#and do not worry about the arm straps!! i think it’s so lame when artists are like ‘oh you missed some details’ shut up!!!

[pareidolle]

Hewo :3

Hoheho an attempt to draw your Cold again because he is so gorgeous.

Might've missed a few details- (the arm band/strap thingies)

OH MY GOD???? omg miyuka thank you so much???? i’m so honored you’d want to draw my cold i love your art style so much ♡♡ thank you thank you thank you you’ve drawn him so beautiful!!!

[mamabear-elinor]

The Forging of Bitter Bonds

III. A Shining Light September 07, 1992; September 14, 1992

[cw for a small instance of ~~casual racism]

The first day of the semester at the University of Edinburgh was insignificant to most. The weather was average; overcast and cool, the wind sweeping in off the ocean and chilling the bone if one was not careful. Elinor found it invigorating as she walked over the uneven cobblestones through the stone corridor that led out onto the street in Old Town. She checked the map that the student’s union had passed out at orientation and then crossed the street and into the warm little pub. 

“Ellie!” A pretty, redheaded girl stood up in her seat and waved rambunctiously, garnering the attention of a few other patrons of the quaint pub. 

Quickly, Elinor headed toward the table and slipped into the seat across from her. “Goldie, crivvens, you’re going to get us kicked out.” 

“Oh, psh. It’s fine. I already made friends with ol’ Tommy.” She wiggled the whiskey in her hand. 

“You’re underage,” Elinor pointed out, torn between disapproving and impressed.

“That’s such a nice name, don’t you think?” Marigold DunBroch ignored her. 

Elinor turned and looked over her shoulder at the bartender, who was nothing to look at. Old and balding, with a red nose and a missing front tooth. “No,” she replied primly after her assessment.

Marigold made a face but just sat back in her seat. “How was it then? I don’t have class until tomorrow, thank God.” 

Finally, Elinor smiled. “Wonderful! My professor for Art History 101 is a woman, Professor Howell. She’s amazing. I want to be just like her.” 

“You got all that from one class?” Marigold curled her fingers in a wave at a strapping young lad a few tables away, not looking in her friend’s direction. 

“Have you ever heard of Artemisia?” 

“Bless you.”

“Hilarious. Listen.” Elinor tugged her friend’s arm. “She was this woman painter in the seventeenth century. She was the first woman to be a member of the Accademia di Arte del Disegno. I didn’t even know women were painters then! It’s only my first day and I’ve already learned so much. Oh, there was another one. I can’t remember her name, shoot.” 

Elinor dove for her notebook in her satchel, which was made from fine leather. Her father had given it to her as a gift. She pulled out her notebook and sat back up. 

There was a girl standing in front of their table. 

“Oh, hello,” Elinor said with a tight smile, her brow furrowed slightly. “Can I help you?” 

Marigold had turned her focus on the newcomer as well. 

“You’re in Professor Howell’s class.” Her accent was Scottish, but there was something strange about it. Elinor could not place it.  

“Yes?” Elinor had a feeling it was not a question. 

“Me too,” the girl smiled. “I’m Sorcha. Can I sit with you? All the other tables are full and it’s started raining.” 

Elinor glanced over her shoulder to the rain, then over at Marigold, who shrugged a little and moved her stuff over to make room. “Yeah, sure, sit. Please.”

“Fabulous.” Sorcha did not need telling twice. She plopped down in the spare seat as soon as the table was clear. Her gold jewelry glinted in the low light, almost too bright for the dim pub. There were raindrops in the tight curls of her black hair. They caught the light too, twinkling like stars. She reached up and shook out her hair. A few droplets fell onto the table. “Sorry. I forgot my scarf at home today. It wasn’t supposed to rain.”

“That--that’s alright,” Elinor said after a moment. 

Sorcha smiled at her. “You’re sweet. I didn’t get your names--?” 

“I’m Marigold DunBroch.” Marigold held out her hand. “And that’s Elinor Briar. We call her Ellie, though.” 

“No, no we don’t,” Elinor corrected, feeling the tips of her ears heat slightly. 

“No worries,” Sorcha said, leaning back in her chair and spreading her legs so that one of her knees bumped the table, making Elinor jump slightly. Her posture was horrid. It was alarming. “I like Elinor better. It’s pretty. Do you know what it means?” 

Elinor furrowed her brow, her eyes jumping up from Sorcha’s thigh which was encroaching into her space. “What? No, uh--I think it was my grandmother’s name or...something like that.” 

“Shame. You know, a name can tell a lot about a person.” 

“How’s that?” This was Marigold, her eyes sparking bright as she leaned forward slightly.

“Well, you were named after your grandmother or something?” Sorcha was still looking at Elinor, her dark eyes assessing. 

Elinor couldn’t quite meet her gaze. “Do Marigold,” she mumbled, but cleared her throat and laughed once. 

“Yes, tell me about my name.” 

“Alright.” Sorcha’s eyes lingered for another moment on Elinor and then turned to Marigold, who was sitting primly, shoulders back, and wide, dazzling smile. Ever since they had been young, Marigold commanded every conversation her and Elinor were in. They did not see each other often, but if anyone asked, Marigold DunBroch was Elinor’s best friend in the whole world. 

“Well, from what I know marigolds are used for Día de los muertos.” 

“What’s that?” Marigold asked, grinning like a loon now at the attention being lavished on her.

Outside, thunder rumbled and the rain began to come down more steadily against the window pane. Elinor realized she was still clutching her notebook. She wondered, if she just took a peak, if she would be able to remember the name of the artist they’d learned about in class. Maybe the artist had a name that meant something important. 

“It translates to the Day of the Dead. A day when the veil between worlds is thinnest and the deceased walk amongst the living.” 

Elinor shivered as if one of the cool raindrops from the windowpane had slipped down her spine. 

Marigold deflated slightly, her blue eyes a bit more cautious. “Oh. Well! Do Elinor’s. I bet it means something lame like--dark-haired. Her parents are so unoriginal.”

“I--don’t know, actually,” Sorcha admitted with a little shrug, but when she looked at Elinor again, she had the sense that Sorcha knew more than she was letting on. “At least you have a family name. That’s nice. To have a legacy like that.” 

“Yes, I suppose.” Elinor took a sip of her water. 

A legacy. That was certainly something her family had given her. Or, more accurately, placed on her shoulders without her consent. She felt it heavy now, her first day of classes behind her and now a countdown until her new first day of classes. Elinor had yet to tell Marigold that she would be transferring to Oxford. In fact, she had yet to tell her that she was no longer seeing Francis Smith. She didn’t want to think about any of that. She wanted to enjoy her semester. To learn what she could. The comment had brought her back down again, though, as she was reminded that this was not permanent. Professor Howell would not be her teacher next year. Nor even next semester. She couldn’t write her thesis with the woman. It was silly of Elinor to have even been thinking of it. 

“What does your name mean then, Sorcha?” Marigold asked, not sensing her friend’s withdrawal. She put an elbow on the table (unladylike.) 

“It means brightness,” Sorcha said and those dark eyes of hers sparked, her white teeth stark against the dark lipstick and her dark skin.

“I have an Aunt Sorcha and she is not bright at all.” Marigold laughed loud enough that she snorted. 

“I think you’re very bright,” Elinor blurted without thinking and then felt her ears burn.

The look that Sorcha fixed her with made Elinor’s stomach churn. She felt as if somehow Sorcha had looked right through her. Or, perhaps, more accurately, directly into her, like she could see Elinor’s soul. This time, though, Elinor couldn’t look away. Their eyes locked. 

Then, Sorcha’s face broke out into another grin. “Aw, thanks, sweetie pie,” she said, reaching out to squeeze Elinor’s forearm. Her nails were long and bright red. (Garish, Elinor’s mother said in her head. Only women of certain proclivities paint their nails bright like that, pale colours only or don’t paint your nails at all.) “You’re not so bad yourself.” She winked.

“Oh, uh--I just meant--”

“I know what you meant.” Sorcha patted her arm. “Now, what’s in that notebook? I saw you pulling it out when I came over.”

“I was just--we can talk about something else.”

“Well, how am I gonna say if I wanna talk about it or something else unless you tell me what it is?”

“It was just some artist she was trying to remember,” Marigold waved. “I’d much rather know more about you, Sorcha. Where are you from?” 

“Spain,” Sorcha replied offhand. She was still looking at Elinor. “What is the work from the artist? Was it one of the ones we were shown in class?”

“Spain? But you sound like a Scot!” Marigold said, looking like a dog with a bone. She was even more curious now.

“That’s because I grew up here. Now, what artist is it?” 

“It’s really--I can’t remember at this point,” Elinor said, leaning over to slide her notebook back into her bag. “It’s not important.” 

“You’ll just have to tell me next class. Looks like the rain has cleared, so I’m going to head out.” She stood up, the chair scraping behind her. 

Elinor blinked rapidly. “Oh, well. It was nice to meet you.” 

“You too.” She gave a little salute and then sauntered off.

“That was...odd,” Elinor commented, shifting in her seat slightly, crossing her ankles. 

“I liked her,” Marigold replied with a grin. 

→ → → 

The next week, after classes, as Elinor headed back out into the misty evening. Someone called her name.

“Elinor!” 

Turning, she saw Sorcha waving at her, then jogging down the steps to meet her. She had a bright yellow scarf tied around her thick hair this time. 

“Did you remember the artist?” 

“Oh, uhm, yes,” Elinor said as she began walking back toward her dorm. “It was Leonora Carrington.” It was a good thing the wind was brisk, for it hid the warmth of her cheeks. 

“You would totally like Carrington,” Sorcha agreed with a sage nod of her head.

“What? What is that supposed to mean?” 

“I just figured she’d be your style.” 

“How?” 

“I don’t know. Just a hunch.” 

They walked silently for a few steps. Elinor had assumed that Sorcha would peel off again, but instead she stayed right next to Elinor, her wide hips occasionally bumping Elinor’s own. 

“I looked up what my name means,” Elinor admitted after a few more moments. 

The smile Sorcha gave her made Elinor think that she had somehow known this too. “And?” Sorcha prompted. 

“Light of God, I suppose. There were a few other meanings but--”

“That was the one that stood out to you?” 

“No, I mean...that is probably what my parents intended anyhow.” 

“Who cares what they think? That’s not what I asked.” 

Elinor, if she was not so well-schooled in walking gracefully, might have tripped over a cobblestone. She clutched her books tight to her chest. Who cares what they think? What an absurd thing to say. 

“Well--it also means shining light or...the bright one.” Elinor’s heart felt like it was beating extremely fast for a casual, brisk autumn stroll across campus.

“We match!” Sorcha sounded extraordinarily pleased with herself. “That’s brilliant. Would you like to join my study group?” 

“Oh, I--” Elinor had a feeling saying no would be rude. She didn’t want to say no. Or...did she? There was a part of her that did. She was only going to be here for one semester. Gone before the snow melted and the spring bloomed again. Making friends had never been a priority for her anyway. She wanted to do well in school, so that her parents would give her freedom. If she failed, they would drag her back to the castle kicking and screaming. 

Education for women was a privilege, after all. 

“It’ll be fun, I promise.” 

“Very well,” Elinor agreed stiffly. 

“Perfect, we meet in classroom 124B on Wednesdays from 6pm to 7pm. I will see you there!” Abruptly, Sorcha turned on her heel and struck off straight across the quad. As she went, she removed the scarf from her head, allowing her hair to spring free, even though the rain had just begun in earnest. 

[mdzsgildedfate]

Gilded Fate - Chapter 5

Reincarnation AU [Chapter 5/?] Characters: Xue Yang, Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan, Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, Jin Ling, Original Characters. Pairings: Xue Yang/Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen, Lan Sizhui/Lan Jingyi

After five thousand years of solitude, crossing paths with Wei Wuxian seemed like fate. It wasn’t that Song Lan was seeking him out, or that he’d even thought about the man in centuries, but the fact that it happened not long after Xiao Xingchen’s soul had finally healed. Five thousand years of carrying the remnants of his friend in a soul-trapping pouch, of traveling the world alone, of dwelling on regret. It had beaten him down.

So when Song Lan admitted to lying about burning Xingchen’s corpse in Yi City and Wuxian offered to try resurrecting him, he couldn’t help but say yes. It was a moment of weakness that only resulted in more hurt. After Xingchen was brought back, Wuxian seemed confident that his strange behavior was just a result of having been dead and shattered for so long, and that he’d return to normal with time.

In a way, it was true. It only took a few months for Xingchen to stop trying to pull Song Lan’s eyes out of his head at random times. He was thankful for that at least, but having his friend back wasn’t what he’d expected. Xiao Xingchen was distant, staying in his room alone for weeks at a time, frequently wandering away from the temple on his own, and, no matter what Song Lan did, never spoke a word. It was like living with a ghost.

Three hundred years passed this way. Song Lan tended to Xingchen- brought him tea, washed his clothes, gave him as much space as he could bare- and in turn, Xingchen ignored his presence. He was starting to think that was just the way their lives were, until he returned home from a night-hunt to an empty temple. At first, it didn’t seem unusual. Xingchen would sometimes disappear for a few days before coming back with no explanation as to where he was.

But days passed and he didn’t return. When weeks passed, Song Lan had to go looking for him. Thankfully, being two of the only fierce corpses left in the world, locating each other wasn’t terribly difficult. Xingchen’s yin energy lingered in the air, leaving a trail to follow. A trail that led to where Yi City used to be. By now, the buildings had been torn down, or fell down on their own, and the entire area had been reclaimed by nature.

“Xiao Xingchen…”

“...”

“Why would you come back here?”

Xingchen turned around slowly, meeting Song Lan’s gaze. His blank expression revealed no hint as to what he was thinking.

“What do you expect to find here? There’s nothing left.”

Xingchen looked away for a moment, thoughtful eyes slowly scanning the wooded area before reaching a hand into one of his sleeves and pulling something out. He looked back up at Song Lan again and held the object out for him to see. In the palm of his hand was a flat hair ornament made of gold, shaped into a sharp design. Song Lan looked at it in disbelief.

“Is that actually his?”

Xingchen nodded.

“How did you find that?”

He closed his hand around it and turned away.

Song Lan approached him, hesitantly placing a hand on Xingchen’s shoulder. “He’s dead. He’s not going to hurt you anymore.”

Xingchen frowned and shrugged Song Lan’s hand off. Shaking his head, he started to walk away. Song Lan tried to follow, but Xingchen turned back immediately, putting his hand against Song Lan’s chest and then pointed to the ground. Feeling hurt, but knowing there was no point in following Xingchen if he didn’t want him around, Song Lan nodded solemnly and went back to the temple alone. Ten years passed without a word from the other man.

When he returned at last, Xingchen walked straight past Song Lan with JiangZai strapped to his back. Resentful energy boiled over and the two clashed blades, nearly destroying half the temple in the process. Xingchen refused to concede and wouldn’t let the other man lay a finger on JiangZai. In the end, there was nothing Song Lan could do. Xingchen kept the sword and Song Lan went back to pretending he wasn’t bothered by his companion’s silence.

After that, Xingchen’s weird behavior slowly subsided. He seemed content with having found the sword and never pressed the issue further. Although it seemed like Xingchen would never regain his voice, their relationship had regained some semblance of the past. They took their meals together and shared pots of tea and lived a peaceful life in the temple. The damages done to the architecture were repaired and their dispute was forgotten.

~X~

Morning came and Chen woke beside an empty bed. Looking around the room, Xinyi was nowhere to be found. QianHua was still asleep, so Chen snuck out on his own. After checking through the areas of the temple he knew, he made his way outside to the courtyard. Xinyi was sitting at one of the low tables, hunched over with his back to Chen. For a moment, he wondered if Xinyi was actually trying to finish transcribing the Lan principles from yesterday.

Chen crossed the yard and looked over Xinyi’s shoulder. Instead of the materials from Jingyi’s punishment, Chen saw the familiar notebook Xinyi kept on him. His phone was opened to a picture of an old book Chen recognized from the Wang collection. He sighed, sitting down next to his friend and leaned his head on his shoulder.

“Couldn’t sleep again?”

“Mm.”

“Why are you always copying that book?”

Xinyi shrugged, still copying the characters into his notebook. “It gives me something to focus on.”

“I haven’t seen you work on it in a while.”

“Mm.”

“Are you okay?”

Xinyi nodded, putting his pencil down and straightening up. “I’m fine. I just couldn’t sleep.”

Chen nodded and, after a moment, Xinyi went back to writing in his notebook. The sun slowly crept up and Chen dozed off, still perched on Xinyi’s shoulder. When the first of the students started pouring into the courtyard, Xinyi closed the notebook and tucked it back into his bag. QianHua came out to sit beside them and Chen moved to his own table to wait for breakfast.

He couldn’t help but worry. Xinyi was quiet throughout breakfast, barely touched his food, and looked positively exhausted. Chen knew better than to press further if Xinyi had insisted he was fine. But he also knew his friend had hardly slept since they got to the temple. He could hear him getting up in the middle of the night and coming back at nearly dawn. He could see the circles under his eyes getting darker every day.

Glancing at MingYue, Chen wondered if her presence was the cause of Xinyi’s distress. While he’d suffered from nightmares the entire time Chen knew him, he usually just brushed them off and went back to sleep. Realizing MingYue was staring back at him now, he turned his head away quickly, still feeling her eyes on him long after looking elsewhere. Something about her unnerved him, and not just that she was Xinyi’s ex. She was too calm about everything. Her eyes were too analytical.

If they’d been lucky, their day’s activity would have been something active, something to distract them from their thoughts. Instead, Song Lan passed out blank fans for them to decorate. Chen sighed. He’d never been very artistic. He liked the fans they’d seen on their tour of the temple, but there was no way he’d be able to even come close to making a fan that nice. Beside him, Xinyi and QianHua had already set to work on theirs.

“A-Xin. What are you painting?” Chen asked, leaning over.

Xinyi shrugged. “Trees, I guess. A lot of the fans I’ve seen have trees on them.”

QianHua leaned over, a lame smile plastered across his face. “I drew you Chen.”

QianHua’s fan had a poorly drawn face, intentionally ugly looking, with the only indication that it was Chen being the glasses. Chen rolled his eyes and went back to working on his own. He tried his best to paint seriously, but his lines were too thick to be branches and his flowers bled into misshapen blotches. Having run out of space on his fan to draw, Chen gave up and looked back over to Xinyi, a new wave of concern coming over him.

Xinyi was gripping his paintbrush with a shaky hand, a hint of sweat glistening on his forehead. He was staring straight ahead at the temple, looking as though he’d seen a ghost. Chen followed his gaze, trying to see whatever it was Xinyi was looking at. Seeing nothing abnormal about the temple, Chen reached a hand out and touched Xinyi’s arm to get his attention. The man jumped and shot his gaze over at Chen, quickly relaxing his features.

“What?”

“A-Xin, you look like you saw a ghost. What’s wrong?”

Xinyi laughed. “Why are you always so superstitious? Nothing’s wrong.”

Chen frowned.

“I’m fine, Chen, really.”

Chen dropped the subject. As everyone finished their fans, Sizhui finally concluded whatever serious conversation he’d been having with Jin Ling at the top of the stares. He looked worried about whatever the two had been discussing, but resumed his usual look when he sat down in front of the class, setting his fingers across the surface of the guqin on his table. He plucked a few strings, seeming to still be a little distracted, but quickly recovered and set to strumming out an actual rhythm.

As though Sizhui’s song had summoned him, the white silhouette of Xiao Xingchen appeared at the temple door. Instinctively, Chen looked over at Xinyi again, unsurprised to find his friend already staring at the man. He’d done the same thing the night before at dinner, seeming hypnotized by the very sight of him. Turning his gaze back to the priest, he frowned, feeling a twinge of jealousy. The man’s appearance was truly top notch. There wasn’t a single hair out of place or blemish on his skin. He had prominent cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a slender, graceful figure. Everything about him was perfect and refined.

It made perfect sense why anyone would stare at Xiao Xingchen. It was hard not to look at him. But what Chen was surprised by was the fact that Xiao Xingchen was also staring back at Xinyi.

~X~

With the sudden surge of restless spirits in the temple, it was obvious Xinyi’s awakening had progressed. It had been the same way with Wen Qing all those years ago. What seemed like a random swell of yin energy had turned out to be ghosts of the past, drawn to Qing’s growing spiritual instability. With so many bystanders, Sizhui’s safest course of action was to find inconspicuous times to play Clarity in Xinyi’s presence. It would only quell his qi temporarily, but until the students left Leng Shuang, a temporary fix was all they had.

Sitting down at his guqin, Sizhui stole a quick glance at Xinyi, assessing his current state. He looked tired, distracted, and more than a little unnerved, but he lacked the wild-eyed look Xue Yang was known for. Sizhui set to work, playing the Song of Clarity with his qi directed at XInyi, occasionally looking up at him to see what effect the tune was having on him. Although the boy seemed more relaxed, it was hard to say for sure if it was Clarity’s effects…. Or Xiao Xingchen’s sudden appearance behind him.

It was strange. Seeing someone from his past, especially someone he shared such a deep-rooted hatred with, should have disrupted Xinyi’s qi. But instead, he seemed subdued by Xingchen’s presence. Even stranger, Xingchen seemed equally at ease in Xinyi’s presence, as though greeting an old friend. By the time Sizhui was strumming out the last few chords, Xingchen had descended the stairs and was seated at a low table alongside him and Jingyi.

With the activity and Sizhui’s song finished, the students were dismissed for a few hours, warned not to stray too far from the temple and to be back by lunch time. With the courtyard mostly clear, the cultivators congregated around Sizhui.

“Seems like it worked.” Jingyi said, pouring tea for his companions. “At least for now.”

“Mm.” Sizhui nodded in agreement, taking a cup from Jingyi.

“What do you intend to do when the week ends?” Song Lan asked.

“Jingyi will take everyone back. Jin Ling and I will stay behind with Xinyi to induce his awakening. If we’re lucky, his memories will splice together with his current life cohesively, and he’ll resume a normal life.” Sizhui explained calmly, pausing only to sip his tea. “If not… we’ll have no choice but to kill him.”

Xingchen rapped his fingers across the surface of his table, a small frown on his lips.

“How can someone like him recover his memories and live a normal life?” Song Lan asked, staring into his tea. “It seems like this situation has no positive outcome.”

“Actually.” Sizhui set his cup down. “This isn’t the first time I’ve come across an unfriendly face. I think it was about 1,200 years ago, I encountered the soul of Wen Chao. I had the same worries about him that you have for Xue Yang. As he neared awakening, I was prepared to kill him. To my surprise, he recovered from the initial shock quite well and committed himself to making up for the crimes of his past life.”

Song Lan gaped at him, shocked that someone as dishonourable as Wen Chao could have such an easy awakening. Beside him, Xingchen changed the rhythm he was drumming with his fingers, a small smile having returned to his face. After a moment, he rose to his feet, bowed to the others, and strolled out the front gate. Song Lan followed him with his eyes, looking just a little annoyed.

“Daozhang. Is everything ok?” Jingyi asked once Xingchen was out of earshot.

Song Lan frowned. “Xingchen is…”

He fell silent for a moment. Sizhui grew rigid with anticipation, worried he’d created too much of a burden for the two men by bringing Xinyi here. He thought about offering to take Xinyi away from the temple and dealing with his awakening without Song Lan.

“I don’t understand it.” Song Lan continued at last. “I don’t know if something went wrong with his reanimation, or if this is just a side of him I never saw, but he’s not the same.”

“Is that why he doesn’t talk?” Jin Ling asked, having just assumed until now that the silence was a normal part of Xingchen’s personality.

“Yes. He hasn’t said a word in the past three thousand years.” Song Lan looked down at his hands. “Our relationship almost seemed normal again, but since you all arrived… He’s grown distant again. It’s like he wants Xue Yang to remember.”

Song Lan sighed, shaking his head slightly. Raising to his feet, he gave a brief bow to the other cultivators and went inside. The others exchanged concerned looks, but had no idea how to comfort Song Lan in this kind of circumstance. After a while, Jin Ling ducked out too, exchanging a few words with MingYue on his way out.

~X~

As though last night’s nightmares had acted as a trigger, all throughout the day Xinyi continued to see ghosts. For the most part, they remained in the background as movements out of the corner of his eye, or appearing at a distance for only a second, but there was one that seemed to be getting bolder throughout the day. She was probably only a few years older than Xinyi, with a pretty, oval face and innocent features. Dressed in finer robes, she may have been some kind of noblewoman, and unlike the other ghosts, she wasn’t covered in blood or crying or angry. On the contrary, she was a smiling ghost, and somehow that unnerved Xinyi even more.

The ghost girl had first appeared early in the morning, standing in the far corner of the courtyard, watching him work on his notebook. Then, again at the temple door while they were painting their fans. As soon as they were dismissed from the courtyard, Xinyi bolted out into the woods down to the river, praying she was somehow bound to the temple and unable to follow him. He didn’t even wait for Chen, unable to stomach the worrying looks anymore.

Veering off to the left, Xinyi followed the river up to where a bridge connected the two shores and crossed it halfway. He sat down on the low railing and looked around, making sure there were no lurking spirits before finally letting out a breath of relief. Watching the river rush by beneath him, Xinyi wondered if any of this would be happening if he hadn’t come on this trip. Sure, he’d had nightmares long before this, but they hadn’t been quite this bad, and he definitely hadn’t seen ghosts prior to this. It felt like he was going crazy.

“Avoiding your friends?”

Xinyi looked up at the sound of the voice, immediately smiling at the sight of Xiao Xingchen striding gracefully down the hill.

“Can’t I want to be alone without it being considered ‘avoiding’?”

Xingchen came up to stand in front of him, smiling down at him. “Am I disturbing your alone time, then?”

“Of course not.” Xinyi replied, shaking his head. “Actually, I was hoping to see you again.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Two reasons.” Xinyi stood, holding up two fingers. “First, I had a question. At dinner last night… You didn’t talk at all, right?”

Xingchen’s head cocked to the side ever so slightly. “Were you watching me all night?”

“Well… No, not all night- I mean. It sounds bad if you say it like that.”

The older man laughed softly. “How else should I say it?”

Xinyi frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “I just noticed when Daozhang and Jiaoshou were talking, you never seemed to reply or say anything yourself.”

Xingchen looked up at the sky, still smiling, silent for a moment before replying. “I prefer not to talk in front of Zichen.”

“Hm? Zichen?”

He looked back at Xinyi. “Song Lan.”

“Oh… Why?”

“Mm…. It wasn’t intentional at first. I was unable to speak for a long time.” Xingchen explained carefully, seeming restrained. “By the time I was able to again, I felt it would only complicate things.”

“Complicate things?”

Xingchen looked down at Xinyi silently for a few heartbeats, his expression giving no hint as to what he was thinking.

“Zichen had questions about things that were difficult to put into words, and wanted to have conversations about things I didn’t want to talk about. Anything I have to say would just be hurtful, so it’s easier to say nothing at all.”

Xinyi nodded slowly, curious as all hell but it seemed too sensitive a topic for a stranger like him to be prodding into. Seeing Xingchen and Song Lan together, they certainly seemed comfortable around each other, affectionate even, but Xingchen’s words showed there was some degree of animosity present.

“What was the other reason?”

“Hm?” Xinyi looked back at Xingchen, shaking the thoughts from his head. “Other reason?”

“The other reason you were hoping to see me.” Xingchen replied, laughing that sweet laugh again.

“Oh! Right. That is…” Xinyi reached into his robe and pulled out the fan he painted. “A gift. For you.”

Xingchen’s eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. “A gift? What for?”

“No reason. Or, I guess, kind of a thank you?” Xinyi looked away, feeling suddenly very anxious under Xingchen’s gaze. “For helping me last night.”

The older man reached out and took the fan from Xinyi, their fingers brushing together, lingering for just a second. Xinyi looked back up, watching Xingchen unfold the fan to examine the painting on it. For a moment, his expression faltered, seeming torn between thoughts. Xinyi’s heart skipped, feeling like maybe he’d made a mistake in giving Xingchen a gift.

“How did you paint this?”

“Just. With the paint and stuff Song Lan gave us.”

“No, I mean how did you paint this mountain specifically. How do you know this image?”

Xinyi paused, glancing down at the painting on the fan, and shrugged. “I didn’t think I was painting anything in particular. Is there… something wrong?”

“This is…The mountain I grew up on.”

Xinyi gave him a bemused look. “It’s just a regular mountain, how can you tell?”

Xingchen turned the fan around and pointed at a particular curve of lines where the mountain jutted out awkwardly. “This cliff. The tree clinging to the side of it. That’s where my temple was.”

They both fell silent for a moment. Xingchen turned the fan back to continue examining the ink. Xinyi stared at him, feeling a strange mix of emotions. He wasn’t sure if Xingchen was fucking with him or if it was just some weird coincidence. The other man looked pretty serious about it though, fueling the anxiety bubbling in Xinyi’s stomach. After a moment, Xingchen started laughing again, soft and forgiving, instantly easing Xinyi’s nerves.

“A ghost must have guided your hand.” Xingchen said finally, all signs of apprehension melting from his expression.

Xinyi cracked up, letting his laughter move through his whole body. “Maybe so! Maybe being haunted has its perks.”

Xingchen closed the fan finally and tucked it into his sleeve. “Thank you. It’s a lovely gift.”

The complement sent Xinyi’s heart soaring, sending electricity down to his very fingertips. Xingchen was looking at him so sweetly and his face was positively glowing and everything in this moment felt absolutely perfect. The electricity moved his hand forward to grab Xingchen’s, lacing their fingers together. When the man didn’t recoil from the touch, Xinyi took his other hand as well and took a step forward. Just as he was feeling bold enough to close the gap, movement behind Xingchen drew his eye.

Standing at the end of the bridge was the smiling ghost girl, watching them intently with fiery eyes. Her appearance was more intense than the last few times he saw her and the sudden appearance extracted an involuntary ‘Oh!’ from his throat as he jolted back. The back of his legs hit the low railing of the bridge while the top of his body continued its course of motion. He toppled backwards and dropped into the river below. The speed of the water kept him trapped beneath the surface, only spitting him out about forty yards down where the water leveled out.

Xinyi came up sputtering, stumbling towards the shore. The wet robes tangled around his legs, making his movements awkward and jerky. Quickly wiping the excess water from his eyes, he looked around wildly, expecting the ghost girl to be there waiting for him. Thankfully though, the only other person he saw was Xiao Xingchen, who had waded into the water beside him with a wide-eyed look of worry. Seeing the priest look so ungraceful made Xinyi burst out laughing, nearly slipping on a loose rock.

“Wang Xinyi!” Xingchen exclaimed incredulously.

“I’m sorry! You just looked so…” Xinyi tried to stifle his laughter. “Normal! You always look like you stepped right out of a painting, but just now- You really looked like a regular guy!”

Xingchen scoffed, unable to contain his own laughter now. “I thought you were going to drown!”

“Pshh, I’m not that easy to kill!” Xinyi replied with a wink.

In a moment of sheer childishness, Xingchen swiped his hand through the water, splashing it up into Xinyi’s face. Xinyi froze and looked at Xingchen in disbelief, shocked that the perfectly pristine and reverant Taoist priest would stoop to his level of horseplay. Recovering from the shock, he splashed back, breaking out into laughter again. Xingchen lifted his arm, blocking the attack with the flared sleeve of his robe.

In the moment Xingchen’s vision was blocked, Xinyi took the opportunity to close the space between them again, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist. Xingchen turned his head back to face Xinyi, his smile faded but not entirely gone.

“Xiao Xingchen.” Xinyi said quietly, a half smile still present. “What should I do when the week is over and I can’t see you anymore?”

Xingchen brought a hand up to Xinyi’s face, pushing strands of wet hair from his cheeks. “Are you already so attached to me?”

Yes! Of course I am! How could anyone look at someone so perfect and not get attached?

The thoughts raced through his head, but he knew better than to say it out loud. In reality, Xinyi couldn’t explain why he felt so attached to Xiao Xingchen, considering they’d only briefly interacted a handful of times. Even so, the idea of leaving in a few days and never seeing Xingchen again nearly broke his heart. He knew it made no sense, and probably sounded childish and naive, but it was the case nonetheless.

Xingchen flattened his hand to Xinyi’s face, cupping his cheek gently. “What should I do if you’ve already run out of things to say to me?”

“I haven’t!” Xinyi frowned. “But how do I explain being attached to you after knowing you for such a short time without sounding stupid…”

The man laughed, his whole face lighting up like the sun. He brought his other hand to Xinyi’s cheek, holding his face with both hands. Before he had a chance to process what was happening, Xingchen leaned forward and pressed his lips to Xinyi’s. He inhaled sharply, feeling like a fire had just been lit in his stomach. Leaning into the kiss, his hands closed around the fabric of Xingchen’s robes, holding onto him as though he was worried the man might disappear into thin air.

Xingchen pulled away too soon, cutting a perfectly good kiss too short. Xinyi opened his eyes, looking up at Xingchen with a look of awe. The man chuckled softly, seeming amused by the way Xinyi was looking at him. He released Xinyi’s face and began walking back to shore, ringing out the sleeves of his robe. The younger man pouted, knowing their latest brief encounter was about to come to an end. Xingchen was always the one to walk away first, leaving Xinyi feeling some kind of way.

Once Xingchen had disappeared from his sight, Xinyi let out a sigh, kicking the water in disappointment. As he waded out of the river and began trudging back to the bridge, his face was hurting from how wide he was smiling. It wasn’t until he had walked all the way back up the river, crossed the bridge, and got back to the road that he remembered he’d left his bag in the courtyard. He jogged the rest of the way back, feeling that familiar anxiety of having forgotten your belongings in a public space.

Chen and QianHua caught up to him just as he was passing through the gate, immediately giving him shit for ditching them. His bag was just where he left it, so his attention redirected to the tangent QianHua had launched into. Heading back into the temple so Xinyi could put on dry clothes, he grabbed his bag absentmindedly as they passed by- freezing dead in his tracks as soon as it was in his hand. It was entirely too light. Something was missing.

“A-Xin?” Chen turned to look at him questioningly.

Xinyi lifted his bag up in front of him and opened it. As the anxiety swelled around him, overlapping whispers filled his ears. He reached his hand into the bag, feeling around for the missing item. The whispers grew louder. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see shadows darting back and forth around him. He looked up, turning to look at who else was in the courtyard.

Most of the students were still playing around the river, but there was a group of five or six people on the other side of the yard. Just as Xinyi was starting to wonder if he’d put the notebook back in his room and simply forgotten, solid movement caught his eye. MingYue was descending the stairs with a golden-toned husky at her side, heading towards the group of students. The whispers in his ears were growing louder, some of them practically yelling. At the bottom of the stairs, the Smiling Ghost caught his attention, grinned wider, and pointed at MingYue.

A startling anger welled in his chest and he began moving to intercept MingYue. Chen and QianHua chased after him, questioning his sudden change in demeanor. When Chen grabbed his shoulder, Xinyi practically shoved him off his feet. Reaching the group at the same time as MingYue, he pushed his way past three people and shot his hand out. He grabbed her throat hard and shoved her back about a foot. She lifted off the ground for just a moment before the students around them jumped on Xinyi and pulled him off of her.

“A-Xin, what-”

“WHERE THE FUCK IS IT.” Xinyi shouted, struggling against the hands holding him in place. “GIVE IT BACK.”

MingYue was leaning into another girl, her hands at her throat and tears in her eyes. “Where’s what?”

“DON’T BULLSHIT ME, I KNOW YOU TOOK IT.”

Chen and QianHua were at his side now, struggling alongside everyone else to hold Xinyi in place.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tears spilled over and streamed down her cheeks now.

Behind MingYue, Smiling Ghost was nodding at Xinyi, silently egging him on.

“IF YOU DON’T GIVE IT BACK, I SWEAR I’LL STRANGLE YOU TO DEATH AND PULL IT OFF YOUR FUCKING CORPSE-”

The loud clap of skin on skin silenced the commotion and echoed through the court. Pain blossomed across Xinyi’s cheek as he slowly turned his head to see what just happened. Summoned by the disconcerting shouting, Xingchen had descended on the group and grabbed Xinyi by the hair. Jerking him around to face him, Xingchen slapped Xinyi hard across the face, putting a screeching halt on his rampage.

Xinyi stared back at him, his mouth slightly agape in shock. Blinking a few times, he seemed to come back to himself. Smiling Ghost had vanished along with the maddening whispers, leaving Xinyi to slowly realize what he’d just said to MingYue. He gave her a horrified look, stumbling back a step, looked back at Xingchen, and spun on his heel to stagger back into the temple. Xiao Xingchen was the only one brave enough to follow.

“Wang Xinyi.” Xingchen said sternly once they were away from the watchful eyes of the crowd outside.

Xinyi stopped. Xingchen grabbed his arm and forced him to turn around.

“Look at me.”

Trembling, his gaze remained glued to the floor. “What’s wrong with me?”

Xingchen paused, his anger diminishing a little.

Xinyi looked up slightly, tears falling down his face, still avoiding the other's stare. “Xingchen. What’s happening to me? Why did I do that?”

His breathing quickened, shaking his body harder. His eyes were blown open, looking straight through Xingchen as if he weren’t there. Hands coming up to the sides of his head, Xinyi let out a short, horrified wail. His fingers tangled through his hair, gripped it as if he were about to tear it out, and broke out into heavy sobs.

“How could I say something like that?!” Through his tears, he met Xingchen’s eyes finally. “Xiao Xingchen, what’s happening to me?I”

[bae-in-maine]

Prompt: Clexa have just met but already hate each other. Now they're stuck in a malfunctioning elevator and one of them is wearing the other one's coffee.... but they still kiss by the time the elevator is up and running again 😏

Love this! Hope you like it. I had a lot of fun with it. 

********************************

“Look, I said I was sorry about the coffee.”

Lexa ignored the other woman as she tried to mop up thecoffee stain that had managed to spread almost entirely across the front of herwhite, button down shirt. She winced as she dabbed at the edges of her jacketlapel, glad that most of the coffee had been soaked up by the shirt and not theexpensive suit jacket. The shirt was just one of half a dozen exactly like it,but the suit jacket was her favorite.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that some train-wreck of a woman hadbarreled onto the elevator just as the doors were closing and managed to spill Lexa’scoffee all over herself, but the elevator ground to a shuddering halt almost assoon as the doors had closed. A quick call to maintenance with the emergencyphone had confirmed that something was wrong with the gear shaft, but theyweren’t in any danger. Supposedly. It would be fixed in about thirty minutes.

She tried not to think about what thirty minutes alone witha clearly deranged woman in a small, metal box with limited oxygen meant forher own life sustainability. She had never been particularly keen on closedspaces, and normally she took the stairs, but she had been late for a last-minutemeeting: a meeting she hadn’t wanted to attend at all, but she had been unableto weasel her way out of it.

“Jeez, you don’t need to be such a cold bitch about it,”huffed the blonde as she set her large leather case and canvas bag on theelevator floor, papers spilling out of the top.

“Cold bitch?!” Lexa froze mid-mop, her mouth hanging openslightly at the audacity of the other woman. “Well, if you weren’t a blondehurricane and were more organized, you wouldn’t have crashed into me,” mutteredLexa with disgust as she carefully folded her handkerchief and tucked it backinto her black suit pants. The shirt was a lost cause, and there was no use wastingmore time on trying to fix the damage.

“Blonde?!” sputtered the other woman, as she pushed saidblonde hair out of her eyes. “Was that your lame attempt at a fucking blondejoke? I’ve heard them all, so don’t even try.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest,cocking one hip slightly in what she hoped was a power stance. For despitetheir almost same height, the other woman was rather imposing in the dark suit,and once crisp white shirt. Her jawline alone looked like it could cut her, andher mossy, green eyes were cold and aloof.

Lexa sighed and tucked her hand into her pocket, the otherhand white knuckling the strap of her slim briefcase. “No, ‘blonde’ is simply adescriptor,” she shrugged a little. “Not like I could call you a curvyhurricane,” she muttered staring straight ahead at the number panel.

“You just fucking did,” Clarke pointed out. She narrowed hereyes, pursing her lips, her voice dropping slightly. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

“Oh my God,” muttered Lexa. She could fee the start of aheadache blooming behind her eyes, and she squinted her eyes in a vain effortto stave off the pain.

“No, you are beautiful.” She almost snarled the last word,not really wanting to admit to this frustrating creature that the first thingshe’d noticed about her was that despite her messy entrance into Lexa’s neatlyordered life, the woman was beautiful.

Clarke was surprised by the other woman’s admission, and shelet her arms drop down to her hip as she leaned back against the railing. Shesmirked a little, her day had certainly taken a turn for the better, or atleast for the interesting.

“You think I’m beautiful.”

“No.”

“But you just said…”

“Please stop talking. Just…please.” Lexa rubbed her palmacross her forehead and then pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to quell theslight nausea in her belly. The headache was certainly not going to leave onits own and her pills were in her desk.

“It’s bad enough that we are stuck in this…” She grit herteeth trying not to raise her voice, as her patience was wearing thin, “elevatorwithout you…” She didn’t bother to finish the sentence, just waving her hand inClarke’s vague direction.

“What? Breathing? Should I stop doing that also?” Sassed Clarkeas she put her hands behind her to grip the railing and leaned forward slightly.She grinned when she saw Lexa stiffen slightly. Clearly the woman had excellentperipheral vision and had seen the way Clarke’s new stance amplified some ofher…assets.

“No, of course you shouldn’t stop breathing. Don’t beridiculous,” muttered Lexa as she stared straight ahead, trying not to look tothe side, having already managed to catch a glimpse of Clarke’s ample cleavage.She could feel the blush heat her cheekbones, and she prayed the other womanwouldn’t notice.

“You’re a bit red in the face.”

Obviously, some prayers weren’t going to be answered, andthe universe hated Lexa.

“It’s warm in here,” but her excuse sounded weak even to herown ears.

“Uh huh.” Clarke said nothing more, taking pity on the woman.For the moment.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stop breathing?”

“Oh God…just…why are you so infuriating?!” Lexa spun on herheel and faced Clarke, wincing at the impish grin on the other woman’s face.

“Infuriating? Really? I thought I was curvy and beautiful?”She let go of the railing and took a small step forward, grinning at the wayLexa’s eyes betrayed her and swept down across her chest, before abruptly goingback to her face. She congratulated herself on her choice of the thin scoopedneck t-shirt.

Lexa blushed again and groaned, looking away, knowing she’dbeen caught. And she had the disquieting notion that she had done exactly whatthe other woman wanted.

“Nothing is going right today,” she sighed. She shook herhead, eyes staring fixedly beyond Clarke’s shoulder. “I have to deal with some artistbum today that my partner insisted…absolutely insisted, we hang his paintingsin the lobby to make it more welcoming.” She scoffed, “it’s probably somegeneric, art shit you see in run-down hotels. Not that Anya actually gives ashit. No, this has her girlfriend’s hand written all over it. Apparently, sheis friendly with this bloke.”

Lexa blushed when she came to the end of her tirade, hereyes flicking to Clarke’s face, noting the way her blue eyes sort of gleamed,the way her lips turned up at the corners, giving her an almost impish quality.

“Who is the artist?”

It took her a minute to realize Clarke had spoken. “I don’tknow. Clark something or other.”

Clarke laughed and shook her head, “Oh you really are notgoing to enjoy this, but I am.” She stuck out her hand waiting until a surprisedLexa took it. “Hi, I’m Clarke Griffin. The blonde, curvy, beautiful artists bumwith the shitty hotel art.”

“Fuck me,” groaned Lexa, embarrassment clawing its way outof her chest.

“Well, ok, but I am a little old fashioned. I like to takemy ladies out to dinner before I fuck them.”

Lexa choked, suddenly thankful that Clarke had spilled Lexa’scoffee all over herself, and thereby managed to avoid a humiliating spit-take.

“Don’t let the jeans and t-shirt fool you, especially thet-shirt, which you really seem to like.” Clarke winked at Lexa. “But my work isin galleries all up and down the East Coat and sells for thousands of dollars.”

Lexa could only nod numbly. This day had gone from bad to humiliating,and it was still only nine in the morning.

“Look, I might have something you might like.” Clarke unzippedthe large leather case, “This is my portfolio. These are pictures of some ofthe paintings I was bringing by to show…” She chuckled, “well I guess to showyou.”

She flipped a few pages until she found what she was lookingfor. The original was done in bright oils, two figures huddled under anumbrella, walking down a wet street, street lights glowing in the rainy night.

Lexa peered closely at it, a bit in awe of the blues and redsand blacks swirling together to create the feeling of solitude and peace. “I…wow…thisis really…I had no idea.”

“Thank you.” Clarke started to flip a few more pages whenLexa reached out and tapped a page, her finger landing on the corner.

“What is this one.”

“Oh this isn’t for you,” chuckled Clarke, blushing a little.“It was commissioned by a friend of mine, and I have to deliver it tomorrow. It’s…well…lovers.”

“Clearly,” murmured Lexa as she stared at the two women entwinedin what was obviously post-coital bliss.

“It’s really…I mean…” She blushed and rubbed the back of herneck. “I am actually paid a lot of money for my eloquence in board meetings.”

“Don’t worry, I have that effect on women,” teased Clarke asshe winked at Lexa.

“I bet,” muttered Lexa as she straightened a little andlooked at her watch, realizing the elevator was supposed to be fixed anymoment, and she was suddenly regretting it.

Clarke carefully closed her portfolio and set it down at herfeet. “So do you hate me less now than you did twenty minutes ago?”

“I didn’t hate you,” protested Lexa.

“Oh really, Commander. The look you gave me when I spilledyour coffee…well, I was pretty fucking sure you were an Ice Queen that had justfrozen hell making Satan himself piss his pants.”

“I’m not that bad!” Lexa smiled slightly and gave Clarke alittle shrug.

“You can make it up to me by saying yes.” Clarke inchedcloser to Lexa, her breasts brushing against Lexa’s.

“T-to what?” Lexa swallowed thickly, her eyes almostcrossing as she strained not to look below Clarke’s face.

“Just say yes,” murmured Clarke leaning in just enough sothat Lexa could feel her breath against her lips.

“Yes.”

“Good, girl,” murmured Clarke as she brushed her lipsagainst Lexa’s, smiling at the way Lexa’s eyes fluttered shut.  

“Dinner tonight.” She leaned back in, pressing her lips toLexa’s, smiling at the way the other woman opened her mouth just enough for herto slip her tongue inside for a taste.

The elevator jolted to life, throwing Clarke hard into Lexa.Lexa winced when the railing bit into her back, but her arms were sure andstrong around Clarke, who was now pressed tight against her.

“What is your name?” Clarke reached up, tangling her fingersin Lexa’s long hair, her lips against her cheek.

“Alexandria.”

“I’m going to call you Lexa.”

Lexa carefully pushed away from the wall, still holdingClarke tightly. She huffed a little. “No one calls me Lexa.” She frowned.

“I do.”

“But I…” Lexa laughed, “Uff. Ok, I give up.”

Lexa wrapped her arms tighter around Clarke, thanking theuniverse for spilled coffee and stuck elevators.

[lubdubsworld]

Bird Bones ( Jung Kook/Oc)

summary : 

A small town filled with secrets. A young boy who wants to break free. A young girl who only wants to protect her baby. 

Bird bones shatter so easily, 

just like hearts , dancing to love’s melody. 

Chapter 1. 

A small town in Busan,

 Sometime in the 90s. 

Bird Bones.

That's what my father used to call me when i was a kid.

"Your're so fragile Dasom, " he would say, gripping the huge piece of concrete as he single-handedly maneuvered it into the sculpting stand in his studio. He would then proceed to chip away at the block , cutting and molding it into something beautiful. Most of my memories of him were happy ones. I loved my father. And i know, that deep down my mother had loved him too.

They weren't married. In fact they never even liked each other that much , or so it seemed. But my mother let me stay with my father often and didn't try to poison my mind against him. she accepted that he was a flawed human, unwilling to be tied down and she respected his choice to be a single and free artist as opposed to a committed husband and father. 

Not to say he wasn't a good father. He was. Probably a better father than some of the douchey ones that came to pick my friends at school, who treated their kids like non-entities and took for granted the security that came with a legal family.

Bird Bones.

Why did he call me that, i used to wonder. I wasn't fragile physically. I was normal. Tall at around 5'5". A healthy 110 pounds. I had bouncy black hair, long and strong and my waistline was always trim enough to squeeze into size 6 jeans. 

But then , I had my first brush with evil and i knew exactly what he meant.

"You're a bastard! Your father never even wanted you enough to marry your mother!" A boy in eighth grade threw at me and honestly, it felt a bit like my heart had been frozen to sub zero temperatures before being shattered by a well-aimed blow with a hammer. I stood in the cafeteria, unsure how to react to the vindictive fury in the boy's tone and unsure what i'd done to deserve it.

My bones felt like they were being shattered and suddenly it made sense.

Apparently , a few harsh words was all it took to shatter my bird bones.

And now, here i was , sitting with my fingers entwined on my lap while Jeon Jung Kook stood a few feet away, his father and mother glaring down at me with such evident disgust while their son looked frustratingly blank.

"So, you're not going to have an abortion?" Mr. Jeon barked loud and angry and I swallowed, glancing up at Jung Kook for some kind of support. I was here, alone and pregnant, facing down one of the biggest media entertainment moguls in the country.

 All because of one night of alcohol induced bad decisions. 

 Was it worth it, Somie?

I didn't even remember the night.

" No. I'm not. "

"Are you ... against abortions?" His mother said with a frown .

Jung kook sighed.

"Dad, Mom. Just stop, will you. It's her body. She's the one who gets to decide. It's not like she owes us an explanation." He said calmly.

Jung kook apparently had a functioning brain.

who knew?

Jung Kook was the golden child in our small town .

 Like me , he was a senior in the Jeon Academy of Arts, majoring in dance and music while I majored in Englkish Lit., and Creative Writing.. He was also a successful Indie singer, the heir to his father's immensely succesful company . 

"You do know Jung kook is engaged to marry Sana?" Mrs. Jeon said loftily, looking down on me with evident distaste. 

Sana was the daughter of the Dean in our college. She was just one of those girls that you couldn’t help but like. She was beautiful, friendly and nice. Granted, she had her own clique of rich girlfriends and she seldom acknowledged the rest of us but she didn’t go out of her way to bully people either.

“ "I wish them the best. " I said lamely and mostly sincerely.

Jung Kook snorted and I felt myself turn red. 

Why was he such a jerk, really? And what had I been thinking?

"If this gets out, it could be a really bad thing for us and our family. Not to mention the emotional distress that would cause our daughter in law. So we've drawn up this NDA..."

"What?" I blinked.

"It's a non disclosure agreement. You sign this and agree that Jung Kook waives off all responsibilities as father. " Mr. Jeon said firmly.

Jung kook looked embarassed , not meeting my eyes and I just stared at him in disbelief. 

“I... what?” I said , surprised. 

" Ms. Lee , my son will pay, out of his own savings , for your confinement and your delivery. He will also support the kid till he or she turns 18. Any expenses incurred while raising the kid would have to be cataloged and recorded and sent to us at the end of each month so we can reimburse you for it. But , in return, you promise us that you do not reveal the baby's parentage to anyone. including your son or daughter."

The last bit made my fists clench. My father hadn't wanted to marry my mother. But he had at least wanted to love me. To know me.

I couldn't even bring myself to look at Jung Kook.

Mr. Jeon bowed gracefully.

"Of course, you don’t have to answer at once.. You can take a whole week to discuss it with your family. It's quite the offer, you know."

"She doesn't have a family." Mrs. Jeon smirked and I bit my lips.

Mr. Jeon frowned.

"What?"

"Her mother was an unmarried mother as well . She ran off with some man or the other and dumped Ms. Lee here with her philandering father. The man died a few years back. As they say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." She scowled at me.

Jung kook made a noise of impatience and stepped forward. 

"Mother, that's enough. Da Som ssi... Please let me escort you to my car." Jung Kook materialized right next to me, fingers curving around my upper arm in a firm grip as he glared at his mother. 

I was too shocked from the blow of her words to resist, letting myself be lifted out of the chair and led down the corridor. I felt completely stunned , my mind short circuiting and we were half way across the parking lot before I came to my senses.

"i can take a cab." i choked out, yanking my hand away from his.

Jung Kook sighed.

"Don't be irrationally stubborn. I'll drop you off at the dorm. " He said gently. I stared at him, remembering the way he's brushed me off in front of his friends. That was less than a week ago.

"Don't act like you even care." I opened my mouth , ready to let loose when the smell of engine oil, pungent and intrusive crept up my senses.

 I felt my stomach clench, bile rising up in a sudden involuntary gush. i clamped a hand on my mouth, turning frantically before spotting the small restroom in the corner of the lot.

 it was a dungeon, hot , sweltering and not really clean but i rushed into the stall, vomiting the little bit of toast I'd swallowed for dinner. The morning sickness was by far the worst thing to happen to me.

 it left me drained and exhausted, my limbs weary and my muscles aching so badly that i wanted to curl on the dirty floor and sleep.

The knock on the stall made me jump.

"Are you okay, Da Som??" He whispered, voice urgent and mildly concerned and I wiped at my mouth with the sleeve of my sweater, feeling equal parts embarrassed and sick.

I pushed out of the stall and he looked genuinely worried, having somehow procured a small water bottle. He held it out to me.

"I keep water in my car. " He said softly and I took a gulp.

"thank you... If you could get me a cab , I'll..." i jumped a little when he took the bottle out of my hand turned on his heel, moving away to a shiny black car, probabaly very expensive,  a few feet away,

"this again! Come with me. I'll drop you off. We don't have to talk, if you don't want to." He opened the door of the car with a beep and I sighed in defeat.

"I don't want to talk." I said waspishly , letting him strap me down to the expensive leather seats, . He looked like he wanted to shout right back but he bit his lips and held it in.

"Fine."

A few minutes of silence later, Jung kook cleared his throat.

"What about Hoseok ssi ? " He said casually and I grimaced.

 Hoseok was a professor as well as a dance teacher in college and i knew he taught Jung Kook.

I didn't reply.

"Everyone in college thinks you both are an item. " He continued. "Am i even the father? You're not trying to foist off hyung's kid on me , are you?" He frowned suddenly.

I felt my blood run cold with fury.

"Why would I? If he was the father, I wouldn’t come anywhere near you and your pretentious family.. " I said softly.

Jung Kook clenched the steering hard.

"Can’t you stop with that attitude? I get that you hate me, but can you not consider my perspective?." He said.

“Why should I? I’m the one pregnant and poor.” i shot back. 

He rolled his eyes. 

 "Come on!  You're to blame for what happened that night as much as me. We were both too drunk to make an informed decision and i know that it isn't an ideal situation. But could you please not stare at me all the time like i'm scum?! it's not like I can drop my entire existence and marry you or something.!!" He growled.

I didn't want to open my mouth and bite his head off. it really wasn't even worth it, I thought.

"Like  I  want to marry you. Just drop it Jung Kook. I've already made up my mind. I'll sign the stupid NDA and you can go back to your ' life'. " I rolled my eyes.

He sighed .

"Look, I fucked up. i know ... Just... don't hate me without cause alright? I'll try to help in any way I can. Drop you off to your classes, carry your stuff , take you to the doctor appointments. Whatever. I'll take responsibility but I'm still my father's son. I can't just ... go against them or something.."

I'd had enough of the topic actually. I shifted a bit, freezing when a sudden unprovoked shaft of pain went shooting right up my spine.

"What? What's wrong?" He said quickly, one hand reaching out almost instinctively, palm open and hovering over my stomach. " Are you okay?"

I stared at his fingers, long and a little knobby, a simple silver ring on one of them.

"I'm fine.. Just hurry up. I'm cold." I muttered. He pulled his hand away and slowly swerved, moving the car to the slow lane and actually pulling over.

"what are you doing?" I said, confused. He snapped open his seat belt before shrugging out of his suit jacket. Before I could protest he draped it over my body, tucking the sleeves around my sides till i was drowning in warmth and male cologne. I almost pushed it away but it was like a little furnace, his body heat deliciously warm on my chilled arms and the scent very soothing. 

Which was a surprise in itself. I'd been feeling so turned off by smells of all kinds. I bit my lips and snuggled a bit more into the soft lining of the coat. Why the hell was it so warm. Damn this man to hell, really.

"I... Thank you. This feels nice." I said grudgingly.

Jung Kook smirked.

"You have to give it back though. It's like 3000$" He grinned.

I rolled my eyes.

"You can drop me off at the bus stop. i don't think it's good if we're seen together on campus." I said. He frowned again and I noticed ( again ) that he looked better frowning than smiling and that was just all kinds of wrong.

"Do you honestly believe that? That it's bad for you if you're seen with me?" He muttered , sounding vaguely hurt and I couldn't help the snort of disbelief.

"Are you serious right now? You've never even spoken to me before and if you start coming up to my dorm all of a sudden and then i turn up pregnant , they're going to link you to me. Which will completely defeat the purpose of the NDA your parents want me to sign..."

"Case in point. : My parents want that. I don't..."

I blinked.

"What ?"

"If I wasn't my father's son... I would do the right thing too. I mean...maybe not marry you but I'd do all the other stuff. I still want to."

"You want to help me through my pregnancy? You're serious?" I stared, completely thrown.

"why is that so hard to believe. Jesus Christ, you act like I murder puppies in my spare time or something. is it really that hard for you to accept that I'm a decent human being?" He growled.

I sighed.

"it's too late for this. Just drop me off .. somewhere and I'll talk to you when I'm not exhausted." I let my head fall back against the neck pillow.

"It's still a twenty minute drive away, your dorm. Take a nap, if you want. I'll turn down the music." He fumbled with the buttons on his stereo and I felt myself drowning a bit in confusion. Why was he being so nice?

Had I misjudged this man?

~~~~~~~~~

The next day. I found Jung kook leaning on the wall opposite my lecture hall, whistling and smiling at the passing students, exchanging hi-fives and winks with some of them. I hesitated, momentarily thrown by seeing him in the light of the day.

 In the confined darkness of the car he hadn't seemed so intimidating. But here, in the corridor, he looked devastatingly handsome and altogether out of my league. Swallowing , i tried to ignore the way his glance landed on me, pretending I hadn't noticed and moving to the entrance of the door.

"Da Som ssi!!"

I groaned.

Jung Kook sauntered over, hands in his pocket as he aimed a bright smile at me like a weapon of mass destruction. which it kind of was. Momentarily blinded by his teeth, I shook my head to clear it.

"uh.. yeah?"

Before he could reply , a familiar arm landed on my shoulder.

"Somie, did you finish typing up that report i asked you about..." Hoseok's voice was cheerful and loud as always and I tried to ignore the way the other students immediately started making faces.

But then, they were always making faces. i was used to it. 

 the thing about a small town is that everyone who has lived here has always lived here. and the children heard all the tales that the parents spun for them, and one of the favorite town stories had been the one about my mother. how she had lived in sin, carried a baby out of wedlock and then had run away with some other man. my mother was a man-crazy slut and by default, any daughter of hers should lean in that fashion, only. 

Many mothers warned their sons about me. Most girls stayed away , to avoid getting a bad reputation, by virtue of being in my company. Some of the boys thought it was a game. they made bets on who could get me into bed. Some others enjoyed acting like I had tried to chase them. They would tell elaborate tales of how I’d come onto them and how they had refused me. 

As if. 

But the most annoying ones were the ones who seemed sure that i was sleeping with Jung Hoseok. 

I wanted to snarl at all of them. 

Nothing inappropriate existed between me and Hoseok. 

He'd been my mother's best friend's son and somehow, over the years, the only person who had cared to actually stay in my life. He was just a weird combination of guardian/older brother. 

"Uh.. Jung Sunsengnim... I'll try to drop it off at your office."

"A report, Sunsengnim? What possible report could an English major have to write for the Arts department?" Jung kook butted in unceremoniously and Hoseok frowned.

"Kookie? Why are you here. You have an economics lecture that's right across campus... Kim Namjoon ssi is already on the way there. Don't miss your classes." He said sternly and Jung Kook glared but nodded.

"I'm only here to get my jacket back." He said coolly.

Silence.

For a second it seemed that everyone had heard. I felt my ears flame red.

"I'll drop it off later..." i hissed.

"When? After class? What's your last class?"

"Creative Writing.. Lecture Hall 5B ... Leave!!" I all but shouted and he smirked.

"I'll meet you outside lecture hall 5B then."

Once he left, Hoseok gave me a nice long stare.

"Care to explain?"

I groaned.

“He’s just being difficult. It’s nothing serious.” i lied swiftly . I didn’t really want to tell Hoseok that Jung Kook was the father. Hoseok was still very upset about my pregnancy . It would only make things worse if he knew that it was the star pupil in our college and someone who was already engaged. 

“I’ve told you about these rich types right? You have to ...” Hoseok began but it was a sort of recycled speech at this point. one i’d heard and mulled over a lot of times. 

“Be careful not to let them too close.” i repeated monotonously. “ i know, oppa. I’ll be fine.” 

“Okay. give him his jacket or whatever and I’ll take you home today. You want to crash at my place? I’ll make you dinner.” He smiled brightly.

I nodded swiftly. The thought of going back to my dorm wasn’t particularly appealing anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~

"I thought you'd run." Jung kook commented mildly, pushing off from the wall that he was leaning on. I’d just exited the lecture hall and i was a little surprised that he was already out here, waiting. 

 I noticed that he was wearing his usual stonewashed jeans and hoodie, sleeves rolled up to show veiny forearms. The backpack on his shoulder was Gucci, probably worth more than my entire existence. I sighed and dropped my test notes into the locker and grabbed my wallet and my messenger bag, slipping my phone into the bag before turning to him.

"If I could, i would. Unfortunately, ?i have nowhere to run to. It's either here or on the streets." I hadn't meant to unload on him and there was more than a little bitterness in my tone, but Jung Kook didn't pursue it, holding out a letter instead. I stared at it, frowning before taking it from him.

"what is this?"

"It's a letter from my family physician , exempting you from any mandatory , physically strenuous responsibilities. I heard that you volunteer at the gym and the tennis club , this will make sure you don't have to go there and you get to keep your credits too." He said swiftly. I stared at him, confused.

"Why are you doing this ?" I frowned.

He shrugged.

"It's still my baby." He said , voice going soft and i felt my heart skip a few beats. There was something oddly territorial in the way he stared at my flat stomach. i was barely six week along and it would at least be a couple of months before I would start showing.

 I couldn't think of any sensible reason to encourage this thing with Jung kook. He and I were just different on so many levels. And whatever skewed sense of responsibility was making him do this, i had to put an end to it.

"It doesn't have to be your concern, Jung Kook. I won't resent you for it either. We're both adults, here. Besides, I'm going to sign that contract your parents are drawing up, anyway. It should release you from all responsibility anyway." I said, locking up the combination lock and pocketing the keys, before starting down the hallway. I slipped the form into my bag anyway. Jung kook hurried to keep up with me, falling into step next to me while making a noise of impatience.

"About that...I was wondering.. could you maybe, not?" He said nervously.

I rolled my eyes.

"Not what?" I said confused.

"Not sign that contract.."

I stopped short and he walked right into me, hitting my back. It wasn’t intentional but he was built like a wall and i had always been a little too frail. 

the force of it ended up sending me sprawling to the floor. 

Jung kook flailed, trying to catch me but missed by an inch and i landed hard on the floor, the impact jarring me badly. I sat there, stunned and slightly winded while jung Kook looked like death, dropping to his knees next to me.

"Holy shit!! Fuck, i'm so sorry... Are you okay... Let me call an ambulance..." He grabbed his phone and i panicked.

"what.. don't! Are you insane? i just had a little fall!!" I hissed, trying to lever myself back up. My tailbone hurt a bit but otherwise, i felt fine.

"But you're pregnant! Pregnant ladies shouldn't fall!!" He shouted and I smiled before i could stop myself. 

"Jung kook, i'm fine..Stop, seriously.... Just..."

"Somie!!! What are you two upto now?" Hoseok's voice made me jump a little and i sighed in relief when I saw that he was already packed and ready, clearly done for the day.

 Next to me, jung Kook stiffened and moved a little closer, hands reaching out to grip my wrist.

"Tell him you're going home with me." He said suddenly.

I blinked.

"What?"

"I'll drop you off at your dormt. Tell him to leave." He hissed.

I stared back and forth between the pair of them, watching Hoseok stalk over across the long corridor , staring at Jung Kook very suspiciously.

"Jungkook what is wrong with you? " I stared at him, yanking my hand away from him. The touch of his fingers still lingered,

“You should be taking rest, not running around tiring yourself out. “ He said angrily and I felt my mouth drop open in mild surprise. 

“What are you even-”

“JungKook what are you doing?” Hoseok snapped and Jung Kook moved even closer, glaring defiantly. 

I sighed, too tired for games.

“I’ll be staying with Hoseok ssi, tonight.” I said bluntly.

jung Kook gaped at me . 

“What?”

“You heard me.  He is  someone very important to me. i don’t know what you’re trying to do, but this ends, now. Stop taking liberties with me.” i said angrily. 

Jung Kook frowned.

“that is my child you’re carrying. i would like to be sure that you aren’t putting him or her in danger.” 

Next to me, Hoseok let out a shocked sound. 

“Are you serious?” he glared fiercely at me and i groaned. But jung kook wasn’t done. 

“I want to think about my child. There are a lot of things that I’ve been thinking about. “ 

Hoseok gave me a look of deep disappointment and then turned to Jung kook.

“i appreciate you trying to do the right thing jung kook. But Dasom needs rest. I’ll make sure to take good care of her. And here, this is my home number.” He held a card out. “ You can call me at anytime and enquire about her whereabouts. i will call you if she needs anything , as well. “ Hoseok said reasonably. 

Jung kook looked unhappy but took the card nonetheless. 

“I don’t... i just... I want her to be safe...” He said softly. 

i stared at him, confused and annoyed and tired. 

“Leave,. jung kook. “ i whispered, before taking Hoseok’s hand and walking away.