#i am currently just observing in sheer disbelief

[yuzukult]

yours, but not yours 05 || csc & reader

title: yours, but not yours 05 pairing: choi seungcheol x fem!reader/oc genre: angst, fluff, eventual smut, fake dating!au, bad influence!seungcheol, nice guy syndrome!namjoon, mechanic!seungcheol wc: 8.0k summary: when a nice guy gets too overbearing, you’re stuck with the option of having a fake boyfriend. warnings: profanity a/n: ello it’s me do you remember me... anyways, hope you all enjoy!!

You never thought you’d find yourself in this position: in between Kim Yubin and Choi Seungcheol. 

He stands there, outside of your bedroom door with his arms by his sides, sleeves still rolled up to his elbows from washing the dishes earlier. If you could see the enmity now, the steam whistling out of his ears would be visible. Heat radiates from his cheeks, fueled with all the things he’s been holding back since he’s learned about the Kim siblings, and he’s ready to combust.  

“You’re fucking joking,” he practically spits.

“S-Seungcheol,” Yubin stutters; the palm of her hand pressing down against the cushion of your loveseat couch as she forces herself to stand straight. She swallows, throat bobbing up and down as her eyes grow wide, alcohol flushing out of her system the moment she sees Seungcheol walk out. There’s resemblance between her and a child cowering in fear at the sight of a strict parent as she holds her hands in front of herself, observing every move he takes. “You’re—You’re here,” she lets out a nervous laugh. “I…I thought nobody else was home.”

She states the obvious, and the evident expression wiped across Seungcheol’s face is enough without interrogating his feelings. Everything stills and grows silent—you could almost hear your neighbors talking to their families next door and the cars driving by on the main road from how quiet it gets.

“You… You know, I thought you looked familiar,” he begins leerily before shutting his lids with a heavy sigh that releases from his chest. Then his eyes—those chocolate colored irises are suddenly dark when they open, filled with vexation and fury when they land on Yubin. You’ve never seen him angry like this before. Disappointed, yeah, but this is a totally different side of him that he unravels. “After all the things I’ve heard about you—from your best friend, too—it makes sense. Fits together like a missing piece of the puzzle. Especially with Namjoon too, everything clicks,” his jaw tenses. “You’re Mrs. Kim’s kid. The bitch who owns the country club.”

“My mother isn’t a bitch,” Yubin says through her gritted teeth. Smoothing out her skirt with the warmth of her hands, she clears her throat and pushes the strand of hair behind her ear as if the messy rat’s nest would be resolved from the mere action. Even when he says harsh words about her own mother, she hides behind that sheer facade because she’s trying to sway him with her mellifluous tone. Was your best friend really that two-faced the entire time? “But I-I am. I see that you finally recognize me after all this time.”

“It’s a little hard to remember you without the flamboyant pink tutu and the pounds of makeup on your face. Your stylist team was just hired for the night, weren’t they?”

Mouth agape, she scoffs in disbelief.

Why does that attire sound familiar?

Then the memory comes back like a storm. It was years ago—you’d find out that Yubin’s parents were elitists. Their wealth was the explanation for her and Namjoon’s capability to afford such exorbitant things; from her red bottom heels to her Hermés Birken bag and Namjoon’s array of Aston Martins, Maybach Exeleros, and Bugattis, when she told you what her parents did for a living, it answered all your open questions. She and her family were part of a society back at home–her explanation glorified, you simply narrowed it down to her lifestyle consisting of a bunch of rich people trying to kiss each other’s asses over some golf clubs and banquets.

Although you couldn’t relate to any of Yubin’s upbringing and her current lifestyle, her personality was enough for you to stay as a friend. She was lonely; no amount of money in the world could pay for friendship that was pure and genuine so you stuck around. Yubin always said that the people who followed her around only remained because of her money, guilt and sympathy sinking in the pits of your stomach, becoming the main reason that you decided that you’d be her best friend. Everyone needs a friend–even your worst enemy.

You’d be a loyal friend to Yubin, despite all the times you desperately needed help financially and she wouldn’t even bat a lash. It wasn’t her money, so to speak, therefore asking Yubin to lend a hand was disrespectful if it meant digging into her parents’ wallets to fund for your necessities. Living in the basement of your uncle’s house, she came to visit you in the late hours of the night while knocking obnoxiously on the back door that led downstairs to your makeshift apartment. No headboard, sharing a bathroom with six other people who resided in that home, never having any privacy since the laundry room was your bedroom, having Yubin seated on the edge of your bed while dressed in head to toe designer was juxtaposing. 

Honestly, at first, you were a bit taken aback from the sight of her.

Usually, she wouldn’t get dolled up like this. Her makeup was smeared, just as it was now, black mascara streaked down her cheeks that was brushed with a blush that didn’t fit her skin tone. The lipstick was a hot pink to match her dress, layers of tulle stacked atop each other that made her seem like she was a contestant for a pageant and left you wondering how something like that could include so many zeros behind the first number. She needed a new stylist – whomever hired her definitely had a personal vendetta against Yubin.

“He’s the one,” you vaguely recalled her hopelessly declaring, eyes sparkling under the shoddy lights in your room. The one bulb in the corner was flickering, and you made a mental note to yourself that you would ask your handyman neighbor if you could bum one off of him instead of noticing how blindly in love Yubin was. “He basically told me that he’d wait for me–that he never met a girl like me before. He made me feel like a princess, like I was worth something. He didn’t even care about the money! His family has enough on their own.”

And quite frankly, if you’d been paying attention, you would’ve remembered this and construed it differently. But your priority wasn’t your friend who claimed to have met her soulmate–the homework assignment due in 13 minutes–no wait, 12 minutes, was your main concern.

“Mmm, wow, that’s crazy,” you responded, and thinking back on it, you should’ve been more engaged and probed for more because now you’re paying for the consequences of your actions. It was terrible on your part because you’d been a bad friend by not listening but also missing all the red flags that she was practically waving in front of your face.

This angle of Seungcheol is peculiar; usually he’d throw a couple sordid jokes here and there then attempt to use pick up lines paired with a wink. He’s normally kind, in spite of the label fuckboy he tends to walk around with, in semblance to the ‘A’ in the Scarlet Letter. Seungcheol would wear this identity with pride, but he never failed to still remain respectful of everyone’s boundaries–even now he doesn’t change that, and that’s without the trademark. 

Yet, as he stands here before Yubin, he’s like an entirely different person. He’s cold–easily mistaken for a draft, but your place was warm with the heat on blast. Your thick layer of clothes, locked windows and space heater in the middle of the apartment didn’t warrant the frosty air but that unopened invitation didn’t matter to his attitude.

Seungcheol narrows his gaze. “Not usually something a guy who’s in love with you would say, would it?”

“Seungcheol,” you call his name out sternly but he doesn’t give you an ounce of attention–a new move on his part, considering he claims to kiss the ground you walk on. “What’s going on?”

“I’m baffled,” he begins, shaking his head. “This whole time, you pretended to not know me, then you come and tell my girlfriend that I’m in love with you. What gives? Did your brother implant that in your head? Because it’s fucking seeming like the Kim siblings just love to lie to get things their way. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?”

“Seungcheol,” you reiterate, hand on his protruding chest to ease him. The touch soothes him just barely, and he takes a step back. “I asked a question—what's going on?”

When he diverts his attention to you, his gaze softens. Shoulders loosening, breathing unlabored, he becomes like putty underneath your fingertips. Even though this thing between you both isn’t clear, one thing you know for sure is that you have an impact on him, whether he likes it or not. “Your friend here,” the way he labels Yubin your friend leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, “… is making shit up. I just wanna make it clear, I’un lead on chicks like her.”

“Chicks like her? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means…” he doesn’t want to flat out say it but he knows you won’t let this go without a straightforward response. It’s the old version of himself, the one he’s been so desperately trying to get you to forget and see that that isn’t who he is anymore. Seungcheol sucks in his cheeks, running his fingers through his hair frustratedly. “We met before you. My lifestyle was different then—which meant I wasn’t gon’ go chase a girl with the intention of wanting anything more than somethin’ temporary.”

The words don’t leave your mouth, but he knows what you’re thinking. “I’m not like that anymore, if that’s what’s going through your head.”

“Fine,” you step aside and look over at Yubin. “Explain yourselves. You don’t get to come into my house, drunk off your shits, and you,” pointing at Seungcheol, you click your tongue, “... you don’t get to leave without explaining her accusations. Start over, and don’t leave any details out.”

Seungcheol raises a brow at Yubin. “Should I be explainin’, or should you?”

She doesn’t respond, instead she opts for crossing her arms over her chest aggravatedly. 

“I should’ve told you sooner,” Seungcheol sighs. There’s a reason why he doesn’t tell you anything about his family, and truthfully, he feels that it’s justified. Some things are enough to lure in people with impure intentions and some are enough to push them away. With you, he’s afraid of both outcomes. “My parents are a lot… more well off then I’ve led you to believe. My father owns a tech company and my mom owns her own fashion company,” and when he says the name of the brand, you can’t even hide when your hand covers your mouth in shock. “... And, I’m pretty sure you know that Yubin’s family associates with those in that tax bracket. So, of course, my mom wants to leave quite an impression on those in that… community,” Seungcheol says through his gritted teeth, the concept bitter in his mouth, “hence the constant tea parties, gatherings, fundraisers and galas. I can’t say that I share the same concerns as my parents, but… that’s my mom. So I attend them for her, despite the fact that I don’t really care about what they say about me–I care about how they view her.”

You roll your lips. “And how do they see her?”

“The woman with two sons who seem to let their dick speak instead of their heads.” 

And… that’s where it hits.

This reputation he created for himself that began early in his youth precedes him. A player, a fuckboy, a guy who can’t seem to hold onto a girl—not because he’s unable to but it’s just what he wanted. Girls weren’t his problem, he was his own problem, and at the time, it didn’t feel like an issue either. He liked how fast paced his lifestyle was. There was no commitment required or expected, unlike everything else at home, but he never… made it clear to you that it’s why he chose that route. The only thing he’s ever explained was that he chose you to be the reason to quit that mentality. 

“The pink tutu,” you roll your lips, tilting your head to the side before glancing over at Yubin. “Was that… was that the night of one of your mom’s fundraisers? Your mom… she mentioned something about how you didn’t have options for a date. Well, I could’ve sworn that’s what she said until you came to my apartment that night, talking about… how there’s this boy…”

Your shoulders drop when you put two and two together. “She meant you. Yubin went on about how there was this boy who basically professed his love to her, but there was something about him that he couldn’t change and swore she’d be able to.”

He scoffs. “And does that sound like me?”

It… doesn’t. 

When you look at the person who you claim is your best friend, the epithet “best” and the identification “friend” doesn’t quite fit her anymore. She’s an adaptation of herself that you can’t get behind; the old Yubin who was shy, timid, and oftentimes needed your support suddenly… vanishes. 

The key word you should’ve listened for was “basically.” He basically professed his love, he basically says that he’d wait for her, and he basically told her that he’s waiting for the right time to come back and be with her. As she was bawling her eyes out from her mother’s harsh words that evening, you realize it was a distraction from the assumptions she made with indirect descriptions that you missed so easily because you trusted her.

The silence is thick in the air. Both Yubin and Seungcheol anxiously wait to hear from you, hoping that you’d pick them to side with but you’re left with confusing thoughts.

“I’ll um… I’ll get you an Uber,” you finally say as you pull your phone out of your pocket, and Yubin’s face contorts to a baffled one. “You need to get home–it’s late, and I don’t think you’re in the right mindset to have this conversation.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” she snaps, but you’re already clicking the fast checkout option on the screen. “I can have this conversation. If everything he said to me was a lie, then what makes you think he won’t lie to you?”

You sigh. “I’m not having this conversation until you go home, drink some water, and get sober.”

And suddenly, that light that normally radiates from behind Yubin’s head fades.

In your eyes, despite all the things she’s done, Yubin has remained your best friend. Even with the issues you’ve had with her and Namjoon–you justified her actions, tried your best to understand what it’s like to be in her shoes, and without saying, you forgave her. It’s like an instinct, muscle memory–something you did unconsciously because how and why would Yubin, your best friend Yubin, the one who had your back for as long as you remember–how can Kim Yubin be the constant toxicity in your life? She was never like this before.

Or… has she always been and you’ve been too blinded by friendship to even realize?

“I appreciated you,” she begins, stepping in closer. The mascara that smears underneath the eyes isn’t the reason her gaze grows dark, it was her own doing. Her true colors are showing now, a gloom cloud casts over her as she finally says everything she’s been holding back until this very moment. “I admired you. I valued our friendship–I told you that I thought Namjoon was more fitting for you, and for good reason, too. I thought that we’d have that like–typical movie friendship where you’d end up with my brother, I’d be your maid of honor, and you’d be walking down the aisle in our parents’ backyard with Namjoon standing at the end of it.”

A look of incredulity appears on your face. “And what happens if I just… never end up with Namjoon? Have you ever thought about that?”

Yubin rolls her eyes. “It’s not that hard to convince you. You have a soft spot for me–I’m your best friend, the only one at that. Those other girls are just people you hang with, not people you trust. Even so, they all have the same opinion as I do–Namjoon is yours. You just need to get out of that head of yours and just listen.”

“Are you even listening to me?” you exasperate. You feel the heat burning through your skin, the tips of your ears warm from the anger boiling within. “I keep fucking telling you that I’m not interested in Namjoon–”

“You will,” she emphasizes. Your phone buzzes in your hand but your eyes don’t pull away from hers. “If you stop denying it, maybe you can stop this whole enemies to lovers mentality and finally let him love you. You’re always talking about self worth, but it feels like you don’t even recognize your own.”

Your phone vibrates again. Sneaking a glance at the screen, the timing of the Uber couldn’t be better. “Your ride is here. Get out.”

“I’m not done–”

“Go home, Yubin,” you state sternly through your gritted teeth. A wave of deja vu hits, almost like you’ve done this exact scenario before but with someone else. “I’ve–I’ve had enough.”

Right. You said the same words to Namjoon.

When she finally concedes and shuts the door behind her, your body releases the tension and you free the held breath from your lungs. Being in your twenties and lost in life was enough – having to figure out where you fit in the world, deciding whether or not someone is right for you, and if you want to spend the rest of your life with them (or… do you even want that for yourself?) was more than you needed on your plate, but dealing with your best friend trying to dictate every choice you make was only adding to the pressure. She’s supposed to make things easier, not harder.

As you lock the handle, you’re left with the next issue to tackle on your list.

Choi Seungcheol.

Where does this… leave the two of you? The situation was between him and Yubin, after all, but why did it feel like the indignation he’s radiating is toward you, too?

“I… I think Imma sleep in the garage,” he announces, walking over to the coat hook to grab his jacket. “I appreciate your offer of lettin’ me crash here–”

“— But what?” you interrupt, perplexed. You didn’t do anything wrong, so why are you paying the consequences of someone who did? “You’re–you’re pushing me away again. Did I do something?”

“I’m just —” he pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts. When he speaks this time around, his voice is gentler and calmed. Folding the jacket over his arm, he lets out a sigh. “Do you know why I fell for you?” 

You blink blankly. It’s the question you ask constantly but Seungcheol never gives a straightforward answer, of course you’re curious and have no idea how. “Why?”

“Because you’re simple,” Seungcheol begins, hands slipping into the front pockets of his sweatpants. “Not in a bad way, but in a good way. Simple as in — you’re not living the type of life that my parents live and want me to. Every action I make is judged — from what I decide to do after high school, what girls I date, and what I just want to do generally. You? The simplicity goes down to the point where you’re craving a corn dog in the middle of the night so you pop a frozen one into the air fryer. Even when I poke fun at how much ketchup you pour, all you do is give me the side eye and continue.”

Rolling your lips, you’re left clueless. Where’s he going with this?

“I wanna love someone I admire,” and somehow, with just a few words, there’s a twinge in your chest. “I admire you. I admire the way you live your life — in spite of some drama—you live it in simplicity. You drive a car that could be replaced, but you choose not to. ‘It works’ is your mentality, not that it’s out of date and you want the newest and prettiest toy at the dealership. You’re just unapologetically you.”

“That doesn’t make me special,” you interject, and Seungcheol lets out a laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“It doesn’t,” he clarifies. It’s a bit offensive, but the reality of things. What makes you so different from all the other girls he’s met–how is it that you stick out the most from the plethora of women he’s encountered? “That’s just a portion of what makes up you. You’re not special because you’re simple – you’re special to me because… you make me feel comfortable. Like I don’t gotta flaunt my money around you, and you could say that about anyone, ‘cause you’re right, you can. But I’un feel that way about them. I feel that ‘bout you.”

“But you… you don’t want to be with me right now. You said so yourself – you need space because you can’t tell if my feelings are real.”

“Because I really can’t,” he admits solemnly, eyes trailing elsewhere as he licks his lips. “This whole thing with Yubin – fine, whatever. I’ll deal with her and Namjoon for you, but that’s ‘cause I like you. I wanted to be with you in the beginning because I thought you’d give me an ounce of a chance and you were just unsure since Namjoon kept putting things into your head. But I know now that it was your decision, and when you ignored my feelings toward you, that was your choice. Not Namjoon’s doing, not Yubin’s. You refuse to accept anything I’ve said, and it makes it hard to believe that you woke up one day and embraced me. You didn’t – you just feel guilty. You thought you lost me for a moment, and now you’re wondering if you’re missing out.”

The silence between the two of you is loud. It lasts for a couple minutes before you finally break it, words shaky and uncertain.

“What does this mean for us?”

As much as you hate to admit it, you sort of miss him. His cologne, the scent of the gel in his hair, the smug look on his face, and his fatuous pick up lines were just a few things to name off the top of your head, but the reality of it all is that you miss him. He used to just be some contemptible guy in your life that wouldn’t fuck off, but now, you’re suddenly wishing that he’d be by your side, chasing for your attention. You never know what you have until it’s gone, right?

You haven’t seen Seungcheol in over a week.

And blaming Yubin for him disappearing from your life in minutes is easy, but the real answer would be that you drove him away. 

The garage door is closed, but you can hear the clanging of his tools from inside and the fluorescent lights beaming through the cracks of the framing gives it away that he’s here. Rent was due yesterday, and instead of calling you up with a tacky line to meet up with him so that he could transfer the money to you online (it was totally unnecessary, but he claims he wanted to see your pretty face), he just… sent you money. Nothing more, nothing less. Seungcheol wants space—he made that very clear. 

At work, your mind works overtime.

The glass walls of your office look out into the workspace shared among your coworkers – the promotion was great in terms of what’s now written on your paycheck, but the position change came with an isolated office and your Outlook inbox incessantly ringing with notifications of new emails. The clacking against the keyboards, clicking of mouses, soft murmurs of those who visit another’s cubicle to stir up a conversation and the gossip that occurs by the water cooler isn’t audible anymore. The peacefulness is hostile – the heavy sounds of traffic, honking, and bystanders on the street below are usually a distraction, but today, Seungcheol causes the commotion in your mind. 

What did this mean for you? For you and Seungcheol? Are you supposed to apologize? Do you… start chasing him?

But that would make you seem soft and like every other girl… right?

You scratch your head.

Guys are always confusing—you’ve yet to find a guy that’s straightforward and honest… that is until you met Seungcheol. He tells you exactly how it is; from his endeavors in his past life up until his feelings for you presently, he doesn’t hide anything from you besides the extent of his parents’ wealth. But he had his reasons for that, right? Were they even justifiable?

Even so, that didn’t matter to you.

But why are you having a hard time reading an uncomplicated yet complicated guy?

Before your thoughts could spiral further, one of your managers knocks on the door with an anxious smile. When you gesture him to come in, he eases his steps toward you slowly.

“Heyyy,” he begins, dragging his greeting. You spot a twitch in his jaw; it tightens and loosens with the occasional gulp. Dokyeom is a great boss — what you thought was impossible, separating management and friendship, he made it work. “Listen, remember that client we had a couple months ago? The software company – the one where –”

“Yeah,” you interrupt with a raised brow. Whenever Dokyeom gets nervous, he tends to add information into the conversation that may be necessary for someone who hadn’t been involved in anything earlier and needs context, but you weren’t one of those people this time. “I remember them. What’s up?”

“This… this may be a lot to ask from you but they’re asking us to attend their banquet this weekend. We helped increase their numbers, and they want us to celebrate with them.”

“I… don’t really want to go,” you confess, and Dokyeom plops into the seat across from your desk. “I haven’t been in the mood to… socialize.”

He puffs his cheeks. “Well, what if I told you that this isn’t something I’m asking from you, but demanding that you do?”

Well, this is different.

“If you’re making me, do I even have room for objection?”

He responds with a ‘no,’ a smile stretching on his face from ear to ear. “But you can at least go with Rowoon from business development. He said he’d be more than happy to accompany you.”

Truthfully, that doesn’t persuade you.

When Dokyeom leaves, not taking ‘no’ for an answer, the thought still doesn’t excite you. Why would you want to go to a banquet to celebrate the success of your project with a coworker while you’re occupied with barely making it to work? The drag marks from the bed to the front door says it all.

And when you’re at the water cooler, attempting to refill the 64oz Hydroflask (which you regret buying now, mostly because you’re stuck standing there for a solid 5 minutes because of the slow flow of the stream), your coworker, Hani, stops by. Despite the amount of people you dislike having small talk, Hani is one of the few you don’t despise. 

“So,” she begins, popping her lips. “I heard you got roped into attending that party for the Choi project.”

You groan, a hand on your waist as you stare at the brutally lethargic current. “Yeah, tell me about it. Dokyeom insists I go — he said he can’t because his wife won’t let him. Something about finding a rich girl there and leaving her. So I’m left with the option of going alone or going with Rowoon.”

Instead of seeing it from your perspective, Hani sees the glass half full. With a raised brow, she taps your shoulder in a joking manner. “You do realize what Rowoon looks like, right?”

In all honesty, you haven’t. With the hybrid workplace being the new thing, you can’t quite say you can identify all the workers in your office, especially when turning on your webcams is optional. “Um… not really. Seen him a couple times on Teams, but I think his camera was broken whenever we were on a call together.”

Hani is quick to pull her phone out of her back pocket; tapping in her passcode at the speed of light, you recall the last time you mentioned a guy you were seeing was found within seconds of her instantaneous instagram searches. “Internet stalking is a skill that can’t always be taught. You need to feel the vibes,” she said last time, and now she showcases the talent once again. Within mere seconds, she pulls up Rowoon’s Instagram account and shoves her phone in your face.

Oh. He is cute.

He’s got the sweet gentleman look to him; the gelled hair, soft smile, and most of the pictures on his feed consisted of him, food, or a pretty skyline behind his equally attractive silhouette. In one of the photos, you swear you almost heard a ding! sound at the sight of his pearly white teeth. Why does he look like a model for someone who works a corporate job?

“You’re going with him,” she states. “He’s hot. He’s sweet. Smart. Available,” Hani practically sings. “You’re single, too. Please don’t pass up on this opportunity because of some boy.”

You blink blankly in shock. “How–What makes you think I’m turning down Rowoon’s company because of a guy?”

“You got them dejected eyes. Those dejected eyes with hints of love in it. Almost like you got your heart broken or something. I’ll find him on Instagram later–first, we need to get you to go to that banquet with Rowoon.” 

Puffing up your cheeks, you pull out the bottle when the water nears the brim. Hani has good intentions but you don’t know if you should be appreciative or find it overbearing. Nonetheless, the one thing Hani doesn’t have in common with your other friends is that she doesn’t probe about Seungcheol–even if she already speculated what could’ve happened. Instead, she offers you another option that’ll keep your mind busy.

Maybe Rowoon would be a good distraction. It doesn’t hurt to have some eye candy, right? After all, where you stand with Seungcheol is a blur — he doesn’t want to see nor talk to you, and you haven’t given him a good reason to (in his terms, of course). But what’s the point then? Why do you have to try so hard to “win” him over when he insists on being the one who does it? It’s not like he believes you and your feelings anyway. How is it that suddenly the tables have turned? Either way, you’ll regret this decision to see Rowoon a lot less than agreeing to be Seungcheol’s fake girlfriend. 

You smooth out the wrinkles of your dress with the warmth of the palm of your hands in front of the full length mirror in your living room. This black slip with an open back is more provocative than you’d like, but after the dresses that had a broken zipper, grass stain (from what?), torn up hemline, and just simply didn’t fit, this was the best option and you weren’t allowed to turn back on the invitation now. 

Puffing up your cheeks, you grab your camel trench coat from your closet. Rowoon should be picking you up any minute now, and honestly, even though this isn’t really a date, he’s got you nervous with your heart racing in its beats.

But not in the same way as Seungcheol —

Wait, pause. Why’d you bring up Seungcheol?

Tonight is supposed to be everything but Seungcheol, and the fact you unconsciously brought him up only makes you seethe. 

Rowoon doesn’t have the aroma remnants from cigarettes; his cologne wafts underneath your nose, a blend of citrus and sandalwood, he’s the definition of a man, someone independent, emotionally intelligent, and overall full of kind and generosity. He opens the door for you when you exit the car, quickly shuffling out of the front seat just to do it. Rowoon doesn’t recklessly ride a motorcycle, no, instead, he drives a reliable car – granted, it’s BMW and the amount of times you heard Seungcheol shit talk that manu–

Wait, why are you thinking about Seungcheol again?

He haunts you, worse than the ghosts and demons do in the horror movies he’s too afraid to watch (but won’t admit it), and the fact that even when Rowoon is trying to hold a conversation with you and you’re still thinking about Seungcheol is unbelievable. If he doesn’t trust you and your feelings, then why are you even bothering to think about him the slightest?

“I heard you played a big role on this project,” he says, voice thick and sweet as honey. With a hand on the steering wheel, he doesn’t fail to glance over at you every now and then so you can see from his actions that you have the entirety of his attention. “It’s what got you that promotion, right? Congrats on that. They’re a huge client.”

You rub the side of your neck sheepishly. “Haha, yeah. I didn’t really expect it–but I guess all those nights staying in my cubicle with empty boxes of Chinese food instead of partying was worth it. Lost a couple dates, yeah, but at least I’m an independent woman in power!” Although it’s true, you meant it in a cheesy, joking manner.

But it feels more embarrassing than funny with your fist and arm up in the air after that corny comment.

Would it be you if you didn’t make yourself look stupid in front of a hot guy?

“Sorry–not even sure why I did that.” You are definitely mentally smacking yourself up the head. This never happened with Seungcheol before, why are you doing this in front of Rowoon! Is it because you actually see him as a potential candidate? Seungcheol was just a guy that hit on you from time-to-time and rented out your garage. Rowoon works in business development at your office with a charming smile that wins you both jobs and your heart.

Oh. Now you hear yourself.

Maybe that’s why Seungcheol doesn’t believe you.

But none of that matters now. He said it already. Choi Seungcheol doesn’t trust your so-called feelings for him and that’s that.

“It’s cute,” Rowoon chuckles, cheekbones prominent with his wide smile. “You always seemed intimidating at work. I’m glad you’re a lot more loose than that.”

You turn to look at him with a raised brow. “Do I… Do I seem intimidating?”

Rowoon tilts his head a bit, rolling his lips for a moment to gather his thoughts. Hesitant, afraid to offend you, he chooses his words carefully before speaking his mind. “A bit. The whole… isolated office, glass walls, and Dokyeom meeting to talk to you in your office despite his position on the hierarchy, you definitely seem important.”

“And important equates to intimidating?”

He admits to you that your demeanor has always been serious; the last exchange that you had with him (and truthfully, you didn’t even remember this), you accidentally bumped into him after heating up your pasta in the microwave without saying a word. To him, it wasn’t rude (it definitely was), but instead, it was “standing your ground.” You can’t help but laugh at his explanation–you’re a dick to him but he still tries to sweeten it up.

Maybe you should give Rowoon a shot. It’s not like he’s going to be your boyfriend just from a little flirting, right? It’ll be just for fun. Just for the night.

The house is humongous. Well, even the fucking word humongous is an understatement. 

Rowoon is equally in awe, stating something along the lines of, “this is a whole mansion,” but this place isn’t just a mansion either–that’s just a portion of the property. The land extends what feels like 3 acres, housing the mansion, a garage big enough to fit at least ten cars, a tennis court, a fountain in the middle of a garden, a guest house (imagine having two homes on one property), and even the living quarters for the staff (just kidding, make that three). The roundabout at the main entrance should’ve given it away (and the valets that grabbed the cars–apparently, they work at the residence full time. Who has valets full time?)

Rumor has it, they have an underground pool, a hot tub, and two home gyms. Two! Normal people don’t even have one.

Truly, you’ll never fully understand how people could even be this wealthy. To add onto that, you can’t even believe you got invited to be here to witness it all. Is this how Yubin lives? You’ve never been to her childhood home before, but just visiting her apartment alone left you in astonishment. Four of your apartment was enough to fit one floor in her penthouse.

“This is… kinda crazy,” you admit, passing your coat to the clerk. “I can’t imagine growing up here.”

“I went to a private school,” Rowoon says, grabbing the number slip from the employee. “There were quite a handful of students that attended and lived in mansions. It’s pretty much what you expect it to be.”

“What? House parties when the parents are away? Got so rowdy that the cops came.”

“It seems like a movie cliche, but it’s more real than you think.”

Maybe public school in a city suburb didn’t prepare you well enough for this.

You feel out of place here. Adjusting the sides of your dress, it makes you a little conscious of the fact that you got yours from a Target collection rather than a store on the Rue Faubourg Saint-Honoré strip that only sells luxury name brands or from a private appointment with a famous designer that requires a letter of recommendation or invitation just to have you written in their calendar for a fitting.

“Just play it chill,” Rowoon says, hand hovering your lower back to guide you inside. He could feel your nervousness, displaying that warming grin of his in hopes it brings some comfort. “I’m sure we don’t have to socialize that much. Just showing face and greeting Mr. Choi should be enough. He’d be happy we made the effort.”

Although you would much prefer ditching and going back home where being underneath a blanket on your couch while streaming a sitcom, advice from someone in the business development department at work would be the option you have to take if it meant developing good relations with the client for potential future clients. Mr. Choi owned one of the biggest software programs globally, which meant if you got on his good side, the possibilities for connections are endless.

You roll your lips. Maybe alcohol will give you a bit more of a confidence boost–you don’t do well in settings like these, especially since you know nobody else other than Rowoon, and even Rowoon himself, you don’t really know that well. 

As a server walks by with a tray of glasses filled with champagne at the perfect timing; snatching one up, Rowoon watches as you down it in one shot.

“Um, impressive. And you don’t have to burp?”

You press your hand against your chest. “Burns a little, but I’m holding it in out of respect.” With a soft chuckle, he shakes his head.

Okay, after the fourth glass of champagne, you’re a bit bold.

The third and fourth ones weren’t planned–initially, you figured that two would be good enough to get you a little buzzed, just enough to hold a conversation with Rowoon but also prepare you with the aftershocks of liquid courage that you desperately need for when you speak to Mr. Choi. It’s different approaching him outside of a conference room, especially in a formal event like this, you’re stepping outside of your comfort zone.

But you’re definitely comfortable after that last glass of champagne. 

Rowoon suddenly looks a lot more attractive underneath the lights.

You might have an ulterior motive tonight.

The event is set in the backyard, the stairs leading into the house being the main stage and the tables are scattered across the lawn with white tablecloths. There are a couple highboy tables for casual discussions over a drink, one you’ve been leaning on for the past half hour with your elbows pressed as close together as you can.

The thought itself didn’t present until about… well, half an hour ago. Rowoon has been nothing but a gentleman all night; laughing at your stupid jokes, never judging when you accidentally overshare (something you need to work on is shutting the fuck up when you’ve got a little alcohol in your system), and even managing to separate you from your work. People don’t usually do that – especially when they work with you.

There’s really no reason for you to not shoot your shot with Rowoon. He practically checks off all the boxes on your list of characteristics you want your future boyfriend to have: handsome, kind, stable job, a family person, and he’s even into woodworking! He sweetly offers to make a new set of chairs for you since you mentioned how you broke it that one night. That night with Seungcheol.

Fuck. Seungcheol.

You feel like this thing between Seungcheol is like that leg that cracked on the chair. The constant creaking each time you sat on it were like the red flags that you probably shouldn’t be with him, that it was time to part ways with both the chair and Seungcheol, and the nail that you managed to drill in to temporarily fix it wasn’t really a solution. Maybe you need a new chair–a new guy, really. That guy could be Rowoon.

But what’s embarrassing is that even though you’re here, at this extravagant place with a sultry dress, makeup and hair done, a strand twirling around your finger as you giggle at another one of Rowoon’s attempt to joke, you’re still fucking thinking about Choi Seungcheol. He doesn’t even check anything off that list of yours; he’s… well, yeah, he’s handsome, and… okay, he’s kind too–but he doesn’t have a stable– well, he gets frequent customers at your garage, you’ve seen a handful of people come by. The only thing you could hold against him was that he was sort of a family man… but… he also is? Very confusing.

You’ve never been with a guy who got punched over you. Or someone who complicates things by asking to be your fake boyfriend, or someone who acted so well at being your boyfriend that you almost believed it when he said he harbors these feelings for you when he evidently cares for the list of women he’s slept with.

Then again, those are claims that were made by Namjoon and Yubin, who clearly couldn’t be trusted.

It would be easier to start fresh with Rowoon, or any guy, really. There wouldn’t be this same hesitance that you have with Seungcheol – but the more you continue to think about it, no one… makes you go out of your comfort zone like Seungcheol does. Since when did you sleep with a guy the first night you meet him? And how do you continuously let him into your house, despite the fact that you absolutely hate company? Even Yubin isn’t allowed over. And when did you… cry like that, grow that concerned, and feel that rush of emotions that feared for the potential loss of a boy who isn’t even yours? 

Either way, your thoughts get interrupted when Mr. Choi takes the “stage,” microphone in hand as he clears his throat to quiet the crowd. He’s got on the typical black tuxedo and white dress shirt underneath (kinda matches the salt and pepper that is his hair) with his wife beside him that really takes the spotlight with her features. She smiles so brightly, a smile that feels familiar, with high cheekbones and long lashes that brushes against them. Her lavender gown is beautiful, but she is the mean beauty. Apparently, the couple had two sons–one that stands beside Mr. Choi, and the other… is late, but he seems to be making his way up the steps to be next to his mother. His silhouette seems familiar, but you pay no mind to it.

That is, until… he turns around.

You think you’re hallucinating–maybe you’ve had too much alcohol for the night and with all the things that went down with Seungcheol, it would be the reason why you think he’s in front of you. He’s been occupying your mind frequently, after all, so it’s a good explanation.

Right?

Right.

But you spoke too soon.

“I want to thank you all for attending our event,” his father begins, glasses glaring from the light. He doesn’t look like Seungcheol – in fact, Mr. Choi looks like his other son, which means Seungcheol took all his mother’s genes. “We’ve been working hard to improve our business, to keep food on our employees’ tables, and expand as a company in order to keep up with the industry. I’d like to thank our executive team…” Mr. Choi starts to name people that you didn’t know, but you clap along with the crowd, “... and our third party team that assisted us with the changes…” and when he mentions the name of your company, he gestures to you and Rowoon in the crowd before stating your name clearly.

And your eyes meet with Seungcheol.

You don’t know what you expect from him – will he be mad, upset, happy? The furrow of his brows only exhibit confusion, but beyond that, you don’t know how he feels.

When Mr. Choi finishes off his speech, you do your best to avoid Seungcheol. Attention all on Rowoon, you listen to him babble on about his recent woodworking project, but at this point, you’re tuning him out and just nodding. How unlucky are you that you of course would see Seungcheol here! At a fucking work event. With a guy you’re trying to hit on. A hot guy, a matter-of-fact, and the amount of times you have to remind yourself that Seungcheol made it clear that he needed space from you is only reassuring that pressing your chest together for Rowoon to get a better view of the girls is what you need to do to move forward.

“... and I found crotch lumber!” he exclaims, and you have no clue what the fuck he’s talking about but with how he flexes his arm in that tight shirt in excitement, you want to do his–

“Hey,” that voice greets, his hot breath against your shoulder. “Can we talk?”

“Sorry, do I know you?”

Seungcheol licks his teeth in annoyance. 

Admittingly, you were so shocked to see him earlier that you barely noticed him in his suit. Why… Why are the sleeves of his blazer so snug? Hair slicked back and even having shaved his five o’clock stache, he’s got his hands in the front pockets of his trousers, sucking in his cheeks in irritation. “Baby, don’t play. What are you doing here?”

Baby. How does he manage to make your heart clench with one word?

“I got invited here,” you turn your body to face him completely. You can only imagine what Rowoon thinks of the two of you, especially with the pet name that Seungcheol throws so casually. “Apparently, I’ve worked for your dad and didn’t even realize it.”

Seungcheol clenches his jaw before gesturing at Rowoon with it. “And who’s he?”

“My date slash co-worker.”

Oh, he didn’t like that answer. “Come. Let’s talk.” Seungcheol places his hand on your arm, but seconds after, Rowoon has a grip on Seungcheol’s wrist. Their eyes lock, and you could feel the burning lasers that Seungcheol shoots–it feels like deja vu. 

“Who are you?”

← last chapter | next chapter →

[lulu-zodiac]

there’s just. there’s just so much to unpack here. I mean:

- jensen emphasising this is the FIRST story he wants to tell about the spn verse (read: the destiel spin off is coming)

- chaos machine's new pride icon

- misha joking the prequel needs a trench-coated angel, which, based on historical data, only means one thing: the prequel absolutely has a trench-coated angel in it (our favourite one with the rainbow wings and squinty eyes, to be specific)

- kripke causing multiple social media platforms to explode by liking said tweet

- jared hearing about the prequel for the first time on twitter at the same time as the rest of us

- misha absolutely not hearing about the prequel for the first time on twitter at the same time as the rest of us

- the entirety of tumblr and twitter trying to fathom why jensen decided to make a show about a character the whole spn fandom have spent fifteen years wanting to punch very hard in the face

- hot topics include: will john's shitty actions be ignored or explored? is the prequel really just a cover for a destiel spinoff?? or just an elaborate and expensive method of ensuring cas finally, in some universe, gets to smite john?

- rowena considered for the prequel but not sam

- it becomes clear danneel and jensen knew EXACTLY what they were doing when they named their production company "chaos machine"

- et tu brute, gutted, bummed

- the increasingly likely possibility that the french mistake and the mockumentary were actually prophetic visions (related: someone check on misha)

- bobo berens and kripke add more fuel to the twittersphere fire

- most of the fandom yelling "fight, fight, fight" at the cast of their favourite show six months after it ending

- a complete, collective tumblr meltdown as fires that have been brewing in opposing corners of the fandom for over a decade implode into either vindication or denial

- unprecedented scenes in fandom history as self-confessed ex-j2 stans quietly let themselves into the cockles trash dumpster

- the realisation that jensen has been plotting this for months (important questions: how long has he known? when they were filming the finale?? at the creation con panel? is this what was going on under all that sexy silence???)

- most of tumblr on tenterhooks simply from watching two middle aged men follow and unfollow each other on twitter

- the fact there are still conventions booked and j2 panels that are absolutely going to happen after all of this

- no one knows if biden is okay

[thatasianstereotype]

Father, This Is Your Future Son-In-Law.

A short little side companion fic to my Adrien x Damian series. 

First: Fuck. I’m Gay. 

Second: Damn, You’re Looking Fine. 

Third: Shit. I Got To Deal With This Bitch (Again).

I’m still working on the fourth and final part of the series (it won’t be as long of a wait as Part 3). But I wanted to write how the Batfam reacted to their youngest suddenly getting a boyfriend while abroad. 

Creative liberties were taken. Also, this is a crack writing. 

The Demon Spawn who has gotten better at not attacking people at first sight but still just tolerates people. And his holier-than-thou attitude is still there with his love for throwing insults around like free candy. 

This is the kid that manages to snag a pure cinnamon roll sunshine as a boyfriend?

This angry grumpy child? 

Needless to say, the Batfam is in disbelief.

.

.

.

“What?” Bruce thought that the Teen Titans mission in Europe was done. “Why do you want to stay in Paris longer? Is something wrong?”

“No Father. I have simply found someone I wish to court. I will be spending time in Paris to see how best to present myself as an exceptional suitor that is all. Give my regards to Grayson that I will be missing Family Night but that I will make it up by introducing him to his future brother-in-law soon.” 

Bruce was too much in shock to answer when Damian hung up. 

“DICK!” 

“I think it’s cute that Dami is getting a boyfriend.” 

“Dick, you oblivious and naive child, you are completely missing the point.” 

Dick rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m pretty sure Damian isn’t actually going to marry someone right now.”

“He said ‘future brother-in-law’ inferring that this courtship he wants to initiate will end in a wedding.” 

“I think you are reading too much into this, B.” 

“And you are not reading enough. Have I taught you nothing at all?

“You taught me paranoia.” 

“I taught you to be prepared for every kind of situation.”

“Pretty sure the possibility of your 17-year-old son getting hitched in Paris can be ruled out.” 

“Where did I go wrong with you?” 

And Dick rolled his eyes once again at Bruce’s dramatic-ness. This. This is where Damian gets it from. 

.

Ever the peace keeper in this dysfunctional trainwreck of a family, Dick managed to stop Bruce from flying to Paris. But much to their frustrations (even Dick’s who wanted to know who captured his baby bro’s heart), Damian did not tell them the name of his potential boyfriend. 

.

All in all, Damian spent about two months and a half in Paris before coming back home to Gotham. And the Batfam could see a difference right away. 

Damian was happy. He smiled (it was a little one but it had Dick squealing in joy) more and he was more tolerate of his brothers and schoolmates. 

“We should’ve shipped him off to Paris earlier if he comes back like this.” 

Tim was still staring at Damian like he was an alien. The demon spawn still insulted him every other day but hasn’t threatened to kill him at all since he came back. No ripping out his intestines to feed to the vultures or throwing him off a building for the rats to feast on. It was nice. Although a little part of him felt slightly unnerving. He doesn’t have any contingency plans involving a Nice!Damian. 

Dick shook his head fondly at his little brother, taking away his coffee full of too much caffeine and replacing it with decaf. He has truly ascended to motherhood. “Well, I think it’s nice that Little D found love.”

“In the city of love. Is no one paying attention to that part?” Jason munched on one of Alfred’s cookies. “Cause I think that’s hilarious. I thought Baby Bat would’ve choked on all the happiness and bright clean air there.”

Dick whacked his arm. “Stop being mean to Dami.”

“But Dickie. It’s how I show affection.” 

.

Adrien Agreste was the son of the supervillain Hawk Moth that have terrorizing Paris for the last 3 years. Batman was not at all pleased to hear that the Parisian heroes called for help and the Justice League turned them away. People have paid for that. Dearly. 

“So his mom’s dead and his dad’s a criminal?” Jason looked over Bruce’s shoulder at the BatComputer. “Kid’ll fit right in with our family. Demon sure knows how to pick them.”

“Hnn.” Bruce grunted. 

“I mean with you dating Selina, a notorious thief and doing the thing with Talia, a very dangerously lethal assassin, it’s no wonder where your son got his taste from.” 

“Jason.” Bruce grunted in a warning tone. 

“I mean when I’m right, I’m right.”

.

“Ok.” Tim started off tonight’s Family Meeting (excluding Damian), the topic being one certain ex-assassin’s love interest. “Looking further into the Agreste kid shows he clearly did not take after his villainous dad. He is one of Paris’ teenage models and have a huge fanbase dedicated to how pure and sweet he is. He is a literal walking ray of sunshine.” 

“How the fuck did that sunshine child tame our literal feral demon brother?” Jason said. Always the VIP asking the important questions here.

Tim actually had an answer for that. He pulled out several charts and data on his laptop and showed it to the others. “Looking further into Adrien, I have found evidence that he is the cat-themed superhero Chat Noir. Being a loveable and touch-starved kitten appealed to the demon brat’s almost non-existent affections.” 

“Timmy, Dami is capable of love.” Dick said in a disappointed voice. 

“I said almost non-existent, didn’t I?” Tim waved the Mom’s disappointment away. “But you guys have got to see this.” 

He pulled up a video of Chat Noir and Ladybug on the big screen. They watched him using his signature move: cataclysm. No one spoke for a few minutes as they processed the sheer destructive powers of the hero.

“You know what.” Jason broke the silence. “I have no more questions. I can kind of see how Agreste is the demon’s type.” 

What baby assassin wouldn’t be turned on by the literal godly destructive powers the baby kitten held in his hands? 

Dick, the only one wanting to keep things semi-PG here, smacked the back of his head. 

.

“Baby brother.” Cass greeted. She is back home from her Hong Kong trip and heard all about the famous Adrien Agreste. She thought it was adorable and that Adrien and Damian made a cute couple. 

“Hello, Cassandra.” 

She peered down at the list he was currently making. She gestured towards it with a confused look. 

“I am compiling a list of tasks that needs to be done before my Chaton and new sister-in-law come to Gotham. Only the best for them after all. 

Her eyes lit up. “New sister?”

“Yes. My mon amour’s sister will be our new one.” He pulled out a picture of her on his phone for Cass to see. “Her name is Marinette and she will be a fine addition to the family.” 

“Baby sister.” Cass said happily. She was always up for new family members. 

“Yes. I imagine you two will get along the best.” 

But she couldn’t help but notice that with all the preparations he is making, even if it is for his boyfriend and new sister, is a bit —how would Steph say it?— overkill. 

Her coal black eyes were sharp as she observed his body language. “You very serious on this. Why?” 

He can never hide anything from his sister. “I wish for them to have a good impression of our family so that their family will not be disincline to reject my proposal for marriage.”

“Marriage?” She was still quite unfamiliar with some words in English. 

“It means that you will be getting another brother too.” 

.

“We will wed.” 

Dick hasn’t even finished his cereal yet. He looked over at Damian’s serious expression. “Did you even ask him yet?” 

“I will present myself as an extraordinary suitor that he will be more inclined to say yes when I ask.” 

“At least you’re treating your man right.”

Damian took offense. “Why wouldn’t I treat my mon amour with anything but the upmost respect and love?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Little D. I’m just glad you’re in a good relationship and from what I can see, Adrien adores you very much.”

Damian smiled. “I adore my Chaton a great deal as well. Would you like to come with me to pick out a ring?

Dick could just hear Bruce’s voice in his head saying he shouldn’t be encouraging this. But come on, this was his baby brother who grew up learning how to hurt people finding a precious loving relationship for himself and he will be damned if he doesn’t support this. 

“Of course. I’ll be honored to help.”

His baby brother brightened before he launched into a rant. 

“I’m having trouble finding the perfect gem to complement his eyes. They are a certain shade of forest green you see. And many jewelry stores do me a great disservice by not having that certain shade or having utterly appalling quality for what my Chaton deserves.” 

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Taglist: 

@iglowinggemma28 @iz-bell-saiah @nach0ava @roselynfey @mochinek0 @wannajointhecrabcult

[dadoroki]

Reminder [3]

Dabi x F!Reader x Hawks

Description: the final chapter to the story ends here. You’re given an ultimatum, having to choose between your painful past and your current present.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

A/N: I can’t believe it’s been about 7-8 months since I wrote part 1. Whoops!

“Not so hard, Keigo.”

You hissed in pain as the man dabbed the cold cloth on your facial injuries. “Not my fault you wanted to play hero and fight all those Nomus yourself.”

If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t have been alive. Iv tubes were hooked onto you and the beeping sound of the monitor aggravated you more than the nagging winged-man himself.

“Yeah well someone had to do it.” The sunset highlighted your face and Keigo couldn’t help but fall distracted. The moment was cut short the minute he heard a loud screech coming out of you. While being distracted, Keigo had accidentally pressed deeply into your wound and in return, you punched his arm. “Ow, sorry sorry.”

“Whatever.” You groaned as you laid back down, facing your back towards him. He was about to question your sudden change in attitude but sensed a weird aura around. Getting up from his seat, he headed towards the door in a hurry. “I’ll come by tomorrow alright? There’s something I gotta deal with.” Without looking back at him, you gave a weak wave.

He quietly shut the door to your room but before he could turn the corner, a voice caught him off guard. “So you and Y/N, huh? Never thought she’d go for someone so low.” How did he know your real name? A low chuckle left Hawks’s lips. He turned around and sent a fake smile followed by a wave. “Oh, I’m sorry. Have we met before? Oh right! I sent dozens of my feathers at you. Hope it didn’t kill ya too much!”

Dabi clenched his teeth, roughly pushing himself off the wall. “I’m gonna burn you to pieces you little chicken shit. You hear me?” Hawks playfully held his hands up. “Woah, calm down buddy! But if you’re serious, why don’t we take it somewhere else?”

~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~

And that’s exactly what happened. The two men faced eachother with two different expressions. One held eyes full of rage and anger while the other was smug and laid-back.

“What’s with the face? Makes you look even more uglier than you already are.”

“Shut the hell up.”

Hawks rubbed his chin, observing the man infront of him while thinking deeply. “I still don’t get it. Why do you hate me so much?”

Dabi only scoffed in response. “Enough talking. When I’m done with you, I’ll be sure to give Y/N your burnt chicken wings as a present.”

Hawks didn’t have time to think as blue flames ignited his way. He flew around the abandoned area, the flames following close and burning everything behind him. Now it was his turn to strike. He flew towards Dabi, a long red feather making it’s way into his hand and he striked. Dabi managed to dodge all his attacks with ease, causing the winged hero to flinch. “Huh, you’re so weak. I don’t understand Y/N.”

Hawks ignored his instigation, attempting to hit him at least once but continuously missing all his shots again. “Look at you, you can’t even hit me. Why would she pick a weak man like you? You couldn’t even protect her.”

Emotions ran deep inside Hawks. More specifically guilt? Insecurity? Deep down, he knew everything Dabi said was nothing but the truth. He couldn’t protect you and for that, his worth for you was a newly engraved insecurity. That sadness turned into matched anger, causing him to hold a tighter grip on his feather and putting all force into the swing.

Dabi let out a maniacal laugh, gripping onto the man’s wrist and throwing him onto the ground. He watched unapologetic as Hawks squirmed beneath him in pain. He reached down to his jacket pocket and took out a shiny object, twisting it between his fingers above the injured hero in a taunting manner. “Keigo Takami.”

Once the name reached his ears, he froze in sheer horror. First your name and now his? He slowly realized the shiny object was the promise ring he gave you. “You.” The unstable man continued with poisonous venom leaking from the single word. “It’s all because of you. Y/N no longer cares about me and that’s all because of you! I’ve always despised you Keigo. Even when we were kids.”

Hawks was at a loss for words. He was in disbelief, unable to comprehend the situation. “I’ve always despised you since the day we met. The day I realized my feelings for Y/N. But of course, you just had to be in my way. You were always in my way.” Dabi psychotically laughed, recalling the memories like it was yesterday. “You know, I used to blame Y/N for not knowing how I felt. But I loved her so much and felt stupid for even thinking about blaming her.”

Dabi laid his hand flat on Hawks’s face, watching the man hiss in pain as the light heat made contact to his skin. “And then I started to blame myself. I was the reason why she didn’t love me back. I wasn’t good enough for her.” The heat began to increase, making the hero groan in pain. If the first one didn’t leave a burn mark, this one definitely did. “But then I realized it wasn’t my fault nor was it her’s. It was yours, Keigo. Did you know I was planning on killing you back then? To pretend it was a double accident? I was gonna kill you but then I thought about Y/N. She’d be alone and depressed out of her mind and so I chose to spare your life. Man, was I stupid for that.”

With that, he removed his hand to reveal a complete burn mark along the hero’s left side. He stood up and dusted himself off, facing his hand towards the half concious man lying helplessly on the ground. “You ruined my life Keigo Takami and now, I’m about to end your’s.”

Before Dabi could finish him off once and for all, a pleading voice called out for him in a distance. “Touya, please! Stop it!” The voice was so pure and angelic that Dabi couldn’t help but retrace back to the old days. Back when he was Touya. He slowly let his hand fall, backing away from Hawks.

Dabi was undoubtedly a powerful man. However, no matter how powerful or strong you are, everyone has their own weakness. And for him, it was you.

You limped over as fast as you could, the pain from days prior still taking in effect. “You need to let this go. This was all in the past.”

“The past can come back to haunt you.”

“The Touya I know wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m not Touya.”

“You are to me. You’ll always be Touya.”

That’s all it took for Dabi to be wrapped around your fingers. Those eyes once filled with hatred and rage were replaced with sadness and despair. In that moment, he fell completely vulnerable to you. “Just choose me damnit, Y/N.”

You rose a brow, confused at his words. “I know we have our differences but my feelings for you never changed. You promised me you’d always choose me so why can’t you just do that goddamnit?”

You realized at that point, you were given two critical choices. These two choices would lead to two very different outcomes.

Firstly, there was Touya. He wasn’t the same person he was back then but nonetheless, you still made a promise to him. Plus, it was hard to see him as Dabi when all you saw was Touya. Deep down, you were aware that some feelings were still there for him though you definitely wouldn’t admit it.

Secondly, there was Keigo. You always saw him as a friend but as time went on, it was like the friendship turned out to be a stepping stone for something new. Honestly speaking, you already imagined what it would be like to have a future with him.

The time to choose was now. You deeply sighed, getting ready to reveal your answer.

~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~

You stood infront of the mirror, taking a full look at yourself. Who would’ve thought the day would come for you to finally get married. A long white dress that made you look like a princess, your hair pinned up, and a sparkling veil travelling from the top of your head all the way down to your dress. The final piece was a necklace which you were having trouble putting on.

“You need help?”

Glancing back, you saw that beautiful faint smile to which you returned. The man made his way behind you and took the necklace from your hands. You watched as he clipped the chains together and smiled, matching his gaze through the mirror. “Thank you, Touya.”

“Anything for you.” He admired you from your reflection, eyes travelling all around to every single detail. He never thought he’d see the day where you were like this. All dressed up for the wedding. An uncomfortable silence filled the room and you couldn’t help but clear your throat. “You should get going soon. You shouldn’t even be here and your family came by the way.”

Touya hummed in response and nodded. He made his way towards the door but stopped and faced you. “It’s not too late, Y/N. Just come with me an-”

“No, Touya.” You said abruptly. “I’m not changing my mind. You know I can’t. It’s the right thing to do anyways.” The right thing to do. He sighed in defeat and quietly left your room. The moment you heard the door shut, you deeply exhaled and rubbed the sides of your forehead in stress. You stared at the promise ring Hawks had given you years ago. Today was the day where he would replace that promise ring with a wedding ring, just like he promised.

“Keigo. I choose Keigo.”

That was a sharp pain in Dabi’s chest like he’d been stabbed right there and then. He was expecting some kind of hope, at least just a little bit, to have you say his name. But you didn’t. There wasn’t even any hesitation when you spoke.

“Why? Why him? Am I not good enough for you?!”

You stared at the ground, unable to look the broken man in the eyes. “It’s just how it is, Touya. I don’t make the rules and I can’t choose any differently. I’m sorry.”

Huh, what a joke he thought. When you’re chained to the institution, you have no choice but to submit yourself. That’s exactly what happened to you and because of that, you were now their little puppet to control. Had that not happen, would you have chosen differently? Would you choose to live your life with him and keep that promise?

Hands deeply shoved in his pockets, Dabi walked away from the building and never turned back.

Tags for my peeps that had to wait���: @trenchcoatdevilsworld @bmthevick @thepplaskingmonthsago

[capricornus-rex]

Someone Left to Save (4)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

A/N: I was actually a bit afraid that this chapter won’t exactly have the oomph that I was going for ;;w;; Let me know what you think of this chapter and sorry for the delay! My compulsive self had the need to make it perfect and emotional the way I imagined it to be.

Also in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 | Previous: Part 3 | Next: Part 5 | Masterlist

4 of ?

The inferno had died down, sated of the metal and flesh that it had devoured upon its blistering wake.

In the rubble, you lay there half-dead, perhaps half-awake. Though in this case, did it even matter which half is which?

Your eyelids slowly opened, particles of dirt that seated along the lining of your eyes made it hard for you to open them. You can’t make of your current location, though the last thing you remember is the heat boiling under your feet while the fire catches up to the elevator while you recovered your strength, the speed of the turbolift cell in a nerve-racking race against the cascading flame, and throwing yourself out of the elevator the very split second the door opened.

“Am I dead…?” your voice was dead quiet that it’s almost as if your subconscious was the one speaking. You asked yourself, still as a stone in where you lie. “Is there something broken?”

The former’s answer was no. Air still entered your lungs.

A few more blinks and the dust had cleared off of your lashes; your field of vision is filled with the monotonous shade of brown, gray, and black mingling together, with specs of glowing red embers floating about the clouds of smoke wafting over you. No heavy debris fell on you, but bodily movement is limited, the only thing you can move is your head. The dust and smoke constantly pricked your eyes that you couldn’t keep them open for long.

You hear footsteps, heavy and slow, you search the person only to find a silhouette closing in on you. When it got close enough, he bent down but you still couldn’t recognize whoever this was.

“C-Cal…?”

The shadow didn’t speak, except a baritone growl rumbled out of him. He stands back up and vanished from your line of sight. The next thing you know, you feel two arms hooking under your shoulders, dragging you out of the debris, bumping into a slab of concrete or metal here and there. He didn’t notice that the bracelet you wore, now scorched to the point that the thread has split and fell to the ground as he towed you.

A few inches of being dragged across the floor later, the hulking figure adjusted himself and lifted you up to his shoulder, carrying you like a sack. It didn’t last long though, the stranger had settled you in a hovering gurney, you felt it sink as it accepted your weight and then rise again to its default level; while you’re still clinging onto the last string of consciousness, a pair of voices—distinguishably female and male, the latter being the one who pulled you out of the rubble. You didn’t know that these were the other Inquisitors who were sent to the scene.

As they conversed, their words faintly trailed in your head to the walls of your skull. You could only hear and listen, but you’re too weak to bob your head slightly to the side to look at them. Their words echoed as you stare into the charred ceiling of the stronghold.

“…Sure she’s alive? The… will have to… about…” the female voice echoed.

“Found her… utility lobby… Can’t find him…” the male replied.

“Alive too… from the fire…”

Their butchered conversation—at least in your own perspective—eventually blocked off as you slowly lose consciousness. The gurney hovers and then pushes forward, following the trail of the female and male Inquisitors—namely the Seventh Sister, a skinny Mirialan—and the Fifth Brother who’s a tall humanoid with gray skin.

They escort you, along with the Second Brother who barely escaped the fire but still managed to maintain a pulse, out of the site and into the transport waiting for them in the far southern side of the stronghold.

The Mirialan examined your comatose-like state. Past through the soot and grime smeared across your cheeks, the streak of dried blood from your forehead to your temples, the reddening of your face due to the extreme heat—she thought it’s actually a miracle that you even survived.

“You sure look though,” the Mirialan female commented.

“Let’s see if the Master is just as impressed as we are,” the Fifth Brother added.

-----

Cal, Larki, and Morzen arrived to the site. Unbeknownst to the boys, the Inquisitors have beat them to it in their endeavor. The fires have lessened in size, not as bad as the initial blast. Some areas of the stronghold were accessible and can be safely traversed. Cal hopped off of his speeder, followed by Larki and Morzen, and the boys hindered the reckless, eager ginger by calling out his name—stopping him in his tracks to give him his own set of protective gear: a breathing mask with a filter tube and a complementary pair of goggles.

“Ready?” Larki confirms the other two as they all donned the gear.

They enter the stronghold through a gaping hole created by the explosion. Prior to going any further, Cal divided the areas per person—taking into consideration your last known location, according to his radar, the path that you took in and apparently out. But since the building has been partially obliterated, the three boys had to think of another way in certain areas.

“Larki, see if you can find your way to the reactor chamber. Morzen, check if there are any other paths created by the blast for survivors to pass through,” Cal instructed. “I’ll head to the annex, or whatever’s left of it.”

The trio split, Cal had masterfully distributed the areas per man; Larki was a tad bit leaner and smaller—give that he’s the youngest among them—so it gives him an advantage to slip through gaps and crawlspaces, on the other hand, Morzen was heavily-built young man. Whether or not it was by coincidence or by pure observation, Cal had tact in dividing the party.

Cal trekked through the remains of the annex, the floor and a good portion of the walls remained intact—although charred and torn open by the impact of the bomb—and the heat from the nearby fires was enough to make him sweat. Fortunately for him, the mask protected his lungs from the dangerously-thick smoke.

“Mind your head, BD-1,” Cal warned.

Cal squeezed his way through the gap between a wall and a fallen metal ceiling beam leaning against it. He ducked and crawled, then landed on fours for a safe landing. He was feeling goof, albeit a little out of place to be so, because he’s hopeful that you’re still alive; rather, he convinced himself that you were, for he could still feel a trace of your presence even though it was gradually getting fainter by the minute.

“Bee-woo…” BD-1 suddenly hopped down from Cal’s shoulder and skittered towards the debris, flashing his light and peeking over small to see if you were in the other side.

There was nothing much Cal could find, so he decided to further investigate in another spot. He navigated the ruins, he followed his instincts to go to the reactor chamber where Larki ought to be; as he ran along the way, his comm rang.

“Cal, do you copy? It’s Larki,”

“I copy, Larki. Did you find anything?”

Cal detected the hesitation in Larki’s voice. He demanded Larki to respond.

“I’m gonna send you my coordinates, meet me there,”

“Where are you right now?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of utility lobby. Just come through, I’ve already radioed Morzen. He’s on his way too,”

Cal had a bad feeling about this. BD-1 received Larki’s coordinates after popping out his little satellite dish, promptly, he flashed the holomap in front of Cal. The young Jedi’s eyes trailed from his current location to a portion of the map colored in yellow, there was a significant, vertical gap between him and his destination—he would have to find a way down.

“Not too far away,” he mumbled under his breath.

Without a moment’s hesitation he sprinted through the corridor, navigating through the ruins to find the quickest way down. At the end of the corridor, the edge of it had been bombed off and torn apart, but Cal looked around to see if he can use anything to his advantage. Hanging on another set of beams over his head is a cable coiled around it, he pulled it out using the Force and rappelled down.

He checked the map again and saw that the distance had shrunk. He struggled to remain optimistic, he could still feel your trace, but it’s becoming nothing more than a wafting swirl of smoke. Cal and Morzen arrived nearly at the same time, but the latter came from the eastern side and circled his way to Larki’s meeting point.

“Look at this place,” Larki gasped in full disbelief of the sheer damage that their bombs have wrought. He gestured at his surroundings with open arms.

The three of them investigated the entire area. Morzen climbed a mountain of rock and metal only to find the chunky remains of the structure. Had there been more bombs planted here, then this structure wouldn’t last for a search party to even go through—that’s what the young man thought. Larki, on the other hand, surveyed the fallen columns that once were the great energy reactors; he dared to step closer to the banister and peek over it, he saw the ground level of the chamber—he couldn’t see anything that would resemble life.

“Looks like we’re not finding anything down there,” Larki commented.

“I sense something, though I can’t explain it,” Cal said to no one in particular.

“You think [Y/N] could still be here?”

“Like I said, Larki, it’s difficult to explain. It’s like… she’s here but she’s not… I know I felt her…”

As Cal continued to ponder and muse about your faint trail that he’s picked up ever since he got here, Morzen continued to search in the rubble; nothing caught his eye—save for a single bracelet lying around. The silvery finish had been dirtied by the grime, the cord had been charred in the middle for it to tear—leaving the torn ends of it as black as coal, contrast to its original beige.

Morzen couldn’t make of the bracelet, but he still considered it a clue.

“Look,” he uttered, catching the two’s attention. He nestled the bracelet gently on the flat of his palm as he approached the two standing by the banister that overlooks the pillars.

Cal almost didn’t want to see what was in Morzen’s hand, because a part of him already knew what it was—he just didn’t make peace with it yet—and when the boy’s hand angled to show the trinket resting on his palm, Cal’s eyes widened.

“Oh Cal… Isn’t that…?” Larki sighed, he felt his heart sink when the only clean spot of the silver pendant shone against the firelight.

He hovered his hand towards the bracelet, Morzen patiently waited for Cal to take it—what neither of these two boys understand is Cal’s Psychometry: if he touches that bracelet of yours, he will never be ready to accept what he will see, hear, and feel.

“Beee…” BD cooed sadly, worried of Cal’s anxiety.

Cal sucked it in, then snatched the bracelet off of Morzen’s hand—a tad bit harshly rather—and the wave of the Force Echo was overwhelming, coming from a tiny trinket such as this.

The blazing inferno roared in his eardrums, he could almost feel the searing heat burning through his sleeves. The sounds of your labored breathing as you struggled to haul yourself out of harm’s way—while being severely injured at that—matched with Cal’s breathing, his body has mimicked the exhaustion taking its toll on your body. His ankles buckled and then failed, he submits to the floor while trapping your bracelet in his fist—this reaction startled Larki and Morzen, they took a step closer but stopped by Cal himself as he continues to absorb the Force Echo—and the last thing he saw was the debris falling over you as the fire caught on. He saw the last few images in your eyes—he felt you lying flat on your back as the rubble shrouded your vision in pure darkness and the bracelet slipping off of your hand.

The singular twanging of the silver pendant against the metal floor was the stimulus that snapped Cal back to reality. The exact same trace of you that he’s been desperately holding on had suddenly disappeared. When he opened his eyes, he saw Larki and Morzen gawking at him, both confused and expecting an answer from the Jedi.

“Cal…?” Morzen softly murmured, sensing the overwhelming stress within his companion.

Cal’s next action further confused the two: he frantically searched the utility lobby, past Larki and Morzen’s shoulders, and took big breaths in a rapid pace that his breathing mask fogged in between sobs. The embers twinkled red against the tears appearing along the rim of his eyes.

“No, she… SHE WAS ALIVE!! I FELT IT!” Cal growled ferociously.

He stared back at the little bracelet resting on his tremoring hand, the tears that had been welling up in his eyes while being stuck in his Psychometry trance eventually wetted the bracelet and his open palm. They continuously fell like rain. He couldn’t believe it. He refused to.

The final thing this structure heard was the roaring “No” of the Jedi ultimately destroyed by his discovery—echoing across its burnt walls, the wind that caught it flew over the fires and disturbed its flares.

[taelme]

Dance major!Sicheng

genre: school!au,  dance major!sicheng (slight angst, fluff, slow burn) 

pairing/s: Sicheng / Reader (ft Xiaojun, Ten and Renjun n some of the 127 boys!) 

word count: 18k+ 

tw: mentions of alcohol use, like tension between Sicheng and his parents...(this is fictional of course pls keep this in mind Sicheng’s relationship with his parents that I portrayed in this is in not real and this is just based off of personal experience pls) 

a/n: only now am I realizing how many of my works include substance use lmao I need to calm down.. anyway this is just something I wanted to do for Sicheng inspired by his ‘lovely’ dance with Ten for ‘Rainbow V’ as well as by the videos of him dancing Chinese traditional dance in general!! believe me,... the amount of videos and compilations I've watched of him doing traditional dance is....a lot more than I'm proud to disclose HAHHA .. also there are some mandarin words mentioned here that I referenced from things sicheng has said before so yes that's all anyway enjoy!!

“We’re gonna have to start closing up soon,” you murmured, leaning down to massage your calf, beginning to feel sore after what felt like a whole day of standing.

It was your faculty’s turn to raise money for underprivileged students in your school to start the second half of the semester, the classes in your department setting up various booths ranging from food and beverage to booths like yours, selling customized handmade bracelets.

“You look tired,” one of your friends told you, earning a wholehearted nod from you.

“Very.”

Laughing, she shook her head at you, handing you the file containing your money collected from your sales, “D’you mind helping us collate this? We’ll go grab the rest of our bags and stuff from the lounge.”

You nodded, getting your phone out and kneeling at the table, dividing the money by quantity and starting to key in your phone calculator, your train of thought getting interrupted when you’d received a text from your friend Xiaojun, finishing your calculations before checking his message.

xiaojun 5:07pm -i can come to ur booth now !-

You huffed, your knees starting to hurt from the rough surface of the floor, typing out your reply to him with your pen still clasped in your hand.

5:09pm -we’re already almost closing ure a little late-

xiaojun 5:09pm -its ok i have friends with money they can donate even if they dont buy anything! where is ur booth-

5:09pm -@ the entrance of the design and performing arts school- xiaojun

Xiaojun 5:09pm - perfect -

“Y/N!” you heard the echo of someone whose voice was so distinctively Xiaojun it gave you goosebumps, looking up from your phone and spotting the boy himself walking alongside two other boys. 

You first noticed they were very well dressed, giving you the vibe that they were from the design and arts department, possessing a different sort of charisma that was made even more obvious when they were walking next to a bouncy smiley Xiaojun.

You gave him a grimace, looking back at the list of ibanking transactions, adding up the total of that with what you’d calculated for physical money, eyebrows raised in surprise at the total, not expecting to have raised so much more than your class had initially expected.

“Y/N, this is Ten and Sicheng,” Xiaojun gestured to the two boys next to him, identifying the shorter of the two with short cropped hair with multiple piercings adorning his ear to be Ten, and the other taller boy with dark brown hair to be Sicheng, who simply gave you a nod in greeting.

“Nice to meet you,” Ten had smiled at you, instantly brightening his demeanour as he gravitated towards the beads and string. “Can I make one?” he was already starting to pick up the roll of thread, measuring it around his wrist.

“You didn’t even wait for her to say yes,” Sicheng pointed out with a sigh despite being busy with his phone, causing Ten to give you a sheepish smile.

You nodded reassuringly, gesturing to the materials, “sure, go ahead, we’re already done for the day, anyway,” you smiled.

Xiaojun had made his way around the table, making a loud displeased sound when he saw that you were kneeling on the floor. “Can’t you at least sit on a chair or something?” he clucked his tongue, making you roll your eyes. Your bickering had unknowingly caught Sicheng’s attention, the boy silently observing the way you and Xiaojun interacted as he typed out a reply to Renjun who was currently asking where on earth he was.

“I would if there was any chairs here,” you scoffed.

Xiaojun was about to retort when his gaze flickered to the numbers you were so busy writing down, “Wow! You guys made this money just selling bracelets?!” You shushed him quickly, not wanting to attract unwanted attention, but at the mention of money, Sicheng visibly perked up, making his way away from Ten to the table you and Xiaojun were at, curious to see the amount.

His eyes widened upon seeing the number, glancing quickly at the rates you sold each bracelet for. 

“Wow,” he drawled, his eyebrows raising in surprise, “have you guys done this before?”

You were startled to find how different his voice sounded from what you’d expected, low and holding a certain thickness to the sound. Watching him pull the sleeves of his sweater to his elbows, he’d picked up the sheet of paper, analysing it before placing it back down on the table with a nod, looking back at you for your reply.

You knew you thought he was pretty when you first saw him, but your breath hitched at the discovery that he was even prettier up close. Sicheng. Even his name was pretty. You thought Xiaojun took care of his appearance, but Sicheng was on a whole other level.

Realising he was still waiting for your reply, you quickly shook your head, watching how his lips curved into a small smirk, nodding with an impressed pout on his lips.

“Well you should, you wouldn’t even need to get part-time jobs if you just promoted these,” he proposed casually. This earned him an obnoxious snicker from Ten, whose neck was still craned as he made his bracelet, struggling with a particularly small one.

“Saying it like that isn’t gonna make them give you any of the profit, you know,” Ten’s teasing tone did nothing to deter Sicheng, who simply shrugged.

Xiaojun chimed in quickly, waving his finger at Sicheng as he laughed with Ten, “This guy’s like that. He’ll propose the idea and make you do everything else,” he told you, making Sicheng scoff, a small smile of embarrassment on his face at his friends’ teasing.

“That’s called doing business. It’s so troublesome to do all of it yourself, might as well get people to help you carry it out,” Sicheng gestured as he spoke, waving his friends off. You scrunched your nose in amusement, shoving Xiaojun aside so you could straighten up, putting the paper with the calculations into the file with the money and setting it aside.

Sicheng tried not to make it too obvious that he kept looking at you, deciding to pretend to be interested in what Ten was doing so you wouldn’t notice his furtive glances. “Who are you making that for?” he nudged Ten.

“Not you.”

A sharp tut of the tongue left Sicheng’s mouth.

“Yeah, I know. I wasn’t—never mind forget I asked,” he laughed, taking his phone out to act busy with it.

You spotted the teacher-in-charge of the event gesturing for you to start packing up. 

“Do you guys need help cleaning up?” Xiaojun gestured at the tables.

You’d started by squatting next to the table, picking up the multitude of beads that had fallen down throughout the day. Sicheng had gone over to help you since Xiaojun had chosen to hurry Ten into making his bracelet so you could pack up. He’d noticed how poorly you were balancing, wanting to tell you you could let him do it but he was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone, getting a phone call from somebody but simply tucking his phone between his ear and shoulder as he continued picking up the beads.

“Y/N,” you heard your friend’s voice, turning around a little too quickly and almost stumbling, anticipating the impact on your bum when you felt a hand on your arm, pulling you steady. Eyes widening, you regained your balance quickly, Sicheng still talking to whoever was on the phone in what you could decipher to be rushed chinese, casually removing his hand from your arm.

“What are you doing?” Renjun’s tone was exasperated, “You said you’d be here 10 minutes ago!”

Sicheng straightened up once your friend had approached you, “I got held back, I’m helping Xiaojun’s friend with something,” he emptied his handful of beads into their respective sections.

“I’m hanging up, I’ll be there in 5 minutes,” he told Renjun, hanging up promptly after.

“Guys, I have to leave, i’m gonna go find Renjun,” he spoke, Ten and Xiaojun both turning around and bidding him goodbye as he left.

You’d gotten up a little too late, your conversation with your classmate having distracted you into not noticing Sicheng leaving.

You’d gone to help your classmates bring back the tables to the storeroom, “So...” your friend drawled, mischief laced in her tone, “Xiaojun’s friends, huh?” she smirked, making you roll your eyes, a flustered scoff escaping your lips.

“What about them?” you raised an eyebrow at her, already skeptical about what she was about to say.

She shot you a look of disbelief, her smile widening, “I saw what happened just now, when the tall cutie saved you before you could fall on your ass,” she shrugged in mock nonchalance.

“He kind of scares me...” you admitted, making her burst into laughter, the obnoxious sound echoing in the empty corridor you were walking through.

“Didn’t seem like that just now when he grabbed you,” she sing-songed.

You shot her a glare, dismissing her accusations with a shake of your head. “Can you stack the tables properly,” you gestured to the haphazard stack of tables placed in an empty area of the room in her haste to get it over with, not being able to help yourself from laughing at her sheer excitement.

“Don’t try to avoid my question!” she waggled a finger at you, urging you out of the room so she could continue her interrogation.

“I’m not avoiding it, there’s literally nothing to say! I barely spoke a sentence to him,” you defended.

“What’s his name?”

“Sicheng,” you replied a little too quickly, making her squeal, “I think,” you added, just to make it seem like you totally weren’t sounding out his name in your head just moments before.

"What?" you snapped, hating how embarrassed her cheeky grin was making you, especially with her shrugging her shoulders suggestively, quirking an eyebrow and smirking at you as you returned to where Xiaojun and Ten were, seeing that your other friends had left already.

“Are you going home after this?” Xiaojun came over to you and asked once he'd noticed you were back. You nodded your head, earning a frown from Ten.

“We’re gonna stay to hang with Sicheng and Renjun, see you on Monday, then?”

Nodding, you waved goodbye to the both of them, endeared when you saw that Ten was already proudly wearing the bracelet he made, “Alright, see you.”

Glad to have made new friends, but strangely curious about Sicheng, feeling like you’d just been left hanging.

===

Thankfully for you, you had friends like Xiaojun. Though times like this you weren’t so sure whether you were so thankful for the boy sitting next to you whining about how late his friend was to meet him.

“Maybe he’s busy or something,” you shrugged, adjusting your legs so you were sitting cross legged, your laptop perched on your lap as you continued doing research for your essay.

“If he’s so busy he shouldn’t have started teaching Ren—oh my god, finally!” your head shot up from your laptop, turning to him with a confused gaze before seeing him frowning at something in front of him, turning your head to spot Xiaojun’s friend from that day at the charity event.

“Oh?” you’d accidentally blurted, catching Sicheng’s attention, making him look at you in surprise, giving you a small close-lipped smile in greeting, shoving his hand into his pocket as his other hand fiddled with his phone.

“Where did you go?” Xiaojun asked, genuine confusion laced in his tone, switching to Mandarin while he was talking to Sicheng. Not because he didn’t want you to understand, of course, but more because he was more comfortable this way. (And plus, you liked to think you had sufficient mandarin knowledge).

“What are you talking about? I told you I was outside helping Renjun this whole time,” Sicheng furrowed his eyebrows, a hint of amusement on his features. You understood the part about him being outside, somehow finding Sicheng’s personality to be rather strong, especially showcased when he was speaking mandarin.

Xiaojun’s mouth closed shut, looking slightly embarrassed, ignoring the knowing look you were giving him at how quick he was to scold Sicheng for being late.

“Oh, okay.” Xiaojun bid you goodbye quickly, Sicheng helping him off the floor and leaving promptly.

You found it strange, how he’d spent so much time in your faculty building when he wasn’t even from this faculty, only realizing why when you’d gone to help your groupmates who were spray painting their crafts outside the lounge, seeing the area usually occupied by students from the dance club practicing now taken over by Sicheng and a petite boy that you recognized to be from your faculty.

You heard the petite boy whine sulkily, looking at Sicheng with an exasperated look on his face, simply receiving a shrug and a smile from Sicheng.

“I never said this was easy to do,” he sighed deeply, looking towards the mirror to observe Renjun, catching a glimpse of you in the background.

You held the collar of your shirt over your nose, regretting not having better protection against the fumes of the spray paint, feeling a little bad for the people around you in case the fumes were too strong that it disrupted them as well.

“This one’s done, I’ll bring it aside,” you told your group members, seeing their nods of acknowledgement before using one hand to drag the long and heavy piece of cardboard to the more airy part of the area.

Sighing, you let go of your shirt, dabbing at your sweat with the back of your hand and looking around to see if anyone had been annoyed by the spray paint fumes, accidentally making eye contact with Sicheng through the large mirrors. Something made you feel prompted to say hello, but you decided against it, looking away quickly and continuing with what you were doing.

You tried not to let yourself get too distracted by seeing his demonstrations of the dance he was teaching to Renjun, trying to focus on finishing your task as fast you could so you could go back into the student lounge where there wouldn’t be a Sicheng to distract you.

Settling for just nodding in greeting to him, exchanging small smiles, you carried on seeing him and bumping into him in your faculty. Each time trying to ignore the way your mind was starting to create scenarios in your head about how you would approach Sicheng and start a conversation in another universe where you were confident enough to approach someone as pretty as him.

Sicheng too had been going through a similar dilemma in his head, debating on whether he would send the wrong message if he were to ask too many questions about you. He wasn’t usually the type to put himself out there or pursue potential love interests, it was just something about seeing you around so often and his unceasing curiosity that was starting to get the better of him.

“Your friend is my age, right?” he asked as casually as he could once when he was teaching Renjun at the mirrored area outside the student lounge, curious after seeing the multitude of things it seemed that you had to do (or maybe, just curious about you in general)

Xiaojun shot him a look of confusion, shaking his head rapidly.

“Oh my god, no, she’s my age,” he laughed, finding it weird that Sicheng would think you were his age, wondering momentarily if you looked that old.

“Oh,” Sicheng said, not realizing Xiaojun wasn’t listening to him anymore, too busy deciding whether you looked like a solid 20 year old or barely 19.

“Why’d you ask?” Xiaojun snapped out of his thoughts, turning to Sicheng with a questioning look on his face.

Sicheng shrugged casually, commenting that Renjun had done well before replying Xiaojun, “Nothing. Just…didn’t know why they looked so busy when I look at how free you are,” he grinned cheekily at the end of his statement, letting out a relieved sigh when Xiaojun had bought his excuse.

It wasn’t like Sicheng wasn’t telling the truth, because you did have a lot of things to do. Making Sicheng just the least of your worries at this point. You’d been so busy trying to churn out assignment after assignment that it was starting to take a toll on you. You hadn’t gotten a proper sleep in what was probably weeks, too busy thinking and planning time for all the things that were yet to be done, the constant worrying ridding you of a guilt-free sleep.

It wasn’t any better that you and your friends had all started spending long hours cooped up in the student lounge doing work; going home later and later as a result. And though many people would probably see that as a normal part of school life, you weren’t one for hustle culture, and you definitely weren’t used to experiencing it to such an extent, the stress from it all making you increasingly sensitive.

You’d been with your friend in the student lounge, with her trying her best to help you think of ideas that you could do for your assignment. (You didn’t think of yourself as the most creative person in the world). Hugging your jacket closer to yourself, you sighed, looking at your computer as you wracked your brains to think of a possible solution.

“I'm sorry, writing really isn't my strong suit, but I’ll try my best," she told you, tilting the computer slightly more in her direction, eyes rapidly scanning through what you had typed so far to see if she could get any inspiration for the other aspects of your assignment you had yet to think of.

You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach when you saw that her mom was calling her, asking—or demanding, it was a very fine line these days—her to come home since it was getting late. From the way she'd ended the call and looked at you, a certain reluctance mixed with sympathy in her expression, you already anticipated what she would say next.

"Y/N—" she started hesitantly.

"It's fine, really, your mom's gonna be pissed if you stay. I'll just..." you glanced at your work, trying to ignore the headache building at your temples, "...figure something out."

“—I’m really sorry,” your friend murmured, picking up her bags and shooting you one last sympathetic expression before leaving.

And now that your friend was gone, that left you sitting on the floor of the student lounge, your back against one of the pillars near the corner of the room. At this point, you'd managed to finalize your ideas, desperately wanting to get this over with, but the more you tried to think the more your ideas just weren't making sense.

Sicheng had just finished teaching Renjun for the day, strolling into the student lounge with his water bottle in hand, spotting Xiaojun sitting at the sofas using his phone.

"Renjun went home already?" Xiaojun asked, earning a nod from Sicheng, who flopped down on the sofa next to Xiaojun, a tired sigh leaving his lips.

"Do you have the stuff I needed help printing?" Sicheng felt a wave of relief upon seeing the clear plastic folder Xiaojun had taken out from his bag, handing it to Sicheng. In the process of leaning over to get his bag from where it was next to Xiaojun, Sicheng had caught a glimpse of someone that reminded him of you with your head resting on your folded arms placed on the table.

"You would not believe what I went through this morning..." Xiaojun began, not realizing he may as well have been talking to the wall due to Sicheng clearly being preoccupied with staring at your direction in concern.

Wondering if it was you, he'd glanced at the time on his watch, confirming the first bit about it possibly being you since he'd noticed you tended to stay in the student lounge later during this period.

"Yeah, and to make it even worse they're making us go to the farm!..." Xiaojun went on.

Sicheng’s suspicions were confirmed even more when he'd recognized the jacket you were wearing, having seen you wear it earlier on in the day when you'd greeted him on your way to the washroom.

She seems really tired, maybe I should tell Xiaojun? she is his friend after all...Sicheng contemplated, coming back from his thoughts to look at Xiaojun blankly.

"What did you say?" he asked Xiaojun, seeing the boy look up from his phone.

"Oh. No, I just said I needed to get going, I’m meeting my parents for dinner outside," he said simply, not seeming to have noticed that Sicheng hadn't caught a single word of his that came prior to that.

Nodding slowly, "Oh," Sicheng dragged his gaze away from you. "Okay, I think I’ll just stay here a little longer, I’m kind of lazy to leave.”

Xiaojun wasn't stupid, he'd caught Sicheng staring at your direction the moment he'd grabbed his bag, figuring he would let things flow and wait for the (much expected) updates he was likely to get from you the next day. Eyeing Sicheng suspiciously, he nodded, "Bye, see you," he waved, slinging his bag over his shoulder and leaving.

Sicheng frowned when he'd looked back at you, a part of him growing slightly hopeful when he saw you finally lift your head from the table top, rubbing at your forehead where there was now a red mark, your other hand coming up to wipe your tears roughly.

Seeing as no one else was there, and something was compelling Sicheng to check on you, he did exactly that. Making his way over to you, he crouched down next to where you sat in a squat, the feeling of a presence next to you making you turn, startled when you'd spotted Sicheng there.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Your hands flew to your face in your hurry to wipe the tears threatening to spill, turning your face away from him quickly, pretending to be busy and picking up your drink that had been neglected for God knows how long to take a sip. Ignoring the way the drink tasted diluted now from all your ice having melted, you turned back to him, holding a thumbs up with a small smile.

"Yeah, fine," you managed to muster out, trying to even out your breathing and calm yourself down.

“Uhhh...” he glanced at your face, searching your expression, noticing how your eyes got teary when you looked back at what was on your laptop screen, “hold on,” he murmured, and you tried not to let yourself get too nervous at his proximity.

Sicheng let his legs fold under him, resting his hands on his thighs as he inspected what was on your computer, receiving a pleasant surprise when he’d realized he’d done this module before.

“Do u need help? I did this module last year,” he told you, making your eyes widen, wondering just what you did in your life to warrant you such kindness from a stranger (or acquaintance, if you were being generous).  

You shot him a hesitant look, feeling embarrassed if you were to ask someone you barely knew to help with your assignment.

“Honestly, I just need to know if my ideas make sense, because I’m really rushing for time right now and every time I look at them again it just feels like I’m talking a whole lot of bullshit so I’m literally stuck because I can’t think of anything else,” you rambled, out of breath when you were done.

Not that Sicheng minded your rambling, since the boy was more focused on reading whatever you had on your computer screen, his eyes squinting as he concentrated.

In your assumption that he was squinting because he couldn’t see the words well, you’d made the words a lot bigger, making him let out a small huff of laughter.

“Thanks,” he whispered, continuing to read.

“Okay,” he turned to you with a small huff, “it’s really not as bad as you’re making it sound,” you frowned at his wording.

“So it’s bad?” your lips parted in dismay.

He giggled softly, shaking his head, “No, it’s not. After reading it, I can see that you’ve sort of got all your points here, you just need to find a way to pitch them, like...sell it, you know?”

You nodded slowly, looking back at what you’d written. Sicheng figured he’d better guide you through it since your expression remained lost as your hands hovered over your keyboard, not quite knowing how to start.

“Okay, how about, you just try to follow this structure while writing and I’ll guide you as you go, how does that sound?”

You nodded, thoughts wandering to how surreal all of this seemed to you. You already had an interest in Sicheng from all your previous encounters in school, and to have him here now offering to help you with your work just seemed a little too good to be true, like what you’d imagined would only happen to you in another universe but you figured since it was already happening you should put it to full use, nodding at him (it was clear your priorities were a little mixed up now that Sicheng was in the picture).

Sicheng gave you a sweet smile, relieved that you hadn’t rejected his offer. Not wanting to get carried away, he’d immediately started giving you prompts for your first idea. Doing as he told you to, you were surprised at how quickly you were able to get your assignment done. This was of course aside from the time you spent being distracted by his proximity while he pointed at your screen once in a while to tell you what you could do while you were ‘stuck’.

Attributing your success to him having done this subject before, you’d finished way earlier than you expected. However, just glancing at the clock you felt the dread creeping up on you as you thought of what other assignments you had left to do, your long-awaited rest just seeming to grow further and further away from you.

Sicheng leaned back in his seat, resting his elbow on his knee as he looked at you, a small smile playing at his lips as he saw the way you let out a relieved sigh as you hurriedly saved your work.

“Satisfied?” he’d asked once you finished saving your work and closing your laptop.

You couldn’t help yourself from nodding vigorously, immensely thankful for his timely appearance.

“I really can’t be assed to think any more about this stupid assignment,” you admitted, making him laugh, shaking his head.

Glancing at his watch, Sicheng looked back at you with an expectant gaze.

“Do you live nearby?”

You sighed, shaking your head as you stretched your arms out, “Takes me about a half hour bus ride? to get back?” you yawned, hands going to cover your mouth quickly.

His eyebrows raised in surprise, “You should probably be getting back, then, it’s pretty late..” He stood up with a grunt, extending a hand for you to take.

Accepting it, and standing up, you let him go grab his things as you slung your bag over your shoulder, glancing at the other people in the student lounge who were starting to leave as well, knowing for a fact that if Sicheng hadn’t offered to help you, you would be still here looking at them leave in envy.

Walking out of the student lounge with Sicheng, you’d realized just how empty the school was at this time of the day, something about the mood of the sky and the breeze you felt walking out adding to your confusing mix of feelings.

“What bus do you take?” Sicheng asked you.

Replying him quickly, you were confused as to why he’d asked when he’d just continued using his phone after that, frowning as the conversation went silent.

“The next one’s coming in 8 minutes,” Sicheng told you casually, shoving his phone into his pocket.

You never knew Xiaojun had such considerate friends.

“What bus are you taking?” you’d asked, seeing him turn to you briefly before looking back ahead.

“The same one, goes to my house as well,” he told you with a shrug, though obviously he didn’t include the part about it being like 20 minutes longer than his usual bus, but he felt like you could use the company, with the way he could practically hear you stressing from beside him.

“You look really stressed—" he cut himself off at the sound of his ringtone, seeing the caller ID had read that it was his sister, “—wait, hold on.”

He held a hand up in a gesture to stop, picking up the call and switching to mandarin to talk to his sister.

“Where are you? what are you out so late for?” she questioned.

“I’m already on my way back, don’t worry. Don’t call me, I’m hanging up.”

Ending the call quickly, you looked at him in fascination, finding the way he spoke enough to put you in a trance.

“Okay, where were we?” he said, his tone a lot more gentle than it was to whoever he was speaking to on his phone. “Right, I was gonna ask you why you looked so stressed,” he tilted his head at you, spotting the bus driving towards the bus stop.

You huffed in half-hearted laughter, gripping the strap of your bag tighter.

“I mean like...you know, with submissions and everything...it’s kind of hard for me to not think about the rest of the stuff I have left to do,” you murmured.

“Do you have a lot left?” he asked, earning a shrug from you.

You narrowed your eyes in thought before shaking your head, “It’s only a few assignments, but the problem is not really the quantity more than the tedious....ness of the assignment,” you hesitated, unsure if you were speaking actual words, but you were glad that Sicheng didn’t seem to mind, nodding patiently as you spoke.

Getting onto the bus, you’d taken a seat between the window and Sicheng, hugging your bag to your chest, Sicheng fiddling with his phone in his hands.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way through it. I mean, if Xiaojun can do it, you definitely can,” you laughed at his consolation, something in Sicheng feeling triumphant at how he’d been successful in making you smile.

“I sure hope so,” you huffed, letting a silence fall between you both.

"Thank you so much for helping me, by the way," you murmured, seeing him shake his head dismissively.

"It's okay, you don't have to thank me," he laughed.

"No, I do! What are you talking about? You didn't have to help me but you did, so you have to know that I'm really really thankful for that, okay? I like....basically owe you," you frowned.

"Look," he turned to you with a soft smile, "you can worry about repaying me another time, yeah? For now, just focus on getting a good rest at home and getting the rest of your work done."

You hummed, shooting him a reluctant look but nodding anyway, looking out the window at the passing buildings, less clearly visible due to the time of day.

“Which stop are you stopping at?” he asked you after a moment, telling him the location, murmuring that you were about to get off the bus soon, “That’s fast,” he murmured, starting to regret and wonder if he should've used the chance to make more conversation with you during the bus ride.

“How many stops do you have left?” you asked him, seeing him shrug, knowing he had at least nine more.

“About five-ish?” he shrugged, not wanting you to feel bad for him when you were already so stressed from school.

You nodded, “Alright," you frowned at the bus nearing your stop, a part of you wanting to talk more with Sicheng especially since this whole situation made you kind of forget that you had work to do for a moment.

Turning to get out of your seat, he'd given you a shy smile as you tapped out, stopping at the bus stop to wave at him through the window, making him smile at you, waving back but not without mouthing a "dont stress!" to you, holding his fist up in a gesture to cheer you on.

Nodding, you left before your smile could grow any shyer.

===

"Y/N," you heard someone call you while you were in the queue to buy coffee, turning a full circle before realizing Sicheng was standing behind you in the queue, dressed in a plain black shirt, tucked into black jeans, hands fiddling with his phone and wallet in hand.

"Oh, hi!" you said, shock evident in your tone, you noticed the petite boy who you figured was Renjun, standing next to Sicheng, eyeing him suspiciously, before turning to you and giving you a small smile in greeting.

His hair was more messy today, but not the i-just-woke-up kind of messy, but more of the I've-just-been-dancing-and-pushed-my-hair-back kind of messy.

In short, you thought he looked hot.

Brushing the thought away, you thought on your feet, hoping you could find some way to repay him for what he did.

“Believe it or not, I still feel bad about how you stayed behind to help me the other day, can I like...buy you a drink or something? for the sake of my conscience?" you laughed, seeing him tilt his head at you in amusement.

He hummed in thought, "I guess you can make it up to me by getting something to eat with me after your assignments are all over," he shrugged casually.

Renjun looking at him, clearly scandalized, his mouth falling open as if Sicheng had just transformed into another person.

You nodded, collecting your drink, turning back to him with a grin, "I'll take you up on that, see you.”

You tried your best to remain calm, before practically running back into the student lounge and almost tackling your friend with how excited you were.

"What does it mean if a guy you barely know stays back to help you with your work and accompanies you home and then asks you out for a meal after hell week is over?!" your words came out a mile a minute, almost spilling your drink with how she had writhed when you touched her calf, forgetting momentarily how ticklish she was.

"Is it the tall chinese-speaking cutie?!" she asked, earning a vigorous nod from you.

"Yeah! I saw him when I was getting coffee just now, and i was saying like hey, you know, why don't i buy you a drink cause like you know, I felt like I owed him for being so nice to me," you started, your friend nodding along as she listened intently to your story.

You took a sip of your drink halfway, constantly glancing around to check if anyone was within earshot, suddenly embarrassed about telling her what happened.

"Okay, so then, he suddenly says like..." you dropped the tone of your voice to a much lower one in a poor imitation of his voice, "'i guess you can make it up to me by getting something to eat with me after hell week,' and I'm like," you raised your eyebrows, eyes widening and a strangled sound of excitement escaping your lips, not being able to find a word to describe what you were feeling.

"Oh my god....so what did you say?" she asked, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

"I said yes, duh!" you scoffed, groaning at how she'd hit you repeatedly on the thigh after that.

"Do you think I should have, though? I mean, he's like Xiaojun's friend and all, but like still....I don't really understand why he would go out of his way to do that for me?" you frowned, taking a long sip of your coffee.

"I mean, yeah, why not? You could be missing out on a pretty good opportunity here if you say 'no'," she told you matter-of-factly.

You frowned, picking up your laptop and placing it onto one of the stools near you, scrolling to find your work.

"I know, but it's just weird, I mean. No one's ever approached me like that, especially when I don't even know them that well," you made a face of uncertainty to her.

"Maybe you should like interrogate Xiaojun or something, see what kind of person Sicheng is," she shrugged.

You had to say, there were pros and cons to that plan, but you figured it would probably be a good move to do that.

Little did you know Xiaojun was conducting his own interrogation outside the lounge.

"You should've seen him, he was actually initiating an outing with this girl!" Renjun scoffed, looking at Xiaojun in exasperation.

Sicheng rolled his eyes, focusing on stretching before him and Ten started practicing.

"Yeah why don’t you just announce it over the PA system while you’re at it," Sicheng commented, bending down sit on the floor, stretching his leg out and reaching for his foot, grasping it easily.

Ten shot Sicheng a look, "what's your plan?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes at Sicheng.

"I don't know," Sicheng shrugged, Xiaojun didn't seem to be buying any of it.

"Do you like her?" Xiaojun asked, finding it amusing to see how much Sicheng was trying to divert the topic.

"Ten, are you done stretching?" he avoided Xiaojun's question, giving a pointed look to Ten who simply smirked at his friend.

"I'll be done when you answer Xiaojun's question," he shrugged.

Sighing, Sicheng stood up, directing an annoyed look at his friends.

"I wanna get to know her first, okay?"

Ten made a face, trying to stifle his laughter. Renjun simply sighed loudly, "he's gone, just you wait, he's gonna fall in love by next week.” Ten stared wistfully into the distance, causing Xiaojun to erupt in a fit of giggles.

"You know it's true," Xiaojun gave Sicheng a knowing look, simply receiving a shake of the head in response.

"Whatever," he nudged Ten with his shoe, "let's just start."

===

Soon enough (and very fortunately) you were done with your assignments, and though Sicheng still had one major assignment left, the moment Xiaojun had given his contact to you, you had taken the liberty of texting him to let him know you were done with your assignments.

sicheng 7:53pm -congrats, r u taking me up on my offer now, then?-

He had happened to reply you when you were talking to Xiaojun over the phone.

"What do I say?"

Xiaojun groaned, "Why are you asking me?"

"Because you're his friend! You're supposed to tell me how to approach this!" you frowned, though you knew he couldn't see you.

Xiaojun scoffed, "Sicheng is the least romantic person I know, don't get your hopes up.”

You frowned.

“Then do you think i'm getting ahead of myself with this?" Xiaojun could sense the excitement leaving your tone, making him regret saying that, not intending to have upset you, but at the same time not knowing what to tell you since Sicheng wasn't one to show his affection very freely.

"No, i mean like, Sicheng's just kind of weird in how he expresses how he feels," Xiaojun explained.

"So do you think he's just being friendly by asking me out?"

"I don't know, that really depends on how he acts around you from here on, but i've never seen what he's like when he likes someone so I really wouldn't know. But trust me, he's.....interested," he chuckled, making you gasp.

"Don't lie, are you sure?"

"I mean, forget it. It's not my place to say, i'm not him so I really wouldn't know, he's kind of hard to read if you haven't noticed." The thought lingered with you as you typed out a reply to Sicheng.

8:12pm -only if u want ofc-

sicheng 8:15pm - r u free this week? -

You typed out your reply quickly. 

8:15pm -i'm free for dinner on wednesday- 8:15pm -i end classes at like 5 that day-

sicheng 8:16pm -sure thing, but i have dance practice until like 6? u ok w meeting at 7?-

You refrained from squealing out of excitement. 

8:17pm -sure, see u then! :)-

sicheng 8:17pm - :) -

That was what ended you up in a popular hotpot restaurant at 7, reaching earlier than Sicheng who had texted you saying that he was on the way.

You definitely weren't expecting that he would walk in with the staff greeting him as if he owned the restaurant. Dressed in a casual grey hoodie and dark checkered patterned sweatpants, smoothing his hair down and adjusting his cap as he slid into the booth you were sat at.

"Sorry I'm late, did you have to wait long?" you shook your head. He wouldn't tell you, of course, that the reason he was late being that Ten was busy briefing him on how and how not to act while on a date.

"These soups are really nice, the rest are kind of weird," he admitted, gesturing to a few on the menu.

"Is there anything you don't eat?" he asked, already writing down on the menu, making orders of a considerable amount of dishes.

"Nope, go ahead," you smiled, looking at the menu and making your requests, seeing how he'd called the waiter over and ordered quickly, as if he'd done this a thousand times.

"You seem to be pretty familiar with the place, are you like a regular here?" you asked, seeing him rest his elbows on the table, covering his mouth with his hands as he smiled shyly.

Nodding with a small shrug, Sicheng glanced around at the interior of the restaurant.

"Used to come here a lot back when it wasn't so expensive, now it's kind of like a once in a while kind of thing, but the food here is great," he told you with conviction, his phone lighting up with notifications but he'd simply pushed it aside on the table.

"What did you do today?" he asked.

"Nothing interesting, if that's what you're wondering," you laughed, "just lessons, we haven't gotten any of our assignments back yet, Imean, not that I want to but-yeah." You stopped yourself, realizing you were rambling and trying your best to ignore the way Sicheng was looking at you, his blank expression making you feel like you were boring him.

Little did you know Sicheng was busy distracted by the way your lips moved when you talked, accompanied with the sweet tone of your voice making him almost forget he was part of the conversation.

"That's pretty much it, what about you?" you pressed your lips together, seeing him look up, trying to remember where you stopped.

"Right, okay. I just had a meeting with Ten to practice for our showcase, which is basically our last assignment but it's not due for another few weeks."

Your eyes widened, nodding at him, "That's pretty cool, do you guys get to choose what you dance to?"

Nodding, he moved back in his seat as a waiter came to deliver your food, giving her a nod in thanks.

"To put it simply we get to choose the song ourselves and choreograph a routine, design the set blah blah blah the whole production has to be designed by us basically, on top of the write up and the oral presentation," he told you after the waiter had left.

"That sounds tough," you murmured, reaching for the plate of meat but Sicheng had gotten to it before you could, "It's okay, don't worry. I'll do the work," he told you, the tip of his tongue peeking out from his lips in his concentration as he placed the different items you ordered into the soup.

"I guess it is tough but you know, it's worth it when you get on stage and feel everything come together and just....you know, dance," he shrugged, glaring at the meat as if it would make it cook quicker.

"So—" you were startled when you saw one of the staff of the place, seeming to be one of the managers, approach Sicheng with a loud squeal, draping her hand over his shoulder as he beamed at her, greeting her before she'd started speaking to him in mandarin.

"Si si! It's been so long since I've seen you! How are you?"

He nodded politely, "I've been good, just busy with school. You guys look like business has been pretty good here?”

She nodded at him with a proud smile.

"Of course! you were right, word of mouth does wonders," she told him, nudging him and looking at you with a smirk. "Are you not gonna introduce us to each other?"

Sicheng smiled shyly getting your attention in english, introducing you to her, seeing her smile after you greeted her.

"Are you sure she's just your friend?"

Sicheng scoffed, "Don't talk nonsense," he laughed, making her let out a sound of disbelief.  

You'd managed to pick up on what they were saying, understanding this part since you heard Xiaojun say it pretty often.

"Whatever you say, Si si. Okay, okay. I won't interrupt you two any longer," she drawled, smirking.

Sicheng shooed her away promptly, and you swore his cheeks started tinting pink as he turned back to you and apologized.

"Well she seems nice," you smiled, starting to eat after Sicheng had deemed the meat to be cooked enough.

“How is it?” he asked, eyes widening and an eager smile on his face as he gripped his chopsticks in anticipation.

Upon tasting the meat, your eyebrows lifted, Sicheng mirroring your wide-eyed expression as his smile grew bigger.

“Wow, it’s really good,” you hummed.

Sicheng clasped his hands together triumphantly, nodding his head at you with an overconfident smirk, “Of course it’s good! Since I was the one that recommended this place,” he held his arms up in a shrug.

You rolled your eyes, giggling at his demeanour as he put more food into the pot.

"Did you understand what she was saying?" he asked you.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, seeing him gesture with his thumb over his shoulder and you realized he was referring to the staff. You raised a hand, tilting it in a 'somewhat' gesture.

"Roughly, I used to learn mandarin when i was younger but it's been pretty long since then and I lost most of my knowledge, I only understand bits and pieces that i've heard from Xiaojun before," you laughed, the way he looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eye making you feel a certain type of way.

"So you don't understand what I'm saying now?" he asked you in mandarin, making you narrow your eyes at him.

"I feel like you're asking me if I understand what you're saying...." you guessed, eyebrow raising in the hope that you were correct. Your heart practically jumping at the way his lips curved into a smile, nodding.

He'd set his chopsticks down, holding his head up with his hand, elbow resting on the table as he looked at you curiously.

"What if i said you were a rice bucket (饭桶)?" you didn't catch what he said, the way he pronounced words being rather rushed, tending to mesh and mumble his words together, unlike Xiaojun who tended to enunciate his words strongly.

You frowned at him, chewing your food as you thought, piecing together the words you'd managed to catch, "I eat rice?" you asked.

You weren't expecting the burst of laughter Sicheng had erupted in, his deep laugh sounding throughout the booth you were in, making your eyes widen and look over to see if anyone was looking, thankfully seeing none.

"What's so funny about that?" you asked, genuinely concerned, meanwhile Sicheng seemed to find it the funniest thing ever that you didn't understand him, shaking his head at you.

"Nothing, you're correct," he said, calming down and sipping his drink, his cheeks red from how hard he'd laughed, scrunching his eyes shut in a failed attempt to stop laughing.

You'd let a silence fall between you two as you ate, Sicheng was almost done with his food, forgetting what Ten had told him about his bad habit of eating quickly so no one could take his food.

Glancing at the pot of soup, he'd picked up pieces of meat with his chopsticks, placing it into your bowl, something that he'd never done before other than for his parents, his behaviour shocking even himself.

Nodding gratefully but hoping you could hide how flustered you were, you broke the silence, asking, "anyway, are other people allowed to go for the showcase?" you asked, seeing his eyebrows raise.

"Uh-huh.”

You felt your anxiousness increase, having expected him to ask if you'd wanted to go, now making you wonder if it'd be weird if you asked if you could go watch.

"Can I uh...watch?" you asked, diverting your gaze to your food immediately after you asked, missing the way he scrunched his nose up with a smile, pressing his lips together to contain it before replying to you.

"No," he joked, making your head shoot up.

Sicheng giggling at your reaction, "I'm kidding, of course you can. I'll let you know the details closer to the date." he told you.

"You're not from my faculty, right? I was wondering cause you're in our building so much you could actually pass off as a student there," you laughed, seeing him give you a sheepish look.

"Well, I mean, i'm from the dance department but I've spent a lot of time in your faculty building recently ‘cause one of my juniors Renjun asked me for help for one of his routines and it was a good meeting space for us, since it had that area with the mirrors and all," he gestured with his hand as he spoke, picking his chopsticks back up and shoveling the noodles into his mouth.

You made a 'o' shape with your mouth in understanding.

"Which year are you in?" you asked him.

"I'm in my last year, actually. the showcase is kind of part of our graduating project," your eyes widened, realizing this made him your senior.

"Oh," you murmured. Seeing your phone light up in your lap with a text from Xiaojun.

xiaojun 7:40pm - hows ur date going -

You saw Sicheng move as if getting ready to stand, "Where are you going?"

"Bathroom, be back soon," he murmured. You simply nodded, too preoccupied with replying Xiaojun to pay attention to anything else.

7:40pm - pretty good, kinda weird. he told me in chinese that i ate rice for some reason -

xiaojun 7:41pm - r u sure he didnt just call u a fan tong -

You frowned. 

7:41pm - he did....but isn't that what it means???-

xiaojun 7:42pm - no omg can u just... google what it means -

You did as he had instructed, understanding why Sicheng was laughing so much when you'd seen what it meant, and just as you'd found out, he'd come back to the table, hands resting in the front pocket of his hoodie.

"Ready to go?" you nodded.

"Also, you're a rice bucket!" you told him, seeing him laugh, realizing you'd found out what it meant. But you were momentarily distracted when he'd walked right past the cashier.

"Hey hey, wait aren't we gonna pay?" you grabbed his arm, seeing him shake his head and continue walking, dragging you out with him.

"I paid already," he nodded goodbye at the cashier, leaving you to fumble for words as he waved the receipt at you as proof.

"What the heck, when?"

Sicheng shrugged, "when you were busy finding out what a rice bucket meant."

"Well, then how much do I owe you?" you asked, trying to get the receipt from him, seeing him shove his hands back into his front pocket.

Sicheng pointed at a nearby convenience store, "wanna get ice cream?"

"Sicheng," you frowned, reaching over in an attempt to pull his hands out of his pocket to get the receipt, seeing him pull out the receipt quickly, tearing it into pieces and throwing it into the next trashcan you walked past.

"What did you do that for?!" you whined, letting him lead you across the street to the same line as the convenience store he was pointing at earlier.

He turned to you with a blank expression.

"Look, I said you could repay me by coming to eat with me, not paying for my meal," he gave you a calm shrug, "plus, i chose the place, wouldn't be nice to make you pay ‘cause its so expensive."

"And it's fair for you to pay?" he gave you a tired look.

"This isn't about being fair, Y/N. It's about me paying because i wanted to, alright?" you scrunched up your nose in distaste, but chose to accept your fate anyway since he was so insistent about it.

"I take it back, you're not a rice bucket," you huffed.

He'd led you into the convenience store, grinning at the wide variety of ice cream, Sicheng choosing his quickly, glancing at the aisle of candy and sweets.

"Do you want any of that?" you asked, watching him drag his gaze away from the colourful array of snacks to look at you with an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Are you offering to get it for me?" you shrugged, pulling the ice cream bar you wanted out of the cooler and shutting it tightly.

"I want to," you said, emphasizing your tone to make it similar to his when he'd explained the whole paying situation to you.

Sicheng grinned, moving to the aisle and picking out a packet of cookies, handing it to you together with his ice cream with a childlike smile on his face.

After paying, you'd walked out of the convenience store, Sicheng ripping open the packet of his ice cream quickly, taking a bite out of it and waving his arms happily.

Dear God, please help me not make it too obvious that I think Sicheng’s absolutely adorable.

"Is it far from here to your house?" Sicheng asked, and only then did you look at your surroundings, realizing you may be closer to your house than he thinks.

"There's actually a way to walk from here to my house," you said, seeing him nod.

"Alright, let's go."

"Huh?" your eyes widened, biting your ice-cream in your shock and shivering as a result.

"I'll walk you home." He said, gesturing for you to lead the way and so you did, wondering what about you was warranting such niceness from him.

You let him follow you anyway, shoving your hands into your pockets as you walked so you wouldn’t awkwardly brush hands with his.

Figuring you might as well take advantage of the time you had, you let your curiosity fuel your conversation.

"So, what are your plans after you graduate?"

Sicheng grimaced, not expecting you to have asked him that. At the thought of university, Sicheng couldn’t help but think of his dad, the overload of emotions and information that he desperately wanted to tell you making him eventually shrug at the question, not wanting to overwhelm you with the sheer weight of his emotions.

"I actually wanna go to this acting academy, but of course that's all dependent on how well I do,” he huffed.

You pursed your lips at the implication of his words, "Is it hard to get in?"

He nodded vigorously.

"They only accept a handful of students each year...but it'd be a dream if I actually got in," his voice dropped to a murmur, finishing his ice cream and tossing the packaging into a trash bin you walked past.

"Who knows, maybe you will," you shrugged confidently, not knowing just how much comfort the statement gave him.

Sicheng looked at you blankly, a certain warmth spreading in his chest. You turned to look at him, watching as a small smile gracing his features.

"Maybe I will," he murmured.

“Have you spoken to your parents about it? I know it took Xiaojun ages to convince his parents to let him do his course,” you mentioned, noticing the way Sicheng seemed to have tensed at that.

Sicheng pressed his lips together firmly before letting them part slightly, looking as though he wanted to say something.

Eventually, he nodded, “they know I want to pursue acting and dance.”

You raised your eyebrows slightly, craning your neck slightly to get a better look at his expression, “you can tell me if you don’t want to talk about it, but.. something tells me they’re not happy with it.”

Sicheng let out a deep breath through his nose, nodding at you.

“Yeah, they’re not. They never really…were keen on me pursuing arts. I mean like my mom sort of gave up trying to change my mind but my dad is um…” he paused, a huff of bitter laughter leaving his lips, “how do I say this in a nice way..”

Sicheng shook his head, “He’s just very… traditional.”

Sicheng expected to hear what he usually heard at this point, that his parents only mean well and that they’re just worried for him, but your response was something he hadn’t seen coming.

“So how does that make you feel?” You asked. And sure, it was a simple question but for some reason, it was making Sicheng feel as though he was being wrapped in a blanket and soothed like a child.

Sicheng couldn’t help but huff as he shook his head, “I mean, at the end of the day they’re my parents and I know that, but it still makes me feel.. hurt, I guess. That they don’t want to support me to do what makes me happy and what I’m actually passionate about, you know?”

You nodded, “I get where you’re coming from, and I know I’m not in any position to help you make any changes but…I hope you don’t let that stop you.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

You shrugged, unsure where your wisdom had stemmed from, but you figured it was from all those sleepovers with Xiaojun where you two could rant for hours.

“It’s easy to let yourself sacrifice things for people you care about, but I hope you never sacrifice your happiness.”

Sicheng looked away, trying to suppress the smile from his face as he nodded, glancing at you quickly before looking away, knowing it would do him no help in trying to conceal his smile.

You'd talked more about whatever you could think of, growing to enjoy Sicheng's company the more you spoke with him, not noticing how fast time passed until you were rounding the corner to the street you lived.

"I had a nice time with you tonight," you said, Sicheng able to sense that you were slowing down, having reached your driveway.

"Me too," he smiled, "thank you, for....your time." Sicheng internally cursed, thankful Ten wasn’t here to hear whatever bullshit he just said.

Your lower lip jut out slightly in a pout.

“Well, I mean, it doesn't have to be the last time we go out....you know, we can still hang," you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, seeing him nod, diverting his gaze elsewhere and fidgeting with his cap.

"Absolutely, you know, I'm basically free other than practices with Ten, just uh....let me know if you're ever like....bored and you wanna hang out or something," he mumbled, looking up from the floor to tilt his head at you with a smile, your heart nearly exploding with how cute the gesture was to you.

"Goodnight." You waved, seeing him nod at you, waving as you entered your house.

===

You were currently sitting in the library trying to do some readings for class.

Sicheng had just finished his practice for the day and was going to find you in the library, wearing a yellow hoodie and jeans, his hair (courtesy of Ten) was curlier today, since they'd gotten carried away with thinking of possible ways to style themselves for the performance.  But you thought it wasn't such a bad thing. Because after it was messed up from the movements of the dance you had to say he was hard to look away from.

Spotting you at your desk in the library, he'd felt almost endeared looking at how concentrated you were, a part of him feeling overwhelmed with the urge to pinch your cheeks with how serious you looked. This left Sicheng with no other option than to resort to his only method of coping with it: teasing you.

"What are you doing?" he asked you in mandarin once he had reached your table, flopping onto the seat next to you, making you furrow your eyebrows at your computer screen.

"Readings for class," you murmured, using your pen to follow where you were.

“Okay, let me see your pretty face," he teased, making you huff, not understanding what he was saying.

"What does 'pretty face' mean?" you asked him distractedly, scribbling something on your notes.

"Your face," he said smoothly, so smooth you didn't even realize it wasn't what the word meant.

"That's how you say it in chinese?" he nodded.

"Learn something new everyday," you commented, turning back to face Sicheng only to see he'd already whipped out his phone and pressed on his game app, leaning his head on his arm that was resting on the back of the chair, looking at you with a lazy smile as it loaded.

"Aren't you tired from practice? and why is your hair curly?"

He nodded, pouting at you, "I'm tired, but never too tired to win," he said with an exaggerated amount of confidence, making you scoff.

“But do you like it?" he asked, taking a lock of his hair between his fingers, pulling on it before messing it up a little, you had to remind yourself not to stare.

"It's.....nice," you shrugged, turning back to your computer as Sicheng simply smiled, logging into his game.

By the time you were done with one reading, Sicheng had finished his game as well, the both of you getting ready to leave when you saw a girl that looked younger than you approach your table. You were sure you haven’t seen her before, looking at her in very prominent confusion before you realized she was looking for Sicheng.

The first thing that stood out to you was that she'd called him her older brother (哥哥), a term you knew held certain meaning to some guys as you'd learnt from Xiaojun, but not like you were in any position to be jealous or anything.

"I was hoping I'd run into you, do you know where I can find this teacher?" you heard her say, your gaze hardening from the way Sicheng smiled at her, nodding and giving her directions, a part of you wishing he would act colder towards her, but knowing it wasn't in Sicheng's nature to behave that way towards juniors.

"Thank you so much!" she said, beaming at him shyly before she left.

"Who's that, huh?" you asked, smirking at Sicheng.

"Just a junior," he shrugged, the both of you walking into the lift, squeezed at the back behind a crowd of students.

You pretended to be deep in thought, "Didn't seem like it though, did it, older brother?" you mocked, repeating the words of his junior.

Sicheng almost immediately replied, "Oh my god, shut up that was so gross, don't ever say that again," he shivered, trying to hide the fact that he was absolutely endeared to you and secretly wished you would say it again, but knowing he wouldn't be able to contain his happiness if you did.

You gasped, slightly offended at his outburst as you walked out of the lift.

"What?! What's so different about me saying it and her saying it!" you scoffed, seeing him shake his head, giving you a patronizing smile.

"It's really gross when you say it cause you're my friend!" he told you, making you scoff, at a loss for words.

Was this....him friendzoning you?

"Let's just go home." you shook your head, pushing the conversation behind you.

===

"Do you think this means he doesn't like me?" you sighed, seeing your friend shrug, you and Sicheng had developed a routine of seeing each other after classes or practice, even if it meant just hanging out and watching movies, or just him coming over to your house but ending up falling asleep on your couch because he was so tired from practice, but what bothered you wasn't the routine, but incidents like those in the library that made you confused over how he saw you.

Sure, he did nice gestures for you, but anyone could be nice to you with unromantic intentions. Xiaojun was nice to you, but he had no intention of dating you, so how could you be sure about the fact that he was interested in you?

"You can't be sure....i mean, from what I'm seeing he does a lot of nice things for you..but he doesn't necessarily...outrightly tell you things that can make you sure that he likes you?"

You sighed, waiting for your food to be ready. You'd planned on surprising Sicheng and bringing some food to him since you told him you'd meet him in his practice room.

"Don't overthink it," your friend gave you a sympathetic look, "Maybe he's just not that great at expressing how he feels?" she shrugged, making you shrug with her, collecting your food.

"You're going to see him now, aren't you?" you nodded, giving her a grim look. "All the best," she laughed, waving you goodbye as you left in the direction of the practice room.

What you didn't expect to find was to see Sicheng lying on the floor of the dance studio, sprawled on his back, wearing the same checkered sweatpants and a plain white shirt. He looked as though he was sleeping, not making a single move even when you entered the room loudly.

"Sicheng?" you called, not seeing him move, finding his demeanour similar to when you'd seen him the previous week, sleeping off his stress when he was supposed to be fine-tuning the report with Ten.

You set your bag down next to his, bringing the packets of food as you made your way next to him, not wanting to disrupt his sleep but at the same time knowing he had to eat.

You decided to text Ten first, in the hope that it would give you some insight as to how Sicheng was feeling.

6:23pm - hey, how was Sicheng during practice today? -

ten 6:23pm -???? we didn't meet today we said today would be a rest day-6:23pm - why?? did smth happen? is he ok? -

Frowning, you checked the date, it was only a matter of days before Sicheng and Ten's showcase, and you could tell that Sicheng was nervous, especially judging from his behaviour today.

"Hey, Sicheng, wake up," you murmured seeing him frown, his eyes opening slowly to see you sitting next to him, blinking at you before letting out a deep sigh.

Sicheng felt as though he was in some sort of hazy dream, the sight of you and the smell of food making his head spin, not being able to quite remember how he ended up asleep on the floor.

"What were you doing here the whole day?" you worried, seeing him push himself off the floor to sit with his knees up, resting his folded arms on his knees.

"Practicing....I guess," he shrugged, his gaze travelling to the bag containing food that sat next to you.

Realizing what he was staring at, you started emptying out the bag, laying the food in front of the both of you.

"Here, eat," he nodded at you wordlessly, starting to open the packets to eat.

You felt a little concerned at his lack of a response, not knowing if your presence here was welcomed or not, but Sicheng was thankful, even if it was hard for you to see that.

"Ten told me you guys were supposed to have a rest day today," he looked at you and nodded, confirming it.

"And?" you asked. "What part about 'rest' in 'rest day' do you not understand?" your eyebrows knit together in a frown, unsure what Sicheng's take on this was.

"I had to practice, Y/N." he swallowed his food with a wince, and looking down you realized he was almost done with his food. "I needed to just shut myself in here and concentrate. I know myself best and I know that I wasn't putting my all into this the past few practices," he told you, making your frown deepen.

"What makes you think that?" you murmured, looking down at your food, poking at it for lack of appetite, your worry for him getting the better of you.

Sicheng looked at you with a nervous expression, looking as if he was withholding something. What was he supposed to answer to that? oh, because I couldn't stop thinking about you? or oh, because I keep wanting to get it over with so I can meet you after? or oh, because I'm so stressed about how I can't bring myself to tell you how much I like you?

His expression was blank, shrugging as he mumbled, "just a feeling."

"Look, I know, you're stressed, but you have to trust me when I say that I've seen your rehearsals and you and Ten are doing so well!" you murmured, not missing the way he sighed as he reached for the plastic bag, dumping his empty packaging into the bag and leaning back to rest his weight on his hands.

"That's different, Y/N. You're you, and the teachers are the teachers. Not to mention my parents."

You raised your eyebrows in confusion, prompting him to elaborate.

“You're a lot nicer to me than they are," he murmured.

You felt something in you hurt when you heard how defeated he sounded, giving him a reassuring smile, "Hey, when did that ever stop you?" you asked, seeing him look at you, a tiny glimmer of hope in his eyes, shaking his head.

"Stop running away from your problems, man, face them head on! Sleep's not gonna perfect your dance for you," you held your fists up in a gesture to cheer him on, seeing him shake his head with a smile, rolling his eyes as he got up from the floor, nodding.

"Can you help me?" he asked, telling you what he wanted you to look out for, and to help him find ways to improve his expression from an audience's perspective.

You nodded, finishing your food and setting it aside, jogging over to a space in front of the mirrors and sitting down in front of it, opening your packet drink as he passed you his phone, with the song on the screen already.

"Ready?" You asked with a smile, seeing him cast you a unsure glance, leaning his head back with a groan.

You'd pressed play to the song, seeing him start his routine, only when he'd gotten to the part where he had to do a one-handed cartwheel had he stopped after that, wanting to restart.

You paused the music, "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, looking at you with an expression you couldn't place the feeling of.

"Just calm down, relax. You know this routine by heart, just don't think about anything else.." you

saw him nod at you, getting back into his starting position.

"Ready?" he nodded again, and when you played the music this time, you could see how much more in his element he was, letting his movements flow, performing tricks with ease, not to mention the intensity with which he performed, almost like an upgrade from the past rehearsals you've seen.

Once the song ended, he looked at you with a shy smile, smiling widely even as he caught his breath, and you couldn't help yourself from cheering and clapping.

"That was great! Best I've seen from you by far," he gave you a look.

"Why were you so nervous about it anyway? You danced it so well!" you said, seeing him shake his head at you.

"You know contemporary dance isn't my specialty, right?" Your eyebrows raised, making him laugh his deep bubbly laugh, covering his head with his hands. The way he looked at you now was the mischievous kind of look he gave you whenever he knew something you didn’t.

"It isn't? Then what is your specialization?" you wondered, sipping on your drink as he did a small turn.

"Chinese traditional dance," you gasped, almost being able to imagine Sicheng dancing that style of dance, and how mesmerising he would look while doing so.

"Oh my god...can you show me?"

Sicheng laughed, "huh?" his tone was embarrassed, as if he was suddenly too shy to dance for you.

You nodded vigorously, "please, I really wanna see," you clasped your hands together, rubbing them together in a pleading gesture.

He nodded. 

"Anything for you," he told you in mandarin, you being to excited to fully process what he was saying.

"Can you reach in my bag and take out the fan?" he pointed to his bag, and you'd rolled over, reaching his bag and taking out a fan that was considerably bigger than you'd expected, handing it to him.

"This is really short, but just something I choreographed a while ago," he murmured, and you swore you saw a tint of pink shading his cheeks as he scrolled his phone for the song, pressing play and proceeding to dance the most enchanting thing you'd ever seen him dance.

You knew he was talented when you saw how he danced with Ten, but seeing him dancing something that he had so much skill in, so much technique and control over, it was like you'd fallen for him even more while watching him.

"Wow..." was all you could muster when he was done, turning back to you and hiding his face with the opened fan as he laughed, the way his tone would rise as he laughed serving to endear you even more to him if that was possible.

"What?" he asked you, making you shake your head, a giddy awestruck look on your face.

"I don't know how to describe it, but all Iknow is that I loved it," you told him, seeing him raise his hands dramatically, bowing dramatically in all directions.

"Thank you everybody!" he said in mandarin, sounding similar to those actors you would see at award shows.

You scoffed playfully, feigning hurt, stomping up to him, with your hands on your hips.

"Why are you thanking everyone! I'm the one who was encouraging you," you laughed, seeing his eyes widen.

Grinning at you, he blew a flying kiss to you with his fan.

"Oh, right, thank you, kiss kiss (么么哒)," he said, making you laugh.

"I don't know what that means but...i'll take it," you murmured, seeing him close the fan, looking at you with a tired smile. The kind of smile you would see in movies when the protagonist realizes he's in love, but in this case, Sicheng was the protagonist, and he was currently kicking himself on the inside because what are you doing!!! now is the perfect time to tell her you like her!!

But all Sicheng could do was smile, his words failing him at the worst of times, leaving an awful big load of tension between you two as you secretly hoped this movie-protagonist-in-love look would mean you would receive a slow-mo worthy confession now, only to get a shock when Sicheng had broken the silence.

"The tickets are with Xiaojun," he blurted, your potential movie-moment slipping away just as fast as Sicheng snapped his fan open, walking over to your bags and wrapping the plastic bag of your trash as a way for him to hide how frustrated he was with himself, scrunching his eyes up with an annoyed tilt of his head.

You were busy trying to hide your disappointment as well, using the time he was preoccupied with clearing the empty food packets to take deep breaths, calming your racing heart every time it remembered how close you came to revealing your feelings for him.

"Ready to go home?" he murmured, standing up and turning to face you, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

Recovering from your shock you nodded, "Yep, yeah. Let's go."

===

"Okay, let's do it again, just pretend I'm Y/N," Xiaojun said, not bothering to adjust his sitting posture, making it very hard for Sicheng to imagine the skinny boy in front of him chewing loudly on his lunch to be you.

Sicheng shot Renjun a helpless look, "save me, please."

Renjun shaking his head at the same time as Ten chimed in, "Me, me! I'd do it a lot better than Xiaojun," he claimed confidently, crossing his legs and straightening his posture, giving Sicheng a sensual look.

Sicheng shoved Ten, groaning, "None of you are actually helping, you know."

Renjun shook his head in disapproval at Xiaojun and Ten, pulling Ten out of his seat so he could sit in front of Sicheng, looking at the older boy with a neutral expression.

"Okay, pretend I'm Y/N, and just try to tell me something you've wanted to tell me for a while now," Renjun said simply, as if it should be second-nature for Sicheng to do.

"For someone who wants to go to an acting school, you really suck at this roleplay thing," Ten commented, arms folded over his chest as he watched Sicheng and Renjun.

"It's not as easy as you think, okay?" Sicheng groaned, “I regret asking you guys for help.”

Sicheng knew he’d only ended up in this situation after he told them what had happened in the dance studio the other day, the boys immediately initiating a plan to help their friend gain the courage to express his feelings to her.

“Focus!” Renjun clapped his hands in front of Sicheng, who had managed to get his expression to be neutral, his leg starting to bounce anxiously as he thought of what to say.

“Y/N,” he started, “well...you know...we’ve been friends for a...substantial amount of time now...”

“Cut!” Renjun yelled, making Sicheng frown, wondering what he said to make Renjun stop him so fast.

“Firstly, you’re not gonna confess to her in mandarin, are you? And second of all, that was the most unromantic starting sentence I've ever heard.” Sicheng sighed, switching to english.

“Okay, rewind.Y/N, I....” Sicheng felt himself start to second guess the sentences he had planned, suddenly feeling like for every way he could think of to confess to you, there would be a nicer way to do it that he would think of immediately after, making him stop himself, sighing again.

“You know maybe his saving grace will be that she still likes him even though he’s not very good with his words,” Xiaojun shrugged, making Sicheng shoot him a look.

“In all honesty, I feel like i’m okay expressing my feelings to her, just that I didn't know how she’d react, like, what if she wasn’t looking for a relationship-”  Xiaojun practically burst out laughing at that, shaking his head at Sicheng as the three of them looked at him in curiosity (and a little bit of concern).

“Believe me, you’re way off if you think that,” he laughed.

Sicheng gave him a look, “What do you mean?”

Xiaojun raised his hands in defence, “I mean, i’m not gonna out her, but all I’m gonna say is that the last thing you should be afraid of is that she isn’t looking for a relationship.”

Sicheng hummed thoughtfully at what Xiaojun was implying.

This thought lingered with Sicheng until the day of the showcase, when Sicheng had been greeted with the news that his teacher had invited his family to watch the showcase, and as if that wasn’t horrifying enough, they actually agreed.

“Dude,” Ten called at the jittery boy who was currently squatting behind the stage curtains, peeking out to search for his parents in the crowd, and silently hoping to God that he wouldn’t spot them.

When Sicheng hadn’t answered, Ten tried again, “Dude!” he called, louder this time.

Ten sighed when Sicheng’s head whipped around quickly, his expression panic-stricken.

Walking over to where Sicheng was squatting, he cast the boy a sympathetic look.

“I heard about the um...parents thing,” he told Sicheng, the mere reminder of it making Sicheng let out a deep breath he wasn’t aware that he was holding.

Sicheng felt suffocated, the murmuring of the crowd only seeming to grow in volume.

“I’m gonna go get some air,” Sicheng sighed, Ten letting him walk out, hoping the air would do his dance partner some good as well.

You had just reached the performance venue with Xiaojun, you were already seated with Xiaojun when you’d started to feel a little thirsty, wanting to step outside to find something you could drink. Already having bought your drink, you were about to make your way back, opening your phone because you’d wanted to send an encouraging message to Sicheng, almost groaning when you saw a text come in from Xiaojun.

Xiaojun 5:37pm - can you get me a water too pls ?? renjun wants a coke -

Sighing, you made your way back to the vending machine, about to take your wallet out again when you’d spotted someone seated at one of the benches near you, head buried in their hands.

Frowning, you wondered if they were alright, pushing the coins absentmindedly into the vending machine as you tried to lean back as much as you could to get a better view of the boy.

The boy had looked up, making eye contact with you and looking away quickly, his hands going up to wipe at his eyes, and you realized only then that that was Sicheng.

Frowning, you carried the drinks in your hand as you walked over to where he was sitting, taking as seat next to him on the bench, looking at him in concern.

“Hey, are you okay?” you frowned.

Sicheng had avoided your gaze, fidgeting with his hands as he shrugged. “My parents are here,” he finally sighed, making your eyes widen, knowing the implications behind that.

“It’s my first time actually performing in front of them...like, ever.”

You weren’t sure what came over you when you reached a hand out to grasp his gently, surprised when he’d fidgeted with your hand instead, letting you grasp his hand and you squeezed his gently, hearing a shaky sigh leave him.

“I want to make them proud. I really do. But I just feel like I’m not ready yet, I don't know why my teacher invited them without telling me I wasn’t prepared for this at all and I’m so-” he stopped abruptly, a sigh leaving his lips as he looked up, blinking rapidly to stop his tears from spilling out.

“So worried that they won’t have a reason to be proud of me after watching me.” he mumbled, his words muffled by his hand that reached up to dab at the tear that had rolled down his cheek.

“Hey,” you started, seeing him look towards you, inhaling deeply as he tried to regulate his breathing, “I know I won’t understand exactly how you feel, but I can tell you that if you really want to make them proud, your job is to go out there and show them just why you love performing so much. You’ve worked so hard up ‘til this point, there’s nothing else left for you to do other than to just show them the result of this hard work,” you told him, hoping your words made sense as you tried to console him.

“Xiaojun and Renjun are already inside. We know what you’re capable of, and we’ll be supporting you,” you flushed, suddenly feeling shy to be telling him this but going out on a limb and telling him anyway in your desperation to make him feel less anxious.

“I’ll be rooting for you,” you mumbled, looking away in your embarrassment, not noticing the way Sicheng’s lips had trembled, his eyes not welling up in tears but his throat feeling as though it was closing up on itself, his chest feeling like it was almost burning with warmth, wishing you hadn’t stood up so quickly.

“You should probably be going in, the showcase is gonna start soon,” you gestured to the entrance, picking up the drinks in your hands and turning to bid Sicheng goodbye, the boy contemplating whether or not to hug you, realizing his contemplating had made him miss his chance when he saw you walking away from him.

Later on, you felt yourself growing nervous as you saw Sicheng and Ten step onto the stage, the announcer introducing them and giving a small background about the piece they would be performing. Sicheng felt it too, shutting his eyes after he got into position and breathing slowly. Opening his eyes again, he’d made eye contact with Ten, who gave him a reassuring smile.

And you were glad to say he had danced more beautifully than you had ever seen before.

After the performance, he and Ten had gone outside the venue after it was over to take pictures with friends who had shown up, seeing you and Xiaojun waiting there, you nervously clutching a bouquet of flowers in your hand that Xiaojun basically forced you to buy.

Tugging at the sleeve of your sweater, you waited impatiently for Sicheng to finish taking pictures with his teachers and other friends—Renjun would joke and say your flowers would be dead by the time they were done— and Xiaojun had eventually gotten sick of waiting and dragged you by the arm to where Sicheng and Ten were, with Renjun following close behind.

“Hey guys,” Ten drawled when he saw you, Xiaojun and Renjun approaching, looking at Sicheng with a pointed look, nudging his head in your direction, to which Sicheng furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“What?” he said in mandarin, eyes widening when he saw you holding out the bouquet of flowers for him, trying to distract yourself from the fact that the leather jacket he’d put over his performance outfit was distracting you greatly, having already given one bouquet to Ten while he was distracted.

“You guys wanna take a picture together?” you heard Renjun yell, and Xiaojun took that as his queue and pushed you towards Sicheng. You winced as you lost your balance with a yelp, only steadying yourself when Sicheng grabbed your arm, taking the flowers from you with a grateful nod.

“Stop being awkward,” Renjun mouthed with a glare, and you’d fixed your hair, suddenly feeling shy about your proximity to Sicheng, not knowing how to arrange your hands, but thankfully for the both of you, you had Ten on your side.

Sicheng had started simple, by placing his hand over your shoulder, his other hand holding the bouquet, tilting his head towards yours for the picture.

Meanwhile Renjun was hard at work bending down to find better angles to capture you both in.

“Okay..okayy,” you laughed, hoping you would hear that Renjun was done taking photos, but instead hearing Ten’s commentary as he watched Renjun taking photos of you.

“Okay, change pose,” he said, making you and Sicheng flustered, not knowing what other pose you could possibly do, Sicheng with his arm around your shoulder, looking at you with a tilt of the head as if to ask you what pose to do next, making you shrug.

“Should we just end it now?” he leaned closer to whisper, making you nod with a small wince.

Sicheng waved his hand dismissively, letting go of your shoulder and telling them that photo taking was over, Renjun putting his phone down with a huff and you swore he was muttering something about you guys being unappreciative.

They were all preoccupied with airdrop-ing the photos to each other, giving you a chance to properly congratulate Sicheng for successfully getting through his showcase, pulling him down for a hug to congratulate him, your heart jumping for joy at the comfort you felt when he hugged you back.

It felt like you hugged him for the longest time, and Sicheng knew this too, his free hand going up to cradle your head before pulling away, embarrassed that you’d hugged him in front of Ten, Renjun and Xiaojun.

You glanced at Sicheng, searching his expression and noticing how his eyes looked a little teary and bloodshot.

“Thanks for coming,” he murmured, his voice sounding slightly shaky which made him clear his throat quickly, making Renjun scoff.

“Did we have a choice? Ten would’ve killed us if we didn’t show up,” Renjun rolled his eyes.

“Did you tell her about the party yet?” you heard Ten ask, seeing you frown in confusion.

“What party?” you asked him.

His eyes widened in realisation, “Oh, right.  I'm having a christmas party kind of thing, and i was wondering if you wanna come?”

You thought about it, Christmas wasn’t until next week, so you were pretty sure you would have enough time to prepare something to wear for the party.

“When is it?”

“Uh..we wanted it to kind of happen early because Ten’s flying home for Christmas, and I’m flying to China to go see my grandparents for christmas as well, so we were thinking of having it this Saturday?” he asked, and you’d glanced at your phone for confirmation.

This meant you had 3 days to prepare gifts for them and figure out what you were gonna wear.

“Oh.....well, alright then, that’d be nice,” you nodded, slowly recovering from your shock to give him a smile.

“Should I be anticipating your gift?” he asked, making you shake your head firmly.

“God, please don’t. I suck at giving gifts,” you laughed, “should i be anticipating yours?” you asked, just for the fun of it, both of you not expecting the way Sicheng had simply nodded.

“Yes, I'd like you to.”

===

That very statement was what left Sicheng a whining mess up until the day of the party, trying to figure out what the hell had compelled him to say that when he didn’t even have a proper gift in mind yet, almost contemplating asking his mom for advice when he heard her loudly packing in her bedroom.

“Ma,” he’d burst her bedroom door open, realizing with a disappointed sigh that it was his dad and not his mom.

“Your mom’s downstairs,” he told Sicheng, who had then promptly ran down the stairs of his house, finding his mother in the living room wrapping apples for the people she’d planned on giving them to on Christmas.

That’s when it hit him, he knew what he was going to give you for Christmas.

You on the other hand, weren’t having such luck in the gift department. You wanted to get Sicheng something meaningful and nice, but for lack of better ideas you decided on buying Sicheng a new set of headphones. You were familiar with Sicheng’s complaints about his parents nagging him for staying up late whenever he was gaming his parents since he didn’t use headphones, being too lazy to buy them, so you figured you’d do both him and his parents a favour with this gift.

Whereas for Ten, Xiaojun and Renjun (the only ones you actually knew who were going for this party) you’d already settled their gifts. So to any other person, you would have seemed to have everything under control, except, you had no idea what to wear.

Ten had tried helping you, suggesting you should wear something comfortable since it was cold out, but you weren’t necessarily sure how to impress Sicheng with your comfortable clothes, eventually letting Ten pick out for you a simple outfit, even forcing you to wear a scarf over it because he claimed Sicheng would think you looked cute.

So you trusted him (whether this was a good choice or a bad choice is up to you, really), and had brought your gifts, specially and individually wrapped, along with your own little handwritten note to Sicheng, and followed Ten to the party.

Only upon reaching were you truly thankful that he’d made you wear a scarf, it was cold out, and you were thankful that Sicheng’s house had pretty good heating. Not that you didn’t like being in the cold, you were just pretty sure you wouldn’t have liked it as much if you’d gone with your previous outfit choice.

Walking into the party, you’d spotted Xiaojun quickly, walking over to where he was in the kitchen, Ten having left you to greet the other guys Sicheng invited that you weren’t familiar with.

“Hey,” he waved, the sleeve of his oversized sweater engulfing his arm, making him look even smaller than usual.

Your greeting came out muffled as you loosened your scarf, hanging it around your neck loosely instead, “Have you seen Sicheng?” you asked, seeing him shake his head.

Feeling a little more than disappointed, you’d taken a drink from him before looking around the house, realizing that maybe Sicheng was a little more well-off than he’d let on, impressed by the warm lighting accompanying the chandeliers and very comfortable looking sofas, you’d been dragged by Renjun to join their movie session in the living room, only then realizing that Sicheng was there, engrossed in the Narnia movie that was playing on his (big) television set.

“Y/N’s finally here,” Ten’s voice had captured Sicheng’s attention, the boy turning around in his seat to look at you, and only then did you realize how good he looked.

Wearing a thick dark green sweater and jeans that were folded up at the bottom, not to mention his hair was styled up, he turned to you with a wave, patting the seat next to him as an invitation to sit there. In your attempt to get over your shock over his outfit, you took your time in placing the gifts at the Christmas tree, bringing his gift to where he sat, tucking it between your legs and the sofa as you sat down, realizing the space was tighter than you’d expected, making you have to squeeze shoulder to shoulder with Sicheng- almost spilling your drink in the process.

“Are those glasses real?” you whispered, not wanting to interrupt the rest of the guys who were watching the movie, the younger looking one sitting next to Renjun with bright orange hair eyeing you and Sicheng with a knowing look.

Sicheng shook his head.

“Nope, they were a gift from Jaehyun,” he pointed at one of the guys sitting on the floor next to the coffee table, wearing a black sweater and very ripped jeans.

“I’m wearing them because he was so insistent that I didn't like them,” he explained, and you desperately wished he would whisper because the way his hushed tone sounded so near to you wasn’t doing anything in calming you down.

“When did you get here?” he asked, making you shrug, not really wishing to disclose the time you spent in the kitchen hiding from the crowd.

“Not long ago, I was just in the kitchen with Xiaojun,” you told him, the mention of the kitchen directing his attention to the cup in your hand, leaning over to sniff it, his proximity to your face making you lean back.

Leaning back after sniffing your drink, he raised an eyebrow at you, “You drink this stuff?” his voice was surprised to say the least, relief washing over him when you shook his head.

“I don’t even know what it is, I just took it from Xiaojun but it smells like the hospital,” you made a face of disgust, hearing him let out a huff of laughter, grabbing your arm that was holding the drink and bringing it up to his face, downing it in one go before taking the cup from your hands and leaning forward to place it on the coffee table, returning to his original position and giving you a small smile.

“One less thing to worry about,” he shrugged, and you went back to watching the movie, seeing that it was only at the part where Edmund meets the witch.

The more you watched, you felt your head start to loll back, not realizing the movie had ended and the guys were now trying to decide whether to play 2 truths and 1 lie.

Sicheng had purposely shifted around in his seat more to wake you up before you could fall asleep, your head shooting up quickly, catching the attention of a few of them who turned to look at you curiously.

“Y/N, you wanna play 2 truths and 1 lie?” Renjun asked, making you frown.

“I really suck at that game though..”

Sicheng gave you a reassuring look, about to say something when he was interrupted.

“C’mon, in the spirit of christmas!” Xiaojun had chimed in to encourage you, earning nods and cheers of agreement from the rest of them scattered around the room.

Hearing the sound of them putting on a christmas playlist, you’d felt encouraged for some reason, giving a small shrug of agreement. You figured it wouldn’t be that bad.

That was until it was Sicheng’s turn and you found yourself panicked beyond belief, growing more nervous to see what he would say.

“Hmmm...okay, got it, I have someone I'm interested in, I have mistletoe hanging in here, and I’m afraid of heights.”

The boys had immediately chimed in with their various opinions, Ten shooting Xiaojun an impressive look at Sicheng for being so bold with his choice of truths, being the only ones that knew of Sicheng’s...character development. Though they weren’t sure if it was because of the drinks he had prior to that or whether he was simply feeling confident today.

“This one’s easy!” a guy with short brown hair had raised his hand, “The lie is obviously that he’s interested in someone, he hasn’t been interested in anyone for ages,” he’d said confidently, making Sicheng smile, just as another boy had chimed in.

“I feel like he had mistletoe here somewhere at the last party, though,” a younger-looking boy said, earning a, “You wish, Mark.” from another boy with a sharper pitched voice and very pretty tan skin.

“The lie is.....” Sicheng made a cute sound that he’d always done before announcing things, “I have mistletoe in here,” he said, the crowd of boys erupting in shouts and protests at the answer before moving on to the next person, who had seemed to capture their attention for long enough.

“Wanna go upstairs? I wanted to like..give you your present...and stuff,” Sicheng leaned over to ask you softly, making you nod, grabbing his present and following him upstairs, the boys noticing but choosing not to say anything.

Once you’d gotten upstairs, he stopped you for a while so he could go into his room, coming out with a small paper bag and continuing to lead you upstairs, glad you hadn’t taken off your scarf when he’d opened a door to the rooftop, revealing different plants and even a stone walkway leading up to a sheltered wooden planked area where you sat down with him, looking through the transparent glass of the balcony at the buildings of his neighbourhood, finding it cute how he had little lights hanging from the shelter.

You’d sat in silence initially, enjoying the feeling of the cold breeze against your cheeks, shutting your eyes instinctively in your attempt to savour the feeling.

“Thank you, by the way.”

You opened your eyes, eyebrows raising at Sicheng, “Oh, it’s no big deal, I didn’t have anything planned for today so-”

“No, not for coming today. I mean, that too but...I sort of meant for like..comforting me the other day,” Sicheng looked at you, a small shy smile playing at his lips, “I really needed that.”

Your lips parted, wondering what made him suddenly want to thank you for that. Choosing to give him a nod, you shook your head, “I really did mean what I said.”

Sicheng nodded, “I know.” He smiled, letting his gaze travel elsewhere as he stretched his legs out in front of him, swaying them side to side as he tried to contain his smile.

“Can I go first? My gift is pretty underwhelming,” you said, seeing him let out a tiny giggle but nod nonetheless, taking that as your queue to take out your gift from the bag, giving him the wrapped package of the headphones, watching him rip the packaging open casually, his eyes widening when he realized what it was. He’d placed the envelope containing your christmas letter for him gingerly back into the bag.

“Oh my god.... thank you so much,” he said, his eyes practically sparkling with how much he’d liked the present, making you shake your head.

“Use them well, okay?” you murmured, seeing him hesitantly reach over to pick up the bag containing his present for you, only serving to heighten your curiosity for what could’ve been in that bag.

“Okay, oh my god, why am i so shy,” you heard him whisper, making you laugh, “Hold your hands out and close your eyes,” he instructed, making you do as you were told, anticipating your present, shocking you when you’d felt something cold in your hands, opening your eyes to see....an apple?

“Is this another one of your jokes,” you pouted, seeing him shake his head, staring at the apple as if looking for answers.

“My family, uh...we have this like..tradition thing, where we give apples to people for christmas... like....to the people we care about,” he murmured, a shy smile gracing his features, looking up at you to see your reaction, wanting to reach over and pinch your cheeks when he saw your wide eyed expression, gripping the apple tightly in your hands.

Sicheng shivered at how cringeworthy he felt his words were, his hands going up to cup his neck, and for a moment you were distracted by his actions, concern for him taking over your shock.

“Are you cold? Do you want my scarf?” you asked, genuinely concerned for him only having a sweater to protect him from the cold.

Sicheng burst into laughter, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, “Isn’t that usually the other way around?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, only realizing then the context of what you’d said, making you hide your face with the apple in embarrassment, feeling him pull the apple away from your face, tilting his head at you in amusement.

“As I was saying....i would give you a thousand apples if i could, but that was impractical and sounded like a lot of work, but I just want you to know that if I could, I would have. But okay back to the point, the point is that, I care about you...like, a lot,” he paused, pressing his lips together and taking in a deep breath, “and not just as a friend.”

You pressed your lips together in a firm line, biting down on your lower lip trying to keep your composure, shyness taking over you at how close you were to Sicheng, not to mention what he was saying, especially given the context of the situation.

“Was that what you meant? When..you said just now during the game that you were uh... interested in someone?” you plucked up your courage to ask, seeing him bite the inside of his cheek, nodding wordlessly at you.

“Just kinda wanna know if this person’s interested in me too,” he murmured, making your cheeks heat up, wishing he hadn’t taken the apple from your hands so you had something to hold onto.

You nodded, “She is-i mean, yeah. I am,” you blurted, fumbling with your words like an idiot (a very love struck idiot, in fact).

Sicheng nodded, his smile growing wider, and just like that, it was like everything was more obvious to you, the sound of the christmas songs playing echoing up through the open door of the rooftop, to the sound of the guys fooling around downstairs, down to the sound of the cold breeze bristling your faces, and the warm lighting around you both. Sicheng felt it too, and now it was his turn to feel like the protagonist of the movie, now having to find something smooth to say that would make his love interest kiss him and then the story can end happily.

But Sicheng being Sicheng, just blurted out the next thing that came to his head, “Oh, look, how convenient, mistletoe,” he commented, glancing up at the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling of the shelter, dangling over your heads mockingly.

You gasped, “You totally lied just now, that was 2 lies,” you laughed, seeing him shake his head.

“In my defense, I told them ‘in here’, they just happened to interpret that as the living room,” he shrugged, your laughter dying down as he looked at you, fiddling with the apple in his hands.

“Can I..kiss you?”

You smiled, pretending to hesitate, “Let me consider.”

In his offence, he’d reacted quickly in rushed mandarin, “You still need to consider?! Isn’t it just agreeing!”

Nodding at him, he’d leaned forward, removing his glasses and setting it aside with your apple, bringing up a hand to hold it under your chin, tilting your head up as he connected your lips, smiling at how you could feel his hand slide under your scarf, placing at your neck gently, his hand doing a lot better at warming your neck than your scarf did, following his lead in the kiss.

You almost frowned when you felt Sicheng pull away slowly, but he didn’t give you a reason to. Sicheng’s other hand came up to rest gently against your cheek as he pressed soft kisses to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, letting out an amused huff before he pressed a final soft kiss to your forehead, suddenly feeling like you were indoors, warmth enveloping you despite being outside in the cold.

You’d leaned over to rest your head against his shoulder, “Can we stay like this for a while before going back down?” you murmured softly, practically being able to hear him smile.

He continued in mandarin, his voice not making you shiver this time, but instead, comforting you beyond belief.

“Anything you say is fine by me.”

===

You’d gotten a video call from Sicheng on New Years Eve, celebrations had ended and you were already tucked into bed, slightly buzzed from the drinks you had at your house with Xiaojun and Renjun earlier when they’d come over for dinner, claiming you didn't have Sicheng here to drink your drinks for you so you might as well enjoy it.

“Hey,” he murmured, lying on his bed in his checkered pajamas, resting his head on his arm as he gave you a smile.

“Hi,” you said, giving him a lazy smile, making him raise an eyebrow in amusement at your buzzed-looking state.

“I see you’ve had more than a couple drinks with Xiaojun and Renjun just now?” you laughed, nodding, prompting him to continue, “I know it’s a little late, but...I just read your christmas note you gave me,” he told you.

“You’re only reading it now?”

He scoffed, nodding as if you should’ve known that, “Yeah, of course, I was saving it so I could read it on Christmas day itself...but I didn’t have the time and then the only good time I had was now and now...after reading it, it made me wanna call you because...I missed you,” he murmured, changing his position so he was resting his chin on his arm.

You scrunched your nose up out of shyness.

“Since when did you get so bold?” you laughed, seeing him shake his head.

“Anyway,  I just wanted to check in on you. Had a good day today?” you nodded, telling him all the minor details about your day as he nodded, smiling and laughing and commenting every so often.

You’d listened to the details of his day as well.

“We just finished dinner, thought i would call you now before they all gather in the living room to watch movies,” he told you.

Nodding in understanding, you yawned, blinking tiredly, making him huff. “You should go to sleep now, i’ll talk to you more tomorrow....” he murmured, seeing you give him a tired yet reluctant nod.

“I’m really sorry, I wanna talk to you more because you’re spending New Year’s over there but the sleep is starting to creep up on me,” you pouted.

Shaking his head, he simply looked at you with that same relieved smile he gave you, realizing just how much he liked you, the extent threatening to tip over the line dividing like and love.

“Happy New Year, cheng cheng,” you teased, recalling what you heard his grandma call him, seeing him bury his head in his arm, his laugh muffled but no less cute.

“Happy New Year, Y/N.”

You’d ended the call, and his mother had walked into the room, a knowing look on her face, “Done with your sappy phone call yet?” she teased.

Sicheng simply sighed, flopping onto his back with a giddy smile on his face.

“Ma, I think I'm in love.”

[darksiders-scenarios]

Hi it's a beautiful day today I hope you days been good I was hoping for a scenario for Strife,Draven and your favourite character about a family member abusing s/o like the one you did for war/death plz maybe

I know this is so so late, I am extremely sorry. I added Fury and Azrael as a continuation from the previous ask. Really sorry. Keep safe

Here’s for War and Death. 

~

Strife

Your abuser's lashing insults morph intochoked splutters when the muzzle of an enormous gun rams into their mouth,breaking their teeth like shards of glass, the impact so abrupt that it sways themoff balance and they land on their haunches.

'Please, don't stop on my account,'came the low, strangely amiable voice.

Recognition dawns in your abuser'seyes when they lock onto its wielder, renewing their attempts to escape. Howdid he get in here?

'You remember me! I'm flattered.'Your abuser's legs pinwheel frantically as Strife slowly rise to his fullheight, Redemption still pinned to the roof of their mouth. 'What'sthat?' Strife asks, mock concern etched on his face and he eases the pressureof his killer grip, allowing your abuser to speak.

'M... Mercy,' they manage to gasp,blood and saliva running down their chin, fingers reaching up to grip Strife'swrists. At the same moment, their body is hurled across the room, slammingagainst the wall and crashing in a heap on the floor.

'Granted!' Strife laughs, whippingout the twin pistol and pointing it at your abuser's prone body.

'Strife,' a tremulous whisper behindhim. 'Please, that's enough.' Strife does not turn to you. 'You think I'm justgoing to stay back and do nothing? This has gone on for far, far toolong. I'm putting a stop to it.'

'You... don't know the full story,'you say after a while.

He whips around. 'I don't care!' hestorms, guilt engulfing him when you flinch away. 'I don't care what you did,what ‘punishments’ you think you deserve, this doesn't justify-' he trails off,eyes wild. He stores his guns away and walks to your abuser's unmoving body,bends down.

'I know you can hear me, scum. A gentlereminder that it is parasites like you that make me understand my sister'sdisdain for humans. You should be grateful to your kindred. While you sat on yourarse, this good-for-nothing-little-shit saved lives and gave hope to brokensouls. A shame, such a shame that you are too stupid to realise that,' Strifeleans closer to whisper in their ear. 'Consider this your final warning, asshole.The next time, Y/N won't be able to protect you.'

Strife sits back and is quiet for along time. Every breath produces a shudder to his limbs. He feels your lighthand on his shoulder. 'Strife?' your voice is small, as though hesitant.

'Do you think I can keep ontolerating this?’ he asks quietly. ‘Your silent suffering from this filth, yourresolve to not show pain. That this has been going on for Creator knows howlong?'

He hears the wet click of your throatas you struggle to contain your emotions. You begin to withdraw your hand butStrife clasps his hand over yours and turns to you. Your cheeks are wet with tears. 'Let me bethere for you,’ he says softly and then carefully hugs you to him, tight in a way tohopefully make you feel secure.

'I’m sorry,' you mumble against hisshoulder. 'I’m sorry Strife.'

'And stop apologising all the damntime. If anything, I should be the one sorry for not noticing before and forshouting at you,' he sighs and places his chin on top of your head, reassuringhimself that you are safe now.  

Draven

Your abuser finally snaps and hurlsthe empty glass at you, along with another barrage of colourful curses. Youreact. You catch it mid-air and without thinking, you throw it back at them andit promptly shatters in their face. The room is filled with the shrill cries oftheir frustrated rage, their face decorated with bloody cuts and budding bruises.Your fist is clenched but you are frozen on the spot, shaking in sheerdisbelief and panic.

'Come on then!' your abuser yells atyou. 'Hit me again, I dare you, you ungrateful bitch!'

'Perhaps I can do the honours,'sounds a calm voice. Before they can react, your abuser's arm is suddenlyyanked harshly behind their back and you hear the disgusting pop signaling adislocated shoulder. You gawp wordlessly at the newcomer. You were obviously toodistracted to notice Draven slipping through the window.

'Draven, please,' you try to warn,knowing the futility of it. ‘

'Get out of my house!' your abusershrieks. 'Let me go or I'll-'

'You'll what?'

They respond by screaming some moreand struggle to free themself. Draven tightens his hold over them and in oneexpert move, he slams them into the table, snapping it in two. You watch,wide-eyed in horror, as your abuser coughs out blood and groans in agony.Draven kneels beside them and they immediately quieten, as though now comprehending their situation.  

'I remember,' Draven begins softly,'For centuries, I wished for nothing more than to be reunited with my people.Back in that prison, I would count the days and nights and wait and wait andwait. Now I see how grossly wrong I am,' his voice lowers and his eyes darken.'I also remember the bitter taste of countless betrayals in a distant time and I swear I will see that my friend never suffers the same betrayal as I have. So Ipromise you this; you will never lay another finger on Y/N. How, you may wonder; for I am takingthem away,’ he stands up, keeping his gaze pinned on your abuser’s sweatingface. ‘With that, I bid you farewell.'

Draven turns to you, and you see thesilent question in his eyes. You give the smallest of nods and hurry upstairsto begin packing.

Fury

'So you're telling me that simplytouching this thing will send me to where human survivors are?'

'That is the very function of the BridgeStone,' Fury smiles at your abuser. 'And you will be pleased to know thatY/N is there too.'  

The spark that lights their eyescould very much be mistaken for hope but Fury knows it for what it is, the eyesof a debased predator. It sickens her to the core. 'They're alive? How do theylook now?'  

'As much as anyone who suffered thepremature war.'

'No, I mea-'

'Isn't the fact that they're aliveand safe enough for you?'

'It is,' they lie hurriedly.

'Besides, why don't you find out foryourself?' Fury says calmly, mustering as much control as she could. She holdsout the Bridge Stone to your abuser. Their fingers close around the relic with several cracks as Fury breaks them in a tight grip. Their screams aremuffled when her hand clamps to their mouth. 'Why?' comes the strangled cry.

Fury leans forwards. 'If you as muchtouch a breadth of hair on my friend...'

'I never tou-'

'...the next thing I'll do is gouge youreyes out and skin your face off all the while slowly pulling your organs out,one by one, as you're crying out and gasping for me stop. But I will only healyou to torture you again.'

She withdraws her hand. Your abuser clutchestheir broken hand. 'You… you have no proof,' they gasp, voiceshaking. 'You honestly believe them, as ‘mighty’ as you are? They are nothingbut a manipulative, lying rotten rat. Even now, after all this, even now,when there's my chance for freedom, they're trying to sabotage me. Rotten pig,I always knew they were a mista-'

Your abuser's diatribe ends in chokedgasps when their neck is being collared by Scorn, hands reaching up,struggling desperately as they're slowly being strangulated. Fury staresimpassively, her grip never faltering.

'Don't struggle. No one can hear youanyway,' Fury whispers in perfect imitation of your abuser.  Their eyes bulge, twitching fingersdesperately clawing at the tight noose around their throat. Their grip slackening, struggles weakening, strength fading...  

Fury lets the unconscious body dropat her feet. Frustration burns in her but she did promise the old Maker to bring them alive. Hopefully, hopefully this will be sufficient to hammer themessage and fear into their skull.

Back at the Tree, you had overheardthe conversation; Ulthane's instructions to Fury about teleporting stray humansback to Haven. You had withdrawn from everyone then and mostly kept toyourself, crafting trinkets with the other Makers and obsessively doing smallerrands around the place. You would always deflect the topic whenever Furytried to talk to you. Ulthane was the one to reveal to her about your abuser.  

'We need 'em alive,' Ulthane hadwarned Fury. 'See if they learn, time will tell. If not, well, I'm sure little Y/Nwon't be too remorseful if they, say, accidentally, drop from the Tree.'

‘You insult me, Maker. You know I amcapable of more than that.’

Fury parts your abuser's lips andgrips their tongue. She taps into her ice hollow magic and freezes the softflesh.

'Y/N will never hear your twistedlies again.'

And crush.

Azrael

Azrael presses his fingers to histemples this time, wincing at the sympathetic stab of pain. No longer can heignore the signs. He closes his eyes and through his mind's eye, he sees thedark grey of your panic, in weak retaliation of the lava-red bursts of yourabuser's rage, mingling with the night-purple of their sense of grandiose. 

Azrael focuses. His connection with the material world fades.

'What the f- where am I?'

'You are safe,' the voice of Azraelreassures your abuser in their mind. 'I am the archangel Azrael, also calledthe angel of death.'

'The... Maybe I should really startcutting down the whiskey.'

'This is indeed a dream of sorts, butone that only I control its direction whereby you are a passing audience. Youare not hallucinating.'

‘So what’s happening?’ 

'I only appear to a rare few in the Third Kingdom. Y/N is one of them. Now I come to you.'

A pause, a hesitation. 'You know therunt?'

'I know your kindred very well. And Ihave been observing you for a while a/n.'

The cold spike of their fear laps atAzrael's conscious. 'Is this... If you're an angel, then am I being blessed?

'I appear in connection with yourcurrent flow of action. I bring you a message. I will show you your potentialfate should you carry on this path.'

'My path, wha-' 

The pulse of lightlances through their essence without warning, piercing their psyche, drowningyour abuser in suffocating darkness. Your abuser wakes to the sounds of brutish snarls and snapping fangs. Below your abuser lay shoals of terrible abominations, nightmarish fiends of insatiable hunger andvampiric bloodlust.

The Well of Souls stares back.

~

All this occurred within fiveheartbeats.

You never feel the blow. You riskglancing up to see your abuser stumbling away from the room, their voicefaltering between stuttering mumbles and strangled weeping.

Before you can process anything, something soft and gentle wafts overyour shoulder, as though the comforting fingers of a friend, there but notthere at once.

'Azrael?' you whisper, eyes brimmingwith unshed tears.

The gentle air envelops you in acomforting cloak, in a protective embrace. And this, this feels real. 

[etlunainmorte]

“As she comes to the city, hollow hands empty,

Eyes open to what lies in wait for her,”

She does not weep nor wail,

In her eyes, home has always been burning.”

***

🌙 To You Who Rejected Me 🌙

***

II

***

"Now, where could that thing be?" Griffon mused to himself as he flew high above the shores of Delphi, looking for that vital something that his master lost when he dived into the ocean to escape those fire - wielding Elves attacking him. The demonic bird has been searching for almost an hour but, with no such luck. "Honestly, it could turn up just about anywhere!" He complained in utter frustration. "This is hopeless!" 

The bird was about to give up on his search when he noticed something gleaming at the corner of his eye. He looked down and squinted those golden eyes of his until he finally saw the thing. Indeed, it was right there, washed up on the shore and almost covered with sand and sea weeds.

There it was, V's antique metal cane!

"There ya are!" Griffon flew down to fetch the thing, at the same time shooing the sea gulls that were trying to claim it as their own like it was some kind of a rare sea artifact, almost fighting over it. "HEY, I SAID, SHOO!" The familiar screeched once more as he let out a weak electrical current to scare the noisy birds away, and it worked to perfection.

"Hoho! Thought I'd never see ya again!" Griffon opened his talons wide, ready to pick up V's cane,...

"What in the - ?!" The bird muttered the moment his talons came into contact with the metal cane. It felt somehow hot, and not just warm. He was not sure whether his eyes were playing tricks on him but, the thing did seem to glow. And finally, the metal cane seemed to tremble a bit against his talons, like it was alive. Sentient.

Still hovering above the sand with V's metal cane in his talons, the demonic bird squinted his eyes in suspicion. Master and familiar alike knew that the cane was nothing but an old piece of metal, and not a source of any kind of power, demonic or not. An aid for V's,... disability. Nothing more.

However, despite that, Griffon could feel something coming from the cane. Like it was emanating some form of unknown power. He just knew it deep within his core.

But, being unimaginably tired after what happened last night, Griffon ignored the cane, ruffled his feathers, and flew back to where Dante and his master were.

"I'm heckin’ tired." Griffon uttered as his wings took him to his destination - the ruins of Apollo's temple. "I'll let Shakespeare deal with ya."

"Your foot seem fine to me, V." Dante said for the third time since morning. 

"I could've sworn I felt this,... excruciating pain when I was attacked,... "

"Well, your foot seem,... fine to me!" And that was the fourth time since morning. "Look, V: you're a son of Sparda. Maybe the Demon blood's finally kickin' in and healed your wounds?"

And to this, V only shook his head. It's impossible for him, after all.

No matter how much or how intense Dante stared at his brother's allegedly injured left foot, he just couldn't find anything wrong with it, save for the missing pair of the poet's old gladiator sandals, and the frayed, almost tattered end of his pants, like something burned it. If anything, to Dante's eyes, V only seemed to have lost the other pair of his unspeakably tacky footwear. And a good riddance to it, if he may add! To the legendary Devil Hunter, it seemed so difficult to move and fight Demons with such footwear. And he would never deny that fact, despite knowing that he could hurt his brother's feelings for having such a questionable taste in fashion.

On the other hand, to V, it was an entirely different story. For, only last night, he swore his foot got burned badly due to the attack. So badly and so painful, he was actually scared to look at it.

And now, as he looked, no, stared, at his foot with disbelief, he couldn't help but feel utterly mystified. First, there was this strange presence that saved him from the enemies, and now this.

It's as if nothing happened to his foot, at all!

And honestly? V could not believe his sheer, dumb luck.

Or, was it even luck?

After all, since those Elves, and her, entered their lives, V and his brother experienced nothing but the unusual. The unknown. And he felt that he must learn to accept such things. Get used to them, so to speak.

V pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and knitting his eyebrows as a helpless sigh escaped his parched lips. Well, there's no use raking up the past. They must focus on the present. They must focus on the now. And for now, they must focus on getting to the Elven world in one piece. The portal led them to Delphi of all places, and V knew it meant something. They were getting really close to their destination. And he knew they would face an even greater danger when they get there. Well, it's not like the Elves would give them a warm welcome or anything. They're still wanted persons, after all.

Opening his eyes once more, he noticed Griffon flying towards them, finally carrying his lost metal cane. He gave a weak smile as the loyal familiar gave the cane back to him and landed on his waiting arm.

Then, V noticed something strange. So did Dante.

"No wisecracks or something?" Dante asked the demonic bird as he crossed his arms and tapped his boot on the ground.

"You do seem a bit quiet." V added, raising his eyebrow as he looked at his familiar.

"Ahh, V," Griffon stuttered, unsure how to begin. " ... didn't ya notice anythin',... weird?"

"Pardon?" The poet asked as Griffon's eyes wandered to the metal cane in his right hand.

"That thing!" The demonic bird squawked.

"Ugh, now what - ?" Dante began when a woman approached them, getting their attention and making them drop their conversation, much to Griffon's frustration.

"Can we help you, lady?" With a flashy grin, the younger brother graciously asked the woman, who was smiling nervously as her eyes went back and forth from him, to V, to the strange avian on the poet's arm.

"I, ahh,... " The lady stuttered, not sure how to address the situation.

"Yes?" And Dante didn't seem to help with the situation, at all. The woman became somewhat more nervous than before she approached them.

Inhaling through her nose and clearing her throat, she began. “Yes, well," She said, pointing at Griffon with a trembling finger.  “The other guests are getting anxious of your,… ahh,… pet bird."

"Is that so?" Dante answered with a boisterous voice. "Don't you worry a thing about our pet bird! You see, he's a rare - "

“I see. Don’t worry.”

All of a sudden, V heard a clear and distinct voice, overlapping with the woman and his brother's voices.

“These are my loyal,… companions. They would bring no harm to any of the innocent people here. That,…”

V's hands went up to his temples as he tried to distinguish and trace where the voice was actually coming from, when the voice itself took over his hearing, drowning out the other voices, and all the other noises going on around him.

“I can assure you.”

The lady let out a helpless laugh, then nodded. “Okay. Whatever you say.” She hastily moved away from Dante to give herself a safe distance from him and Griffon and clumsily pointed at the breathtaking horizon. “Well, now, enjoy your stay here at Delphi!”

The woman, being proud of herself for handling the difficult situation, walked away with a huge smile on her face. And Dante, being a huge flirt, started following the woman.

However, when his brother stepped away, V noticed something taking his place where he stood.

V's eyes narrowed for a second for what he saw. He closed his eyes, rubbed the tiredness and fatigue off them, and opened them once more. However, despite that, the strange figure was still there.

V saw,... himself.

And he, the other him, was drinking in the beautiful sight of Delphi's ruins around him.

“So, V,…” He heard Griffon ask all of a sudden. “Are we going to look for that thing there?”

"I'm sorry - ?" V turned to his left to look at Griffon but, the demonic bird was nowhere to be found.

“Not this time.” V turned towards his other self at the sound of his voice and noticed Griffon, himself, flying towards him. “For now, I need to take a rest and reflect upon our journey, so far.”

V almost fell off the old bench he was sitting on.

That voice,...

... it really was him.

But,... how?!

“The Yamato really does wonders, huh?” the Griffon who was with the other V said, then chuckled, ruffling his own feathers in delight with tiny shakes. “Who knew it would go directly to you and not to that kid Nero?”

"The Yamato?" His other self whispered as V followed him and his familiar on their way towards the ruins of Apollo's temple. What has the Yamato got to do with all this?

“For one thing, I’ am the rightful owner of the Yamato, not the boy Nero.” The other V answered as he skipped some rocks along the pathway that led to the ruins of the temple. “I think it was fitting that it answered to me. But, as grateful as I’ am that it was returned to me,” he said, stopping at what looked like the remains of an altar. “I must not abuse my fragile body by using it over and over to transport us. You see,” He began tracing the remains with the tip of his cane. “It consumes way too much of my,… demonic power. I must be wary of that fact.”

Of course, V thought as he observed what the other V was doing. I don't have,... that much demonic power.

“Aha, so that’s why we had to hitch that stinkin’ bus ride with that awful bitch! Didn’t know how to keep her mouth shut!” And the other Griffon sounded less rude, either.

“Now, be nice to our little human.” V reprimanded the demonic bird. “We will ’hitch’ on the same vehicle on the way back.”

“Ugh! Not again,…”

V watched in amusement how this other Griffon threw tantrums. However, his other self drew V's attention back. He was looking at the altar with an unreadable expression, tracing the edges of the marble altar with his cane.

Then, all of a sudden, he started reciting the few lines of a poem that was very dear to him. It was,...

“As she comes to the city, hollow hands empty,

Eyes open to what lies in wait for her,”

His mother's favorite poem,...

V closed his eyes and recited the old poem along with his other self.

“She does not weep nor wail,

In her eyes, home has always been burning.”

His eyes closed, his senses surrendered to the vision before him, he allowed nostalgia to take over his entire being. Of his mother reading this same poem to him, of her tales about a Princess named Cassandra who was gifted by the God Apollo with the curse of predicting the future,...

... of this hidden gateway of Delphi where she went to after being rejected and stoned by her own people,...

V opened his eyes, feeling something pulling him back from his reverie to the present, like a powerful force.

It was then when he was greeted by the sight of a morphing demonic entity right before his other self, who he assumed was one of his familiars.

He watched in awe as the familiar morphed into multiple pulsing dark vines that filled the entire altar. Him and his other self took a step back as roses of all shapes and sizes sprouted from the dark vines, and when his other self pulled something from the largest rose, his eyes grew wide with shock.

It was the Yamato, only it was glowing in a very unusual way.

V wanted to listen more, to know more, to watch what happens next but, the vision itself began getting blurry as their voices became more and more warped, like a disrupted signal of an old television. The vision, and the voices, warped and warped, until only a distorted and blurry version was left. And before the vision entirely vanished, V saw his other self raising the sword,...

... and slicing the air before him, creating a portal that led him somewhere,...

"V!" He heard Dante's voice from afar, like he was being called by him from the other end of a long tunnel. "V!" He felt a strong hand go down on his shoulder, making him turn around. "What are you doing? I was looking all over for you!"

The poet could barely believe what just happened. He was back, and he felt like he just woke up from a very long dream.

"I, ahh,... " V stuttered, turning back to the altar and seeing nothing there.

"Hey, V," Griffon, who just landed on his waiting arm, asked. " ... are you okay?"

"The gateway,... " The poet uttered, the vision he saw still crystal clear on his mind.

"What gateway?" Dante questioned.

"There's a gateway here." V reiterated as he walked closer towards the altar where his other self vanished. "It was opened using the Yamato."

"How did you know that?" With a raised eyebrow, Dante asked in confusion. "And besides, even if that's true, we can't really use the Yamato. I mean, it's with its owner on the other side of the globe right now."

"We can't rely on Vergil this time, I know." V answered as thoughts and ideas ran through his head like an unstoppable drill. "But, what if the gate,... was left open? What if it was never closed?"

Dante's mouth fell open at the possibility. Only a slight drawback made him close it again and shake his head in disapproval. "But, I see no gate here! All I see in this place are rocks and statues and ruins and tourists everywhere."

V turned to Griffon, who drew back at the intensity in his master's facial features. "Do it."

"Do what?" The familiar questioned.

"Distract the people while I look for the portal."

"How could I do that?! How am I - ?!"

"Alright! I'll do it!" Dante offered, turning away from them and walking away from the altar as he began singing something. And it's working. The tourists, especially the ladies, started listening to him and flocking before him. "I'm lying alone with my head on the phone, thinking of you 'till it hurts,... "

V grabbed this opportunity to look for the portal. He can't be wrong, the vision can't be wrong! They must get to the Elven world and he would do whatever it takes to get there.

He will do whatever it takes to get to her and fix this huge mess that was messing with their lives,...

It was then when he noticed something small and gleaming right before him. He reached out a single finger to touch it, and lo and behold, the small gleam made a tiny ripple that reflected so many bright colors. Like a prism. Another touch of his finger produced a huge ripple, revealing its true nature in all its entirety. Indeed, it was a gate. In the form of a curtain that was seemingly made of glass that reflected light like numerous precious gems.

"Whoa! That looks so unreal!" Griffon, who watched the entire thing with curious eyes, said in awe. "How did you know all this, V?!"

"I'll explain later." The poet answered. "For now, we should press on."

"I'm all out of love, I'm so lost without you - " Dante sang with much gusto, wowing his audience, when he suddenly heard a familiar whistle. He stopped singing and turned around to see V beckoning for him to come join him and Griffon. The Devil Hunter turned back to his audience, made an incredibly believable shocked expression, and pointed at the sky. "Thunderstorm! Incoming thunderstorm! Run and hide for your lives!"

The people instantly believed him, scrambling and running all over the place to shield themselves from Dante's imaginary thunderstorm. The younger brother took this opportunity to join V.

"How in the world - ?!" Dante began questioning at the sight of the translucent gateway but, he was cut short as Griffon went behind him and started pushing him towards the gate.

"I'll explain later! We must hurry!" V ordered, then went through the curtain, looking as if he just vanished into thin air.

"Let's get goin', lover boy!" Griffon squawked, grabbing onto Dante's shoulders with his talons.

"I swear I need to go to therapy after all this." The Devil Hunter said as he, too, went through the curtain and vanished.

***

🌙 Finally! And this one took longer than expected. Enjoy!😁😁😁❤❤❤ 🌙

🌙 Thank you so much to these lovelies, @dreaming-gamer , @la-vita and @thottyonmainsquid .❤❤❤ 🌙

***

A few moments later, Dante arrived at the other side. But, his path was blocked by V, himself, who was standing still, his back turned away from him.

"You alright there, V?" Dante asked as he scratched his temple in confusion. "Aren't we - ?"

"Yes, we are." V cut him off, raising his metal cane and using it to point at something before the two of them. "We have finally arrived."

The younger brother followed V's line of sight, and what he saw before him simply took his breath away.

"Holy mama - !" Dante breathed in awe at the marvelous sight.

***

🌙

***

[laurianos]

Prince’s Gambit - Chapter 19 *waggles eyebrows* Summary

@failes-xtra-bits

Quotes in bold. My comments, thoughts and dumb jokes in italics.

As we all know, this is the chapter where they do the sex. It was very hard not to include everything, but I have summarised and picked out some bits that I’d like to talk more about. Sorry lads, this is a long one, but I have many thoughts!

Before I start, I’d like to mention how interesting it is that the events of chapter 18 lead straight into this chapter.

Things might have turned out very differently if Jord had never interrupted the Lamen kiss on the battlements. In chapter 17, Laurent is calm and in a good mood after their victory. He accepts that he wants Damen and is willing to let himself have him, even just for one night. In chapter 17, every time Damen and Laurent speak, it’s as if they are in their own intimate bubble, everything around them is just a hazy blur, like time is on pause. The next morning they would have to face reality but just for one night they can forget it all and have each other.

Instead things take a big turn in chapter 18 and we now have Laurent in a foul mood. Old wounds have been reopened. While he is left alone, he has time to think. He is reminded of the abuse from his uncle and his brother’s death. The person he has come to trust and love is his brother’s killer. With all of that comes a mix of feelings. In his current situation, any wrong move could cost Laurent everything. The Regent plots against him, always seeming one step ahead. The pressure is on. He is no longer distracted by their earlier victory. Things feel very real again. When Damen and Laurent finally do sleep together, it’s not with the mood of chapter 17, it’s after a harsh reminder of pain and everything else that is at stake.

So with that in mind, here is the chapter 18 summary:

Damen is angry. He orders the section clear (again).

‘Are there orders for what should be done with the prisoners?

Throw Aimeric off the battlements. (XD) ‘Keep him confined in his rooms.’

‘Yes Captain.’

‘I want this whole section kept clear. And Guymar?’

‘Yes, Captain?’

‘This time, I want it actually kept clear. (I Love Damen’s Sass! XD) I don’t care who is about to get molested. No one is to come here. Is that understood?’...

He wanted to make a barrier that protected Laurent from anyone who would intrude on him. He’d keep that perimeter clear, if it meant stalking these battlements and patrolling it himself.

He knew this about Laurent. That once he gave himself time alone to think, the control returned, reason won out.

On Damen’s way out, he asks one of the guards to ‘Watch over the Prince,’ saying ‘Anything he needs, make certain he has it. Take care of him.’ and ‘He deserves your loyalty.’

Damen finally goes to ‘his’ room. He drains a cup of wine, unpins his Captain's badge, looks out the window and thinks.

...

Laurent enters the room. Damen realises who’s room he is standing in. Laurent steps forward.

...

Laurent said, ‘I know you’re planning to leave tomorrow. You’re going to cross the border, and you’re not going to come back. Say it.’

‘I-’

‘Say it.’

‘I’m going to leave tomorrow,’ said Damen, as steadily as he could. ‘I’m not going to come back.’ He drew in a breath that hurt his chest. ‘Laurent-’

‘No, I don’t care. Tomorrow you leave. But you’re mine now. You’re still my slave tonight.’ (Laurent probably thinks, if he can just have this for one night and have it over with, hopefully the feelings will go away and he can return to ‘normal’ afterwards.)

Laurent pushes Damen onto the bed.

‘I-don’t-’

‘I think you do,’ said Laurent

Laurent starts to undress Damen.

‘What are you doing?’ Damen’s breath was shaky.

‘What am I doing? You are not very observant.’

‘You’re not yourself,’ said Damen. ‘And even if you were, you don’t do anything without a dozen motives.’

Laurent went very still, the soft words half bitter. ‘Don’t I? I must want something.’ (I wonder if Laurent gets sick of people making assumptions about his character. Probably. He was clearly irritated by something Damen said. Perhaps because this is the one time he has no motivation. He is with Damen purely because he wants to be. In fact I’m sure he’d rather he didn't want Damen at all but he couldn’t help himself.)

‘Laurent, he said.

‘You take liberties,’ said Laurent. ‘I never gave you permission to call me by my name.’

‘Your Highness,’ said Damen, and the words twisted, wrong in his mouth. (I’d just like to mention that Pacat once said she likes the idea of Damen calling Laurent ,‘Your Highness’, in bed XD) He needed to say, Don’t do this. But he couldn’t think past Laurent, improbably close. (I think Damen is in disbelief but also torn. He wants this so badly but wonders if this is what Laurent really wants, and if he’s in the right mood to be making this decision) ... 

‘I don’t think you want me. I think you just want me to feel this.’

‘Then, feel it,’ said Laurent.

Laurent continues to undress Damen, unlacing his trousers.

‘I see you are everywhere in proportion.’ XD

Laurent proceeds to give Damen a hand job.

The grip felt more like ownership than a caress...

The rise and fall of Laurent’s hand was like the slide of Laurent’s words, like every frustrating argument that they’d ever had, stymied, tangled up in Laurent’s voice. He could feel the tension in Laurent, sharp like the feel of his own heartbeats. Laurent held his former mood within him, constrained, and converted into something else.

...

Laurent said, ‘Adequate.’ XD 

One of my favourite things about this chapter, is how it didn't quite go the way I thought it would. We all knew Damen and Laurent would eventually sleep together, but I didn’t think it would be like this. The start isn’t so much of a surprise. Laurent’s mood from chapter 18 carries on into this one. I expected angst, and we got some. 

But this is when it changes. It’s slow and tender and full of emotion. We see Laurent’s vulnerabilities and hesitation. This is why I love it so much. It’s not just sex for the sake of sex. Fine, yes, we get all the juicy details (and I’m certainly not complaining about that 😏) you would expect to find in a smut chapter, BUT, it’s so much more than than that. There is actual character and relationship development. It is the most open and honest the two have been with each other so far. It was the moment we were all waiting for and it did not disappoint.

Damen said, ‘Kiss me.’...

He had pushed himself up, so that his body made a curve, the planes of his abdomen shifting. Laurent’s gaze splayed out instinctively over him (Laurent be checking him out like 👀), then lifted to his own...

He could feel the desperate urge for retreat. He could feel something else too, Laurent keeping himself apart, as though, this act being finished, he had no template for what to do.

With Laurent finished (or rather, Damen finished XD), it releases some of the tension from earlier and Laurent’s bad mood seems to have disappeared. He is no longer acting on impulse driven by mixed emotions. He can’t hide behind anger any longer. He is forced to experience it all and confront his own feelings with his guard lowered.

‘Kiss me,’ he said again.

They kiss. Then Damen draws back and kisses Laurent on the neck.

It was not what Laurent had expected. He felt the slight shock of Laurent’s surprise, and the way Laurent held himself, as though confused as to why Damen wished to do this (poor boy is affection starved 😭)

They kiss again deeply.

Damen starts to undress Laurent. 

He thought of the servant he had seen attending Laurent earlier, how much he had disliked it. (Jealous boi 😛)

Damen removes Laurent’s jacket and shirt. He sees that Laurent is aroused.

Laurent said, ‘Did you think I was made of stone?’

He couldn’t stop the rush of pleasure he felt at that, said, ‘Nothing you don’t want.’

‘You think I don’t want it?’

...

Laurent pushes Damen back with his boot, and Damen removes it. 

They kiss again and Damen starts unlacing Laurent’s trousers, removing them.

Damen gives Laurent head.

For all his seeming experience, Laurent reacted like an innocent to this pleasure. He let out a soft shocked sound...

.... Laurent’s slight, helpless shifts and pushes, the quality of his surprise, and the hard act of repression that followed, as Laurent tried to even out his breathing...

Damen could feel Laurent’s cycle of reaction and repression beneath him, as impetus gathered, building in the lines of Laurent’s body.

And felt it stymied. As rhythm built, Laurent’s body locked down, his responses repressed... Laurent, out on the shattered edge of pleasure, was holding himself back from climax by sheer force of his impossible will...

After a long moment Laurent said, with painful honesty, ‘I... find it difficult to let go of control.’

‘No kidding,’ said Damen XD

...

The words fell into a stillness between them. Laurent’s breathing was shallow, and his cheeks were flushed as he closed his eyes, as though he wanted to block out the world. (He desperately wants to forget all his conflicting thoughts so he can just feel and experience this moment.)

‘I want,’ said Laurent, ‘I want it to be simple.’

‘Turn over,’ said Damen...

Laurent closed his eyes again, as if in decision. Then he acted.

Laurent turns over onto his front. (Damen is not prepared and dies slightly from shock.)

He felt nervous suddenly, green, as he hadn’t felt since he was thirteen - uncertain of what lay on the other side of this moment, and wanting to be worthy of it.

Damen mentions how tense Laurent seems. He turns Laurent over again to face him.

‘... a desperate irritation that overlay something else... For all his bizarre nervy tension, Laurent was indisputably eager, physically...

‘Contrary, aren’t you,’ said Damen softly, thumbing over Laurent’s cheek.

‘Fuck me,’ said Laurent.

‘I want to,’ said Damen. ‘Can you let me?’...

The idea of being fucked very clearly had Laurent out of his mind, as desire competed with some sort of convoluted mental objection that really needed, Damen thought, to be dispensed with...

DAMEN!!! How do you not know?!!! How have you not picked up on what could be wrong?! gaaahhh! ... *sigh* BUT I will put my frustrations for oblivious Damen aside. Pacat does mention she felt it had to be that way, that Damen shouldn’t know.

‘I am letting you,’ said Laurent, the terse words pushing out. ‘Will you get on with it?’...

In Laurent’s eyes, impatience and tension overlay something unexpectedly young and vulnerable. Damen’s heart felt exposed, outside of his chest.

...

A wild vial appears.

He could look nowhere but at Laurent, both of them here with nothing between them, and Laurent allowing it...

It was intensely private...

The reality of it was different; Laurent was different. Damen had never thought it could be like this, soft and quiet and acutely personal.

...

Let the sex commence!

...

You’re mine, he wanted to say, and couldn’t. Laurent didn’t belong to him; this was something he could have only once. (*sniff* cri! 😢) ...

To get what you want, you have to know exactly how much you are willing to give up. (*sobbing* 😭)

Never had he wanted something this badly, and held it in his hands knowing that tomorrow it would be gone, traded for the high cliffs of Ios, and the uncertain future across the border, the chance to stand before his brother, to ask him for all the answers that no longer seemed so important. A kingdom, or this. (*ugly crying* 😩 *balling eyes out* 😭😭)

...

Climax. End.

[wafflewarriors]

The Not-So French Mistake

Chapter 2: Reluctant Researching

Castiel awoke drowsily, his back and legs cramped from his contortion against the wall, a blanket draped over him. His thoughts were slow, and he recognized Dean’s shape, which had deflated into a dormant state in the desk chair while the sun was peeking over the horizon steadily.

The girl, who was splayed along the couch, stirred beside Castiel, who was currently accompanying the floor. Her stable, slow breaths vivified, and she awoke with a gruff sigh. “Hm?” she murmured hoarsely, lethargy still weighing her words. Once again, she didn’t recognize her surroundings, and panic snapped away her drowsiness.

She fumbled to sit up, backing into the armrest of the couch. In a blind scramble to search for a weapon, she snatched a loaded gun off the coffee table that had been deserted casually after a past hunt. She clicked the safety off with professional haste and aimed the barrel at the nose of the man before her.

Castiel froze, a moment of doubt sifting through his bloodstream. Typically, he would not waver when faced with a pistol, but he had to consider his predicament cautiously. While his grace still lingered within him, his powers were dwindling. Primal instincts such as hunger and sleep were solid proof of his increasing humanity. Castiel hesitated because he wasn’t certain that the bullet wound would ever heal with his lacking angel abilities.

Some instinct within him, likely more human than angel, urged him to suffer to a terror deep in his gut as the pistol aimed at him. Perhaps Jimmy Novak was steering such a response.

Her hand trembled as it gripped the gun.. Just one tremor and his vessel’s brain could splatter the wallpaper. He would rather Jimmy not endure such. If he would ever persuade the weapon’s parting, she would need to be calm.

Intentionally slow, he raised his hands. “It isn’t what it looks like,” he insisted kindly. He wished Dean would waken already. Why, of all times, must he sleep now?

She squinted and trembled less, anger washing over her. “Really?” she challenged, “Because it looks like I’ve been kidnapped―twice now!” Fury twisted her features now she held the upper hand. “Somebody better offer answers! Where am I?”

Dean had risen from his brief sleep, escaping even the notice of Cas. “A place you do not belong, trust me.“.

She observed the hunter sternly, rage voicing her actions. He was built like a soldier but dressed in leathery materials. His worn jacket was a simple brown, along with boot-leg denim jeans, and logger boots. The ancient necklace dangling to his collarbone rocked against his black button-up.

“Everyone keeps saying that,” she hissed sourly, “and it’s ticking me off.” The gun pressed against the cartilage of Castiel’s nose, firmly held.

“Okay, okay.” Dean acceded, glancing toward the stairs and doors to check for any thing that might send her into a spontaneous round of shooting. Finding none, he gave her what she wanted: the truth. “Angels abducted you,” he responded outright, smugly awaiting her response.

She dug the barrel of the pistol into Castiel’s cheek and said, “And? You think I haven’t gathered that?”

Castiel, having finally controlled his fragile humane responses to threat (specifically reigning Jimmy), was now curious. “How is it obvious?”

She shot a skeptical gaze to the angel. “Your wings… they’re kind of difficult to ignore.” She gestured with her free arm to his sides. “The other brutes who manhandled me also had those stupid feathered appendages, so give me one reason why I shouldn’t shoot you in the face right now.” Her voice was frigid.

“My wings?” Castiel wondered aloud, “You can see them?”

Dean laughed, “Wait, wait, you actually have wings?” He inspected the angel’s shoulders from where he stood, expecting to see feathers. “How can she see them?”

At the sudden movement, the girl balked, “I will shoot him.” Not an ounce of humor laced her tone or expression.

He shrugged it off. “Ain’t going to do a thing, sweetheart. Not a scratch.”

“Would you like me to test the theory?”

“If it makes you feel better.” Dean said, jutting his chin. He was clearly confident in the angel’s abilities.

Castiel, however, was not so confident. “Dean,” he berated. “That is not wise. My grace is withering as we speak. A bullet will render me useless. I suggest we present her with information.” Despite the steady advice, the silent plea rang like a church bell.

Deflated, Dean sighed. “Right, okay, but can you at least lower the gun? It’s stressing him out.”

She agreed, and allowed the weapon to rest on her leg, hand tense and prepared. “Now, what is going on and where am I?”

Dean worried his lip, knowing the answer to the question was flat-out batty to regular civilians. “At least give us your name. ‘The girl’ has become popular, but I’m assuming you wouldn’t be too fond of that nickname.”

“Sydney. Quit stalling.”

Dean lifted his hands in surrender. “If you say so, cupcake.” He sat back into his seat while his fingernails secretly etched into the wood. “You’re in another dimension. Some angels swapped you into our reality. For whatever reason, we don’t know. We rescued you. Whatever plans they had for you, they probably weren’t legal. Not that angels care about legal.” He gestured to the clutter and stacks of books around them. “We’re researching dimensional travel, okay? Castiel here could transport you back, but he says he’s drained. And apparently, it’s nearly impossible otherwise.”

She halted any further movement, recognition flaring within her eyes. “No,” she denied. “No, this is―no.”

Castiel and Dean eyed her in mild concern.

She laughed half-heartedly, “I knew this seemed too familiar, but…. you’re Dean and Castiel, aren’t you?” After a pause, she cussed under her breath. Their silence had answered her inquiry. “Jesus. And Sam’s outside?”

Dean nodded warily, “How―”

She suddenly felt dizzy. “Because I have a friend who watches this, um, television show? It’ called Supernatural. You’re the Winchesters. God, this show has no freaking fourth wall,” she said, her hands meeting her temples to calm her racing mind.

“Oh, great,” Dean cheered sarcastically. “Another universe where our lives are just another television show. Always fond of those. Tell me something: why on earth would people enjoy watching our lives?”

She laughed at the sheer stupidity of her situation. “Because you guys are heroes! You’ve had your rough spots and sore years, but no matter how many trials and obstacles block your way, you push on. It’s inspiring, and a bit depressing, if you ask me.” Sydney shook her head in disbelief. “You’re popular where I’m from, if it helps anything. You’re a worldwide-famous kind of deal. My friend, Iris, is obsessed with you two.”

Worldwide, huh? Dean sported a pained expression. “Well, if you know who we are, then you know we’re here to help.”

She nodded thoughtfully, the gun in her hand slackening as her grip loosened. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess.” She clicked the safety back into place and set the weapon onto the coffee table in front of her. Slumping into the couch, she assessed her fate. “Oh my god, I just threatened you guys with a gun. I just threatened Dean Winchester with a gun. I’m so screwed,” she squeaked. The butterflies in the pit of her stomach panicked as excitement and fear battled within her.

Dean fidgeted. “You’re fine. No harm done. We get it a lot, actually.” Being addressed as something of a celebrity was as awkward as it was foreign. The most famous he’d ever been was Most Wanted in America, and even that was a stretch, being legally dead, and all.

The front door creaked open and in trudged the groggy moose himself: Sam Winchester. His clothes were wrinkled from curling into the car seats and tossing restlessly. Along with that, the bruises under his eyes had faded into a pale grey.

Sydney observed his status: hair length told her she was dealing with sometime around Season 8, and his plaid button-up was sagging from the boiling temperatures outside the air-conditioned walls. “The car is like an oven today. It nearly baked me alive,” he complained, rolling up his sleeves to cool himself. Meeting the eyes of Sydney, he lit up, “You’re awake.”

“Impeccable timing, as television goes,” Sydney commented tersely. Her attitude was peckish and cheeky while her body language read bitter. Overall, it was a crappy demeanor.

“What?” Sam’s eyebrows crept up to his hairline as he attempted to soak in the criticism so early in the morning. Especially out of the person they saved yesterday. Gratitude was difficult to come by these days. “What’s she talking about?”

She studied Sam oddly, “You’re fake. You gotta be. That’s my conclusion. This is all too freaking specific and creepy.”

Dean had had enough. He retorted indignantly, “From my perspective, you’re the fake one. I’ve spent a majority of my life learning what is real, and this world is definitely one.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t take advice from a fictional character,” she said hotly.

Sam could see this argument was heading on a dangerous path, so he briskly intervened, his tone clipped, “If you would be rational, you would realize you’re both real―because you can physically see each other.”

Castiel agreed. “Sam’s right: an argument over this is not productive. You’re just unaware of each other’s existence, considering the wall separating your realities. ”

They were ganging up on her. Sydney snapped toward the angel, “I’m still not convinced that this isn’t a dream… or nightmare, for that matter.” She paused, “Why am I dreaming about you now?”

This was nightmare-worthy. Three very intimidating men had her surrounded in an unfamiliar house, and were arguing heatedly over whether they were a figment of her own imagination. Also, this could definitely be considered kidnapping. The only things that were keeping her compliant were their faultless references to Supernatural and their apparent copy-paste faces that matched their description and behavior down to the freckles.

“Who’s to say anything isn’t a dream?” Sam was now suggesting, which was enough to hold her tongue for the moment.

“Besides,” Dean countered, “a dream this vivid would be the work of angels. So either way, angels are meddling with your cantaloupe, kid.” Dean quipped, tipping the empty glass on the table in a search for alcohol. The dry bottom disappointed him. He stood, prepared to scavenge the fridge, but an arm blocked his path. An inevitable foe: the determined moose.

“We need you sober, Dean. Don’t think I didn’t notice the empty bottles in the kitchen.” Sam advised, squandering any of Dean’s future intentions.

Dean felt attacked; was he that predictable? “But―” He dared to argue. Seeing Sam’s persistence, he obliged. “All right, okay.”

Sydney crossed her arms in obstinance. “Prove it. Prove this isn’t a dream.”

Dean appeared agitated by the ridiculous demand. He said, “And how are we supposed to that? We can’t just―”

“Actually you can,” Sam interrupted with a barely tolerable amount of excitement. One of these days, Dean would need to exit the room after practically smelling the amount of dork that radiated off of his brother. “It’s impossible to read numbers or words when you’re dreaming. It’ll resemble scribbles and babble because your brain doesn’t process them into REM sleep. So if we have to prove our authenticity, check and help us research while you’re at it.” He nodded keenly, a sly glint in his eyes. He had won.

She glared, aware she had been outwitted. “Fine,” she bit out venomously. She swiveled toward the unending stack of books littering the living room and plucked an unsuspecting hardcover. Once freeing its stiff pages, her jaw clenched in silent disbelief to her discovery.

Dean lifted an eyebrow and concluded his next actions would be to check up on his Baby, and not make friends with more booze, in heed to Sam’s wishes.

Sam trailed along.. “She sure is something,” he finally said after the recent aggressive standoff.

“A tiger,” Dean agreed.

The sun channeled down to the earth with one sweeping, broiling gaze; anything in its view was showered in waves of heat. Pine trees withered, leaves shriveled, and life wilted. The sun’s torrid touch sent ripples into the air as another summer day sprang into a heat spell. Dean found the feverish weather unnatural in the fall months, but August had recently withdrawn, so nobody paid mind. It was just ‘mother nature doing her thing’.

Something told Dean that the sun’s slow ability to rise automatically equaled a long, tiresome day. He wasn’t ready for it, or anything for that matter, but he was bracing himself for the inevitable.

He patted the Impala fondly, which had cooked to a temperature nearly that of a hot stove, and admired his car’s brilliance in the rays of the amber morning sun. The hood was gleaming, the windows were glossy, and the bumper glittered in a metallic luster. He had been tempted to kiss her if she hadn’t been scalding hot. His Baby was gorgeous.

Sam, amused by Dean’s worship over his vehicle, smiled faintly. That car had seen the worst and the best of times since the day they were born. No matter what wreck got into, Dean would fix her right up to the childhood imperfections and all. Dean was adamant about leaving each flaw and fault in the car from their youth to preserve its personality. What would the Impala be without the army man that Sam crammed into the ashtray or Legos that Dean shoved into the vents? 

“Even when Dean rebuilt her from the ground up, he made sure all these little things stayed, ‘cause it’s the blemishes that make her beautiful.” ~Chuck Shurley

That car had been around longer than anyone ever involved in their twisted lifestyles.

Sam recalled the days when wide, toothy grins and trivial pranks had been common practice. Back then, their ambition of the family business had been guided by positive energy and hadn’t yet weighed on them like a clingy burden. Hunting hadn’t been a chore: it had been a personal commitment. They had saved people because they knew of the lurking evil and how to defend against them. They helped because they could and it was right.

Of course, their reason for hunting still existed, but back then it had been simpler. Dig the grave, salt, burn; find the monster, how to kill it, and go through with that plan. There were no complicated angel issues, no Leviathans, and they had been spared the constant deaths. Now, it was their job and duty to save the world at any moment’s notice, which seemed outright wrong for anyone to have forced upon them. Even the undefeated Winchesters.

Fortunately, no matter how much crap they endured, the Impala remained intact. And within all the memories stuffed and crammed into Sam’s worn mind, their car was always present.

Sam gave the Impala a little pat of his own, compelled to acknowledge the vehicle’s constant stability throughout his life, whether or not it was just a car. He owed it that.

Dean was almost antsy as he sat on the polished hood. “Sam, something ain’t right with that girl.” His thumb absentmindedly rubbed at the metal, smudging it with a line of oily fingerprints and then yanking his hand away as the roasting metal met his skin. Dean had done so twice now, which told Sam that something was unquestionably at the forefront of his brother’s thoughts.

Sam took a special interest in the claim, weighing what had riled him. “What makes you say that?” He had noticed nothing suspicious about her, just that she was as feisty as they got.

“She can see his wings, Sammy.” he said, licking his lips and lowering his voice to an urgent whisper. “Castiel’s. ”

Intrigued, Sam pinched his lips, and a crease appeared between his eyebrows. “Cas has wings?” He tried to visualize the concept, but the notion of invisible feathers adorning Castiel’s backside sounded bizarre.

“I know, that’s what I said!” Dean exclaimed animatedly at the relation. “I didn’t even know he had wings. I thought that was just a metaphor for his mojo or something.” He itched for a drink. “I’m telling you, something about this is bad news.”

“Alright.” Sam believed him. After all the hardship they had coped, he knew that when Dean had an intuition, it was usually correct. “But, what’s got you like this though? We deal with this stuff all the time.”

Dean shrugged, his shoulders rigid. “I don’t know. But it’s not settling in my gut right. I mean, with angels involved and a separate dimension, this could be anything,” he said, his point becoming clearer. Angels, in their book, were commonly associated with chaos. Apocalypse, Lucifer, Leviathans… you couldn’t blame the hunters for suspecting another round of mayhem they would be enforced to patch up for the ignorant celestial beings.

“You’re right,” Sam admitted. “So… I guess we do what we’ve always done, then. Find out what we’re dealing with and do what we have to.”

They understood.

[krumbine]

Videorama: Revenge of the Nooooo!

The year is 2005.

George W. Bush is just starting his second term in the White House.

The hottest game in cell phone technology is the Motorola Razr V3 and the PalmOne Treo 650.

The iPhone is still a few years away.

The Rise of Skywalker isn’t even a twinkle in Disney’s eye––an eye that’s currently preoccupied with an overly optimistic Narnia Franchise Wet Dream.

In fact, Disney wouldn’t even buy Star Wars for another seven years.

It’s summer in 2005 and millions of marketing dollars can still pull the wool over the eyes of a naive movie-going public, dictating box office success regardless of audience consensus or even general quality of filmmaking.

All hail the grand illusion of capitalism.

It’s a warm evening in the summer of 2005 and video rental stores are still a thing.

One particular, independently-run store––freestanding, double glass doors on the left side of the brick facade, small parking lot––was just turning its sign on as dusk settled.

Videorama was open for business.

*

Tobey blinked incredulously at the three teenagers standing on the other side of the counter. His brain hurt as he attempted to summon the endurance needed to fathom the sheer stupidity of their question.

To buy himself some time, Tobey blinked again.

“… well?” asked the one with the long greasy hair. “Do you have it?”

There was no way these kids were serious.

Tobey shook his head in disbelief. “You’re not serious.”

The one with a bad case of acne threw his hands up in exasperation. “Dude, for fuck’s sake!”

Tobey looked over at the other man behind the video store counter, feet up, sketch pad in lap. “I think these guys are serious.”

The third teenager was pale and wore a lot of heavy black eyeliner. He spoke in a flat monotone: “Catwoman. Do you have it or not?”

Tobey broke into a lopsided grin. “Oh, I get it. This is like a prank, right? Where’s the hidden camera?” Tobey propped his elbows on the counter and leaned forward. “Am I gonna be on the internet?!”

Long Hair was reaching his limit. “C’mon, man, we just wanna rent the movie.”

Tobey’s grin dropped. “No joke?”

“Dude.”

“Catwoman?”

They were practically pleading. “Do you have it or not?”

Tobey stood back, somber. This was worse than he thought. “Holy fucking shit.” He turned again to the other guy behind the counter. “Kurt, these guys are actually serious.”

Kurt didn’t look up from his sketch pad. “Hm.”

Zits backhanded Long Hair’s chest. “This is ridiculous, man.  Let’s get outta here.”

Almost through this, Tobe.

Eyeliner started for the exit. “Fuck these asswipes.”

Fuck me.

“Alright, you fucking hormone-addled, gene-pool rejects. Listen.” Tobey leaned forward. “I can appreciate the fact that the three of you otherwise fine young gentlemen are undoubtedly blinded by your adolescent throes of puberty––to saying nothing of the ungodly amount of jizz sprayed in your eyes from the nonstop circle jerk that is your formative years––so it stands to reason that the mere notion of Halle Berry sporting a whip and a leather catsuit is enough to make you pop your collective nut––which, again, I do understand. Halle Berry is a fine specimen of the female gender and I myself have spent many a lonely night pondering Ms. Berry’s lithe and supple … skills.”

Tobey lost himself for a moment and the three teenagers stared at him in confusion. Tobey nodded absently and then returned to the conversation.

“Fellas,” he implored. “All that being said, you cannot tell me that simple, unabashed horniness is just cause for what will amount to the severe rapage of your individual minds––a tragic and unavoidable fate that you will all most assuredly fall victim to should you proceed to rent the motion picture that is Catwoman.”

To buy themselves a moment to process Tobey’s rant, the three teenagers blinked at him.

“… yes?” Zits said, lacking any sense of surety of himself.

Tobey sighed. Definitely worse than he thought. With a sad shake of his head: “Look, let me make a suggestion. Go with Monster’s Ball instead. It’s got our girl in it, bare titties and all. Lots of sex plus it’s a flick that won’t rot your brain. It’s a goddamned win-win for everybody. Especially you.”

Tobey pointed at Eyeliner before changing his mind. “Well, maybe not everybody.”

Eyeliner’s face was as a neutral as his voice. “Isn’t she fucking Billy Bob Thornton in that one?”

“So?”

Zits scowled. “Dude, that is so fucking nasty! He’s all old and wrinkly and shit.”

Tobey wanted to ram an ice pick in his own ear. “What the actual fuck, my man? We've already established that you're watching the flick for Halle Berry's tits, not Billy Bob's ball sack! What the fuck do you care what he looks like?!”

“We don’t!” Long Hair cried. “We just care about Catwoman!”

Tobey threw his hands in the air. There was no reasoning with these kids. “Okay, fine. I see how it is. Get out.”

Incredulous offense from Zits. “What?!”

Ineffable deadpan from Eyeliner. “You’re throwing us out?”

“No. Right now I’m asking you to leave in a gentle yet firm manner, as to assert a polite yet authoritative dominance over this conversation,” Tobey said. “In about twenty seconds I’ll be throwing you out.”

“We just want to rent a movie!” Zits said through gritted teeth and mounting frustration.

“Incorrect,” Tobey responded, raising an index finger. “You want to rent shit. There is a difference, although I can see that the lack of immediate release has caused the cum to bubble up and disorient your brain cells, inhibiting logical cognition. Regardless, I don’t even carry Catwoman since I have a very strict policy on stocking crappy movies.”

Long Hair tilted his head, waiting. “What’s your policy on stocking crappy movies?”

Eyeliner with the deadpan punchline: “He doesn’t.”

“––I don’t,” Tobey said at the same time. He shot Eyeliner an exasperated glare. “C’mon, dude!”

Eyeliner shrugged a shoulder.

Tobey leaned forward. “Now why don’t you three numb-nuts find yourselves a tittie mag, have a circle jerk, and just be done with it already, okay?”

Eyeliner scoffed indifferently. “This is bullshit. Let’s bounce, boys.”

Tobey nodded. “That’s right. But be sure to use plenty of lube. Too much bouncing chafes the shaft.”

Zits lunged across the counter but Long Hair pulled him back. “Fuck you, asshole.”

Tobey glanced down and flipped a page in his Indie Film magazine. “Mm. Clever.”

Zits straightened. He had one card left to play and he was entirely too confident in the move. “Hey. I wanna speak to the manager. Dick.”

Tobey looked up from his magazine. “I am the manager, you dipshit. Now get the hell out of my store before I call the fucking cops and have them throw you out.”

The three teenagers exchanged looks before stumbling to the exit, muttering various expletives under their breaths as they went.

“Yeah, I heard all of that!” Tobey called after them as the bell on the door jingled.

“You handled that well,” Kurt said from behind Tobey.

“You could have jumped in at any time there, buddy.”

“Seemed like you had it handled,” Kurt shrugged.

A young woman stepped up to the counter. Straight blonde hair to her shoulders and curves that Tobey drank in an instant glance, imperceptible the casual observer.

She perceived it. She always did.

“He didn’t have it handled,” the young woman said flatly, placing three DVDs and a member card on the counter.

“I had it handled,” Tobey insisted while he scanned her card. “Sure, I could have used some backup from behind the counter but that’s not to dismiss the overall nature of the situation behind, generally, handled.”

Kurt set his sketch pad aside and fiddled with a television set on the counter. A low-quality video continued playing––it looked like someone had used a cheap video camera to record a movie theater screen.

The girl’s eyebrow went up. “Is that Star Wars?”

Tobey didn’t look. He didn’t have to since they’d been watching the bootleg on a loop for three days. “Yep.”

“The new one?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That just came out in theaters?”

Tobey looked up from scanning the DVDs. “Wow. You’re a regular Veronica Mars. Can’t slip anything past you.”

She all but rolled her eyes and he decided to dial back the sarcasm.

“Yes, Kurt downloaded it a few days ago,” Tobey explained. “I mean, yeah, I paid to see the first two prequels but there was no way in hell I was gonna be stupid enough to let George Fucking Lucas screw me out of another eight bucks for yet another pile of shit he so fondly refers to as epic Star Wars lore.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“It fucking should be.”

“I meant the downloading.”

Tobey held up the three DVDs. “I’m sorry, did you want to rent these movies—” he glanced at the computer screen, “––Alyssa Tanner of 9000 East Westmore Drive, apartment 263? Or is harassing me over my moral obligation to protest the misguided artistic values of a corrupt media empire entertainment enough for you?”

Kurt shot a sideways glance and muttered: “Misguided artistic values?!”

Alyssa shrugged indifferently. “I just thought that in light of your current career path, you might have a better appreciation for the damage caused by downloading movies illegally.”

Kurt put his feet back up on the counter as he turned his attention back to the sketch pad. “Here we go …”

“The damage I cause?!” The mock in Tobey’s outrage was mild at best. “What about the damage George Lucas caused with these blatant cash grabs? Have you seen all the advertisements for this one? He’s spending millions of dollars convincing the world that it’s the greatest film ever!”

“And you’re saying it’s not?”

“If it’s possible, this one is even worse than the last two combined,” Tobey said gravely.

“Dude,” Kurt said, pointing at the television. “It’s the Vader scene.”

Tobey’s hands went up. “Perfect!” To Alyssa: “This is what I’m talking about. This shit is fucking hilarious.”

Alyssa looked at the television as the bootleg copy of Revenge of the Sith played. Darth Vader found out that he killed his girlfriend, clomped around like Frankenstein and then cried out, ‘Nooooo!’

Tobey clicked the television off.

“The only good thing about this movie is that it’s so bad it’s funny,” he said. “We’ve been watching it for days and that Vader scene just keeps getting funnier.”

“You don’t think Lucas deserves a little credit for closing the loop on A New Hope?”

“Does Adolf Hitler deserve credit for closing the loop on World War II?”

“First of all, Hitler lost—”

“Which effectively closed the loop—”

“—and secondly, you’re comparing a movie to a war that literally killed tens of millions of people?!” Alyssa balked.

“I’m comparing three movies to a war that killed tens of millions––”

“Dude!” Kurt cut in.

Tobey sighed. “Fine. Okay. Maybe the prequels aren’t, like, genocide bad––”

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

“But they’re still pretty bad.”

At one point, not so long ago, Alyssa had been amused and slightly intrigued by Tobey’s acerbic banter.

That moment had passed.

An awkward silence clung to the air inside the video store. Alyssa glanced at the exit. Kurt’s pencil scratched at his sketch pad.

Tobey held up Alyssa’s rentals. “… you want your movies?”

She took them from Tobey. “Yeah. Thanks.”

She turned for the door and then stopped. “Um …”

“Three day rentals. Due back on Thursday.”

Alyssa turned back to the counter. She grimaced. “Actually, uh, that bootleg—”

Tobey held up a hand. “Wait. Are you saying—”

Alyssa shrugged half-heartedly.

“You wanna borrow my illegally downloaded copy of Revenge of the Sith?”

“I mean, if it’s so bad, you wouldn’t mind letting go of it for a few days,” Alyssa suggested. “Right?”

Tobey studied her grey eyes. There was something about this girl. He chewed his lip, thinking.

“Well?”

Tobey nodded slowly. “Okay, uh, lemme think of a creative way of saying this …” Tobey rubbed his chin and then raised an index finger to the sky. “Oh, I know!”

Tobey threw his hands in the air. “Nooooo!”

*

A VHS rewinder ground on old tape and Kurt cursed as he mashed the eject button, popping the machine open.

“Goddammit,” Kurt seethed. “Why the hell are we still stocking VHS?”

“Same reason we don’t open until four in the afternoon,” Tobey replied as he gathered an armful of DVDs to re-shelve.

“Because you’re too lazy to wake up in the morning?”

“No, because despite appearances, we’re here to serve our customers, Kurt,” Tobey said, strolling the aisles. “Working class Americans. The nine-to-fivers. People rent videos on their way home from work.” Tobey placed a DVD on the shelf. “Or in the middle of the night. There’s been studies. Or something.”

Kurt finished untangling the botched tape and tossed it into the trash. “So what you’re saying is that you’ve got a firm grasp on psychological makeup of our clientele.”

“I’m a savante that way.”

“An idiot savante, sure,” Kurt said with an eye roll.

Tobey placed another DVD. “People mock what they don’t understand.”

“So what about that girl, Alyssa?”

“Pretty sure nobody mocks her,” Tobey replied, scanning a shelf. “Fear her, maybe. Beauty is intimidating. Intelligence doubly so. Beauty and intelligence—”

“I meant her psychological makeup.”

Tobey shrugged absently. “If it’s anything like her physical makeup—”

Kurt sighed. “I mean: why does she come in so often? She was just here yesterday.”

Tobey glanced over at his long-time friend. “She had a two-day rental, Kurt,” he said flatly.

“And that explains why she was here for the past five days in a row, how exactly?” Kurt asked patiently.

Tobey pondered this half-heartedly. “She likes movies?”

Kurt went back to his sketch pad. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m an idiot with a stalker, according to you,” Tobey said, shelving the last DVD and returning to his spot behind the counter.

“She’s not a stalker. She’s a nice girl.”

Naughty thoughts ran through Tobey’s head and his eyes went wide. “I bet she is.”

Kurt put his pencil down. “You know, people might actually like you if you weren’t so sarcastic all the time.”

“What are you talking about? People like me. You’re the one who pointed out that I have a stalker,” Tobey said. “Plus, you’re a person, too. You like me.”

Kurt tilted his hand back and forth. “Eh.”

Tobey shrugged indifferently. “Friends come and go. Porn is forever.”

“That sixty-inch TV in your bedroom working out well for you?”

Tobey turned and leaned against the counter, facing Kurt. “I watch it as I fall asleep so that I have pleasant dreams. Of vaginas.” Tobey spread his hands an arms-length apart. “Ten feet wide.”

“So what you’re saying is that the addition of the big-screen pornocopia has obviated any pressing need to actually be liked by the fairer sex?”

“Who needs to be liked when you have a stalker? Plus, there’s always Horatio.”

Kurt blinked. “Who the hell is Horatio?”

Tobey held up his left hand. “We have a very intimate relationship. He knows how to please me in ways that most women just don’t understand. And yes, the big screen pornocopia helps.”

The bell on the door jangled.

“A vagina ten feet wide?” Kurt asked.

“Ten feet wide.”

“You call your hand Horatio?”

“You spend all day drawing superheroes with their dongs out,” Tobey said.

Kurt nodded. “Point.”

“Good to see you’re being as professional as ever.” The voice came from the other side of the counter. It sounded tired and annoyed.

Tobey frowned and didn’t bother to turn around. He grabbed his film magazine. “You know what? Fuck off, my dude. I don’t have time for your shit right now.”

The man on the other side of the counter glanced around the empty video store. “I can see that,” he said. “These late hours of yours really keep the place hopping.”

Tobey sighed and deliberately turned around to face his older brother. “Fuck you very much, Walt.”

Tobey’s brother was two years older and looked about as tired as he sounded. A dark suit with a loosened tie, coifed hair grown limp, distinct bags under his eyes.

Walt help up his hands in a show of  surrender, car keys dangling from his right fingers. “Just here to drop the car off. I’ve got a guy coming first thing in the morning to detail it. Karen’s picking me up in a few minutes.”

Walt tossed the keys to Tobey. They hit him on the chest and bounced on the counter. They stared at each other for an awkward moment.

Kurt focused intently on giving She-Hulk a very large, very veiny cock.

“Uh, last I checked, I’m not your fucking valet, Walt,” Tobey said.

Walt sighed wearily. “I’m not asking you to be—”

“Cause you just up and threw those keys like––”

“Tobey, we need to talk.”

“I really can’t see why.”

“Can we just––”

“Get the fuck out of my store, Walter,” Tobey growled from across the counter.

Walt ran a hand through his hair. “… it’s gonna be five years next month.”

Kurt glanced up and could see Tobey visibly tense, clenching his fists. He promptly looked back down.

“Yeah, so?”

“So …” Walt said slowly as he nodded. “… I want you to come visit them with me.”

Walt tried to meet Tobey’s eyes but the anger shooting across from his brother was brutal.

“… I think it’ll be good for you, Tobe,” Walt said softly.

“No.”

“Tobey––”

“I haven’t gone yet,” Tobey spat out the words. “I’m not going to go and I’m certainly not ever going to go with you.”

“Tobe––”

Tobey cut him off. “Just get the fuck out, Walt. You can wait for Karen outside.”

“I want to talk about the store.”

Tobey’s hands went up. “There it is! Jesus fucking Christ. You lasted all of two minutes that time, Walter. When are you gonna give that one up? They left it to me, cut and dry.”

Kurt decided that She-Hulk’s cock wasn’t big enough and needed to be more throbby.

Tobey shot lasers at his brother. “… you don’t have anything to do with Videorama.”

“Yeah. Okay. You’re right,” Walt conceded. “I haven’t had anything to do with the store for a long time. But that’s not how I want it to be.”

“Well boo-fucking-hoo,” Tobey spat. “It’s not like you have a lot of options since, again, they left it to me, cut and dry.”

Walt straightened his shoulders and looked up, meeting his younger brother’s icy gaze. “Tobey,” he said, “I want to buy the store.”

Tobey’s anger kept his mouth moving before the words registered. “Don’t even fucking––wait––no––what?”

Walt swallowed. “I want to buy Videorama from you.”

For once, Tobey had absolutely nothing to say.

In the silence, Kurt’s pencil slipped through his fingers and clattered to the floor.

“Oh, nooooo,” Kurt said through a quiet grimace.

###

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jordan Krumbine is a professional video editor, digital artist, and creative wizard currently quarantined in Kissimmee, Florida. When not producing content for the likes of Visit Orlando, Orlando Sentinel, or AAA National, Jordan is probably yelling at a stubbornly defective Macbook keyboard, tracking creative projects in Trello, and animating quirky videos with LEGO and other various toys.

Leave a dollar in the Tip Jar: https://ko-fi.com/krumbine

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http://www.krumbco.com

[anthropologicalhands]

ceg fic: a pattern cutting

title: a pattern cutting summary: new babies mean new routines, but also new beginnings notes: you knew this was going to happen post-finale. my feelings on rebecca/nathaniel having children are all over the place, but there are aspects of them choosing to become parents that I honestly really enjoy, and I think will be fun to explore in at least some future scenarios. blame the baby gator for the investment.

EDIT: Ao3 link here

Lately, Rebecca feels like she has discovered that her brain, far from being the organ that processes sensory information, is susceptible to earworms, and has helped her make sense of the world if not always in the most sensible of ways, in fact has more in common with a bowl of Jell-O. In particular, a hallucinating bowl of Jell-O that has been in a state of high alert ever since the squalling amalgamation of her and Nathaniel’s chromosomes was expelled from her birth canal to make her dramatic debut in the world.

She isn’t sure if that realization is a sign of enlightenment or merely a consequence of sleep-deprivation. Still, Rebecca thinks things are going all right. Two months in, Evie is only waking up a few times a night, and her and Nathaniel have settled into something almost like a routine—when she is roused for the third time that night by their daughter’s whimpers, she is already sitting up, when Nathaniel’s hand brushes her shoulder, with a weary but firm ‘I got it’. It’s not his turn, but Rebecca isn’t exactly going to object for a little more time in bed and collapses gratefully back into the pillows, willing herself to slumber.

However, even with her eyes shut she still lies awake, waiting for him to come back to bed. Evie (full name Evelyn and on hold until she is big enough for it) quiets eventually, but he still doesn’t return. Rebecca sits up and peers out into the dark of their apartment, eyes still scrunched half-closed for better focus. The lamp by the crib has been switched on in the far corner of the room, casting a soft yellow glow, and outlines where Nathaniel is stretched out on the couch. His posture is disarmingly casual—one leg drawn up, resting his head on the armrest, and the baby curled up on his chest. She’s grown exponentially since they first brought her home, but Rebecca can only marvel at how Evie still looks so tiny, cradled protectively under Nathaniel’s hands.

Idly, she thinks about how if someone had asked her when she first met him what kind of a father Nathaniel Plimpton III would be, it would not have been a kind answer.

(Granted, if they had asked her what kind of mother she would have been, it would not have been much of an improvement.)

Forgoing the appealing lure of sleep, Rebecca shuffles out of bed, past the stroller, picking her path through the toys and beyond the crib and adjacent changing table on her way over to rejoin the rest of their family unit.

Nathaniel’s focus on the baby doesn’t waver, but he shifts minutely as she approaches, automatically attuning himself to her presence.

“Isn’t the point of a night routine that we can get eight hours of sleep collectively, given that we can’t get it individually?” He murmurs, still not looking up even when she comes to stand in front of him.

“Hm, yes, but we were trying for a fifty-fifty ratio and you’re voluntarily shortchanging yourself. Is everything all right?”

“I’m fine,” says Nathaniel with a slight smile, flicking his eyes up to meet hers. He shifts a little further, adjusting his position. “I usually wait a few minutes before putting her back in the crib, otherwise she wakes up and the whole cycle just repeats itself. We might want to consider changing her blanket—I’m not convinced she likes it very much.”

Maybe it’s the hour, but Rebecca can’t help but giggle at his earnestness.

“Or, maybe, she just wants to spend time with her daddy a little longer,” she says softly.

Nathaniel ducks his head and were it not for the darkness of the room she would bet that she could see the flush across the back of his neck, running up the tips of his ears.

“I don’t think she even knows who I am yet,” he protests, embarrassed. She gets it—it still feels new, labelling themselves in this way. She still twitches when Paula teasingly calls her mama or mommy when addressing Evie. Somehow, those titles sound both too silly and too responsible at the same time, and still don’t quite fit. But the titles are also unmistakably theirs, now.

“Well, I don’t know what she thinks of me beyond being a mobile milk factory either, so we’re pretty much on the same page there.” Nathaniel raises her eyebrows at her in disbelief; she holds up her hands in mock defense. “Hey, it’s not a slight against Evie—why should she think that other beings exist outside of her? That’s asking a lot of someone whose brain is still developing.”

Nathaniel doesn’t laugh, but he does press his lips tightly together and avert his eyes in a way that makes her suspect it’s taking some effort to avoid disturbing the baby.

Their baby.

A year of planning and discussion, nine months of growing a person, eight hours of intense pain to push her out, not to mention the weeks of postpartum lochia—somehow, she still sometimes can’t entirely believe that this is their new reality.

She watches as Nathaniel absently strokes Evie’s back; his expression clouded. Sleep deprivation aside, it isn’t a familiar look.

“Nathaniel? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Hm? It’s nothing too important.” He looks down at Evie, his tone soft and even. “I was just thinking about a few things. Remember how everyone said we would understand our parents once we had kids of our own?”

“See, I only remember a bunch of strangers being weirdly personal and in my face about my choices,” says Rebecca. “I mean, sure, they meant well, but also they were completely talking out of their as—esophagus,” she hastily self-corrects, even before Nathaniel shoots her a warning look to watch her language around the baby and her highly-sensitive ears. “I said esophagus.”

“Hm, nice save.”

“I still say we’re only delaying the inevitable. We might as well get her used to my extensive vocabulary so she doesn’t waste time being scandalized later. Plus, she’ll learn so much about creative language use! Imagine the day she’s on the schoolyard and knows exactly the right words to send all the mean kids crying to the teacher. Tell me you wouldn’t love to get that phone call.”

Nathaniel lets out a disbelieving snort but concedes the point with a careless flick of his free hand. He tips his chin down to check on Evie, still sleeping peacefully despite the whispered conversation. Rebecca can see him turning over whatever point he has to make in his head, and slips down to join them on the couch, angling herself so that she can curl in to his side, absently bringing her hand up to trace Evie’s clenched fist, cooing when she shifts and reaches out to wrap Rebecca’s finger in a weak grip. Nathaniel’s free hand comes to rest on Rebecca’s shoulder—when she looks up at him his eyes are soft.

For a few moments, they let themselves stay like that, the only sound a faint rustling from the trees lining the boulevard outside the apartment as the rest of the world sleeps. Then Nathaniel exhales, and draws his hand away from her shoulder to card his fingers through his hair.

“I was just thinking that I still don’t understand my father,” he says at last, his voice quiet. “I thought I would have a better idea, after we had her. That he didn’t know how to react to the idea of having a kid, and maybe he just freaked out and funneled all of those feelings into some impossible ideal of excellence. I thought that maybe…he just didn’t know the best way to show how he felt, or something. Still a bad father but, you know, in a way that actually made sense.”

“And he doesn’t?”

Nathaniel gives a short, tight shake of his head. “Not in the least. He would never have bothered with any of this.” He gestures out at their apartment, every surface covered in toys and books and babyproofed down to the square inch. “What he did was allocate a room, passed me off to someone else and waited until I old enough to be trained for the family legacy to be worth his time.”

There is no anger in his words, only a weariness that Rebecca recognizes as something separate from their late nights.

“Sounds like something you kinda already knew,” she observes.

“Maybe.” Nathaniel looks back down at Evie. “It just didn’t used to be so obvious. What’s the point of having a kid if you don’t care from the start?”

“I don’t know,” says Rebecca honestly, thinking of Silas and then firmly brushing the thought away—it has been a long time since she’s allowed him any real estate in her mind, and she is not about to start again.

“If he felt like that, he never should have had me.”

He doesn’t sound especially self-pitying, but Rebecca feels her skin prickle uncomfortably at the thought of a world where Nathaniel never came into her life. There have been many times where she’s wished that their path together had been smoother, that they had done things differently and hurt fewer people, but it’s been years since she could imagine a life without him, and she doesn’t want to start now.

She clears her throat.

“I mean, I’m going to have to disagree with that sentiment, just on sheer principle. You should too, since this little poop machine—don’t look so scandalized, I say it with love—relies on your specific genetic mixture coming in contact with mine to exist as she currently does. Not to mention that I’d miss you. Like, not personally, because you would have never existed so I wouldn’t know what I was missing, and maybe not cosmically because there is no such thing as destiny. But I would, somehow.” A pause. “I’m sorry, that metaphor went absolutely nowhere.”

He laughs softly.

“I think I get what you’re saying. Thank you,” he adds, somehow both wry and sincere and sending warm tingles through her, even despite the exhaustion and the late hour.

Rebecca bats her eyelashes in response, provoking another reluctant smile, and props her elbow against the back of the couch, resting her chin in her hand as she watches him. She likes the way Nathaniel holds Evie, she thinks idly. Always has, even those first few times when he was nearly bent double in the chair they’d pulled up by her hospital bed, cradling Evie in the crook of his arm, his hold awkward but careful.

“If it’s any consolation,” she says eventually, “Understanding doesn’t make things that much easier. I’m still confused about how I feel about my mom these days. She used to always tell me to put myself in her shoes, and now I am, like, literally wearing the same brand, and I still don’t understand her methods.”

“But you know where she’s coming from?”

“Eh, ish. I do think I recognize what she was trying to do a little better,” Rebecca admits. “Again, I agree with basically none of her methods. I just…might have a better idea about what emotional place she was coming from. I get the desire to protect someone with everything you have.”

Nathaniel nods his agreement, absently bringing up his fingers to brush Evie’s cheek, whisper-light. “At least there’s that.”

“I guess.”

“Do you think it will help when she comes out to visit next month?”

“Oh, no. I definitely wouldn’t say that,” Rebecca grumbles, rubbing hard at her eyes. “We’ve been doing okay with boundaries, but I honestly have no idea what to expect this time. She might evoke some grandmother clause or something as an excuse to say whatever the hell she wants. She used to do the exact same thing to my dolls.”

“What?”

“Yeah—she would say I was cossetting them too much and that they would die of exposure otherwise. Who knows what she’s going to say about our parenting. She’ll say that she has a ‘just a couple of points’ and then bring out the whole machete. Like, at least your dad knows he was a sucky father and keeps his mouth shut.”

He snorts, hitching Evie up a little higher up on his chest. “My dad? Keep his mouth shut? What alternate universe have you been visiting?”

“Well, okay, you’re right, he’s still kind of bitchy—yes, language, sorry, don’t give me that look—but your mom is always lovely, so I can just tune him out.”

“I see,” says Nathaniel, smirking a little, clearly pleased at the image. “That’s good to know.”

“And I know I don’t have to take it from her, but I need to like, talk to Dr Akopian for a refresher in case she gets nasty and I need to reinforce boundaries. And it makes me so mad that I need to do that, because, as parents, you and I are definitely raising the bar compared to their methods.”

“I mean, they just left the bar on the ground.”

“Exactly. And you know, Paula told me the other day that she thought we were doing just fine—and okay, you know what, maybe that’s not quite the ringing endorsement I was gunning for,” Rebecca backtracks when Nathaniel’s eyebrows shoot high up on his forehead in disbelief. “You are absolutely correct. I should have led with Darryl—Darryl also said we’re doing really well, in the same conversation. And April agreed! I think that totally counts in our favor.”

Nathaniel looks down at Evie, as if to check that she has not stirred, but not so quickly that Rebecca doesn’t catch his pleased smile.

“I think so,” he says softly. His gaze comes up to meet hers, and she’s gratified to see the cloud in his expression has cleared. “Anything else on your mind?”

“Nothing urgent. But I think we do need a bigger space—I think we were overly optimistic about how much square footage a baby needs. Can you imagine how cramped this place is going to feel once she starts crawling?”

“No, but I still can’t picture her sleeping through the night right now, either,” says Nathaniel. “Besides, if we had a spare room, we’d be obligated to offer it to your mother.”

“Good point. On the other hand, having a spare room means we would have a designated place for sex again.”

Nathaniel blanches.

“Rebecca!” he hisses under his breath, retracting his hand from her hair and cupping it protectively around Evie’s exposed ear.

“What?” Rebecca asks innocently, biting her lip to keep from grinning. “She doesn’t understand words yet. And it wasn’t an invitation, dude. More like a notion, if you will. A notion we should consider, because practically speaking, at some point we are going to want to…” she trails off, fumbling for an appropriate euphemism.

“Play Boggle?” Nathaniel suggests helpfully.

Rebecca rolls her eyes at him, fond. “I see what you did there. But yeah, we’re going to want to play Boggle regularly again, and it’ll be nice to have a separate room to set things up; I don’t want to have to send her away each time we plan a game night. And while the shower technically counts, given that we are not as young as we used to be, I don’t think it’s worth the risk.

“Oh, come on, we’re not that old,” Nathaniel objects, leaning forward, then freezes at a tiny squeak from the bundle on his chest—Rebecca would laugh at how his eyes pop in alarm if she wasn’t certain that hers were doing the exact same thing. They both hold their breath, watching, but she only whimpers a little and rubs at her face before falling silent again.

“Close one,” whispers Rebecca.

“That was on you,” he mutters. “All I’m just saying is that it shouldn’t be considered entirely off the table—”

“Oh, don’t get me started on the table. Not with the way your back is going.”

Nathaniel brings his hand up to cover his mouth but isn’t quite able to contain his snort of laughter completely. Rebecca grins, unrepentant, and he rolls his eyes at her.

“Fine, let’s look into getting a new place after your mom’s visit,” he says, letting his hand return to his side. “But I maintain that Evie doesn’t need to know anything about that aspect of our marriage, okay?”

Rebecca rolls her eyes. “I mean, point taken, I learned way too much about my mom’s love life way too early, but still—at the end of the day, intercourse is just a part of most people’s lives, dude. I don’t want her to grow up thinking it’s shameful or gross.”  

“I know.”

“And besides, if we freak her out too much and she does need a therapist, we can always help her find a good one.”

Nathaniel nods. “Right.”

“And she won’t be afraid to ask us, because she’ll know it’s not shameful to need help.”

“Of course,” agrees Nathaniel, his forehead starting to crease.

“Because she’ll know she can rely on us if she ever needs help,” Rebecca continues fiercely, warming on her theme. “Because we’ll tell her that we love her no matter what, and that we’ll always be there for her no matter what. She won’t ever feel like we won’t be. She won’t ever know what that’s like.”

She stops abruptly, not because she doesn’t have more to say but because her heart has tightened her throat. She can’t quite look at Nathaniel, squeezing her eyes tightly closed to contain the surge of protectiveness that threatens to burst out of her.

“Of course,” he says, so quietly she almost can’t hear him over the throbbing of blood in her ears. “She’ll always have us.”

She feels his hand come up to cup her face, then slide down to the nape of her neck. but his thumb brushing over the muscles in firm circles, soothing the tension there, the gentle physicality of the motion grounding her in their present.

“We’ll help her get whatever she needs,” he echoes, his voice thick, but firm in his conviction.

Rebecca nods rapidly, not trusting herself to speak. She brings her hands to her eyes and takes a slow breath, expelling a shaky laugh.

“Wow, I’m sorry, I’m more tired than I thought for all of that to come, just, like, rushing out. It must be the baby brain,” she says. “Heather warned me that it could happen. Remember?”

“I remember,” says Nathaniel. Then, even more gently, “I only have a noon meeting tomorrow. Want me to pick you up from therapy? We can go to Il Cabino after; have some dinner, show off Evie and make everyone else jealous.”

She gives a tiny nod. “That would be nice.”

“It’s a date, then,” says Nathaniel, and Rebecca giggles again. She looks at the man with whom she has created this space, where they have created something that is entirely their own, where they can be vulnerable and fall to pieces and rebuild into something stronger and remembers all of the steps that led them there. It’s always been give and take between them. That was how they started, that was how they would keep going. They could do this.

“And it sounds wonderful. Thank you.” She leans over and kisses him, still mindful not to disturb the baby. “Now scoot over. I wanna put my head on your other shoulder.”

“Wouldn’t it be better just to go back to bed if you’re tired?” he asks, even as he shuffles over so that Rebecca can press even more tightly into his side, humming in contentment as his free hand curls gently into her hair.

“I’ll go when you go. It’s technically still my turn,” she murmurs. “And I don’t wanna miss anything.”

[paladin-andric]

When Worlds Collide (Part One)

The start of a story I’ve had on my mind for quite a while. A fantasy/real life crossover! This could be a book if I really wanted it to be...

What will happen to our lost army? Will they ever find their way home? How did they get here? How can they cope with the fantastical world of Deaco, and can someone stop them before they do any damage?

“Steady...STEADY!”

The howling winds and mad currents were paired with the pouring thunderstorm, all around them only the fierce and deathly oceans as their ship lost all control.

“The sails are down,” a sailor cried, the sails are down!”

The sight of the quarry of sharp stone rocks they were approaching signaled what was about to happen.

“HOLD ON TO SOMETHING!” Edward screamed, clutching onto the handles beside him before the entire ship rocked violently. The nobleman was thrown overboard, hitting something and losing consciousness immediately. He did not see the rest of the ship capsize.

The Hundred Years’ War was raging on in Europe. It had taken a turn for the worse in recent years, with the English power base in France relegated to Normandy and Gascony.

In an ambitious and risky move, the English Crown decided to ferry a relief force around the French coast to Gascony, to assist in holding the line against the French troops, who were gaining more and more ground by the day.

However, the ship never made it to port. It vanished somewhere in the Bay of Biscay, after having crossed the English Channel. It was assumed they were sunk by the French navy, and all soldiers and navy men aboard killed.

This was far from the case, however. In the ocean, a freak hurricane suddenly came from nowhere, sank the navy, and vanished, leaving no witnesses...and though the fleet was sank, its inhabitants certainly didn’t drown.

“Sir...sir!”

The first thing Edward felt was the icy and wet feeling of soaked clothes. He felt water lapping at him from below, submerged up to the waist. Above that he could feel sand on his face.

“Sir...get up! Come on!”

Edward groaned, slowly pushing himself off the ground and raising his head, blinking as his vision began to return.

A blurry figure was kneeling above him. He shook his head and wiped the grains of sand from his beard before focusing on the figure.

“Ah, you live! Thanks be to God.”

He could make out the face of a young and clean-shaven man.

“Agh...Harry?”

“Yes, it’s me sir! We’ve been looking all over for you!”

There was still a dull pain at the back of his head. He’d slammed into the rocks and been knocked out when the ship fell over.

“What happened? I thought we drowned at sea…”

“That’s what we all thought, but...it’s a miracle! Look around you!”

Shaking himself fully awake, Edward finally managed to get a good look at where he was.

He was on a beach, his legs still at the very edge, water washing over them as the waves peaked. All around them was white sand, trees, and sunny skies.

It was beautiful. To think he had been in a hellish nightmare of darkness and cruelty just a short while ago…

“Looks like we washed up ashore! What grand luck! Jesus is surely protecting us!”

“B-but...I thought we were out away from the coasts...in the ocean.”

“Perhaps there was an island nearby,” Harry said with a shrug, “Here, take my hand.”

“Not necessary,” Edward answered hastily, quickly getting to his feet. He took a deep breath and wiped at his clothes, wet sand clinging to them. “Huh...I’ll need my things washed at some point...how many made it?”

“That’s the thing sir,” the soldier answered, “It seems...everyone.”

“W-what?!”

“Yeah! I mean, the teams are still spread out searching, but...the vast majority of the army has been found, and we’re still not done sweeping the beaches yet.”

“Maybe Jesus really is protecting us…” Edward muttered.

“Well, we were looking for you, sir. As the commander, you’re the one who’ll decide our next moves. We’re not sure what this means for the campaign...what shall we do?”

Edward scratched his beard for a moment. “...we move out. I want this island explored, and its resources identified. We need a steady supply of food and water, and after that we need to start assembling tools and cutting down trees. After that, we make rafts and try our luck in the sea again.

“Sir?! Rafts...in the ocean?!”

“No one knows we’re here. The Kingdom probably thinks we’re all dead. If we wait for rescue, we’re gonna be stuck on this island for the rest of our lives.

“Someone must pass by eventually...we’re just off the coast of France!”

Edward shook his head. “We can’t assume that. Besides, we gave the coast a huge berth. This could be an undiscovered island for all we know. We need to build rafts, set off on a clear, calm day, and try for the French coast. We can try to make a run for Gascony once we’re there. It’s our only chance of getting back home.”

Harry nodded. “Yessir.”

The group continued scouring the beach, finding the remaining members of the army. Stranger still was the fact that not only did every man there seem to be alive, but the horses too! How in world could every single soul aboard the boats survive such a violent crash?!

Soon they set out, surveying the area. Of course, things took a strange turn almost immediately. They thought they were on a small island, but as they left the beach, they found not a tropical jungle, but a temperate countryside. There was no end in sight, and the sight of it reminded them of the cultivated farmlands of their country.

Furthermore, their exploring appeared without end. No matter how far they sent scouts, they never did reach the other side of the island. Was it possible...had they crashed onto the French mainland somehow?

No, the French countryside was heavily populated, they would have ran into fishermen, or farmers, or craftsmen or SOMETHING by now…

“This...doesn’t seem like an island,” Edward said quietly. He was atop his horse, a white stallion that had carried him across several battlefields.

The Earl frowned as he looked at the eerily familiar countryside. Harry moved beside him, on his own horse. All around them, knights rode and soldiers marched.

��Indeed,” the soldier agreed, “It’s almost as if…”

“...we never left,” Edward finished.

Harry nodded. “T-that’s right.”

The chief difference was that it was a lovely day right now. The warm and sunny skies was a stark contrast to the seemingly endless thunderstorms that had been plaguing England shortly before he left.

A rustle from a nearby bush broke the silence, and the Earl’s eyes widened in response. He moved his lance to the right and pointed it at the shrubbery. “Who goes there?! Show yourself!”

Nothing.

“Probably just a rabbit, sir.”

“I give you to the count of three!” Edward cried, “One...two…!”

Amazingly, a figure did indeed emerge from the bushes.

“Hark! We-BY GOD!”

Edward’s announcement was cut short by the one that showed themselves to the Englishmen.

A small, bizarre creature slowly rose to its feet and stood plainly in sight. It looked like a lizard, but stood upright. It wore ragged brown fabrics, and stood hunched over, looking guilty.

It was a monster.

“W-what in God’s name?!”

“R-reptile! Reptile!”

“MONSTER!”

“BEAST!”

The army erupted into pandemonium, reeling from the shock of seeing such a beast.

Edward pointed at the creature. “D-demon! It’s a demon!”

“Demon?!” the thing shouted back in confusion. It had a high-pitched, scratchy voice. This only furthered their shock.

“It can TALK?!”

“It knows such things…”

Harry was wild-eyed as he too joined the shocked crowd. “My God!” the soldier cried, “It can speak! The demon can speak the tongue of the Englishman!”

“Stop calling me that!” the beast cried.

“Demon! You’re a DEMON!”

“No I’m NOT!”

Edward lowered his lance. “Cut the fiend down! It has no right to live!”

“N-no, wait, you can’t!” it insisted, “You can’t hurt us! You promised!”

“We made no such promise, hellspawn!”

“It’s TRUE! The humans said we can live here in peace with them! I-if you hurt us...the wrath of the kingdom descends upon you!”

“The Kingdom?!” Edward yelled back, “France KNOWS about this?!”

“France…?” the lizard tilted its head.

“My God, I always knew they were depraved Satanist FIENDS! Once I deliver your head to Rome, the king himself will be excommunicated for summoning demons!”

“Degenerate scum!” One of the soldier screamed, “Heathens!”

“W-what are you talking about?! What’s France?!”

“Don’t play stupid, servant of hell!” Edward’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at the lowly creature before him, “France is the Kingdom you speak of! The ones who shield you from Christendom!”

“I-I don’t know what France or Christendom is, honest!”

“Enough lies! We will cut you down!”

“WAIT!” the monster held its claws up, “Y-you want proof, right?! Wouldn’t I be better proof alive?! Take me captive, I won’t cause you any trouble!”

The Earl frowned. “And give you a chance to work your black magic? Never.”

“I-I don’t know any magic, honest! This must be some misunderstanding…”

The commander readied his lance. “I am Lord Edward, Earl of Oxford! Remember me well, demon, and tell Satan who sent you back to the depths of Hell!”

The lizard stepped back, head shaking wildly. “Y-you can’t be serious...please, don’t…”

“Get BACK!”

Another voice made the army turn.

Another small lizard jumped out, claws waving around wildly. Around those claws, flames danced.

“Get back! Leave my friend alone! Or else I’ll...I’ll burn you to cinders!”

He flung a fireball at the crowd, the burst of flames thankfully hitting the ground. Everyone reeled back in sheer disbelief.

“Black magic! They ARE demons!”

“SLAY THEM!”

The lizard turned to his friend. “Mepin...RUN!”

The pair bolted, the cavalry in hot pursuit. Their speed was shocking, and they vanished into the forest behind them. As the army gave chase, others observed…

A pair of women watched the army chase the kobolds off into the woods, huddled behind a wooden fence. The army carried strange banners that neither of them had ever seen before.

One of the women spoke. “France? Oxford? These are not places in Geralthin...are we under attack? Are there other human kingdoms out there?”

“Impossible,” her friend answered, “There’s none in the entire world! We’re all that there is…”

The woman frowned. This was bad news.

“We’d better tell someone.”

Tag list: @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, @lady-redshield-writes, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @sheralynnramsey, @tawnywrites, @writer-on-time, @oceanwriter, @zwergis-spilledink, @fluffpiggy, @elliewritesfantasy, @homesteadhorner,  @laurenwastestimewriting, @elaynab-writing, @the-ichor-of-ruination, @reya-writes

[sunyoonandstars]

BTS Scenario 3.3.: Them seeing your evident self-harm scars (for the first time) || You x Hoseok

So ... since this is kind of close to home for me and it helped me deal with some issues of my own, I wrote and published this same scenario for Seokjin and Yoongi already a while back. I aim to do the same for all the members. And here comes the Jung Hoseok edition. I hope reading it will give you as much strength, hope, and comfort as writing it did me. 😌

Scenario

You are in a serious relationship with them but have somehow managed to hide your self-harm scars up to this point. However, for some reason they are coincidentally faced with your scars. These are their reactions:

angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

! Disclaimer/trigger warning ! The following text contains mentions of self-abusive / self-harming behavior and scars. Do not read if it may trigger you!

If you are currently struggling and need someone to talk, know that you can always contact me.  I have personal experience with mental illness and self-harm. I don’t know what you may be going through, but I know you can make it! Love yourself! 💜

Mental health matters! You matter! And you are truly beautiful! 

Hoseok would most likely be overwhelmed by the situation at first. He wouldn’t be able to understand how you could mistreat yourself like that. As soon as it all would sink in, he’d probably be disappointed with you for being dishonest with him and blame himself for not having been observant enough to see through your facade… However, most of all he would be hurt by your pain and suffer with you, wanting nothing more than for you to be able to love yourself as much as he does you.

The two of you had been practicing intensely all day long already, trying to internalize a complex new choreography. It’s the middle of summer and scorching hot outside. Even though the air conditioning is running at full blast, the heat ultimately creeps into the practice room, leaving both of you bathed in sweat. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Hoseok taking off his light sweater, continuing to dance only dressed in track pants and undershirt, secretly envious of his relief since you have no choice but to keep on exercising in your long-sleeved jumper. 

Another hour passes, and you notice the heat, thanks to the heavy fabric of your shirt unable to escape your body, slowly but surely taking a toll on you. Your head pounds as if it’s about to explode, your face is covered in beads of sweat, your hair sticking to your clammy forehead, a salty taste in your mouth. You can feel your heart hammering in your throat which is gradually tightening, it’s desperate beat booming in your ears. Eventually, a sudden but strong dizzy spell hits you unexpectedly, sending you staggering to the ground. 

„Y/n!“, Hoseok exclaims as he sees you fall, all life apparently having left your limp extremities, sheer panic coating his voice which you can barely hear over the sound of your own heavy breathing. Instantly, he is by your side, his angelic features distorted by profound concern. 

„What is it, y/n? Is it the heat? You must be dehydrated!“ Carefully, he helps you sit back up and puts a bottle of water to your lips. You empty it eagerly, Hoseok all the while watching you intently, nowhere near becalmed, reassuringly stroking your sweaty head and back. 

„Are you a little better, y/n, honey?“

„Hm-hm“, you hum in reply, not daring to nod your head in fear of another dizzy spell, since even the slightest movement seems to cause the world to spin before your eyes once again. 

„Jeez, y/n, you scared me! Why didn’t you take your sweatshirt off? It’s far too hot in here to be practicing dressed like this! Your body must’ve been overstrained, working too hard to compensate the heat. Come on, let me get you out of this thing.“ 

Too weak to fight him, you are unable to prevent Hoseok from ridding you of your oversized sweater. And inevitably getting a first glimpse at your scarred forearms in the process. 

Gasping for air, he stares at the pink lines disfiguring your skin, some of them fading already, some of them fresher and still bright red, without even making an effort to hide the tears starting to fill his rounded eyes, Hoseok’s face as pale as ashes. 

„Y/n, what did you do to yourself? How …? When …? Why …?“ 

In horror and disbelief, he keeps on shaking his head, the sight of him being this hurt by acts you committed against yourself breaking your heart.

„How … How didn’t I notice?“, he mutters under his breath, his voice shaking, gone almost, and his eyes, widening by the second, still fixed on your scars.

„It’s not your fault, Hobi. I’ve just gotten pretty good at hiding them with time and practice, that’s all.“

You try to move away from him, to cover up your arms, remove them from his sight for your sake and his, but Hoseok’s hands remain tightly clutched around your wrists. 

„So that’s why you never got fully undressed“, he now hisses, more to himself. You can’t help but notice the dangerously angry undertone to his voice.

„Y/n, we’ve been dating for over four months now, we were intimate almost from the beginning and all this time you were intentionally covering up, hiding this from me!? I thought it was simply because of your insecurities and didn’t wanna push you. How could you knowingly fool me like that? When were you planning on letting me in on this, y/n, on showing me this part of you? I thought we were in a relationship. I thought we were in love. No, we loved each other.“

„We are, Hoseok!”, you snivel. “And I do! I love you!“

You free one hand from Hoseok’s grasp to reach up for his face and brush away his tears, but he slickly dodges your touch. His reaction stings your heart like an icy dagger. 

„I really do love you, Hoseok, more than my own life“, you insist, your eyes quickly filling up with tears.

„Please, don’t be angry at me, Hobi“, you continue to beg. „I’m sorry I wasn’t honest. I just …“

„I’m not angry at you, y/n“, he shakes his head, sweat-drenched hair falling into his eyes that are avoiding your gaze. „I’m just … frustrated. With myself for not seeing what was right under my nose. For not noticing that you were hurting all the while we were together. I’m angry at myself for not seeing it in your eyes. For not being there for you. For not being enough, obviously. For —“

„But that’s not true, Hobi!“, you cut him off in mid-sentence, your voice shrill, shaken by uncontrollable sobs at this point as you get up on your knees and finally manage to shake off Hoseok’s hand still clutched around your wrist, going on to climb onto his lap and cup his face with your palms. „You’re more than enough, Jung Hoseok. Seriously. You’re my everything. You’re my sun, my hope, my inspiration. You’re what made me stop this.“

You point towards your scars.

„So don’t put the blame on yourself, Hoseok. Please. Put it all on me. You didn’t do anything wrong here. I wasn’t ready to show you yet. Because, yes, I was scared. So many people I held dear have been alienated by those very scars before. I just couldn’t let that happen this time, with you, with us. Because I need you, Hoseok. You’re my drug, my medicine, my light. I just got so frightened at the mere thought of losing you because of —“

„Because of who you are?“, he finishes your sentence, his eyes locked with yours now, the expression in his deep, dark brown ones unusually grave. You can feel your heart skip a beat, your last breath getting stuck in your throat. 

„You know, y/n, now that I think about it I actually am a little angry at you“, Hoseok continues, wrapping both arms around your waist to pull your body closer to his, his gaze into your soul never once breaking. "Because you were apparently so afraid of my reaction to your scars that you thought you’d rather endanger your health than show me this part of you? Don’t you trust me, y/n? Did you honestly think I’d abandon you, just like this? Just because you’re not a ‚perfect angel‘? I’m a little hurt, to be honest. Well, at least disappointed.“

„I’m so sorry, Hoseok. I —“

Your voice trails off when he leans his forehead against yours, breathing out a sigh. 

„No, don’t apologize, y/n. There really is no need to“, Hoseok softly whispers, placing both his hands on each of your cheeks, fixing his eyes on yours once again, a fond smile playing on his rosy, heart-shaped lips as he leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your temple. „I get it, y/n, I really do. I, too, have always been afraid to let my darker side show, to burden those around me with my sadness or worries. But you should know, you have to know, that you can always be yourself with me. At all times, unapologetically you. Because I love you, y/n. With my whole heart and soul. For exactly the person you are, with scars and all. They are no flaw. They are solely evidence of your incredible strength and the journey you have mastered so far to become the person before me. Never change. Never hide. Not for anyone. Not even for me. Because you are perfect just the way you are. And I literally love every single thing about you, even those you consider unlovable. So, please, try and see what I see in you, y/n. There is no real reason for you to be hateful or destructive against yourself. Just talk to me whenever you feel the need to. And I’ll help you forget the pain. I’ll gladly be your pill, your remedy, for as long as I can.“ 

Incredulous, tears of relief freely streaming down your face and coating your cheeks, you look at Hoseok, your man, your hope, who merely smiles at you, his eyes showing nothing but sincerity and boundless love. 

„Thank you“, you sniffle, making an effort to hide your face behind a curtain of hair as you blush under Hoseok’s tender yet vehement glance. However, he doesn’t let you, instead lifts his hand to brush your silky locks behind your ears and tilts his head to the side to be able to look at you from a better angle, his face beaming with affection. 

„Honestly, Hoseok. You have no idea what this means to me.“

„I do, baby, I do“, he smiles, slowly closing the gap between you to put his lips to yours. „Just promise me that you’ll never ever hide anything like this from me again. Because I want to see it all.“

I hope you liked it and could maybe, hopefully, even take some comfort from it. 

Thanks for reading! Take care, have a wonderful day and never forget: You are loved! 💜

Here you can find my Masterlist if you feel like checking out more of my BTS fiction!

All GIFs used are NOT mine. Credit goes to the initial creators. Thank you for your hard work and dedication.

[oumiyuki]

The Daily Life of Loving a Really Cute but Dense Vampire Ch22

Ch22 - Umi has a lot of things to say

The doorbell rings and Maki puts the book she was reading to the side, an empty space on her "princess bed" as a certain gingerhead vampire calls it, though it's actually a queen size bed. The redhead could not help but glance at the windows before starting for the main gate downstairs.

Not there, huh?

"Umi." Maki greets with a nod as she opens the doors.

"Good afternoon, Maki. Excuse the intrusion." The ever-polite bluenette returns the greeting as she enters the large Nishikino apartment.

"You're stiff as ever." Maki comments as she lets the door shut on its own, bonus of having autolocks.

If it was Honoka... Why am I even thinking of her anyway?

Umi shakes her head as she makes her way to the second floor. "It's common courtesy. Even Honoka practices that."

Honoka?

The redhead thinks of the rulebreaker gingerhead in an incredulous tone and snorts a laugh. "Yeah, yeah. When she uses the front door and there's an adult there, she does."

Not that I don't understand that it's respectful and is courtesy...

Umi furrows her eyebrows and turns to look at her childhood friend. "Front door?"

Yeah, front door, Umi. The uncommon method to entering a house for Honoka.

Maki just stares at the bluenette for a good ten seconds to see if Umi would make a smart guess, but since Umi wasn't reacting. "Honoka never visited you via the window or something before? I would think she does it at least fifty percent of the time."

Or 100% here...

Umi's face changed into one of enlightenment before she smiled wryly with a short head shake. "Our garden, yes..."

That's Honoka...

They each take their respective positions in Maki's room by the bed before Umi adds. "I scold her each time she does too."

"Why am I not surprised?" Maki teases, her violet eyes twinkling slightly.

That's Umi.

Umi feigns a scared and worried look, a hand to her mock gaping mouth. "This is bad, Maki...We're getting too used to Honoka's antics..."

It only took a second for the two childhood friends to break into a loud, unbridled laughter.

"So...what did you want to talk about? It sounded rather urgent too." Maki recovered first and brought them to the point of this weekend's meetup.

It's rare for Umi to call and ask me to make my weekend or at least Saturday free would have to clear her schedule too after all.

"Ah." The bluenette straightened her posture as her facial expression relaxed; taking a moment to gather her thoughts and consider how she wanted to inform Maki of the current status - she was in a friend-relationship with two vampires who are their classmates. And will soon include Maki.

However, that time of thinking got Maki overthinking.

Is this very serious? What happened? Does it have to do with the hospital so she didn't want me helping Papa and Mama today? Is this..!

"Is this about Honoka?" Maki asked hurriedly, obviously worried.

"What?" Umi blinked at the sudden change in mood as a whole. "I suppose you could say Honoka is involved..."

No...

"Is Honoka alright? What happened Umi? Are...Are Cold vampires involved?" The doctor's apprentice frowned in concern, getting into a standing position.

If Honoka is in the hospital or even have a cut, I want to be the one to patch her up. To make sure she's okay...

The slow to the uptake vampire raised both eyebrowsslowly, at her childhood friend's unexpected barrage of concerned questions. "Maki? Honoka is fine. She's most probably helping out at Homura right now. Hopefully."

Honoka is fine..?

The redhead relaxed considerably but was still tensed.

"No Cold vampires involved too. Thankfully." Umi cracked a smile while Maki had a perplexed look on.

"Then what?" Maki is getting a tad irritated for not getting a straight to the point answer.

If Honoka is involved-

"Don't tell me this has to do with Kotori." Maki frowned, she was feeling that upset feeling which she have yet to fully understand in her again.

Umi wore an amused smile as she observes Maki's blatant jealousy for a certain dense gingerhead. "It's about Nico actually."

Maki was surprised as her fine red brows rose. "Nico-chan?"

What does Umi have to say about the short and foolish class idol- Oh, right. She's vampire and Umi knows. Not that it concerns me.

Umi nods. "And Nozomi..." The bluenette sighs as she thinks about the up to mischief purplenette.

"Toujou-san? Why?" The doctor-to-be was growing more confused.

Umi this time went straight to the point. "Nico and Nozomi are vampires."

"What?!" Maki stood up from the sheer surprise - two of her classmates are vampires?

Umi nods as affirmation. "That's what I learnt and confirmed yesterday after school when I spoke to Nico."

Have they noticed or found out about Honoka? N-Not that it's my issue!

"Nico-chan told you and you took her word for it?" The redhead always played the devil's advocate as she sounded some doubt.

"I saw Nozomi displaying a not human speed, Maki."

"Huh... Alright. Now I know, I won't tell, you know?" The redhead sat back down.

Umi smiles. "I know. But Nozomi is going to approach you and greet you as a vampire friend on Monday. So I thought I'd give you a heads up...If you haven't noticed...Nozomi can be...rather eccentric? She'd probably get on your nerves with teasing."

Toujou-san is going to speak to me more than usual? ...

"Can we not?" Maki crossed her legs to the other side, showing signs of discomfort from considering having to interact with someone other than Honoka or Umi...plus the mysterious vice class president's cheeky smile appeared in Maki's mind.

Umi chuckles a little. "Be nice, Maki. Nozomi just wants to be friends."

"Friends... Not that I don't understand... I mean, I don't care for making more friends!" A blush graced the redhead's cheeks as her hidden desire to make friends surfaced for a moment, and she twirled her hair nervously.

The bluenette knew and decided to give Maki a break, simply replying with sarcasm that Maki is very familiar with. "Riiight, I believe you."

Maki groans at Umi's respond, for Umi was sure to be thinking that Maki is even a little bit happy for a chance to expand her friendship circle by one.

More vampire friends huh..? Sounds fun. Especially since they are good ones...

Maki smiles as she pictured herself, Honoka, Umi and her additional friends - Nozomi and Nico hanging out in the Sonoda's large garden...Not an impossible future.

The guilty of various mistakes vampire (as verdict by her childhood friend) was currently panicking in her family's store. "Ah...what should I do? Is one box of blood manjuu enough? Maybe I should bring two? Umi-chan is definitely going to scold me..."

Type A, type B, type AB... I should pack them all..!

"Honoka. Words." Honoka's mum chides from behind the counter about her eldest daughter' choice of words where a human customer could step in and overhear.

Ah! I said the taboo word blood!

"Sorry..." The gingerhead lowers her head towards her mum as an apology, though she was holding it with both hands out of stress.

"Onee-chan should be scolded anyway. I'm with Umi-san on this." The youngest Kousaka commented smugly from behind the counter.

Uu...Yukiho is a meanie...

"Yukiho~~" The older sister without a dignity, at least when it comes to discipline, whines as she was unable to rebut, she knew she crossed one too many lines in Umi's book of 'Good and disciplined vampires' and could only wait to accept her punishment.

Not that it's stopping the silly vampire to hope that some blood manjuus could make her punishment less punishing (more manjuu in Umi's mouth means less nagging from Umi's mouth! Honoka's logic.)

Yukiho~~ help out your sister~~ please~~

The smaller redhead rolls her eyes at her older sister's childish display in requesting assistance as she passes her older sister a box of blood manjuu meant as appeasing gifts for her older sister's cool and dependable childhood friends. "Make sure to show that you know you've done wrong."

I know...

Honoka pouts as she accepts the box of sweets. "I will... Thank you, Yukiho!" The gingerhead hugs her younger sister out of the blue as thanks.

I know you'll always be on my side! Hehe~

"Mou! Onee-chan! You'll get the manjuus or jumbled up! Let go already!" Yukiho shouts, attempting to break free from her older sister's warm hug, a smile on her lips.

Opps! Wouldn't want to present to Umi-chan a box of messy manjuus... If all the blood splatters... It'll be like a warzone inside!

Honoka simply giggles before running for the door with a wave. "See you later!"

May Umi-chan be in a good mood today!

"Honoka should be arriving soon." Maki comments as she looks towards her room's sliding windows.

"And you think she'll be by the windows and not the door..." Umi shook her head as she smiled wryly; she knows that entering through windows or some other unorthodox way is something her playful and full of surprises friend would do, but she can't stop herself from wanting Honoka to not live life so dangerously - what if someone saw her "break in"!

"We could make a bet." The redhead challenges with her own playful smile.

It's kind of rare for Maki to start a game so Umi took the bait. "You're not allowed to plead for Honoka later if she enters through the door."

Maki wore a look of disbelief. "Since when have I pleaded for Honoka?"

Umi deadpanned. "Any time Honoka hugs you for an extended period, begging you to take her side and ask me to forgive her."

"I don't-"

Maki wanted to deny but-

"And you would look at me with those eyes that says 'Forgive Honoka, Umi? She's too cute to not be forgiven.'" The bluenette laid out the message she gets from the redhead when Honoka seeks help from the very same redhead.

Maki was appalled as she slammed both hands on her quilt soft bed, an angry and indignant pout on. "I never said that! N-never thought that!" Maki stutters as she knew she always thinks that Honoka is cute every now and then, though she denies those thoughts immediately after. "Umi does it too!"

The bluenette was caught off guard that Maki shot arrows back figuratively, an honest blush on the archer's face as she knew she did fall prey to the annoying, relentless and yes, cute gingerhead's beg for forgiveness and help when it was Maki who was the one scolding Honoka. "E-Even so Maki..."

Maki huffs and crosses her arms, looking the other way before speaking through stubborn jaws that did not really want to admit that she found a pleading and hugging Honoka cute. "Fine..."

"What's that?" Umi teased, Maki grumbled her agreement which humans won't be able to catch, but a vampire could.

Maki glared at Umi for a second. "I said fine. The bet's on."

Umi smiles. "Okay."

After some comfortable silence for the two to cool down. "And you're going to ask Honoka to hang out with us more if she comes by the window..."

Umi chuckles at Maki's request that the redhead again mumbled at a really soft volume. "You miss her?"

"I don't." Maki was quick to deny - how obvious.

"Jealous of Kotori?" Umi continued, ignoring her own slight twinge of jealousy.

"No!" Maki grabbed a baby pink feather cushion to throw at Umi.

Umi catches the cushion with a laugh. "Alright, alright. I'll stop." Umi says in between chuckles.

Maki could only frown for two seconds before a smile pulled on her lips - be it these relaxing moments with her childhood friend(s) or the future of spending time together, it puts a smile on Maki's face, even if she will deny it if someone mentions it to her.

Honoka being Honoka loves doing what's more fun and possibly the easier choice, meaning Honoka transformed into a bat the moment she was one street from her home, plastic bag of blood manjuus at her bat feet as she flapped her wings and flew for her amazing doctor friend's house.

"This way is so much faster~ hehe~" Honoka-bat loves the feeling of wind blowing pass her face and wings before she does a loop she probably shouldn't be doing with manjuus in hand. "And fun!"

Oh! Better be careful with these..!

Honoka-bat chuckles nervously at her carelessness.

Please be okay, o great blood manjuus! I need your strength to defeat- I mean appease Umi-chan!

Honoka-bat tug the bag of manjuus closer to her as a show of respect to the o great blood manjuus that she beseeched help from, and with that almost crashed into a lightning pole.

"Wah! Woah! Ah, sorry! Are you okay? Please be okay! Hehe..." Honoka-bat manages to make a sharp swerve in the nick of time, the bag of manjuus perhaps only grazing the pole a little as she exclaims her apology to the unharmed pole and concern for the manjuus.

I really gotta be more careful... If the manjuus get damaged Umi-chan will be even more angrier!

If the box of manjuus could speak, they would tell Honoka that her childhood friends would be more concerned and upset if she was hurt, not the manjuus. But alas, the oblivious gingerhead did not even consider that.

"Ooh~ I see Maki-chan's house!" Honoka-bat almost did a bubbly loop de loop, but stopped herself at the last second, refocusing altitude.

I usually would go to Maki-chan's window...But I guess it would make Umi-chan happier if I go from the front door?

Honoka transformed back to human form, gift box in her hand safely as she looked at the grand gates of the Nishikino apartment, a nervous grin on her lips.

Let's do this!

Not needing a second thought, Honoka attempts to open the gates which shook at her attempt, the metal bending a little from her unintended use of vampire strength but still closed as a locked gate should be.

"Oh, right. Doorbells!" The gingerhead who is rather used to simply entering any of her childhood friend's home laughs to herself before ringing the bell.

A buzz sounded by the security box and the gingerhead's childhood friend also daughter of the apartment voice sounded. "Honoka you idiot."

"Eh? What I do?" Honoka pouted, she expected a friendly greeting, not to be scolded right off the bat!

Was Maki-chan angry at me too? Did I do something?

"Just get in already." Maki was clearly annoyed, but Honoka could make out Umi's chuckle in the background.

"Kay..." Honoka replied as she went through the gates and front door, a worried and puzzled look on her face.

I should have brought some tomato snacks too...Or was Maki-chan grouchy because of Umi-chan..?

Honoka could not quite believe that Umi would upset Maki though, since Umi was perfect most of the time.

"I'm here..." Honoka announced her presence timidly, carefully as she opened the door to Maki's room as carefully as she could too, knowing that if it slammed Umi would get angry.

"Just hurry up and get in already." The still upset for a reason Honoka wasn't sure of redhead spoke.

"Ah, mmph!" Honoka hurried in and just as the door was about to slam itself close as the vampire accidentally puts in way too much force in the push, the gingerhead spun around and grabbed the knob, heaving a loud sigh of relief. "Phew..."

That was a close call!

"Honoka." The bluenette that Honoka was being careful around of calls, which makes said vampire jump.

"Y-yes?" A crooked, guilty smile.

I can't tell what Umi-chan is thinking!

Umi keeps the stoic expression and gestures for Honoka to sit.

Well, now or never! O great blood manjuus, please make Umi-chan happy and willing to forgive my slip ups!

"Umi-chan! These are for you!" The gingerhead was in front of Umi in the next moment, in a seiza position as she proferred the box of Homura's sweets. "I know you're not picky, so there are all the types of blood here which you can enjoy too!"

Umi-chan will see that I'm thinking of what she likes and forgive me! Should.

The guilty as charged vampire raised her head with a wavering smile to see her friend's expression.

"Honoka..." Umi began and Honoka gave her full attention - back straight, still in seiza. A smile poked at the bluenette's lips. "I'm not angry, Honoka."

"Y-You aren't?" The gingerhead smiled hopefully.

I guess I didn't had to worry so much? Umi-chan is really understanding after all!

"No." Honoka propelled herself up on her feet and hugged Umi.

"I love you, Umi-chan!"

"But! I am still going to scold you." Umi cleared her throat as she steeled herself to not be overly affected by Honoka's warm hugs; someone has to be the one to teach Honoka about responsibility.

"Ehhhh~~ Uumiii-chaaan~~" Honoka goes into full blown whining, pouting as she shook Umi's shoulder. "I- I know I was wrong already, there's no need to nag!"

Umi raised both eyebrows - a simple act that made the gingerhead gulp audibly. "I mean there's no need to scold me...I really understand what I did wrong!"

If Umi-chan isn't angry...she shouldn't have to scold me...

"Really now, Honoka? What's the first mistake you made then?" Umi offers Honoka a chance to reduce the nag as she takes a type AB blood manjuu out to snack; the smell was too enticing to wait.

Eh..? First mistake..? Which was it again...

"I forgot to do my math homework?" Honoka made a wild guess.

Umi frowns and Honoka can see her fate already. "That's inconsequential right now, Honoka. And have you done it?"

Wrong guess! Math..? One question is something right?

"I...I started on it!" Honoka quickly replied and Umi breathes out of her nose - not a good sign. "I-I'll finish it by this weekend!"

"Finish it by tonight." Umi stated, ignoring Honoka's expression full of protest.

Tonight is way too much... I forgot to do one exercise last week, and there's another for this week...so it's twenty math problems!

"Umi-chan is a meanie..." Honoka mumbles.

The bluenette shakes her head. "The first thing you did wrong Honoka, was to even forget that we were going to hunt together." Understanding or memory of that day daunts on Honoka. "Do you have any idea how important it is to keep a promise-"

"I was!" Honoka defended to no avail.

With Kotori-chan...

"And how important it is to make sure you quench your thirst? Look what it led to with Maki-"

Ah...The nag has begun!

"Wahh! Maki-chan! Make Umi-chan stop! I'm really sorry for forgetting already!" Honoka hugs Maki from the waist, and directed her distressed, puppy dog eyes at the redhead who pushed at Honoka's face in a weak attempt to get the gingerhead to go away.

"Honoka..." Maki looks to Umi but regrets at vampire speed as Umi's eyes spoke:

"You promised, Maki."

"I know, I know. It's not like I was going to take Honoka's side and get you to stop..." Maki responded with her eyes too.

"You were already..." Umi continued but Maki had already turned away.

"What if it wasn't Maki, Honoka? What if you made another mistake and drank another human's blood..." Umi continued chiding while Honoka pleaded the redhead who decided to shut her eyes, not looking at Honoka's pitiful but cute display helps to not waver.

"Maki-chan..~~"

Maki-chan isn't helping me today... Why? Ahh! Umi-chan is nagging about something else already!

"And Honoka! How could you skip classes along with Kotori? You're leading astray the poor girl who seems obedient and certainly not a rule breaker." Umi shakes her head disapprovingly.

Kotori-chan..? Oh, right...But that's because Kotori-chan wasn't feeling well...and she didn't have lunch...

"I'm sorry..." Honoka apologized as she understood where Umi was coming from - skipping classes is bad, and of course, forgetting to quench your need for blood and taking Maki's is wrong too.

If Kotori-chan started skipping classes, that would be bad...  I like sitting beside her.

Umi releases a long breath as she finished reprimanding Honoka. "You understand now, Honoka?"

"Yes..." Honoka was genuinely apologetic and didn't want to upset Umi further really.

Umi smiles gently and pats Honoka's head lightly. "Good. Don't do it again, okay?"

Umi-chan...Thank you!

Honoka plops herself beside Maki and Umi both happily. "I'll do my best!"

Umi nods satisfactorily and grabs another blood manjuu. "Good."

"That's three cases settled." Maki comments from her side of the bed.

"Oh! Maki-chan do you want a snack too? I can get it for you!" Honoka smiled broadly, she really should have packed some normal manjuu too.

Tomato? Strawberry? Bread?

The redhead considers for a moment before placing her order. "There's a sandwich in the kitchen."

"On it!" Honoka was up and out the door already.

"Was that supposed to be your lunch?" Umi questions.

"Kind of."

"Consume your lunch at the correct timing, Maki." Umi chides as Maki rolls her eyes.

"I just chose not to finish all of it."

"Back!" Honoka accidentally slams the door close, earning her a grimace from Umi as she mouthed her apology.

Ah. Doors always slam...

"Thanks." Maki took a bite of her tomato, cheesy, smoked salmon sandwich with a satisfied "Mm~".

Hehe~ Maki-chan is enjoying her sandwich!

"Oh!" Honoka shouts suddenly.

"What is it, Honoka?" Umi asks after swallowing her fourth manjuu.

I just remembered something fun!

"Are y'all free tomorrow?" Honoka asks, excitement in her entire existence from the tone of her voice to her shining blue eyes and vibrating body.

Umi gestures for Honoka to continue while Maki nods that she was supposedly free.

"I'm gonna play with Arisa-chan and Eli-chan, so I was wondering if Maki-chan and Umi-chan would play with us too! It will be super fun!" Honoka bounced on the bed like a child, looking between each of her childhood friends for her desired answer.

I hope Maki-chan and Umi-chan will be free! And I can show off my Heroic side more~ hehe~

Maki could go to the hospital to help out and Umi could go for more archery and kendo training, but at the look of Honoka's expectant blue eyes, there was no way they were going to tell her no.

"Sure."

"Yay~~!" Honoka cheers and pulls both the redhead and bluenette close to her after linking their arms with hers, which got the three of them laughing. "I can't wait!"

[choccocatmylo]

Dull Colors pt.1:Welcome Home

Eleven years. That's what the judge deemed sufficient for a violent child's outburst of self defense. Even with a capable legal team and vast evidence in her favor, a simple no forfeited her life to a confined cell in a county jail, and later on a maximum security prison. Chocco was 15 when she was arrested, charged and sentenced. Twenty six when she was finally released from the hell of prison.

Matthew, her legal guardian, had written her only two letters. The first, lamenting her foolish refusal of his proposal, one of both convenience on her end, and a selfish wanting on his. The offer was simple, he'd do everything in his wealthy positioning to free her and in return she'd give him her life, in both legal marriage and social standing. With her bearing a suitable heir to his fortunes and keeping herself socially hidden as to stifle suspicions from her half sibling, his daughter.

The thought of being tied down to the brute disgusted her for multiple reasons, and the sheer idea that he could and had already punished her with confinement for refusing had burned a seething hatred for the man so deeply into her mind that she saw a deep red at the thought of him. 

He had stolen seven years from her at that point, and the letter was only rubbing salt in the aching wound he'd made.

The second letter came when she had already been imprisoned for close to nine years, and had been moved to maximum after contributing to a large scale riot, resulting in multiple casualties of both guards and inmates. She had newly been released from solitary for biting a handsy guard in the jugular and was seated in her cell, a steel mouth-guard tied to her face to prevent future incidents.

The mail carrier entered the block and pulled the slot in her door open, then slid in a yellow envelope. The pungent smell of sunflowers flooded the room and made her nose itchy. She climbed to her feet and shambled to where the letter had fallen by the door. The slot closed quickly and she heard footsteps running off. Now twenty two years old, Chokaria stood a massive, bulking 6''3 with broad shoulders and bulging muscles. She used one of her clawed fingers to tear open the top of the envelope and pulled the folded papers out. At first she skimmed the letter, then reread it carefully, afraid she was illiterate after all this time or maybe he'd written in code. But no, he'd written in carefully calligraphed Italian, knowing it was the only written language she was familiar with.

 "Dear Chokaria, 

How are you, princess? I'd imagine not so well with the transfer, I hope you were given a chance to say goodbye to any friends you'd made at your last residence. Luckily I pulled a few strings on the outside and moved you somewhere near to me. Peggy says hi, of course. She still believes you're enrolled in a private militant school in Venice. You'll have to write her sometime, I'm sure she'd love to her from you.

I have a proposition for you my dear, it is not so different from my last, but I believe you'll find this one more appealing for the both of us. You're familiar with bartering by now, no? We shall call this a barter. I currently hold in my possession a beautiful engagement ring, and some imperative papers pertaining to your early release. You can come home at any time I wish, and I do intend for you to return to me soon, all I ask is that you sign a few papers on my next arrival to your current…residence. 

Do carefully consider my offer, and evaluate your choices. In the end I will get what I want, the only question is will you get anything you want?

With love, Matthew D'Angelo"

Chokaria had read the letter at least a dozen times. He'd even included a picture of her sister, smiling gleefully and holding a scribble that vaguely resembled the trio of them. She hung the picture of her sibling on the wall, and folded the letter back up. Paranoia began to seep into her brain, would he stoop low enough to hurt her sister to get her to agree? She prayed not, but that man was above nothing, held no quarrels with anything immoral to succeed. What he'd done in the name of training her as a child was evidence enough of his limits. 

Matthew's arrival and subsequent visit had arrived sooner than the inmate envisioned. She was escorted to the private room by two guards, shackled arms behind her and mouth-guard fastened tightly, pressing against her scalp. Her ankles were shackled and her tail was the only free appendage, fastened around her waist as a belt. She was shoved into the room and forced into the chair adjacent to Matthew. He was dressed to the nines, as if to impress her. He had a shit eating grin on his face as he adjusted his red tie. For all intents and purposes he seemed genuinely pleased to see her-or rather, see her in her prisoner garbs.

"It's always a pleasure to see you, beautiful."

She glared at him with her only visible eye. He chuckled and addressed the guards.

"Could one of you please remove that, contraption off of her? I'd like to have a conversation here."

The guards were visibly hesitant.

"Inmate 4467 has an issue with biting and spitting, sir." One of them spoke, the other nodded in agreement. 

Matthew refused to take that for an answer. 

"I am hear in regarding to her legal issues, it would be useful if she could speak, no? I assure you, while I am here she will act in accordance to the warden's rules."

Hearing that the guards cautiously removed the mouth guard. Chocco cracked her jaw and stretched her sore mouth, a visible bruise on her cheek had ached under the pressure of the metal mask.

Matthew was appalled by the bruise and turned his swelling anger to the guards. He began berating them, inquiring to who as he put it-assaulted his client in such a brutal manner. He began promptly speaking to her in Italian. Though his accent was strong and made the words come out scuffed, despite his fluency.

"It wasn't them, another guard." Chokaria spoke nonchalantly.

"Give me a name, or a badge number, now." Matthew demanded of her.

"Can't." She moved her bangs from in front of her hidden eye, which bore three deep scratch marks that had blinded her eye and turned the emerald color to a glazed over gray. 

"Why is that? Are you being extorted? I will bring down the gods hammers on their skull so help me-"

"Bit out his jugular."

"You-What?!"

Matthew asked incredulously, he knew the girl to be a brute but never a homicidal monster that spoke so calmly before him. So she explained herself. Earlier that month a guard had removed her from the yard and did a random frisking in the halls, conveniently where there were no cameras. The search went south fast and resulted in her headbutting him and getting into a short scuffle, at one point her mesh mouth guard came loose which she used the opportunity to remove it, and sink her sharp canines into his throat, nearly ripping out his Adams apple. Matthew, disgusted by the story had then inquired as to where the guard was.

"He ain't dead, in the med bay on leave till the hospital boys come for him. Got solitary for it, the hole was worth it though. Won't let these sick fucks get at me, plus they'll think twice now."

"And if he were to return to his post after this, how are you sure he wouldn't test his luck again? Or seek vengeance?"

"Simple really," Chokaria crossed her legs and rested her arms on the table. "Word gets around, only thing girlies in here hate more than the few chomos that come in are handsy guards. If he comes back the bigger girls will get him fore he comes near me."

"Excuse me? Chomos?"

"Child touchers, diddlers, sickos."

"I see."

Matthew shuffled to his left,  bending slightly at the waist to retrieve something resting near his calf.  He then placed a slim brown briefcase on the table.

"Doesn't match yer outfit oh chief." Chokaria leaned back in her chair. Matthew shot a mean glare at her.

"So you're a fashion critic now?"

She smiled and switched her legs, crossing the opposite over the other.

"No captain, just observant."

"Well, I have some papers you can observe." Matthew pressed to clips on the briefcase and the top sprung open. He shifted through a thin stack of papers before separating it into two piles and closing the case with his elbow. He then placed both on the table, sliding one over to her side with a pen holding them together by the top right corners. A pen of his own adorned his stack, acting as a paperweight.

Chokaria's attention drew to the few sentences she could read. Some  was written in Italian for her convenience, but the vast majority had been written in English. She tried her best to read those parts as well, but ultimately failed. 

"Is this a joke at my expense, Matthew?"

He smiled at the sound of his own name, but when his hazel eyes met an angry green one, the smile faded as fast as it appeared.

"No, no! Not at all, it was simply a legal precaution for the notaries and lawyers. This," He pointed to a small paragraph in Italian. "Is the beginning of the important parts."

Chokaria swiped his much larger hand away and began to read the section he pointed at, the contents expanded onto the remaining pages and were indeed the bits she should be paying attention to.

"You wish me to move in your home, marry you, and bare your kin?" She asked him but also herself, in disbelief of the sheer audacity of the man before her.

"More or less, yes."

"I-I can't believe you!" Chocco slammed a fist onto the table.

"I understand, you must be very confused as to how I could be so-"

"Selfish! Arrogant! Horribly Ignorant!" She yelled in rage filled huffs.

"I was going to say generous, but if that's how you feel.."

"It is not how I feel! It is how you're displaying yourself! You relentless leech, you said the deal would be better for both of us, but it's the same as the last!" 

Matthew stood and raised his hands slowly.

"I understand your frustration, but please, return to your seat."

Chokaria hadn't realized she'd jumped out of her seat, the lax ankle shackles suddenly tightened as she noticed Matthew glance at the guards. With the swelling frustration of her situation, and her fleeting energy she sat down roughly, slamming the chair onto the concrete floors. Matthew slowly returned to his seat, and lowered his hands calmly.

"There-there! No need to get these inadequate gentlemen involved in our conversing." Matthew fixed his tie, flattening it against his bulging chest, his suit did little to hide his bulky muscular frame. Not to mention the modest soft spoken persona he put on for humans was futile if you couldn't ignore how threatening his physique was, and most could not. Chokaria sighed, her curly brown locks falling over her face. The shaven right of her scalp itched like it usually did when she was worried, and her furrowed brows tore down the visage that she was handling this news well and good.

"I refuse D'Angelo. You know I will never agree to this."

"I'm well aware of your stubborn tendencies, but you're willing to throw away your freedom? A chance to have a life again, all for your pride?"

"No, it is your pride that is your hubris, you're the one who lives in this idealized hell that if you have enough money, you can make anyone do anything for you, and you can have anything you wish. Even at the expense of others, even at the expense of people you care about."

"Those are tall claims from someone in your position, Chokaria."

"I'm done talking with you, goodbye."

Chocco stood and signaled the guards. Snapping at them in English.

"Take me back to my cell please,"

She looked at Matthew, who was now standing and holding out the papers for her.

"We're done here."

"I insist, just read them over once more, and if you change your mind, sign them."

 Matthew held out the papers for her to take, placing the pen in his pocket. The inmate could no longer conceal her disdain for him, and any excuse to get him to stop looking at her was one she'd take greedily. So in the end she did take the papers, balling them up into a crumbled tube and shoving them haphazardly into her pocket. Matthew bode her farewell with two kisses on the cheeks and bid adieu before departing. The return to her cell block was stifling with quietness. It seemed lights out had been set for a while and those who were still up were either reading, meditating or humming tranquilly.  When they reached her destination one of the guards briefly spoke into the walkie talkie placed on his chest. There was a loud mechanical buzz and the heavy steel door reeled open with noisy groans. Chokaria slowly entered with her back to them and patiently waited as they released her of her cuffs and shackles. She sat in the middle of the cramped space as the door began to close, and sighed. Retrieving the rolled papers from her pocket and skimming over them. The severity of her predicament began to hit her and she couldn’t help herself from crying tears filled of anguish.

In the end she would be a prisoner regardless of what path she took, and with the time she'd already spent locked away from civilization she would give anything to regain a semblance of freedom.

Even if it meant waiting for her release date.

Chokaria Maelor was released from Decoder's Maximum Security Penitentiary at the age of twenty six. She was given the clothes she came with when she was first incarcerated at fifteen, and the feeble collection of items they confiscated from her when she was in booking. It was a fine day when she exited those barbed gates. The sun was hidden behind a thick row of clouds, and there was a comfortable breeze through the crisp air. Her long mane of hair was tied loosely in a low ponytail, and she used her clawed fingers to rip the old worn tie from her hair. The busted hair piece fell to her feet which were adorned with black converse that were far to small for her feet. She draped her leather jacket over her, reminiscing on how it used to be so large on her, and now it fit properly. Her once striped shirt had transformed into a belly shirt due to her maturity, and it laid snug against her bulking muscular body, as if sculpted to her. The dense pack of muscles on her torso were on full display. She resigned to keeping her gray sweats that were given to her in jail, knowing her only pair of jeans would never fit again. Granted she'd grown tenfold in pants size, regardless of it they were in tatters, barely recognizable as once being an article of clothing.

She hadn't expected anyone to show to her release, and yet still a black SUV sat waiting for her, engine running and an unseen driver waiting at the helm. Someone exited the back seat from the adjacent side as she neared, and her gratefulness dissipated at the revelation of just whom showed up for her. For someone you loathe to be the only one there for you after years of enslavement, a different breed of hatred can be birthed in the human conscious.  

Despite all of her prayers, wishes and hopes, despite all of her pleads for it not to be so, there Matthew D'Angelo stood. Defiant against her wishes, laughing at her prayers to her gods, allowing her to hold hope in her cell all the while knowing he'd return for her regardless of how she felt towards him.

He was there for her, and she hated him for it.

The ride to his estate was quiet and tense. The driver said not a word to them besides giving Chokaria a smile and "welcome to the free world madam." before driving off. Matthew resigned himself to the silence he considered to be a peaceful refrain from their snarky banter. He was simply happy to have his prized toy returned to him, a plaything was all he really saw her as. An item to own, something to add to his growing collection of possessions. But Chocco would not go so willingly, nor without fighting him tooth and nail. She didn't want freedom, she demanded it, and would fight for it, if it came to it she'd kill for it. Sweet freedom that had been robbed from her, stripped and torn from her since she had came with him and her mother to this accursed nation. Well no more, she wasn't going to lay down and wait for a slow, agonizing death. That wasn't quite the being she was raised to be. She was meant and instilled to be a monster. An unruly, uncontained beastly creation of love and hate. Her father's hatred for their home's laws and religions, and her parent's love. But their love was fickle like most ties to others in her life. And when her mother went astray and invited Matthew to her bed, Chokaria learned what hell on earth looked like. Then, when she smuggled the small child to her lover's home, Chocco lived through hell with him. Like all things, when he was bored of her mother he moved his revolting sights on someone else, her. Then, when her mother angered him he did what he always did with his faulty toys, he broke her. Brutality was his specialty, and he enjoyed the screams of those who he inflicted it upon. 

Chokaria shivered as the buried memories resurfaced, creeping into her mind and taking place there to ensure her suffering. She balled her hands into fists and let her gaze fall to her lap, she always promised her mother, as horrible as she had been to her, that she'd never let that fate become of her or her sibling. 

The car stopped at a red light, Chocco looked out the window at the bustling world around her. Random civilians living in their personal universes, coexisting in peace. For the most part there were only humans, but among them there were Creatures, of all shapes and species. Avians soared high and low, rodents stuck to the walls of buildings and squeezed through the crowds. Bigger hulking Creatures like Oxen, Bears and lanky Serpents walked and slithered in longer strides among the smaller humans. There were no hybrids in sight, and she thanked Matthew internally for having the foresight to keep every window in every car heavily tinted. With one way mirrors no one could see  their features, and with proper attire they could blend in with  humans publicly. That was Chokaria's downfall after all, she hadn't listened to him all those years ago and went outside without any obscuring accessories to hide her ears or even a jacket to hide her tail. 

But she hadn't, and she had to live with her decisions, dwelling on the past would not help her now.

"Where are you taking me?" She asked firmly, refusing to even look at the man she spoke to.

"Where else? Home."

She could feel eyes staring at her, his stare boring into the back of her head and making the hairs on her neck stand stiff. It was a mix of disgust and dread that had filled her body, making her chest heavy. She had decided to no longer speak, and in her stead Matthew would happily do so.

"Peggy is currently attending a prestigious, private school for gifted mages and wizards, she'll return in the fall. Until then, you'll have very loose responsibilities. I have an exceptional roster of maids, butlers, chauffeurs and a highly trained security team. Rest assured your every desire will be met, and you needn't worry yourself about anything you might need."

When Chokaria failed to respond he continued on.

"Of course you'll have the freedom to roam the property at anytime and renovate and decorate as you see fit, the staff will brief you on the few rooms you're not permitted to enter…as for leaving the premises, I would hope you can agree that it's far too soon for that."

She looked at him for the first time since she entered the car, he'd peaked her interest with that statement, and if her stoic face and icy stare failed to show it, her perked fluffy ears did.

"I see you're excited about something at least, yes-yes, you may leave the estate in due time. At first I considered after a month, you do need to rest, and readjust to society. Your social graces could use some work to say the least, and I'd rather you be comatose before you leave the house in…"

He gave her a once over and used a limp hand gesture to address her outfit.

"Whatever the hell that is."

"It's what I went to jail in, ass."

"Now let's not make excuses for your god awful taste in fashion, dear. It's not your fault your invalid of a mother couldn't impart any sense of style on you. For fucks sake she was a goddamn tailor, it was the least her selfish ass could've done." He snarled coldly. It seemed some things never changed, like his lax tongue when talking about her mother. Chokaria withheld the urge to throttle him, but just barely.

"Enough about that though, you really aren't ready to face the new world that surrounds you, with how the politics of our world have evolved over the last decade, and with your current mark on the civil rights aspects of the judicial system, it's really in your best interest to stay near me for the time being. If not then firmly under my heel, so if you must leave for any reason there'll be some…constrictions for you."

"Such as?"

"Well you're going to be given a lady in waiting-"

"Excuse me? Is it the 1800's and no one told me?"

"Silence. It'll simply be a woman to aid you with your wardrobe, diet, daily scheduling and classes."

"Classes? I'm no student. I’m unsure if that's what that title even means either."

"As if you'd know. You will be in etiquette along with other things."

"I'd rather be shot in the fucking face."

"Mind your tongue or you'll cease to have one, Chokaria." Matthew warned. Their eyes met in twin glares, and his never faltered once. She bit her tongue and allowed him to continue.

"In that case, if you truly refuse to learn any semblance of civilized activity, there are alternatives available to you. Though few, I assure you they will pique your interest."

"What if I don't want to do any of them?"

Matthew laughed heartily, it was genuine amusement with her. He carried on for a while until his laughs began to die down. He wiped a tear from his eye and pressed a palm to his breast.

"Oh my dear, it's so cute you think you have a say in anything."

The car suddenly stopped. They had arrived at their destination. 

"Now get out of my goddamn car."