he breathed, hoping to get some friction, the softness of your breasts against his torso, crying out at how much he missed the stand-up position, allowing the front of his body to adhere to yours with alarming precision.

“Can’t get any closer,” you chuckled desperately. “Can I lay down?”

He nodded, he needed close.

You untucked your legs from beneath you, bending them at each of his sides. “We can go to my room—”

“I like it here,” you replied, tugging him into you, his eyes shooting open once he’d risked falling from the sofa.

You managed to catch him, thankful for the wide cushions of the seats. “Be careful,” you giggled fondly, kissing his brow, his nose, following his moles like fire flights. The whole night felt magical. It felt even more magical once you managed to get his playlist to play again, placing his phone on the ground and enjoying the round fullness of his backside.

“You really have hands made for pottery,” he mused as he kissed your brow, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your chin, the shell of your ear. “I like them there,” he confessed, pushing his pelvis against yours, meeting it mid-thrust and coaxing a whine from your throat and a growl from his.

One of his arms lifted from beside your head. “Can I?” he asked politely, letting it hover just a few inches over your breast.

“Please do,” you replied, leading his hand with yours, his wrist and fingers immediately catching up on how to grab it, squeeze it, roll it in his palm and toy with the nipple.

“Harder? Softer? Just like this?” he checked in, attentive and concerned.

“Just slightly harder,” you panted. “Slower too, please.”

His pace changed immediately, getting you to whine as you completely connected with his touch. The soft, slow massage was making you hyper-aware of every inch of skin, every single part of your breast, every nerve ending and hard edge and soft curve.

“I wanna take off my bra. Can I?” you asked in the heat of the moment.

Taehyung was vaguely confused for a second, so lost in the feel of you that he barely understood the question. “If you want that, I want that,” he replied, his breath laboured.

Quickly, you arched your back, Taehyung’s lips reaching the column of your throat and peppering it with soft pecks. “Do you need help?”

You tutted and moaned as his teeth scraped your skin lightly.

With some gymnastics, you managed to tug the garment out of your shirt, Taehyung moaning at the increased softness underneath his palm. “Goodness, they’re incredible,” he murmured, pressing his face against one, rubbing it as he turned his head side to side.

“Please, keep touching them,” you mumbled, your voice rough with the way you struggled to breathe.

He changed the arm propping him up, switching sides as he started to tease your other breast. “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” you managed to confirm before your hands grabbed his ass to push him against you.

He paused for a second.

“I’m getting out of control,” he warned you.

“And?”

“I’m gonna cum in my pants if we keep this up,” he confessed, purring as you nibbled his jaw. “Slow down, please,” he panted, lifting his hips away from you.

“Tae,” you called, breathing heavily, almost begging him.

“I want you a lot, ____, please tell me you do too,” he was almost feverish with need, his brow furrowed, his beautiful eyes glittering in the dark.

“Isn’t it clear?” you asked in return, trying to chase him on his retreat.

He tutted and pushed you down. “I want to hear it.”

“I want you, Taehyung. I need you. I want to see you lose control.” Your mind was gone, far far away, your brain malfunctioning as his curls tickled your upper chest.

“I don’t wanna go all the way,” he murmured, “I just… I just wanna—” he huffed out frustratedly. “I just want to make you feel good. And to feel you close to me.”

You bit your lip. “Maybe—”

“It’s not that I don’t want to make love to you. I really want to. But this is going so fast and I wanna savour every step. Take my time.” He pressed his forehead against your chest. “I just like you so much and I want you to know it means something to me.” He paused and you waited for him. “I don’t want you to think this is just a random thing to me, and I don’t want to be a random thing to you.”

“You’re not.” You cupped his cheek and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “We can take our time—”

“You must think I’m a coward,” he murmured, voice filled with self-hatred.

You held him closer, trying to convey all your affection. “No, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe with me. I get you, baby.” You rubbed the tip of his nose with yours. “Let’s take baby steps. We can just mess around. You want to make me feel good, and I you. No need to have sex to go there.”

He nodded. “I wanna keep touching you,” he murmured. “I wanna feel you with my hands.”

You blinked slowly, eager to feel his fingers on you, inside you. “That sounds great, baby,” you encouraged him, watching his shy smile and the gentle blush on his cheeks, out of exertion and shyness.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” he whispered in your ear before kissing the soft spot underneath it, his free hand moving down, from your breast to your stomach, slipping underneath your shirt, moving up against your naked skin.

You gasped once his palm cupped the underside of your bosom.

“Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “Feels very good,” you answered, caressing his hair out of his face, his eyes moving from your chest to your lips to your eyes.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked, reaching for your nipple with the pad of his thumb.

“Bless you, yes, baby. So good.” It was natural to trace his mouth with your finger, his lips parting to welcome it into his mouth. Your hips arched up, meeting his thigh to grind against him. You needed more pressure against your clit, your entrance clenching and widening as you felt wetness coat your folds uncomfortably. You refused to pressure him into leading his hand downwards, still you thanked several deities when his gentle fingertips started making their way to your belly button, dipping his digit in to study its shape, feeling all the ridges and tender skin. “It feels so cute,” he said after letting your finger out of his mouth, watching as you brushed it against your neck to dry it up. “I wanna make a little sculpture out of it.” He giggled. “Sorry, that’s so childish.” He shook his head.

“It’s adorable,” you replied, “it’s— Mmh, Tae. Yes.” He managed to scatter your thoughts across the universe once his fingers dipped into your jeans.

“Undo the button please,” he growled, reaching for the wet spot on your panties. “Darling dearest, you’re fucking drenched,” he said, a deep cry giving away just how desperate he was. “Can I get in your panties, precious?”

Mouth gaping, you nodded, an embarrassing mewl echoing across the room as he touched a slightly delicate spot. “That’s too sensitive,” you keened, a strangled purr leaving you once your back arched, his thumb relieving the disturbing pressure and wetness.

As slight friction began to build, Taehyung bit his lip, the vision of you so erotic and calming at the same time. It felt right, oh-so-right, to have you underneath him like that — maybe slightly overdressed, but adorably pliant and needy.

“Want them inside, darling?” he asked you, your head nodding yes quickly, without a shred of doubt. “Here, talk to me, sweetheart. Like this?” he murmured, waiting for your feedback.

“Yes,” was all you managed to utter, his digits hitting your sweet spot without even trying. “Rub there, please, stretch me,” you told him, guiding him as your hips started to roll, his thumb meeting your clit and causing a small whimper to exit your mouth before you clamped your lips around his neck.

“You feel amazing, darling. Soft and so hot and so velvety. You’re so dang slippery, it feels insane.” He kissed your head. “Want to make you cum so fast. I want to keep you up for hours like this, and then kiss you until you fall asleep. You’re spectacular, ____. I can’t take my eyes off you, my precious.”

You felt overwhelmed with the way he pushed his fingers inside you, pressing his long, strong, skilled, digits against your walls, stretching you so impossibly wide that you felt like you could probably fit four fingers in to the knuckles. But you didn’t have time to think much, simply arching your hips up and pushing your jeans and panties to your mid-thighs, trying to give him more space for action.

“Is the angle alright?” he checked in, binding his wrist a little lower, getting better leverage to finger you harder.

“Keep going like this,” you exhaled, your hand moving down, fixing his thumb as he struggled to find the right spot, “let me handle this, focus on the inside, please.”

He nodded and kissed your lips. “Sorry.”

You kissed him again. “No need to apologise— Yeah, right… there…” you said, starting to thrust up in earnest. “Clits are complicated but you’re doing so good inside,” you licked your lips, trying to ease the pain of them drying up with your and his breathing.

He bent down and chased the tip of your tongue as you ran it across your mouth, drinking in your soft hiccups and gasps as you neared your climax, his mouth crashing onto yours as you finally came apart underneath him, his kisses muffling your moans and cries.

Taehyung felt desperate as he slipped another finger inside you, giving you as much fullness as he could offer while you clenched around his digits, actually sobbing once you processed his generous offer.

It took you maybe thirty seconds before you could calm down, taking your fingers off your clit, whispering an “okay, slow down” to Taehyung, who halted the arching and pistoning of his fingers to simply press against your g spot and cup your mound with his palm.

“All good?” he asked, grunting a little as his arm cramped up.

“Yeah, are you?” you murmured back, noticing his wince.

“Cramp,” he huffed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Want me on top? You’ve strained yourself already as it is,” you scolded him apprehensively.

He shook his head and withdrew his hand from your crotch, cleaning his fingers with lewd, erotic swipes of his tongue. You felt ready to begin all over again. “I need to be on top,” he said, drying his hand against his t-shirt before propping himself up on both elbows before bending down, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I kinda want to grind on you, if you’re okay with it.”

Nodding, you helped your hips up, fixing your clothes back in place but also leaving your zipper and button open. “Clothes on?”

You felt his head move in an affirmative motion, his hips starting to press against you. “I know I must look like a teenager to you.”

“It’s adorable. Makes me feel very young,” you said before chuckling. “It’s been so long since I felt this good with anyone,” you confessed, holding him to your chest, assisting his motions by moving your own pelvis in a wavy pattern. “It’s so comfortable. So familiar and nice,” you whispered in his ear before biting it gently. “You make me feel like I’m not an utter mess in this attraction thing.”

“You’re not a mess. You just feel attraction differently.” He managed to gather his thoughts and words long enough to reply to you. He thought it was important for you to feel that it was okay, that he didn’t mind, that all he cared about was how happy he felt by your side. “You’re hot, you’re smart. And you’re so…” He grunted as he found the perfect angle and pressure, his high rushing towards him. “So magnetic. And good…” Another purr left his mouth as he started humping you in earnest, going so fast you doubted you would survive having him inside you, his torso crashing on you as he hummed and bit the crook of your neck, crotch attached to your thigh as he pushed, harder and harder, his glutes impossibly tight under your palms.

“Yes, baby. I’m here, Tae. It’s all okay, babe.”

“So good,” he rumbled, still hiding against you. “So, so good,” he moaned again, your face tensing in a kind, elated smile.

“Lay on me, baby,” you kissed the crown of his head. You felt as if you were on cloud nine, and it had little to do with the orgasm and the freaky show. You loved his tenderness, his gentle approach, the way he had checked in on you throughout the whole night, wide puppy eyes staring at you in focus and adoration and wonder. And the way he had asked to take it easy, the way you had felt no pressure, no need to search for attraction, but finding it there, in the way his hands felt familiar and welcome and so, so loving, in his face and his smile and his stupid, stupid, ridiculously fluffy hair. There was attraction and even though you had asked yourself why at the beginning, you didn’t dare doubt it now. It was just like oxygen in your blood, like black holes and shooting stars and the moon phases. Undoubtable. Solid. Proven. Undeniable. It had become a main axiom to your existence.

I’m in love with Kim Taehyung.

It was like the world suddenly spinned the other way around. You let the revelation sink in, your hand running up and down Taehyung’s spine.

“You’re safe with me, babe.”

He nodded and nuzzled in closer. “Are you staying?”

“Yes, sweetie. You’ll be sleeping in my arms tonight, baby.”

You felt him smile against your neck before he found a comfortable position and closed his eyes.

Taglist is open

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

[archonanqi]

fragile as dust / 6

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6. to dream

    When you woke up the next morning, the sky was still dark through the curtains. You’d slept well again, although it was soured once more by the rising panic in your throat as you woke up. Reluctantly clambering from under the warm covers, you tiptoed to the door, cracking it open a little and peering outside. 

    Zhongli was not in the living room. You couldn’t tell if the resulting rush of emotions were from relief or disappointment. Was he still asleep? It was hard to imagine him sleeping — hard to imagine him ever vulnerable. You emerged from the room and noticed a note pinned to the door.

    In the most elegant scrawl that you’d seen in your life, it read:

    “I am on my morning walk. I have left you a spare robe and towels under the sink, should you decide to take a bath. I will return as quickly as possible.”

    At the bottom, inked in a scarlet name seal, was his name, and the characters “Wangsheng” — rebirth, whatever that entailed. Somehow, you weren’t even a little surprised that he had a fancy name seal stamp and used it to sign off memo notes with. 

    You scurried to the bathroom, taking longer than you would have liked to admit to figure out how to turn on the water — even his tap was vastly fancier than the one behind Wenqi Souvenirs that you tended to use sometimes. The water warmed almost immediately against the palm of your hand, filling the bathroom with hot steam. While letting the tub fill, you wandered over to the sink and opened the cupboard under it. As Zhongli’s note promised, there was a pristine white towel, and a neatly folded-up black robe. 

    Shaking it out, you marveled at how beautiful it was — it was clearly intended for a much taller man, yet it seemed like it might fit you. A golden trim ran down the edges of the black fabric, and the cloth itself seemed to glow under the dim light. Most strikingly, the material was astounding — it was the softest thing you’d ever touched. You buried your face into it, and oh—

    It smelled heavenly, of faint flora, warm spice and the soil after a light spring shower. 

    It smelled like Zhongli. 

    Before realizing it, you’d taken a deep breath with your nose pressed against the fabric. And another, and another. You didn’t understand it, but even though you had never known any of these things, the scent reminded you of stability, concord, and peace. 

    The sound of running water brought you back out of your reverie. The tub was close to overflowing, and you rushed to go turn off the tap, the robe now forgotten over the sink. 

    You peeled off the dress that was beginning to feel like an extension of your skin, and lowered your body into the water. The hot water made your skin prickle, but it seemed to drag the fatigue, exhaustion and anxiety right out of your marrow. 

    If Zhongli permitted it, you decided, you were going to have a bath every day. 

    As the heat soothed you in places that you didn’t even know had muscle, you glanced down at your body. The dirt and grime had come off into the swirling water, revealing yellow-purple bruises. You’d always known you were unsightly, a skinny bag of skin and bones and grime, but next to Zhongli—

    You hadn’t stopped thinking about what he’d said last night. Letting the water reach the top of your lips as you sank down, you wondered to yourself if you could believe him. Could you begin to believe that Zhongli had no intentions of hurting you, using you? You wanted to, certainly, but…

    “Hansi?” You froze at the sound of Zhongli calling your name from outside the door. Quickly, all of your prior thoughts forgotten, you leapt out of the tub, wincing as you sloshed water everywhere. 

    “I’m here!” you yelled back, haphazardly wrapping the towel around your hair, slipping into the fancy robe and running for the door. You stumbled into the hallway and immediately bumped into Zhongli — literally, although for a moment it felt like a brick wall you’d just bounced off of. You knew at once that under those three layers of clothing, he was nothing but muscle.

    Before you could land on your bottom and ruin his impression of you even more, Zhongli reached out and caught your shoulders, holding your body upright. His hands were rough and strong, but his grip against your skin was gentle, as always. Briefly, you wondered why his hands were so weathered — surely a nobleman like him has never had to work a day in his life.

    “Thank you for the robe,”, you scrambled to break the heavy silence, neglecting to mention just how many whiffs of it (of him) you had taken in the past hour alone. You felt your cheeks flush at the very thought. “It’s very comfortable.”

    Tilting his head, Zhongli considered you for a moment. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, “I presume that you found my note, then?”

    Looking up into his golden eyes, you nodded too quickly. “Yes, Mr. Zhongli. You have excellent penmanship—“ you trailed off, realizing too late the hole that you had dug yourself and fell headfirst into. Shit.

    Zhongli raised a brow, staring at you — through you. “So it seems that, contrary to your assertion yesterday,” he observed, “you can read, after all.” 

    A dozen possible excuses ran through your head, but his gaze demanded the truth. This was a reminder, you told yourself, a much-needed reminder that he was not your friend, that any familiarity or comfort you’d found in him was strictly your imagination — that he had played you like a gu’zheng and now that he had caught you in a lie— 

    “I— I’m sorry. I-I was— I was afraid—“ you began to stammer, but he raised his hand to stop you.

    “It is my hope, of course, that there are no lies between us,” Zhongli said, his gaze peering into the deepest recesses of your soul. For a chilling moment, you were sure that he knew about the Geo Vision pulsing away at the bottom of your bedside table. 

    There’s logically no way he could know, you told yourself to calm your frayed nerves. He hadn’t even entered your room since you’d arrived. No way he knows.

    “However, given the circumstances, I know that that’s not always possible.” Zhongli continued, glancing at his upturned palm, then back at you. “You can tell me the story behind your ability to read, and your reason for hiding it from me, when you decide you are ready.”

    “Oh,” you exhaled softly. Surprisingly (thankfully), your brain had ceased its habit of stumbling over ‘what?’s each time Zhongli bewildered you with his tolerance. “I— I am truly sorry for lying to you, Mr. Zhongli.”

    If you got a single Mora for every second Zhongli stared at you so intently that it felt like he was dredging out every thought, word, and secret from your head, you’d be able to afford a house of your own by now.

    “I can understand,” he finally said, an unreadable look on his face, “that certain situations sometimes leave us with no choice but the untruth. Now, are you feeling well enough for a trip to the harbor? As lovely as you look in my old robe, Hansi, we really must get you some of your own clothes.”

---

    On the way to the harbor, all you could think of was how he had called you lovely.

---

    If you hadn’t already been convinced that Zhongli was absolutely loaded, watching him shop would have sealed that deal. 

    “I’ll take it,” he said, for the third time that morning. You bowed your head to hide a grimace. Always haggle the price down to at least half of what was initially given when shopping in Liyue — even you knew that. 

    “Come now boss, surely someone as distinguished as you can tell that this vase is an authentic relic from the ancient civilization of Guili—“ The shopkeeper blinked. “Wait, you’ll take it?”

    “Yes.”

    “For forty thousand Mora?” Even the shopkeeper looked bewildered, eyes comically wide. You wondered for a brief moment if you should stop Zhongli from the most blatant scam you’d ever seen. Quickly, you shook yourself free of those stupid thoughts; who were you to tell him what to do with his seemingly infinite supply of wealth?

    “That was the agreed upon price, was it not?” Zhongli said, picking up the vase with a practiced gloved hand. “Invoice it to Wangsheng funeral parlor, please.” 

    There it was again, Wangsheng. That’s where you knew it from. The funeral parlor passed down to the generational head of the wealthy Hu family. You wondered what connections Zhongli had with one of the most powerful families of Liyue. Even having lived with him for three days, he had stayed as much a mystery as the moment you laid eyes on him in that teahouse. 

    As Zhongli spoke to the merchant — no doubt being conned into buying a second vase at twice the price now that the merchant knew of his financial status — you glanced around the store. It seemed to have a little of everything, even dusty weapons on a rack in the back corner. It reminded you that although you’d been kept safe so far, the peace would not last. Not for someone like you. 

    Something glittering on one of the racks caught your eye. It was a necklace, its silver chain appended with a beautiful blue charm, catching the sunbeams in an iridescent bloom. You glanced at Zhongli — oh Archons, was that a third vase he was looking at? — before inching a little closer to look at the necklace. It wasn’t just a charm, you realized — the blue gemstone had been shaped into an intricate blossom. The handiwork it must have taken to carve something so detailed, so gorgeous—

    “What a beautiful necklace,” Zhongli mused from behind you, making you jump. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to how surprisingly silently a man as tall as him could move. “Noctilucuous Jade of this clarity must have been incredibly difficult to find.”

    “Like the ones from the Mingyun Mines,” you recalled from his lecture the previous day. 

    “Exactly. Very good,” Zhongli nodded, his voice unmistakably pleased. Your pride soared at his simple praise. “Do you want this necklace, Hansi?”

    You blinked. “I’m sorry?” 

    “I noticed you looking at it. Would you like me to buy it for you?”

    “Oh,” you stammered, “I couldn’t possibly— someone like me—“ 

    “Please,” Zhongli raised a hand, “let there be only truth between us today.” 

    You did want it, so badly that it ached. A year ago, you wouldn’t have been let anywhere near the door of a shop carrying such expensive and fancy wares. You wouldn’t have dared to steal something this precious, wouldn’t have been able to sell it to the shady folk who fenced your stolen goods. A year ago, you wouldn’t have even dreamed of ever owning something so beautiful. Certainly wouldn’t have dreamed of accepting such an expensive gift from a stranger, not when you knew the price there would be to pay.

Yet in Zhongli’s eyes (they were the exact shade of mora, you noticed absently), there was nothing but earnestness.

    “I do,” you breathed. 

    It was dangerous that you had begun to let yourself dream. 

    “Excuse me. I’ll take this as well,” Without a second thought, Zhongli beckoned to the shop’s owner.

    “What a good eye you have, boss,“ you could see the gears grinding in the man’s head. “That’s uh... a necklace made from the finest Noctilucuous Jade in the nations. Carved in the image of… of a silk flower, the symbol of luxury. It would make a suitable gift for your partner.” 

    You felt your eyes go wide, but Zhongli barely blinked. “You are correct about the quality of the jade, but this is a glaze lily.”

    “I beg your pardon, boss?”

    Touching the necklace lightly, Zhongli turned his gaze to the shopkeeper, and you delighted in watching him squirm — good to know that it wasn’t just you affected by that heavy stare. “This necklace was carved in the image of not a silk flower, but a glaze lily. How much?”

    After a good bit of stammering to try and save face, the shop owner rattled off a price too high for you to even comprehend. Even if you had pooled all the Mora you had ever scrounged together in your life, you wouldn’t have been able to afford it — not in seven lifetimes. But you were reeling over something else. 

    Partner? And Zhongli hadn’t even taken offense to being compared to someone like you, someone who didn’t have a Mora to her name, didn’t even own the clothes on her back. 

    “No need to wrap it,” Zhongli said, and you realized that he had already bought it. Bought it for you. He gestured towards the necklace, still hanging there — but now yours, yours. “I trust that you would like to wear it now?”

    He was talking to you, waiting for your answer. Throat dry and words failing you, you just nodded quickly. You fumbled with its clasp, carefully at first, then desperately. Your nails, bitten to the quick and ragged from digging, were useless in your endeavors. Amidst your futile efforts, you heard the shopkeeper hurry away to help another customer. 

    After what seemed like years, Zhongli offered you an open palm. “Allow me.”

    “Oh,” you whispered, face burning as you handed the jewelry to him. “Yes. Please.” 

    He took it, deftly clicking it open. “May I?” It took you a moment to understand what he was asking. Without barely a thought, you inched closer, baring your neck to him so that he could put it on for you. 

    Zhongli leaned in — close enough to touch, close enough to kiss — and his fingers brushed the back of your neck. It was all you could do to not shiver. You could smell him, that warm scent promising that you might one day know what peace felt like. 

    The seconds dragged on — one, two, three — before he finally pulled away, leaving the necklace cool against the flush of your skin. You let out a breath you didn’t notice you were holding.

    “There,” Zhongli said, a faint smile on his lips. “Lovely.”

---

    By noon, it looked like even Zhongli might start buckling under the weight of all the items he had bought. 

    You’d come away with clothes for occasions you could not even begin to fathom: four bathrobes — silk from the Cuijie mountains —  shoes, house slippers, boots — premium leather from the grasslands of Fontaine — every day clothes, formal clothes, round-collar gowns, court robes — what the fuck are court robes? — and cloth trousers, among other things.

    With every purchase, you expected (anticipated?) the same degree of intimacy of when he put the necklace on you, but each time you were relieved (disappointed?) when he did not. Quickly, the rest of the morning became a routine mantra of: “Is this to your liking?” and “Mr Zhongli, it’s beautiful, but I know nothing of clothing, if you think it to be fitting—“ and “I’ll take it”s. 

    It was only when your stomach let out a mournful rumble that you realized how high in the sky the sun had climbed. You prayed that Zhongli did not hear, but of course, your luck had to run out sometime. 

    “My, look at the time,” he said, and you could tell he was trying to hide a smile. “Let’s have an early lunch, shall we? It would be remiss of me to bring you to Liyue Harbor without stopping at the best restaurant in the city.”

    “Yes, Mr. Zhongli.”

    As you walked, you braced yourself for what sort of restaurant could garner such high praise from an individual like Zhongli. You wished that you had put on one of the fancier clothes that Zhongli had bought you after all, before coming to a stop in front of a small eatery. Despite its position on the main commerce street, it looked wholly unremarkable, with its peeling paint, faded wooden countertop and old tables. 

    Zhongli seated himself at one of them, and beckoned for you to join him. As you hurried to comply, you saw the girl manning the window wave excitedly and hurry over. She was young, dark hair pulled into two buns. At her waist hung a small stuffed bear and bells that jingled with her every animated gesture. “Mr. Zhongli!” She called, balancing two teacups and a teapot on a tray above her head precariously. “Welcome back! Did you manage to take care of your urgent business from the other day?” 

    “Yes, it went well,” Zhongli answered, and you were surprised to hear a soft fondness in his voice. “Is your father not in today, Xiangling?”

    “Nossir, he’s gathering herbs in Qingce Village!” The girl named Xiangling frowned, “you know, he doesn’t know when to stop. I worry about him sometimes. His knee’s been acting up again.”

    “I see. I’ll be sure to bring some caoyào bandages from Bubu Pharmacy by sometime this week.” Zhongli promised with dignified resolve. “They work wonders on the bones—“

    Next to your table, two young men seemed to be having a heated discussion. One of them, with hair the pale blue of a summer sky, gestured furiously at his dish, while the other one — his dark blue hair a stark contrast to the first boy’s — clutched his side and laughed. 

    You wondered idly what it would be like to have friends like that. You wouldn’t know what to say, even if the two boys had approached you at that moment. There was no place for friendship in the ratway alleys of Liyue, and the few times you had tried to initiate one had ended poorly at best, violently at worst. 

    “Hello? Earth to pretty lady!” Xiangling waved a hand in front of your face, jolting you out of your reverie. “Do you know what you want to order?”

    You glanced at Zhongli for help, then had to look away when that overwhelming golden gaze met yours solidly as always. “Do you have any recommendations, Mr. Zhongli?” You asked — if the past day had taught you anything, it was that he always did.

    “Certainly,” he began, taking a deep breath — the only hint of the reckoning to come , “there’s the Black-Back Perch Stew. It’s Monday, which means that the restaurant has just purchased fresh shipment of seafood from the docks, making this a fine choice above all the other items on the menu. However, it’s also worth noting that the Adeptus’ Temptation also contains seafood, in fact, crabs, which are caught on the shores of Guyun and...“ 

    After the eighth dish, he paused to take a breath, and you took the opportunity to carefully tell him that you had caught maybe half of that, and regardless, you had no clue which to choose, still. 

    “We’ll have all of them,” Zhongli decided with an air of finality. Somehow, you had expected that. Xiangling nodded knowingly, as though this was a common occurrence.

    “Should I put this one on the Wangsheng Parlor’s tab, again, Mr. Zhongli?”

    “No,” Zhongli said, and you were surprised to see a small, wry smile on his face. “Please put this one on the tab of Tartaglia of the Fatui.”

    “Of the Fatui?” Xiangling’s lips, curved into an “o”, expressed the same shock you felt. The elite military force of Snezhnaya — that Fatui? To what extent did Zhongli’s connections run? 

    “Yes. Please collect the payment at the Northland Bank — just mention my name, and that it was for a meal. We have an… open-ended contract of sorts.” 

    “Alrighty!” Xiangling had already bounced back from her surprise, and you wondered where in that tiny frame she was storing that boundless energy. “I’ll have your orders coming right up!” 

---

    The silence that followed Xiangling’s departure dragged on for a few painful seconds. You studied the tea leaves in your cup intently, feeling Zhongli’s gaze rending you through. 

    “Now then,” he started, bringing his teacup slowly to his lips, “have you had a good day today, Hansi?”

    “Yes, si—“ You stopped yourself. “Yes, Mr. Zhongli.” Another silence followed, one that you desperately needed to fill. “I cannot thank you enough for your generosity in buying me so many things. I will work hard to ensure I can begin to deserve them.”

    Zhongli placed the cup back down with an audible clack. “Nonsense. You already do.” You were startled at the hard edge of his voice, but it quickly reverted to its normal tranquility. “Besides, I haven’t spent a single Mora of my own today. You have the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor to thank for your bounty.”

    That reminded you to ask. “May I ask, what is Mr. Zhongli’s connection with the famed Wangsheng Parlor?”

    “Why, I work for them. As a consultant,” Zhongli said. 

    Oh. Of all the jobs your imagination had appended upon him since your meeting — assassin, mafia boss, black market dealer, eldest son and heir to a long lost clan of wealth and nobility, to name a few — this was somehow the most surprising. 

    “As a funeral consultant, Mr. Zhongli?” Surely this was just a side job for him, a hobby? But what a morbid one it was!

    “Not quite. Although I do offer the odd advice on mortal— er, on normal funerals when it’s needed of me.” Zhongli took a long sip of tea, as though carefully considering his next words.  “I specialize in the traditional arts of the Rite of Parting. The sending-off of the divine.”

    “Like, Archons?” You whispered. 

    “Like the Adepti,” he corrected gently. “Although in Liyue’s case, yes, Archon and Adepti were one and the same.”

    Was he talking about Rex Lapis? You shuddered at the thought of Rex Lapis ever needing a funeral. All those books you’d read about him, tales of his valiant stands and brutal fights. Surely nothing in the mortal realm today could even touch him. 

    “How do you know how to carry out the Adepti’s Rites, Mr. Zhongli?” You wondered aloud. Silly — the man literally had a library in the upper floor of his home; of course there would be a ritual book or two in his possession. Yet his answer took long to come, and surprised you. 

    “I have a good memory,” he said, with a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Though I did have to get a little help with the most recent Rite of Parting. It’s been a long time since there’s been the need for a ritual so grand.” 

    Recent? Had an adepti died recently? The only news you’d managed to hear in the past few months had come from the lips of drunken guards, and not even half of it had been coherent. You opened your mouth to ask, but was shut up quickly by the most mouth-watering scent you’d ever been graced with in your life.

    “It looks like our food is here,” Zhongli gestured to Xiangling, who was running at full speed towards your table, this time with two steaming trays balanced on her head. “I certainly hope you’ve got an appetite today as well.” 

---

    You were proud to be able to say that you ate at a human-esque pace this time, stopping at the first hint of fullness. You would not have a repeat of the embarrassment of last night. 

    “This is sho good,” you finally said, between your last few bites. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

    “Xiangling’s cooking never disappoints,” Zhongli agreed. “Shall we head home, now?”

    “What, before spending Wangsheng Funeral Parlor into bankruptcy?” you teased carefully, and you were pleased to earn a hearty chuckle from Zhongli. 

---

    Lying in bed that night, you admitted the answer to your question from that morning — you did believe Zhongli. You were beginning to let yourself grow complacent, to trust, to hope — you would be lying to yourself if you said otherwise.

    You’d also be lying to yourself if you didn’t acknowledge how stupid, how hideously dangerous that sort of thinking was for someone like you. While you were no longer as sure as you were that Zhongli was trying to take advantage of you, you were far from out of the lion’s den. What would Zhongli do if he found out about the Geo Vision in your drawers? When he figured out you had been lying to him, that Rex Lapis had granted you the same powers as he did him? When he figured out what you were planning to use your Vision to do?

    If Zhongli turned out to be like the others… You could scarcely even bear the thought. 

    Gripped with a sudden, ugly rage, you pushed back the covers and quietly crept to the bedside drawer. Under the scrolls and paintings, your Vision pulsed its soft golden glow. You brushed gently against the gem, feeling your fingertips tingle with the power of the Archons, of the power of Rex Lapis. Against your skin, your new necklace felt hot. For the first time since you were born, you felt strong.

    霸王. Bawang. 

    That’s all you knew of the name of the organization that had dragged you through hell — a passing remark from a drunken guard. That’s all you needed to know to find them again. The surge of calm, then of power, that you felt through your veins scared you a little. What was the extent of your Vision’s abilities? Best not to find out in the middle of your bedroom. 

    Reluctantly, you put the Vision back into the drawer, watching it glow proudly against the dark. You shut the drawer tight. shutting it tight. 

    You hadn’t forgotten. You’d never forget, for as long as you lived, the faces of every man who banged on the bars of your cell just to watch you jump. You hadn’t been brave or strong enough to fight back, then. But you would be. You would be. And the second you were, you’d go back and kill them all, every single one. Raze it all to the ground. 

    If Zhongli got in your way, you told yourself, you would not hesitate.

[thenextchapter22]

Angel of the Three Realms

PART 7!!

Description: You were an Angel who went to the human world to escape punishment for loving Lucifer only to be brought back into his life, this time in the Devildom where you pretend to be human.

In this chapter: Everything is perfect, even with your love still a secret, and being home with everyone and flying is all you could ask for...

Tags: Unrequited Love, Fluff, Angst, WIP

Pairing(s): Lucifer/Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Link to my AO3: Click Here

Authors Note: Guys, this is the second to last chapter :( Thank you to all those who kept reading, I’m really happy you liked this work. Please enjoy~

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

_+_

You had the most magical time just simply being with the brothers. Not doing anything special, only talking in your room, tossing popcorn at each other and snuggling. They were always so warm, and you’d never turn away a hug.

But eventually they had to go to their own thing, so that left you some time alone. Mostly with your thoughts, which strayed here and there as you stretched on your bed. Thankfully they had put it back to the way it was before the spell to make it larger.

School was on temporary break per Lord Diavolo’s orders (and although he didn’t say it directly, you knew it was because of you, and he wanted you to have some time off).

There was a knock on the door again. But this time, someone else spoke out on the other side.

“May I come in?” Lucifer called out.

You stood up quick and straightened out your clothes, fixing your hair. It had a slight curl to it from Asmo’s braiding. Lucifer at your door was a rare thing indeed, plus you wanted to look presentable after having popcorn thrown at you.

Letting him inside, he glanced around at the slight mess that still remained. Stray blankets, the TV was still moved from its spot, and some chairs had been pushed away to make room for the larger bed that had been there.

He turned back to you, and said, “I had stopped by earlier, but heard you all having so much fun I didn’t want to ruin it all.”

You blinked in surprise. “Oh, you could have joined us, you know.”

He waved his gloved hand dismissively. “No, you needed time with them. They needed time with you.”

Biting your lip, you had to ask. “Did you… hear anything we said?”

His lips quirked a bit but he didn’t not smile. “If you’re referring to you speaking about Michael, then, yes, I happened to hear it.”

So you eavesdropped, you wanted to say, but instead you pushed that away. It probably wasn’t on purpose.

“I hope its okay I told them about Michael… I don’t want to keep any more secrets.”

“Of course, dove, I had planned on telling them myself.”

You shivered at the nickname that flew so easily from his lips, and nodded, your hair bouncing. “Good, I’m glad.”

You watched his gaze flicker to your shoulders before he sighed. “I don’t want to upset you but I feel like we should talk about everything that’s happened.”

“Oh! Uh, okay. Do you want to sit then?” you gestured to the table. “I can make us some tea really fast.”

He did sit, but shook his head. “The tea isn’t needed. Let’s just talk.”

Talking wasn’t as easy as he made it seem. But you did sit opposite him at the little brown wooden table, and crossed your ankles and folded your hands under your chin. “All right, shoot.”

He smirked. “So eloquent.”

You winked. “Always.”

Really, you just wanted to ease the tension in the room. It was too stuffy and a bit suffocating. You were nervous for his questioning, like he was a detective asking you, a criminal, if you had done the murder.

Lucifer didn’t look at you for a moment, instead stared at the table, tapping his fingers on the edge. Then he stopped, and looked up at you with intensity in those gorgeous eyes. “I can’t apologize enough for how stupid I was to not see you when you first came here. Despite the spell, even so.”

You frowned. “Oh, Luci—”

He kept going. “But I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. I need to know. Why did you leave? What happened to make you leave?”

You knew the question would come. Still you were not prepared for it. “I just… it’s hard to say why. There were lots of reason.” Lies. Only one: him.

He always saw right through you. Narrowing eyes spoke of that. “You’re not being truthful with me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

He paused. His tone seemed lighter next he spoke, “Did you at least have a happy life?”

That was just like the brothers’ question. “I did…mostly.”

“Hm. Tell me more. I want to hear about your life, what I missed.”

“You do?” you whispered.

“Of course. Unless you don’t want to tell me. You’ve changed so much since I last saw you.”

“In a good way, or bad?”

He chuckled. “A bit of both, I think.”

You smiled. “Okay.” You thought about everything you’d been through, and decided to start off with a high note. “There was a stretch of years where I lived in a small town by the sea. Everyone knew everyone, and there was kindness all around. My favorite thing to do was fly over the water in the moonlight. The ocean breeze and the smell of salt air was amazing.” You inhaled like you were there, and he gently reached out and brushed his fingers over your cheek. You held in a whimper. “I had to leave at one point, when the kids started to become adults and I stayed the same as I was.”

“That must’ve been difficult to do over and over. Establish relationships and then leave.”

You nodded, and sighed. “It had to be done…”

“I do have to wonder… why you didn’t become Human once your arrival on the surface world. You have no Halo but you do have wings, and celestial magic… It’s against all that Heaven stood for.”

You had wondered it yourself many times. But then you had other things to worry about, like your pretend human life. Evolving with them, learning and teaching, building relationship and ending them many times over. It was fun and fantastic and everything you never had dreamed of when you first left. So, only for a few short moments did you ponder that question Lucifer asked, and replied back.

“I did wonder but… I wouldn’t be able to find any answers. I had too much to do.”

Lucifer smiled. “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart clenched. “You—you are?”

“I am. You’ve done amazing things in your life. I couldn’t have wished for anything better. Losing all these years with you…” He frowned. “I will admit thinking about how much time I’ve spent here, with my memories of you gone… That I didn’t have the strength to break free.”

“You couldn’t have known,”

“While that’s true, I still hate it.”

“And so, now that I have you here with me, I will make the best of it. We will together.”

Together. Just not the way you wanted.

Perhaps, in time, maybe some years in the future, you would be brave enough to finally speak up. But right now wasn’t the best time. Or you could just be a true coward to your own feelings. You had a stray thought of ‘what it this was hurting Lucifer more than telling him would be?’

“I promise you, my dear, if I were to ever see Michael again…” And Lucifer’s forehead glowed where his black triangle usually lay, dark clouds forming the shape but not fully changing him. “…I’ll kill him.”

_+_

Life was back to normal. Only, it was better. Truth was out, and a freedom of the soul with it. You were truly able to be you, at least in the way you looked. Sure, your wings were still tucked away but you knew they weren’t a secret to be hidden away anymore.

The first day you were told you could fly again, you shot out of bed that very morning and, after breakfast, ran to the courtyard. It was a beautiful Devildom day, no clouds, not too hot or cold, and the winds were just right.

“She’s gonna fly! Everyone, come and see her wings!” Mammon shouted.

There was the sound of a stampede and before you knew it, the entirety of the House of Lamentation was there, and Purgatory Hall even somehow ended up.

You were very nervous. It had been months since you’d flown. But you knew it was going to be as easy as getting back on a bicycle as the humans say.

“Go on, dearie, we know you’re going to be beautiful. Spread your wings and fly~” Asmo shouted.

You grinned at him, and heard everyone else shout out words of encouragement. It was honestly really sweet. Luke was jumping up and down, waving his arms. He hadn’t gotten wings yet so he was super excited.

Satan didn’t have wings so he wasn’t as cheery, but he still gave you a soft smile and told you to go for it.

Then, lastly, you heard Lucifer speak. He wasn’t shouting like the others, but your focused hearing caught his words. “Fly, just as you used to: with passion.”

So with that, you changed, wings sprouting out like fireworks of white bursting open, and like a rocket you shot up into the sky. There was cheering and screaming, but as you went higher, soaring around the clear skies, you could only hear the wind rushing in your ears, and your heart pounding. The pure delight in flying never would leave you.

The sky wasn’t just yours for long. You looked to your left and saw Asmodeus’ bat wings flapping as he twirled in circles. He looked majestic, and you saw he had his hair pinned back with clips. He winked and flew a bit lower, and you laughed.

Mammon flew past you in a burst of speed, the back winds hitting you hard but you steadied yourself. “Hey, slow down!” you teased.

He stuck out his tongue from in front of you, and circled you once. “No way, you’re so slow,” he shouted with a stupid grin before speeding ahead.

You laughed at them. This was so much fun. You shut your eyes for a moment, feeling the wind in your face, rustling your hair. Your wings ached gloriously. The tickling of it against your feathers. It was pure magic.

“Always with your head in the clouds.”

You saw Lucifer then, full form, four wings dark and incredible behind him. His hair looked perfect in the wind, and he eased up next to your right and kept pace.

“I know,” you said with a smile. “I do my best thinking here.”

“Well, then, next time a test comes up, please go flying first.”

You laughed. “All right, but only if you come with me?”

He smiled. “Of course, dove.”

You hummed. You moved away a bit, and twirled once, giggling, and found his gaze softened. “Why did you call me that? You used to when I was younger, and you also did when I first came here. I don’t know why, when you were under that spell…”

He slowed his speed a bit until he stopped, and you had to circle back to meet him. The two of you thousands of feet above the Devildom ground, floating in the air.

“It’s quite the conundrum isn’t it?” He paused. “Memories don’t just vanish. These spells can’t remove a memory, only cloak it, and hide it away. So it’s always there, somewhere in your mind, waiting to resurface again.”

You frowned. He was sort of right. It was like when you worked as a temp nurse in a hospital, and the coma patients eventually got their memory back with time and patience.

Suddenly, Lucifer smiled at you, like a Morningstar of darkness. “I suppose a part of me just… couldn’t forget you.”

What? Your wings fumbled a bit in astonishment, and he reached out to grab at your upper arms. There was a large frown on his face and his brow was furrowed. “Steady. You’re stronger now but I think it’s time to head back down.”

You said nothing, only let him lead you both to the ground. Everyone gathered around and you were brought out of your head to them patting your arms and saying how amazing you were.

A part of you was still stuck on what just was said, but you pulled yourself together. “Thanks everyone! I want to fly with all of you soon.”

You looked at Satan, who was frowning. He sighed. So you walked to him and took his hand. He blushed. “The two of us can do something else, or if you want I can take you flying?”

He shook his head. “No thank you. I’m not a fan of… heights…” He smiled. “But I appreciate it.”

Belphie made a soft noise. “I want extra naps on your lap as compensation.”

You chuckled. “Easily done, Belphie.”

Levi frowned from beside Satan. “What about me?”

You took his hand next, to which he panicked externally and internally, and said the same thing to him.

Levi stuttered a bit, “W-w-well we can go swimming instead. I know a lake that’s perfect this time of year where you can rent tube floats nearby and there’s a really cool waterfall that makes rainbows.”

You nodded. “Sounds perfect. Speaking of water, I’m thirsty so I’m going to grab a drink.”

Leaving them behind, you went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, downed it, and exhaled. You placed your hands on the marble countertop and scrunched your nose while you thought.

‘a part of me just… couldn’t forget you.’

Did Lucifer love you? As more than a… friend? Was it possible? Those words seemed to have an underlying meaning to them, you were almost positive. Because if he did love you, he would say so, right? He was Pride, but wouldn’t love overcome that tenfold?

You laughed aloud, and shook your head. “I’m an idiot. Of course he doesn’t.”

Still, those words echoed in your head all day and night, even appearing in your dreams. Haunting or teasing, you were not sure.

But when you woke up to a new family, you shoved that part away. You had to put the past where it belonged: the past. You were home, Michael could not get you here, and you were safe to live your life as you chose. And you chose to live it to the fullest.

[formulavilla7]

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride (A Timo Werner imagine) Part 2

The date had finally arrived for their meet-up and both were feeling excited to see each other again. It was a warm day, odd for London, and the pair felt that the bright morning sun held a lot of promise for what awaited them.

Timo had kept his cards close to his chest and not revealed where they would be spending the day and what they would be doing, which admittedly made Y/N quite apprehensive. It left her fretting in the morning about whether she’d dressed up enough as he’d not told her to dress up in his texts.

She needn’t have worried, she found out later when they eventually arrived at their destination. A big smile graced her lips as she exited Timo’s car, realising where she was. The botanical gardens. Neatly cultivated plants stretched as far as the eye could see in an array of striking colours and shapes. A water fountain gently spurted nearby providing some ambience to the otherwise quiet atmosphere. She grinned.

Y/N could honestly say that this was not what she expected when she agreed to meet up with Timo but she wasn’t complaining. A day spent in the company of beautiful plants and a man that she was interested in getting to know. It sounded delightful.

She didn’t think that this would be Timo’s scene though. From the very little she knew of him she doubted that spending a day walking around looking at plants was what he classed as fun so she was surprised that he’d brought her here as opposed to meeting for a coffee or something. She supposed that she had only met him once properly although they had been texting in the meantime.

They set off around the gardens regardless after buying their tickets and Y/N came into her element, excitedly telling her companion about different plants when they came to them and reeling off facts that she knew about them. He found this endearing however, loving her passionate rambling on a topic that she was clearly knowledgeable about. A spark was in her eyes as she did so and he thought that she looked beautiful. He took a photo of her at her request as she smiled cheerfully at the camera in front of a flower bed. The blossoms on display paled in comparison to her beauty, beauty that the camera on his phone failed to do justice. God he fancied her and he barely knew her really. He smiled to himself knowing that his teammates would most likely tease him if they knew how he felt but he didn’t care. He’d never felt like this before with someone he’d only recently met.

He sent her the photo and then they continued their walk around the peaceful gardens chatting quietly in their quest to get better acquainted with each other. The German reached out, brushing his hand against her softly and she took it, interlacing their fingers and acting as though everything was normal even though she was screaming on the inside. His hands were warm as they enveloped her’s and she smiled to herself, glancing down to see the size difference between her delicate hands and his larger ones.

“Timo” she asked, breaking the silence. There was something on her mind that she wanted answering.

“Hmm” he hummed in response, turning his head towards her.

“Why did you bring me here?” She rushed to continue before he could misunderstand “Don’t get me wrong, I’m having a great time. I’m loving it here but I didn’t think that this would be something that would interest you”

The German smiled to himself before replying “I knew you would like it here, the way you spoke about flowers, plants and your job when we met made me think that this would be something you’d enjoy,” he blushed “And… I wanted to impress you but actually I’m enjoying myself. It’s really peaceful here and it’s great to hear your knowledge and passion about all of the plants”

Y/N was stunned. When she’d left the house she’d wondered whether this meet-up was a date or just something between friends and now he’d admitted to wanting to impress her. What did that mean? Did he want to impress her so she’d go out with him? She was so confused.

“You wanted to impress me? Why?”

“Because…” he took a deep breath “I like you Y/N as a bit more than friends, I have since the wedding and I know that we’ve not known each other long but I really want to get to know you”

“So is this a date?” She asked curiously, wanting to know his answer

He flushed and scratched the back of his neck with his free hand nervously. “Erm… I… if you want it to be” he stuttered.

She squeezed his hand and leaned up to kiss his bearded cheek softly. “I want it to be” she whispered, grinning at the look of happiness in his brown eyes.

“Anyway come on Mr Romantic,” she teased “we should finish up here and go and get some food I think. I’m starving” She tried to appear confident in spite of what had just occurred. It was no longer a friendly meet-up, she was on a date with the charming footballer and that made her nervous. She liked him and she didn’t want to scare him off by saying the wrong thing.

Timo blushed at the nickname he’d be called but nevertheless agreed, walking hand in hand with her to the exit and driving to a small Italian restaurant in the city. It was beautiful and the food was even better and the two spent many hours there, laughing and joking with each other. In fact, they’d gotten along so well and the hours had flown past so quickly that they only left when the staff were closing up the restaurant.

Timo drove her home, both feeling disappointed that their day together was coming to an end but they knew it would happen at some point. It was inevitable. It had been a long day and they’d thoroughly enjoyed it but all good things must come to an end. They were both tired and it was late

He walked her to her door. “I had a really nice time today Y/N. I’d love to do it again, if you’d like to” he was still nervous about her answer despite the day they’d had

“Of course I would, I really enjoyed today. Just text me and we’ll sort something” she smiled at him and he thought it was beautiful.

“Great… well I should go” he said reluctantly

“Wait!” She said, looking surprised at herself for stopping him

He looked at her curiously but didn’t get a chance to query it as she leaned in and kissed him, catching him off guard. He froze, his mind trying to process what was happening before he kissed her back, his arms sliding around her waist. Her’s went round his neck before they pulled apart, blushing but happy.

“I’ll see you soon, schatz” He sent her a soft smile and pressed a kiss to her cheek before they let go of each other. She watched his silhouette walk back to his car, smile threatening to split her cheeks in happiness. Closing the door one thought stuck in her mind: I really can’t wait to see him again.

Hope everyone enjoyed this next part! Sorry for the long wait. Any feedback is appreciated

[sockablock]

Hi! All the political and ocean concerns in the M9 have me thinking about Astrid and Eodwulf and Sabien. Hmm I know this is a reaching prompt, but something about Caleb and Fjord and people that you used to know? Thanks for all your amazing work, and stay safe during these crazy times! 💜

The beach is mostly trashed by the end, so they spend an extra few days on Rumblecusp to help the villagers clean up.

Which isn’t so bad. The food is good, if...adversarial, and the people now formerly of the cult of Vokodo take to wine-making like, well, former cultists.

Beauregard apparently has opinions about their process, but it’s not like they can get Marrow Oak on a tropical island; and anyway, it hasn’t stopped her from drinking any.

It hasn’t stopped Fjord from pouring a cup either, which he sips as Caleb emerges from the gloom. Behind him, sounds of clean-up and commotion, the curling grey smoke of a bonfire reaching toward pinprick stars above.

“Did they kick you out too?” Fjord dips his head. “I always feel like Marius when they start the heavy lifting.”

“Jester said I was getting in her way,” Caleb sighs, and plops down onto the bench beside him. He’s close enough that Fjord can see the glow in his eyes. “I decided that was a good enough excuse to take a break.”

“Man, at least Yasha was polite about it,” Fjord commiserates. “All she had to do was throw the cart over her head, and I got the message pretty fast.”

Caleb answers with a muted laugh, and a lock of hair slips out from behind his ear. Fjord smiles too, and offers his cup.

“So it’s over now, huh?” he says as Caleb takes a sip. “Time to head back soon.”

“I suppose so,” Caleb nods. “It feels like only days since we arrived on the island.”

“It was a few days ago, wasn’t it? Er...you would know, I mean.”

“Yes. If you want to be technical, we arrived ten days ago.”

“And it’s only been, like, ten hours since the Traveler ‘ascended.’” Fjord makes the appropriate air quotes. “Did you see him at the celebration dinner afterward? I’m pretty sure he ate eighteen cupcakes. Maybe nineteen.”

“I can see where Jester learned it from. Although,” Caleb adds dryly, “they were not bad cupcakes. I am still impressed that Caduceus managed to make icing on a deserted island.”

“Vegan, too.”

“Yes. Will wonders never cease.”

Caleb passes the cup back and Fjord gently swirls the liquid inside, a violent mishmash of pinkish-purple that doesn’t seem to settle either way. 

It’s cool in his hands. He looks up and takes a slow breath.

“Do you...that is...it seems a bit pointless to ask, since, well, it’s not like he’s your god—”

“Hm?”

Fjord considers the torchlight on the water. “Do you think we did the right thing?

Caleb is quiet for a while.  

“I...do,” he says, eventually. “We...helped the Traveler accomplish what he wanted, and we gave the people a new—we gave them something. Perhaps their collective belief will be enough to scrape out a new deity entirely, if the Moonweaver decides to pass.”

“Can gods...do that?”

Caleb shrugs. “They are gods. What would we know?”

The waves whistle as they wash against the shore. Then Fjord says:

“But...what about Jester? I mean, I know he promised he’d still be around, and I’m pretty sure Beau would kill him if he wasn’t, but it still feels like an end, doesn’t it? Like the old days are over. There’s no going back.”

Caleb makes a faint humming sound. “The old days had been over for a while.”

“Right,” says Fjord, “but—”

“I understand.”

In the distance, someone tosses another log onto the bonfire. It’s probably Yasha. Cheers go up.

“A lot of things have been changing. Have changed already, for all of us, I think.”

Fjord looks over. “How do you mean?”

He is surprised when he finds Caleb staring back at him. The firelight glows on his skin.

“You are a prime example, no? Think of what has changed for you.”

“Er...”

“The boat,” Caleb clarifies. “The explosion. The sword, then losing the sword, then...well.” And he gestures to Fjord, going up and going down, landing firmly on his symbol to the Wildmother.

“Oh.” Fjord suddenly feels a bit embarrassed. “Well. Yes. But...I think I was overdue for some changes.”

“You don’t miss them, then?” Caleb asks. “The old days?”

Fjord shuffles a little on the bench. His feet leave a groove in the sand.

“Well,” he admits, “it’s not...not like I don’t. It’s just...they were long ago, now. I’m not sure I’m that person, anymore. I...definitely don’t think I want to be.”

Caleb’s glance shifts to the ground. “Yes,” he says. “That, I understand.”

Fjord passes him the cup again. He takes it.

In quiet sort of voice, he says, “You aren’t. For the record. I mean...I don’t think you’re like how you were...like before.”

Caleb looks at the wine. “You didn’t know me.”

“You’ve...filled in some of the details for us, and I have an active imagination. Besides, I’ve been around you for nearly a year now.”

Caleb drinks. It’s his longest swig yet. When he finishes, he exhales and wipes at his mouth.

“You have, haven’t you?”

He hands the drink back.

“Everyone has,” Fjord says.

It’s Caleb’s turn to watch the tide. The breeze moves his collar. Without his coat on, the wind ruffles his shirt.

“I believe...that is what changed me, in the end. If not for y—for everyone, I would not be who I am today.”

“Yeah. We’re all made by who we stick with, I think. In the past and the present. It’s all a matter of luck.”

“I don’t know if ‘luck’ is the word I would use.”

Fjord snorts. “I don’t know if I would, either.”

“Gods,” Caleb says suddenly, “that was—your situation—”

“It’s okay,” Fjord says. “It could’ve been worse. I could’ve been brainwashed by evil wizards who wanted to...what? Turn me into an assassin? Use me as a weapon? Force me to kill innocents?”

“It was a mixed bag. Maybe all of the above? But at least I had a loving family, first.” 

From anyone else, it could’ve sounded cruel. Fjord has long ago gotten used to the weird way the Mighty Nein choose to express themselves.

“Do you miss those old days?”

Caleb’s smile comes back, but this time it’s a little stale.

“Sometimes...hah. Sometimes I even miss the days that came after. Not everything about Soltryce was so bad, you know. And even the...as you say, the ‘evil wizards,’ they were...at the time, despite it all, I enjoyed it.”

“At the time.”

“Yes.”

“And now?”

The smile flickers. “A mixed bag.”

Fjord lets the sickly sweet wine dance on his tongue. 

“I have a feeling I know what you mean. I miss...I miss some parts, too. I miss some people, actually, or...I miss the way I used to know them.”

When Caleb is quiet, Fjord finds himself pressing on. He’s not sure if he even means to.

“I hated the orphanage,” he whispers. “I hated it. I hated everything about it, which just made...it just made...” he blinks, “it made me all the more grateful at least Sabian was on my side. I...I used to think he always would be. I always thought it would be me and him against the world, and then...then...gods, I’m sorry—”

“No,” Caleb shakes his head. “Don’t be. He was important to you.”

“Of course he was.” Fjord huffs. “He used to be my whole world. We did everything together. We even signed up together. And then...”

Caleb’s voice is hesitant, but he still asks, “What happened?”

Fjord laughs. “My world got bigger. I...once I met Vandren, got used to sailing, I...I don’t know. It could be selfish, but sometimes I wonder if Sabian resented the fact that he wasn’t the only person in my life anymore. Though I doubt my feelings are important enough for them to be the reason why he betrayed us.”

He all but spits the words out. It’s only then that that he realizes he’s been crying into the mug.

"Gods, I’m—”

He feels Caleb touch his shoulder. It’s still hesitant, but he does.

“It’s alright.”

“...and I’ve ruined the wine.”

“We can always get more.”

A pause. 

“I...the worst part is not knowing. Not knowing, and...and not being able to understand. Why. Why did it happen? Was it always my fault? Was...was it always like that, and was I too blind to see? What if it was never even what I thought it was?”

“...yes.”

Fjord looks up.

“Did you ever think of talking to them again? Not...gods, not Tr...you know, him, but...maybe that classmate—”

Caleb sucks in a breath. Again, “Yes.”

“Did it...help?”

He lets go. “Er...to be honest? No.” Then he catches Fjord’s expression, tacks on hastily, “Er, in your situation, it could—”    

Fjord bites into his laugh. “It had better. I’m paying good money to find him, actually.”

Caleb doesn’t ask for more details, which isn’t totally surprising. Apparently they’d had similar ideas anyway.

The tension drains away slowly, and Fjord finds it in himself to ask:

“Was she different?”

Caleb shrugs. “In many ways...yes and no. She had changed, but those changes had been in her always. I could see where they came from. I could see why they happened.”

“She was unlucky,” Fjord tries. “The people around her...”

“Yes. She never got the chance I did.”

“No,” Fjord nods. “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t feel entitled to Caleb’s expression at that. He doesn’t look, instead stares at the water and counts the seconds as the waves skim by.

“Do you think that Sabian—”

“No.”

“Right.” He hears Caleb breathe out. “Probably not. If it, er, if it counts for anything, though, I am of the mind that...though I did not know you before, you...you are a good person now. Our past...experiences to the contrary, you are a person that I would want to be, Fjord.”

Fjord nearly spills his cup into the sand.

“You—what?”

Caleb, to his shock and delight, looks offended. His face reddens to match his hair.

“I just—well—yes,” Caleb gets out, “I just mean...I think you are a good person. You cannot—that cannot be so hard to believe, unless—I told you, didn’t I? That I forgive you for the sword incident—”

Fjord decides to come to his rescue. He puts the cup down and waves his hand. “Right, right, you did, you did.”

“In case you had forgotten. Your memory is...”

Fjord raises an eyebrow.

“Nevermind.” Caleb amends hastily. “My point is, if you are...worried about your past, and the people who have...who have shaped you to who you are, I just want you to know that I...the you that you are now, Fjord, is an admirable person.”

A pause. Then:

“Thanks, Caleb.”

Caleb leans back on the bench. “Of course.”

They sit there in the silence for a little longer, watching the moon pull slowly on the tide, tracing the shape of clouds on the night sky.

“I—yeurk. Oh, that’s bad.”

“Hm?”

“The wine, I definitely ruined it. I, ah, think we might need a new glass.”

A laugh. 

“Come on. Let’s go get one, then.”

— — —

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