#i'm not sure if this was supposed to be finished or not but i'm just gonna say ye

[sakumz]

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[ a. harumasa x fem reader ]

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" come on the situation isn't that bad, " harumasa says as yanagi shakes her head.

" you're right, it isn't that bad. " you mocked, " it's terrible! " you slam open the door of section six office, as all heads turn to you. what was the section one slave doing here? sure you were in charge of checking their files here and there, same with them to yours. harumasa drop the file yanagi handed him earlier upon your arrival. sweat dripping down his forehead. was it really that terrible?

" ms l/n, you reek of alcohol. " miyabi starts as she gets down from her stool, hand on the hilt of her sword as you shake your head.

" wasn't section one having a party to celebrate your newly promoted chief? " soukaku questions.

" I only drank one can, I'm not drunk! " you scold.

" anyways you're all allowed to go home, except you, mr asaba harumasa! " they didn't press further but obliged, yanagi can only pray you go easy on him.

" come on was it that terrible? " you can't help but glare dangers. his work these days are incomprehensible. he was supposed to write a report about the recent hollow case. was it that hard to recall everything from start to finish without missing any details? he didn't even describe what ethereals was in it.

" yes it was, " you jab a finger to his chest, making him fall back on his chair. he swiddle around before pushing himself to his table.

" please rewrite the report or I'll make you write more. " he sighs, playfully putting his head down. you lean down to meet his face as he close his eyes. was he going to sleep?

" hey, don't sleep, " you poke his forehead as he shot up straight.

" if you're gonna stay with me, why don't you write it? I'll tell you the details, " you can't help but let out a frustrated sigh. was he really not going to do his work? it's just one report!

" you'll be free to go if you complete this earlier, you know. "

" I don't feel like doing it... " he sighs as he place his head down again.

few minutes past as awkward silence engulfs the room, you pull the chair next to his. he's eating up your time. how can he fall asleep after a scolding? or a bickering... either way how can he sleep during a situation like this!

" hey, if you do this report I'll do whatever you want. " you ruffle his hair, as he sat straight, stretching as he look at you, eyes beaming at your words.

" anything you say? " he teased as you regret your words.

" yes anything, but you better write the report correctly and properly within one hour! " you watch as he quickly turns on the computer smashing keys after keys as he ponders in between. it's pretty comical how he suddenly wants to vanquish his report.

you glance at the clock from time to time, he's focused on the task at hand. with one final key smash, his paper was printed as he went to grab it for you. handing it over as he stood in front of you. you flip and skim through the pages, pleased that whatever he wrote at least made sense and is connected.

" well, goodjob and thanks for the report. I'll submit it for you, " you stood up as his hands quickly fly over to your shoulder, pressing you back down on the chair. he's got you trap between him.

" are you forgetting something, miss? " he leans forwards, staring into your soul as a blush finds its way over to your face. this is the first he's ever been close to you. you push the paper over to your face, trying to cover your face and calm your raging heart.

" what did I-I forget? " how you wish you didn't tell him, you'll do whatever he wants, so he'll finish his report and let you go home at least before midnight.

he pulls the paper down, smirking at your shyness or fake ignorance. you didn't forget the promise.

" I was gonna ask for a date for my hardwork but maybe a date isn't enough. " you stare at him as your blush just keeps growing. your hands starts to feel sweaty, is this guy serious?

" be my girlfriend. " he smiles as you push him off but he doesn't budge.

" I say I'll do whatever you want- "

" do be my girlfriend, " he beams even brighter if that was even possible.

" and as my girlfriend, you should give your very hardworking boyfriend a kiss for doing a goodjob on his report, " he purse his lips, making a ' muah ' sound.

maybe it's time to face the music, you do like him and you hope this isn't a prank or anything. you did say you'll do whatever and if what he says it's true he did save a lot of time from beating around the bush and confessing.

" are you being serious right now? " he stop as he looks at you offended.

" I'm always serious when it's you, girlfriend. " he winks as you cringe.

" come on, give me that kiss and we can go home! "

you close your eyes and lean in, aiming to give a kiss to his cheek but he was quick to lean in and steal your lips with his. your eyes shot open, he place a hand behind your head. when he pulls away to catch his breath, you were starstruck. he leans again as you slap your hands over his lips.

" you said a kiss. " you can't help the silly smile threatening to crawl when he pouts, shoulder dropping at the rejection. he pulls away as he stood up, taking your hand in his.

" fine fine, more kisses will come anyways. let's take you home, " he drags you away and walks you to your apartment.

when he bids you farewell at your doorstep, he did kiss you once again. wishing you a very goodnight as you said the same.

to say the least this bro won't do shit when he's feeling extra tired or lazy so you'll have to step in and reward him with kisses or hugs and mostly both. it has been an occurrence in section six almost everyday, that yanagi has to physically pry you away when harumasa can't let go of you when he hugs you. you pat his head as you say goodbye as he weeps on his desk jokingly...

[sports-on-sundays]

McLaren hat / OP81

Summary: Oscar x girlfriend!reader - You never realised how much pressure would come from simply being a Formula 1 WAG, and start to go a little bonkers with all the PR.

Warnings: I don't remember if Abu Dhabi was hot this season (probably like wasn't at all) but just pretend it was okay?, stress, kind of low self image, anxiety, taking great lengths just to feel accepted

Requested?: No

"Hey Y/n- whoa." As soon as Oscar looks up from his phone at you, his eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up.

You watch as he looks you over, and immediately say, "Does it look alright?"

"Does it look alright?!" Oscar asks, standing up right away to be in front of you. "Y/n, you look gorgeous." He steps closer, taking your hands, looking at your tight, short black dress, leather boots, and (of course) the McLaren hat upon your head.

"You sure?"

"What do you mean, 'you sure?'?! Of course I'm sure!" he says with a little smile, his eyes returning back to your gaze. "But what made you decide to dress like a model today, anyway?"

You smile softly, glancing away, feeling comforted by his validation, before saying with a little shrug, "I don't know. Just felt like it." Most of the time, you just wear casual clothes: a McLaren shirt and hat, white jeans, and maybe sunglasses. So you can get how Oscar would be so shocked. You suppose you just weren't expecting this much of a reaction.

He brushes your cheek, saying, "You did your makeup differently, too, didn't you?"

"Yeah... is it too much?"

"Not at all. It's bold, but I like it."

You nod with a little relieved sigh. "You sure?"

He nods confidently. "Positive."

"Oh, good," another little smile creeps up on your face. "That's good to hear. Well, I guess I should leave you to your duties now, Oscar. See you later!" you begin to turn around to leave, but he suddenly grabs your hand to pull you back.

He gives you a quick kiss on your cheek and mutters, "Have fun, beautiful," before letting go of your hand again and letting you walk off.

"Oh! Oscar! Don't you think I would look pretty in this...?" you ask excitedly, tugging his hand, holding up a top on a clothes hanger. It's been two hours already of you dragging Oscar from store to store, buying and trying on clothes, simply because you wanted to apparently 'get more nice clothes to wear to F1 races,' and Oscar hasn't had the heart yet to suggest finishing up.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I think you would..." he says, a bit distant, before snapping back into it and saying, "But red's not really your color. Not that you don't look good in it. You look good in everything you wear. I'm just saying-"

"No, no, I get it... I just remember Alex wearing something like this..."

"Alex?" Oscar asks, confused. "Alex who?"

"Oh, you know. Alexandra," when he just proceeds to look even more confused, you add, "Charles's girlfriend?"

"Oh..." Oscar nods as he realizes who you're even talking about, and shrugs, before saying after a few seconds, a bit confused, "Well, of course she'd be wearing red. She's Ferrari."

You crinkle your nose. "Do you really expect me to wear bright orange, Oscar?"

He snorts and says, "No. All I'm saying is that maybe she just wears red for Ferrari. I don't know, I'm not paying attention to her. I only pay attention to you, and though I think you look beautiful in red or not, either way, all I'm saying is that it's just not your color. Besides, you told me to be honest at the beginning of all this. I'm just trying to do what you want me to do. But in then end, I don't really care what you wear; you look amazing either way."

You frown, and suddenly groan, "I wish I looked good in red!"

Oscar smiles, still a bit confused at this complaint. "Why?" he asks earnestly.

You shrug, glancing back down at the shirt. "I dunno. Because Alex looks so good in red."

Oscar cocks his head a bit, apparently still not really understanding. "Who cares what Alexandra looks good in? Because I certainly don't."

You sigh, getting a bit exasperated. "I don't know! I guess I'm just trying to look pretty on the paddock, but I look sucky in all the lovely styles that everyone else always wears!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Oscar says, his hand immediately going to your shoulder. "First of all, you never, ever look sucky, no matter what you're wearing. Second of all, in my opinion, you're always the prettiest in the paddock, no matter who's there. And third of all, who says you have to wear the styles everybody else is wearing? I think your current style is perfectly lovely and fine and beautiful, but even if you do want to change it up, you can find your own. Or invent your own. You don't have to copy Alexandra, or whoever else."

But you only hear half of what he's really saying, and register nearly none of it, and the moment he stops talking, you hold up yet another red top (that honestly doesn't really look that different to Oscar), and say, "How about this one? It's a different shade," holding it up to yourself.

Realizing that this really isn't a battle he's going to win, Oscar just sighs, smiles, and nods, saying, "Actually, yeah. I like the fit would be good. And this color suits you a bit more, too." To him, it looks like the exact same color.

You grin, seeming much more pleased, "Oh, good! Can I go try it on?"

Oscar sigh a bit, smiling and shaking his head, murmuring, "M-hm, sounds good. Can't wait to see it on you, beautiful."

As you walk off to the changing room, Oscar thinks he hears you murmur something about how 'maybe you should just go more for Carmen's style.' Oscar's eyebrows just scrunch together at that, and as he sits down outside the changing rooms to wait for you to come show him, all he can think is, Maybe that's just the way girls are, and I really don't understand them after all.

The excitement of having some of the prettiest girls in the paddock complimenting your outfits is almost too much. The girls that you admire so much.

The ones that handle the fame and attention so well.

You feel like you're already doing better with all that stuff. Once you're convinced you look good, which usually takes at least a half hour of switching outfits, at least twenty reassurances from Oscar, and at least one outside person complimenting your appearance, you feel like a different person.

Like you could conquer the world!

Well, Oscar's not a very sensitive person, nor overly perceptive. It doesn't bother him that you seem to be a bit preoccupied. Not really. Sure, there are some times he wishes you were around when you're not, like you used to be, but he doesn't take it personally. He wants the best for you. And if the best of you is to distance yourself a bit in order to find yourself, or whatever you're doing, he trusts you. As long as you keep saying there's nothing wrong, and you're all good, he'll keep being the first person to believe it.

He just keeps sort of ignoring his intuition telling him that something is just off. Because you're not just growing. It's almost as if you're changing into a new person. Not the girl he asked out years ago. Not the girl he's fallen in love with. On the outside, on the paddock, in public, with all the cameras on you, you seem like the bubbly, friendly perfect type of girl with everything all right. You've never really been that type. Of course, you've always been happy, and to him, you're just perfect. But you've never been so camera hungry and extroverted like you seem to be now. You seem so confident in yourself, it almost seems fake. Though Oscar would never dare consider that thought anymore. It's just that in private, you seem to be the polar opposite of that: tired, quiet, let down. It's like the balanced girl he knew that was consistent nearly all the time has just switched to opposite extremes in different situations. And, well, Oscar has no idea why. He'd be lying if he were to say he wasn't concerned.

But he also can't see any way it'd be right to bring it up.

He just kind of misses the way it used to be. The way you used to be.

"Oscar!" his thoughts are suddenly interrupted by your voice and your footsteps entering the room. It's the early morning before he has to head to the paddock to begin the last race weekend of the season, and he's been laying in bed on his phone for a few minutes, waiting for you to get out of the hotel bathroom so he can have a quick shower.

"Yes?" Oscar asks, setting his phone down as you enter the room. You enter the room to show him your clothes, feeling slightly nervous, and unsure, like countless times before.

You twirl in your outfit, which consists of a white strapless top, dress pants, and black high heels. "How do I look?"

This has been going on for months, now. Probably about half the season. And in that moment, it just kind of snaps in Oscar's brain, and without thinking, and without being supportive like he always is, he decides that today, he's going to be honest. "Well, you look gorgeous. As always, of course, Y/n." He sits up and slips off the bed, before continuing practically, "But how thick are those pants? It's supposed to be killer hot today, and I'd hate for you to cook in those. I mean, they do make you look killer hot. They do look nice. And the high heels are lovely, but you always talk about how much your feet hurt after wearing those. Especially out on the paddock? And," he adds, reaching you, so he's nice and close to you, before picking up his McLaren cap off the hotel nightstand and sticking it on your head, "When did you stop wearing this hat, hm? I always thought you looked adorable in it."

You stare at each other for a few seconds, as if neither of you were expecting all that to come out of Oscar's mouth.

But what happens next is about the last thing Oscar would expect.

You take the hat off your head, throw it at his feet, turn on your heel, and walk straight out of that hotel room.

It all happens so fast, Oscar doesn't even have a moment to register what just happened and call you back before the door shuts behind you.

Ten unread messages from Oscar, and you don't even know why you're so mad, but the last thing you want to do right now is see him.

The first thing you want to do is think through it. Convince yourself he's wrong, and you're right.

He wants me to be a certain way for some reason, and it bothers him that I'm becoming who I want to be? So he just likes an ordinary girl with ordinary looks and ordinary fashion and an ordinary personality?

The truth is, you have no idea why he'd want that more than what you're trying to be.

Maybe he's just controlling? He just wants control over what you wear and how you act? But for the years you've dated him, he's never displayed qualities like those.

Then what is it? your brain screams, and for some reason, tears begin to fill your eyes.

And that's when a whisper of a thought dares to say, Doesn't Oscar want the best for you?

Is doing all this really the best for you?

But all the PR and popularity with fans it's brought you... it's so... validating.

But also so exhausting.

And when you come home at the end of the day, don't you want nothing more than to just take that mask off and destroy it?

You know how fake it is. It's like you work every day to make your mask become your face, but that will never happen, and that's painful.

You were happier before, but your outward 'success' was, like, close to nothing.

Do you really want this?

Can you even give up now?

With all the validation from the fans and media?

Maybe Oscar was a bit much today in the hotel. He was. But maybe he had a point, too...

It's like you can't stop. You keep it up for the rest of the weekend, even to Oscar, now, pretending everything is okay, and it's too much.

But you can't stop.

At the end of the weekend, though, after it's all said and done and you've had enough and all you want is to go to sleep and let your dreams sweep you away, everything in you wants to break down.

You need to be alone.

You need to be alone so you can finally be real.

And, of course, when you walk into the hotel room, there Oscar is, sitting by the window.

Just looking out of it.

"What are you doing?" you demand in slight confusion.

You see him look at you in the reflection of the glass. He doesn't even turn around.

Is this all I am now? Merely a reflection in the glass of the person I was to him?

"Looking out the window, and you?"

"That's all?"

He nods, before finally glancing back at you. Showing you his real, handsome face.

It's late, so late.

He just won his driver's championship, and all you want to do is fall apart.

Why isn't he more happy?

Probably just tired.

And here you are, with your nerve, saying, "Oscar, would you mind leaving?"

You see his eyes flash in confusion in the glass. Fear, even, maybe for just a second. He stands up and faces you, his hands going to your shoulders. "Leaving?"

"Just for... a bit."

"Why?" he demands.

"I need some alone time."

He stares, his eyes softening further, before murmuring, "Since when have you ever asked me for that? How many times have we been alone together?"

"Aren't I allowed some privacy, Oscar?"

"Isn't your whole life privacy, by now, Y/n?" It's not an accusation. It's a desperate question, that you have no answer to.

Because you don't want to say yes, but you can't say no. "Please, Osc..." you murmur, trying to keep it together. "I need this time."

"Darling..." he whispers, like a silent prayer.

Your stomach lurches. Why is he calling me that?

Doesn't he only talk like that when he needs me?

"Oscar, listen..."

"Please..." he whispers. "Let it go. At least for me. Don't you see this isn't good for you?"

"Oscar, I-" your voice cracks.

He sighs. "We don't have to talk. We don't have to lay together, or sit together, or be next to each other. We could be on completely opposite sides of the room as each other." He gulps, before adding, "Just let us be alone together. Like we used to always be, when it hurt, and we needed alone time, but we knew we'd both always be there when the other needed it. It's starting to feel so lonely out here without you, darling..." he stroke your cheek gently.

You gulp, fighting back tears.

"Take off those shoes, go put on your pajamas. Just relax, beautiful. Let your cover fall. I don't ever want to forget the you you are without it."

"Do you want me to cry?"

"Never."

"Then why-"

"Because I'd rather you cry if you need to than hold it in and let it rot the inside of you, love."

Love.

"That's the first time you've ever called me that..." you murmur as you slowly lean against the bed to slip off your shoes.

He smiles softly, which surprises you.

You quickly slip on pajamas, before crawling into bed, and murmuring, despite yourself, "Can you come over?"

And in seconds, Oscar's crawling into bed next to you, tucking the two of you in.

"Hold me."

"It's my pleasure," he responds softly, gently pulling you into his chest.

You lay there like that for a while, before whispering, your voice so weak, "Oh, God, Oscar... I'm so, so tired."

"I know you are, darling. I know." He kisses the tops of your head.

Your voice cracks a bit, and this time, you let the tear fall. "I just... I just felt like maybe I should've... been more like them. I'll admit it, I got jealous."

Oscar strokes your hair.

You swallow. More tears fall. "I just guess I felt like I wasn't good enough, but they all were."

"Good enough for what?"

You stare, the question lingering like a germ in the air. "For the media. For the fans. For every single person watching me every single race weekend."

He kisses your nose. "Pressure got to you. Did you ever feel like you weren't good enough for yourself?"

You swallow, shrugging. Nod a bit.

He sighs softly, nodding. Takes your hand and begins whispering, "I want you to know. You're worthy of every single kiss, every single hug, every single sigh, every single tear. You're worthy of every single star in the sky, every single drop in the ocean. You're worthy of laughter and sunshine and so, so much love. You're worthy of..." Oscar trails off, suddenly feeling an unexpected wave of emotion hit himself, before he gains his grip once more again and continues with, in merely a soft whisper, "You're worthy of all the joy and goodness in with world. And you'd know that if you knew how much joy and goodness you project into the world, without even trying, without even thinking about it." He swallows to keep his voice from cracking, and finishes with, "Please know, no matter what happens, or whatever anyone says, I'll always love you for who you are. I'll always be here to be your home. I want you for everything you are, and nothing that you feel you've ought to be. Because to me, you're perfect just the way you are. That is the kind of worth you have, and I wish you could see that, too."

The moment the last beautiful whisper of a word exits his mouth, you break down, fall into him, and cry. And he whispers about wiping away every single one of your tears, because you deserve none of the pain you're going through.

The fact that you've done all this, and brought it on yourself, and hurt him, and he stills says this.

Once your tears have subsided, Oscar smiles a bit, looking into your eyes like you're the most beautiful sunrise, or sparkling dew fresh in the morning, or the glimmer of the sun on the ocean, or any other beautiful thing that could fascinate even the coldest of people. And he whispers, wiping away the last of your stray tears, "Dress for no one but yourself, love. Be who you are. Because whatever you want to wear, you'll stun me. And I love you for exactly the person you are, nt the person you feel you ought to be. Whether you're in an evening gown with the most beautifully done makeup, or in your pajamas with tangled up hair, to me, you'll always, no matter what, be the most gorgeous, amazing, beautiful, perfect woman I have ever set my eyes upon."

Your breath catches in your throat. "Oscar, you..." You're utterly speechless.

He holds you close, and for the first time in months, you feel a certain peace envelop you.

You feel like you're home again.

Maybe all you needed was a good cry and the most perfect boyfriend any girl could ask for.

As your exhausted body gives itself away to slumber you hear Oscar murmur after gently kissing your scalp, "Can't wait to see you in my McLaren hat again, darling."

And you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

[aniesvision]

𐂂 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕- 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝑺𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝒇𝒘𝒃, 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆, 𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆! 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔, 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒔 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐, 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈? 𝒊𝒅𝒌

𝚊/𝚗: 𝒉𝒆𝒚𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒂 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝒈𝒊𝒇𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒂𝒍𝒍! @faithlia 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒖𝒑 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒑𝒐𝒗𝒔, 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆'𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓'𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒐 𝒈𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒌 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍! 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒖 ♡︎

Reader|Chris|Nick|Julie(reader's friend)

This is getting out of hand. One of these days someone's gonna walk in and see us like that, hear us, or find out. He acts like he isn't the one making sure to tell me every time that this needs to stay between us. Calling me to his room when I'm over to kiss me, looking at me way too much when we're out with friends, slapping my ass when no one's watching.

It's not a bad thing, though, me and Chris get along pretty well and even when we need to keep things friendly it isn't that hard. What's hard is keeping this a secret when he makes no effort to keep his hands to himself.

-Your brothers are waiting for us upstairs. -I mumble against his lips, trying to push him away.

-Let them wait. -He trails kisses down my neck, hands firmly caging me in between him and the wall.

I tilt my head to the side, knowing it was wrong, but not strong enough to allow myself to make him stop. We hear footsteps getting closer, knocks on the door and an angry Matt yelling on the other side.

-We need to go. -I whisper, when I hear Matt climbing upstairs.

-I know, just one more. -He smirks down at me, leaning closer.

This time I shake my head and place my hands on his chest, giving him a warning look.

-We'll get caught if you keep doing shit like this, we need to go, Chris.

He rolls his eyes with a huff, taking one step back, but standing too close for me to walk away just yet.

-So what? Gonna act like you don't like the idea of getting caught? -He raises an eyebrow at me, suggestively.

That was the first time I lost my patience with Chris, forcing my way out and grabbing my purse, rushing to the door before he could stop me.

I didn't think much about it, days passed by and we were okay again, with no mentions of what happened. Until something similar happened again.

-Fuck, you look so hot right now.

He lifts his head to eye me up and down, setting his phone down on the bed and manspreading. I finish applying my gloss and take one step back, turning my body slightly to check if everything is in order.

-You're gonna drive me crazy tonight. -He shakes his head, using one hand to adjust his hat.

-Is that so? -I ask, with a smile, but not giving him too much attention since we were already kinda late and I wasn't ready.

It's one of our mutual friends' birthday party and it's supposed to be a big thing, he rented a mansion and a lot of influencers are going. I wanted to look nice, so I took my time.

-Mhm. -He hums in response, standing up and placing his hands on my waist.

-Can you help me with this? -I ask, handing him my necklace.

He wasn't even trying to hide how turned on he was, his bulge poking me as he pushes my hair to the side, leaning closer to prop kisses on my neck.

-Chris. -I warn him, doing my best to ignore it and put on my rings.

-Yeah? -He asks, smirking against my skin and nibbling it softly.

I sighed, knowing the necklace was the last thing for me to be ready and he was prolonging our time here on purpose.

-We're almost an hour late. -I let him know, giving him a look through the mirror.

He smiles at me, turning me around and kissing my cheek.

-Fine, but when this party's done you're all mine.

He finally helps me with the necklace and we rush to Matt's car, my mind repeating his words nonstop. It didn't exactly bother me to hear him saying that, he meant he wanted me for sex and that's all, what bothered me was seeing how he was acting in public.

Making sure to get me drinks, whenever we were separated he was looking at me from the other side of the room, whenever another guy tried to make a move he showed up and wrapped his arm around my waist.

-What the fuck is wrong with you tonight? Why are you acting like that? -I ask, pulling him to an empty room when he was already getting on my nerves.

-What do you mean? -He asks, crossing his arms and leaning against a wall.

-You're ruining my chances with any and every person who tries to talk to me, people are going to think we're together. -I mirror his action, crossing my arms as well, arching my eyebrows in confusion, my tone full of frustration.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes and looking away from me.

-We're not, I just don't think those guys could be good for you. -He shrugs, speaking in a calm voice, but firm.

-It's not like I'm going on a date with any of them, I just want to enjoy this fuckin' party. -I sit down on the bed behind me, frustrated.

-I'm right here, though. -He says, stepping closer slowly, letting his arms fall to his sides.

-Yeah, but we can't do this in here, we said only when it's just us, no public spaces, not getting caught. -I remind him of the rules we made.

Keeping eye contact while he leaned closer knowing I couldn't kiss him and let him ruin me was the most difficult thing I've ever done, but I knew I'd regret it too much later, so I didn't give in.

-It's just us in here. -He points around, showing the empty room.

-Chris. -I sigh, hating this. It was too risky.

I'm fine with what we have, but he makes it so hard to keep it going. Not telling anyone was a mutual agreement, both of us have our reasons to not want people to know about our not-so-friendly case.

He nods, walking away without even looking at me again.

-Whatever, fuck whoever you want.

With that, I was alone in the room. It took me a while to process what happened and get out, trying to act normal throughout the rest of the night. I didn't even look at Chris anymore that day and he didn't talk to me when we were back.

It's not like I can be mad at him for too long and vice versa, but it did take longer for us to let it go and talk normally again. It wasn't the same though, since we don't share our feelings we keep the hurt and anger to ourselves and this kinda thing only leads to one thing... Explosion. When we can't hide what we feel, can't resolve the problems, can't share what's making us uncomfortable one day it just simply explodes and we find ourselves talking too much.

-Are you almost done? -Nick asks, not taking his eyes off his phone as he texts whoever.

-Yeah, just need my lipgloss.

I look around, not finding what I need, my brain giving me a hint of where it could be, already making me nervous.

-I think I left it in Chris's room last time I came over, I'll be right back. -I warn Nick, leaving his room and going downstairs.

I take deep breaths all the way down to Chris's room and knock on the door before stepping in, seeing him in his bed, also on his phone. He looks up at me, but doesn't look so interested, so I just make my way to his bathroom to find my lipgloss.

-You look nice. -He says, in a low voice not to startle me, leaning against the door.

-Thanks.

"Nice" is not something he usually compliments me with, which makes me feel weird. Being around him is not the same, but being alone with him is even worse.

I finally find my lipgloss and use his mirror to apply it, trying to end this moment as soon as possible. But, of course, Chris just can't stay quiet.

-Are you still mad at me? -He asks, getting closer and resting his chin on my shoulder, wrapping his arms around me.

I sighed, knowing what he was doing and not sure if I liked it or hated it. I set my lipgloss on the countertop, looking at him through the mirror.

-I'm not mad at you, I just hate whatever this is. -I explain.

He frowns, turning me around and pushing my hair back, immediately leaning to press kisses on my neck.

-Sorry, just can't stand the thought of you with another guy. -He mumbles, nibbling my skin.

-You shouldn't mind, it's not like you want me to be yours. -I close my eyes, trying to keep my posture, but the smallest touch of him still drives me insane.

-You're already mine. -He smirks at me, finally pressing his lips against mine.

There goes all the effort to put on lipstick and gloss.

Chris kisses me hungrily, hands exploring my body as I tangle his hair and pull him closer. Everything in me screamed that this was a bad idea, especially since his last words. I'm getting out of here hurt again, I just know it, but I can't seem to stop it.

One of his hands slide under my shirt, squeezing my boobs and holding my waist possessively, the kiss became more urgent, almost needy, but we had to stop when we head knocks on Chris's door.

-Hey, are you guys ready?

Chris rolls his eyes, slowly stepping away.

-Yeah, I'm just fixing my hair, you guys can wait in the car. -I yell, turning around to the mirror.

As I fix my lips and hair the fast as I can, Chris keeps his gaze on me.

-Here, I need to clean this off you. -I say, seeing the lipgloss on his cheeks and chin.

He nodded, letting me do it without saying anything, and when we were finally ready to go, the bomb was thrown.

-Just to make it clear, you're mine, but we're not together.

I stop on my feet and turn around, confused, the smile that was on my face immediately fading.

-What?

-We're not a thing, I know Julie's gonna be there, don't go tell your friend about it or whatever, we're not anything serious.

I scoff, crossing my arms and tilting my head, looking at him in disbelief.

-You just said I'm yours, you're the one apparently wanting this to be more, I'm more than aware we're nothing.

He steps closer, a serious expression on his face, positioning his hands on my hips like he wasn't just being absurd.

-Not nothing, it's not like you can go around flirting with other people, we're just not together. -He says, like it was the most normal thing ever, passing through me and going to the car.

That's it. I just can't believe how insane he is. He thinks it's okay to say shit like that? To mess with me like that?

When I was about to leave his room, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I see two texts from Julie, one in our group chat with Matt (he made it to talk shit about his brothers with us one day and we never stop talking in it) and one in our private chat.

Julie: I FUCKIN' HATE MYSELF I WAS MEANT TO SEND IT TO YOU ONLY

Confused, I opened up the group chat, and saw the problem. It was a photo of her, well, her boobs to be more specific. It was normal for us to send some photos like this now and then when we were feeling more confident and wanted to just share it between girlies, but well, Matt's not exactly one of the girlies.

I send her a text back, rushing to the car and noticing Matt's pink cheeks, internally laughing at the situation and having an idea out of it.

We get to the mini golf, walking to find Julie on a bench waiting for us. She immediately pushed me with her to the bathroom, leaving the guys to find us a table and start a game.

-I can't even look at him! What if he hates me now? -She paces, desperate.

-He doesn't hate you, he'll be fine, you'll be fine.

-Shut up, I'm far away from fine, what if he thinks I'm ugly?

I lean against the wall, raising an eyebrow at her.

-Why do you care what he thinks?

She stopped pacing, looking at me, and with just one look I realized what she meant.

-You like Matt. -I point at her, giggling at my new discovery.

-Shh, no, I- yes, kinda. -She rolls her eyes, embarrassingly leaning against the counter.

That was the perfect opportunity for both of us.

-Okay, well, why don't we test it out to see if he likes you too? I can pretend to be flirting with you so we see his reactions.

It was not all about her and Matt, but she didn't need to know all the details.

She nodded, agreeing to my plan, and we got back to the table with the boys. I sit next to her, trying to act normal along the night and placing my hand on Julie's leg every chance I have. I got too close to her, looked at her lips like I wanted to kiss her and tried my best to act like it was all real flirting.

It didn't take too long to get a few reactions, not only from Matt, who looked like he was putting dots together and clenching his jaw when I got too close to Julie, but from Chris, who didn't even try to hide how mad he was.

The rest of the night passed by, the flirting continued until we dropped her home and got back to theirs, where I was supposed to stay the night in Nick's room.

Before I could follow Nick to his room, Chris's hands pulled me with him to his, closing his door behind us.

-What was that? -He asks, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at me.

-What was what? -I ask, playing dumb.

-Are you fucking kidding me?

His face had a mix of anger and disbelief. I give him a fake smile, tilting my head.

-I have no idea what you're talking about.

His jaw clenches and he kicks off his shoes, throwing his hat somewhere and pushing me to his bed, crawling on top of me.

-Flirting with Julie? Which part of "you're mine" you didn't get?

Seeing him all mad at me was making me feel things I shouldn't, and I hated myself for smirking up at him.

-The part I'm yours. -I tease, knowing I was playing with fire, but it was inevitable.

-Guess I need to remind you who you belong to.

His lips were immediately on mine, kissing me hungrily and eagerly. He pins my hands above my head, making sure I can't move, exploring my mouth with his tongue. He only pulled away to lower his kisses to my neck, nibbling my skin and keeping my arms pinned with only one hand so he could use the other to explore my body. He was about to lift my shirt so he could take it off me when we heard the door opening.

-Chris, she's supposed to stay the night with–

Nick's words were cut off by himself when he saw his brother on top of me, his eyes widening and jaw dropping in shock.

Chris quickly rolled to the other side of the bed, my heart beating so fast that I could barely believe what was happening. I knew this was going to happen someday, I just knew it, and yet I hated myself for being right on this.

-What the fuck? -Nick asks, looking between me and Chris.

I sigh, still a bit breathless due to what was going on just seconds ago, running my hands through my hair to fix the messy strands as I try to think of a plausible answer. And, for what seems to be the first time ever, I wish Chris would just start yapping until Nick forgot what he saw.

-How long has this been going on? -Nick asks again, still waiting for a response.

I looked at Chris, he was sitting by the end of the bed, jaw clenched. I told him a million times we were going to get caught if he kept doing shit like this when there were chances of other people barging in, and now he's mad like I haven't warned him.

-Can you just leave? -Chris finally says something, looking at his brother.

-Not until you explain what the fuck I just witnessed.

I sit upright on the bed, looking between them and noticing Chris didn't want to talk at all.

-A couple months. -I say, bending my knees and hugging my legs.

Chris looked at me like I was crazy, not expecting me to say something, but his eyes soon softened when he realized what was happening. We got caught, it's all over.

-Months?! -If Nick wasn't shocked already, he definitely is now.

Silence. I don't know why it was so hard to explain things, but I guess it's because there wasn't exactly something to explain, it was pretty much obvious.

-So are you guys secretly together or what?

Well, not so obvious. I never thought I'd hear this question and no response came to my mind, so I looked at Chris, who was already looking at me.

-Not exactly. -He says, in a low voice, almost like he was unsure of his own answer.

Another moment of silence, not even Nick had something to say.

-Can you just give us a second? -Chris asks, looking at Nick, who just nodded and immediately left the room.

As soon as the door closes again Chris moves closer to me on the bed.

-It's over, isn't it? -He asks, giving me a look that for some reason I knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Here are the rules: no talking about this to anyone, it needs to stay in between us, so we'll only do anything when no one's around, no getting caught, or it's over, anything else?" "Nope, I guess that's it"

-Yeah, it is. -I say, feeling strangely upset.

He nods, knowing it is for the best, taking me by surprise when he pulls me into a hug.

-I'm sorry, I haven't been too nice to you, I'll be a better friend now. -He whispers, making me smile.

As I walked upstairs to Nick's room I couldn't stop thinking about what happened. He apologized, he said he'd be better, and he hugged me. It felt like so long ago since we last hugged before that, truly hugged.

-Are you okay? -Nick asks as soon as I open the door.

-I'm okay. -I smile at him, sitting on his bed.

-Can you explain everything to me now, please? -He asks, really needing to know what he just saw, and I can't blame him, I'd be wanting information as well, so I tell him.

-Yeah, this can not happen again, one of you will get hurt, I can't believe you guys kept this for so long!

-I know, it won't. -I say, smiling at him.

But it did.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ✍︎

➪ @riowritesitall @sturniolosarethebest @hyacinthst @deers4luv @sturncakez @watercolorskyy @delooshunalhoe @sarosfilms @blahbel668 @sturniyolo69 @sturniolosl0t @colbsposts00 @fallingforfalll2 @stvrnmc @faithlia @katie-tibo @monroesturnns @mattnchrisworld @shaquilles-0atmeal @fratbrochrisgf @dayzeandhaze @phimstarz @h3arts4harry @star-yawnznn @asherrisrandom @pip4444chris @sturniolo-fann @beansprout713 @conspiracy-ash @sturnsxbitvh @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh @larallott

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— 「 FAKE IT TIL YOU MAKE IT 」

fake dating/christmas party/hurt/comfort ❄️ leon secret santa ❄️ gift for @mydarlingclaudia

MERRY CHRISTMAS MISS CLAUDIA i'm your secret santa! i've wanted to write og4 leon for this blog for a while and when i got you for secret santa i was like IT'S TIME lmao. i hope you enjoy and i hope you have the best christmas!

wc: 5k

summary: leon's in a bind. he thought he would have a love life by christmas, but the holidays have rolled around and he's still single. you'll pretend to be his date for just one night, right?

content: fake dating, real dating, coworkers, christmas parties, mistletoe, lots of late night conversations, lots of self-doubt, secret loser leon, technically post-re4. divider from @/strangergraphics

Over the past year, you've discovered that Leon's really good at pitching a fit when he doesn't want to do something - or, at least, when he thinks he doesn't want to do something. He'll bitch and moan about being tired, about how he just wants to stay in and have a 'chill date' with some old movie. No amount of assuring him that he would have fun once he got there would make him stop dragging his feet. That very night, you’d been waiting for him at the door with arms crossed, already decked out in your Christmas sweater, cheap reindeer antler headband affixed to your head.

Leon lets out a quiet puff of laughter when he slouches into the room, looking considerably less festive than you. He takes in your appearance - your tacky sweater, your headband, the way you pout and tap your foot impatiently. How, exactly, was he supposed to take this seriously?

“What, no one let you play any reindeer games?” Leon quips, taking his sweet time putting his shoes on.

You roll your eyes. When you finally manage to get him out the door, he has a blast. You know it, he knows it - this part is just mandatory torture, a bonding experience he loves to put you through.

"We go, we say hello, we leave." You assure him. “We don’t have to stay long.”

Leon might buy that at this moment, but you know the second you step through the door, you won't be leaving that Christmas party until the very end. Two hours in, you would be ready to go and Leon would be having the time of his life. You would be tugging at his sleeve, checking on him:

Ready to go? No, sorry, hun. Let me finish my beer and we can go. 

Like clockwork. You weren't even sure he knew that he did that.

The Christmas music on the radio doesn’t do much to assuage his mood. He’s pouting the whole drive over. As soon as he pulls up to the house, he repeats the same mantra:

"We get in, we say hello, we leave." His hand smacks against the steering wheel to emphasize each point in the plan. You already have your door open, swinging out the side and marching up the freshly shoveled sidewalk.

"The decorations are so cute," you coo, crouching down to examine a particularly adorable light up gingerbread house - and to give him time to catch up.

Leon guides you up from the ground with a hand hovering behind your back. He herds you further down the sidewalk, still eager to get this over with. By the end of the night, you would be the one begging him to leave, but for now, you let him grouchily jam the doorbell.

Warmth floods out to greet you when Claire opens the door, the scent of cider and cinnamon rushing up to usher you in. Claire coos over your outfit, clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

"I should have put more effort in," she says, the pom of her Santa hat bouncing against her cheek. She's otherwise under dressed for the occasion, choosing comfort over festivity.

"What? No. Look at this place. You did all the decorations. That's way more effort," you counter, toeing off your shoes and stripping off your heavy coat.

Claire laughs. "I made my brother do most of it."

"Good to see you, too, Claire," Leon says, bristling over being ignored. She waves her hand, half hello, half dismissing him, and guides you further into the house, pointing you to the refreshments and giving a quick tour of the decorations.

Wherever Leon slinks off to, you're unconcerned. You have catching up to do just as much as he does.

Claire pops her hip up against the drink table. You twist the cap off your beer. Claire fishes one up for herself and pops the lid off against the table in one fluid motion. You huff a quick laugh - her party, her rules.

"So," Claire starts, leaning back against her elbows and surveying the crowd. She tracks your eyes for a moment, watches you watching Leon across the room. "I’ve been wondering. How did you guys actually meet?"

"What?" You laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. You take a drink, buy yourself some time to feel out Claire's intention.

"Well, obviously, the first story you told me was a crock of shit," she laughs.

You can't argue with that. The first time you had met Claire, you had been masquerading as Leon’s partner, sparing him the embarrassment of turning up to her Christmas party alone. You hadn’t exactly announced to his friends that your first time meeting them had been a lie.

"I didn't lie," you point out. "Not totally."

"A lie by omission is still a lie."

"We actually did meet at work."

Claire rolls her eyes. She won't put up with this for long. “I mean, I buy that. But he absolutely did not charm you over the comms on some classified mission.”

There’s no part of you that wants to argue in Leon’s defense. He was a nightmare to work with, knew just how to get under your skin, and you were more than happy to have Hunnigan continue to babysit him.

“If you really want to know…”

It was the Wednesday before Christmas Eve when Leon's coiffed head popped up above your cubicle. Never a good sign. Where he went, trouble (and acclaim) followed. You filled in for Hunnigan once when she was out with bronchitis, and now you can't get rid of her puppy. He keeps coming back, a particularly malignant tumor that metastasizes over the walls of your cubicle, spills onto your desk and messes with your letter trays.

“You busy?” His arm slings over the top, hand drumming against the wall of your cubicle.

Stay strong, you think. Try not to move. Play dead. Maybe he'll get bored and move on. You try to type faster and only wind up jamming the keys down harder. Leon drums his hand quicker, rhythm irregular.

“What does it look like?” You bite out.

Mission failed. You weren't trained to resist torture like he was. In fact, you specialized in answering stupid questions and pointing out the obvious. It was a key component of your job.

Leon’s job, apparently, entailed blatantly ignoring hints. He swings into your cubicle, brushes aside a stack of documents to sit on your desk. His forearms balance on his thighs, hands held together between his knees. 

“I need a favor.”

It just gets worse. What kind of favor could Special Agent Kennedy possibly want from you, and why did you have a feeling that it was going to be off the books?

"If I'm doing favors, I'm staying clocked in," you drone.

"Not possible for this one," he shrugs. "Sorry. I'll make it up to you."

You roll your eyes. Silence stretches between the two of you, filled only with the intermittent clicks of your mouse as you try to track down the most up to date geospatial information for your assigned agent - you know, the one you're actually supposed to be dealing with. 

Leon's both annoying and persistent. He shakes his fringe from his face, stretches out 'so...' into an elongated, cowish sound that sets your teeth on edge. You roll your hand, gesturing for him to continue.

"I need a date," he blurts out. He's smart enough to continue speaking quickly, hand already raised - palm outward, begging for peace. "Not a real date. Just for a couple of hours, for a party. We go, we say hello, we leave."

A beat. You give him time to throw in a ‘just kidding’. God knows you aren’t throwing him a life preserver. When he twiddles his thumbs, content to sink instead of bail himself out, you scoff. You don’t even look up from your computer. 

"That is, by far, your worst line."

"I’m serious. Please. Just a couple of hours. That's all I'm asking. You don’t have to talk to me ever again."

Your eyes cut over to him. Not a single smug smirk in sight. You're almost surprised by the pleading hiding behind his eyes. You take it all in, try to assess him for any hint of deceit. You only find the bags under his eyes, darker than you'd seen before.

“Go alone,” you shrug.

“I can’t. I’ve been –” Leon stops. He sits up tall, peers over the top of your cubicle to see who’s around. Meerkat is a good look on him, his nose sharp in profile, brow furrowed and focused. You avert your eyes back to your computer. He lowers his voice, his eyes still flitting around for eavesdroppers. “I’ve… exaggerated the truth about my love life to a few friends. I promised I would introduce them to someone at this party.”

You note the desperation, try to stay impartial. You're good at that part, too. Trained for it. He’s in a bind of his own making. Some humility would do him good. You’d be doing him a favor by making him own up to his lie.

Your gut flips when you consider his proposal. What was this, high school? Why could he possibly need a fake date? It was so immature, you almost couldn't believe it.

Another thought burns at the back of your mind, keeps you wary. You can't help but feel used. What, he was fine pretending to take you out but couldn't conceive of actually asking you to go to his stupid party? It had to be fake, a preservation of his ego. You weren't even a part of this equation.

You should say no. You should leave him high and dry, make him look like an idiot in front of his friends - because that's what he is. An idiot. An idiot who can't get an actual date to save his life.

"Match my salary, then we'll talk."

Leon groans, head flopping back against your cabinets. He’s considering it, you can tell.

What’s the harm in it, you wonder, casting him a sidelong glance. It would be nice to have something to do on Christmas Eve.

"You owe me for this. You're gonna pick me up."

Leon's eyes light up. He hops off your desk, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. You hold up a finger to stop him before he can talk himself out of this.

"And you're gonna buy me dinner."

"There's food at the party."

"Good food?"

"If you don't like it, I'll get you something on the way home."

That's more like it. You spin back to face your computer, pulling your report back up.

"Deal. What's the dress code?"

Leon's silence speaks volumes. He's completely helpless when it comes to the details. You had figured someone with his looks had a social life that was bursting at the seams, that he was taking the fat field agent paycheck and he was hopping from party to party.

It's at his friend's house, he explains. You note the hesitation before he says 'friend'. Maybe it is all a front. Kennedy can't really go home to an empty apartment and a silent phone, can he? Everyone made him sound like such a big shot. You didn't expect the snapshots of your lives to be matching photographs, a wide shot when you held them next to each other. You try to picture his living room and all you can envision is a beige box.

You wring what little information he has out of him with a series of direct, probing questions. You're both comfortable in this routine. The quick, perfunct back and forth, an exchange not unlike one you might have over comms. He scribbles his number onto a sticky note and slides it over to you. You’ll work out the details of your story later, make it bulletproof.

The idea has been ghosting around the crevices of your mind for the entire day. You force yourself to wait a little longer before calling him, give him time to get home and get settled in. Trying to do the same is fruitless. Your appetite has mysteriously vanished, your Wednesday night show not catching your attention. You choke down half a bowl of cereal before you drum up the courage to call him.

"So, how did we meet?" You start, skipping past hello.

"Work."

"Going with the truth on that one?" You toss a piece of popcorn into your mouth, eyes fixed on your show.

"Helps to sprinkle the truth in with the lie, right?"

You can practically hear the grin on his face. You roll your eyes and bite back a sharp response. No need spoiling the mood immediately. You already agreed to do this. You won't make it harder than it needs to be.

"When did you ask me out?"

“Does that seriously matter?”

Of course it matters. Leon’s completely useless at this kind of thing, it turns out. You had expected more. He seemed the type to have experience. Maybe your own naivety had caught up to you. His confidence had you fully convinced that this would be a cake walk.

Was this seriously the guy who had single-handedly rescued the president’s daughter a few months back? Because he was floundering when you asked him if he had met your parents yet.

“Do you want me to meet them?”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, “No. They would eat you alive.”

That one stays in the story. It’s too believable not to. You bet Leon makes a real fool of himself in front of parents.

That’s where you went wrong. As soon as you started to rationalize what a relationship with him might look like, to add that touch of realism that would sell this story, you were fucked. He indulges all your questions and your musings.

Thursday night, you call him to ask what shows you watch together. He doesn’t see the point, doesn’t get that TV is such an important, ritualistic component of a relationship - or,  at least, one that you want. He lets you pick, snorting in surprise when you name a dating show on VH1. You assign him homework. Watch the newest episode the Sunday before the party, and you’d fill him in on the details on the ride to the party.

Friday, you ask him what pet names he wants to use. He flounders again, acting dismissive in a way that you’ve now identified as embarrassment. You bite back the urge to tease him and offer up some suggestions instead.

“‘Babe’ is fine, I guess,” he says, “but I’m probably just going to call  you by your name.”

When you hang up that night, you wonder if he meant it. Babe fits your perception of him from a week ago, but now you aren’t so sure. You turn the question over and over in your head for the next day, trying out different names in his voice. Something simple and classic, maybe. ‘Honey’, or ‘sweetie’.

The question is still turning in your mind when he calls you on Saturday. You don’t have a chance to get your question out. He blindsides you with his own.

“Have we said ‘I love you’ yet?”

Your mind races to catch up. Had he? No way. He mumbled when he got off the phone sometime, but there was no way that was an ‘I love you’. There was no way. It hadn’t even been a full week yet.

Then it clicks for you. Right. This is fake, all of it. Every phone call was for his benefit. You had initiated all of this. You should be happy that he’s finally contributing to the planning. You feel sick to your stomach instead.

“I don’t care,” you say, entirely nonchalant, none of it forced. The silence hangs over the line. You pray for Leon to let it go, to give you the grace that you haven’t given him.

He’s smooth with it - doesn’t point out the strain in your voice, blames it on a bad connection. For once, he takes the reins. No ‘I love you’ yet. He’s working up the courage, he says, and your heart clenches, breath catches, head spins.

You make an excuse to leave early. He reminds you to tune in for your show tomorrow. You hang up without saying goodbye.

He picks you up just like he promised. As much as you’d wanted to wear the silly, light-up Christmas sweater at the back of your closet, you couldn’t. You couldn’t show up as his date looking like that. No one would buy it. You already look out of place on his arm.

You’d expected the car ride to be awkward. The last time you’d seen him in person had been when you struck this whole deal. Instead of rehashing your story, though, Leon asks you question after question about the dating show you told him to watch.

To your surprise, he’d actually watched it. You go over the contestants, the washed up rock star they were all attempting to date, even recap the most notable drama. He’s hooked. The veneer of disinterest he tries to keep up is so thin it’s see through. You almost want to tell him to turn the car around so you can catch the reruns instead of suffering through this party.

You don't know what kind of party you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. Every corner of the place was saturated in Christmas, inside and out. Garlands of popcorn and dried orange slices, a tree decorated so heavily with strands of lights and garish ornaments that it's branches sagged. The warm lights bathed everything in a smooth glow. The chill that had stung your face on the walk in melted away, leaving only the pulsing afterburn across your cheeks.

Plenty of people had already arrived - thank god. If you'd had to make awkward small talk with the host until people arrived to take the heat off of you, you might have just said fuck it and marched back to the car. You keep a firm grip on Leon's arm, eyes flitting across each and every face. You didn't recognize a single one of these people.

That's precisely why Leon chose you. It makes your stomach lurch to think about. You're convenient. A face to put to a title, to apply to the vague stories that Leon has fabricated. Anyone could be on his arm right now, and it wouldn't make a difference. No one would know.

You stay glued to his side for the first hour. It works well enough, a handful of people overjoyed to meet you after all the stories that Leon’s told. You do your best to keep the sparkle in your eye, to look at him like he makes the sun shine. It’s hard when it feels like the floor could open up and swallow you at any given moment, when each affectionate touch is just a tool.

You excuse yourself for a drink. That will help your nerves. It can’t make them any worse, that’s for sure. You have a clear window, the drink table empty. In and out, then back to Leon’s side.

Fishing up a beer from the ice chest, you scavenge around for a bottle opener. Christ - all these preparations and no bottle opener? You’re tunnel-visioned into your search, don’t even notice the woman joining you at the table

“Want some help with that?” A redhead chirps, sidling up to you. She holds her hand out for your drink.

What’s the harm? You pass it over with a ‘thanks’ that quickly turns to a sharp inhale. She pops the lid off the beer with the edge of the table, tears a jagged crescent through the plastic tablecloth - cut one of Santa’s reindeer clean in two.

“My party, my rules,” she laughs. “I’m Claire. You’re with Leon, right?”

Your stomach drops. You can practically peer down at yourself, your soul leaving your body for a brief moment. Shit– Leon had warned you about her. Said she wasn't malicious, per se, but she could sniff out bullshit quicker than most. You run the facts back in your mind. If you could get past her, you'd be golden.

Claire's finger bounces between you and Leon. She leans her hip against the table, folds her arms across her chest.

“I don't get that at all,” she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head. “What's the story?”

Holy shit, that was quicker than you expected. Stay cool. Remember your lines.

“We actually met at work,” you start. Easy enough. It’s not even a lie. You unravel the rest of the details for her one by one, plodding through the steps of your imagined romance with deliberate care.

Claire’s eyes stayed fixed on you. She smiles and laughs where appropriate, but she tracks you with the cold eyes of a wolf on the hunt. A chill pulses down your spine. Is it really so hard to believe that you’re with Leon? Do you look so out of place?

“Good for him,” she finally says. She takes a long drink, still watching you.

“He’s great.”

“He’s okay.”

Maybe she meant it as a joke, but you have to force your laugh out from around the lump in your throat. Did she buy it? You can’t tell. She claps you on the shoulder, harder than you expected.

“It was really great to meet you,” Claire says. She slips back into the crowd with a smile, flowing naturally into a group of guests. Your eyes linger on her, but she doesn’t look back. She doesn’t slip into hushed whispers, no one turns to stare in your direction.

You wind back through the crowd, glue yourself back to Leon’s side. He lifts his arm instinctively, curls it around your hip like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He doesn’t even pause his conversation.

How is this the same clueless man that you had spent half a week planning out every minute detail of your imagined relationship? How can he be so relaxed and in control now?

That’s the difference between the two of you, you realize. There was planning, and there was doing. Clearly, Leon could see his commitments through. You were botching this. Everyone knew you were a fake. They had to.

“You okay?” Leon asks, head inclined closer to your ear. You swallow thickly, force a smile.

“Are you about ready to go?” You ask, keeping your voice low.

He’s not - you can tell - but he tosses his snack plate in the trash and says a round of goodbyes anyway, urging you out the door.

The car is silent. Leon flips through radio stations, never staying on one for long. Christmas music, rock ballad, regular ballad, Christmas music again - repeat. He fidgets with the vents, turns the heat up, then down, one degree at a time.

"Seriously, you good?" he asks.You keep your face turned to the window, watching the decorations roll by.

Leon glances at you - or that's what he thinks, at least. His eyes linger for too long. He corrects his course sharply, swerving away from the curb at the last possible moment.

"Yeah. Fine."

Neither of you believe that. You’ve spent the whole night lying - he knows what it looks like, and he lets you get away with it.

Leon turns the music up a tick. You spend the rest of the drive in silence. He pulls up in front of your place and cuts the engine, and that has to be the record for world’s most awkward drive.

Bundling your things in your arms, you hurry out of his car with a quick ‘thanks for inviting me’ that feels misplaced given the circumstances - but what the hell else were you going to say? You needed to sleep this whole thing off.

"Hey."

You stop in your tracks. You're almost positive you've left a drag tail in the snow, stopped so fast you nearly slipped on the sidewalk. Leon's window is rolled down, his body nearly halfway out of it.

"I appreciate what you did for me tonight," he says.

Your heart deflates, a balloon released in your chest, bouncing off your ribs and drumming against your lungs before it floats pitifully to a rest in the pit of your stomach.

"No problem," you say, shoulders back, head held high. "To be honest, I didn't think anyone would buy it."

His head tips to the side. His eyes narrow, studying you, trying to figure out your meaning.

"Why? You did great."

"I don't know. I didn't think we would look like a very believable couple."

He sticks his head back into his car, fumbles with his seatbelt overlong, and finally pops the door open. His feet find traction on the icy sidewalk much easier than yours. You chalk it up to his boots, his training, anything to keep your mind on the little details instead of the big picture.

“I thought it was pretty believable.”

Don’t read into it, you tell yourself again and again. It’s just going to hurt if you try to interpret greater meaning from that.

“Yeah? Glad I could help.” You hook your thumb over your shoulder, fishing clumsily for your keys. “Guess I’ll see you at work, then.”

Leon’s eyes cut back to your door. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, balanced perfectly on the ice. For a moment, you think you see his hand twitch towards yours. You linger, waiting for the touch of his hand around your wrist, willing the warmth that you imagine to be real.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets and nods.

“Yeah. See you.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Claire interjects. “He didn’t even ask you out that night? He walked you to the door and bailed?”

You shake your head. “I asked him out like a week later. We were working late on New Years. He said he knew a great spot for coffee if I wanted to go on break. I said we could only go on our day off.”

Her eyes sharpen, casting her hunt out into the crowd of party-goers. You find Leon first - hunched over a snack platter across the room, contributing minimally to conversation with some people from Claire’s work. Claire, experienced hunter that she is, tracks your sight to find her quarry.

“He is so stupid. So dumb. Look at you,” she declares, waving you up and down - presenting you. “He made you ask? Ooh, I’m gonna – Leon!”

Leon’s head pops up from the cheese tray - meerkat chic, swiveling in the direction of the woman on the hunt. Claire points to the ground in front of her sharply, doesn’t even have to bark out ‘c’mere’ before his training kicks in and he’s marching himself over.

“What’s up?” He pops a palmful of cashews into his mouth, then slides the same hand against the small of your back.

His casual attitude earns him no favors. Claire thwacks his shoulder, berates him for making you ask first. He shrinks away - play dead. You taught him that one.

“You ready to go?” You ask once Claire’s done ragdolling him and marches off to tell the others how spineless Leon is.

Leon surveys the party - that’s what you think he’s doing, at least. His gaze is focused higher, examining the doorways carefully. His eyes sharpen, lock on their target. He nods, his thumb rubbing gentle arcs against your back.

“Yeah. Let’s head out. Wait for me in the hall, okay? I’ll get our stuff.”

You follow his directions thoughtlessly, planting yourself in the hallway he had pointed to. Leon flits about, saying goodbyes as he weaves through the crowd. Your coat is slung over his arm when he winds his way back to you.

Before you can protest, tell him he forgot your bag and your scarf, he smacks a hand dramatically against his forehead. He holds up a finger - hang on, here, take this, I’ll be right back – kisses your forehead, and floats back into the crowd.

He comes out only holding your scarf. You huff. Leon’s not a forgetful man. This is clearly on purpose, for his own entertainment. He loops your scarf around your necks for you, settling it into place and tying a clumsy knot.

“Your bag. I forgot, I’m sorry.” He kisses your cheek as he turns.

There was a twinkle in his eye when he turned. You’d caught it. It wasn’t just the shine of the lights. He was up to something. You scan your surroundings, look for cameras hidden, for guests watching a little too intently. Nothing immediately jumps out at you. You glance up - and there’s the culprit. A little branch bound with twine, berries dotting the little branches, suspended over the doorway.

Schooling your face back into mild annoyance, you go so far as to tap your foot. If he wants to put on a show, so will you.

“Here you go,” he says, handing over your bag. You wait for his next move. No way this was the end of his plan - and you’re right. As soon as your bag is slung over your shoulder, he’s patting himself down. Front left, front right, back pockets at the same time, chest at the same time. “Shit. My keys. One second–”

You kiss his cheek before he can strike first.

“On the key rack,” you point out, hooking your thumb over your shoulder. “It’s bad karma to abuse the mistletoe, you know.”

Leon huffs. He spares the mistletoe above your heads a glance.

“You made that up.”

Absolutely, you did. He crosses through the doorway and snags his keys. Before you can head out the door, he dangles them over his head. You roll your eyes and kiss him square on the lips before he can justify his poor man’s mistletoe.

You’ll risk bad karma for a kiss.

[plaidos]

i don't know how many people still keep an eye on the gamergate anti-feminists. for a long time, one of the common arguments against having a female main character in a triple a game was "how am i supposed to relate to a female? i'm going to be taken out of the game and won't be able to enjoy it." it's a hollow critique, obviously, because that's not actually what the complaint is. it's a cover to absolve them from being called bigoted or misogynist or whatever. because being called (bigot/racist/misogynist/homophobe/transphobe/transmisogynist/etc.) is so much worse than any actual bigotry.

not sure why i thought of that. anyway, "it's not that deep, let people have their own headcanons because transmascs like thinking of their favorite characters as transmasc" is a fucking embarrassing take. there's so much joy to be had with engaging in art critically. starting and finishing with "i like this character, therefore my headcanon is that they're the same as me" is just a wilful refusal to engage and will never be as interesting to talk about.

oh sooooo true anon!

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

With Vander

|| Vi x fem!reader

|| Warnings; slightly altered story, just before Vi leaves to go to Vander, reader begging Vi to stay, Vi being blunt with Powder, what ifs, mentions of death, scared reader, teasing between Vi and reader, Vi blaming herself

|| Summary; when Vi's about to set off to find Vander, reader tries to stop her and ends up staying behind with Powder.

Requests open!!

Started; December 24th

Finished; December 24th

HurtCember2024; Day 22, Don't Leave

~~~

What was she thinking? You looked absolutely dumbfounded as you stared at Vi. Watching her getting ready to leave and go find Vander. Everything in your gut was telling you this was a bad idea. Vander wasn't the type of guy to do something without reason, if he put himself up like this... there was no telling what kind of situation they'd find themselves in.

"Vi, wait- don't leave," it was a pathetic beg and you knew it. But you just... you couldn't let her go. Something was going to go down. You didn't want her getting caught in it. What if she didn't come back alive? What then?

Vi turned to look at you, a frown on her face as she saw the fear in your eyes. Couldn't you understand? Understand how she was feeling? She had to go. It was supposed to be her. Not Vander. It was her fault he was taken," I have to. Stay here, I'll be back. With Vander." There was an overwhelming sense of determination in her eyes. How could she be so sure? You couldn't even see a single flicker of doubt.

"Vi..." You murmured, praying to whatever Gods were listening that this wasn't the last time you'd see your girlfriend. You really, really hoped it wasn't. You'd already had your future with her planned out. She couldn't leave before it even really started.

"I'll be okay, cute face. Stay here with Pow, okay? Keep her safe for me," Vi cupped your cheek. Her words soft. If Vi was afraid, she was clearly doing a good job at hiding it. Her lips met with yours. You held it for however long you could before she pulled away from you. Giving you one last confident smirk," I'll be back, alright? So, don't worry."

"I'll always worry about you. You're such an idiot," you tried for a laugh. It came out more forced than you'd intended.

"Well yeah, but I'm your idiot, aren't I?" She winked at you and your cheeks flushed.

"I love you, you dork."

"I love you too... bigger dork," Vi nudged you with a teasing grin and you swatted her arm, earning a laugh from her. Powder walked over to the two of you, her eyes looking just as determined as Vi's.

"I wanna help," Powder declared. You shared a look with Vi. She was too young. On top of that, there were just too many risks with this one.

"You're going to stay behind with Y/N, okay Pow? We won't take long," Vi crouched down to her sister's height. Giving her head a playful rub. Messing with her hair.

Powder didn't seem to happy about that," but-"

"No buts this time. You're not ready," Vi was blunt. Probably the bluntest you'd heard her, at least towards Powder. Her sister was usually a soft spot.

You got down to one knee, cupping the kid's cheek with a smile," we'll have fun. How about... you take me to the little secret arcade you guys got? Beat me at some shooting games. Again."

Powder seemed to consider it for a moment, Vi gave you an appreciative look and started to leave," I wanna go with Vi!"

"You're staying with Y/N, that's finale." Then the three of them left. Leaving you alone with Powder.

"I'm going with Vi. You can try to stop me, but it would be better just to help me," geez. Powder was more determined than her sister. You sighed, watching the little blue haired girl get one of her monkey bombs.

"Pow... we shouldn't go-"

And she was already off at a run.

"Ah- hey- POWDER!" You bolted after her.

...we all know how the rest goes.

[backseatsoldier]

Home for the Holiday

Pairing: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Reader/You CW: Mispronunciation of Gaelic words; CUTE MUH-FEKKIN' FLUFF! Author's Note: Happy holidays to ME- and all of you! Thank you for reading and engaging. I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season <3

For Christmas I decided to send myself "home". As in Scotland, the place I'd never been but that I was always drawn to. It always felt like home, so why not treat myself for the holidays, you know?

Somehow, my gift to myself led me to Fiona - the owner of the bed and breakfast I'm staying at - inviting me to her White Elephant party. I suppose the theme of the party helps. I don't know anybody attending so I just need to get a silly gift to (hopefully) make people laugh. Everything was fine and going smoothly... until now.

"Shit! I'm so sorry!"

I'm now on my knees on a snow-covered sidewalk and trying to scoop up my White Elephant gift after running directly into...

"Alright, lass?"

Fuck me... he's a local.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm ok," I assure him and I reach for the goofy gift.

"Is this... a..."

Before he can finish his question, I'm desperately shoving the joke gift - a Highland Cow tail butt plug with a pretty Christmas bow attached to the end - back in the bag. Why couldn't it have been in a discreet box?!

"It's for a White Elephant party," I say quickly once it's back in the bag.

Finally, I look up.

Oh, he's... painfully pretty. That just makes this worse.

"What about this guy?" he asks with a lopsided smile as he holds out the Highland cow plushie I bought myself.

"He's... for me," I say quietly and gently take the plushie back, tucking him into the top of the bag.

"Got a theme going there, lass," he chuckles.

"Figured... it might make my life a bit easier to stick to some kind of theme, y'know?" I offer softly and stand, hugging the bag to my chest.

"You sure you're alright? Didn't hurt yourself or the coo when you fell? And I'm sorry too. I wasn't paying attention."

I shake my head quickly.

"No, no I'm ok. So is the, uh, cow," I tell reassure him with a small smile and brush some snow off the cow's fuzzy head. "I should, um, get going. I'm sorry, again. And... nollag kridel."

"Nollaig Chridheil, lass," he chuckles knowingly.

"Oh my god," I whisper as my head falls and my eyes go wide. I didn't even pronounce it correctly! Without another word, I turn quickly and fast-walk away.

"You made it!" Fiona exclaims and throws her arms around my shoulders. "Get in here," she says as she pulls me into her house. It's literally just a private entrance to the bed and breakfast.

Within a few moments I'm in the building, my (wrapped) gift is under Fiona's tree, and a cute elf hat has been placed on my head. Fiona gently sets me on the couch next to- oh, no. Nonononono-

"Oh, so you're the surprise guest Fi was raving about," Painfully Pretty laughs loudly as I beg whatever higher power for a black hole to swallow me up.

"Yeah," I give an awkward laugh, "that's me. I guess."

"You two know each other?" Fiona says as she hands me a hot chocolate.

"We bumped into each other yesterday in town. And the Highland coo," he chuckles.

I should have wrapped the cow. I should have wrapped the cow. I should have-

"Oh, that adorable plushie you walked in with? I was wondering where you got 'im. Cute little Christmas sweater and all," Fiona laughs - very similarly to Painfully Pretty.

Conversation shifts off of me and to other guests who are still arriving by the minute. Soon enough, Fiona's living room is packed full of people and one dog. His name is Riley and we made fast friends. I, admittedly, have been hiding in the corner hanging out with him most of the party so far.

"Time for gifts! Johnny, help me get these piled in the center of the room," Fiona demands of Painfully Pretty. Apparently his name is Johnny.

Once all of the gifts are piled where Fiona wants them, we all migrate to the surrounding furniture. She gives us the rundown for how the gift exhcange works and we all begin drawing numbers from a Santa hat. When it's my turn, I grab a random gift and begin opening it.

It's a... Highland cow in a holiday dress and crown.

"Aw! Now your other guy's got a friend," Fiona announces excitedly.

I smile softly at the plushie and smooth out her dress.

"Yeah, I guess he does," I agree and smile at her.

"You should name them," Johnny suggests with a soft look in his eyes.

"I think I will," I nod and smile at him.

When the exchanges comes to an end, Johnny lingers in the living room with me.

"I was hoping you'd be the one to choose her," he says quietly. "Was worried she would be chosen and unappreciated until Fiona dragged you in here."

"You... brought her?" I ask, looking up from the plushie in question.

Johnny nods with a gentle smile.

"Glad the lad won't be lonely this Christmas. It was nice to meet you, officially," he says softly, lopsided smile lighting up his face.

"It was nice to meet you too, Johnny. Thank you for Christy." With a small smile, I hold up the plushie and tap it's nose to the end of his.

"Nollaig Chridheil."

"Yeah, I'm not trying to say that again," I insist with a giggle.

He laughs loudly.

"Why not? It was so cute when you said it last time."

I can feel my face warm at his words and his smirk.

This year's Christmas gift to me might turn out better than I originally expected.

Scottish Gaelic Translations (per Google Translate, apologies if incorrect!)

Nollaig Chridheil - Merry Christmas

CoD Christmas (Meet) Cuties Masterlist

[degrees-of-seracchii]

Sydney's lines for being gifted food!

These are taken from the game's code as it will take me a gazillion years before I get all the ingredients and recipes necessary

Naturally, spoilers under the cut! Please do not proceed if you wish to see it for yourself ingame, and I do recommend so!

If Sydney is gifted apple crumble:

Sydney's eyes widen sharply. "Is that apple crumble?" <<He>> puts <<his>> hands over <<his>> mouth, having said that much louder than <<he>> intended.

"Sorry. Apple crumbles are my original sin. You made this just for me?" You nod. <<He>> immediately starts to dig in, showing little regard for the mess <<hes>> making.

Once <<he's>> done, <<he>> looks down at

If the current location is in the library:

the desk in shame. "One moment." <<He>> stands up and walks away, returning shortly after with a broom.

If the current location is in the Temple:

<<his>> robes in shame. <<He>> stands up and brushes <<himself>> off. "One moment." <<He>> walks away, returning shortly after with a broom.

You chat while <<he>> cleans up after <<himself>>. "I've got a really bad sweet tooth, as I'm sure you can tell. My <<sydneyOtherParent>> made the best apple crumble." <<He>> stops what <<he's>> doing, looking upwards in nostalgic bliss for a long moment. "Sorry. That was really good! So good that it reminded me of better times." <<He>> sits back down.

If the PC is dating Sydney

<<His>> face flushes. "Th-that being said, I wouldn't trade the life I have now. I have you, after all." <<He>> kisses you on the cheek. "Thank you, beloved. That made my day."

Otherwise,

<<He>> looks around nervously for a moment, before hastily planting a kiss on your cheek. "Thank you for that. It means a lot to me that you'd put so much effort into something for me." <<His>> face is bright red.

If Sydney is gifted spicy food

If the current location is in the library

Sydney's eyes widen. "Thanks, I could use

If it is early in the day, specifically at dawn

something to get me through today's work!"

Otherwise,

something to keep me going!"

If the current location is in the library

Sydney tilts <<his>> head. "We're not supposed to bring food in here, but I wouldn't want your hard work to go to waste."

<<He>> carefully takes a bite, making sure to keep <<his>> robe/the desk clean. After a moment, <<his>> face begins to turn red. "Oh... oh! Hot! Too hot!" <<He>> begins to fan off <<his>> face with <<his>> hands. Despite the reaction, <<he>> continues eating it.

If the PC is dating corrupt Sydney and Sydney have already had their first kiss

Once <<he's>> finished, <<he>> gives you a mischevous grin. "That was a nasty trick, you know." <<He>> slowly stands up. "I'll have to pay back such a scheme in kind." <<He>> grabs the sides of your face, and pulls you into a kiss. You immediately get to appreciate just how spicy your dish was as <<his>> tongue swirls around yours. You pull away from each other, both of your faces still red. "Thanks for the food, love."

Otherwise,

Once <<he's>> finished, <<he>> cleans <<his>> hands with a handkerchief and smiles at you. "Thank you, but a warning would be appreciated next time!" <<He>> says a short prayer/starts to get back to work.

If Sydney is gifted a drink:

If the current location is at the temple:

Sydney's eyes widen. "Thanks, I could use

If it is early in the day, specifically at dawn

something to get me through today's work!"

Otherwise,

something to keep me going!"

<<He>> intermittently sips on it while praying. <<He>> looks very silly doing so.

If the current location is in the library

Sydney tilts <<his>> head. "Did you make this? We're not supposed to bring drinks in here, but I wouldn't want your hard work to go to waste."

<<He>> slowly sips on it as <<he>> continues working.

"Cooking is one thing, but it takes talent to make a good drink like this."

If the PC is dating Sydney:

<<He>> gives you a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, beloved."

Otherwise,

"Thank you for being so thoughtful. Everyday kindness like this makes the world a brighter place."

If Sydney is given any other food in general:

If the current location is in the Temple:

Sydney's eyes widen. "Thanks, I could use

If it is early in the day, specifically at dawn

something to get me through today's work!"

Otherwise,

something to keep me going!"

If the current location is in the library

Sydney tilts <<his>> head. "We're not supposed to bring food in here, but I wouldn't want your hard work to go to waste."

<<He>> carefully takes a bite, making sure to keep <<his>> robe/the desk clean. "This is... really good.

If the PC is dating Sydney:

Do you think you could give me a few tips? I'd like to get better at cooking myself! Then I could cook something for you.

Otherwise,

Have you been working in the soup kitchen with River?

<<He>> finishes it, and says a short prayer/starts to get back to work after cleaning <<his>> hands with a handkerchief.

If the PC is dating Sydney

If Sydney is Corrupt:

"You're smart, you know that? You know the best way to a <<boy>>'s heart is through <<his>> stomach."

If Sydney is Pure/Neutral:

"Thank you, beloved. You always know how to put a smile on my face."

<<He>> gives you a kiss on the cheek.

If PC is not dating Sydney:

"Thank you for being so thoughtful. Everyday kindness like this makes the world a brighter place."

[five-and-dimes]

Kitties 😸 and adpotion....please?! 🙏🏽

Yessss this is the one I'm trying to finish before the new year 🤞 so thank you for making me work on it lol

Eight days later, Hob’s one “heavy” cat has turned into five. Hob is currently crying, and he has no idea why. He’s not *sad*, he doesn’t think. He’s… overwhelmed, he supposes. He is sitting cross legged in front of his closet, staring down at his cat, J2 (Johanna II, much to human-Johanna’s dismay, but the fact was his cat was a bit of an asshole and it just fit too perfectly), and the four tiny, squirming bodies curled up by her belly. The sweater she had pulled off the hanger and chosen to give birth on is definitely ruined forever but Hob doesn't care. All Hob can think is that if he had *known* he would have gotten her something better. He literally had an appointment to take her to the vet to get a checkup and all her shots *tomorrow*.  He’s afraid to touch them. They’re so *small*. So small and fragile. Hob had wanted something to take care of but he was realizing right now, crying on the floor in front of a litter of kittens that were probably an hour old, that this was absolutely too much for him.  Sniffling, Hob allows himself to flop backwards. He lays on his back with his hands over his face as he cries and listens to the soft little mewls coming from his closet. He’s not sure how long he lays there, but his tears have slowed by the time he feels his hair being tugged. Moving one hand away from his face, he is met with the sight of J2 sitting beside his head, licking his hair.  Hob giggles, “Hey,” he reaches out to scratch under her chin, “I know I’m acting like a baby, but you’ve got *actual* babies to take care of.” Her only response is to start chewing on his fingers. “Ouch! Augh, okay, okay!” He pulls his hand back, trying to pout but only laughing.  Sitting up, he watches J2 slink back to her kittens, curling around them in a soft, protective wall. Hob was still overwhelmed, but he was also smiling. He could do this.

[crsssie]

its the most wonderful time of the year

decorating home/sickfic/civilian!reader || LSS gift for @delphi-shield

Summary: deck the home with warmth and laughter, falalalalalalalala

"Really, Claire. It's fine." You wrap the garland around the porch. "He's busy. I get it."

"Yeah, but it's not really an excuse for it." She mumbles. "I'm sorry, I really did try and convince them."

"It's alright." You sniffle. "I'll just rest up at home. Even if he comes late, it's fine." 

"And you're working up a cold! Ugh. Where's the man of the house when he's supposed to be helping you?" She mumbles. "I'd drop by, but Chris is kind of..."

"It's fine." You laugh. "I'm not dying."

"Are you sure? It's so snowy in the neighborhoods. Isn't the snow stacked up already where you are? And you're out on the porch? Ugh, wish there was an HOA service for shoveling snow off the driveways. They only do the streets." She sighs. "Oh, Chris is calling. Call me if you need anything! Happy Holidays!"

"Happy Holidays." You laugh. "See you around."

You sneeze as soon as the call ends, and you glance at the finished porch. 

Really, it's a shame Leon isn't coming home until a little bit later. It's cold and lonely alone, but you suppose you knew it was coming when you first got married to him.

The ring makes your ring finger feel extra cold. Stupid metal.

You kick the plastic box back inside and shut the door, glancing one last time at the wall of snow that's built up around your porch. Even if Leon wanted to come home, he'd probably have to stay out. No way he would be able to get through all that snow. 

You reach for the mistletoe and get the hook ready, humming slowly to yourself as you twist the hook into the hole as you peel back the tape. A fun little tradition. Most couples walked in together anyway, and on occasion there would be two unfortunate souls. It's not like you were really enforcing it as a rule anyway. You bring a folded chair over to get the final bit of the screw into the door.

The mistletoe glimmers under the houselights, and you step down from the chair after hooking it on.

The front door jingles with the sound of keys, and you spin around with the chair in hand to a sight of a very sweaty Leon and a hole in the snow.

"What— oh, oh my god? What? HELLO? HI?!" You gasp, tossing the chair as your arms find themselves around Leon's neck, and he laughs, squeezing you back. "How did you get here? You're supposed to be back tomorrow? What?!" 

Leon's laugh rumbles through his chest to yours, and he rests his cheek in the crook of your shoulder. "Hi sweetheart."

"Oh my god!" You pinch at his cheek, eyes sparkling as he hums. "Did you dig through the snow? Honey, we're snowed in!"

He glances up at the mistletoe and presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

"You were snowed in. Nothing stops a man from getting to his spouse." He hums, raising a brow at the color on your nose. "Have you been sniffling?"

"A little. Just winter chills."

"Oh, sweetheart." He mumbles, hauling you up into his arms as you yell.

"Wait, wait, Leon the chair."

"No. I was about to start on the tree since I finished the porch."

"I'll deal with that later." He hums. "I'll shovel out the driveway too. Did you run up a fever?"

"No, just chills. I'm just congested and sniffly." You hum, and he presses his forehead to yours.

"You're fine. At least you're not burning up. Did you make yourself a cup of tea?"

"Leon, I'll be fine. I just need—"

"I'll get you a cup of tea, light the fireplace, and then you can tell me which ornaments go on the tree." He hums. "I know where the box is. I'm horrible at driving, not cooking."

"I'm shocked you didn't crash the car in the snow."

"Almost did."

"What."

"I couldn't possibly die before I get to see you for Christmas again." He hums.

"And if I get you sick?"

"Then hot tea on the couch for us both with the fireplace and TV on."

"Sounds fun." You sniffle. "Not the part where you get sick, though. I think I'll be fine."

"You want me to get you some ginger?"

You grimace. "...sure."

Leon hands you a glass of tea and bundles you up as he sits on the ground, pulling out ornaments from the box.

"Which ones are you feeling?"

"Shouldn't you shower first?"

"I'm clean, sweetheart. I swear." He hums. "It wasn't a mission this time. Showered at the gym before I came."

You sigh, humming as you press the tea to your lips. "I want the white ornaments."

"A boring white christmas?"

"The house is set up with white and blue this year for some reason. Maybe that's what I'm leaning towards."

"Thoughts on gold?"

"Yes."

"Thoughts on green."

"Too many colors." You hum. "Gold white and blue."

"Sounds good. No silver?"

"No. Need something warm." You hum. "The gold is a nice pop."

"Whatever you say, sweetheart." He hums. "You got a placement you want?"

"Nah. Put em where you think they look good."

Leon hangs the ornaments up, the crystal ones he got for each year on display next to them, and the crystal droplets he had made a while back when he had been bored at home over break. Leon does a lot around the house, and it seems he found joy in making things for fun. 

The mug in your hand warms your heart as you watch Leon hang everything up and look back at you for nods of encouragement and hums of approval.

"Look good?"

"Looks wonderful." You hum quietly to yourself. "Nicely done, Leon."

He walks around the couch with the box, not forgetting to lean down and catch a quick kiss before he puts everything back into storage.

"Thank you, sweetheart. Do you want anything for dinner? Did you eat already?"

"I had dinner already." You hum. "Leftovers are in the fridge."

"Alright."

You huddle on the couch and turn the TV on, catching up on a show you had missed out on while decoration, humming as Leon heats the food in the back.

"Food on the couch?"

"As long as you don't stain." You hum, throwing the blanket over his legs as you lean on him. "Anything fun happen at work?"

"Nah. Just the usual. I'm offended the president made me stay behind just to toast me in private."

"It's an honor, honey."

"Yes, but it's the handful of days before Christmas." Leon mumbles. "I'd like to spend time with you for as long as possible before they send me back to the middle of nowhere."

"Fair." You hum. 

"Did you open today's advent calendar?"

You blink at him, and he raises a brow back at you.

"Day... twenty five?"

"Merry Christmas, baby." He laughs, kicking off the blanket and putting his plate of food down. 

He hands you a box, and you raise a brow. "gold bars."

"Guess again."

"Plane tickets."

"God, how the hell do you even guess shit like that?!"

"Plane tickets?!" You gasp, tearing the envelope open as you scream. "Where the hell are you flying us?"

"To your retirement home. It's bingo time for you, sweetheart."

"Leon Scott Kennedy, if anything, you're the one who'll be stuck in a retirement home." You huff. "You and your broken joints."

"It's a box, sweetheart."

"Is it a plush." You hum, opening the box as you gasp. A weighted pokemon?!" 

Leon nods. "Saw you looking at them."

"Did you stalk down my amazon wishlist?"

He averts his eyes, and you laugh. 

"I have a gift for you too, honey."

"Is it a new watch?"

"You might want to check the garage." You kick at the blanket and take your mug with you. Leon stops to wrap the blanket around you before tugging you along with him.

"You got me something to crash again?"

"Maybe." You hum. "You'll live. Your health insurance covers everything."

"Aren't you happy one of us risks our life in our day to day to pay little to nothing for insurance?"

"Fuck, yeah." You hit the lights to the garage as Leon opens the door, and he blinks.

"My bike?"

"Not yours, but the same model and everything. I found it while I was—"

Leon wraps his arms around you, forcing the arm with the hot tea to the side as he takes it from you, letting you wrap your arms back around him. 

"You like it?"

"I love it, baby." He mumbles. "You wonderful thing. Love you so much."

"Love you too." You hum. "I bought full coverage insurance, so they'll replace it if you crash it again."

"God, I think I must've done something better than save Ashley in a past life or something." He mumbles into your skin as you laugh.

"Maybe you were a survivor of war or something." You hum, running your hand through his hair. "You like it?"

"I love it, sweetheart. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Leon."

@leonsecretsanta 2024 ❤️

[anniebeckcalla]

:fit for a princess: [na jaemin x reader]

non-idol au. wc: 2.0k cw: fluff , pet names (lots) bad language, slightly suggestive. ✿﹒

calla's note: this was meant to be a 200 word drabble, but it never rains it pours :( it took me an embarrassing 4 hours to finish this. anyway I hope you like this (I have @mejaemin pooks in mind as I write this because she wanted something with nails)

You took a deep breath to control your anger as you stood in the high street. Despite your gorgeous appearance in your fur coat, hoop earrings, vintage tracksuit, and golddigga trainers, everything was going WRONG for you today.

What was the reason for your distress?

Been dumped? (No. You didn't even have a boyfriend, anyway.)

Been fired? (Ha. You weren't sure if your manager knew you existed.)

Slagged off by a friend on social media? (Not a chance. You didn't have enough friends or a scandalous enough life to be slagged off.)

No, everything was going to pot because your normal nail artist had cancelled on you and gone on holiday to the Maldives with her glamorous new boyfriend. She'd just told you over the phone this morning when she was already lounging on the beach, leaving you in this grey sludge of a country with untidy chipped nails. You were absolutely fuming. You didn't like change. You trusted your nail artist and didn't want to go to anyone else to get yourself sorted out.

One thing that you hated more than change, though, were scruffy nails. You realised that you were going to have to give up your resolve of sticking to one nail artist in order to have your nails done all nice and clean. The fact that you had no other option didn't make it any easier to accept, and now you were close to throwing a tantrum as you stood outside the rival nail shop, barely able to accept your fate.

A lady with rollers in her hair and fluffy slippers opened the door, a scowl on her face. “Well, are you coming in or not?” she snapped. You glared at her in a silent response. The lady crossed her arms. “So you're going to be like this, are you?” she laughed. “Listen, young lady. Either you fuck off our doorstep, or shift your ass inside. We can't have you scaring potential customers from coming in.” You weren't about to allow yourself to be spoken to like that. Wordlessly, you barged past her into the shop.

The shop, though you were too proud to admit it to yourself, was very lush and tidy. The floor and chandeliers sparkled, there was a member of staff at each workstation, and krnb played from a radio in the corner. “We have a spitfire on our hands here,” roller lady called out to the staff and customers. “Who wants to have her?” You glared on as all the staff laughed and shook their heads timidly. “Is this some sort of auction, then?” you snapped. Everyone only laughed louder. You were ready to leave right then and there.

“I'll have her.” A man at the corner workstation raised his hand. He had a loose black vest that showed off his tanned chest and muscles, and jet hair that curled at his neck. You felt your heart jump with excitement, but to save face, you did your best to act nonchalantly. “My normal nail artist is a girl,” you replied. The man laughed. “I can see why she abandoned you. Come here.” You cringed inwardly at his response, and decided to humble yourself a little. Defeated, you went over and lowered yourself in the chair.

“Thank bloody goodness for that!” roller lady muttered.

“I suppose we'd get along better if we started off with names, don't you think?” the man said. You stared hard at the table. “Y/n,” you muttered. The man nodded. Nice name. I'm Jaemin. You'll be telling everyone that Jaemin did your nails, that's how good I am.” You rolled your eyes, forgetting your promise to be coy. “Oh, very good. We'll have to see about that.” Jaemin chuckled, making your ears flame (you were so embarrassed for that.).

“You're funny, y/n. I like a girl who argues back. Now. Show me what you want today.” Your hands trembled as you scrolled through your photo gallery. You had no idea why you were reacting to this random man's charms like this. You could just feel it in your bones that this Jaemin man acted like this towards every girl, and felt like a simpleton for rising to the bait.

“This is what I want,” you said, holding up an image of pink acrylic nails with bows, lace, and gems Jaemin only glanced at it once, and raised his eyebrows. “Quite the princess, then?” he remarked. You shrugged, feeling like an absolute fool. “I guess it could be seen that way.” Jaemin laughed again. You noticed that he laughed quite a lot. You weren't sure if you liked it.

Jaemin angled the light on your hands. “Are you ready?” he asked. You gulped. “Are you sure you know what you're doing?” you said. “My nail artist, she's a girl, and she says that girls do nails best…” You trailed away when you saw a frown appear on Jaemin's face. “Good thing that your nail artist isn't here, then,” he snapped. Tears stung your eyes at the sudden tone, and you bit your lip. Jaemin noticed. “Don't dish out what you can’t eat,” he said quietly. “Now, are you ready or not?” “I guess,” you replied.

Jaemin opened a tin of moisturiser and spread a liberal amount on your hands, tugging at your fingers with an intensity that disconcerted you. When you looked up, he gazed into your eyes. “Bet your nail artist doesn't do this for you, does she?” he said. You were still recovering from your tears, so you stared down at your lap. Jaemin interlaced your hands with his, stretching your fingers so far you were sure they would pop. Part of you desperately wanted to complain to show how bold you were, but if you had to be honest, you were somehow enjoying it. You kept your eyes trained down.

“Does that feel good?” Jaemin rubbed your thumb in a circular motion with his own. The pace made your tummy erupt with butterflies. Damn, you hated this person for what magic he was working on you. “It's alright, like,” you mumbled. “Ah, ah. Look up at me when you're talking,” Jaemin replied. “I have no way of knowing if you're okay otherwise.” You looked up timidly, and your gaze fell on the plane of his chest that the vest did a rubbish job of covering. Immediately, you looked down again. Jaemin laughed once again. “Aww, you're shy now. I don't know if I liked it more when you were being bold. Maybe I like both.” He kneaded your palm gently.

You summoned enough courage to look at Jaemin's bent figure. Your breath caught in your throat as your heart beat faster. Damn, he was so pretty with his brows set in concentration, focused entirely on your hands. And he smelt so good. His cologne had hints of peach and caramel that curled around your nostrils pleasantly. You were catching feelings for him.

At last, Jaemin's hand massage was finished. He started to work on your nails. You felt a little disappointed that the massage was over. It must have shown on your face, because Jaemin smirked. “Sad that it's over, princess? If you liked it, you can have another one when you come back next time.” The word princess made you feel embarrassed and charmed at the same time. You bit back a smile. “We'll see,” you replied stiffly.

“So, what's she like, this nail artist of yours?” Jaemin smoothed a light pink acrylic gel over your extensions. “She's nice,” you said. You were delighted to notice that Jaemin had got the exact shade of pink right. He glanced up at you. “Why did she call it quits with you, then?" You bit back a snarl. “I said*, she didn't quit on me. She went on holiday with her new boyfriend.” Jaemin grinned. “Ahh, a boyfriend. How cute.” He reached under his desk and pulled out a small box covered In rhinestones. When he opened it, you saw that it was full of the little bits of lace and bows and gems that your demonstration image had.

You gasped. “But that's-”

Jaemin shrugged. “It was me who designed those nails that you showed me, of course. Only one other person has ever had them, and that's my sister. I don't usually repeat designs, but for the princess, I will.” You couldn't hide your smile then, and your cheeks flushed with shyness. “Thanks,” you said. Jaemin chuckled. “Aww. It's okay, girl. Look how cute you become when you're being nice.” You were so set off by his remarks that you smiled even more, not caring anymore if this was just a marketing ploy.

Carefully, Jaemin adorned your nails with the decorations. When he was done, he put your hands under a small UV light. “So tell me, princess,” he said, “if your nail artist has a boyfriend, do you have one to match with her?” You stared at the blue light, pretending you hadn't heard him. “Come on, y/n. Look at me when you're talking,” Jaemin chortled. You finally looked up at him. “No, I don't,” you sighed. You almost thought that you caught a sparkle in Jaemin's eyes, but then it was gone. “Oh,” he said. “Talking to anyone?” You laughed. “I'd be lucky if a man looked my direction, let alone involve himself in a talking stage with me,”

“I don't agree,” Jaemin replied. “Look at you. You clean up nice, you smell great, and you're very pretty.” You rolled your eyes. “Just like you say to everyone who sits in this chair.” Jaemin's face hardened again. “That's not true,” he countered. “Ask anyone here. I just say it as it is.” He called out to roller lady who was sweeping up non-existent dirt from the floor. “Don't I always say the truth, Auntie?” Roller lady nodded. “The truth and nothing else, our Jaemin. I don't know how you haven't chased out our customers with your harsh words.” “You see?” Jaemin said, taking your freshly done hands in his. You looked down at his work. It was absolutely breathtaking. The patterns and swirls were all in the right place, the lace and bows arranged delicately. Somehow, it was even better than the image you had provided.

“Thanks for this,” you said. “They're beautiful.” There was a brief silence. “Um, how much do I have to pay for this?” You tried to pull your hands out of his grasp, but he held on firmly. “It’s on me,” he said. You tried to protest, but Jaemin held his hand up. “Forget it. Just promise me one thing.” “What?” you stuttered, your heart beating two paces faster. “Promise that you'll come back,” Jaemin's eyes were pleading. It was stupid of you, but you were willing to do anything as long as he looked at you like that. “I promise I'll come back.” you breathed.

Jaemin smiled. “I trust your word.” He let go of your hands. (You made a mental note to not wash them for as long as you could.) Taking a nearby scrap of paper, he hastily scrawled on it with a black biro. “In case your nail artist is busy again, take this,” he said, handing you the slip. On it was a mobile number. Was it… “It's my number, of course,” Jaemin shrugged, a shy smile on his face.

You wished that you could control the grin on your face as your heart leapt with joy. “Thank you so much, Jaemin. For everything.” Jaemin took your hands in his again. “It's alright, princess,” he said softly. You felt as if you'd been in love with him forever. “HEY! Jaemin! Enough flirting with that girl!” shouted roller lady. “I have customers waiting to be served, and here you are lowering yourself for miss high and mighty!” The other staff tittered in agreement. Jaemin rolled his eyes. “Alright, sorry Auntie.” He made a phone gesture with his hand, much to roller lady's dismay. “Call me, okay?”

When you were outside in the street, you immediately added Jaemin's number to your phone, your hands shivering with excitement. You decided to save the contact as ‘Jaemin 🎀’. (because, you explained to yourself, of the design of the nails) After some consideration, you scrolled down to your previous nail artist's number and swiped it to the archive folder.

You wouldn't be needing her again.

and that, kids, is how I met your mother

[masterlist]

[aritsukemo]

AHHHHHHH NURSED ILYSMMMM!! SERIOUSLY I DON'T DESERVE YOUR FRIENDSHIP HONESTLY :(((

So this fic was actually never supposed to be written! It was apart of a poll I did a while back and it was literally like the least chosen option I'm pretty sure. The thing is, though Furina's fic won in the end and I finished it and posted it, I had already started on this fic while waiting for the results to come in!

..And funny enough, my first intention was to make this a like super fluffy and cute fic about two imperfect, abandoned people finding peace and love within the presence of each other but uh..I listened to this sad wanderer/scaramouche pov playlist and I was like "Y'know what would be really fun.."

I wanted this fic to be a sorta piece that when you read back on it, you notice things that you didn't before! For example, did you know that this story was told in Kabukimono's pov? :) I purposely tried to avoid telling any of the scenes through Y/n's eyes because this story was meant to show negligence. Y/n's feelings are deep-rooted, he was an outcast at a very young age and had a bunch of horrible things happen to him throughout his life. He's long had mental gripes and issues, Kabukimono just never noticed it until it was too late. He only saw Y/n in this fixed lens and the lake scene where he was making the flower crown was the first time he actually saw a glimpse Y/n as what he truly was!

As mean as it is, I wanted Kabukimono to be completely useless to the situation at hand. To me, who wrote this loosely to reference 1800 - 1900 Japan, I was thinking, "Why would Kabukimono be able to pick up on signs of depression?" Throughout the story, Y/n did and said things that showed that something was wrong but they were blatantly yet unintentionally ignored and when everything hit the fan, Kabukimono truly did not help Y/n. My intention is not to make Kabukimono a bad person, it was to moreso show how innocent actions and a sheltered mindset can be just as detrimental as having a conniving one...if that makes any lick of sense.

ALSOOOO I'M GLAD YOU LIKE THE LITTLE STORY ABOUT THE LAKE AND THE VILLAGE!! IT WAS AN INPROMPTU DECISION THAT ENDED UP STAYING- 😭 IT'S ALSO HOW I CAME UP WITH THE ENDING SO THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLIMENTS!!

AND OMGOSH??? YOU GETTING INSPIRED TO WRITE A PT. 2 OF SOMETHING I WROTE?? I'M HONORED???

Seriously though I'd LOVE it if you wrote a pt. 2 to this, I'd def peep! I plan to make my own pt. 2 eventually, but you know how that goes.. Knowing me, it won't be here any time soo I'm not gonna lie- 😓

THANK YOU FOR TAKING THE TIME TO READ THIS!! I FEEL SO SPOILED!! 😖

The Oddities of Human Nature | Kabukimono

Kabukimono x Feminine Male Reader

Warnings: Wooo, where do we start? Major character death ( Reader ), implied suicide ( It's up in arms, but there are hints in the fic that reader may have drowned themselves in a lake ), self harm implied, sexual assault is loosely referenced ( only one sentence mentions it and I don't go into detail at all as to not trigger anyone ), themes of depression is referenced all throughout this fic, lots of blood is mentioned towards the end and I go into depth ( or try to ) in describing death so gore warning, the timeline is all fucked up but for the sake of the fic making sense, this takes place before Wanderer's three betrayals, reader uses they/him pronouns, finally, long story ( around 10k words ) under the cut. With all that said, happy reading!

A/N: This was a big hill for me to cross, but I'm glad I managed to do it! I juggled a lot of elements that I'm not familiar with so I'm sorry if this is all over the place. That aside, I found that a lot of the songs I listened while I was writing matched this fic pretty well! ( ..I also realized out that I maaaayyy have spilled a a little bit of myself and my personal struggles into Y/n, but don't read into that too much, okay? Okay. ) This fic is on the darker side of what I normally write, but I hope all who peep will enjoy themselves! :D ...Now I'ma go finish this finals project I got before I fuck up my grade-

Tagging: @nursedflowers / @kazusys, and @saioratral

Humans are odd creatures. They do things that may otherwise inconvenience them for absolutely no reason.

They could have a broken leg, but will still find the time to entertain friends by going out. They could be holed up in their room doing important work, but will still stop and greet their beloved when they arrive home. They could stumble upon a body in a lake and still fish it out and attempt to resuscitate it. It's strange, but what's even stranger are those humans. You know, the ones who would do things like that for a complete stranger without batting an eye.

"Are you alright?" A soft chirp echoed—one like a feather that surprisingly didn't get swept away by the harsh winds.

It was nothing like her voice.

Upon looking up, indigo hues fill with intricate floral patterns weaved delicately in a circle. Its varying colors twist and intertwine, filling the circle and providing shade and leaving those who fall under it to marvel at its beauty—which didn't soil or gray despite the downpour of rain that hit it.

That said, having been completely consumed in the art of the umbrella, it took another soft call to snap out of the trance..only to be sucked right back into it upon gazing up.

 "I noticed that you have been sitting in the rain for quite some time now. That isn't healthy, you know?" Their voice matched their features; smooth like a porcelain doll, but not nearly as tough as one; gentle, just like the silk that covered their body.

 "Do you have nowhere to go?" Upon hearing the question, the boy’s lips—which were formerly tucked into a neat line—dipped. It was unnoticeable against his pale skin, but the tender eyes that stared down at him seemed to be sharp like a hawks' and noticed it right away.

 "I suppose that means yes."

Their hand reached out to him after saying that and he found himself leaning away instinctively, making him susceptible to the sky's sorrow which drowned his already slick hair in even more chilling rain.

He's immediately saved again, and this time, he was able to watch his savior in action as they tilt their hand, tilting their gorgeous artwork forward enough to completely shield him again albeit at the cost of their own protection.

The rain took pleasure in dousing their hair, deepening it's color a little from the sheer amount it intakes. Ultimately, it's unable to take all of it and falls down on all sides, dripping down their skin, their eyelashes, nose, and lips, to where all the water meets at a point at their chin and drops from it to the wet soil at their feet like a leaky faucet.

Nevertheless, he watched a smile stretch across their face. A sight that he had begun to believe could only look so beautiful on a wandering snow spirit.

 "Please, young sir. Come with me. I have a place that could shield the both of us from the rain for the night.."

And in a trance, he—though tentatively—reaches forward and puts his hand in theirs. The warmth that touched him in that moment immediately shattered the illusion that hypnotized him and he blinks upon finding himself being tugged along by the hand. It brought on a perplexed swirl in the abyss he called a stomach and spurred him to ask the golden question, "Why are you doing this?"

And that question earned him another golden smile, unfortunately only for a quick second when they glanced back at him. It was never answered, and despite that, it didn't bother him.

Nothing did in that moment as the only thing he could focus on was the heat that spread throughout his hand which radiated from their palm.

Humans are odd creatures. They go against the purposes given to them at birth for the simplest reasons.

 "You're a man?" Was the question that filled the silence, his words filled with his almost accusing tone at the face of their casual confession.

You didn't mind, putting on the smile of a saint as tanzanite hues scrutinize and judge you as if you were some complex painting in a museum.

 "Yes, I am," You answered simply, and he once again, eyes you up and down with eyes full of disbelief. As if you had just revealed that you had a second head or something. You weren't offended. Compared to the other stares you've been given in the past, his seemed rather merciful.

 "Why do you dress like that if you're a boy?" He asks after a while; another rather offensive question that he asks with utmost innocence.

 "Because it makes me feel nice," You reply simply, and to that, your new friend looked utterly perplexed. As if you had just given him intricate, complex instructions on how to defeat the shogunate. From that reaction, you assume he was probably raised in a rather conformist household.

That said, his genuine confusion felt like a breath of cool air hitting your face after venturing days in a scorching desert, as sad as that is to admit.

 "Where are your weapons? Your armor? Your mannerisms and speech let me know you come from a noble home, so where are your servants and concubine? What do you do for work?" He shot out questions as if he only had a few grains of sand left in his hourglass. It was like he feared that if he didn't ask all his questions now—and all at once—he'd never get an answer to them. Not that you'd be so cruel as to leave your curious new acquaintance so bewildered.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, but I don't have any such means of protection," You start off slowly, but as your eyes trail down at the two needles in your slender hands—needles which had thin threads of silk woven around the points of them—you found yourself chuckling to yourself, "Though if you'd ask my father, he'd tell you that my reason for that is because I lack the determination and courage to tread the path of a proper warrior — He was a high-ranking samurai for the majority of my youth, you see.."

"As for the servants and..consorts…they're really not my thing. I find bossing someone around and using people to flaunt my own status and wealth to be rather brutish. Though, I will admit I'm quite familiar with the practices. Heh, I was practically raised by my fathers' wives and female servants growing up. Maybe that's why.."

You pause, and in the end, you shake your thought away instead of voicing the rest of it aloud. It wasn't important to the conversation at hand anyways.

 "Digressing from that, my ways of making money aren't as noble as my family's either. In fact, one would say it's quite pitiful in comparison; once a week, I go out into the nearby town and I sell my creations. Stuffed animals, knitted clothing, excess crops, and the like. I don't make all the money in the world, but I make more than enough to get by as you can see," And you flick your wrist absentmindedly at one of the corners of your room, mindlessly gesturing at whatever filled the space to better prove your point.

Your guest had been struck silent once again. It seemed he was still rather muddled. You understand it. Like many you've encountered, you were probably an enigma to him, one willing to go against all that has been taught and practiced for centuries just because of simple ideations and pleasures that someone such as yourself should never enjoy in the first place.

..Or so you thought. As you gazed up at your guest, his face made you unsure of what he was truly thinking at that moment. It was something you hadn't seen before—unlike those judge-filled, disgusted, and even pitiful gazes you had been given by many in the past. It sparked your curiosity, causing you to ask him the golden question that had laid dormant at the back of your mind.

 "Does any of this.. Do I bother you?"

His response came delayed, but you found his answer that came more valuable than actual gold. More relieving than any cool breeze or sweet treat. More rewarding than any war won or title granted. More comforting than any of the stormy nights that distracted you from your whirlwind of thoughts.

And, oddly enough, such a response was quite simple. Only three words, in fact.

 "Not at all."

Humans are odd creatures, but they can be patient and forgiving at times. Plus, being the warm-blooded creatures that are allows them the blessing of a naturally-warm, comfortable body.

 "Crap," The cursed utterance left the lips of a mouth who's felt nothing but the bitter tang of frustration coat its tongue all afternoon. The uncivilized profanity did nothing to soothe the taste in his mouth nor did it smoothen out the crinkles made by his furrowed brows. It didn't even relieve the tremble of anger in his blood-pricked hands or the aggression of his movements as his fingertips worked a string of tangles with the needles he was holding.

Knitting is awful. How do people find this relaxing? Ever since he's started, he's felt nothing but vexation, pain, and embarrassment! Not only that, but he's made zero progress after so long that he's practically forgotten what he was supposed to be making in the first place! He hates—no, despises this with his entire being!

 "Having a bit of trouble?" He heard you ask, and somehow, half of his stress fell away like a slab of rock on the side of a mountain just from hearing your voice. He doesn't get why you have such powers over him seeming as you're a complete stranger. ..Was your voice charmed by some kind of magic perhaps? Were you possibly a god in disguise?

Whatever the reason was, he found himself praying that you never stop talking if he were to ever find out.

 "Here, let me show you a trick," Your breath was fanning his ear before he knew it and your skin was warming his shortly afterwards. He froze in place, still and quiet unlike the noisy rainwater he can hear descending from the skies outside—the rain that has kept him trapped here for literal days now.

He's not complaining.

It was only when your palms found place against the back of his hands that his body relaxed. Your hands were soft unlike the many generals and the blacksmiths he had met before his forced abandonment of his previous life. It felt nice. As if flower petals were cradling his hands.

You smelt just as good as a flower too. He had never been this close to you before so he hadn't noticed it, but now that his back is to you like this..it was as if he was laying in a flowerbed.

Do men always smell this good? He doubts it. Most likely, this scent was completely unique. A fragrance only you could naturally produce. Archons does he wish—

 "—and that's how you do it," He blinks, snapping back to reality where he stares down at the cloth now weaved together with expert precision to form a bunny's ear.

You had helped him make a breakthrough at last..and he had been too busy daydreaming about how it would feel to be hugged by you to watch and learn how you even did it.

..But he doesn't feel regret looming when the realization comes nor does his annoyance return. Or maybe it has and it just hasn't set in yet. He can't tell right now, not when he's feeling as if he had just been warmed by the sun after being frozen for a millennia.

 "Alright, now you try," He hears your words, but they don't process as fast as your hands leaving him does. Nothing really processes quicker than that. Not his frown. Not his disappointment. Not anything.

But not processing something doesn't make it unclear to others. Upon seeing his downcast expression, your brows quirk up in confusion.

 "Is there something on your mind, my new friend?" You inquired, but your question is never answered. Instead, you watch as his saddened eyes turn owlish and his head spins in the opposite direction of you as he mutters something under his breath.

 "I'm sorry, but can you repeat that?" You asked softly, leaning closer in order to hear him better.

 "Can you..show me how to do that again. Please.." He repeated, and in doing so earned the harmonious gift that was your chuckle and the warmth of your hands on him once again.

 "Sure. So what you do is.."

Humans are odd creatures. They'd sacrifice countless hours of their already short life, go to ridiculous lengths doing things, and even put aside their fragile well being to do things that are completely irrelevant just because of their belief that what they do will make someone happy.

 "I'm back!" The sweet chirp of your new housemate—which you and the villagers of the neighboring town have begun to call Kabukimono— echoed through the small abode of your now shared home after not having the pleasure to in about three days or so.

After moving in a week prior, Kabukimono had been adamant on pulling his own weight to prove that he was worth keeping around despite you having the compassion to allow him to be a freeloader otherwise. That said, after your own clumsiness in the field left you with a sprained ankle, your kind new friend had offered to go out and sell all of this week’s goods on your behalf and how could you refuse such an offer when he looked so happy and eager to help out little ol' you?

Well, the real answer to that was that he gave you no choice in the matter, but you digress.

 "I'm in here," He heard you call from the kitchen and he immediately set off in that direction, just barely remembering to slip off his shoes at the door from how eager he was to see you.

If it wasn't obvious already, it had taken some time—both the journey to and from the village and the actual process of conversing with people and getting them to buy everything—but he believes he did pretty good. At the very least, everything was sold. He even managed to make enough to buy you something with some of the excess money!

 "Y/n! I got—! ..Huh?" His words died as quickly as his pace as he stilled to a full halt at the entryway. His eyes grew wide bit by bit as he took everything in.

Banners of silk and thread had been strung along the walls, flashing their abstract patterns of blue and purple at anyone who'd spare a glance. Candles—which are usually set alight atop your nightstand and bookshelf in our room—now clumped and coddled on the table like one big sun with the varying foods surrounding them posing as the stars that helped light up the wooden sky they sat on.

But such a beautiful display was only given a moment's glance as Kabukimono seemed more interested in what you thought was a less-than-average sight; yourself.

Nevertheless, the adoration you felt seeing the sparkle of surprise in his eyes—even if for only a second or so—made you crack a smile as you recited the line you had gone over just about a million times during the time you spent waiting for him to arrive.

 "Welcome home, Kabukimono."

He was at a loss for words and not for the reason you wanted him to be. With the intent of easing his perturbed shock, you walked towards him, steady and slow, but all that proved to do was snap him out of the spell your heavy eyebags and dreary, drooping eyes had put him under.

 "What is all of this? And more importantly, why are you standing? You're not supposed to be putting pressure on that ankle!" He quickly met you the rest of the way, and to your dismay, he had beat you to the comforting, his hands shooting out to grip you by the hips and ease your bandaged leg of your body's weight.

Ignoring his other questions, you began explaining, telling him, "It's a celebration feast. You told me yourself that you, along with not having a name, you haven’t had a home to call yours yet. I thought it would be good to make an occasion out of you finding one at last."

Kabukimono felt bad to admit this even in his own head, but your words were going in one ear and out the other. Yes, he had asked, but you weren't giving him answers to the other questions he simply found more important at the moment, and because of that, it caused his face to look rather tense. Certainly not cheery like you had hoped.

It seems you have made a mistake. It wasn't a surprise, it was you after all, but the thought still hurt considering how much time it took preparing for this moment.

And so, in an attempt to lighten your thoughts and the overall mood, you ask him, "Aren't you happy?"

And unfortunately, your dear housemate didn't answer in the way you had wished he would, instead replying with, "Why would I? You look like you're about to drop dead!"

 "I'm fine," You said; a futile attempt of reassurance when you probably looked like a Sumerian Akademiya student who just finished pulling an all-nighter to write a one-hundred page research paper.

 "As if!" Kabukimono said. That's when he slung your arm over his shoulder, forcing your bodyweight onto him without your permission, and began trudging you along in the direction of your room.

 "What're you doing—" "Taking you to your room so you can lie down like you probably haven't been doing!"

 "Seriously, you should take better care of yourself! Don't tell me this is normal for you.. If it is, I won't be able to let you out of my sight from now on!"

In the end, both the feast and Kabukimono's gift for you had been forgotten. Even though you ended up enjoying it later, your sadness about the initial surprise being ruined was hard to get over even with the delight of a new hairpin being added to your collection..

Humans are odd creatures. Their inability to do much makes them become overawed by the simplest things. Their eyes shine just from seeing a coin flipped in an unorthodox way and they clap and gasp watching the stars twinkle overhead. It’s so nice to see stupid.

 “You know how to dance?” The excitable question left your usually composed lips as you stared at Kabukimono with stars in your eyes.

 “Well...I used to perform sword dances so I suppose yes,” He clarifies, arms crossed as he stared off at the wall to his left with full interest. His azure eyes darkened as if someone had pulled wool over them only to light up like a room to an oil lamp at the question that followed his response.

 “Can you show me?” The way you asked him reminded him of a little kid asking their mother to buy them a toy; full of innocent expectancy. It made his lips thin into a line just hearing it.

It had been ages since he’s danced, and in the past, there weren’t many who gawked at or praised him for his moves. Not his mother. Not any of her servants or soldiers. Certainly not her familiar. At the time, he hadn’t cared about their reactions much at all, seeming as the purpose of his dancing wasn’t for frivolous entertainment, but you, however, were different. You weren’t his mother who had abandoned him. You weren’t the servants or soldiers who never spoke to him. You aren’t his mother’s glaring familiar. You’re you, and the thought of seeing such a lackluster expression painted on your face puts a bad taste in his mouth. It makes him gnaw at his bottom lip from the feeling of a wave rocking unsteadily in his stomach cavity. It made him feel..anxious.

 “Ah..” His mouth felt like chalk—uncomfortably dry—as he spoke and his eyes couldn’t remove themselves from the walls he was surely burning holes into with his nervous glare as he tried to find something—anything—to refute you. He, at last, does and sputters it out in an uneven tone, “But..you aren’t going into battle though.”

You hum in acknowledgement, and for a moment, he thought he could successfully negate you from the topic, but then your lips move to say, “Sword dances are to summon strength, right? Though they’re performed for battles, war isn’t the only thing that requires strength. Farming, cooking.. Even getting out of bed in the mornings needs some strength to complete. When put in that way, don’t you think I’m in need of just as much strength as one of the Shogunate’s men?”

 “We- Well, a typical sword dance requires a sword and a fan and we don’t have anything like that lying around the house,” He shoots out. His brows knitting at the odd feeling of his skin damp with moisture he wasn’t aware he could produce before now.

 “I do have a fan,” You retort, “It’s mainly preserved for hot weather, but it'd be perfect for this occasion! And for the sword..ah! Would a wooden stilt suffice? It’s a little longer than the typical sword, but if I were to shave it down a bit..”

 “I..” He looks at you, face uncharacteristically spooked as he repeats himself, sounding like a broken record at this point, “I.. I..” but you don’t pay it much mind as your excitement gets the better of you and you chalk up his reaction as pre-performance jitters before running to find the items needed, leaving Kabukimono no choice but to watch helplessly like some baby kitten.

In the matter of an hour, he was outside. His body donning one of your many creations while holding a summer fan and wooden stick that didn’t come close to matching anything he was wearing. You—smile etched on your face despite feeling as though you were being stabbed all over—sat a little aways from him on the white cushions that had completely covered the green grass, patiently yet eagerly awaiting for the invisible curtains to rise and for his feet to begin to move.

Despite the biting cold, his hands were slick with sweat, forcing him to grip the wood and fan with inhumane force as to not drop it. His breath came out thick and labored, freezing over immediately upon leaving his lips and ultimately coming out as puffy, white clouds. His only saving grace here was that his feet were firmly planted into the dirt circle you paved out just for his little show. It was even rid of the transparent icy layer; an astonishing feat to be done in so little time.

Even from where he stood, he could see the reddening of your face and hands. The slight tremble of your limbs.. You were freezing to death, that much was certain, but you didn’t care. That’s just how adamant you were to see him perform.

And so, feeling as though he had no other choice, he began. His feet started to glide, starting slow as did his arms—languid and mesmerizing—before it began to pick up just a little whenever he’d twirl or spin or hop. He was sure his movements were sloppy, that his improvision to the original dance he was taught shone through like a stain to white cloth..but as he snuck a glance your way, he found himself uncaring.

..Because the way you looked at him was as if you were gazing up at a god who had just saved your life; amazement brightened your hues like comets in the sky as you followed his every move, utterly enraptured by him. He had managed to evoke that from you. Only him.

Ironically, he had found he himself charmed by your expression and microexpressions. Completely hypnotized as he slid and flowed around the small circle, his clothing–the clothing you had gifted to him—fluttering like angel wings which only further added to the beauty of each swing he took with the stick.

But alas, as the dance went on, Kabukimono found himself going into autopilot. Simply going about the motions as he took every chance possibly to glance your way, his eyes like a distant memory—a past life—whenever they locked with yours..

Humans are odd creatures. Deceptive by nature too. Without a perceptive gaze and trained ears to catch onto their lies, they could make you believe anything as the truth.

 "Hey, Kabukimono, could you pass me the carrots I cut up over there?" You asked, using your head to gesture over in the direction of where you had left the cut carrots on the low table. Kabukimono jumped to your request; crossing the kitchen, picking up the bowl, and walking back over to where you sat comfortably at the kotatsu in record time.

He hands it to you, and with a flick of your wrists, the orange delicacies had joined the rest of the vegetables in the boiling pot on the table. Kabukimono sits back on his knees as you do this, taking comfort in propping his elbow up on the wooden surface before laying his head on his fist as he watches the slow travel of white steam erupt from the pot into the air. His eyes like staring on like a dormant beast at the boiling vegetables crackling as he sighs dreamily at the smell of heaven they produce.

He didn't need to eat. He had told you that at some point in time along with other things, and yet, you had somehow trained him to yearn for food regardless—to salivate when he saw a tasty-looking dish and even grow excited at the thought of what to cook for dinner. It was such a mundane thing that was once so foreign to him. Such a human pleasure and yet he so eagerly partook in it regardless. All because of you. All for you.

Another thing he does because of you now is small talk. Before, if there were silence between him and another person he'd embrace it without a second thought and wouldn't leave that comfort unless forced to—and even then, only a select few would actually elicit a response from him. Nowadays though, it seems he grows quite restless whenever words aren't filling the air. Though, this applied more so with you than anyone else.

 "How did it go in town?" He asked, "You were selling those new cat-shaped stuffed toys you worked yourself ragged making..so? Did anybody like them?"

To such a simple question, your reaction was bewildering. The way your grip tightened on the ladle, the narrowing of your eyes and brows, the tut of your lip.. It all gave a bad vibe.

And so he frowned and asked, "Did they not like them after all? ..Or did something—"

 "It's nothing," And you presented him a closed-eyed smile, both your expression and your grip on the ladle relaxing as you went on to further say, "I just..thought about this girl I met at the villager. I assume she was an orphan from her attire and the way she followed me around without a care.. Anyways, she ended up tripping and hurting her knee pretty badly so I gave her one of the cat plushies, free of charge.”

 "Anyways, the food is ready so let's drop this topic. After all, we don't want it to get cold," The topic changed as suddenly as it came. Odd, seeming as how you're usually rambling all afternoon and evening about your travel to the village, sparing absolutely no detail about even the tiniest things.

The thought lingered for a time, but as he watched you stuff your mouth and saw your eyes shine joyously at the wonderful flavor that coated your tongue as you began to ramble about your relief about the dish turning out good despite this being your first time trying out the recipe, that thought eventually fluttered away with the wind that came through the crack in your sliding doors that allowed more of the evening oranges and yellows to seep into your home.

You were probably just really hungry and eager to eat, he thought as he finally took a bite of the potato he had picked up with his chopsticks, his eyes closing as he hummed out in delight at the taste.

Unbeknownst to him, your face dropped as soon as his eyes closed, your eyes uncharacteristically fogged and dull, as if it were displaying the thick fog that shrouded your mind, your thoughts, your heart. It was a fog that Kabukimono never caught on to, blissfully unaware of what stained your mind, body, and soul.

Humans are odd creatures. Their outside appearance never matches how they feel or the thoughts that poison their mind. They never voice those thoughts either, making it impossible to guess what’s truly going on with them. There are some who’d bless you with a morsel of their inner world—give you a crumb of the turmoil that constantly leaks in their head—making you feel as though you’ve truly come to understand them when in reality, you haven’t even scratched the surface.

It was the middle of the night. The once navy blue sky that had overcasted the world when the sun first fell was now dark due to even the stars going into hiding to slumber, leaving the moon as the only beacon of light to shed away the shadows. It was pitch black everywhere you turned and cicadas buzzed loudly outside, likely complaining about the sweltering heat of the summer, making it impossible to even hear yourself think. It was like some mundane hell.

So why were you out here?

It happened by chance. He had heard some odd noises and went to investigate it. Not expecting to see a silhouette walking out of the door. Thinking it was some thief, he followed after the person, and as the sounds of the cicadas grew distant and an earthy smell invaded his nostrils, the silhouette became less and less obscure. Becoming as clear as day by the time the person had reached their destination.

That person was you.

 “..What is this place?” The question came tumbling out before he could stop himself, his words loudly piercing the quiet of the night. It alerts you of his presence at long last and has your head spinning in his direction.

 “Oh.. It’s just you, Kabukimono’.. Heh, you scared me,” You said. Your head turns forward once again as you force your shoulders to relax, allowing the basket on your back to slide down your arms and to the ground. As you slowly set yourself atop the gentle grass, Kabukimono takes a step forward. Then another, and another, until he’s right beside you, who was digging for the items in the basket.

After a moment of silence allows you to, at last, gather everything needed out of the basket, Kabukimono decides to ask his question once again..or he planned to. As he opens his mouth to let his words free, your voice breaks the silence.

 “There used to be a small village here,” You told him, your hands beginning to twist two long stocks together, “If you go the opposite way of the path we usually tread, you can still find the remnants of what it used to be.”

 “The village's main source used to be this lake. Everyone relied on it for everything. To drink, to cook, to bathe.. Even some of the oddest ways of entertainment came from here..” You laughed, but it was drier than any desert depicted in the novels in your room. It felt wrong to hear—kinda like hearing a baby’s cry come from a grown man—and it felt almost unnerving to have it come from someone like you, who he’s come to associate with the sun itself.

But you were probably really tired. Looking at you, the deep bags that hang your eyelids down indicates you probably haven’t gotten much sleep lately which makes sense seeming as you’ve been running around and, as you told him, ‘preparing’ for something really important.

He wonders what it is you’re preparing for. Whenever he’d ask, he’d never get an answer..

 “This lake, though bound by the earth to this one place, saved that village so many times that the townsfolk began to believe that some powerful being was secretly living in the depths of it and protecting them. They began to idolize it, nurture and take care of it, and spoke about it as if this little lake was some otherworldly deity which created tall tales and legends that they’d go on to tell their children…believe it or not, I once took part in such absurdity.”

 “So..what happened to the village?” Kabukimono hesitates to ask. After all, the obvious context clues pointed him in a tragic direction, but he couldn’t resist his own curiosity in the end. Not when the look in your eyes—that were lit by the lantern of the water’s ripples—reflected nothing but pure sorrow.

At his question, you took a glance his way. As you broke away from the lake that practically glowed in the moonlight, your eyes were stripped of the illuminating gleam of the waves and casted into the darkness of the night. In fact, if it weren’t for the lake, he probably wouldn’t have been able to see your face at all.

Part of him wished that had happened. If it did, he wouldn’t have been forced to stare into the abyss that had overtook your hues for those small handful of seconds.

 “The lake failed them,” You finally spoke shortly after returning your gaze to the water, “A fire of unknown origins enveloped it in the dead of night. It wiped out half the village and forced the other half to flee for safety..some of which came to me, who lived on the outskirts of town.”

 “No one knew how it started. After all, fire wasn’t anywhere close to being the most accessible resource they had. It was a luxury, even. It also never spread past the village and by sunrise, it ceased to exist altogether. The oddity of the situation made the survivors believe that it was some punishment from their lake deity,” As you went on, you had been weaving the strands until one end had connected to the other in a circle—though your sloppy craftsmanship caused it to look more like an oval in your opinion.

As eyesore of a sight it was, you persisted. Your hands reach for the clipped flowers beside you, "That thought clouded their minds and the thought of disappointing their all-forgiving god drove them mad,” Kabukimono watched as you spoke, sticking flowers in one by one and twisting it into the circle, making the dank green pop with each pristine white you carefully placed around it.

 “Convinced that it was their fault everything was lost, the surviving villagers went about the rest of their days repenting by praying to the lake from sun up to sun down...until the waters rose and they disappeared while being enveloped by the deity's embrace."

The story seemed like something straight out of a fairytale. Nonsensical like a myth that he usually wouldn't believe...but the same could be said about his very existence. With that in mind, who is he to be so narrow-minded? He decided to keep his thoughts to himself, locking them tight behind his lips as you continued.

 "The lake failed them. It made a fatal mistake. Saved not one villager from that fire, yet nothing changed. Not their love nor their devotion..if anything it only made them see this lake in an even more divine light...so why didn't the same happen for me?"

The tail end of your sentence made him perk up with unease and as his brows knitted together, Kabukimono opens his mouth as he worriedly asked—or rather, attempted to ask, “What do you mean—” but you shifted the topic faster than he could get the full sentence out.

 “ Do you remember the tales I would tell you about my childhood—my brother specifically? ..I ran into him some time ago while I was out selling in the village.”

 “Whether they wanted to seize from me the goods I was selling that day—or perhaps mistook me for a woman and wanted to have their fun with me as some men have in the past—they began harassing me quite aggressively,” You started, “They bothered me for quite awhile and grew progressively violent the more I tried to politely get them to leave me be—one of them even snatched me up by the wrist. That’s when he intervened.”

 “He didn’t recognize me, not that I’d expect him to. After all, I’ve changed a lot since we were kids..and it seems the same went for him as well,” After placing all the whites of innocence, you went on to grab your smaller, yellow sundrops, your hands meticulously working them in between the white flowers as you continued talking in a cheerful tone. 

 “Though it’s only been a decade or so since I’d last seen or spoken to him, he’s already been through so much. He told me himself, you see, that he had just returned from the war and was passing through villages trying to find a suitable gift.. Can you guess for what?”

 “I don’t know..maybe your parents?” Kabukimono guessed; the wrong answer. You didn’t give him another chance to theorize.

 “It was for his wife and daughter,” You corrected, and if once wasn’t enough, you repeat yourself, “He was returning home to his wife and four year old daughter and wanted to get them something special.”

Gaining the courage once again, Kabukimono attempted to question the point of this conversation in the first place by asking, “What’s wrong with that?” He grew hopeful at first when you allowed him to get his words out. Maybe, at last, he could get his questions answered, he thought.

He thought wrong.

 “He’s really tall now, you know? —I mean, he was always taller than me, but now he’s like a tree! When we spoke face to face, I had to crane my neck all the way back to look up at him,” His question is, once again, ignored as if he never asked it. He began to frown, not liking the thought of you possibly ignoring him, but that crease in his skin quickly grew less prominent when he caught a glimpse of your joyful smile.

 “He’s also got big muscles and a handsome smile,” You add, “That paired with his headstrong, chivalric nature..I’m not surprised that he’s made a name for himself and started a family in such a short time,” Your voice then drops to a murmur as you turn you creation left then right, inspecting it as said, “In only a small handful of years, he’s achieved someone’s dream and so much more.. He’s managed to exceed even the impossible and make everyone proud..he’s truly amazing..”

You grasp at pink petals—deteriorated by the chilling weather—as you fit them as you see fit. Filling in each space like a piece of a puzzle.

 “That encounter made me think back to the lake. It made me realize how similar we are. We’re both fragile and delicate and were surrounded by people who’d still expect us to give away our bones despite already relinquishing our flesh and blood…so what went wrong with me?”

 “Wh.. What?” He stammered. You lift your handiwork into the air, presenting it to the moon for judgement before you finally repeat yourself..

 “What went wrong? I made mistakes just like the lake, so why wasn’t I given the benefit of the doubt? Why did my family–my father–abandon me?”

Abandon. That word stuck to him like a burn to his skin and it felt as if he had just opened his eyes for the first time in a century. It made him realize all the little things at last; how tense the air was, how dim your eyes were, how often your brows twitched, how your eyes seemed like glass balls, how forced your smile seemed.. The illusion he had absorbed himself shattered in that instant, allowing reality to set in like a heavy weight. The person who sat beside him, the one who he’s come to view as the sun that brightened up his day, had looked so different in that moment that he could mistake them for an entirely different person. Did they always look like that? If so, for how long? How long has his sun been this dim? And why didn’t he notice it sooner?

 “I’m sorry, that was cruel of me to ask you that,” You profess in a raspy whisper before turning to him, plopping the finished product—a tri-colored flower crown—atop his head as you mutter, “There’s no way you can answer that.. It was my mistake..”

Kabukimono blinks, his eyes looking up as he tries to peer at the crown to no avail. It was like watching a kitten play with a toy; adorable. Kabukimono didn’t catch it, but upon seeing such a cute sight, you bit down on your bottom lip as your eyes narrowed—damn nea glaring—his way. Luckily, you catch yourself before he notices, trying to laugh it off as you look over at the lake once more. Though your laugh was even drier than the previous one that left your lips and came tumbling out of your mouth like gravel.

 “You know, you remind me so much of my brother,” You said, “You have so much potential to live whatever life you want, to make everyone happy and still keep yourself intact..I almost envy you.”

Kabukimono—hands delicately tracing the rim of the flower crown on his head—grimaced at your comment. Envy. Such a negative feeling to harbor towards him and for no reason at all. After all, he’s nothing special. If he was, surely she wouldn’t have discarded him and left him to rot alone. Alas, before he can tell you that, you started rambling again.

 “I used to make mistakes all the time when I was younger. Especially with swords,” You told him, though it looked more like you were talking to the lake at your knees by the way you were so intently gazing at it, “I just couldn’t get the hang of it. That applied to a lot of things my father tried to teach me… Heh, it makes sense why he gave up on trying after my brother was born.”

 “Wh- What are you saying..?” Kabukimono asked. It came out as a hoarse whisper that was easily carried away by the warm winds and far away from your ears. Hence why you continued instead of answering, surely.

 “You asked me once about the story behind how my obsession for knitting came about.. Why I enjoy it so much.. Well, the reason I never told you was because the truth is quite silly in hindsight; it was to apologize to my father.”

 “I felt sorry for him. After all, his oldest son—who was supposed to carry on and lift a weight off his shoulders–was completely hopeless in every way. I truly did feel bad..and so I thought the least I could do was ease his mind—to reassure him that his useless son could do something right.”

 “You shouldn’t talk about yourself like that–” “After keenly watching my mother sew clothes and observing the female servants make clothing they could otherwise not afford, I was able to do something out of these impractical hands..” You held your hands up and kabukimono winces at the sight. They look like the aftermath of an intense fight, scars—some new, some old—littered your skin, some even stained it with the ugly dark crust that forms when the skin begins to heal. Did they always look that way? “Would you like to know what I made?”

 “I– I’m not—” “I made a fox. A tiny little fox attached to a string,” You said, “I thought it would be cute if he would tie it around the hilt of his sword and carry it around — similar to how one would a good luck charm. I was so excited when I finally finished and ran straight to my father's dojo on the far edge of our home to show it to him.”

 “Y/n–” “At the sight of my creation, my father frowned so deeply I thought his face would become permanently creased by it. ‘Is this what you waste your idle time doing?’ he asked me before cutting my little fox to shreds. ‘No wonder you’ve become such a disappointment! You sit around knitting animals instead of dedicating yourself to training!’ he went on to say.”

 “He went to grumbling under his breath after that. He kept his voice low, but I still heard what he said.. Wanna guess? He said—”

 “Y/n, stop!” The sound of shuffling of him as he stumbles to his feet is loud—though small in comparison to the boom of his scream. You pause, surprised albeit you barely show it—or rather, you’re barely able to force yourself to react—only being able to slowly blink his way in the end as you stare up at your darling housemate, who’s pretty eyes had welled up with tears.

 Stop..please..” He pleaded. A sniffle pushing him past the line of embarrassment, causing him to hide his face from you, “I- I beg of you.. Don’t say another word..not if you plan to degrade yourself like this!”

 “..Kabukimono, don’t..—” He hears you call from the other side of the barrier he created between the two of you, but he’s finally quicker, interrupting you for the first time tonight.

 “Your family abandoned you, but that helped you find your way to me,” He choked, “They didn’t see your worth for what it truly was..but that allowed me to! Who cares what they think of you? How they perceive you? They aren’t in your life anymore, I am! So stop talking down on yourself like they are!” With every word that leaves his lips—that seep through the unseen slits between his fingers—Kabukimono seems to crack more and more until he falls apart, collapsing to the ground in a fit of sobs which causes the flower crown to fall ungracefully off his head.

 “I- I’m in your life now, and I don’t care what you’re good or bad at! I don’t have any expectations for you to meet! It doesn’t matter if you don’t meet society’s standards! I don’t care about any of that. I just want to stay by your side! Isn’t that enough? Aren’t I enough?”

 “Kabukimono..” You call. A moment of silence passes and a chime of bells in the form of your choked sobs fill his ears as you snivel, “No.. No, no— I- I'm sorry. Don’t cry, please don’t cry..”

He suddenly feels the warmth of your arms surrounding his kneeled being and he finds himself crying harder to the point every sorrowful yell and sniffle rattled his entire body. You had wrapped your arms around him in an attempt to comfort him, but it was rather pitiful and futile, seeming as you were sobbing yourself, repeating, “Sorry.. I’m so sorry..” over and over like it was your matra.

You two stayed like that; sobbing amongst the serene sound of the water until it drowned you two out altogether. After some time, your loud croaks had been reduced to weak whimpering—though if the reason for that was because your voice grew too hoarse to form proper words or another reason was unclear.

Neither of you cared, or at least, Kabukimono didn’t. All that he cared about was the feeling of being tangled in your arms and the sound of your heartbeat singing in his ear—which he had pressed against your chest.

 “Promise me,” He whispered, his voice rasp, “Promise me that you’ll be honest with me from now on. A- And promise me not to degrade yourself anymore..that you won’t think about the past..all of it. I want you to promise me that you’ll move on..with me,” He clutched at your kimono, crumpling the flowers on it with his grip as he awaited your response with bated breath.

And when you finally did—when you finally mumbled your response and in the exact way he wanted you to—he felt as though the sun had finally come out again, better and brighter than before..

 “I promise.”

Humans are odd creatures. They’re treacherous liars by nature who spew falsehoods for the sake of their own twisted amusement, uncaring of those affected by their games.

 “There was once a small village here. If you go the opposite way of the path we usually tread, you can still find the remnants of what it used to be.”

It’s been two weeks since you left for the village to sell goods. You still hadn’t returned.

It’d usually take no more than a few days for you to sell everything and come home, so after said days had passed and you were nowhere to be seen, he grew worried and—in the end—went to the village in search of you.

..But you weren’t there either. In fact, from what he gathered from asking around, you had left the village days ago.

 “The village's main source used to be this lake. Everyone relied on it for everything. To drink, to cook, to bathe.. Even some of the oddest ways of entertainment came from here..”

You weren’t here at the village, but you weren’t home either..so where had you gone? The question sunk into him, weighing him down like an anchor and causing his stomach cavity to drop. A feeling of dread set over him as he came upon the unsettling realization; you were missing.

Where had you gone? What happened when you left the village a few days ago? Had you been kidnapped? Grown more frantic with each thought that popped into his head, Kabukimono ran around, asking every villager he came across about you until he finally gained a morsel of information—a speckle of hope—when a man mentioned seeing someone that fit your description walk towards the entrance of the village with an empty, woven basket as big as themselves hanging on their back.

And without much thought, he took off in that very direction, heeding the man no mind any longer despite his warnings about the impending storm that was soon to consume the area.

 “This lake, though bound by the earth to this one place, saved that village so many times that the townsfolk began to believe that some powerful being was secretly living in the depths of it and protecting them. They began to idolize it, nurture and take care of it, and spoke about it as if this little lake was some otherworldly deity which created tall tales and legends that they’d go on to tell their children…believe it or not, I took part in such absurdity.”

Kabukimono remained unfazed when the path beneath his feet began to turn dark and slippery, when the graying sky finally shed its tears, when those tears dampened his clothing, not even when he nearly fell into a puddle. All that he could focus on was the possible places you would have gone and why the place you chose wasn’t home where he was.

 “So..what happened to the village?”

 “The lake failed them.”

 “Y/n! Where are you? Can you hear me?” After a while of running with no destination in mind, Kabukimono found it best to call out to you in hopes you’d make your way to him, call his name back, something–anything–that would hint towards you being near.

He raised his voice as high as he could, his voice likely being carried across nations from how loud he was, and yet, he was met with nothing but the deafening sound of thunder roaring to life. It was disheartening, but as he stood amongst the rain, the final wire in his head finally clicked and the memory of you sitting before crystal waters was pushed to the forefront of his mind.

It’s a slim chance, but maybe you had gone there and, for whatever reason, stayed.

In an instant, he was running at full speed once again, steering in the direction his memory remembered best.

 “A fire of unknown origins enveloped it in the dead of night. It wiped out half the village and forced the other half to flee for safety..some of which came to me, who lived on the outskirts of town.”

 “No one knew how it started. After all, fire wasn’t anywhere close to being the most accessible resource they had. It was a luxury, even. It also never spread past the village and by sunrise, it ceased to exist altogether. The oddity of the situation made the survivors believe that it was some punishment from their lake deity.”

 "That thought clouded their minds and the thought of disappointing their all-forgiving god drove them mad..”

He made it to the lake by nightfall—not that he could tell by looking up, seeming as it's been the same color since earlier that afternoon—and as if a light was shining down on it from the sky, the lake gleamed almost magically. Its darkened waters seemed to shine like a ruby even under the thick clouds and he sees the ripples from where he stood in the distance. The waves paving a clear way for him to follow, slowly leading up to the center where he spots something.. 

 “Convinced that it was their fault everything was lost, the surviving villagers went about the rest of their days repenting by praying to the lake from sun up to sun down…”

As he slowly walked closer, familiar strands of hair became noticeable. Though cut into uneven chunks and spread out to be nearly invisible in comparison to the deep red of the water that it floats in, he was sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. That said, he found himself following the strands to the origins of where they once flourished from. His eyes locked on the indistinguishable lump once again and he was sure that it and the reason he came here were unrelated…until something floating beside it caught his eyes.

That something was a hairpin. One with a golden base and purple and red flowers dancing along the edge of it…just like the one he bought you the day you decided to throw him that welcoming party.

 “...until the waters rose and they disappeared while being enveloped by the deity's embrace."

 “Y/n.. Y/n!” Despite the pressure of it dawning on him felt like two boulders falling on his shoulders, Kabukimono rushed into the water and immediately the white clothing that covered his being stained a murky crimson whilst a putrid smell invaded his nostrils. It made him feel sick—nauseated, even—but he did his best to push it all down as he clumsily swam towards the center of the lake.

It wasn’t true. This wasn’t happening. This surely can’t.. What’s floating amongst the water truly isn’t what he thinks it is.

It isn’t you. There’s no way. You made a promise that you still haven’t fulfilled, after all. You wouldn’t break your promise, not someone like you.

After what felt like an eternity, he reaches the center of the lake which he now notices is more of an inky black and only stretches as far as a few rogue strands. He grabs ahold of the lump, sucking in a breath when his fingertips sink in slightly as if pressing against a firm, wet cushion. It felt disgusting. He hesitates, but ultimately squeezes down enough to pull it along even with the sickening slick gushing at the pressure and making his grasp unsteady.

He reaches land at long last, immediately escaping onto the wet grass and tugging the lump out along with him. It looked less like a lump now, and though swole and looking like some abstract art piece, there was no mistaking it. It was flesh. This was a person, or rather, the remains of one..and they looked eerily similar to you even when all blotched and bloody, there was no denying that.

But even if this was you, there’s no way you could be dead. No, that’d be impossible. You have to be asleep. You had to have decided to take a dip in the lake and fell asleep. That’s the only thing that makes sense.

His shaky palms reach out to you and he touches you with his cold, wet hands that were actively getting more and more drenched with every raindrop that fell on them. He gently swept your hair from your face, tucked it tentatively behind your ear, and cupped your cheek.

His breath stutters. It was as if he was touching pure ice. But that can’t be possible. You’re his sun, his light, somebody like you shouldn’t feel like this.

..Well actually, it makes sense. You fell asleep in the water plus it’s raining. Even someone as warm as you would succumb to the cold under these circumstances. It makes sense. It’s okay. He’ll help you warm up in the comfort of your home as soon as he wakes you up.

He slides his hand down your face—past your now oddly grayed lips and down your neck—until he reaches your bare shoulder, which wrinkles had been exposed due to his rough handlings in pulling you out of the water by the drapes of your clothing. He promises to apologize when you awake. Because you will wake up. There’s no doubt. Because you’re just sleeping.

 “Y/n..” He calls softly. Too softly seeming as you remain unmoving. He decides to give your shoulder a gentle shake, calling your name once again, “Y/n.”

 “Y/n. It’s time to wake up,” Your lashes don’t flutter. You don’t grimace from the discomfort of his shaking growing more and more aggressive. You don’t do anything.

 “I don’t mean to disturb you, but you’ll probably get sick if you lie here in the rain any longer,” The same result. Blood begins to seep under his fingernails from how hard he’s digging his nails into your skin. He continues to shake you anyways, even going on to grip your other, covered shoulder.

 “Come on, you can’t sleep around forever. I- I planned to surprise you by making dinner all by myself tonight. It’s your favorite so you have to try it,” His nose was beginning to tingle from the odor that was invading it. Where was it coming from? Why is it so much stronger than before now that he’s closer to you? He forces his mind not to make the connection. Not that there was a connection in the first place. You were just sleeping, after all.

Just sleeping, nothing else.

Kabukimono’s hand trails down your arm, down past your wrist, to your hand where he enlaces his fingers with yours, “Come on,” He said, though his voice was quieter now, more shaky, and his words cracked like glass, allowing his desperation to seep through just a little, “We have to get home..”

 “I- I want to go home now, so let’s go..please..” He lifts your hand, raising your arm into the air and ignoring the deep, dark lines etched messily into your skin—the deepest looking one right over the vein of your wrist—and giving it a firm squeeze. You don’t reciprocate the action.

His grip loosens after a while and your fingers slide down his palm and flop to the ground beside you. You had to be really, really tired. But that’s okay, he’ll help you out!

He moves to hover over you, a grim smile etched on his face as he loops his arms around your waist and hoists you up. Your body collides with his as all your weight shifts to lean on him.

He holds you tightly, his head turning so as to not hit his nose against your chest and instead allows you to lean against the side of his face, his ear pricking up at the sweet symphony of...silence.

Sitting there, amongst the loud rain with his ear pressed against your chest—right over your heart—he’s met with deafening silence instead of the usual beat your heart strings typically produce. Your heart wasn’t playing its usual tune. It wasn’t playing anything, in fact, because it wasn’t beating. If your heart wasn’t beating anymore that meant you weren’t breathing anymore either which meant..you..

Tears—ones that he wasn’t aware of—were building up in his eyes, falling like a castle under attack. They slowly descended one after another, quickly fusing with the rainwater and forming as a long, thick stream along his cheek and past his mouth—which he had cracked open to bare his clenched teeth.

 “Y/n..what have you done?” He whispered. His voice sounded small like a baby fox’s cry for help; vulnerable and weak. He then repeats himself one last time, slowly, “..Why have you done this..?”

Silence. His teeth crackles under the pressure of him forcing them impossibly closer together.

 “Answer me,” He says through gritted teeth before yelling out, visibly and uncharacteristically enraged, “Answer me!”

Silence. He shakes you hard, your head rolling every which way like a ragdoll to the point it’d make one believe that any harder would cause it to roll right off your shoulders. Luckily, for his sake, it doesn’t.

 “You promised me!” He shouted, his voice then dipped, “..you promised me..”

Silence. A choke spells his demise quickly after that and his strength suddenly fails him, allowing your body—your corpse—to fall unceremoniously to the ground. He follows suit soon after, and when he does, he lets out a scream. One that clawed its way out from the depths of his chest, spilling his agony out of his throat and laying it bare for the entire world to see…alas, with nothing but the moon to comfort him.

Humans are odd creatures. Ones that cannot be trusted, no matter who they are or what past they may harbor, at least, that’s what Kabukimono.. Kunikuzushi…

That’s what Scaramouche has grown to believe after centuries of nothing but betrayal.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[5targh0st]

NUMBER ONE GIRL

31. you're mine (written)

prev // m.list // next

Neither of you talk much, but you have a great time nonetheless. It's almost as if you both know what the other is thinking and words weren't exactly necessary. However, something similar to fear keeps you from letting go; fear of your feelings not being reciprocated, of saying the wrong thing, and of messing up the weird and comfortable relationship you've built.

However, little by little the awkwardness disappears and everything seems to fall into place. You joke around and laugh. Everything feels easier without the weight of expectations and labels hovering over you.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice drowned by his own laugh.

"What?" For some reason, you can't help but smile.

"Why were you hiding in the bathroom?" He seems nervous, "I got worried for a second."

"I wasn't hiding," you can feel your face hot. "I was talking to my friends. Don't ask." You try to laugh but it comes out as a sigh.

And just before you go on a rant about everything and reassure him that you weren't hiding from him, he smiles and reaches for your hand. He knows. You're not sure how, but he knows; he wouldn't be smiling like that if he didn't.

Dessert arrives and you're so lost in his presence that you barely notice how people have started to leave the place. Has he always been so alluring?

When you finally have to go, you reach for your card just to be left waiting. "We haven't paid."

"I did. I paid in advance so you wouldn't pull any funny tricks."

You want to argue and say it's not fair for him to pay every single time you hang out. Then it hits you, are you really hanging out? This whole dinner thing has turned out to be more date-like than you anticipated.

"There's something I want to show you..." His voice interrupts your spiraling.

You just nod and follow him back to his car. Of course, you won't say it out loud but you just realized you'd go basically anywhere with him. Are you supposed to feel like this? Is it wrong?

After a short drive, you finally arrive at the place he wanted to show you. It's a recording studio, although way different than the ones you have at school. This place has a lot more equipment and looks cozier.

"Is this like your personal studio?"

"Something like that," he explains turning on everything, "I share the place with Heesung."

"I didn't know he's also part of the music program."

"He's not. His parents are doctors so they wanted him to follow their steps and, after a lot of arguing and screaming, they compromised on psychology so Heesung could still have time for music."

"He sounds brave."

"He is, but don't tell him that, his ego is big enough as it is." He jokes, but you see the fondness in his eyes. He sure loves his friends.

"Like you're one to talk..."

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

You both keep on bickering and laughing. Then silence sets in, but not the uncomfortable kind of silence, it's more like a natural kind of quietness. The same type of silence that comes before the sunrise; a breath of fresh air in the loudness of your lives.

"What did you want to show me?"

"Me."

You must look confused and maybe even concerned cause he laughs and looks away before explaining. "I know why your friends didn't like me, and I know at least one of them told you not to hangout with me or whatever.

I'm not saying they're wrong or that people misunderstand me, but they don't know the whole truth. They don't know me beyond the persona that, I confess, I've built to keep them out. But I want you to know me, all of me.

I'm an asshole, I was in love before and got my heart shattered, and I used that as an excuse to play around and maybe even hurt people. I'm not saying my actions were justified, but I did what I thought was necessary to not be hurt again..."

He is almost spiraling. This is the most honest he's ever been, but he sounds just so desperate.

"Yeonjun..."

"Please, let me finish. I like you. I'm not a good person, and I've hurt people and I'm a mess and I might fuck things up... and I like you. I know I was the one to say we should take things slow and see where it got us. From the moment I first laid eyes on you I knew you were gorgeous but now, after spending time with you and getting to know you a little, I like you and all of the things that make you who you are."

You don't know what to say. He likes you. You like him too, but you don't know how to say it or where to start. So kiss him.

You pull him in and he seems surprised. For a second you start to think that maybe you rushed a little with the physical contact but then you feel his arms engulf you and his lips moving against yours. Has he always been that good of a kisser? Your mind can't even begin to comprehend what got you here.

"I like you too..." you whisper when the contact stops. Too nervous to look at him.

"I kinda figured." He laughs and you feel his hands cupping your face and his thumb caressing your skin. Just a light touch.

"Shut up." You try to hide from his gaze.

He brings you closer and wraps his arms around you, as if he were scared you'd change your mind. "You ruined my speech, though. I even wrote a song so you'd hear about my feelings while I uncomfortably stare at you for four minutes straight."

You can't help but laugh, of course he would do something like that. "Play it for me."

"No way."

"Come on! I'll even pretend to be surprised and everything."

He gives in. Part of him thinks he'd say yes to anything you ask but that's a door he won't open yet. He just admitted he likes you, there'll be enough time in the future to worry about the intensity of his feelings.

he takes off his blazer and walks to the piano. "Please remember that you asked for it."

"You're doing great sweetie!"

He rolls his eyes and you can see his blush but he starts anyway, "This ain't for the best..."

His hands move swiftly yet hesitantly. It's been a while since he's felt so vulnerable. Your soft gaze follows his every movement and he can feel his skin getting warmer by the second. You smile for a moment enjoying the effect you had on him. Until he looks at you while singing.

Now you get it. It's not uncomfortable at all. It's rather intimate. Having someone so openly expressing his feelings for you in such an emotional moment makes you feel helpless and bare. It's almost magical.

"... delicate." He finishes and avoids your eyes.

"Don't get all shy on me now." You try to joke.

"I'm not shy!"

You bicker for a while and everything feels so natural. You don't know what made you feel so nervous at dinner, he's just Yeonjun.

"I do want you to know that I don't expect us to put a label on this right away." He explains while holding your hand. "I want us to go on dates and have like the whole experience. I wanna court you or whatever it is old people call it."

"I'd really like that." You can stop smiling. You didn't know it was possible to smile this much but here you are.

The drive home is different; the feeling of his hand in yours is comforting and yet it also makes you feel anxious. A good type of anxious though.

You talk about school and your plans for the week. It's all so natural and domestic, you've never felt like this before. Not even with Sunghoon. This is the first time you've let yourself be with someone after him and somehow it feels so much more real and authentic. Yeonjun doesn't make you feel as if you need to tone down who you are; you can just be yourself.

When you arrive at your apartment complex, he opens your door and tries best not to stutter while saying goodbye. You laugh and can't even figure out why. You're just so happy.

"See you tomorrow?" He asks shyly once you get out of the car.

"See you tomorrow." You confirm still holding on to his hand.

And then you seal your promise with a kiss...

notes:

I was so excited for this chapter

once again we love a communicative king

had an issue with the format but it's ok now

happy holidays btw

taglist: (32/50)

@estella-novella @poetryforthesad @lisaswifey @angelzforu @ihrtlix @gloriousqueenking @domfikeluva @circus-of-thoughts @conwunder @miniature-tragedy @jeonginplsholdmyhand @sh0dor1 @yourenzoo @tkshairband @realrintaro @castingjinx @amara-mars @hwangrfrnd

[vengefultakeover]

A Dance of Life and Death

I was never a dancer. I was tall, wide, and chubby. I could barely walk let alone perform the dance moves I had seen some of these performers. I took care of the campus, making sure the rooms were well kept, the equipment returned after rehearsals, and the trash didn't overflow with half eaten granola bars and pre-made salads.

I was watching one of the rehearsal one day, my arms crossed and my eyes following the movements of the dancers as they made sure their movements were crisp in the long mirror. There was one man in particular that always caught my eye and he would catch me looking at him in the mirror. I never said anything to him, thinking he would definitely say no. I was about his age so why couldn't we go out on a date? Rehearsal ended and I was going to say something to him, but decided against it. Unfortunately, he caught me before I could leave.

"Why do you always stare at me?" He was much more aggressive than I thought he was going to me.

"Sorry, you all are just so good at what you do." I said with a smile, meeting him with kindness.

"Well stop. You always distract me. Do whatever it is your good at." He crushed a plastic water bottle and tossed it on the ground. He shoved himself past me and I watched him walk away while my face flushed hot.

"That was rude." I heard a voice say.

"Right?" I responded. When I turned to see who it was I found that I was alone with the crushed bottle on the ground. I thought nothing of it, to distracted by the fact that this man was so cruel. I don't know why I expected any less.

The following day it was business as usual except I made sure I wasn't in view when i was watching them rehearse. I peered around the window and watched as the pre-recorded piano filled the studio. I didn't think he would notice, but somehow he did. Over the next few days i was finding things that had never been there before, knocked over equipment, garbage bins that had been tipped over, even writing in the bathroom specifically calling me out for being a creep. I didn't know what to do except talk to him.

So, rehearsal finished on the day I had enough and I walked right up to him. The room cleared quickly and we were left alone. He was shirtless except for a pair of black shorts cut to leave nothing to the imagination. He smirked when I stopped in front of him.

"What did I do to you?" I asked.

"You're just creepy." He rolled his eyes and started walking away from me.

"Don't walk away when I'm talking to you." I pulled his arm. I regretted it immediately. I wasn't sure what came over me.

"Don't fucking touch me. You're nothing and you always will be." He spit on the ground. "Now clean that up." My face got so hot that I thought steam would come out of my ears or my eyes would burst inside their sockets, but instead everything went black. When I finally came to I was looking at the dancer on the ground with blank eyes. I didn't know what happened, but from what I could tell I must have pushed him too hard and he knocked out.

I checked for a pulse. Nothing.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" I made sure no one had seen anything before I tried making a plan. Do I call the police? I could say he fell. But he's a dancer, he's supposed to have excellent balance. They would never believe me.

While I was panicking, his body started to move behind me. His chest puffed up and his mouth opened and snapped shut. His fingers curled just as his arms would twist and I finally turned around to him standing up.

"Holy shit are you okay?" I was reaching out to him, but he just gasped as he looked down at himself. Was he admiring his body? Maybe he had a concussion.

"It feels so good to be alive again." He went from checking himself out to doing stretches. Arms extending across his body, legs jumping and finally a roll of his neck. Something popped back into place just as he locked eyes with me.

"What's happening?" I was confused. Still panicking because of the assault charges that might come my way. Maybe he didn't remember?

"I'm sorry about the way he treated you. You didn't deserve that all." He reached his hand out and gently caressed my arm.

"He? What do you mean?"

"Oh. That little burst of anger was super helpful. When he knocked out it gave me full access to his body. You see, I've been watching you for a while now. I'm an old dance instructor here. Years ago now. Too many. I always thought dancing was for everyone no matter how you looked." He was standing oddly close and this sudden change in attitude was alarming albeit much more flattering.

"I think you may have hit your head a little hard. I'll call someone." I said, turning away. I felt him grab my hand and then pull me towards him.

"It's been so long since I've felt another person. I love a man with some meat on his bones." He was staring into my eyes as I looked down at him and I was definitely starting to tent my work pants.

"What's happening?"

"I'm dead! Well not anymore thanks to you. That's what I've been trying to say. He died and I took his place. Honestly it works out for all of us. You don't go to jail for murder, I get a new body, and the world no longer has an asshole running around. Especially packing a weapon like this." He had pulled open his shorts and was now staring inside.

"I think maybe I should go." I said. I wasn't confused anymore, maybe a little frightened.

"I think you should get to use this body just like I am going to. A nice reward for putting up with his shit. He really treated you like dirt." He looked down again, distracted momentarily by his bouncing pecs. His eyes darted to my hands and he reached out and grabbed them, cupping his bulge with my fingers. I didn't pull away, I was too enthralled with this new person.

"I think I'd like that." I said, my fingers squeezing. He enjoyed that.

"Maybe we can hang around each other. Like I said. I love a man with some meat." He reached down and grabbed my cock, but I knew he just meant me. I stumbled backwards when he pushed into me, my back hitting the mirrors. We were suddenly swept up in touching each other, his hands sliding up my shirt while my hands slide along his body. We were both admiring each other, something he probably wouldn't have done without this new entity controlling him. I definitely didn't mind, especially when his hand slipped into my pants and started squeezing my cock.

"Are you two okay?" The voice came from the door, it was a stage manager. I pushed him off the moment I heard her.

"Yeah, just clearing things up." I said. This seemed to appease her because she squinted with her thick black binder and disappeared out the door. I sighed in relief and looked at the dancer.

"What even is your name?" I asked.

"I used to be called Franklin. Last name Frick. From what I can tell my new name is Peter. I kind of like it." He flexed again.

"Well, I'm Mitch. Nice to meet you." I held out my hand. I wasn't sure why but it felt like a proper greeting.

"Oh I know. I've been watching you since you started here. I'm happy I finally get the chance to get to know you." He grabbed my hand and started pulling me out of the building. I noticed on the way way out the name of the founder of the studio, his name flashing in bold as we passed it. Franklin Frick.

[eclipsethemagic]

Welcome home |Choi Soobin|

Summary:  soobin has been gone for months, just to think he wasn't coming home for Christmas. Well, that is what he told you.

paring:  non!idol soobin x!female reader

genre: fluff

w.c: 2,058

Song of the day: Red lights by stray kids

s.masterlist

A/n: hehe let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

ps. i miss my bunny boy :(

"You're kidding." It is the first thing that comes out your mouth that makes Soobin whine on the other end of the line and you had to fight the smile that would form on your lips. Soobin has been home for about two months to be with his parents to help out a little more. But that little more ended up turning to a third month because of the snow and he promised you that he'll be back, and you know he couldn't help that Mother Nature just wasn't on his side or yours for that matter.

"Baby I'm sorry, we got more snow later last night, if I can get my flight a little early tomorrow I'll be there Christmas morning I promise, you just have to trust me, you trust me, right Princess?" He says with a little hope that you trust in him. "Sadly yes." You hear him gasp in typical Soobin fashion making you giggle a little. "The fact my girlfriend doesn't trust me enough makes me feel like I need to work harder. But I have to go, I love you, baby."

"And I love you more." Soobin hangs up the phone and you sigh bring your phone from your ear and put it on the bed before getting up. Soobin and you have been together for about almost two years, and the relationship has had its ups and downs. Mostly from you and your own insecurities. To be honest, Soobin has been the only person who you truly loved. The only person who you know goes out of his way to make you feel happy and complete. You couldn't have asked for a better boyfriend.

"Soonie! Can you help me with this box?" Soobin's mother yells from upstairs in his family home. Soobin gets up from the couch and runs up the stairs to see his mom in one of the guest rooms. "Mom, what are you doing?" He chuckles and takes the box from her hands. His mother smiles and brings the front of her hand to wipe her forehead. "Well- wait you can just set it on top of that one in the corner. But I'm just doing a little bit of cleaning." She answers walks over to the closet and pulls out a thick white blanket. "Also when you go home later on tonight bring this to y/nie, I know she'll love it!" Soobin nods as he puts the box in the corner and also grabs the blanket his mother is holding up.

Soobin's family loves you, maybe they loved you more than they loved him but he could sacrifice his title for you any day. Especially his mother, from the first time she laid eyes on you, you won her heart and that's all it took for soobin to know that you were the one. Which now brings him to the present, how the hell was he supposed to get home without you knowing?

Yeah, soobin lied but he wanted it to be a surprise. He knew how much you missed him, and how much you understood. But he also knows that once you know that he lied about Not being able to come home you might hit him. But was it the price he was willing to take? Yeah. Because he missed you, he missed your smile and the sweet cinnamon smell that filled the room. He missed having you in his arms, and he also missed your lips. He loved to kiss you every single day. Just something about how your lips felt on his that made him feel complete, right at home. "I'm sure she'll love it take you, Mom." He mumbles and kisses his mother on the cheek before grabbing the blanket from his mother and walking out of the guest bedroom to his own room to finish packing the rest of his things.

It was around 7:30 when Soobin got off the phone with yeonjun early that morning to make sure you were out of the house. He walks into the house and drops his suitcase on the floor before he lets out a big sigh. The whole house smelled like baked cinnamon rolls and vanilla, a smell he could never not like. He noticed you moved a few things around, like the couch and the book shelve. In the corner of the living room stood the Christmas tree you two put up every year, this year you had to put it up by yourself which made Soobin feel a little bit sad. But he promises he'll make it up to you one way or another.

"Alright let's get started."

"Is it good?" Beomgyu asks you when he sits next to you at the kitchen table. He had made you some pancakes, a new family recipe he wanted to try for you. You nod and take another bite before reaching for your water. You have been over to yeonjun and his best friend Beomgyu's house for a few hours, ever since he got you this morning. And as much as you loved the two of them it was getting closer to 12 in the afternoon, and you really wanted to go home and just sit on your couch. "So, y/n? You know we love you dearly right?" Yeonjun says when he puts his cup down on the table. You nod looking at him. "Yeah? Did you do something wrong?"

His eyes widen for a moment before waving his hands in the air. "Pfft! No! I just, you have to stay here for another hour or so...Because we miss you so much! Right Beomgyu?"

"Who's we- ow. Yeah!" Beomgyu mumbles beside you. Another hour? You don't know how much you could take being with them. And as much as you want to argue you know that Yeonjun doesn't back down, he's stubborn just like his best friend that's next to you. So maybe another hour wouldn't be so bad.

But you spoke too soon when the two started to argue over the show you three were watching. "But I don't understand, how come he doesn't know it's her? I mean she's pointing out everything as they talk on the phone."

"Would you know if I sat up there and said I wasn't happy in my marriage but I'm not saying it as ME, I'm saying it as the PERSON I'm talking about," Beomgyu says passionately to his best friend and it makes Yeonjun huffs out loud and cross his arms against his chest. "Still, I would have known it was you once you started calling when I'm not around you." He points out and Beomgyu nods a little before speaking. "It's a kdrama, it's building character development." His sentence makes you chuckle just a bit.

"What do you know about character development?" Yeonjun asks him and Beomgyu shrugs. "Nothing, I'm just Beomgyu. A guy who lives a boring life and lives with his best friend who happens to have no bitches on his roster but claims he does- how does Kai have more bitches than you Junie?" You let out a big sigh when the two start to argue again, you don't make out a lot of what they're saying most of it is mixed with Korean but you do know once Yeonjun says something about Beomgyu's past relationship his face sinks and his mouth forms into a frown and he stops making jokes. Yeonjun smiles as if he just defeated the biggest boss ever before he looks at his phone. "Alright, it's time to drop you off now y/n let's go."

You wave at Yeonjun one last time as he pulls out of your driveway before driving down the street. You walk into the house, and take your shoes off before putting your coat on the coat hanger next to the door. Food fills your nose when you walk more into the living room making you pause. Food? Is your mother here? The house was spotless, and then you hear sweet jazz playing in the kitchen. "Binnie?" You say as you walk into the kitchen. You see your boyfriend over the stove, flipping steak in a pan, the kitchen towel over his shoulder. He turns his head a little and smiles. "Hi baby."

"soob!" Soobin lets out a deep laugh when he sees you run over to him and give him a hug, taking the air out of his chest. Soobin missed this, he missed you, he missed your smell, your hugs. He kisses the top of your head before pulling away. He hears you sniffle and he looks down and frowns. "Why are you crying, love? Please don't cry." He mumbles and wipes your tears from your cheek. You chuckle and sniffle before shaking your head. "I just, I miss you so much Binnie, don't leave again okay?" He nods and kisses the tip of your nose before putting his lips on yours giving you a small peck. "Alright let me finish dinner, you go ahead and freshen up okay?" You giggle and nod before walking away from him and walking down the hallway to the bathroom.

When you come back you don't hear the jazz music playing anymore. Soobin sets down two plates on the table and goes back to the kitchen. You sit down at the table and look at the food in front of you. One thing about Soobin is that he knows food is the one thing to your heart. If you're sad, or mad he knows he can make you your favorite food. That's the one thing Soobin was attracted to you was the love of food, he's just like you in a way. You could put this man to bed and he still would want food the next day.

Sex for him wasn't everything.

"This is food is good bin." You say as you start to eat, cutting into the juicy steak. Soobin cheeks turn red, and he finds his hands into his face letting out a light giggle. "I didn't do much." He mumbles in his hands making you giggle with him. "It's still good love, keep cooking like this and I might never leave you."

Soobin takes his hands out his face and he smirks before grabbing his glass of wine. "Isn't that the point baby?" He brings his glass to his lips and takes a sip. "If I had it my way I'll put a ring on your finger and have a little us running around, but we can't do that can we?" Soobin lets out a laugh when he sees you roll your eyes and bring another piece of steak to your mouth. It's easy for Soobin to think about a future with you. Which is surprising because with every relationship he has had, you're the first. You're the first for him to want to have kids. You're the first for him to want to actually get married. And if that doesn't scream, I love you then Soobin doesn't know what it'll take for you to see that. But the way you smile and laugh with him throughout the dinner, he knows you also know his love for you.

"Soobin?" You say as you look away from the TV screen. Soobin hums taking his eyes from the movie in front of him and looks down at you. All you can do is smile and bring your hand to his cheek, rubbing your thumb against it. "This is by far the best Christmas ever..thank you." You hear him let out a chuckle. "I didn't do much baby.."

"But you did enough, this. Being with you, being around you. You surprised me and even brought back my favorite chocolate. That's enough. You are enough. I couldn't have asked for a better Christmas, my love." Soobin leans in, bending down to put his lips on yours before looking at you, his dark brown eyes staring down back at yours, his orbs sinking you into a dark abyss. "And I love you baby, merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you my love."

TAG LIST!

@rapmonie2047 @lattyjiji @lusciaa1 @lalagilmoregirly @muchwita @kimynsblog @marcellaxworld @aripandaception @angelicicy @bella-feed @me-from-the-moon @ctkvi @bangchansmami @babiekooks @m88nstar @shannon0310 @trohmantics

(if you are tagged I seen that you liked the series master list and just assumed you wanted to get more updates lmao, if you don't please let me know!)

[faeriekit]

For the ao3 tag ask game: grief/mourning

😂!! Oh, I got this.

This work was posted to @faeriekit's blog; if the version you are reading was not posted by the username faeriekit, it has been stolen and reposted without permission.

*

"We have gathered here today," Sam started, dressed in her blackest shawl, ruffliest ripped dress, and most Gothy demonia boots, "To celebrate-- Danny, close your eyes. You're supposed to be dead."

Danny quickly shut his eyes again, lain back in a Fenton Brand Coffin™ they'd pilfered just for this. "I want to watch!" he complained still.

The attending mourners-- Tucker, Valerie, and Vlad, of all people, booed.

Eyes still squeezed shut, Danny stuck his tongue out in no particular direction.

"We have gathered," Sam said, louder, raising her voice in emphasis, "Here today, to celebrate the life and death of one Daniel Fenton, too mid to live. Sad."

"Hey!"

"Shut up, you're dead. Now, I'm sure that everyone will say some very nice words about this guy, but consider this: don't. Anyone want to volunteer?"

Tucker, proudly, shoved his hand in the air. Vlad raised his hand normally, crossing one suited leg over the other.

Sam flipped her page over. "Too bad. Anyway--"

"But I brought blackmail specifically for today!" Tucker complained, and held up something of note on his PDA.

Danny fully got up out of his coffin to snatch it out of Tucker's hand.

Wrestling, obviously, ensued.

"Is this cheese sourced locally?" Vlad asked, having taken the snack tray for himself and begun scrutinizing the little toothpicks upon it. Sam glared. Who did he think she was?? Of course it was locally sourced; it was more ecologically-minded!

Valerie, the only one wearing red, slumped down in the kitchen chair Danny had dragged down from the kitchen hours earlier. "This funeral sucks. No one even brought an entree? It's all desserts!"

Sam put her hands on her hips, completely ignoring the two idiots duking it out on the floor. "If you want to plan the funeral next time Val-er-ie, go ahead. It'll make my life a lot easier if you find a location that isn't a basement and you invite all the people who know that your best friend is dead and you find him some kind of coffin or body disposal scenario, considering that he doesn't have the courtesy to take himself out with the trash!"

Valerie glanced at the mediocre ambiance of the Fenton workshop/basement/lair around them. Valerie glanced at the now empty coffin and her somewhat-dead ex-boyfriend, now dead-set on wrestling his childhood friend into the ground.

Her wince was obvious. "...Fair. That's fair, actually."

Sam threw shawl-covered hands in the air. "I know. Vl-- did you FINISH the cheese cubes?? Those were our only finger foods!!"