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cumikering · 6 months ago

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Neighbour Ghost x reader 8 (end)

1.6k | fluff The stray and his forever home (part 1)

“Bone apple tea.” You placed the cup of camomile in front of Simon.

“What?”

You pointed at your skull-printed shirt, the apple pie patch on his hoodie and the tea on the table. “Bone. Apple. Tea.”

He’d missed that brilliant smile too much. It was impossible to not want to kiss you. He chuckled as he pulled you to stand between his thighs.

That Sunday with your help, despite the pounding of his head, he packed the rest of his stuff and managed to move out. In the last few days he had before he left, he spent any possible moment with you, mainly eating his favourite Chinese takeout or cuddling on the couch.

Two months later when Simon came back, things crawled to how they were, with him visiting for dinner and leaving before midnight. Eventually, he stayed more and more nights a week, leaving more than a few of his shirts behind.

The divorce was finalised and his childhood home was sold. The city of Manchester didn’t mean gripping the straps of his backpack after school as he walked up the dreaded front steps anymore, nor sleeping restlessly lest someone barged in the door with another bizarre creature. The house was gone, along with the memories that breathed within the walls. He didn’t miss them.

His mum got a flat near Tommy’s and a job at a flower shop in the neighbourhood. ‘Not as nice as working with Ben’, she said. She had to buy her own bread, and none she’d found in the area tasted remotely close to how grand his were. She still cooked too much, but Tommy didn’t mind the extra whenever she dropped by. Little Joe always loved seeing his nana anyway.

Back from his next deployment, Simon held you at the door as he inhaled the warmth he’d missed terribly. After his shower, you showed him his shirts in their own drawer, not jammed between yours anymore. He smiled, pulling you in for a kiss.

In spring, he came with to visit your dad, insisting on wearing one of his dress shirts, even when you assured it was a regular lunch. He stood rigid on the porch, the neck of the wine bottle about to snap in his grip.

Your dad was taking too long. Was he arming himself before opening the door? Should he tackle and disarm him or take the shot like a man? He should have worn a tac vest.

“Si, relax.” You rubbed his back. “You’re already too tall. You’re going to scare my dad.”

Is that not a good thing?

Your dad (obviously unarmed) tried making small talk with him at lunch, but he sucked at it as much as Simon did, leaving you to do almost all the talking among the pauses. You only received short answers from the men who avoided each other’s gazes.

Also, who the bloody hell put the coriander in the chicken stir-fry?!

“Your dad hates me,” Simon declared as he drove home, the phantom taste of soap persisted on his palate despite the hours between.

“He doesn’t, I promise. He doesn’t even really like Chinese, but picked the place because I told him how much you love it. He really tried, but just doesn’t talk much with new people.” You stifled a laugh. “You should have cracked a few jokes.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “When we get home, I’m going to tickle you until you pass out.”

Home.

You’d made your flat Simon’s home too. You cleared another drawer for him, and another, and another, even when he didn’t have so many possessions. But you let him expand and take up the space he needed. He reordered a set of his ID discs for you to keep on your nightstand.

Things were… easy. Simple, like getting out of bed a little later on weekends. With his nose buried in your hair, arm around your waist pulling you flush to his chest, he held you in silence from dawn until you woke. Listening to your quiet breathing filled his chest heavy with warmth.

You’d asked multiple times if it bored him to be doing nothing, as if he didn’t lay prone behind rifle scopes for hours on end for a living. It didn’t, because being in your presence wasn’t nothing. You were real, and you were his.

You woke with a stir, a smile gracing your lips when you realised he was with you before your eyes opened.

“Good morning, my love.” He slipped the strap of your tank top off before peppering kisses on the nape of your neck down your exposed shoulder.

“Morning, Si.” You reached back to scratch his scalp.

He rolled you onto your back before crawling on top of you, kissing the column on your neck making you giggle with his weekend scruff. He pulled away to admire your eyes, always striking in the warm sun.

“Love looking at you.” You cupped his cheek, tracing the healed cut with your thumb. “You’re so beautiful, Si.”

He leaned in, and you stayed in bed a little longer.

In his shirt, you placed more toasts on the table.

“Two goldfish are in a tank…”

He handed you a buttered toast. “Don’t steal my jokes, luv.”

“It’s too lame to forget.”

“Yeah? ‘Cause I remember you howling at Tesco when I told it.”

“It was your first ever.” You smiled. “My favourite.”

“Why didn’t you tell me I was scary, luv?”

“I’m not sure they teach you to tell the scary bloke he’s scary in self-defence class.” You took a bite of the toast.

“Fair enough.” He shrugged. “Are you out of jam?”

“Forgot to grab some yesterday, but I didn’t forget your limes.”

Simon became a bit of a pie connoisseur. He figured baking was better than sparring with the intention of beating someone up to a pulp. He tried different fruits (even declared himself a pro at peeling) and techniques, and eventually other varieties. That late Saturday morning, it was key lime pie.

“Why’s the cat so small?” you asked as you tied your kitty apron around his waist.

“Why?”

“Because it drank condensed milk.”

He liked that you were becoming more like him. “You too, it seems.”

You mock gasped. “Rude! You know I can take you, Si.”

“Not in a fight.”

You slapped his chest playfully earning a hearty laugh from him.

Volunteering at the soup kitchen became a regular occurrence too, along with his sergeants. Sam ended up dating one of the volunteers’ daughters, the one he was introduced to. Unfortunately, his two other sergeants hadn’t had as much luck on their side. ‘Does your birdie have sisters or friends, sir?’ Eric joked, but it barely masked his hopefulness. You assured you’d ask around if they promised to keep each other safe while deployed.

It got hard at times, when things went sideways and the missions lasted longer, or when he had no way to contact you or wipe the tears off your face.

Somewhere along the way, Simon listed you as his emergency contact. You weren’t supposed to find out this way. Not this soon, not from his captain calling you about how he was unconscious, dying from blood loss from getting his leg slashed.

The first thing he did when he astonishingly woke was to call you. He could ignore the sear on his thigh, or the fact that his eyelids weighed like lead, but not the guilt that sank into the pits of him when you were in a mess of tears.

“I’m so sorry, luv,” he croaked out of his throat that felt like sandpaper. “I mean it. I’ll leave this all behind if that’s what it takes to keep you. You just have to say the word.”

“Si, you don’t... always have to bend yourself backwards for others. I chose you for who you are, and I will keep choosing you, as long as you don’t give up on this. On us.” You sniffled. “Please come home soon. I need you with me.”

Simon was glad you stood by his decision to stay, because that afternoon a year after, as the major pinned on the new insignia onto his uniform, he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face when the mass erupted in applause.

Captain Simon Riley.

Among the crowd, next to Tommy and Beth, her belly carrying his niece, you had your arm around his mum, Joe’s hand in yours. From across the room, your sincere eyes made him feel like a hero, the most desirable man. He knew he wasn’t, but you looked at him like he was sunshine, and maybe, he was to you a little bit.

Nothing changed. Simon was still fatherless, still missed out on the memories a child deserved to have, but was never granted. Still bound to a past that wouldn’t go, but he was more than that.

He thought his dad was the only thing standing in the way of happiness, whatever it meant. He knew now. It wasn’t what he thought he wanted, wasn’t what he imagined, but it was perfect. This was what it was supposed to be like all along.

“For you,” he mouthed.

Simon Riley never wanted to be an oil painting admired by many, but he was, and always had been, a love note sealed with a kiss.

Line art from part 4

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Thank you so much for sticking around until the end :) I greatly appreciate the support and kind words this little story has received. Take care!

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lilacmingi · 2 months ago

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DR. FACILIER (DISNEY VILLAINS AU)

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works. NO SPAM-LIKING PLEASE

Pairing: Dr. Facilier!Mingi x fem!reader

Word count: 8,130

Note: I was rereading over this while drafting it here from my Wattpad and I totally forgot how much I loved it 😫

The sound of the front door being slammed shut echoed throughout your home, followed by the sound of keys being dropped into the glass bowl kept in the foyer.

"You're not gonna believe what just happened." Your brother, Wooyoung, hissed angrily as he stormed into the living room.

"What?" You asked, rolling your eyes.

"I went to that voodoo guy and he screwed me over."

"You what?" You sat upright, giving him a sharp glare. "You know those people are quacks."

"I was curious." He defended.

"What exactly did this guy do?"

"He did some card reading to predict my future and it was horrible."

"I don't see what the problem is. You paid to have your future told."

"He was all upbeat and excited saying that he saw a bright future for me and then when I paid him and pulled cards, he told me I was gonna lose all my money and die alone."

"Seems pretty accurate to me."

"Hey!" He huffed, slapping your arm.

"It's the truth! You lost money on that reading."

"Don't you get it? He made me think I was gonna get a good reading and I didn't. I was tricked."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"I don't know. Something."

"No."

"Do something, Y/n." He whined, shoving your shoulder.

"Cut it out."

"Not until you do something."

"You can take care of it yourself. If you're not satisfied, go talk to the guy."

"If I go back, he'll recognize me. Plus, he has a sign up that says no refunds."

You stared up at the purple and green sign that read: Dr. Song's Voodoo Emporium. There were two torches up on either side of the sign, casting an orange glow on the letters.

You didn't even know why you were there. Maybe you did care that Wooyoung got scammed or maybe you knew he wouldn't quit complaining about losing money if you didn't do something.

"It's now or never." You muttered to yourself before pulling open the creaky door and stepping inside.

"Welcome." A deep and somewhat husky voice greeted you from somewhere in the shadows. "You know, I always say fate brings people into my little shop."

Suddenly, the room was illuminated by many candles and lanterns, all being set aflame on their own and all at once. Stepping out from the dark shadows was a tall, slim man with silvery hair pushed away from his face. He donned an outfit consisting of a vest, an animal print suit jacket, dark trousers, and boots. In his hand was a cane with a gold skull on the end.

"So, darling, do you think fate brought you here?" He asked, extending his hand to you.

"I think you ripping off my brother brought me here." You answered.

He retracted his hand, his strong brows tugging together. "What ever do you mean?"

"You scammed my brother."

"I don't know your brother." He stated.

"You told him you saw a bright future for him and when he got a card reading, you told him he would lose all his money and die alone."

"Sorry to inform you, but I can't control that."

"Yeah, right."

"I swear. It's not me. It's the cards."

"The cards?" You scoffed. "Please."

"It's true. I don't decide people's futures."

"I knew it. You're just a scam artist." You hissed, stalking towards the exit.

"Woah, woah, woah, woah!" The man hurried to stand in front of the door, his hands up as he tried to stop you from leaving.

You sighed, crossing your arms as you waited to hear what he had to say.

"I'm a man who likes to make bargains. So, how about this? I give your brother another reading for free if you let me give you a reading right now."

"You scammed my brother and you think I want a reading from you? No thanks. I'm not interested in your tricks."

"No tricks."

"You're lying. I know how con men like you work."

"Fine. I guess you don't want to help your brother."

"You know that's not true."

"Oh, but it is. If you really wanted to help your brother, you would take this simple deal."

"Why do you want to give me a reading so badly?"

"Can I not give a pretty lady a free reading?"

Your eyes narrowed. "If I do this, you'll give my brother another reading?"

"Of course." He grinned, extending his hand. "What do you say?"

"Fine." You give in, shaking his hand.

"Wonderful." He smiled, gesturing to a round table in the middle of the room. "Have a seat."

I can't believe I'm doing this. You thought to yourself.

"I don't want any funny business, Dr. Song."

"Please, call me Mingi. And I can assure you, no funny business."

In a flash, a deck of tarot cards appeared in his hands. He shuffled through them before fanning them out across the table, three of them sticking out from the rest.

"Oh." Mingi gasped. "It seems fate has already picked for you."

That's weird.

You didn't even see him touch the cards. They just moved on their own.

Mingi flipped the cards over, humming to himself. "Interesting."

"What?" You inquired, leaning forward to get a look at the cards.

"You're lonely, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're lonely." He looked up at you, his dark irises boring into yours.

"No. I'm not."

The corner of Mingi's mouth twitched as a breathy chuckle left him. "You are."

"I'm not. I'm content."

"Are you?"

"I..." You trailed off, swallowing.

Were you lonely? You didn't feel lonely. Not all the time, anyway.

"You've never been one for relationships, have you?" Mingi inquired, tapping on the first card.

"How do you know that?"

"I know all. Past, present, and even the future. And it seems to me that you've always been hesitant of getting into relationships. You say you're content now and, while that may be true, you're unhappy." He tapped on the second card, most likely indicating the present.

"I'm not unhappy." You denied.

"Deep down, you are. I see it clear as day." His sharp eyes stayed focused on you.

You didn't like the way he was looking at you. It felt like he was staring right into your soul, reading your every emotion.

"Let's see your future, shall we?"

He glanced down at the third card, his brows raising in fascination .

"Seems like you're going to find love in an unexpected place." Mingi's head tilted, a strand of silvery hair falling over his forehead. "A very unexpected place."

You blinked a few times, waiting for him to continue. "And?"

"That's all."

"What?"

"That's it."

"What will he look like? Where will I meet him? How long will it be until I meet him?"

"I don't know."

"But you said you could see the past, present, and future."

"To a certain extent. I don't know all the details."

You pressed your lips together, feeling slightly peeved. To your disappointment, you couldn't exactly be mad at him. The reading wasn't a bad one, it just wasn't as detailed as you'd hoped. Part of you wanted to hear more, but the other part wanted to leave that place as quickly as possible.

"You seem rather interested for a person who thinks I'm a scam artist." Mingi smirked.

You immediately backpedaled. "I'm not interested. I just expected more detail."

"That's not how my readings work. In fact, that's not how any readings work. You don't always get what you want."

"Well, I let you give me a reading, so a deal's a deal. You give my brother another reading for free. No tricks."

"Of course." He placed one hand over his chest and raised the other. "I assure you, I'm a man of my word."

"We'll see about that." You turned on your heel, ready to leave the establishment.

"Wait. I never got your name."

"You don't need it."

You reached for the doorknob only to have the lock turned by some strange shadow that resembled Mingi. The sight was unsettling and caused you to step away from the entrance.

You glared over your shoulder at Dr. Song.

"Unlock it."

"I'd like your name first."

"It's Y/n."

The door unlocked in an instant.

"That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

You abruptly pulled the door open, ready to leave. You had only taken one step outside when Mingi called out for you again.

"One more thing."

You huffed out a sigh of annoyance as you turned towards the fortune teller.

"Here's my card." He held a small business card between his middle and index finger, offering it to you. "In case you ever need me."

You took the card from him, knowing you'd never use it.

"I'll see you around, my dear." He waved as he watched you leave the shop.

"I get another reading?" Wooyoung asked.

"Yes. No charge."

"Will it be a good one?" He questioned, skeptically.

"He didn't say."

"What if I get a bad reading again?" He whined.

"You should just be thankful he offered you another for free."

"You're right. Thanks for going down there."

"You're welcome."

"So, should we go down there tomorrow?"

"We? No, no, no, no. There is no we. You're going down there alone. I'm not going back there." You denied.

"Why not?"

"He's annoying."

"That's not a valid excuse."

"I don't see why I have to accompany you."

"What if he tries something? Any tricks, I mean."

"He promised no tricks."

"I still want you to come with me."

And that's how you ended up back at Dr. Song's Voodoo Emporium... again.

"I don't wanna do this." You groaned.

"It won't be that bad. We'll be in and out in no time." Wooyoung assured you.

You highly doubted that.

Your annoyingly optimistic brother stepped inside, pulling you with him.

The shop was lit up better than the previous day, allowing you to see all the strange doodads inside: jars lined up on driftwood shelves, bottles of of every shape and size filled with multicolored liquids, books with foreign symbols on the spines, even animal skulls.

"Well, look who's wandered back into my shop."

You rolled your eyes as Mingi stepped from the shadows, making yet another dramatic entrance.

"It wasn't by choice." You stated.

"I'm here for my free reading." Wooyoung spoke up, stupidly unaware of the tension between you and Mingi.

"Ah, yes. Wooyoung, right?"

Your brother nodded.

"Come. Have a seat. Since your last reading for the future was bad, I'll give you a redo for it."

"Sounds good."

You stood off to the side, giving the two some space. From there, you watched Mingi, making sure he didn't pull any tricks.

He pulled out his deck of tarot cards, shuffling them around before presenting them to Wooyoung.

"Pick three cards and we'll see what your future holds."

Your brother's hand hovered over the cards laid out across the tabletop until he selected his first card, then the second, then the third. Each selection was made carefully, as he didn't want to get another bad reading.

"Alright. Let's see what we have here." Mingi hummed, flipping over the first card.

"Oh. This one is good. It means that you'll have some luck."

Mingi then flipped over the second card.

"Mhm." He hummed, with a nod. "This one could mean that there will be a rough patch for you at some point."

Wooyoung frowned.

Mingi flipped over the last card, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Well, it seems that you'll get through that rough patch and be content in where you are in life."

"Really?" Wooyoung asked.

Mingi nodded.

"What about getting rich? You mentioned that last time before you got me to pay for a reading."

"Ah. Well, I can make that happen for you if you still want it."

Your brows furrowed as you watched their exchange, feeling unsettled by Mingi's words, as well as his shifty behavior.

"Yes!" Your brother answered, enthusiastically. "Is that even possible?"

"Of course it is, Wooyoung. I have friends on the other side that can help me to change your future around."

"Woah. Seriously?"

"Of course. I can make your dreams come true. What do you say?" Mingi extended his hand out towards Wooyoung.

As your brother reached towards Mingi's hand, you saw that shadow from the day before reaching towards Wooyoung. Sensing that something wasn't right, you jumped into action, lunging forward and pulling your naive brother's hand away.

"Don't!"

Wooyoung looked at you with wide eyes and an expression that said, 'What's wrong with you?'

"Are you insane?!" You shrieked.

"No. I'd say I'm the complete opposite actually. I'm about to be rich!"

"No you're not, you idiot. He's trying to trick you. Are you not even the slightest bit worried by these so-called 'friends from the other side'? There could be some serious repercussions to this."

"Uh..." He trailed off.

"Are you seriously going to trust the guy who scammed you?"

His jaw dropped in realization.

"You!" He pointed at Mingi. "You we're trying to trick me again."

"You almost fell for it." He muttered under his breath.

"Unbelievable." You scoffed. "We're leaving."

Wooyoung stood up and the two of you started to walk out.

"Don't be like that." Mingi called out.

"Look, my brother got his free reading and that's that. We're done here."

You didn't allow him any more time to speak as you and Wooyoung left the shop, slamming the door behind you.

"Now do you see why I wanted you to come with me?" Wooyoung asked once the two of you were outside.

"I do. I'm glad I was there, but that doesn't mean I wanted to be."

"You're right. He's a total scam artist."

"I know. Good news is, we won't have to deal with him ever again. You got your free reading, so everything is settled."

Wooyoung gave a nod of finality as the two of you walked away.

You scanned the shelves for any snacks that caught your eye. Wooyoung was in "desperate" need of honey butter chips and annoyed you into going to the convenience store. You figured since you were going out of your way to get his snacks, you might as well get something for yourself.

"Well, would you look at that."

Your brows furrowed at the familiar voice. Turning your head, you spotted someone you didn't expect to see.

Mingi stood at the end of the aisle with one hand resting on his cane and a shopping basket over his other arm, a smug grin on his face.

"You've gotta be kidding me." You muttered.

"What was that?" He asked, walking over.

"Why are you here?" You questioned, ignoring him.

"What does it look like?"

"Stalking."

He chuckled. "Just because we happen to be at the same place at the same time doesn't mean I'm stalking you. You know what I call it?"

"What?"

"Fate."

"Well, I call it annoying." You remarked, walking away.

"Ouch." Mingi hissed. "Those are harsh words."

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have shopping to do."

You left the aisle you were in, not wanting to share the same area with that fraud. You relocated to a different aisle, perusing the snacks there, picking up a couple things. To your disappointment, Mingi had followed you.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

"Because I have no interest in speaking to you. Nor do I have a reason to speak to you."

"That's a shame."

"Yeah. A real shame." You remarked sarcastically.

You tried, yet again, to get away from him, but to no avail. No matter where you went, he followed.

"Why don't you tell me about yourself? Do you have any hobbies?" He inquired.

"Is that your way of flirting? If so, you're doing a terrible job."

He had that same shameless smirk on his face, letting you know that he didn't care that he was annoying you to no end. You already have Wooyoung harassing you at home, you didn't need another one.

"Come on. I wanna know more about you, darling."

"Don't call me that."

"Why?" He asked, leaning over your shoulder. "Does it make your heart race? Hm?"

"No, it makes me want to throw up."

"You are merciless." Chuckled Mingi. "Don't worry, though. I'm a very persuasive man. I'm sure I could get you to change your tune."

Your patience was wearing thin. You didn't know how much more you could take. This man's incessant questions and flirty remarks were beginning to drive you to madness.

"Look," You started, placing a bag of snacks into your basket. "I'm not interested, okay? Nothing you say and nothing you do will change my mind, got it?"

Mingi's brows raised at your harsh words, but you could see that he wasn't affected by them. In fact, he actually had the audacity to smirk.

"We'll see about that."

Weeks passed and every time you left the house, you ran into Mingi. It didn't matter where you went, he was always there. He had somehow found a way to be exactly where you were every single time—and it was annoying.

Mingi's shadow slipped underneath the front door of his shop, slinking across the walls until it got to the office located in the back.

"Ah. There you are." Mingi greeted. "What have you found out?"

His shadow moved close to him, leaning in, telling him something in a hushed voice.

"What's that?" Mingi asked, leaning closer so he could hear better.

His shadow whispered in his ear, a smirk tugging at Mingi's lips as he listened to the information his shadow provided him.

"Ah. So, she's going to an art festival? Perhaps I'll pay her a visit."

You walked along the sidewalk, browsing the tents set up on the street. There were many different artists selling a wide variety of wares. From uniquely-shaped vases to colorful works of art—they had it all. You enjoyed going places alone every once in a while, so when you heard about a nearby art festival, you knew you had to check it out.

Your fingers ran over a canvas painting, feeling the texture of the pigment. Bright colors were spread across the surface, layered and mixed to make different hues and shadows in the artwork.

"This is a really nice painting." You told the vendor. "How long did it take you?"

"Around 48 hours."

"Woah. That's a lot of work."

"It is." The vendor nodded. "But, I enjoy it, so I don't even realize how much time passes."

You smiled softly.

You loved hearing about the interests and hobbies of others, especially how they enjoy it so much it doesn't feel like work or that they get so immersed in it that they lose track of time.

"Fate just keeps bringing us together."

The soft smile on your face fell immediately.

That better not be who I think it is.

You slowly turned towards Mingi who stood behind you, propped on his cane that he constantly carried with him.

Every time you saw him, he was wearing some sort of vest and jacket, each one with a different pattern or color. Today was no different, except that there were round glasses perched on his nose. You had to admit, the spectacles made him appear softer in a way.

You paused.

The mere thought that Mingi looked softer put you back in your place. You quickly reminded yourself that this man was a scam artist (and a stalker, apparently) and shook away any thoughts about him being remotely soft, pushing them away to the deepest corners of your mind, hoping they wouldn't resurface.

You told the vendor goodbye and wished them luck on their sales before approaching Mingi, your expression cold and void of any emotion except anger and annoyance.

"If you don't quit stalking me, I'm going to call the cops."

"The cops? I'd like to see them try and do something." He chuckled.

"Why can't you just leave me alone? I only visited your measly little shop to right a wrong for my brother. The deal is done. I have no business with you any more, so I don't know why you keep following me around."

Mingi tilted his head to the side, an amused expression plastered on his face.

"What do you want from me?" You asked flat-out, not cutting any corners.

"I want you, Y/n."

You weren't expecting that answer at all. You tried to cover up the fact that you were caught off guard, responding in a cold voice.

"You can't have me."

"Is that a challenge?" He raised a brow.

"No. It's a statement."

You turned on your heel, leaving him standing on the sidewalk. You didn't care that you had ditched him. After all, he's the one who encroached on your day out.

A nearby tent caught your attention. The vendor had many intricate wood carvings on display. They were so beautiful that you stopped for a moment to admire them, complimenting the man on his incredible handiwork. You chatted with him for a moment, asking how he makes such complex creations. You ended up purchasing a small keychain with a carving of a skull hanging from it.

You continued down the street, taking a few moments to check out anything that caught your eye. One of those items was a medium-sized canvas with multicolored neon shapes painted on the surface. The background was black, making the vibrant hues stand out. You loved it and you had to have it.

Greeting the woman running the booth, you immediately picked up the canvas, mentioning how much you loved it. After glancing at the price, you decided you would purchase it. You looked down only for a moment, digging through your wallet to retrieve some cash for the lady. You had just counted out the money when a hand extended past you, neatly folded bills held between two slender, ring-clad fingers.

"I got it covered."

The lady took the money, thanking the person. You turned to see Mingi behind you, his tall form leaned over you slightly. You had to keep it together long enough for the vendor to hand you the canvas which had been placed in a plastic shopping bag. You gave her a friendly smile and wished her luck on the rest of her sales before walking away so she wouldn't hear you scream at Mingi.

As much as you wanted to think he bought that for you out of the kindness of his heart, you knew he didn't. He had something up his sleeve.

"Aren't you gonna thank me?" Mingi asked before you had the chance to say anything to him.

"No."

"Ah. Well, I suppose that's fine. However, you do owe me."

"I beg your pardon?" You asked, stopping in your tracks.

"You owe me." He repeated.

"I don't owe you anything."

"Oh, but you do. I just paid for that painting."

"That was your choice. I had nothing to do with it."

"You still owe me."

"You know what?" You muttered, digging through your wallet. You pulled out enough money to cover the cost of the painting, shoving the cash into his chest. He stumbled a bit, placing his hand over the money to keep it from falling.

"I paid you back. We're square now." You told him.

"Did you?" He raised a brow.

You narrowed your eyes at him as he showed you an empty hand. You looked in your wallet, then began patting down your pockets, reaching into one of them, pulling out the wad of cash you'd just given to Mingi.

"Wh-what? How did you—"

"Like I said, you owe me."

"You... you..." Trailing off, you tried to find the right words to describe the man in front of you. "You snake!"

He seemed unfazed by the attempted insult.

"Whatever it is you're wanting me to do, I won't do it." You snapped.

"Spend the day with me." He told you.

"You really think I want to spend the day watching you scam people? No thanks."

"Would you rather do something else? I'm sure I could think of other ways for you to make it up to me." He told you, his eyes looking you up and down.

Your mouth fell open. "You sicko."

"That's not what I meant." He huffed. "Look, I just want you to spend the day with me, that's all. Come hang out at my shop with me."

"I'm not interested." You told him, sternly.

"Excuse me, young lady." Someone called out, catching your attention.

You turned towards the voice to see where it was coming from. A man in a black coat wearing many odd necklaces made of bone stepped out into the street.

"Me?" You pointed to yourself.

"Yes."

"What is it?" You inquired, stepping towards the man's tent, noticing all the unique and odd jewelry he sold.

"You are quite a stunning young woman."

"Oh. Thank you." You responded, thrown off by the strange and sudden compliment.

"I think you'd look lovely wearing this necklace." He grabbed a black velvet box from behind the table, opening it up to show you the product.

The chain was silver and on the end was a unique pendant, one that you'd never seen before. An iridescent stone was encased in intricate, silver designs. The gemstone is what really caught your attention. It changed colors in the light, looking purple from one direction, then a green-ish teal color from the other. But, if you looked at it straight on, it was a mix of colors—it was enchanting.

"It's beautiful." You commented.

"I made it myself." The man told you, removing it from the box. "Go on. Have a look. You can try it on if you'd like."

You stepped forward, your hand reaching for the necklace. Just then, Mingi's hand shot out, grabbing onto your wrist before you could even touch the pendant. You turned to him with a questioning look on your face.

"Sorry, but we're not interested." He told the man in a stern tone, his voice dangerously low.

The vendor gave Mingi a hard glare as you were dragged away.

"What was that about?" You asked once the man was out of earshot.

"There was a bad energy surrounding that necklace." Mingi responded, his face solemn. "It's probably cursed."

"Cursed? Why would someone try to sell me a cursed necklace?"

"There are dangerous people in the world who love meddling with the lives of others."

"Isn't that what you do?"

"No. I help people. Sometimes I have sneaky ways of doing it, but it's nothing like what that man does."

"You both trick people. I don't see the difference." You stated.

"That may be true, but at least I don't try and sell people cursed items."

You were about to tease him for admitting that he indeed scams people, but you knew all along, so there was no need to joke about it.

You did feel a little touched by the fact that he stopped you from getting a malediction from a cursed necklace. You honestly didn't think he had it in him.

"I'll spend the day with you." You spoke up.

"What?" Mingi turned to you, his normally sharp and narrow eyes now wide in surprise, glimmering with hope.

You had to stop yourself from fawning over how insanely adorable his eyes were.

You cleared your throat before repeating yourself. "I'll spend the day with you."

"Really? What made you change your mind?"

"You just saved me from catching a curse. I guess I owe you for that."

The very next day you found yourself standing in Mingi's voodoo shop again, this time on your own volition. You walked around the room, getting a good look at everything inside. If you were going to be there all day, you might as well make the most of it.

He had all sorts of strange knickknacks, trinkets, and novelties. One of those being lucky rabbit foot keychains. You figure that was typical for a voodoo shop. On the driftwood shelf, besides all the strange liquid-filled bottles, there appeared to be elixirs and bath salts, some promising good luck, while others just promised a boost of energy. In a basket under a wall of ominous-looking masks were dozens of voodoo dolls.

"Do people actually use these?" You asked.

"They sure do, my dear." Mingi answered.

"Seriously?" You turned towards him. "Do they work?"

"Would you like to test one and find out?"

You recoiled your hand, not liking how confident his tone was. "No thanks."

"Very well. The offer is still on the table if you change your mind." He hummed, straightening his jacket and smoothing his hair out.

The door to the shop opened, catching your attention. A customer stepped inside, looking around the small building.

"Ah. Welcome." Mingi greeted. "Is there anything I can help you with on this fine morning?"

"I was told you do card readings." The young man spoke.

"I do indeed. Have a seat."

You watched as Mingi's shadow moved across the floor, pulling the chair out for the customer. Every time you saw his shadow move, you got a shiver down your spine. Something wasn’t right. It may be Mingi's shadow, but it seems to have a mind of its own and is beyond his control.

"Am I interrupting something?" The man asked, noticing your presence.

"No. She's just watching me work, that's all." Mingi brushed it off. "So, what would you like to know? Your future? Or maybe there's a certain someone you have your eye on and you want to see if you'll win them over. Hm?" He raised a curious brow.

"Y-yes! How'd you know that?" The man questioned.

"I know everything. I can see right into your heart and soul." He responded, shuffling his tarot cards.

"Wow."

Mingi then began the card reading, holding them out to the customer. He selected his cards and Mingi begin interpreting each one. He shook his head, making a tsk sound.

"Seems like you won't ever get with this girl."

"What?" The man frowned.

"Yes. The cards are telling me that she'll find someone else."

You crossed your arms, upset by the man's reading.

"Aw. Don't look so down." Mingi cooed, placing the end of his cane under the man's chin, using it to lift the his head. "I have something that'll help win her heart."

"Really?" The man's face lit up instantly.

"Of course." Mingi stood from his chair, striding over to a cabinet. He retrieved a small box, carrying it over to the table. He open it up revealing a beautiful necklace with a heart- shaped charm.

"That's beautiful."

"It's powerful too."

"What?"

"The necklace is charmed. If you put it on her, she'll fall in love with you."

"For real?"

Mingi nodded.

"Hm." The man hummed. "Do you have anything else?"

Mingi seemed disappointed, but turned up the charm, smiling brightly. "Of course."

He strode over to the shelf of bottles, retrieving one of them. "How about a love potion?"

You rolled your eyes.

Yeah, right.

"A love potion?" The customer parroted.

"Yes. If you give her some of this, she'll fall for you instantly."

"Really? How do you know?"

"I got it from my friends on the other side. They can make all sorts of magic potions."

"Woah."

Friends on the other side?

He's said that before. As far as you know, you've only seen his shadow, so who are these friends of his?

"How much?" The man asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

You cleared your throat, grabbing Mingi's attention. You stared at him intently, shaking your head no, silently telling him not to trick that man.

"Excuse me a moment." Mingi walked over to you, making sure you were both far enough from the man that he wouldn't hear.

"What are you doing?" You whispered harshly.

"Business." He responded, plainly.

"No you're not. You're scamming. What's the truth behind that necklace? And that so-called love potion?"

"Well, they both really do work. If he uses the love potion, he has to be the first person she sees. The necklace only works when she's wearing it. And as soon as the necklace is clasped around her neck, her soul immediately belongs to my friends on the other side."

"What?!" You whisper-yelled trying not to completely freak out. "You're gonna let him sell this girl's soul without knowing?"

"If he chooses the necklace, yeah."

"How can you be so nonchalant about this? Do you not have any remorse?"

"I have to please my friends on the other side."

"What?"

"You see, doll. I have these friends—beings, if you will. They help me make things become a reality for people, but they need something in return. I do the bidding for them and give them what they want, and in return, they give me something I want."

"That's sick." You spat.

"It's just business, dear." He brushed you off, returning to his unsuspecting customer.

"So, what do you say?" He asked, taking his place back at the table.

"How much for the necklace?"

"Free of charge." Mingi smiled. "All I ask is payment for the card reading. That's it."

The customer was enticed by the offer and was ready to accept.

Knowing what you know now, you didn't want the poor guy to get caught up in a bigger mess. You stared Mingi down, shaking your head. He stared back, his eyes not leaving yours for a long moment as he reconsidered. Then, before the customer could answer, he spoke up.

"Actually," Mingi started. "Forget the necklace, the potion too. There's another way you can possibly change the outcome of all this."

"Really? How?"

"What you need to do is take her out. Ask her on a date and see where it goes from there."

"Are you sure?"

Mingi nodded. "I can't guarantee that it will work, but it's worth a shot. The sooner you do it, the better. That way no one else snags her before you."

"Okay. I think I can muster up the courage to ask her. Thank you so much." The man smiled, pulling money from his pocket. "I'll definitely try that."

Mingi took the cash from him. "Before you go, take this." He grabbed a rabbit's foot keychain, placing it into the man's hand. "Good luck."

"Wow. Thanks a lot!" The customer beamed, leaving the shop.

As soon as the door closed, the fortune teller turned to you.

"Are you happy? You probably screwed me out of a customer." He grumbled, counting the cash.

You saw his eyes widen before he began to frantically recount the bills in his hand.

"He paid me extra."

"What?"

"He paid me a few dollars more than what I charge." He gaped.

"Really?"

"Yeah. He must have really liked my advice." Mingi smiled, shoving the money into his pocket. "I'm a genius."

"You wouldn't have given that advice had I not stopped you from completely ruining his life."

He pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes. "Fine. I suppose you have a point."

Throughout the day, you watched Mingi give readings to people and try to sell them items that you knew had a twisted backstory to them. Somehow, you were able to get him to rethink things and give his customers an actual solution to their problems rather than scamming them into purchasing something that would possibly ruin their lives.

All in all, you'd say your time spent with Mingi wasn't all that bad and you were glad that you were able to possibly save the souls of a few people during your time in the shop.

"Well, today was... enlightening to say the least." You said. "I should go now."

You prepared to leave until Mingi stopped you.

"Would you like something to eat before you go home? You've been here all day and neither of us have eaten. I'll pay."

"You won't use it as an excuse to say I owe you again, will you?"

"No." He shook his head. "Promise."

You were pretty hungry and you couldn't turn down free food, so you agreed. A delivery order was called in shortly. You assisted Mingi in tidying up his shop after a long day while you waited for your meal to be delivered.

Half an hour passed and you found yourself sitting at the round table in the middle of the shop chatting with Mingi while the two of you ate.

"So, what did you think?" Mingi asked, grabbing a large bite of ramen.

"Well, I didn't like how you tried to trick people. I did, however, like what you told them after you chose to be honest."

He couldn't help but feel proud of himself after hearing your words. At first, he was angry that you made him feel guilty for attempting to scam people, but as the day went on, he realized it wasn't so bad. He'd have to find a way to make up for it when he contacts his friends on the other side later, but he wasn't really worried about that at the moment. He was having a wonderful time with you.

Mingi's shadow was agitated that you managed to get in his head and talk him out of striking any deals. The shadow knew you were bad news from the start. You deterred Mingi from doing many tasks, which caused his friends on the other side to become impatient. What happened today would be the cherry on top. They would show him no mercy if he continued this behavior.

"So, the voodoo dolls do work?" You questioned.

"Of course."

"I bet you sell those to people without warning them of the consequences." You commented.

"On the contrary. I actually do warn people before they buy those. I don't want anyone to do something they'll regret."

You looked at Mingi's expression and the way his eyes stared into yours. He was telling the truth.

"Hm. So you do care for your customers." You teased playfully.

He let out a chuckle. "Of course I do."

"This food is great, by the way. Thanks for buying."

"It's the least I could do. I know you didn't exactly want to be here today."

"Actually, if I'm being honest, it wasn't all that bad. Also, I appreciated the way you protected me yesterday when that weirdo tried to sell me a cursed necklace. I felt like I really did owe you."

"I just didn't want you to get yourself in a messy situation. Truth is, I care about you a lot." Mingi admitted.

His words surprised you and made your heart melt at the same time.

Before you could process what was going on, Mingi's shadow lunged for you, knocking you from your chair, pinning you to the ground.

You let out a yelp, struggling to pull yourself off the floor. You couldn't help but wonder how a shadow was so strong.

"Hey!" Mingi shouted. "What are you doing?"

He got up from his seat so fast, his chair nearly fell over. "Get off of her!" He roared, his voice so gravelly and threatening that it sent a shiver down your spine.

Then, you felt the ghostly grip on your wrists disappear. You pushed yourself into a sitting position, your heart pounding violently against your rib cage.

"Y/n." Mingi panted. "I'm so sorry. I... it's never done that before. I swear I had nothing to do with it."

"I need to go home." You responded, your mind in a haze.

"Wait. Please—"

"I can't handle this." You told him, heading towards the door. "I'm sorry. I need to leave."

That's the last time Mingi saw you.

You were in the middle of cleaning your room, tossing things you didn't want into a donate box and throwing away invoices from past online orders and other paper junk into the trash.

There was a knock on the front door, but you paid no mind to it, assuming your brother would answer it since you had your hands full at the moment.

However, the knocking persisted.

"Wooyoung! Can you not hear there's someone at the door?" You shouted down the hallway.

"Yeah." He called back from the living room.

"Are not gonna answer it? I'm kinda busy."

"You do it. I'm in the middle of a drama."

You let out a long sigh, stomping into the living room.

"Can you not pause it?"

"No." He responded, his eyes glued to the TV.

"You're unbearable." You said through gritted teeth, going to answer the door.

The person on the other side was not who you were expecting.

Mingi stood at your doorstep, his head hanging low. You would have told him to go away had you not noticed he wasn't wearing his usual getup. Instead of his customary vest and cardigan or suit jacket combo, he had on a white dress shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks. It was much more toned-down than the outfits he usually wore.

Before you could open your mouth, he spoke.

"I'm done."

"What?"

"I cut ties with the shadow realm."

"Why?"

"For you."

"For me?" You parroted.

He nodded. "This crooked and shady life I'm living isn't the life I want. Especially if it ends up hurting you."

"This isn't a trick... is it?" You inquired.

He shook his head.

"So, let me get this straight. You cut ties with those friends of yours for me?"

"I did."

"And what about your...shadow?" Your eyes trailed to look at the shape cast along the concrete walkway behind him.

He followed your gaze, noticing your uneasy behavior. "It's gone. Just a normal shadow now. Cutting ties got rid of all the abilities I had."

"I see."

"I'm really sorry about what happened that evening at my shop. I had no control over my shadow. It just attacked without warning. Truthfully, I think it's because it knew—"

"Y/n! Who's at the door?" Wooyoung shouted from the living room, cutting Mingi off.

You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes.

"None of your business!" You shouted back before turning to Mingi. "I'm sorry about him."

"It's fine. Maybe we could just stand outside and talk." He suggested. "That way we have some privacy."

"Good idea."

You stepped outside, closing the front door so Wooyoung wouldn't try to eavesdrop.

"Alright. You were saying?"

"Right. My shadow... I think it knew that I was going soft."

"Going soft?" You inquired.

"Yes." He nodded, taking in a deep breath like he was preparing to say something extremely important. "Y/n, I was drawn to you from the start. I got my shadow to follow you around after you first came to my shop. That's how I always knew where you were. I just wanted to see you any chance I got. Then, my feelings began to get more serious and I wanted to do things to make you happy. I wanted to protect you. I guess my shadow realized that I was becoming soft and drifting from my old ways. It tired to hurt you because it thought you were getting in the way."

There was so much information to take in. Mingi had his shadow follow you? But, he likes you and obviously cares for you. Not only that, but he's changing his ways for you. He cut ties with the shadow realm for you. That's a pretty big commitment.

"You were right for calling me a stalker. In a way, I was. I'm sorry." He apologized.

"Actually, it's okay. Technically, it wasn't you following me. Also, I can see that you've changed drastically. You're not the same voodoo shop owner I met a month ago."

Mingi's heart soared hearing you say that. Knowing that he had, at the very least, earned your trust was a big accomplishment for him.

"So, would you maybe be willing to give us a chance?" He asked, softly, his hands finding yours.

Your eyes landed on your joined hands, looking at the way his large ones encased your smaller ones.

"I think..." You trailed off, looking back up at Mingi. "I think I'd be up for that."

His eyes became wide, looking rounder and more innocent, sparkling with hope.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You nodded.

Being caught in the moment, Mingi started to lean in, only to catch himself before he got too close.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, softly. His voice barely above a whisper. He didn't want to do anything you weren't okay with.

"You can."

Mingi then closed the narrow gap between your faces, his full and plush lips pressing delicately against yours. Your eyes fluttered closed immediately, melting into the kiss. His large hands let go of yours, holding the small of your back, pulling you against him. The closeness had your heart racing. You had never experienced anything like this before. You were feeling emotions and feelings you had never felt in your life. A rush of heat flooded your body and it felt like butterflies were running rampant in your stomach. All these new feelings were overwhelming but so amazing.

The feeling of Mingi's hands running up and down your back sent tingles up your spine, making you feel warm from the inside out.

Your fingers latched onto the ends of his silvery hair, grabbing at the long strands in the back. Based on the sigh he let out against your lips, he liked that.

After a while, you pulled away, feeling short of breath. You and Mingi stared at each other for a few moments, both of you panting, trying to catch your breath. Mingi's partially exposed chest rose up and down with each huff as his hooded eyes stared into yours. Your arms were wrapped around his slim waist, holding him tightly, not wanting to let go.

"You were right." You spoke up, still breathless.

"What do you mean?"

"About finding love in an unexpected place."

You could see Mingi's cheeks tint pink.

That's exactly what he said to you after your card reading. At the time, Mingi could see into the future, but even he didn't know who you would end up with. He had no idea he would be the one.

"I guess I found love in an unexpected place too." He admitted.

"Why do you seem so surprised? I thought you knew everything." You teased with a smirk.

He couldn't help but grin.

"As much as I hate to, I'd better get back inside. You know, before Wooyoung comes out here and starts harassing me."

"Right." Mingi chuckled.

"I'd like to see you again." You told him as you went to open the front door.

"You have my card. Just give me a call." He winked. "We'll sort something out."

Hongjoong: Hades ⟡ Seonghwa: Maleficent ⟡ Yunho: Captain Hook ⟡ Yeosang: Evil Queen ⟡ San: Cruella de Vil ⟡ Wooyoung: Hyena ⟡ Jongho: Gaston

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zepskies · 1 year ago

Text

Smoke Eater - Part 6

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 7,000 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort

Part 6: “Just Casual”

A few days after the house fire that claimed the life of Paul Richardson, father of two, Chief Bobby Singer was joined in his office by Detectives Winchester and Novak, along with his resident Squad Captain and Truck Lieutenant, Benny and Dean.

“The Richardson fire has officially been determined an arson,” Bobby revealed.

“They found a time-delay incendiary device hidden in the attic. No fingerprints. But that’s not even the odd thing,” he said. “The medical examiner found a brand mark on his wrist that was inconsistent with his other burns. Which is why you’re here, I reckon.”

Bobby directed his gaze at both John and Cas, who didn’t look surprised to hear this news.

Dean raised a brow. His gaze shifted to his father, but John only met his stare for a moment before he answered Bobby’s unspoken question.

“We’ve been investigating a series of murders in the area over the past six months,” John said. “Each victim died in their home, with the same brand somewhere on their body. Typically the wrist, or the back of the neck.”

“So we officially have a serial killer turned arsonist on our hands,” Bobby concluded. His attention shifted to Benny and Dean. “Keep this close to the vest, but keep your eyes open.”

“Arsonists are hard to catch,” Dean said, looking to the detectives. “What do you know about this guy?”

Cas glanced at John. The older man could feel his stare, but had to ignore it for now.

“Not much as of yet,” John said. “Right now he’s a coil of smoke, if you’ll pardon the phrase. Our psychologist says he’s most likely a white male, statistically speaking. College educated, or at the very least intelligent, efficient, and so far, he thinks every step through. Like he said, no prints. But the brand is a message.”

“To who, and why, is what we’ve been trying to figure out,” Cas added. “We think that’s the key to pinpointing a suspect.”

“Really,” Dean said. He raised a brow and crossed his arms. “Six months, and that’s all you’ve got?”

“Dean,” John started, but the Lieutenant shook his head.

“Come on, Dad. I know you. Who is this guy?”

“Dean, this is the best I can give you right now, but believe me, we’re working on it,” John said, that tone that boded no further argument.

Bullshit, Dean wanted to shoot back. But he held his tongue for now. He knew that John wouldn’t budge. Instinct still told Dean that his father was holding something back though.

As the men filtered out of Bobby’s office, Dean held Cas back for a moment.

“Watch the old man’s back, all right,” Dean said. “He’s got a penchant for being reckless.”

Cas gave him a wry, pointed look. “I’m doing my best. Winchesters are a stubborn lot.”

Dean smirked and walked out with him. Meg was headed inside, having just come in from an ambulance call. She smiled when she saw her boyfriend.

“Hey, lover,” she greeted. And she smacked his ass in front of God and the entire Rescue Squad, who liked to sit outside the firehouse and play cards at their table.

Ramirez and the others smirked and called out their customary whoops and cat calls. Dean smirked at the actual blushing discomfort that tightened up Cas’s face and shoulders.

“Dinner tonight at Casablanca’s, right?” Meg asked, unfazed by the catcalling peanut gallery.

“Right,” Cas said stiffly. But he still brushed her cheek with his thumb in affection. “See you later.”

“Yep,” she nodded, though she shot Dean a wry brow. “What? I stole your boyfriend. Get over it.”

She continued on her path back inside the firehouse, leaving Dean and Cas to stare after her in annoyance and begrudging fondness, respectively.

Dean turned to his friend and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Good luck and Godspeed, my friend. That woman’s fuckin’ terrifying.”

Cas gave him a lazy salute as he walked away. He found that John had already started up their police car. He was in the driver’s seat, as always, with a hand resting casually on the steering wheel.

Dean typically sat in much the same way. Cas thought both men were more comfortable in a car than anywhere else in life. Except, maybe, the precinct and the firehouse.

Cas slid into the passenger seat and gave his partner a knowing look.

“I still think you should tell Sam and Dean what’s really happening here,” he said.

John looked over at him with an almost unreadable expression. But they had been partners for a few years now; long enough for Cas to get a read on the older veteran.

“I understand why you want to keep them out of this, but now this guy is starting fires. Here, in Dean’s district,” Cas pointed out. “Wouldn’t it be safer for him if he had clearer eyes walking into the next one?”

If, God forbid, something should go wrong on the next call Dean responded to, John would never forgive himself. Both he and Cas knew this, but John never answered his partner’s question. He didn’t want his sons getting their noses in this just yet, even if it meant the worry he saw in Dean’s eyes.

So he put the car in “drive” and peeled away from the firehouse.

Trying to match your schedule with Dean’s was a challenge you two were trying to figure out. Though you’d fallen into a pattern of talking on the phone to fill the void when you two couldn’t meet.

Even after almost two more weeks and a third date, you were pleasantly surprised that you and Dean still had plenty to talk about. You told him more about your childhood with your grandparents, while he told you funny stories about him and Sam growing up with their dad, though he was often gone while working on cases.

It was family friend and Fire Chief, Bobby Singer who looked after them whenever John couldn’t, or his old partner Jody Mills, or even Ellen Harvelle, owner of the Roadhouse.

The more you learned about Dean, the more invested you became. And he listened to you when you went on tangents about new recipes you wanted to try out (as long as he got to be your official Taste Tester).

You two argued, playfully and fervently, about music. And you’d been creating a list of old shows the other hadn’t seen, but absolutely needed to.

Dean had suggested Dukes of Hazzard, for example, while you suggested Smallville. You each only agreed to put up with this list if you two watched it together. (Needless to say, there would be some marathon binge watching in your future.)

You particularly took notice though, when Dean invited you to join him at the Roadhouse to meet Cas, one of his best friends, and his girlfriend Meg. You’d invited Andréa to come along, and even Dean’s friend Benny, who she’d also been seeing ever since that night at the Roadhouse.

Apparently, the couple had their own plans.

You tried not to feel some type of way about her brush-off, but your friend had been increasingly distant since she met Benny Lafitte. However, you supposed you couldn’t judge. You hadn’t been calling her as much either, ever since you met Dean.

You knew that if you kept dating him, some adjustments would have to come in your life. You also promised yourself that you’d never be someone who forgot your friends for a man…even for a man like Dean Winchester.

Tonight, however, you’d come directly from work to meet him at the bar. It made more sense than to make him come pick you up from your house, so you sat with a ginger ale while you waited. He’d promised you via text that he was on the way, just stuck in traffic.

Okay, drive safe. 😘 Don’t speed, please.

You knew how he liked floor the Impala with that damn lead foot of his.

No promises. 🏎️

You wanted to roll your eyes, but you were smiling unconsciously as you read his reply.

You were soon knocked out of your thoughts when a smooth voice said your name. You looked up and to your right, and there stood a familiar face. The man greeted you with an easy smile as he sat down next to you.

“I thought that was you,” he said. He reached out his hand and re-introduced himself. “Gordon Walker. Not sure if you remember me.”

“Oh, yes! Of course I do, Gordon,” you smiled and shook his hand.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said. His dark eyes subtly took you in from head to toe in your skirt, heels, and blouse. “Though I’ve gotta admit, I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Ah, right,” you said. “Well—”

Before you could explain, Gordon held up a finger as he noticed your drink of choice.

“Oh, wait a sec. Let me get you something stronger than soda,” he said. He started to flag down Jo, but you shook your head and made a cutting motion with your hand.

“Uh, no, that’s okay,” you said. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“What?” Gordon asked.

It was getting busy in the bar, making it loud enough that you could understand why he hadn’t heard you. You leaned over towards his ear.

“I’m good for now, thanks,” you said, raising your voice a bit. Gordon leaned in even closer and chanced resting a hand above your knee.

“You sure?” he asked. He gave you a smile that was all smooth sex appeal and confidence, without being arrogant.

It was undoubtedly attractive, but you were more shocked than charmed in your blush. You instinctively leaned back when you felt his hand on your thigh. Your hand clenched on the counter.

While your brain scrambled to figure out a response that would successfully remove it (without snapping rudely like you were itching to), a hand slipped along your lower back.

You jolted a bit in your seat with a flare of unease, until you turned your head and found Dean.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted, and dropped a kiss at your hairline. He also clapped a heavy hand on Gordon’s shoulder and squeezed. The other man graciously got the hint and leaned back, withdrawing his hand from your thigh.

“Hi,” you said, finally able to breathe a bit easier. You gave Dean a smile, and he returned it.

He looked over at his friend with a sharper smile. “Hey, Gord. How’s your night goin’?”

“Good.” Gordon nodded, now with a knowing gleam in his eye. “Though I’m sure your night’s gonna go better.”

You weren’t sure how to take that remark, considering the way Dean reacted with a tighter expression and pursed lips. Then, they flickered at a smile.

“Well, we’re meeting up with Meg and Cas in a minute. You should join us,” Dean said. Even though his tone wasn’t so very inviting. The two men seemed to have a wordless conversation between the lines that you couldn’t decipher.

Gordon shook his head, but raised his drink. “No worries, you guys hang. I’m leaving in a few.”

“All right. Let us know if you change your mind,” Dean said. He thumped Gordon once more on the back, more friendly this time.

Dean’s other hand slipped around your waist. He tapped you on the side.

“Come on, I’ve got us a table. It’s quieter,” he said.

You nodded and slid out of your seat. You offered Gordon a polite smile, even if you’d rather not.

“Have a good night,” you said.

The other man’s smile was less flirtatious and more polite this time as well.

“You too,” he said.

Dean helped you onto your feet, like the gentleman he was, and he continued to lead you away from the bar with a hand on the small of your back. You instinctively pressed against his side to squeeze past the throng of patrons.

When you reached a high-top table in the corner, he pulled out your chair and held your hand as you climbed up in your skirt. You thanked him with a more genuine smile. Though once he was seated next to you, you leaned towards him and laid a hand on his arm, which rested on the table.

“I tried to tell him I was waiting for you. He took me by surprise,” you whispered.

Dean’s brows rose, but his face soon evened out with a smile. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Don’t worry about it. He didn’t know about us,” he said. “He was shootin’ his shot…a bit aggressively. Sorry about that.”

“Oh…it’s okay. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” you replied. Though butterflies ran through your belly when you considered what us meant.

You noted his frown at what you’d said though, and so you aimed to change the subject.

“But Cas and Meg know, right?” you asked.

Dean nodded. His frown started to lift. “Yeah. Cas is one of my best friends. Meg is…well. She’s the little sister I wish I didn’t have.”

You shook your head in amusement. Then you let out a squeal as Dean hooked a foot around the leg of your chair and brought you closer. He stopped you from becoming too unbalanced by wrapping an arm around your waist. You clenched your hands into the open panels of his plaid shirt, and his charming smile greeted you.

“Hi,” he said.

You laughed. “Yeah, you mentioned that earlier.”

“Well, I’m doing it right this time,” he said. And he dipped down for a lingering kiss.

Across the bar was Jo Harvelle, doing her job behind the counter. She poured five shots in succession and doled them out to a party of frat bros without even looking.

Her eyes were drawn to the back corner of the bar, where you and Dean sat closely together, exchanging whispers and the occasional steamy kiss.

“Mind your business,” came Ellen’s whisper in her ear.

Jo whipped her head to glare softly at her mother, but she saw Ellen’s point. It was both obvious and pathetic of her to stare.

Despite the unease making her feel a bit sick to her stomach, Jo went over to Gordon down at the end. His sympathetic smile bothered her; she knew then she hadn’t just been caught by her mother.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” he remarked.

“What?” Jo said. She began wiping down his area of the counter. “Would it kill you to keep it in the glass?”

Gordon gave her an amused look as he sat back in his seat. His tumbler of whiskey was drained.

“Look, I’m sorry, all right?” he said.

Both of them knew he wasn’t apologizing for the spill.

Jo’s brows knitted together, mostly in annoyance. “Again, for what?”

“I know it’s gotta be hard to see him actually moving on,” he replied.

Her lips pursed, and her eyes darted to the back of the room again. She stared for a moment at the side of your face.

“Knowing him, whatever it is won’t last,” she muttered.

Gordon hissed at the "burn," with a deep chuckle. She knew her words weren’t kind, but it was how she felt.

“That may be,” he allowed. “But he’s not just chasing tail anymore. That’s what scares you.”

Gordon dropped a nice tip for her next to his glass. He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and left Jo with the churning in her gut.

Cas and Meg finally arrived a few minutes later.

Dean knew you’d been to the Roadhouse before, but this was different. You were meeting some of his friends, and he realized how much he wanted you to. He felt…comfortable around you. And he wanted his friends to know you, and to like you.

“As you know, Meg’s our Paramedic in Charge over at 25,” he began, gesturing at the woman as she got settled in her seat.

You admired her long brown hair, tall boots, and black leather jacket. She seemed to ooze confidence and dark charisma as she tossed you a smirk.

“Guilty,” she said.

You smiled back. Dean gestured at her boyfriend next, clad in a beige trench coat, slacks, and blazer.

“And Cas, who bravely suffers being my dad’s partner on the job.”

Cas nodded wryly at the introduction. His dark hair and blue eyes were striking, you could admit. His tie was loose and slightly rumpled. Along with the stubble coating his face, he was handsome, if a bit scruffy. It was hard for you to believe he’d earned the top scores his year in the Police Academy, but you supposed that looks could be deceiving.

“What’s that like?” you asked with a smirk. “From what I’ve heard about John Winchester, he sounds like he’s a bit of a hard-ass.”

Dean barked with a dry laugh. “An understatement.”

“He has a crab-like shell,” Cas agreed. “But he has a soft center where it counts, not unlike his sons.”

You turned to Dean with a more teasing smile. “Aww…”

He rolled his eyes, even though his arm, which had been draped across the back your chair, now dropped to curl around your waist.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Columbo,” he remarked at his blue-eyed friend.

Always had to get the last dig in, it seemed, but you couldn’t help but laugh a little along with Meg at Cas’s expense.

“You guys all seem really close,” you said. It was nice for you to see.

Dean shrugged like it was no big deal. Or rather, like it was commonplace.

“Well, maybe family ain’t just about blood,” he said.

Meg rolled her eyes. “Ugh. What a friggin’ sap.”

“You love it,” Dean grinned. She smiled, begrudgingly.

Family ain’t just about blood.

You liked that sentiment as well. It seemed to be true here.

Even Ellen Harvelle treated Dean like a son when she came over to greet your table. She kissed his cheek and gave Meg and Cas’s shoulders a squeeze. Even you got a warm hand on your shoulder when she introduced herself.

“Welcome, hun. I understand it’s not your first time here, but if you got any questions on the menu, you let me know,” she said.

Dean shot you a conspiratorial smile, and it got you wondering what he was about to do.

“I mean, I don’t know why you don’t put the order in for chili fries the second you see me come through the door,” he teased. “Come on, Ellen. How long’ve I been coming here? Since before I had a license?”

Ellen narrowed her eyes and flicked the side of Dean’s head, regardless of his flinching protest.

“Don’t you go sayin’ that so damn loud,” she reproached. “You never drank underage at my bar.”

His eyes averted with a smile, in a way that told you Ellen was a damn liar. You bit your lip to try and hide your smile.

“Anyway, I’ll get your damn fries—”

“And a beer,” Dean interjected. She rolled her eyes.

“And a beer. Four?” she pointed at the rest of you, and you, Cas, and Meg nodded in agreement.

“All right, four beers. Anything else, darlin’?” She looked at you with a mother’s charm.

You looked up from the menu and unconsciously smiled.

“Um, sure. Can I get the chicken sandwich?”

She patted your shoulder. “You sure can.”

Ellen then took the rest of their orders without writing a thing down. You were impressed by her memory. At the end though, Dean didn’t let her go without a hand on her arm.

“Thanks, Ellen,” he said with a more sincere smile.

“A-huh,” she replied, with all due sarcasm. But there was a fondness in her eyes that was hard to miss when she playfully grabbed the back of his neck. “Knucklehead.”

A giggle escaped you, and Ellen tossed you a wink before she went to put in the orders and get the drinks.

Conversation flowed easier when the alcohol came. One beer became two, and even three (four, for Meg). By then, you were sure it was one beer too many for yourself, but you didn’t want to be the odd one out. You were mostly listening to the three of them bounce back and forth between reminiscing with old stories and roasting one another mercilessly.

It was hilarious and entertaining, but you were trying not to get caught in the crosshairs of the volleying. Inevitably though, Meg’s attention turned to you with a certain sly smile.

“You must be real special,” she remarked, gesturing at Dean. “He usually doesn’t bring his girls around here, where he actually likes to hang out. Guess that’d mean he’d have to see ‘em again with the lights on.”

You blinked in surprise.

“Meg,” Dean’s voice cut like a warning.

Your eyes widened as you took in the change, his deeper voice, his more serious gaze, versus Meg’s nonchalance. Even Cas gave her a chiding look.

“Not sure I want to know what that means,” you tried to joke.

But you could guess. It was fairly obvious.

You glanced over at Dean, whose lips pursed. Before either of you could say anything more, Meg chimed in.

“Oooh, is this gonna be your first fight?” she teased.

Dean’s brows furrowed with a glare. “That’s enough.”

“And that’s our cue,” Cas nodded. He’d already slipped out his wallet as soon as his girlfriend started talking. He left a generous few bills to cover their half of the night, plus tip, and got up out of his seat. He claimed his coat and then encouraged Meg off her chair.

“What? I’m not done with my beer,” she protested.

“I think you are,” Cas said.

Meg scoffed, but she allowed his manhandling as he wrapped a supportive arm around her waist.

“You’re not the boss of me, Clarence,” she snipped.

“Certainly not,” he agreed. “But you’re a lightweight. Time to go home, before you insult the entire bar.”

“You’re no fucking fair,” she groused, hitting his chest over his jacket. Cas leveled you and Dean with a long-suffering look of apology.

Dean waved him off with a “no sweat it” look and a shake of his head. Meg annoyed the shit out of him sometimes, especially when she was drunk. He turned to you with a sigh.

“Again, sorry about that. I didn’t think I’d have to apologize for my friends more than once tonight,” he said.

You shook your head. “It’s...okay. Overall, they were really fun.”

Dean scoffed. “I don’t think Cas has been called fun even once in his life.”

You smiled in amusement, but Meg’s words still swirled around in your head like heady wine.

“Dean,” you began, but your attempt to broach the issue was cut off by his cell phone ringing. He gave you an apologetic look and fished in his pocket for his phone. His brows rose when he saw the caller ID.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I gotta take this,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, okay—” You’d barely nodded when Dean was up and out of his chair, heading out of the bar. You could still see him through one of the faded glass doors as he held the phone up to his ear.

It was late, and quieter now. A blonde server came to take your plates, and you actually remembered her.

“Oh, hi! Jo, right?” you asked. She hesitated when you spoke, but she bobbed her head.

“That’s me,” she said. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks,” you said with a smile. “I met your mom. She’s really nice.”

Jo uttered a wry laugh as she stacked the plates and silverware. You helped her collect the silverware and empty beer bottles.

“Yeah, when you get her good side,” she replied.

You smirked at that, remembering how Ellen snapped back and forth with Dean. You had no doubt that woman could be a pistol if you pissed her off.

“Well, it's nice here,” you admitted, once again taking stock of the décor. The music, the warm lighting, the good food… “It’s cozy.”

Jo’s smile quirked to one side as she paused.

“Well, it’s been in my family for three generations of Harvelles,” she said. “This was my father’s favorite place in the world.”

You caught the note of melancholy in her words, in her eyes.

“Was?” you echoed. She met your gaze and nodded.

“He was a firefighter,” she said. “He died on the job.”

You dimmed considerably. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Jo only nodded.

“How did he…” Your curiosity got the best of you, but you soon shook your head and backtracked. “Never mind, you don’t have to explain.”

“It was a fire that wasn’t properly vented,” Jo answered your half-spoken question. Her blue eyes were heavier. “He got caught in an updraft…but he actually worked at Firehouse 25. He was their brother. That’s why this’ll always be their place.”

You processed that with a slow nod of wonder.

“It’s good that you and your mom will always have that support,” you said eventually. “Even though…it might be hard too, to always be reminded.”

Jo’s lips quirked again. “It’s more the first one, but…sometimes the second one. A lot of these guys have known me since I had braces. It’s hard to shake that perpetual little sister thing.”

You smiled at that. “Yeah, I’d imagine that gets old real quick. A bunch of over-protective older brothers.”

“Overbearing, more like,” she scoffed. You laughed.

Unconsciously, you glanced over to the front of the bar, where you saw Dean still on the phone. You remembered the second date you were meant to have, when he was late due to a five-car pileup his team responded to.

You remembered that night he called you for the first time, after a long day he didn’t want to tell you about. He’d let you distract him instead. All the while, it had you wondering what he’d seen. What he’d responded to that day.

Had it been another car accident? A fire? What made someone as upbeat and funny and smooth as Dean seem to lose all the life in his voice?

Though while you were lost in your thoughts, Jo was watching you.

Jealousy roiled inside her, unbidden. She didn’t want to hate you, because unlike the girls Dean usually messed around with, you had some self-respect. Jo heard Meg’s snide clips at you earlier, and no one could fake the surprise in your eyes. Unless you were just that good a damn actor…

But no, she didn’t get that vibe from you.

It didn’t mean she had to like you though.

“You’re right to think twice,” Jo said, earning your attention back with a swivel of your head. “What Meg said…she wasn’t wrong. Dean’s broken a few hearts, if you catch my drift.”

Just a few well-placed words, Jo thought. She realized then that she had the power to twist the wrench here, widening the gap between you and Dean. Feed your doubts.

She didn’t have to feel bad about it if it was the truth.

And yet…she saw the way your gaze fell. The disappointment setting in, the anxious clench of your hands on the table. You glanced over at Dean again out of the corner of your eye.

Jo realized then just what she was doing, not just to Dean, but to herself.

You’re not some petty bitch, she dully reminded herself.

“But,” she found herself adding. You raised your gaze back to her. Jo let out a subtle breath.

“It’s not always his fault,” she admitted. And maybe she was speaking a bit too much from experience. “The job demands a lot from him.”

Slowly, you nodded. You looked pensive, but not like you’d made up your mind.

Fine, Jo thought, as she collected the dishes and left your table.

She didn’t know if she wanted to sway you one way or the other on taking a chance on Dean Winchester.

While you were talking to Jo, Dean was taking his father’s unexpected call.

“Hey, Dad. What’s up?” he said.

“Hey, son. How are ya?” John’s voice was gruff and tired. Dean frowned to hear it.

“I’m good. I’m out right now, but did you need something?”

“Have you responded to any fires lately?”

“You mean like the Richardson fire?” Dean asked pointedly. “No, haven’t had one since. And no cattle prod brandings either.”

“All right, good. Just checking in.”

Good? Dean thought. John would be chomping at the bit for a new arson. If he was “just checking in,” then he was worried about something. Is he worried about me?

“What’s going on? Is there something I need to know?” Dean asked in suspicion. This was why he had taken the call. “Seriously, you can tell me. I’m not even gonna bitch at you like Sam does.”

John chuckled. But then he hesitated. Dean knew he’d hit on something.

“Dad?” he pressed.

John’s sigh was a heavy one. “Okay. What I’m about to tell you, you don’t fucking repeat. Not to anyone, you understand me? Not even your brother.”

Dean’s brows furrowed in trepidation. “Okay, fine. What the hell is it?”

“Richardson, the father of two?” John reminded. “He was a lawyer, linked to a money laundering scheme through a company called Stull Storage. It’s an old company, dates back to the seventies.”

“Okay…”

As John continued to explain, the more confused Dean became…

About 30 years ago, John Winchester had been a young, but promising officer in the Narcotics division. He’d married young, and by then was just barely clearing the five-year mark. Already he had the house he’d inherited from his wife’s parents, a four-year-old son, and a newborn.

Stull Storage’s units were used by a drug ring that John had been trying to infiltrate, undercover. Those units had stored cocaine, illegal weapons, and other flavors of contraband, mostly from South America (and back).

“We got close to breaking that case, once, but after the fire…I transferred out of Narcotics, as you know,” John said.

Dean knew the real story there. After his mom died, his father went into a spiral, trying to find whoever set that fire—even after the Fire Department found no evidence of arson. John had eventually been forced out of Narcotics. He requested Homicide.

As he’d told Dean once when he was extremely drunk: I seem to do better at my job when the bodies are already dead.

“Now I know that I was right about your mother’s death,” John said.

Dean released a shaky sigh. “Aw, man. Not this again, Dad. For Christ’s sake.”

“There was something wrong about that fire, Dean,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over Dean’s objections. “I just didn’t find the connection…until now.”

Dean muttered a curse under his breath. His gaze fell to the ground. Sam was usually the one who drew a hard line at hearing any more about their mom’s supposed murder, but now Dean had reached the end of his tether. It was too much.

He glanced back through the glass doors to make sure you were okay. He saw you talking to Jo, and he frowned at himself.

Here you were, waiting on him back in the bar, and his dad was calling him in the middle of the night, chasing ghosts again.

“Look…it’s been my whole damn life with this.” Dean held the phone to his ear with one hand, and rubbed at his forehead with the other. “I just can’t do this with you anymore.”

“Dean, listen,” John urged. “You wanna know what I’m digging into, this is it. I got Mary’s file unsealed.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “What? Thought you couldn’t do that without new evidence and a court order.”

“Well, I’ve got the evidence…maybe I was a bit impatient with the court order.”

Dean rolled his eyes. His father liked to play a little fast and loose with the rules.

“At the time, the medical examiner dismissed it. She’d been burned…” John paused on a deeper breath. “But I saw it. Mary had a burn on her wrist. It was the same brand found on Richardson. On Jerry Stillwell, CPA. Amanda Waller, journalist. It’s all connected, Dean. How they’re connected to one another, I’m not sure yet. We’re still digging…but I do know this. Richardson was a message.”

Dean’s back hit the wall of the Roadhouse. His brows furrowed as he struggled to digest everything John was saying.

“A message?” he asked. “To who?”

“To me, I think. Those kids, and their mother…you got ‘em out alive, but they weren’t meant to,” John said, his voice sounding heavy. "The wife told me her husband was erratic when he got home, holding his wrist. He'd been burned before the fire. He wouldn't say what happened...then they smelled the goddamn smoke."

"Shit," Dean replied. He leaned heavily against the wall, pressing a hand to his forehead. There was an ache starting between his eyes.

“Yeah," John agreed. "The drug ring I was investigating, when I was in Narcotics. I was getting close. And I mean close. I was about to get the Big Kahuna. The kingpin of the whole operation…and then the house fire.”

Fuck. Dean wiped at his mouth anxiously as he realized what John was saying. Fuck.

“He burned me, Dean. He must have,” John said. Meaning, the drug lord he was trying to pin down somehow discovered his identity. “Your mom paid the price of that.”

“Who is this guy?” Dean asked. His hand holding the phone was starting to tremble.

“I still don’t know his real name. Workin’ on that one too,” John said. “But they called him Azazel.”

When Dean eventually hung up with his father and returned to you at the bar, he saw you brighten. But you soon dimmed with a tinge of worry. Something of his thoughts must’ve shown on his face.

Shit. He tried his best to school his features.

“Hey, sorry about that,” he said, grasping your shoulder. “I’ll take you home.”

“I met you here, remember?” you asked.

Dean paused, then shook his head. Get it together, asshole.

“Right," he said. "Well, I’ll walk you to your car. Let me just pay real quick.”

After he sorted out the bill (he didn’t know that you’d slipped in an extra $30 in Cas’s stack for your part), he led you out, saying goodbye to Ellen and Jo while you went.

You hesitated when the two of you got to the car. Something wasn’t right with him. And both Jo and Meg’s words still rolled back and forth through your head.

“Dean, are you okay? Who was it on the phone?” you asked.

“I’m fine. It was just my dad, called to have me take a look at his car. We were just arguing about our schedules…I’m sure you can relate,” he replied, trying at a smile.

You weren’t sure if you believed him. Though he was nearly convincing, he was also shifting on his feet, hands in his pockets. His gaze roamed away from yours, above your head and over your shoulder.

“Um, I might’ve had a beer too many,” you said with a half-chuckle. “Could you walk with me for a bit? Just until my head clears enough to drive.”

“I could take you home,” Dean offered.

“And leave my car here?” you asked. In a public parking lot behind a bar?

You shook your head and pointed down the road.

“Just there and back…but if you need to go, I guess I could just sit in my car for a while.”

Dean shook his head with a frown. He couldn’t tell you that a damn serial killer was on the loose.

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “It’s a relatively safe neighborhood, but not so much at night. Not by yourself.”

He laid a hand on your back to start walking with you, but his hand soon fell back to his side. You glanced at him, but he looked straight ahead, unusually quiet and reserved.

It felt like he was checking out of this night with you. Like he just wanted to usher you into the car and leave. Did he just not want to deal with what Meg said?

Letting out a breath, you tried to see if you could broach the subject.

“It was nice to meet some more of your friends,” you said, and with a nervous laugh, “even if it did get awkward there at the end.”

Dean finally looked over at you.

“We never exactly talked about what each of us was looking for,” you said. “What we were really doing here.”

You stood your ground, but you tried not to look censuring. Just open to whatever he might have to say. Even so, unease churned inside you.

Dean sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Look, she wasn’t exactly wrong about me.”

You considered that with a nod, biting the inside of your lip.

“When was the last time you were in a relationship?” you asked. Dean gave a humorless huff of a laugh. This really was the last thing he wanted to get into tonight, but he had a feeling he had no choice.

“A few months ago, for about a minute,” he said. “But uh, before then…never.”

Together, you began to cross the street while the cars on either side waited at the red light. Pedestrians had the right of way for the next 30 seconds. You looked over at him and steeled yourself.

“Dean, is this is something casual for you?”

“Define casual,” he attempted to joke (or to deflect). Though the bravado fell the moment he saw that look on your face: tight and disappointed…and hurt.

He reached for your hand, but you weren’t having it. You slipped away from him and continued walking at a more brusque clip, even in those platform heels.

“Okay, hold on.” He quickly followed after you and tugged you back by the hand. It had you both stopping in the middle of the crosswalk.

Dean squeezed your hand and peered into your eyes.

“Look, I’m sorry. Don’t close up on me,” he implored. “…Please.”

Despite your better judgment, and your pursed lips, you waited. Something told you this man didn’t often say please.

“The truth is, I’m trying to do something different here with you. I don’t think we would’ve made it to date #4 if we were just casual,” he said. “I’m not playing games either.”

You wanted to trust that he was serious. Once again, your mind and your heart were at odds; the former told you to be wary, while the latter told you to trust the earnestness in his eyes.

Your heart won. “Okay, Dean.”

“Yeah?” he asked, with hopeful brows raised.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

You finally smiled. And you leaned up, resting a hand against his chest, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His stubble was coarse, but familiar against your lips.

Dean turned his head and leaned in for a proper kiss. His hands found the curve of your waist and brought you closer against his chest. You both sunk deeper into it, your lips gliding as your head tilted into the kiss…

Until a horn honked loudly, making you both jolt at the sound.

The streetlight was green, and several cars were waiting for you to cross. You snorted in amusement, leading Dean to grin down at you. He tugged you back into step with him across the street.

Again, you hesitated at your car. Dean was more himself as he’d held your hand all the way back.

He now held your car door open while you threw in your purse. But when you turned back to him, you still saw something brooding behind his eyes.

You drew near and grasped the open edges of his shirt. This man wore a lot of plaid when he was out of uniform, always with an undershirt. Tonight it was green plaid on gray, complete with some faded jeans and a pair of boots. This was the only “casual” way in which you wanted Dean.

“Hey,” you started.

“Hmm?” he replied, holding you by your arms.

“I get that we haven’t known each other all that long. So you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” you said. “But did something happen when you stepped out? When you talked to your dad?”

Dean paused. His eyes, a pale green under the streetlamp, flicked to yours.

“I just want to know that you’re okay,” you said. “And if you’re not, that’s okay too.”

After a moment to blink in surprise, your earnestness got to him. His grip moved down your arms, and he took one of your hands. His dad’s warning echoed through his mind.

What I’m about to tell you, you don’t fucking repeat. Not to anyone, you understand me? Not even your brother.

Dean knew his dad didn’t make demands without a reason, even if he wasn’t typically so forthcoming with them. But Dean drew enough courage to be as honest as he could be. You deserved that much, after everything you'd put up with tonight.

“My mom died...when I was about four,” he said. “It was a house fire.”

Your eyes widened. All this time, you’d assumed his mother had passed away. You hadn’t expected that, though. You squeezed his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, and you meant it. Dean just shook his head.

“It was ruled an accident. Really they just didn’t have much evidence either way,” he continued. “But uh, my dad’s been obsessed with the idea that it wasn’t. That someone started the fire on purpose… Well, today, he might’ve found his proof.”

He held your gaze for as long as he could, but in the end, he just couldn’t. His chest was tight. Saying those words out loud made them real, and he wasn’t sure of how to handle it.

“Oh, Dean,” you said, starting and stopping, as you struggled to formulate a response that wasn’t just “I’m sorry,” or “Are you okay?”

He clearly wasn’t. You also didn’t want to give him platitudes like, “That’s crazy,” or the ever-inspired: “Wow.”

Or some other variation of what you’re supposed to say. You wanted to give him something honest. Something real.

So you curled your hands around his arms, earning his gaze.

“You must be reeling right now,” you said. “Do you think he’s onto something this time?”

“I don’t know what to think,” said Dean. “I’ve been pressing him for answers, but…honestly? I wish he hadn’t told me a damn thing.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You were surprised that he actually confided in you with this. But the only thing you could think to do was lean up on your toes and slip your arms around his neck. You hugged him, warm and tight.

You couldn’t even imagine what he was feeling, but you just wanted him to know that someone was there for him. You were there for him.

Dean eventually hugged you back. He held you, reassuring you as well as himself. He blew out a cathartic breath, and his hand came up to cup the back of your head. His lips tugged upwards.

“You’re a sweetheart, you know that?” he said.

A smile spread across your face. Your fingers soothed through his hair gently. You pressed your lips into his neck.

“I aim to please,” you said against his skin.

Dean smiled more fully at that. The new warmth in his chest warred against the roiling in his stomach. Despite his best efforts, his smile faded.

His mom’s killer was still out there.

The thought was haunting his mind, and he knew it probably would for many nights to come.

So for now, he’d just hold you a bit tighter.

AN: 🥲 I honestly didn't mean it to end so angsty, but Dean finally got some much-needed hurt/comfort there! What did you think of how Jo handled her jealous side? And Gordon "shooting his shot" lol.

Coming soon in Part 7, we finally get to a huge milestone between these two lovebirds, with a side helping of baking shenanigans. 😏��️‍🔥

Next Time:

“Ey, ey!” he raised a warning finger with his free hand. “You’re about to take this to a new level.”

You met his gaze through your lashes with a playful smile. “So?”

Dean raised a brow at you. He could admit, you had audacity. All he could do was call your bluff.

He took one of your battered fingers into his mouth. Your eyes widened at the feel of his soft tongue swirling around your finger, sucking it clean. All the while, his eyes never broke from yours.

Lord have mercy, you thought. Really, it was the only coherent one in your head.

Keep Reading: PART 7

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#Just Casual #Smoke Eater #Part 6 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #zepskies writes

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kisses4reid · 6 months ago

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warnings: mentions of blood, dead bodies, guns, being kidnapped, murder, injuries

you had your back turned to the gory scene, chest pressed against a family photo of people you didn’t know.

there were no thoughts, no movements, no sounds, no breeze through an open window. your eyes were squeezed shut and you convinced yourself to breath through your nose, hold it until you couldn’t anymore, and release a shuttering breath through your mouth.

your folded legs had cramped, your head was pounding against the wall. the metallic smell of blood was all you could focus on, as fat tears travelled down your red cheeks and sobs croaked from your sore throat.

squelches of air pockets hidden in organs had subsided after who knows how long, and replacing it was the sound of tires skidding to a halt and sirens approaching. only then do you crack your eyes open, sore and swollen from punches and cries.

all your met with in a wall with a family photo, faces unrecognisable under the running blood, so close the blood could touch your nose - not that it would look out of place, and two red hand prints, that drag down to the base of the wall. you had been so delirious after killing those men, you though a family photo was a door.

unable to move, you sat expectantly. for a blow? for a punch? for a kick? for something you had become so familiar with, a sting that felt like a kiss?

spencer lowered his gun as soon as he saw the suspects dead on the carpet. there set of hand prints opposite him that splattered and dragged slowly, as if someone tried to hold themselves up but ultimately failed. he followed the trail with his eyes, and found you.

spencer had noticed your quivering body first of course, looking so small and frail, he doubted you had eaten in days, had a sip of water, a second of sunlight.

in your trance, you were greeted with a door being kicked down, shouts of unheard commands, and a pair of hands on your shoulders.

you screamed and pushed the hands off of you, kicking out beneath you with your eyes clenched in fear. you had killed them, why weren’t they gone? it scared spencer, you yell was hearty and wet, your eyes bruised as well as most of your observable skin, you almost looked like a different girl.

“y/n? hey, hey, y/n. can you hear me?” he held his hands up, eyes wide, gulping in disbelief - though he should’ve expected it.

you opened one eye, rapid heart faulting at the voice.

“y/n, hey.” the wrinkles between spencer’s eyebrows paused when he let a smile slip, an exhale moving from him to you.

and you wished you could hug him, to embrace him, to feel someone that wasn’t trying to hurt you, someone who was warm. but all you could see was the dull faces and blood pooling beneath locks of hair, limp limbs and holes where your brain should be.

“oh my god…” you whispered coarsely, holding a quivering hand over your busted lips, your eyes darting between the bodies and spencer’s brown eyes.

he leaned forward slowly, reaching out his hands to try for your shoulders again, wanting badly to take you away from the awful scene and gross smell, from the place you had been captive in for the past four days. his own tears trapped themselves in his lashes, yours free to huddle on your jawline and chin.

you screamed a sob into spencer’s chest, throwing your hands on your face and burrowing your head into his FBI vest. your chest heaved, your shoulders being lifted to stand on wobbly knees.

you weren’t sure when you had left the innocent appearing family home - how neighbours hadn’t heard your crying nobody knew - or when you had been put into an ambulance, but you knew spencer was the one to drag you through the disaster.

there was a slight ringing in your ears, it had been present your second night in that house, you had a broken rib and fractured wrists, torn muscles and sore lungs, all things the paramedics told spencer as he sat beside you. they had told him they were surprised you were awake, alive.

their words were a blur to you though, as well as anything further than spencer’s face. he looked 10 years older, his hair messier, his face greyer. you wanted to ask him what was wrong, but no air in your lungs could push out any words. your fingers twitched, reaching for something.

spencer looked down for a split second after the nurse had finished talking to him, tears finally dropping onto his cheeks. he carefully took your hands and bit his bottom lip. he whispered, “you’ll be okay, we’ll be okay”.

and for a second you believed him.

taglist (open): @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es

#criminal minds #spencer reid #cm #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x yn

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env0 · 2 months ago

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Shadow and Light

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misscinnamonroll16 · 8 months ago

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Brozone headcanons

Clay and Floyd are the stunt men now that they're adults. Clay's always been a little bit of a daredevil, Floyd already died once, why not live a little.

Clay is nocturnal, like the rest of the Putt-putt trolls. His bros throw his sleep schedule off so when they're hanging out, it's not unusual for Clay to just be passed out somewhere or on someone. If they can, they get Clay to bed so he can properly sleep. If not, everyone's volume goes low.

Both Floyd and John Dory took bartending classes. And by took I mean, Floyd just so happened to be sleeping with a bartender who taught him some things. When making drinks, John's proper about it, Floyd is kind of messy. Floyd's over pouring and spilling.

Clay's handwriting is like a nice print. It's easy to read and looks good on paper.

John Dory is good at photography. He mostly uses this skill for taking nature shots but he's gotten good at candid shots of his brothers. He doesn't let them know about these pics bc they don't look the most photogenic but they look like themselves and that's what John loves to see.

JD has dimples

John Dory almost always has at least one weapon on him.

The brothers think JD has a death wish bc he's constantly going after animals that could literally kill him. "John! Don't touch that, it'll tear you to pieces!" "Psh, whatever. If we weren't supposed to pet it then why does look so fluffy?"

Floyd doesn't go into detail about his past. He'll tell snippets here and there but avoid questions. For one, because he's a bit embarrassed about it. He did a lot of things he isn't proud of, drugs, sleeping around, and drinking. For two, he knows that his older brothers still see him WAY younger than he actually is (like how they still see Branch as a baby) and it would just shatter that mentality. And he doesn't want to do that. For three, it's WAY more fun for him if they don't know and have to keep guessing. Floyd has heard them trying to figure out what he spent the last twenty years doing and starts fucking with them.

John Dory definitely has pictures from even when he was a baby and such. Even ones with their parents but he tries to keep those ones tucked away. Branch is going through them when he finds a picture that has been folded in one of the sleeves of the photo album. It's a picture of John and Bruce and their parents. JD quickly snatches the photo and shoves it his vest. Those people looked like strangers to Branch, that picture probably being the first time he's seen them

The brothers know they didn't have a good childhood but John did his best, despite being pretty much a child himself.

John Dory man spreads no matter who he is sitting next or if he's just sitting in a chair.

John Dory wears the one glove to hide an incredibly deep scar. He got into some trouble with some bounty hunters and needless to say, they drove a knife through his hand. He doesn't want his lil bros to know or worry about it so he hides it.

All the boys (like most trolls) are fuzzy. JD and Bruce have the most prominent facial hair and chest hair. They all have leg hair, arm hair, under arm hair, and a happy trail.

Clay and John have the Blond™️ gene (that's how I'm referring to it) where their hair goes through changes. That's why their hair is so much different from when they were kids. In the summer while spending a bunch of time outside, JD and Clay's hair gets lighter, Clay being a light yellow and John being a soft teal. The others convinced them to do one of those 'take a picture every day for a year' things and make it into a flip book to show how their hair changes color.

The boys really wanted a sister. John jokes that they kind of got one with Floyd

Floyd and John Dory are good gardeners. JD briefly grew his own food and Floyd just has a natural green thumb (not that John doesn't)

Floyd gets random nosebleeds

#trolls #brozone #trolls john dory #trolls floyd #trolls clay #trolls bruce #branch trolls #trolls headcanon #trolls headcanons #brozone headcanons #brozone hcs

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emjayewrites · 1 month ago

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fouled by fate • aurelien tchouameni (6/10)

SYNOPSIS: Aurélien Tchouaméni, one of football’s rising stars, is used to navigating the pressures of the pitch—but nothing could prepare him for an arranged marriage. With his family’s legacy and cultural traditions at stake, Aurélien reluctantly agrees to marry a woman he barely knows. But as they’re thrust into the public eye, sparks fly in unexpected ways. The two must navigate the complexities of love, duty, and fame, all while figuring out if they’re playing on the same team—or if their hearts are destined for different paths.

PAIRINGS: Aurélien Tchouaméni x Zuri Awanto Nchang (faceclaim Samira Ahmed @/iamsamiira)

WARNINGS: cursing, football b.s., dry humor/wit, slight arguing, friends to lovers, instant attraction, angst, eventual smut (18+/minors dni)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @2serenity0 @saturnville @planetmimi @muglermami @shepgurl @sucredreamer @julescpu @tchouathon @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @lottins-only

A/N: Please let me know if you want to be removed from the tag list Thank you again for your love and appreciation!

Thursday arrived with a palpable sense of anticipation. Aurélien stood in his bedroom, adjusting his crisp white shirt and traditional Bamileke-patterned vest. The house was about to be filled with both his and Zuri's families, a thought that brought both excitement and a touch of anxiety.

He glanced at the newly arranged sleeping arrangements. Their parents and siblings would be taking over the pool house and extra rooms, while Zuri would be moving into his bedroom loft. The idea of sharing such an intimate space with her sent a thrill through him, memories of those vivid dreams flooding back. Aurélien took a deep breath, reminding himself to keep things in check. Having Zuri so close would make things harder - both literally and figuratively - but he was determined to behave himself with their families under the same roof.

"Get it together, man," he muttered to himself, sucking his teeth, willing his body to cooperate with his mind's decision. But, as usual, when it came to Zuri, his dick responded, swelling at the thought.

Merde.

Exhaling a vexed breath, he adjusted his crotch, forcing himself to think of the most disgusting things to quell his arousal. Eventually, he made his way downstairs, and Zuri was a vision in a matching Bamileke print dress, her hair styled in an elegant braided updo adorned with traditional beads. As their eyes met, Aurélien felt his breath catch. She looked stunning.

"You ready for this?" he asked, joining her by the front door.

Zuri nodded, a mix of nervousness and excitement in her eyes. "As I'll ever be."

From his dog bed in the corner, Zeus watched curiously, although he was more interested in the bone Aurélien had given him than the impending ceremony.

The sound of cars pulling up outside signaled the arrival of their families, and they straightened their posture, standing side-by-side on the path. The first to arrive were Aurélien's parents, Fernand and Josette, dressed in elaborate traditional attire. They were followed by a small procession of his family members, including his siblings, each carrying beautifully wrapped gifts and baskets filled with symbolic items. Then, it was Zuri's family - her father, Ernest, a woman he assumed was her mother, and another man, perhaps her brother.

To Aurélien's surprise, he spotted two elderly men among the group, their presence commanding respect. He leaned in close to Zuri, whispering, "Aren't those the elders from Cameroon?"

Zuri's eyes widened in recognition. "Yeah, Elder Nkeng and Elder Fotsing. I can't believe they made the trip."

Fuck, as if things couldn't get more complicated.

As the group assembled on the front lawn, the sound of traditional Bamileke music filled the air, drums and flutes creating a festive atmosphere. Aurélien's father, Fernand, stepped forward, holding a ceremonial staff.

He knocked on the door three times, his voice strong and clear as he called out, "We are the Tchouaméni family, come to seek the hand of your daughter for our son, Aurélien."

Zuri's father, Ernest, walked up behind Fernand, standing next to Aurélien and Zuri before responding, "And who is this son you speak of? What qualities does he possess that make him worthy of our daughter?"

Aurélien felt his cheeks warm as his father began to list his accomplishments and qualities. Zuri squeezed his hand, a small smile playing on her lips.

The back-and-forth continued, a dance of words steeped in tradition. Gifts were presented, their symbolic meanings explained. A bottle of palm wine, representing unity. Kola nuts, symbolizing respect and acceptance.

As the ceremony progressed, Aurélien found himself drawn into the beauty of it all. He glanced at Zuri, seeing the emotion in her eyes as their families came together in this ancient ritual.

"You okay?" he murmured, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand.

Zuri nodded, her voice soft. "Yeah, it's just… more overwhelming than I expected."

Elder Nkeng stepped forward, his weathered hands raised in blessing. "May these two families be joined in love and prosperity," he intoned in Bamum, his words translated by Aurélien to Zuri.

As the Nkap Nkong ceremony drew to a close, with handshakes and hugs exchanged, Aurélien felt a sense of peace settle over him. This was just the beginning of their journey together, but somehow, it felt right.

Until it didn't.

Inside, the house was transformed. Traditional Bamileke fabrics adorned the walls, their vibrant patterns bringing warmth to the space. The air was filled with the scent of African spices and flowers, creating an atmosphere both festive and intimate. The living room buzzed with activity, family members from both sides mingling, their voices creating a cheerful cacophony.

Zuri gave her parents, Amina and Ernest, and her brother, Malik, a quick tour of the house. Meanwhile, Aurélien found himself cornered by his own family.

"So, big brother," Yannis, Aurélien's younger sibling, teased, "how's married life treating you?"

Aurélien rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "We're not married yet, Yannis."

"But you will be soon enough," Yannis quipped with a grin.

Anne-Maïsha leaned in conspiratorially. "But seriously, how much do you like her? Is it just like or like-like?"

A smirk played on Aurélien's lips. "Like," he said simply.

Anne-Maïsha's eyes sparkled. "So, like-like. Understood."

As Zuri and her family returned to the living room, caterers bustled around offering refreshments. The elders cleared their throats, signaling the start of the La Dot ceremony - the negotiation and completion of the bride price.

Ernest stepped forward, his expression stern. "Now, about compensation for raising such a fine daughter..."

Aurélien felt his jaw clench as Ernest launched into a tirade about wanting a new car. It took all of his self-control not to cuss the man out right there. Zuri squeezed his hand, their eyes meeting in a look that spoke volumes. Taking a deep breath, Aurélien settled for rolling his eyes.

"With all due respect," Aurélien interrupted, his voice tight, "a new car isn't happening. However, I understand Zuri's mother has been wanting to remodel the kitchen. I'd be happy to cover those costs. Or perhaps we could put money towards student loan debt?"

Ernest sucked his teeth, clearly displeased. "I raised her and her brother well, spent money on them. I need to be compensated to some degree."

Murmurs of disapproval rippled through Aurélien's family members.

Zuri's grandmother, Mamie Adzoa, spoke up. "Perhaps we could do something extra special for Zuri instead? What would you like, ma chérie?"

All eyes turned to Zuri. Aurélien smirked, already loving her grandmother.

"Uh... I'm really grateful for everything already," Zuri said, looking a bit overwhelmed.

"Oh! So humble," noted one of Aurélien's cousins, making Zuri smile.

"Maybe we could donate to something or someone? Pay it forward," Zuri suggested.

Aurélien nodded approvingly. "What a giving fiancée I have," he joked, earning chuckles even from the elders. "So that's settled then, yeah?" Aurélien said, his tone making it clear it wasn't really a question. He fixed Ernest with a firm look.

The giving of the bride price commenced. Aurélien presented plans for Zuri's grandmother's new house, drawn up by his architect. He handed over the official notice for the cattle to her uncle. Then, with a nod to his mother, Josette brought forward several beautifully wrapped boxes. Zuri opened them to reveal an array of stunning jewelry - Van Cleef & Arpels pieces, including a bracelet matching Aurélien's own, Cartier items, and a pair of diamond studs.

Zuri's eyes widened in amazement. She threw her arms around Aurélien, hugging him tightly. "Thank you," she whispered.

"You're welcome, ma belle," Aurélien responded, planting a kiss on her head.

"Oh, they're in love already," Mamie Adzoa stated, causing Aurélien to chuckle.

As Zuri turned to show her grandmother and mother the beautiful pieces, Aurélien's gaze fell on Malik, Zuri's brother. A scowl marred Malik's features as he shook his head slightly. Aurélien made a mental note to talk to him later, sensing the need to clear the air.

Despite the underlying tension, as Aurélien watched Zuri's excitement, he felt a warmth spread through his chest. This moment - seeing Zuri happy - made all the complications worth it.

__________________________________________________________

As the evening progressed, the families gathered for a simple dinner. During dessert, some of the men stepped outside, and Aurélien saw his chance to talk with Malik.

"Hey," Aurélien said, approaching Zuri's brother. "Got a minute? I wanted to talk about Zuri."

Malik nodded, his expression guarded. They moved to a quieter spot in the garden.

Aurélien began, "I know this situation isn't ideal, but I want you to know that I have Zuri's best interests at heart."

"Look," Malik replied, "I'm worried about Zuri. She's sensitive, a people pleaser. Especially with our father. She bends over backwards for people, and I don't want to see her get used."

Aurélien nodded, understanding. "I get it. But I want you to know, I won't do that to her. I truly appreciate Zuri for who she is."

Malik laughed, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "Maybe Mamie was right. You are in love."

Aurélien shook his head. "We're trying to see the silver lining in this situation. Making an effort to date each other. We've even talked about pushing the wedding date back a bit."

Malik's eyes widened at this, and he kissed his teeth. "You're something else, Aurélien, but I don't mind you."

Aurélien extended his hand, which Malik shook before pulling him into a bro hug. Leaning close, Malik whispered, "If you hurt my sister, I'll kill you. Understand?"

"Understood," Aurélien replied, nodding. He respected Malik's protectiveness, knowing he'd do the same if it were Anne-Maïsha in this situation.

"Aurélien!" Fernand called them over, handing Aurélien a cigar. "Nous célébrons tes fiançailles, fils," (We're celebrating your engagement, son) he said.

"Papa, anglais s'il te plaît," (Dad, English please) Aurélien responded, nodding towards Malik.

To his surprise, Malik responded in French, his accent not nearly as bad as Zuri's, "Ne t'inquiète pas, je comprends." (Don't worry, I understand.)

Confused, Aurélien blurted in English, "Wait, you speak French? Why doesn't Zuri?"

Ernest, joining them, provided the explanation. "Elle est pourrie gâtée," (She's spoiled rotten) he said, lighting his cigar. "We never pushed her to learn."

The glow from the cigar illuminated Ernest's still scowling face, and Aurélien felt his own expression sour. He recalled Zuri's stories about her father's behavior, the pressure she felt. His first instinct was to be polite – this was his fiancée's father, after all – but he knew that after this weekend, he'd need to be on high alert to protect Zuri from any potential bullshit.

As the men talked and smoked, Ernest continued to make snide comments. "She always took the easy way out," he muttered. "No discipline, that one."

Aurélien bit his tongue, reminding himself that this was temporary.

Suddenly, one of Zuri's cousins – Aurélien wasn't sure if her name was Adzoa or Akua – called out, "Venez danser!" (Come dance!)

Malik sucked his teeth. "Ah non, pas la danse," (Oh no, not dancing) he groaned.

As they headed back inside, Aurélien saw Zuri standing awkwardly in a circle, her female cousins dancing around her, performing traditional Cameroonian moves, however, she looked so lost.

Turning to Malik, Aurélien asked, "She doesn't know how to do this?"

Malik shook his head almost sadly.

What the fuck? Aurélien wondered why her parents had taught her brother about their customs but not her. Well, he was here to teach her now. He danced into the circle, taking Zuri's hand and spinning her around. Her giggles filled the air, and Aurélien found himself grinning, enjoying the sound of her laughter.

As the music pulsed through the room, Aurélien pulled Zuri closer, his hand resting lightly on her waist. "Follow my lead," he murmured, guiding her through the steps of a traditional Bamileke dance.

At first, Zuri was hesitant, her movements unsure. But as Aurélien continued to lead, she began to relax, her body swaying more naturally to the rhythm. He spun her out, then back into his arms, delighting in the way her eyes lit up with excitement.

"You're a natural," he said, loud enough for only her to hear.

As they moved together, the energy in the room seemed to shift. Family members began to gather around, clapping and cheering. Suddenly, one of Aurélien's uncles let out a loud, trilling yodel - a traditional Bamileke cry of celebration. The sound reverberated through the room, and soon others joined in, their voices rising and falling in a joyous cacophony.

Zuri looked startled for a moment, then broke into a wide grin. "What is that?" she asked, breathless from dancing.

"It's called 'nkuh'," Aurélien explained. "It's how we show approval and joy."

As if on cue, another round of nkuh filled the air, this time led by Zuri's grandmother. Aurélien saw tears glistening in the old woman's eyes as she watched her granddaughter embrace her heritage.

Feeling emboldened, Aurélien dipped Zuri low, earning another round of cheers and nkuh from the crowd. As he pulled her back up, their faces were close, breaths mingling.

"Thank you," Zuri whispered, her eyes locked on his.

"Anytime, ZuZu."

_____________________________________________________________

Zuri rolled her eyes as her father's grumbling about the car situation continued.

Seriously, Dad? Let it go already.

His pettiness was threatening to turn her engagement weekend into an episode of "Real Housewives of Cameroon." She made a mental note to give him the cold shoulder if he kept this up. This was supposed to be her time to shine, dammit, not a showcase for her father's world-class sulking skills.

After what felt like a million goodbyes (how many cousins did she have, anyway?), Zuri and Aurélien finally escaped the family circus. As they bid goodnight to their parents and siblings, Zuri couldn't help but think, Freedom at last.

Alone in the bathroom, Zuri began her nighttime routine. She carefully removed her makeup, cleaned her face, unbraided her hair, and wrapped it in her bonnet. After a quick shower and changing into her new pajamas (because God forbid she wears her ratty old t-shirt to bed with Mr. Soccer Superstar), a wave of nervousness hit her.

Sharing a bed with Aurélien. No big deal. Totally chill.

Taking a deep breath that did absolutely nothing to calm her nerves, Zuri flicked off the bathroom light and padded into the bedroom. And there he was, sitting up in bed, his phone casting a soft glow on his features. The t-shirt he'd worn earlier was discarded, leaving his broad, muscled chest on proud display. Zuri felt her mouth go dry at the sight.

Zeus, sprawled next to Aurélien like he owned the place, but Aurélien, ever the gentleman, shooed the dog to his bed. Zeus huffed dramatically as he complied, giving Zuri a stink eye that rivaled her father's.

"Hey," Aurélien said softly, his voice doing things to Zuri's insides. "You okay?"

Am I okay? I'm about to share a bed with a Greek god, but sure, I'm totally fine. "Yeah," Zuri managed, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Just... been a long day."

As she approached the bed, Zuri's mind raced. What now? Do I jump in? Slide in gracefully? Is there a protocol for getting into bed with your arranged fiancé?

But as Aurélien smiled at her, warm and reassuring, some of her nervousness melted away. His eyes followed her intently, his gaze trailing over her silk pajamas. Zuri felt a flutter in her stomach. Sure, they'd shared kisses and some pretty heated makeout sessions, but sleeping together? That was a whole new ballgame.

As she slid under the covers, she couldn't help but admire Aurélien's muscled chest, his dark chocolate skin practically glowing in the dim light.

Focus, Zuri. Don't be a creep.

"You look pretty," Aurélien murmured, his hand reaching out to lightly touch the hem of her pajama top. Zuri's breath caught in her throat.

Trying to settle in, Zuri cleared her throat. "So, what's next on this whirlwind engagement tour?"

They chatted about the upcoming lunch with their families, more blessings from the elders, and Saturday's official engagement ceremony that Josette had planned.

"I'm a little nervous about how it'll turn out," Zuri admitted. "But your mom seems to have good taste. I like your family."

Aurélien nodded. "My family likes you too. I also like your family," he said, then added with a smirk, "Well, except for your dad. Still want to punch him in the mouth."

Zuri couldn't help but laugh. "I can't believe he and your dad were schoolmates. They seem so different."

"Yeah, my old man pushes me, but at least he respects my choices," Aurélien mused.

Zuri sighed. "My father never has. This arranged marriage might be the last thing he controls in my life."

As they decided to call it a night, Zuri turned onto her side, her back to Aurélien. Suddenly, she felt the bed shift and a strong arm wrapped securely around her waist, Aurélien's body pressing against her back.

"Aurél?" she whispered, her heart racing.

"Hmm?"

"What-what are you doing?"

"Cuddling with my fiancée," he replied nonchalantly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Zuri, meanwhile, was on the verge of a panic attack from the sheer closeness. Willing her horniness to take a backseat, she gulped and turned to face him. His face, visible even in the darkness, held a smug smirk.

"I can't cuddle with you now?" he asked innocently.

"No, no, it's not that… uh… we're alone," she stammered.

"I know. What's wrong, ZuZu?"

"Aurélien, you're literally pressed up against me. How am I supposed to sleep?"

"By closing your eyes, ma chérie," he responded, his snark game strong as ever.

"Ugh, goodnight," she grumbled, turning back around, only to feel Aurélien cuddle closer, tightening his arms around her waist.

I fucking hate him, she thought. Oh, be so for real, you like him too much to hate him, her traitorous mind replied.

And she did. Too bad she liked him too much to fall asleep easily, especially with him wrapped around her like a muscular, irresistible blanket.

The blaring alarm jolted Zuri awake, her body stiff and her mind foggy. Aurélien, meanwhile, was dead to the world, snoring softly beside her.

She hadn't slept well, not with Aurélien pressed up against her all night. And now? Well, let's just say she could feel every inch of his morning… enthusiasm.

Jesus, Mary, and Beyoncé, give me strength, she thought, desperately wishing for an ice-cold shower.

Stumbling to the bathroom, Zuri attempted to wrangle her hair into something resembling togetherness. Her bonnet had staged a revolt overnight, leaving her looking like she'd been electrocuted.

Heading downstairs, she was surprised to find Josette already up and dressed, chatting with a stylish woman in the living room.

"Ah, Zuri!" Josette called out. "Come meet Maria, your wedding planner."

Wedding planner? When did that happen? Zuri thought as she plastered on a smile and shook Maria's hand. The backyard was already a hive of activity, with Maria directing the setup for the Nhon Nkou - the family union lunch.

"Oh, before I forget," Josette said, pressing a small, elegantly wrapped package into Zuri's hands. "A little something for you, dear."

"Thank you," Zuri managed, touched by the gesture. Is this what having a normal mother-in-law feels like?

"Zuri!" Her father's voice cut through the moment like a knife. And we're back to reality.

Ernest strode into the kitchen, nodding curtly at Josette before pulling Zuri aside. "We need to talk about that car," he hissed.

Oh for fuck's sake, Zuri thought, resisting the urge to bang her head against the nearest wall.

"Listen," Ernest began, his voice low and insistent, "you need to convince Aurélien about the car. It's the least he can do, considering he's getting you. Tell him it's important to me, that it would mean a lot to your father."

Zuri fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Papa, I really don't think—"

"Just do it, Zuri," he cut her off. "Use that charm of yours. You've always been good at getting what you want."

As her father continued his spiel, Zuri felt her anger rising. This was beyond selfishness, bordering on narcissism. Here they were, in the middle of engagement ceremonies, her entire life uprooted, and he was fixated on a fucking car?

"Enough," Zuri snapped, her patience finally breaking. "This is crazy, Papa. I'm not asking Aurélien for a car."

Ernest's face darkened, and he stalked closer, backing Zuri against the kitchen counter. "You'll do the right thing, Zuri," he growled, his voice low and menacing.

Suddenly, Aurélien's voice cut through the tension. "ZuZu? What the hell are you doing near my fiancée?"

He pushed Ernest aside, positioning himself between them.

Ernest snarled, "Mind your business, Aurélien. She is not yet your wife."

Aurélien sucked his teeth, turning to Zuri. "ZuZu? What's going on?"

Zuri took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving her father's face. "He wants me to convince you to buy him a car. Says it's the least you can do since you're 'getting me'," she explained, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Aurélien's jaw clenched. "Mr. Awanto Nchang, I've already said no to the car. If you can't respect our choices, you're welcome to leave our home."

Ernest's finger jabbed towards Aurélien's chest, but before he could speak, Fernand entered the kitchen.

"Step back from my son and Zuri, Ernest," Fernand said, his voice calm but firm.

Fuming, Ernest complied, but not before issuing a final threat to Zuri. "If this marriage falls apart, you have no home in New York." With that, he stalked out.

Aurélien turned to Zuri, his hands gently caressing her arms. "Are you okay, ma chérie?"

Zuri nodded, a newfound resolve in her eyes. "If he wants to act like that, good riddance. I'm done with his bullshit." She stood on her tiptoes, placing a chaste kiss on Aurélien's lips. "The makeup artist and hairstylist should be here soon. I need to get ready for the lunch."

As Zuri left the kitchen, her head held high, Aurélien and Fernand exchanged a look of admiration. This woman was stronger than anyone had given her credit for, and Aurélien felt a surge of pride.

Zuri made her way to the study where the hairstylist and makeup artist had just arrived. As they began working their magic, she felt a mix of emotions coursing through her - adrenaline from finally standing up to her father, pride in her newfound strength, and a twinge of sadness at his parting words.

Who knew it would take an arranged marriage for me to finally tell him to fuck off? she thought wryly.

New York had been her home, but Madrid was her future. And if things didn't work out with Aurélien? Well, she'd cross that bridge if she came to it. For now, she was relishing in her newfound freedom.

The hairstylist worked diligently, weaving fabric and cowrie shells into an intricate updo that celebrated both tradition and modernity. When it was done, Zuri retreated to the adjoining bathroom to slip into her dress.

The gown was a masterpiece of delicate embroidery, its pale gold fabric shimmering with every movement. Instead of the bold patterns of ankara, this dress featured subtle motifs inspired by Bamileke art, creating a look that was both elegant and culturally significant.

As Zuri emerged, putting the finishing touches on her outfit, she caught sight of Aurélien greeting their families in the foyer. He cut a striking figure in his ndop, the rich, intricately embroidered fabric of the traditional Bamileke robe making him look regal and powerful. The matching hat perched atop his head completed the look, making him appear every inch the Cameroonian prince.

For a moment, Zuri forgot to breathe. Despite the drama and the uncertainty, she couldn't deny that Aurélien looked… well, damn. As their eyes met across the room, a small smile played on his lips, and Zuri felt a flutter in her stomach.

Aurélien sauntered over, his eyes doing that slow once-over thing that made her want to check if her dress was still on. "You look beautiful, ma chérie," he murmured, planting a kiss on her temple that sent tingles all the way to her toes.

"You clean up pretty well yourself," Zuri quipped, praying her voice didn't betray how his touch made her feel like a teenager with a crush.

They made their way to the backyard, navigating the sea of relatives like it was a particularly chatty obstacle course. The garden had been transformed into a vibrant celebration space, with colorful fabrics draped over tables and traditional Bamileke decorations adorning every surface.

Elder Nkeng, looking like he'd stepped straight out of a history book, gathered them in the center of the space. The crowd fell silent, probably holding their collective breath to see if Zuri would trip over her dress or something equally embarrassing.

"May the spirits of our ancestors smile upon this union," Elder Nkeng said in Bamum, his voice carrying across the yard.

"He's asking our ancestors to bless us," Aurélien whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her neck. "And hoping we don't fuck this up too badly."

Zuri bit back a laugh, trying to look appropriately solemn as the other elders joined in, their voices rising in a chant that sounded like a cross between a lullaby and a football cheer.

As the blessings wrapped up, the feast kicked off. Tables groaned under the weight of traditional Cameroonian dishes - ndolé, fufu, jollof rice, and more. The smell alone was enough to make Zuri's mouth water.

Looking around at her new extended family, Zuri felt a weird sense of belonging she hadn't expected. Despite being Americanized as all hell, she'd never felt more connected to her heritage than right here, right now. And doing it all with Aurélien by her side? Well, that was just the icing on the cake.

As she watched him charm the pants off her aunties (not literally, thank God), Zuri couldn't help but feel a surge of... something. Gratitude? Affection? Whatever it was, it made her think that maybe this whole arranged marriage thing wasn't the total disaster she'd feared.

Aurélien couldn't take his eyes off Zuri. He wanted to fuck his fiancée so badly it hurt. Between her looking beyond beautiful in her cultural attire and those sexy-as-fuck pajamas that teased him mercilessly at night, he was struggling to keep his sexual frustration in check. And don't even get him started on how hot it was when she told off her father yesterday evening. Sheesh. He was enamored, down bad… whatever you want to call it.

Today was Saturday - their Ntchounke (traditional engagement ceremony). All his friends and teammates had been invited weeks ago. His mother had worked tirelessly putting it all together, and he couldn't wait to see the finished product.

This weekend had brought him and Zuri closer than he'd imagined. He was itching for some alone time with her tomorrow. For the sake of their family sleeping under their roof, he hadn't dared go beyond cuddling or a simple kiss to her temple, and even those innocent gestures seemed to make his situation worse.

And now, looking at her in that floor-length gown of rich, royal blue fabric, its bodice adorned with intricate gold embroidery featuring traditional Bamileke patterns… Aurélien felt his mouth go dry. The dress hugged her curves perfectly, its modern silhouette balanced beautifully with traditional elements. The striking atoghu crown hat atop her head, decorated with blue and gold beads, made her look like royalty.

His own regal toghu matched her dress perfectly, the same royal blue fabric embroidered with bold, geometric patterns in gold. His nkwa'' cap and the ceremonial feather fan he carried completed the look. As they sat side by side, their matching outfits created a visually stunning and deeply symbolic representation of their union.

In the car on the way to La Quinta de Jarama, Aurélien couldn't stop stealing glances at Zuri. "You okay?" he asked, his hand finding hers.

"Yes," she replied, squeezing his hand.

When they arrived, Zuri's jaw dropped. The venue was a perfect blend of boho chic and traditional flair, with an explosion of flowers in reds, yellows, and greens. "Oh my god," she breathed, then turned to engulf Josette in a hug. "Thank you so much. It's beautiful."

They stood together as they greeted their guests and when his friends and teammates finally arrived, he immediately centered himself, mentally preparing for all of the teasing.

Camavinga approached, whistling appreciatively. "Looking good, you two!"

"Not so bad yourself, Cama," Zuri replied with a wink. "Loving the suit."

Jude and Lila weren't far behind. "Oh my god, you guys look amazing!" Lila gushed, admiring their outfits.

"Seriously," Jude agreed. "You're putting the rest of us to shame."

Rodrygo, Vini Jr., and Kylian sauntered over, identical mischievous grins on their faces.

"So, Tchouaméni," Vini started, "how does it feel to be officially off the market?"

"Better watch out," Kylian added, "or we'll all be next."

Aurélien rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Like I've escaped a terrible fate," he joked, earning a playful swat from Zuri.

Then came Jules Koundé, Aurélien's best friend. Jules looked sharp in a tailored suit, his locs styled impeccably. "So this is the famous Zuri," Jules said with a grin.

Before he could respond, a shrill scream cut through the air from his fiancée. Aurélien and Jules raised their eyebrows as Zuri took off running (as much as her dress allowed) towards a stunning woman in a black dress.

"Putain," Jules muttered in French. "Son amie est carrément canon." (Fuck. Her friend is fine as fuck.)

Aurélien elbowed him in the ribs as Zuri dragged her friend over. "Guys, this is my best friend, Senait," Zuri said, beaming. "Senait, this is Aurélien and his friend Jules."

"Enchanté," Jules said, his most charming smile in place. Aurélien fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Unfortunately for Jules, Senait didn't pay him not a once of attention. "So you're the one who's stolen my Zuri away," Senait said, eyeing Aurélien with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"Guilty as charged," Aurélien replied, feeling suddenly self-conscious under her scrutiny.

Before the conversation could continue, the sound of drums filled the air. A group of traditional Bamileke dancers emerged, their colorful costumes a blur of motion as they moved to the rhythmic beat.

"Holy shit," Zuri breathed, her eyes wide with wonder. "Is this part of the ceremony?"

Aurélien nodded, leaning in close to be heard over the music. "Oh, yeah, just wait, it gets better."

As if on cue, Elder Nkeng appeared, gesturing for Aurélien and Zuri to join him. The crowd parted, creating a path for them.

"What's happening?" Zuri whispered, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

"Trust me," Aurélien murmured, taking her hand and leading her towards the elder.

Elder Nkeng smiled warmly at them, producing a length of beautifully woven cloth. "This symbolizes the binding of your lives," he explained in Bamum, Aurélien translating for Zuri.

With practiced movements, the elder began to tie their hands together. Aurélien could feel Zuri's pulse quicken where their wrists touched.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

Zuri nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, just... this is really happening, huh?"

As Elder Nkeng finished the knot, the crowd erupted in cheers. The flash of cameras went off in rapid succession, capturing the moment.

Aurélien looked at Zuri, her face radiant with joy and maybe a touch of disbelief. He couldn't help but grin, feeling a bit dazed himself.

This is really happening, he thought.

"So," he said, leaning in close, "think we can convince them to leave us tied up like this for the rest of the party?"

Zuri snorted, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Why, Tchouaméni? Afraid I'll make a run for it?"

"Nah," he replied, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Just like having you this close."

He watched with satisfaction as a warmth crept up her cheeks just as they were swarmed by well-wishers.

"Félicitations!" Jules called out, clapping Aurélien on the back. "Though I still can't believe you beat me to the altar, man."

As the celebration continued around them, Aurélien found himself constantly aware of Zuri's presence beside him. The warmth of her hand in his, the brush of her arm against his side, the way she'd lean in to whisper comments in his ear... it was driving him crazy in the best possible way.

Later, as they swayed together on the dance floor (their hands finally unbound), Aurélien pulled Zuri closer. "You know," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear, "I think I might be the luckiest guy here."

Zuri pulled back slightly, eyebrow raised. "Oh? And why's that?"

Aurélien grinned, spinning her out and then back into his arms. "Because I get to take you home tonight."

The look Zuri gave him then – part surprise, part desire, all heat – nearly made him forget they were in a room full of people. As the music swelled around them, Aurélien made a silent promise to himself: arranged or not, he was going to make damn sure this marriage was one for the books.

As the DJ spun the next track, a familiar rhythm of Afrobeats pulsed through the speakers. Zuri looked a bit lost as the beat shifted, her brow furrowing slightly as she glanced at the crowd around them moving to the rhythm with ease. Aurélien couldn’t help but shake his head, amusement tugging at his lips.

"Shit, you gonna have to learn some moves," he teased, watching her struggle to catch the beat.

Zuri’s lips parted in a playful pout. "You should’ve known by now that I’m no dancer."

"You proved yourself wrong the other night, ZuZu. Just dance," he urged, leaning in closer.

She started to protest, "Aurél—"

"Dance with your fiancé," he said in a low, commanding tone that made Zuri lick her lower lip in a way that sent heat straight to his core. "That's not a request either."

"Oh?" Zuri's eyebrow arched, a challenge in her eyes.

"Exactly," he said, pulling her closer to move to the beat.

Around them, the dance floor came alive. Their friends and family were getting into it, but it was Camavinga who stole the show with his impressive footwork.

"Eh, footwork! Eh, footwork!" The chant rose from the crowd, led mostly by their cousins.

Aurélien grinned, he could always count on his cousins to hype someone up. But his focus quickly returned to Zuri, who was starting to loosen up, her body moving more naturally to the rhythm.

"See?" he murmured in her ear, his hands guiding her hips. "You've got this."

Zuri's answering smile was equal parts shy and seductive, and Aurélien found himself thinking that the real party would start when they finally got home. "You’re lucky I like you."

"Lucky?" He chuckled, his breath hot against her ear as he leaned in. "Bébé, I’m just getting started."

She let out a small laugh, but her gaze remained locked on his, the heat between them undeniable as the music pulsed, carrying them deeper into their rhythm. But then, her eyes flickered to the other side of the dancefloor, something catching her attention. Aurélien followed her gaze, spotting Senait and Jules dancing together. Senait’s back was pressed against Jules’ front, and he was catching her whines with a practiced ease, both of them lost in their own world.

"Oh my god, Senait—" Zuri started to say, but Aurélien quickly shushed her, surprising her into silence.

Her eyes widened as she gaped at him. "Did you just shush me?"

Aurélien smirked. "Don’t be a cockblocker, bébé," he teased.

"I’m not," she grumbled, pouting in that adorable way she did when things didn’t go her way. Aurélien groaned inwardly, fighting the urge to kiss that bratty pout right off her face. Since they’d started spending more time together, he realized that he thoroughly enjoyed this side of her. It was frustrating sometimes, but it also drove him wild. The thought of taming her properly had crossed his mind more than once.

"You are," he insisted, his voice deepening, the playful command in his tone unmistakable. "Worry about me tonight. Not Senait."

Zuri shifted closer to him, her lips parting as if she had a comeback ready, but whatever she was going to say died on her lips as the beat shifted again, drawing them back into their own rhythm.

Aurélien grinned, satisfied, pulling her even closer. "That’s more like it," he murmured, his hands sliding to her hips, guiding her body in time with his. "Just you and me, ma chérie."

Zuri relaxed into him, her pout fading into a smile as they swayed to the music, the rest of the room forgotten.

As the night wore on, they found themselves surrounded by a mountain of beautifully wrapped gifts.

"Time to see what damage our friends have done," Aurélien joked, picking up a sizeable box.

They tore into the gifts, alternating between genuine appreciation and fits of laughter. Jude and Lila had gifted them a set of "Mr. and Mrs." aprons, complete with cheesy soccer puns. Camavinga's gift was a state-of-the-art coffee machine that Aurélien was pretty sure cost more than some cars.

When Jules finally made his way over, Aurélien couldn't resist teasing his friend. "Alors, tu t'amuses bien?" (So, enjoying the party?)

Jules tried to play it cool, but Aurélien knew him too well to miss the slight flush on his cheeks. "C'est pas mal. Bonne musique, bonne bouffe..." (It's alright. Good music, good food...)

"Bonne compagnie? (Good company?)" Aurélien supplied, smirking.

Jules rolled his eyes. "Ta gueule, mec. J'étais juste poli." (Shut up, man. I was just being polite.)

"Ah bon," Aurélien nodded, not buying it for a second. "Et c'est pour ça que tu n'as pratiquement pas quitté Senait de la soirée?" (Uh-huh. And that's why you've barely left Senait's side all night?)

Jules opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, Senait appeared at his side, slipping her arm through his.

"What are you two whispering about?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Aurélien's eyebrows shot up, and he couldn't help but grin at Jules' flustered expression. "Oh, nothing important. Just catching up," he replied smoothly in English.

Jules cleared his throat, looking both pleased and embarrassed. "We were just... uh..."

"About to dance?" Senait finished for him, tugging him towards the dance floor. "Absolutely."

As they walked away, Aurélien felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Zuri, an eyebrow raised in question. "What was that all about?"

Aurélien smirked. "Let's just say your friend might be sticking around Madrid a bit longer than planned."

Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd, and Elder Nkeng stepped forward, his voice commanding as he spoke in Bamum. His words cut through the air, and everyone immediately quieted, listening with reverence. Aurélien leaned down, his breath warm against Zuri’s ear as he translated.

"He’s saying it’s time for the farewell ceremony," he murmured.

Zuri’s fingers squeezed his instinctively, her nerves evident. Though she had done well hiding them throughout the evening, moments like this reminded her how unfamiliar everything still felt, despite how deep they’d already gotten.

The guests began forming a pathway, an aisle of well-wishers lined with beaming smiles and blessings. Aurélien took Zuri’s hand, intertwining their fingers as he led her forward. Rose petals and confetti fluttered around them, catching in the soft breeze, and the melodic hum of the Bamileke chant filled the room, rising into the air like a blessing carried by the wind.

He could hear snippets of the words, fragments of Bamum and French woven together—prosperity, love, fertility, unity—each phrase stirring something deeper in him. Aurélien glanced at Zuri, who looked radiant under the falling petals, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted in awe. Her grip on his hand tightened, and in that moment, as they were showered with blessings, the weight of their situation became undeniable.

A rush of protectiveness swelled in him, followed by something more dangerous. Desire.

Zuri caught him staring, and her lips curled into a soft, questioning smile. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, her voice low, teasing, but with a hint of curiosity.

Aurélien’s smirk deepened. "You look good under confetti," he said, his tone playful but tinged with heat.

Zuri rolled her eyes, though her smile didn’t falter. "Is that all?"

"No," he replied, his voice dropping to that intimate tone he knew drove her crazy. "It’s everything else, too."

The farewell ceremony was winding down, with the older guests exchanging warm goodbyes and lingering on final blessings. Zuri looked calm, but Aurélien knew she wasn’t unaffected by the evening’s weight. And neither was he.

Aurélien led Zuri toward the waiting car, his hand at the small of her back, a gesture that had become instinctive in recent days. His thoughts, however, were a storm of emotions.

They had been getting closer, that much was obvious. It wasn’t just the physical chemistry between them, though that was undeniable. It was the late-night conversations, the laughter, the way they seemed to just fit. But tonight, something had shifted. Something more real, more intense, had taken hold. His fingers flexed against her lower back as they neared the car, the heat of her skin burning through the thin fabric of her dress.

The door closed behind them with a soft thud, leaving them in the intimate silence of the car. Zuri settled into her seat, and Aurélien felt a heat radiating through him that had been building all night.

Desire was one thing — he was no stranger to it — but this was more. They’d been skirting around each other for weeks now, growing closer, sharing more than just a bed in his house. He had gotten used to the sound of her laughter, the feel of her body curled up next to him at night. The question that had been lingering in the back of his mind for days now, though, was one he couldn't shake anymore.

Would they keep sharing the same bed after all this? After their parents left tomorrow and life returned to whatever normal looked like for them now, would she still come to him at night? Would she want to?

And more importantly… was she ready to cross that line with him?

Aurélien's jaw tightened as he glanced over at her, watching as she looked out the window, her expression soft but unreadable. He didn’t want to rush her, didn’t want to push her into something she wasn’t ready for. But damn, it had been hard keeping his hands off her. The tension between them had been simmering for weeks now, and tonight had only turned the heat up.

He wanted her. Badly. More than he could admit, even to himself. But it wasn’t just lust. It was something deeper, something about the way she made him feel grounded and alive all at once.

He leaned back against the seat, exhaling slowly, his hand still resting on her thigh.

She turned to him then, her gaze meeting his. There was a question in her eyes, maybe the same one that had been plaguing him all night.

"What?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aurélien’s lips curled into a slow smirk. "Nothing," he replied, though his voice was rougher than he intended. His thumb brushed absently over her knee, the contact making his pulse jump. "Just thinking."

"About?" she pressed, leaning slightly toward him, her tone playful but curious.

He let out a low chuckle, shifting in his seat to face her fully. "About what happens next," he said, his voice serious despite the smirk still tugging at his lips. His hand slid up her leg just a little, the weight of his palm warm and firm. "After your parents leave tomorrow. After all this… settles."

Zuri’s brow furrowed slightly, her teeth tugging on her lower lip. "You mean… us?"

Aurélien nodded, his gaze dropping to her lips before meeting her eyes again. "Yeah, us."

There was a pause, the air between them heavy with unspoken words and a tension that had been building for too long.

"I don’t know," she admitted, her voice soft but honest. "I mean… this weekend has been…" she trailed off, searching for the right words. "Different. Good, but… different."

He nodded, understanding what she wasn’t saying. It had been different. They’d gone from strangers bound by an arrangement to something… more. But what exactly, neither of them knew yet.

Aurélien shifted closer to her, his hand moving to cup her cheek gently. "I’m not asking you to make any decisions tonight," he murmured, his thumb brushing over her skin softly. "I just… I want you to know that whatever happens next, it’s up to you. No pressure, no expectations. Just… us."

Zuri’s eyes softened, and she leaned into his touch, her hand covering his. "I know," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Aurélien’s heart pounded in his chest as he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a slow, deliberate kiss. It wasn’t rushed, but there was a hunger beneath it, a promise of what could be if they both allowed it.

When they finally pulled apart, Zuri’s breath was shaky, her eyes still closed as if savoring the moment.

She smiled softly, and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder as the car drove further away from the venue.

Whatever happened next, Aurélien knew one thing for sure — he wasn’t letting go of her anytime soon. And if tonight was any indication, neither was she.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

#emjayewrites #aurelien tchouameni fanfic #aurelien tchouameni x reader #aurelien tchouameni imagine #aurelien tchouameni #aurelien tchouameni fan fiction #fouled by fate

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bananaactivity · 3 months ago

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Im not finished with Carlos fully but he looks good enough for right now ( he’s 22 in this picture here)

I changed Carlos and Evie up, so now Evie is a vain witch like her mother who is fashionable but she doesn’t sew her own stuff. ( which is for the better cse wtf was that ugly ass dress she made for Mal in D2???)

Carlos considers himself to be a very expensive person and can be pretty big germaphobe. He hates getting anything on his clothes and he refuses to wear the school uniforms at Auradon Uni because they’re ugly. He wears lots of black white grey and red, with gold accents usually. He does theme around dog associated items like gold bone cutlets, paw print lapel chains, and a tennis ball brooch. He often wears red gloves and his favorite shoes are his collection of red bottom dress shoes. He likes hiding red on the interlining of his clothes too, such as his jackets and hats and vests.

A lot of his own person style is derived from 1990s London fashion ( as the artist that means I get my references from the 1996 101 Dalmatians live action movie, the styling of Cruela in that movie is ICONIC AND IMACULATE, and I MUST reference her for Carlos.

PURRRR

Of course he wears REAL animal print. And he’s not a weak touch me not prick like some think. He’s still tech savvy and does Anyalitics and specs for the core four. He also loves GUNS 😄. Think of him like a sharp shooter who stays in the back of turf wars and snipes people. The isle doesn’t have many marks men ( they all really like swords for some reason) so he’s pretty dangerous. He builds his own weapons too.

His passion started out as a way for him to collect his own furs but Harry gets him most of what he needs plus he always needs Carlos to redo his wardrobe ( he gets… messy… after a couple days work) Carlos hates that Harry ruins his creations so fast but he pays him well and gifts him rare fabrics and samples from Auradon.

Because Carlos has no magic Mal always underestimates him. She sees him as only a stylist and ranged weapon specialist. Even tho she acknowledges him for his wit and tech skills she still doesn’t listen to him. Sometimes he wishes he could stay with Harry but then he’d have to do more work up front. Harry understood what Carlos was capable of and respected him a lot. What Harry doesn’t understand is that not everybody likes to be covered head to toe in hot sticky blood 24/7. Harry had also promised him a suite on his boat that nobody else was allowed to occupy, but even if Harry’s crew feared HARRY they wouldn’t mind having an attitude with CARLOS for preferential treatment, even if it is what he deserves 🙄

Harry and Carlos’s relationship is the definition of there are two wolves inside you. Carlos smokes and drinks but he’s more of a Marlboro and Merlot type of guy and Harry’s a Rum and Cigar kinda lad. ( I’m using cartoon logic and say that those habits are purely aesthetic based of iconography from the original Disney moves, Cruella smokes and Capt. Hook smokes two cigars at once)

Carols isn’t really scared of dogs anymore but when he arrives at Auradon he “befriends” his roommate Chad ( now an animal lover like his mother) who has pet rats and a entourage of wild animals constantly in their dorm, and threatens to shoot and skin them all every single day to make a new line of coats ( when Chad rebuttals that his rats are too small to make coats, Carlos says they’d make the perfect fuzzy gloves 💀) He also uses Chad as a living mannequin for his designs. They have a goofy relationship with each other, Carlos does make Chad do all the dirty work of skinning and draining the animals he hunts but despite how traumatic that is Carlos is a fun sweet guy so it’s okay 💀💀💀.

Jay is jelly of Carlos due to his closeness with Harry. ( I guess the way to Jays heart and respect is by holding him at sword point and threatening to gut him and hang him by those very guts over shark infested waters and watch them nibble away at him 💀)

Next I’ll find up Carlos and do some fit designs then I’ll redesign Jay and tell that gutting story 😛

#descendants #digital art #disney #disney descendants #harry hook #fanart #original art #carlos descendants #carlos de vil #cruella de vil #harry hook fanfic #carlos di vil fanfic #descendants fanart #jay descendants #mal descendants #Evie queen descendants #digital illustration #disney fanfiction #disney channel

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badassindistress · 3 months ago

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I’ve been scrolling your waistcoat tag and have decided it is time for me to make one for myself! Do you have a particular pattern you recommend for first time waistcoat makers?

Yesssss ha ha ha yessssss! Waistcoats!

I don't have a favourite commercial pattern myself (i drew mine from a dutch menswear tailoring manual from the 70s), but I do have opinions and suggestions:

If you just want a free pattern:

https://www.ralphpink.com/tommy-waistcoat-sewing-pattern/

If you want a very good historical one:

https://www.laughingmoonmercantile.com/product-page/125-download-men-s-vest-1795-1817

(Or any other laughing moon pattern, they have very thorough instructions)

And if you want more advanced tailored and aspirational to me personally:

What I'd look for in a beginner pattern:

No collar yet, figure out basic fit first

A tie or lacing in the back to make fit easier

Some kind of bust dart, regardless of your personal shape (adjusting the dart is an easier way to fit things on yourself)

Hope this helps! Good luck on your waistcoat journey!

#everyday I'm wondering why i haven't bought and made that black Snail pattern yet #i hope this is helpful #talking about sewing #waistcoat spam #tldr is any basic waistcoat pattern will do #a talia original

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nutty1005 · 3 months ago

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Xiao Zhan | The simpler is more complex

Original Article: https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s/Zkps0vHvP89ZrMWQIUZ3NA Original Author: JIAWEI This article was originally published on 10 August 2024 on ELLE’s Weixin Official Account 世界时装之苑ELLE.

Xiao Zhan believed that truth brings simplicity. But in performance, he is starting to like multi-sided and complex characters more, or rather, this is the true and real state of human existence. At a time when everything is being simplified, to be willing to admit the difference between people, to seek the possibility of communication, to be sensitive and defend complexity, this definitely requires passion, as well as courage.

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Two black curtains reached the top of the studio ridge, neatly separating the shooting area from the surroundings, there was a need to go through a maze of them to enter the small core space. Pure white, plenty of air conditioning, and the camera shutter sound was high-frequency and continuous.

Xiao Zhan wore black clothes and rarely made any unnecessary movements. For a while, the lights broke down and photography was suspended, so he maintained standing in the dark with one foot on the wooden box; when the staff and the photographer were discussing the photographs, adjusting the styling, he stood alone in front of the display screen, and the weak screen light enveloped his body. Very occasionally, he swayed slightly to the background music, his legs lean but muscular.

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#01 I’m afraid of becoming dull

After entering the entertainment industry, these things quickly became part of his daily life – cameras, spotlights, monitors, and barriers. Because of his career and popularity, he had fissioned into countless “Xiao Zhans”, such as giant portraits on the facades of high-end shopping malls, the projections of an astonishing number of fans, or the appearance of characters in successive movies and TV series.

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Currently, in the dressing room after the shooting, Xiao Zhan was carrying his box of whole grain salad, vividly imitating the scene of meeting director Zheng Xiaolong.

“I was a little bit hesitant, so I asked the director if he wanted me to be thinner or stronger? He said, thin, of course thinner, so good looking, sharp.” After a while, Zheng Xiaolong saw him again while taking final costuming photographs, “He said, hey, you’ve done well.” From then till now, he has lost more than five kilograms.

Xiao Zhan, the source of all of this fission, was presentable and relaxed, to him the glamor seen by the outside world was a supplementary value. Sometimes he even forgot about it and said, “No one really cares about you.” Then he continued to talk about his work.

Recently completed was the 5-month filming of “The Legend of Zang Hai” in Hengdian. The previous film, also shot for 5 months, was the film “The Legend of the Condor Heroes: The Great Hero” directed by Tsui Hark. This was often the case for large-scale movies and long-running television dramas, it took four or five months once you joined the group. In 2022, his filming work was mainly “Where Dreams Begin / The Youth Memories” and “Sunshine By My Side”, in 2021 it was “The Longest Promise”, in 2020 it was “Ace Troops”, in 2019 it was “Douluo Continent” and “The Oath of Love”.

Endless filming appointments. Hence, it was sometimes impossible to decide whether the interval between filming should be lengthened or shortened.

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In the second half of 2019, during the filming of “The Oath of Love”, Xiao Zhan was filming during the day and recording the variety show “Our Song” at night. Both sides were very challenging. The former was his first time playing the male lead in an urban drama, so he had little experience and was under great pressure; the difficulty of the latter lies in the harmonizing, “I had to memorize all the harmonizing that were different from the song’s tone, and not to be led astray. “

“Then, I thought it didn’t matter. I slept for an hour or two and woke up a good man again. But now, while my mind says it doesn’t matter, my body will make some protests.”

This year he was filming in Hengdian. Later, one day, he discovered that his tonsils were inflamed and it was painful to swallow, but he went to work as usual. Until the director came over and asked him, what happened to your eyes? Only then did he see his own swollen eyes in the mirror, held on until the afternoon, “completely like a frog.”

He had to go to the hospital, the symptoms themselves were very common and could be stopped by taking medicine. What can’t be done was exactly what doctors advised the most: you need to rest.

More importantly, “Perception will become dull. I am really afraid of this, afraid of becoming very mechanical and formulaic.” When saying this, the emphasis was on the word “really”. When he chatted with seniors, “They also said that you have to live life, you need to experience life.”

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The fact is that the life in the limelight is somewhat contrary to the life of ordinary people, but the profession of an actor requires him to be in touch with as many folds of life as possible.

A while ago, he watched a one-man show on a variety show, describing the current workplace situation of contemporary young people. Xiao Zhan had opened a studio and worked before entering the entertainment industry. He could understand the gloom caused by going to work, but the new vocabulary and tools that appeared in the workplace made his sense of resonance weaken. He found himself gradually uncoupling to a certain extent.

#02 The flavor of life lies in the details

In early June, Xiao Zhan took a short vacation and returned to his hometown of Chongqing. He loved walking very much, and one night he walked for several hours, visiting old streets, People’s Liberation Monument, and even around the place where he used to work.

In 2014, the 23-year-old Xiao Zhan graduated from university and worked as a designer in a design studio. Every weekday morning, he transferred from Line 2 to Line 3 at Niujiaituo Station, pushing through the crowds and squeezing onto the light rail, and several times he had been squeezed so hard that his face was pressed against the glass windows.

He simply stuck against the glass and looked at the Jialing River below, seeing the strange rocks exposed in the dry season and various people, including winter swimmers, joggers and fishermen, with a rather optimistic spirit.

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He still loved to observe the people around him——

“Why are you still here so late?”

“People walking in a hurry must be people who have just gotten off work and are rushing back, their behavior is just like when I was trying to catch the subway, when it’s the last train and you want to run, in a panic. Some food delivery guys are rush forward undauntedly. There are also some very leisurely people, sitting there drinking beer, then going home and starting a new day.”

“Everyone has an exciting story happening, and it is everyone’s life that makes up our society. So it is wondrous, everyone is the protagonist, we are all filming our own biographies, how will tomorrow’s story develop?”

At that moment, mixed in, he was like all those who have been busy working in a foreign land for a long time and finally had the time to go home, and discovered that “it had been a long time since I came here, and there had been quite a lot of changes.” “Actually, I’m not particularly happy or have any other feelings. I’m living, that’s all.”

Two and a half days later, Xiao Zhan left Chongqing and returned to Beijing due to work, then rushed to Shanghai, and then in turn to France. This time he brought his parents too. This was a long in coming family trip, within a week, they traveled from France to Switzerland and back to France. Every detail of the trip was magnified, they were happy, bickering, or just walking for a while, “it was all very vivid.”

On the day they parted, they had dinner at a restaurant in the south of France, the car to pick him up arrived and he had to leave first. Before leaving, his mother hugged him and told him to take care of himself. In a rare move, his father also hugged him awkwardly.

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The flavor of life lies in the details.

“I used to think that work was everything and life was not that important, it was nothing more than having a place to sleep, then getting up, going to work, finishing work, and resting. But now, when my parents have grown older, and I have not been with them for a long time, you will feel as if each other’s lives, even your family’s, would become further and further apart. “He especially did not want this to happen.

The way to avoid suspension and regain the real sense of life is not difficult. “When you have time, go out and see more. The important thing is to feel life and feel the world. Even if some of the things are bad and cruel, they are all life, and will burst out with energy when you need it.”

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#03 Stay innocent, stay complex

Halfway through the interview, Xiao Zhan suddenly said that he was ambivalent about long interviews. On the one hand, he was worried that he had not grown up enough and would show ignorance in the conversation, but on the other hand, he wanted to explore some subtle feelings through the conversation because he felt that he was not good at using words to record them.

Observation, feeling, understanding and expression are the essentials of why actors can bring creativity.

“Dialogue is also muscle memory.” Xiao Zhan said, “Although I am very introverted, I am not antisocial. Because I think actors need to learn to express, express your inner thoughts, and digest the content conveyed to you by the other party.”

Before the filming of “Sunshine By My Side” started, he met with the main creators and held several script meetings to deepen his understanding of one another and the characters. In the early stages of “The Legend of Zang Hai”, the producer also mentioned that he would discuss the script in detail and talk about a scene with a lot of his own understanding.

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Xiao Zhan is not an actor with a professional background, when he first entered the industry and filmed “Battle Through the Heavens” and “The Wolf”, he had strong doubts and asked himself, am I suitable? The constant negativity and self-refuting made him lose self-confidence.

Sometimes he would be asked what he would be doing now if he had not participated in the talent show, debuted, or entered the entertainment industry at the age of 23. He had thought about it, but did not look back.

If he was not good at acting, then he needed to spend extra time taking acting classes, review more in the monitors, and ask more advice from his seniors. He put his head down stubbornly, and with hard work, he slowly found the knack.

Later the filming of “Where Dreams Being / The Youth Memories” started, Xiao Zhan played Xiao Chunsheng, a young man from the military courtyard in Beijing, who was completely different from him, and even his accent was completely distinct. He felt insecure. Before filming started for many scenes, director Fu Ning would run over and whisper to him, “Don’t be afraid Zhanzhan, just speak bravely, if you feel it, just say it, the audience actually can feel your emotions and what you want to express.” .

He also gradually gained more self-awareness: “Techniques may not be my area of expertise, I rely more on feelings. Only when I feel it myself then I can have the confidence to interpret it. If I rely solely on some techniques, I don’t think it is sufficiently moving.”

It had been 8 years since Xiao Zhan first acted, and his resume included leading male roles in films and television dramas of various themes. But he still felt that he is a newcomer and hopes to cooperate with more experienced production teams if there is an opportunity in the future.

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He would not think too much, he actually did not know his work plan divided by year. He only cared about the work arrangements for the next stage, rather than “asking about things that are too far away.”

“I still feel like a child now, but in fact I am not anymore. It seems like I am still in high school, but in fact I have grown up.” The nature of a child means curiosity, desire to explore, and power of imagination.

He placed the curiosity and desire to explore into his characters, “I mean, for myself, when I dig into the character’s background and past, I explore the complexity and contradiction of the character as a person, and present it. Only in this way can some of his choices and motivations be understood by the audience, and the work may then be good, and only then can you have the audience you have now, right?”

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#(Q&A)

ELLE: During the break, will you think about anything on the set? Xiao Zhan: Of course, I remember that just a few days after filming was completed, I was still dreaming that I was still filming, and the director and I were still discussing how to say that phrase on set? How to handle that scene?

ELLE: Do you actually miss the atmosphere on the set? Xiao Zhan: I like it very much, because I like the feeling of everyone creating together and working together to get something done.

ELLE: When you first entered the entertainment industry and your popularity grew very quickly, you said you felt it was a bit unreal and magical, but now you seem to be quite relaxed. How did this change occur? Xiao Zhan: Rather than being unreal or magical, after so many years, I feel that I hadn’t had time to adapt to such a fast pace at that time, so when I woke up from sleep, I was like where am I today? What am I doing? I think it is a process, just like when you first enter the workplace, you will be very excited, “Work here I come, please take good care of me”, “My highness is here, everyone get out of the way”, “I can do it, I will do it”. (Laughs) But after experiencing a lot of things, you will feel that it seems that everything needs to be considered in the long term.

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ELLE: In several interviews, you mentioned that you like to play roles that “can convey energy.” Why do you have such a preference? Xiao Zhan: Because I think this is the life of the character. The kind of energy I’m talking about is not just a single, generally understood positive energy, I’m talking about nourishment that can subtly influence and moisturize. I believe that every character has a complete storyline inside, this is what I like very much, and as long as you dig deep, you can move people. I don’t really like to call the villain a ��villain”, as it seems to be a bad character from the beginning, but in fact it is not, he may have his own difficulties.

ELLE: It sounds like “transmitting energy” is just a general term, but is it actually about understanding different people through performance? Xiao Zhan: Yes, if you break it down to each character, what they convey is different. But if you want to talk about “good people” and “bad people”, then I don’t think it’s interesting.

ELLE: So do you think performance is a form of communication? Xiao Zhan: Yes, you can say that, I think it’s great to say that, (performance) is a bridge to communicate with the audience. Just like when a drama is broadcasting, I will read some of the audience’s comments and impressions after watching it, and I feel that they have a very rich feelings about the work. When I see some comments that are exactly the same as my thoughts during the filming, I will feel very amazed, as if the bridge is really connected, we don’t know each other in life and have never communicated with each other, but he suddenly understands my thoughts then, I’ll just feel that, oh, acting is a beautiful and magical thing.

ELLE: Do you watch some science fiction movies, TV series, and literary works? Xiao Zhan: Yes, I used to like watching “The Three-Body Problem”, I have actually watched some science fiction movies recently, the American drama “Constellation”, and recently I am watching “Dark Matter”, which is about infinite flow and parallel time and space. Because I think maybe there really is a parallel time and space. Every choice you make will split out a different parallel time and space.

ELLE: Then will you imagine Xiao Zhan in parallel time and space? Xiao Zhan: I will really wonder, for example, is he still an actor? Maybe yes, but is he still filming now? Is he still singing now? Or is he also a designer? Is he an employee or is he his own boss? (Laughs) Really, I will.

ELLE: As for the future, what do you think it will be like? Xiao Zhan: Wow, I feel that the world may return to its original nature when the time comes instead, maybe the world will become a better place, and people will return to very essential communication.

ELLE: This is very interesting. Why do you think so? Xiao Zhan: Anyway, at least now I have a little aversion with this kind of ubiquitous Internet, when we were young, there were no mobile phones, everyone just chatted during meals, my friends would all come downstairs to play, hide and seek, and play various games, I feel that that time was very precious instead.

ELLE: Will there still be an actor career by then? Xiao Zhan: I think there will be. I believe that as long as life goes on, drama will continue. Because everyone needs an outlet, emotional resonance and sustenance, be it images or sounds. So I feel that even if the world is destroyed, as long as there are still people, drama will definitely exist.

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#xiao zhan #xiaozhan #肖战 #sean xiao

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