#speak up if this could be ur kinda deal

[kroosluvr]

temptation

i lowkey have too many notes to write down properly KDFHKDS but ill write them down for Future Cele so i can read it later and be like omggg past cele ur so fun and interesting

in general, the more "color" the scenes have, the closer it is to "real life" as opposed to the muted/hushed winter blues of maruki's reality

i.e. the dark frames w akira smiling and the very last panel are when reality sinks in: first for akira, then for goro

by the way this is long winter au but sumire is still brainwashed. this also works for canonverse but i just had long winter au in mind:o

youve heard of laundry and taxes now get ready for coffee and pastries

in every panel, akira is smiling! :) and goro is very much not smiling.

intentionally his face is hidden in the last 2 pages so its unclear whether it's the "ideal reality" already (akira/goro's daydreams/wants/desires), or if goro is still fighting akira on making sure he picks the right choice

the smoke from the first page kinda leads into the 3rd page omfg COMPLETELY UNINTENTIONAL BUT REALLY COOL LMAOOO

that's nameless and belladonna in jazz jin!!! i love them. I LOVETHEM. i miss them so bad is it obvious

the cafe is loosely based off of caffe strada @ uc berkeley LMAO. my parents used to take me there a lot as a little kid so that's the first cafe i think of when i imagine one. its like right on the streetside, basically on the sidewalk, so its very bustling and people are always walking by... probably a little disconcerting to see everyones summery bright smiles despite the bitter cold and snow

in long winter AU, the Ideal Reality starts before 1/1 so yeah they get to see the new years fireworks together (or something)

also intentional that they wear the same winter outfits in the whole comic although it Probably does not take place at the same time. in maruki's snowglobe, time seems frozen in place... but akira and goro are both acutely aware that the sands are running thru QUICK

goro's frustrated expression on page 3 is one also of disdain: "don't speak FOR me you fucking imbecile" type of expression.

goro, who's never lived a normal life and therefore doesn't know much abt "normalcy" nor really actively seeks it. this 3rd semester is basically purgatory for him and he doesn't care to try and go through the motions the way akira does. akira what do YOU know about the type of "normalcy" i deserve? how do YOU know if i "deserve" that?

im thinking that this is a naive akira who is mostly set on taking the deal because he feels hopeless... seeing all his friends with good happy lives while goro and himself are alive and miserable and shouldering the weight of the world during the horror of long winter......

oh but if he takes the deal they could all be good and alive and happy!!!.... and goro knows this. i feel like in any other universe (i.e. akira is 100% certain on not taking the deal and goro knows this) then goro would be happy and carefree to do these little indulgences for himself and akira's sake, to just enjoy the snowglobe world while it exists.

but this goro is discontent. he sees how akira is enjoying the snowglobe and knows maruki is depending on this. goro has to be the one to remind akira that none of this is his to keep........ in this fucked up world, routine is dangerous. becoming comfortable is dangerous. they cannot keep any of this.

on that note, goro says "i hate you" in a halfhearted sort of way (it's not true and akira knows that.) but he's trying to think of a way that he can dissuade akira from picking the wrong choice.....

and i think the thing is, goro thinks all of this, but he still falls into the rhythm of routine with akira anyway. in a way, goro feels hopeless too.

all of this is maruki's doing........ paralyzed by the inability to choose... whatever you do, you lose. goro needs to hold akira at arm's length so the stupid sentimental fool doesn't get too attached and falls into the wrong universe. akira needs to make a concentrated effort to detach himself from goro even though he wants the simplest thing in the world: just one more unremarkable day with him. it's lose-lose..........,

also i liked drawing the tentacles in the last pic the freaking blue lines on them were SO satisfying to draw

edit: also the last page: the blood flooding the panel….. the idea of the ideal world being built off of the blood and sweat and tears and bodies of the people who could have been. of those lost in the actualization, of those destroyed, of those stitched together and brought back to life. all just for a little false happiness. goro sees it but akira doesn’t, and it’s a grim sight.

[kombuuuu]

Miles 42 headcanons?

no one asked but i’ll deliver !!

Miles!42 x Fem!Reader random headcanons

also a lot of snippets :)

You/Reader: Blue

Miles Morales: Purple

Mama Rio/Rio Morales: Pink

Uncle Aaron/Aaron Morales: Orange

Random/stranger: Black

—

gift giving love language duhhh

Will have you walk with him through malls and whatever you look at for a second too long he buys

You don’t catch on until you’re both eating at a nice restaurant, absentmindedly staring at some plant when a lull in conversation happens.

He purchases the plant.

“Fuck you mean I can’t buy it?”

“Sir, the plants aren’t for sale, this is a dining establishment.”

“Establish the fact I’m gettin’ that plant.”

“Sir—“

50 bucks down and a plant 🆙

He will damn right die if you refuse him. He’ll get all grumpy and pouty when you say he should save for a house, not for you.

convinced you just get shy when bought things (you do).

is even more motivated to buy things

“Miles, baby, you need to save up. Not spend on me!”

“This would look so good on you, Ma.”

“Are you listening??”

“Fuck, and this.”

“Oh my god.”

gets so jealous it’s unbelievable

but only when someone goes too far with you

it’s like 1–100 real quick

he’s not usually the prowling type (ha)

but when someone pushes the line he loses his shit

other than that he’s a supportive bbg all the way

“Wanna go home with me, butterface?”

“Fuck you just say?”

“Nothing homie just get outta here.”

“Say that shit again ‘homie’.”

“Chill the fuck out. Let the lady speak for herself.”

“I’ll fucking speak for my girl all I want, homeboy.”

maybe got a liiiiittle bit of an anger issue

guy went home with a broken nose and a missing tooth

better hope he can afford fill ins

he would never get mad at you though

he gets frustrated you don’t listen sometimes, but it’s never to the point of anger

feel like he has the patience of a fucking SAINT

calm and collected baby u know the deal

“Mami, we gonna have a problem?”

“”

“Didn’t think so.”

a SWEETHEART at times

stand by him being raised right

mama rio taught him to be a romantic

wanted him to take after his dad

so flowers and gifts and chocolates

followed by lovin of any kind

probably a baby for affection but doesn’t show it

so when you get all emotional about being gifted roses for the first time

and hug him and smother him

give him stupid little kisses all over

he’s fainting

poor boy doesn’t know love like u show him

“Baby, are these for me?”

“Yeah, Chiquita. They okay?”

“Wh… They’re perfect.”

“Are you cryin’? I can return ‘em.”

“No! No, no, don’t do that.

I love them, C’mere.”

when you guys get rlly comfortable, like a year and some dating, he ends up getting more chatty

willingly talking w you for hours

feels like you’re the only person he can rlly do that with

rambles so rarely that you kind of just sit in awe when it happens

doesn’t catch himself until he’s trying to name your future kids

“I’ll marry you one day, we’ll have like two, three kids. Get all nice an cozy.

You want a boy or girl? I kinda want both. Definitely not girl first, never having a girl without a brother to protect ‘er.

You’d be such a good Mami.

What’d you wan’ name ‘em? I have a few ideas—“

“..”

“But you could choose the girl cause I don’t know any pretty names. And i’ll choose—“

“..”

“..”

“You gon’ let me keep goin?”

“I love your voice.”

“Tranquila, mami.”

Takes you to every family event he ever has

sits you regularly with Rio and Aaron

they insist you call them uncle and ma

you do, obviously

miles doesn’t need to meet your family if you don’t want him to, but if he ever does he’s totally suave with them

like weirdly smooth

able to get on ur carers good side quick

when you meet his extended family they’re just as loving

his whole family is this bright dash of colour

and you fit right the fuck in

“¡Oh, hija estás preciosa!”

“Dice la estrella de la fiesta!”

“You flatter me, Hija.”

“Miles, come get your girl.”

“You look nice too, Uncle Aaron.”

“..Thanks, kid.”

“Hey Mami, havin’ fun?”

“Aight, I’m out.”

when you find out he’s the prowler you’re not really shocked

he’s hella nervous to tell you and kinda puts it off for a while

as long as you’re not in harms way, nothin matters, yeah?

no

the guilt eats him alive

he’s already lost so much, if he doesn’t do things right with you, then loses you too

he’d probably lose himself

so he tells you

“The Prowler?”

“Yeah.”

“The.. Panther guy I keep seeing on the news-?”

“Mm.”

“Miles are you—

..—Are you killing people?”

“Mami, it’s not like that—“

“oh my god.”

“These men— I kill,”

“Oh my god, oh my god.”

“,They’re bad, you understand.”

“Miles..”

“[Name]. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.. Yeah I understand.”

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“…”

“Are you mad.”

“I’m not happy.”

“Okay.”

you’re kind of devastated he’s killing people

but you eventually get it

like it takes a while

say a month or so

but you forgive quick

i mean, who knows what those men are doing, right?

(ur delulu but it’s ok)

he lets you have your space but talking with mama rio when she realises your absence knocks some sense into him

mans is going to GROVEL

he will fucking beg on his damn knees

knocks on your door and is already kneeling

will plead with you to come back to him

like i said a whole ass romantic

you know what’s romantic? a man who can get on his knees

he will suffocate you in gifts and affection

oh you like (insert sanrio esc character) ? look over there at that lifesize plushie woahhhh wonder who that’s forrrrrr

“Hello?”

“Mami, don’t close the door.”

“Miles, go home.”

“And please stop kneeling, the floor is dirty.”

“I’m not leaving ‘til you hear me out.”

looooong sigh

“Okay, fine— whatever, come inside. You have two minutes.”

“God, I missed you. You’re so beautiful Chiquita.”

“Three minutes.”

You talk it out easy, he’s a real smooth talker when he wants to be

“Okay Miles, I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?”

“Yeah, Ma. See you soon.”

“Wh—.. What is that?”

“Ohhh…”

“Why the fuck is it so big?”

“It said “Life Size” on the site? I was thinking like two feet tall.”

“You bought that?”

“Yeah.. I was thinkin’ you wouldn’t let me in. Would have to bribe you.”

“…That’s really cute.”

Annnnnd that’s all i can come up with i’ll probably do more later :P

[pygmi-cygni]

STOP DOING THIS IN INJURY FICS!!

Bleeding:

Blood is warm. if blood is cold, you're really fucking feverish or the person is dead. it's only sticky after it coagulates.

It smells! like iron, obv, but very metallic. heavy blood loss has a really potent smell, someone will notice.

Unless in a state of shock or fight-flight mode, a character will know they're bleeding. stop with the 'i didn't even feel it' yeah you did. drowsiness, confusion, pale complexion, nausea, clumsiness, and memory loss are symptoms to include.

blood flow ebbs. sometimes it's really gushin', other times it's a trickle. could be the same wound at different points.

it's slow. use this to your advantage! more sad writer times hehehe.

Stab wounds:

I have been mildly impaled with rebar on an occasion, so let me explain from experience. being stabbed is bizarre af. your body is soft. you can squish it, feel it jiggle when you move. whatever just stabbed you? not jiggly. it feels stiff and numb after the pain fades. often, stab wounds lead to nerve damage. hands, arms, feet, neck, all have more motor nerve clusters than the torso. fingers may go numb or useless if a tendon is nicked.

also, bleeding takes FOREVER to stop, as mentioned above.

if the wound has an exit wound, like a bullet clean through or a spear through the whole limb, DONT REMOVE THE OBJECT. character will die. leave it, bandage around it. could be a good opportunity for some touchy touchy :)

whump writers - good opportunity for caretaker angst and fluff w/ trying to manhandle whumpee into a good position to access both sites

Concussion:

despite the amnesia and confusion, people ain't that articulate. even if they're mumbling about how much they love (person) - if that's ur trope - or a secret, it's gonna make no sense. garbled nonsense, no full sentences, just a coupla words here and there.

if the concussion is mild, they're gonna feel fine. until....bam! out like a light. kinda funny to witness, but also a good time for some caretaking fluff.

Fever:

you die at 106F (40.5C). no 'oh no his fever is 107F!! ahhh!" no his fever is 0F because he's fucking dead. you lose consciousness around 103, sometimes less if it's a child. brain damage occurs at over 104.

ACTUAL SYMPTOMS:

sluggishness

inability to speak clearly

feeling chilly/shivering

nausea

pain

delirium

symptoms increase as fever rises. slow build that secret sickness! feverish people can be irritable, maybe a bit of sass followed by some hurt/comfort. never hurt anybody.

fevers are a big deal! bad shit can happen! milk that till its dry (chill out) and get some good hurt/comfort whumpee shit.

keep writing u sadistic nerds xox love you

also - this post was not an invitation to share a bunch of enormously traumatic stories. stop messaging me things like 'related to ur last post' and then it's a really upsetting recount of an assault you experienced. this is a writing blog, not a medical newsletter. I'm muting the notifs because I don't like seeing it pop up in my feed - if you have a genuine writing question, please dm me, i'd love to hear it. thank you.

[cranberrv]

thunder

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ in which dallas winston loses his temper

( a/n : HIII im sorry if this wasnt ur vision but i dont think dallas is one for big apologies so i kinda focused on the arguement more than the apology hope that’s ok… also toxic dallas alert sorry if that isnt ur scene!! also not proofread but hope u cuties enjoy )

it was a late night in mid-summer, and you and dallas were on the porch on the curtis brothers house. he wanted to go out for a smoke, and dragged you along. you were wearing his leather jacket, it was a windy night and you were getting chilly. dallas had goosebumps along his arms.

“are you sure you don’t want it back, dal?” you ask him, insisting on giving him his jacket back.

“nah, sugar, don’t want ya freezin’ to death out here,” he answers, taking a drag of his cigarette as he looks out at the empty street.

“i’ll just go inside, though, so you don’t get hypothermia or something..” you insist, but he grabs your hand and stops you.

“you’re fine, baby, stay with me.” you look up at him and nod, squeezing his hand a bit tighter.

you stand outside for a little while longer. it feels so peaceful standing there with him. his hand that’s rough and dangerous from the punches it throws is enveloping yours in a sweet gentleness shown only with you. his cigarette smoke becoming a mock mist that calms you both down. his deep breathes that are only heard because of how quiet it is.

nothing could ruin this moment.

you felt it was a good time to say the three words. not like you hadn’t said them before — it’s been a year since you’ve started dating, and you’ve both adored each other from the very start. but dallas got funny when you told him what he already knew. tonight would be different, you thought.

“.. i love ya, dal,” you say softly after a few moments of quiet. it felt casual — exactly what he would have wanted. but maybe not casual enough, because there was a short silence following your words.

eventually, he speaks. “i know ya do, sugar.”

you sigh. why is it that he could never stand to say it back?

he catches your sigh. of course he knows what you’re sighing about — he knows you all too well. he chooses not to act on it, not to apologize, not to say anything. he doesn’t want to fight with you. he just takes a drag of his cigarette and plays innocent.

“it would be nice to know that you loved me too, dallas,” you eventually say.

“oh c’mon,” another drag of his cigarette. “you ain’t an idiot, you know i do.”

“do i? i can’t remember one time you’ve said ‘i love you’ to me,” you cross your arms and look up at him.

“this isn’t somethin’ to get pressed on, y/n, the boys are inside and the windows are open,” he puts a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to stop talking, to pretend like you’re okay. all because he doesn’t want his friends to hear. “and i have said it, baby, you’re just forgetting or somethin’.”

“you have not, i would remember if you have,” you counter, shoving his hand off of you. “i don’t want to argue, dallas, i really don’t—“

“too damn bad, y/n, because you’re sayin’ that i don’t love you, and we both know that ain’t true,”

“then say it.”

“..what?”

“you heard me,” you say. “it has been a whole year of us dating, and you’re never ready to say that you love me,” you raise your voice to get your point across.

“christ, y/n, you’re difficult, huh?” he groans. “it ain’t a big deal, don’t go throwing a tantrum.”

“i’m difficult? dallas, i don’t know if you get how a relationship works, but at this point, you either love me, or you’re done with me. there is no middle ground after this long together.”

“you’re fuckin’ crazy, i know how a relationship works, and i ain’t done with you. don’t go stickin’ words in my mouth,” his voice is raising, too.

“if you’re not done with me, then you love me.” you say, in a desperate attempt to get him to say the three words. you almost want to beg. “it hurts, dallas, that i don’t get that reassurance, that i leave our dates with my words hanging in the air, waiting for a reply,”

he groans. “you know that i do, so what’s the fuckin’ point?”

“you’re unbelievable.”

he scoffs, his voice raising. not quite yelling, but definitely not talking. “holy fuck, you know that i love you, man, so quit bein’ such a bitch!”

the crease in your eyebrow drops as he says that. “don’t call me that,”

“c’mon, man, you’re acting like a fuckin’ lunatic trying to get me to admit somethin’ that i’ve already admitted,” he says, voice still raised. “take a deep breath, maybe get a glass of water, and come back to me once you’re normal again.”

you scoff. “because i’m expressing my feelings, suddenly i’m a lunatic? because i’m not like your old girls, and i actually strive for a healthy relationship, i’m not normal?”

“you’re freakin’ out because i didn’t say it back once, of course i think you’re going crazy.”

“i’m ‘freaking out’ because it’s been a year of ‘thank you’ and ‘i know’ whenever i tell you i love you,”

“you’re being a dumbass, y/n, you know i—“ he cuts himself off, sighing and taking a step back. “fine, man, whatever, you win. go inside and call bucks when you’ve cooled off, i’m goin’ home,”

when he walks past you, the air is thick and unwelcoming. you don’t even bother getting the last word, dreading the fact that he might turn back and lose his shit if you do. he mutters something incoherent under his breath, and walks down the creeky front porch steps, into the dead of night.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

of course, you don’t call bucks. why would you? just so buck can tell you that dallas isn’t there, when in reality he just doesn’t want to talk to you? just so suddenly you’re bending to his will, and he’s getting his way once again? you don’t think so.

dallas does this a lot — whenver you two fight, even if it’s a small one, he needs time to cool off. sometimes it’s a couple hours, sometimes it’s a day. it’s never stretched longer, until now. it’s been three torturous days of waiting for a grand gesture, an apology, anything.

the next day at school, you’re walking through the parking lot during your lunch break, talking to cherry valance and marcia about what happened between you and dallas. they say a lot of “told you so” and “that’s dallas for you”, and you can’t say they’re wrong. they warned you about him, and his reputation for being so short-tempered and stubborn.

the sound of an engine roars behind you, and you and your friends turn your heads to see who is making the noise. it’s a 1957 red thunderbird, you recognize it as buck merrill’s.

“that must be dal’s friend, buck,” you whisper to your friends. “but why would buck be here?”

“he’s a greaser, he’s probably like, 5 grades behind and coming here begging for another shot at graduation,” randy, marcia’s boyfriend, teases. you shoot him a glare, and he shuts up.

“i’ll go see whats up,” you say softly, walking over to the now-parked car.

as you walk over and the window rolls down. it is not buck merrill, like you expected, but it’s dallas winston.

“hi,” you say softly, your walls starting to go up but hesitating, wondering if you’re even still fighting.

“hey, sweetie,” he says, not explaining what he’s doing here.

“what’re doing?” you ask him.

he shrugs. “wanted to see you, i dunno.”

“oh,” you say softly. you hoped for an apology, you hoped for flowers, you hoped for chocolate, you hoped for a hug, you hoped for—

“i shouldn’t of gotten all heated when we talked, it wasn’t cool,” he says, interrupting your thoughts. “and you ain’t a bitch.”

“..thanks.” you say after a few seconds of silence. what a shit apology, you think.

he’s staring out into the parking lot instead of you. “and i’m crazy about you, man,” he looks up at you. “you gotta know that, sugar.”

“thank you,” you repeat again, unsure of what to say.

another beat of silence as he swallows in his throat, before speaking and finally looking over at you. “i love ya, doll,”

you should’ve stayed mad, you should’ve not accepted his awful apology, but you cannot hide the smile tugging at your lips. this is all you’ve asked for from him, and he finally has the courage to admit it.

“i love you too, dallas.” you say softly, leaning into the window and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “thank you,”

“you gotta stop sayin’ that, y/n,” he teases, playfully pushing you away. “go hang out with your stupid friends, man. i’ll come over tonight and hang.”

you nod, and walk away, looking back at him and seeing a small smile on his face. nothing could ruin this moment.

[riaki]

OKAY EVERYONE IS SAYING GOJO DOESN'T DESERVE A HAPPY ENDING YES

BuT what if we could make it a little ANGSTY instead?? 👀 He gets his happy ending. His. Happy ending. You? Well.. Old habits die hard. This is what you wanted after all no? So what if he breaks his promises? What if your smile begins to fade? What if

What you said about later on reader and freckles growing apart cause freckles seemed nice it'd be a shame for him to be an ass

But that it's silly cause the irony is what if that freckle boy.. was just like Gojo but in a different light.

Being as it wasn't him who hurt reader, it was easy to overlook the fact of how similar he was to the old Gojo she knew before it became a shit show

Maybe she realizes that

Maybe she starts thinking

Maybe she drifts apart

And maybe Gojo comforts her but he's the last person she wants to see

Because it's these stupid feelings for Gojo that led her to this hell

And Gojo goes again

And he reels her in

And once he has her

Only to see as her smile begins to fade

As all the effort he had put in when he didn't have her start going away once again

And he starts to fall into old habits becoming the same as he was before, but this time, with you at his hand

As he slowly takes away your smiles again.

But it's okay, he'll make it right. Just...later. and later. And later...

You hope.

sorry I'm not good with angst sorry for any cringe 🤣

this is!! such!!! a good!!!! take!!!!!! on hsbully!gojo!!!!!! tbh this ask speaks for itself lol n dw anon! i rlly love the way u brought it :3 this is highschoolbully!gojo part 592727465527 *suggestive!

yeah. freckles boy isn’t that great of a person. maybe he tried but it didn’t work out; u dunno why but u keep seeing gojo in him— hints of satoru in ur life. like that stinky cologne he thinks is kinda cool but rlly doesn’t smell too good on ur bfs drawer, or the way he takes his coffee. honestly, if u squint, it almost seems like freckle boy is tryna copy gojo in a way…? but u don’t like thinkin abt him so u don’t blink an eye.

fast forward u broke up with freckle boy because something or other; the point is, u really didn’t feel anything with him. there might’ve been a spark, but it was really only artificial and had no wind to fan the flames. and since u got together gojo’s been distant; his smile seems dimmer and there’s always this faraway; foggy look that makes the brilliant azure of his eyes seem cloudy gray. but then ur catching up with him again and at some random frat party you get drunk and ur sense is inhibited and— u end up kissing gojo… oops.

so then u kinda enter this fwb state with him. and.. he’s pretty cool, right? he’s kinda evrything u want in a guy— tall, pretty, cool, strong, handsome, charming— it’s a package deal. but there’s also this… rift, between the two of you. see, ever since gojo lost u the first time, he’s always been so scared of pushing u away. so u stay fwb because he doesn’t wanna lose u again in case he’s feelin more than you are. but his heart doesn’t skip a beat when he sleeps with other girls and his chest doesn’t tighten like it does with u when he gets mouthfuls of fruity gloss from kissing other girls. but he forces himself to keep this wall up between the two of u because he just can’t risk losing you a third time.

it sucks for u too, though! gojo’s just a bit too dense to see it. whether it’s in his own nature, or he’s faking it. it’s probably the latter, but that’d mean he’s not being genuine again, n you don’t wanna think about it. but you’re gettin comfy with him and so is he, and you really do whole heartedly believe he’s changed this time, and for good. and it’s true! he has. but not in the way you thought. apparently, he’s exchanged being an ass with an unreachable ego to a pinch more genuine, but still an ass. it’s proved when u get to his apartment one rainy day ready to spend the weekend w/ him for a study date, but there’s clothes on the floor. dresses n stockings and a frilly blouse that you definitely think (or hope) don’t belong to gojo. unfortunately, your suspicions are confirmed when you lay eyes on the tangle of people on his bedroom through the crack in the door— this time, it’s your turn to run in a hurry. turns out, he got comfortable with you— all in the wrong way, thinking it’d be okay to sleep around. except he gives chase— after pulling on a pair of pants, of course.

eventually he catches up to you; you hate those stupidly long legs. catches your wrist and forces you to face him. in front of a chick fil a, nonetheless. he gets an overwhelming sense of deja vu— but he’s forcibly snapped out of it when je realizes you’re crying. and damn, you look gorgeous, and he wishes it would rain because the sunlight falls around you like liquid gold, framing your pretty face and reflecting prisms of rainbow in your tears.

once again, he doesn’t get it. why are you crying? it’s not like you were really serious or labeled, right…? and the entire reason you’d stayed that way was to avoid somethin like this. but gojo slowly comes to the realization that he’s fucked up big time— he has been since day 1. really, he should’ve found somebody cheaper to chase— you stole his heart and his pride, making him awkwardly and stiffly apologize to you in front of a fast food restaurant on some random crossing next to a train station. it’s only tense because he doesn’t really know how to apologize— he doesn’t have much experience with it, and for that he blames his ego.

but even so, he’s not ready for those big, sappy love confessions yet. you always made him feel so weird— correction: you still do. so you walk away somewhere between fwb and strangers. it’s always one step forward and two steps back with gojo. but maybe, just maybe— he can slowly rebuild your trust with some patience, empathy, and a lot of genuine love that he’s yet to realize he’s been nursing in his heart for you since the first time he laid eyes on you.

paaaaaaart one

[pomefioredove]

omomg i love ur writing!! <33

if this works can i request 3rd years + ruggie epel and silver with a GN reader thats very elegant, like duchess from the aristocats?

if possible i’d like reader to not be yuu 🎀

like the reader is the oldest sibling and has a very gentle and elegant aura, making then very loveable by everyone? reader is very smart, attractive, and especially sweet and gentle.

everyone would first assume that theyre spoiled bc theyre an aristocrat but they shock everyone w their personality

I have been writing nothing but fics for months now,, so I'm taking a break by going through the headcanon requests that were sent when I wasn't writing

summary: elegant reader type of post: headcanons characters: third years + ruggie, epel, silver additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not yuu

Trey is your best friend, your platonic soulmate. he's... wary, at first, not really knowing what to expect from you; but he's also the first to warm up. as the designated Heartslabyul mediator and an eldest sibling himself, you two have a lot to bond over. maybe your refined and elegant tastes influence his baking, even; he definitely spoils you

oddly enough, social butterfly Cater has a hard time approaching you. not because you're popular, not because you're an aristocrat, just because you're so... genuine. it's uncommon for a student of Night Raven to be anything even remotely close to nice or sweet, and it throws him off

but he warms up to you eventually; expect to be all over his Magicam within a few months

...he may or may not still be trying to figure out what you're hiding, though

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona has had enough of the nobility to last him a lifetime. expect an eye-roll or a sharp rebuff any time you try to get close, he's never in the mood to deal with "spoiled, silver-spoon sucking little kids" (in his own words). persistence is key, here; much like a housecat, it takes him a long time to get comfortable with new people

now, Ruggie will never miss a chance to take advantage of your kindness. this doesn't mean that he doesn't like you, he's just a man of opportunity! plus, you're an aristocrat; hence, money! eventually, though, he starts feeling kinda bad for you, and he tries to toughen you up a little so you don't get swindled. results are varied

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

oh, Rook is absolutely smitten with you. your elegance, your gentleness, you are the absolute picture of beauty to him!

he's been keeping a close eye on you since orientation, both to ensure your safety, and just because he likes looking at you. everything you do is so delicate, he would put you on a shelf if he could

...not unlike Leona, Epel avoids you. the very last thing he needs is another pampered, elegant noble breathing down his neck, and... being seen with you would hurt his image

after all, he's already struggling to be taken seriously, so befriending the goody-two-shoes lovable sweetheart of NRC is completely out of the question

it takes him some time, but if you let him feel like he's protecting you (somehow), he'll stick to you like glue

you are just like Neige and Vil dislikes you for it. he knows it's unfair, but he can't force himself to get along with someone that reminds him so much of his worst enemy. so perfect, so sweet, pretty, and loved by everyone...

he's not an animal, though; he's civil when you cross paths. he even lets Rook gush about you. just don't expect him to be as easy to befriend as the others

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia is not a fan.

first of all, you're way out of his league.

second of all... no, actually, that's it.

he knows from the start that someone so lovable and popular wouldn't be caught dead with someone like him, and he leaves it at that. unfortunately for him, you're also the curious type, and are drawn to him like a moth to a flame. your patience has no end, and eventually, you wear him down. now he can speak to you in full sentences!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Silver likes you, perhaps more than anyone else, though he doesn't really show it. he's not so great at expressing himself in words, but you can be sure he'll be there if you need something. he's nothing if not loyal, after all

you are so nice to Malleus and he likes it so much :) he's not used to anyone being so gentle with him, and it's a feeling he could easily get addicted to

he maaaay be a little overprotective and wary about your interactions with the other students, but he trusts you, too. just as long as you stay your sweet and endearing self, he's happy

Lilia thinks you're just great. it's not easy staying so kind in a place like this, but he always sees you with a smile on your face and a spring in your step... albeit, a more dignified and elegant one

[leonw4nter]

I really like ur fics with Leon as a dad 🤍 can I request one where it’s angst at the start but happy at the end? I think with Leon’s job he’s probably alway moving to new places and his wife is kinda at the point where she just can’t take it and worried for their kid?

My Baby Here On Earth Showed Me What My Heart Was Worth

Husband!RE:Damnation!Leon x F!Reader

“The kids are sleeping now,” you quietly tell your husband as you get into bed with him.

He hums a response, setting aside a copy of William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury as he gets up. To go look at the kids one more time for the night, he says as he walks around the foot of the bed and towards the door. You wait until Leon noiselessly closes the door, his footsteps growing fainter as he grows more distanced from you, to sigh deeply, sitting up to lean against the cold headboard as you bury your face in your hands for a moment. You love Leon and you know that he loves you and your kids too but he’s grown increasingly distant with each passing day after coming home from deployment to the Eastern Slav Republic. You’ve done your best to show that you’re there for him, initiating conversations and even giving him simple compliments but the most he’s done is look in your direction and nod. A hum and a forced smile, if you’re lucky and he’s feeling less bad about himself. He still took care of the kids, driving them to school and playing with them in the afternoons but it’s clear that his mind is far from home. Even the kids could sense just how weary their father is, doing their best to cheer him up by giving him colorful drawings and letters. “Don’t be sad, daddy! Me, Ollie, and mama are here for yuo!” one of them reads, the word ‘you’ misspelled but Leon loved it nonetheless. For a quick moment he genuinely smiled whenever he read the letters and saw the drawings again before the frown took its place in his face again as he put the artwork in a folder and placed it back in the drawer cabinet.

You lifted your head from your hands when Leon walked back in, silent as always as he headed back to his side of the bed. You stared at him, urging him to say something–anything, just to dissolve the wall that he put up around himself but to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t speak. He checks the time on his phone and decides that it’s far too late to continue reading his book and sinks down beneath the covers, muttering a nearly inaudible ‘goodnight’ to you before he closes his eyes and drifts to sleep. Hurt, you scoff at how distant he feels. Physically, he’s home and with you but you know that emotionally and mentally, he’s still on the other side of the world and dealing with Tyrants, Lickers, and corrupt leaders. Turning the lamp off, you sink into the sheets as well and turn to face the wall. You have so much to say, so much to express to him but you’re afraid that this will only push him further from you even more. Worst case scenario, he packs his bags and sleeps in a hotel for a week before coming home plastered. He’s never done that before but you don’t want this rift to widen to the point he even considers doing that, maybe even leave behind the family he has with you for the enigmatic woman in red. Inhaling deeply, you shut your eyes before you speak to him. You don’t even think deeply about what you’re doing before your fears get to you and force you to shut up again.

“I can’t keep doing this, Leon.” You shakily begin. “We can’t keep doing this. I’m here for you, so are the kids, but you’re pushing us all away.”

“I need space.” He responds. Short and curt, straight to the point but you wish he said more.

“What does ‘space’ mean to you, Leon?” you gently ask as you sit up and face him who is still curled up on his side, his face hidden away like a secret. “I just want to know what I can do to support you while also giving you some time alone.”

“Leave me alone. There. That’s the kind of space I want,” he grumbles as he sits up, facing you. You stay silent for a moment, your sympathetic gaze on him but his eyes are elsewhere as he runs a hand through his dark hair, not wanting to see the look on your face.

“Okay. But let’s still talk, okay? Let’s voice out how we feel and communicate, I want to be able to provide you with what you need–”

“Why are you doing this?” Leon interrupts, not out of irritation but rather out of wonder. Your eyes widen for a quick moment before you inch a little near him, hesitant to reach out and place your hand on his hand.

“Because I care for you, Leon, and I don’t want to see you suffer alone. I want to be here for you and share the weight of the world on your shoulders too. You don’t have to keep it all to yourself, I can see it eating away at you.”

He doesn’t stop you when you take his hand, feeling the scars and calluses on them. He quite misses your touch, actually, but he felt like he was throwing himself a pity party whenever he thought about asking you for a hug or a kiss.

“I don’t want to bring home anything from work,” he explains. “I don’t plan on mixing it– work and home life… and I didn’t expect for it to get to this. That I’m pushing you and the kids away. I don’t… I don’t want my family to even think about how the monsters I’ve killed looked like or how I killed them. Something as precious as you three don’t deserve that. Our little ones, most of all.”

Pulling him in for the first hug in nearly two weeks, after two weeks of Leon trying to avoid your physical display of affection, he gives in. He leans his forehead on your shoulder but doesn’t wrap his arms around you and instead, lies limply on his side.

“Oh Leon,” you delicately whisper. Sushing and humming the same tune you used to hum when your toddlers were still tiny babies, you tenderly sway Leon from side to side in order to ease all the anguish he bottled up and refused to share. It doesn’t take long for his tears to wet your shoulder, his large frame shaken with stifled sobs. He went by “Condor One”, “Agent Kennedy”, and many other aliases required by his job but at the end of the day, he is your Leon Scott Kennedy. “Daddy”, as his dear children would call him.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Leon slept in your arms, his head buried in your side with an arm slung around your stomach, for the first time in the longest time. He still shook and spoke in his sleep, flinching at times, but his sleep appeared to be much more restful. It was your turn to be unable to fall asleep now, a hand gently patting Leon’s shoulder blade with a watchful eye observing him. You were tired from the entire day and the crying you did with him hours ago but you couldn’t find it in you to doze off; you thought about your kids’ future and raising them, along with considering the fact that Leon was rarely home for a long time and was always moving to new places for indefinite periods. Each mission brought the fear that this would be the last time you’d see Leon alive, to be talking to you in person and that what would come home to you are two agents holding a folded flag, an urn, and what remained of his gear instead. It would be cruel for Leon, who proudly proclaims that his life has only begun when he met you. Leon, who knew what it meant to truly live when he found out that you were pregnant with his children. You knew that it also hurt Leon to leave at ungodly hours of the night when he was going to be deployed for a mission and to think that his kids would wonder where their daddy is and why he’s always gone. You’re used to Leon’s constant absence but it doesn’t hurt any less each time he has to go. His job is bad for your heart, constantly putting it in a state of worry and fear. It always stung whenever your kids asked if they could go with Leon when he had to leave on an “adventure” because they wanted to spend more time with him. You hated breaking the news to Leon that he’d have to miss out on another one of their school events, having to phone Chris or Patrick to attend in his place; he sounded so pained whenever he asked about the details of the event, his dreams of walking up the stage and being active in his childrens’ schooling playing in his head every time he closed his eyes for a quick nap before being back on his feet and killing monsters. Ultimately, you decided to give the kids a day trip with Leon since their only trip with Leon was when they were still babies. Sighing once more before giving sleep another try, you start to mentally compile all the things needed for tomorrow’s road trip.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“She’s already got a stain on his shirt and the ice cream hasn’t even melted yet,” Leon says with an amused grin as he tries to wipe the chocolate off of Euphemia’s pink shirt with a wet wipe. You’re preoccupied with watching over the other twin Ollie, who’s trying to call a stray cat and give the kitty a lick of his vanilla ice cream. You look back at Leon, who’s giving his daughter kisses as he got the stain to look a lot less dark than it was earlier.

“Pheme still tends to get ice cream everywhere,” you softly tell him as you offer another set of wipes, to which he declines since the stain isn’t obvious and the wipes could be used for later. Leon smiles when he notices you use the nickname he gave to Euphemia; he’s managed to get you to use this one instead of his other loving nickname for Oliver, “Rolliver Polliver”, derived from when Ollie almost ate a roly poly bug.

All of you finish eating ice cream without getting any more stains or a cat being fed something it shouldn’t be fed and get back to the car, hitting the road once more. Queen, Hall & Oates, Elton John, and The Flamingos have been traded for nursery rhymes and songs to induce sleep in toddlers in order to get them to nap a little bit. Instead of Leon sitting in the passenger seat with you, he decided to sit at the back in between the kids in order to spend some time being near them on the road trip. The twins seemed to have gotten their habit of sleeping with their head leaned back and mouth slightly ajar while softly snoring from Leon, who is also asleep with his hands on their child car seat. Caught in a red light, you quietly observe this tender moment in the front and snap a few pictures of them with your digital camera from 1989 that still surprisingly works well. You giggle at the sight behind you, heart melting at seeing your husband and children look so adorable. His jacket is on your lap when you told him that you were feeling a little chilly, insisting that he’s fine in the back without one. Just earlier, he was making funny faces and holding a serious, one-sided conversation with his little ones, making them laugh and giggle at his every word and now they’re all asleep together. If it means having more moments like this, you’re ready to fight the D.S.O. for keeping your husband occupied on the other side of the world. You guess that it’s also moments like these that Leon continues to fight bioterrorism so that other families can safely enjoy moments like this one without worrying about monsters coming to harm their loved ones. Since the red light is still going and you seem to have been caught in a moderate traffic, you take out your video cam and film the soft scene behind you. “Papa and the kiddos are sleeping together, their snoring isn’t in sync so there’s no moment of silence for me but I don’t mind. I love you all so much and momma is very happy right now.”

After nearly four hours of driving, you four finally get to the cliff overlooking the great wide sea. Parking your car to a safe place, you take out the picnic basket and start preparing your spot. You two chose a spot underneath the shade of a thick tuliptree, a cover from the hot sun. The kids have been asking so much about finally being able to play soccer and ‘helicopter’, a game where Pheme and Ollie hang from Leon’s arms as he spins around (the twins have promised to never, ever play ‘helicopter’ again because they got dizzy but they seem to have ‘forgotten’ it this time) and you explained that they can play an hour after having the picnic and when the sun isn’t so hot anymore. Leon agrees and although the twins don’t seem too happy, they don’t appear to mind it that much since they’re eager to help Leon in unloading the car (he gave them the lighter tasks). As soon as the food is set and most of the bugs have been successfully warded off, the twins gather to sit beside you but before everyone can take a bite of the sandwiches, Leon gets up and takes the digital camera and snaps a couple of pictures, even attempting a selfie at one point. Soon, everyone digs into their sandwiches and stuffs their faces full of the snacks you and Leon prepared together in the morning.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After what felt like the nth picture Leon has taken of you and the twins, he finally puts the camera down and puts it back in its case but picks up the video cam instead. The twins groan, urging their dad for more playtime even if they’re drenched in sweat with dirty knees.

“5 minutes,” Leon says as he starts recording. “Papa’s back hurts. Why don’t you ask mama?”

“Mama already played! She can’t carry us and she says she’s also tired! She’s reading now!” Pheme exclaims.

He points the camera towards you, reading a pocketbook in the picnic basket while dabbing your forehead and neck with a towel. He laughs and calls you, causing you to look up from the book you were engrossed with and blow him a kiss. He laughs one more time, ‘catching’ the kiss and placing it inside his shorts pocket which gets a giggle out of you.

“My beautiful wife is uhh sitting there, she’s reading.” He narrates as he zooms in. “Very beautiful, the sunlight is hitting her just right. Gosh, she makes me nervous and she doesn’t even know. Love her very much.”

He zooms out and zooms into his children, who decide to take interest in the rocks and starts flinging them towards the cliff with the intention to try to fling it to the ocean, which is quite far from where they are.

“Hey kiddos,” he says as he walks up to them and pats them with his free hand. “What’re you doin’?”

“We’re trying to throw rocks into the ocean!” Ollie and Pheme cheerfully explain, showing their rocks to the lens before flinging it with all their tiny might.

“Ooh, that’s quite far honey,” Leon comments. “Want me to try?”

The twins cheer and he takes that as an opportunity to throw one, the recording being temporarily shaky.

“Woah! You threw it far, papa!” The twins say and clap, determined to throw it as far as he did. He helps the twins throw it, focused on teaching them how to aim and the force they need to exert to fling it a little farther.

After several minutes of flinging rocks and random conversations with your husband and your kids, you call them over to look at the pictures Leon has taken. Everyone gathers around you as you look at each one, oohing and aahing at Leon’s photography skills. Leon focuses the cam on the pictures popping up in the digital camera, chipping in with his thoughts.

“Mommy looks amazing there,” he breathily says. “Divine. What’d you think, Pheme?”

“So pretty!” She beams before giving you a big kiss on the cheek. Ollie giggles and snuggles closer to you, occasionally pointing to the pictures.

Like you guessed, most of the pictures are of you, the kids, or both. Observant like their dad, they picked up on this as well.

“Pa, you’re not in a lot of the photos! It’s always us or mama!”

Leon chuckled, ruffling his kids’ heads. He extends a pointer finger to a shadow in the image before you switch to another one, pointing to the tall shadow once again.

“That’s me,” Leon explains. “I’m the shadow.”

His twins seem confused, falling into silence along with you, who is also intrigued by Leon’s words.

“When you look at these pictures when you’re bigger, I want you all to know that I’m always here. These are proofs that I’m with you because I’m the shadow and I’ll always look out for all three of you,” he explains

The twins say ‘aww’ at the same time and tackle his legs, hugging him tight. While you set the camera down and look at Leon with a small pout and slightly glossy eyes. Leon chuckles softly and places a free hand on your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek before you join your twins in giving him a big bear hug as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I love you, Leon.” You softly tell him, warm breath fanning against his neck.

“Me too, sweetheart. I love you more.” He tenderly responds as he hugs you and the kids back.

He’s thankful that this tender moment is caught on camera so he can rewatch it several more times before he goes to bed.

NOTE - I hope you liked this fic anon!!! At first, I wasn't super confident about writing this or how it'll turn out but I think it turned out nicely ngl :) YALL. I finally got my driver's license. I can drive. Do I know how to? I know the theoretical aspects of it but driving itself? Running a motor vehicle? I have yet to learn (it's on June 20-21 and my dad will teach me until I get better)... I also scarfed down a big spicy bowl of ramen coz I didn't have breakfast this morning <3 Also, It's not rlly embarrassing for me to be writing fics while my parents r sitting at the back (I'm at my living room) but making the border??? Looking for pics of Leon??? It's embarassing for me 😭😭 My dad said that my Chris capcorom looks like a Bánh bò and ngl I kinda see it 😭😭 There's a Japanese mall where I live and I'll be going there tomorrow so hopefully yk there's a copy of any RE book or manga (PLEASEPLEASEPLE) Anyways, that's it and thank you for readings my fics!!!!!! I <33333 UUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The wavy divider was made by @kaitsawamura , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[suiana]

yo i saw ur rb && feel free to write about the renting concept!!! if u do pls tag me i’d love to see <33 😋

😻😻 rhanks genie

(yandere! rental boyfriend x gn! reader) (shitpost kinda) (concept based on this post)

you know, it's not like you were ugly, dumb or poor. in fact, you consider yourself rather attractive, smart and quite rich. but it seems that no one has noticed that which... might've been why you were single for a very long period of time.

very meaning from when you were born up until recently.

you had always desired for a relationship. wanting to experience the joys of love, the romance, the contentment you get whenever you're with that special someone.

unfortunately you never got to experience that. never. even after putting down your dignity and renting a boyfriend.

you had rented a rather pretty looking guy from this... dodgy website called 'rent-a-darling'? was that the name? it probably is. what a weird website it's called. anyways, it was basically a rental boyfriend/girlfriend website and you had absolutely struck gold with it.

perfect face, perfect body, incredibly intelligent... he was basically a work of art. and his personality wasn't half that bad either! he cracked jokes and they were entertaining enough! he made you laugh, feel better about your miserable love life...

but he just wasn't it.

so you decided to end contact with him. there was no point in continuing that rental service anyways. it's not like he'd like you back even if you fell for him.

except that was exactly what happened?? a few days after you officially ended your contact with your absolute god of a rental boyfriend, he showed up at your doorstep, panting as a lovesick look paints his beautiful features.

you were concerned to say the least. after all, you had never seen him act in such a way before. which was why you allowed him in... which led you to your current situation which was far from ideal.

"could you let me go please? my arms are sore..."

"you know, you're really cute like this."

you merely sigh in response, looking away as you grow awkward under his obsessed gaze. this has been the fifth day since he tied you up, only allowing you to leave the bed for meals and the toilet.

and in those five days he's openly admitted to be in love with you.

while it was nice and endearing to hear such words, you only wish it was from someone you actually loved back. and maybe not as crazy as this guy was.

"can you please let me go? do you want money or something? i can give it to you-"

"what i want is your love, and that cannot be bought with money."

he interjects promptly, still smiling at you with his pearly white teeth which were honestly starting to creep you out. why were they so white? why was he so objectively perfect? and why was he madly obsessed with you?

"hey can i just ask something? why are you so obsessed? like just why."

he pauses for a second, hummung contently as he shuts his eyes for a bit.

"I'm not sure why,"

his eyes open again and he continues his sentence. this time, you can't help but feel an impending sense of dread in your gut when he speaks.

"i guess i just really adore you."

he then giggles oddly, tugging at your bedsheets as his face nears yours.

"you complete me, my love."

you grimace as his face nears yours. ugh, what you wanted was that lovey dovey shit you saw on television. not whatever this was. kidnapping and constant moans of how your captor loves you.

but oh well, it is a relationship. just not the one you wanted. maybe you could learn to deal with it-

"darling! if you tell me how much you love me, block everyone else you know, leave your job, and promise to run away with me, I'll untie you! how about it?"

...yeah, you're not dealing with this. perhaps you're just not meant for love.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

MY DEAREST MIRA HAPPY 1K 💯🤍 wowow your blog grew sm so quick i literally blinked and boom ur at 1k !?!?!!? congratulations i have and always will be in love with your writing i seriously need to catch up on ur works eheh..

i know the bare minimum about pokemon but google was indeed my friend so… may i request a team consisting of kaiser and arctibax (dragon + ice) 🫡 you know me and angst, plus the fact that i’ve been wanting to read fantasy as of late 🙂‍↕️

── SWORD OF THE SAINT

Synopsis: Shortly after the death of your mother, you meet a mysterious man in your family’s chapel, and as the days grow colder, you find that he is the closest thing to a savior you might ever know.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Kaiser x Reader

Word Count: 18.1k

Content Warnings: pseudo-christianity written by someone who is NOT christian, fantasy au with nonexistent worldbuilding #deal with it, death, angst, no happy ending, sickness, killing, reader is kinda delicate but it IS for a reason beyond just “omg women weak” HAHA, kaiser is an angel, kaiser is also kind of a jerk, kaiser is probably ooc idfk at this point, kaiser pisses me off, i don’t like kaiser, this is based on an actual myth but in the way pjo is based on greek mythology (so basically not at all)

A/N: ANGELLLL HI MY DEAR!! omg hehe i know i feel like i was just at 500 it’s crazy that i already managed to hit 1k 😩 you were an og though fr my seventh follower or smth like that LMAOAO we’ve been through it all together!! anyways sorry this actually rlly sucks but uh…kaiser’s in it ig…and it’s a fantasy au…and it’s kinda sad…and it has an angel…because you’re an angel…😭

The winter before the plague broke out, the river spilled over its banks, stealing your stores of grain and leaving serpents to litter your streets. They were vipers of the diamond-scaled variety, with blue tongues and slit eyes and thin teeth, white with venom and red at the tips. Their killing was random and indiscriminate — the trails of blood they left behind them dried on the cobblestones, and no one dared to wash the dark smears away for fear of their retribution, for fear that they would be the next victim.

It was an omen, that much was clear, though no matter how many stars the king turned to, he could never quite understand what it portended. Anyways, before he could divine the significance, the snakes vanished, leaving the city devoid of life, bar the bronze-footed horses and those individuals who had had the sense to remain inside and away from the dark-mouthed beasts.

The harshness of the winter never abated any; you were never given anything resembling reprieve from terrors after terrors, which came in quick succession. The departure of the serpents was followed by a fortnight of storms, raging winds lashing at your tightly-shuttered windows, shards of ice like daggers driving from the sky into the hard, barren ground, and after the storms there was, for a brief week, a time of eerie stillness where nothing grew nor prospered. 

That week, your every word turned to fog in the air — at least, when you deigned to speak, which was rare — and even the ermine-trimmed cloak your youngest uncle had gifted you two birthdays ago did little to ward away the cold. Your mother, who was of a delicate constitution, shivered near-constantly, wasting away by the fire which burned at all hours with a forlorn expression on her wan face.

It grew warm again, in time, but your mother’s trembling never did cease. You added your cloak to the pile of furs she was buried in, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing could seem to warm her, to breathe life into the husk of a being that she had become — she was hollow like a rattling cicada shell, her cheeks sunken and her eyes blank. 

Right about when your father was at his wits’ end, there was news of the first death: a peasant, one of the farmers in the king’s employ, who had grown unbearably cold and subsequently wilted into a corpse, spending his last few days alive in the same manner a skeleton might.

Your father, the eldest of the king’s younger brothers, had enough power still that he could command every physician in the kingdom to search for a cure. It was obvious that this was the affliction poisoning your mother, who grew worse and worse daily anew. Yet no matter how hard they searched, they could not find any herb nor method of soothing her.

In the meantime, the black-cloaked disease visited homes with even less discernment than the vipers had. There was nary a family who did not have at least one member with the sickness; eventually, the physicians came before your father and the elder of your uncles, the king himself, bowing their cowardly necks and saying there was nothing to be done about it. It was doom. Anyone who had the illness would surely die, and the best thing that could be done for your mother now was to leave her be so that you, too, did not fall victim to her plight.

You stood abruptly at the announcement, which ordinarily would have earned you glares from the surrounding noblemen but today only entitled you to their pity. Gathering your skirts in one hand, you ran towards your mother’s quarters as fast as you could, ignoring your father’s shouts for the guards to stop you.

She was where she always was, and even the slamming of the door did not cause her to flinch. The firelight reflected in her eyes, which shone like mirrors, and when you knelt by the armchair she rarely moved from, she exhaled slightly.

“Mother,” you whispered, drawing her hand out of the blankets and holding it to your cheek. It was bony and thin; already, she was more skeleton than woman, but something in her must’ve prevailed, must’ve rallied and clung to existence, for her heart still beat in her chest, however shallowly. “Mother, don’t — please don’t —”

She sighed softly. You wondered if she could even hear you, or if she was too fascinated with something beyond your vision to know that you were there. You clutched her hand tighter, her knuckles digging into your palm, her fingers like snow on your face.

“Y/N!” It was your father, bursting into the room, guards flanking him as they raced towards you. You pressed closer to your mother’s chair, gazing up at her. To your surprise, her eyes had widened, reflecting a radiance that made even the hearth seem pale. Her lips, once lush and painted, now dry and cracked from dehydration, parted in wonder, and then for the first time since she had grown sick, she spoke.

“Michael,” she breathed out.

“Michael?” you repeated. Even your father paused, tremulous hope brimming in his irises as your mother smiled slightly. Her hand on your face balled into a fist against the bone of your jaw, and then abruptly it loosened. “Mother? Mother, what do you mean, Michael?”

She laughed. It was a wheezing sound, brittle and reedy, breaking off at the end into something painful. For the first time, she tilted her head towards you, and it was as if she were met with a stranger, though eventually recognition did flash across her face.

“Ah, daughter,” she said, her voice hoarse as she smoothed her hand over your hair. “He is here. Right in front of you. Don’t you see him? He is so beautiful. As beautiful as the paintings.”

“There is no one,” you said, your throat thick with tears, your voice barely able to escape it. “No one is here but us.”

The soft motions of her fingers stilled, and she settled back in her chair, suddenly content. You gripped her wrist, willing her to come back, but she was no longer awake, her eyelids sealed shut, a faint smile still lingering on her face.

“You shouldn’t be here,” your father said gruffly, as if waking from a dream. Before you knew it, one of the guards, a handsome boy with hair like marigolds and eyes like autumn, was lifting you from the ground, carrying you out of the room despite your half-hearted protests and depositing you on the ground in the corridor with a bow.

“My father is still in there. You ought to retrieve him, as well,” you said. The guard looked towards the door and shook his head.

“If your father wishes to stay, then it is not my place to stop him,” he said.

“I see,” you said, for there was no point in further argument. Leaning against the stone wall, you wrapped your arms around your torso; compared to the sweltering heart of your mother’s chambers, the corridor was all but frigid. “Do you think this plague is some sort of a punishment?”

“For what, your highness?” the guard said. He was humoring you only because your father, to whom he was sworn, remained in the room even now, so you only shrugged.

“I’m not sure,” you said. “Perhaps the people have committed some wrong, or perhaps it was my uncle, his majesty the king.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “I am not so well-versed in the matters of theology.”

“Only of the sword, I’d reckon,” you said. 

“That’s right,” he said.

“My mother mentioned Michael,” you said. “Right before you dragged me out.”

“My apologies for that, your highness, but it was your father’s command,” he said.

“It’s alright,” you said, finding some diversion in the conversation, which at any rate was a welcome distraction. “I do not blame you. Do you know who Michael is?”

“Doesn’t everybody?” he said. “Though I suppose you might know more than I do.”

“Likely it is the case,” you agreed. “He’s the emperor of angels, or so they claim. Perhaps we are biased because he is our kingdom’s guardian; well, anyways, according to the stories and the songs, he is the one who enacts divine will unto us. Supposedly he amongst his peers is the most merciful by far, but there are as many or more poems of his rage as there are of his kindness, so who can say?”

“I didn’t know the last part,” the guard said. You patted his armored shoulder, motioning for him to follow you — he did so hesitantly, with a backwards glance at his broad-backed counterpart, who stayed behind to watch over your still-absent father.

“It’s true, though I doubt rage and kindness are things he can really understand,” you said, weaving through the hallways of the palace until you reached a familiar wooden door. 

“What does that mean?” the guard said.

“It’s a personal theory,” you said. “But how can we expect angels to understand the turmoils of humanity when they are so removed from it?”

“I confess I’m lost, your highness,” he said, ducking his head. “I shall continue to pursue the ways of the sword and leave such philosophical questions to you and your ilk.”

“Maybe it is for the best,” you said. “I don’t know that my uncle would be so pleased to learn I am becoming a preacher to the common folk. It’s not the kind of role best-suited to a princess.”

“Certainly not,” the guard said.

“Have you ever been here?” you said as you strode past the tapestry-lined walls of the gallery without pause. The guard shook his head.

“I’ve never had cause to,” he said. Arriving upon the painting you wished to show him, you stopped abruptly, pointing at the gilt-framed portrait, reveling in the shock which twisted his features. 

“It’s him,” you said. “The one my mother spoke of. Naturally, the painter has been lost to time, but the subject can never be forgotten.”

The background was plain — a muddy field, gray clouds brewing on the horizon and threatening rain, sunlight breaking through in a halo over his brow. He was tall and regal, a sword in his right hand, pointed at the neck of the viper upon which his left foot was planted. Gold hair cascaded down his shoulders, the shade of the sun at midday, and in his right hand was a rose, the same impossible color of blue as his eyes. The vines of it crept up his arm and curled around his neck, and from his back sprouted a pair of wings, the feathers silver-brown like an eagle’s, unfurled like banners in the air behind him.

“Michael,” the guard said.

“Yes,” you said. “He reveals himself to us very rarely, and only if there is some message which he wishes to impart. I wonder…I wonder what it means that he appeared to my mother.”

“He’s a healer, isn’t he?” he said. “Perhaps with this blessing, she will be the first to recover from this plague.”

“Perhaps,” you said quietly. “Well, I suppose I ought to return to the court and apologize for my misconduct.”

“Nobody blames you, your highness,” he said. “Nor do they think poorly of the reaction.”

“Regardless, it was unruly and childish,” you said. “I do not wish for my father to fall from my uncle’s favor because of my behavior. It’ll be better if I show that I am remorseful. Come, then, let us go. Unless my father has banned that as well?”

“He has made no such demands,” the guard. “After you, your highness.”

“Very well,” you said, and with one final glance at the painting of the severe angel, you led the guard out of the gallery, back towards the throne room you had fled from earlier.

Your father spent the night in your mother’s chambers, though his advisors begged him not to; perhaps it was a form of precognition or intuition, for he ignored their advice and lay at her feet until the next morning, whereupon he exited the room and informed you all, his countenance faded and dull and lifeless, that she was dead.

The carriage ride to your family’s summer estate was silent and awkward. As soon as your mother had been buried in the royal cemetery, your father had insisted you escape to your riverside manor, which had remained mercifully untouched from the winter’s floods. And so, although it was still barely spring and more people fell to the plague by the day, you packed your things and took leave from the castle, at nighttime when there would be no one to see you go. So quickly was it all done that the earth over your mother’s grave was still freshly turned, and you didn’t even have the time to wish her farewell before your father was ushering you into the carriage and whispering to the coachman to hasten his preparations.

“It will be better for us,” your father said again and again. It was such a hollow refrain that he kept repeating, clinging to it like it was sanity, but it didn’t become any more believable the more times he said it.

Yet regardless, you responded with the same thing every time: “Yes, father.”

“Perhaps this plague is a curse on the castle, in which case we are justified in fleeing,” your father said. “And I have already told my brother.”

You pulled your cloak tighter around you to ward away the nip of the nighttime air. “Yes, father.”

“Besides, who can blame us? Not when — not when your mother—” he broke off.

“Yes,” you said miserably. “Father.”

He might’ve ordinarily snapped at you, but today he only sighed and nodded slightly. You supposed you should’ve been grateful that he had enough of a handle on his grief that he could refrain from spitting poison at you, but gratitude was one emotion you could not bring yourself to muster just then, so all you could give him was an exhausted upturn of your mouth which resembled a smile in its barest form.

In the sprawling grounds of the summer estate, it was easy to pretend that nothing wrong had ever happened. There was no sign of serpents amongst the prickly evergreens, for the needly undergrowth was hostile to their pale, soft bellies, and so few servants remained there year round that, of their small number, the majority weren’t even aware a plague had broken out in the first place.

“It will be better for us,” your father said again, this time with finality, helping you down from the carriage and brushing himself off. “This was the right decision.”

You wanted to tell him that there was no world in which you earnestly agreed with that, because you had left your mother behind, and how could that be right? Yet he was so determined that you did not have the heart to, so you only exhaled and shuffled after him, the thought of staying outside for even another moment all but unbearable.

There was much less to do in the lonely manor, where you sat by yourself at all hours of the day, so eventually, despite your reluctance, your thoughts turned to the last time you had seen your mother, replaying that final conversation over and over in your mind until it was all you could see.

On the third day of this self-imposed torture, you dragged yourself out of your bed, trudging to the chapel which your father had commissioned — not for himself, for he was never religious, but for your mother, who often found solace in the marble of its walls and the gold of its altar.

The door, heavy and wooden and large enough to admit a pair of horses at once, opened with a groan and a plume of dust, revealing the inside of the chapel, which was as ornate as you remembered. Your father had spared no expense in its construction, and the floors and walls alike were covered in intricate, patterned mosaic, the high windows rimmed with marble and the ceiling painted with delicate, jewel-colored pigment.

In the middle of the room was a figure, and at first you thought he must be a statue, but then he moved slightly to face you and you realized he was a man; at least, if one could consider someone like that a man, for he bore all the resemblance to the cheerful guards of the palace that a dove did to a common sparrow. His hair was choppy and short and gold, though the ends faded into a blue shade as they trailed down his back, and his bright eyes were lined with something the color of blood that only threw the azure of his irises into greater relief. There was a sort of perfection to the slope of his nose and the curve of his neck, his shoulders held straight and true, his chin high and proud — strangest of all, however, stranger than any of these things by far, was that there was a rusted sword clenched in his fist, the sheath of which sat empty on his hip.

You were quite certain that he did not belong there, but you did not have the wherewithal to question him, so you only shut the door behind you and sat in the entrance, leaning against the walnut frame and closing your eyes, clasping your hands together in front of you and wishing you had something to pray for.

“What have you come here in search of?”

The voice was unfamiliar and keen, like a dagger in your heart or a fang in your calf. You knew without knowing that it must be the man speaking; opening your eyes, you were unsurprised to find him peering at you with no small amount of disdain.

“Whatever do you mean?” you said. He stared at you with a discomfiting intensity, his fingers playing with the hilt of his sword, his eyes wide and endless like the sky, his brows furrowed.

“People don’t come here unless they want something,” he said. “So what is it that you pray for?”

“The things I want are impossible to obtain, so I do not pray for them at all,” you said. 

“Hardly anything is impossible. What a limiting way to think,” he said. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“At least it is not an arrogant one,” you said. “Unless you believe that resurrecting my mother is truly something which can be done?”

“Arrogant?” the man said. “Certainly, your mother could be brought back, so for you to accuse me of arrogance is unfounded. The question is whether she should be revived.”

“What a pointless differentiation,” you said. “I doubt you believe she should be.”

“No, of course not,” he said. “Though I don’t believe anyone should, so you ought not to take it personally.”

You swallowed, hugging your knees to your chest, resting your chin atop them and averting your eyes from the strange man. Likely you should’ve felt angry at his callousness, but in the moment, the only feeling you could summon was resignation.

“Perhaps that is the truth,” you said. “Then it is the same regardless. She won’t ever come back. This is her chapel, you know. I thought I might find some reprieve by encasing myself in this place, but I suppose it isn’t so. There is no reprieve. I think of her always.”

The man made no move to offer you any words of reassurance, nor did he drop his sword. He just stood there and watched you with the sort of wary caginess that one might expect from a half-tamed animal, shifting and unsettled and pacing. You found it almost comforting that he did not offer you any platitudes nor condolences, for you had heard enough of those that you were sick of them.

“Who are you, anyways?” you said. “A servant? I don’t recognize you, but then it has been some time since I last came to this estate, so it isn’t a surprise.”

“I am something along those lines,” he said. 

“And what business do you have in this chapel?” you said. “As far as I know, only members of my family are permitted entry.”

“Nobody has ever stopped me,” he said. “So why shouldn’t I be allowed? Do you mean to cast me from here?”

He was already shifting from foot to foot, as if he expected you to strike him or throw him from the chapel; it wasn’t an incorrect sentiment, exactly, for certainly if you were your father you would’ve, especially for his earlier impudence. What cause did a mere servant have to talk to the king’s family in such a way? But you could not summon that same indignation, so you only shook your head, standing on legs which had grown sleepy and electric from inactivity.

“No, I have no great desire to,” you said. “If you do not disturb me, then I won’t disturb you. Might we coexist in that manner?”

His eyebrows raised almost involuntarily, and then he shrugged. It was an odd way of doing it, though you couldn’t exactly point out what was odd about it, and then he tapped his sword against his leg.

“I suppose it isn’t a tall order,” he said.

“You should leave your sword at the door, however,” you said. “Aren’t weapons forbidden in places like this?”

“It stays,” he said with finality. You peered at it; it was a comely instrument despite its age, the hilt gold and embellished with roses, dark corrosion creeping up the blue-white blade like vines, the tip as sharp as a thorn. His fingers were wrapped around it like a vice, and you tilted your head when you realized that there was something black drawn on his hand, resembling an emperor’s crown, though you were too far to ascertain if that was what it truly was.

“As you wish,” you said. “It’s not me who you’ll have to answer to, anyways. At least I tried.”

“Your efforts will be appreciated by someone or another, I’m sure,” he said.

“I’m sure they will be,” you said with a scoff. “Ah, wait, sir. Before you leave — can I ask for your name?”

“My name? Why, so you may curse it?” he said.

“So that I may call you by it,” you said. “If we happen to meet again, here or elsewhere.”

“Is it important to you?” he said.

“It’s a courtesy,” you said.

“Since when has the king’s family ever known courtesy?” he said. You thought he might shirk away after the brazen statement, but he only gazed at you levelly, as if challenging you to respond.

“We are trained in it from birth, and must practice it from then on,” you said.

“Courtesy and etiquette are not the same thing,” he shot back.

“Will you tell me your name or not? This exchange is tiresome,” you said. “I shall assign you a name of my own if you do not give it. I doubt it will be to your tastes.”

“Kaiser,” he said. “You can call me that, if you are so insistent.”

“Kaiser,” you repeated, tasting it in your mouth. There was a familiarity and a power to the word, but you could not place your finger on what it meant; deciding it was unimportant, you nodded. “I am Y/N.”

“Yes, I knew that already,” he said.

“It would’ve been rude if I did not introduce myself to you as well,” you said.

“And there is the difference between courtesy and etiquette,” he said.

“Hm?” you said. He did not even look at you, lifting his chin so that he could admire the ceiling.

“What a beautiful scene,” he said. 

“Beautiful?” you said, frowning. You had never taken the time to understand it, but now you saw that it was a depiction of Michael killing the hellish viper that was his bane. The roughness of the strokes, however, lended a gruesome quality to it that the painting in the king’s gallery did not have — Michael’s face was twisted into a grotesque leer instead of a gentle smile, and his sword was stabbed through the serpent’s throat instead of pointed at it in warning. Red-glazed pebbles wept like tears along the snake’s body, and the sword in Michael’s hand was made of cruel ivory, his eyes chips of blue glass that twinkled with delight instead of solemnity. 

“Isn’t it?” he said, smiling for the first time, not at you but at the mosaic. 

“Well, there’s a quality to the workmanship,” you said. “But it’s too gory for my tastes.”

“The truth of things can never be too gory,” he instructed you, and though he had no qualifications in the way of priesthood, you were somehow inclined to listen. “The truth is the truth. If that is how it happened, then you must accept it.”

“Who are we to know how it happened?” you said.

“Who indeed?” he said.

“You speak in riddles,” you said. “It is distracting. I do not mind it, though, because there is much I wish to be distracted from at present, so I am not chiding you, necessarily, but I hope that you know.”

“I know,” he said, amusement in his tone. “It’s something I’ve been accused of many times before, and by men several orders of magnitude more important than you as well.”

“I see,” you said. “Regardless, I believe my father might search for me soon, and as I have found some merriment in you, I do not wish for him to find you here quite yet, so I shall take my leave. But I will return! Please be here when I do.”

“I will be here,” he said, despite the fact that you hadn’t mentioned when you would next visit the chapel. You didn’t question it; he felt like the kind of person that was better left a mystery, or at least figured out slowly, so that no layers were missed.

The next morning, you entered the chapel as the bell rang upon the hour, peering in through the door and smiling slightly when you saw him perched upon a bench made of the same rich walnut as the entryway. He was perfectly still, his back straight, his sword laid across his lap, and he did not turn to greet you, staring straight at the flickering candles of the altar. Your footsteps echoed as you crossed the room, sitting on the bench directly opposite him, facing the candles as well.

“Did you light them?” you said.

“They were already lit,” he said.

“Hm,” you said. “It wasn’t me.”

“Naturally,” he said.

“I suppose someone else visits this place, too,” you said. 

“What will you do about it?” he said.

“Nothing,” you said. “If it brings them solace, then who am I to deny them that? The nearest church is a long walk; even this is not so close to the manor. I am weary already.”

At this he did glance at you, his eyes lowering for a moment before he returned his attention to the front of the room.

“You are frail, then,” he said. “The walk is not that long.”

“My mother was the frail one,” you said. “I have inherited my father’s good health, or so I am told.”

“Ah,” he said. 

“I will have to come on my horse next time,” you said, only half-joking. Perhaps the distance was not quite long enough to warrant riding, but you really had been winded, and the constriction of your chest was more than a little unpleasant, like there was a stone pressing into your heart.

“If that is what you require,” he said, clearly disinterested in the conversation. You wondered what he saw in the candles, if there was something he could divine from the small, captive flames.

“Was your mother a moth?” you said.

“What?” he said, blinking at you in alarm. “Are you an idiot?”

He said it so genuinely that it felt more like concern than anything. You suppressed a smile, pointing at the beeswax dripping into the golden bowl set there to collect it.

“I’ve only ever seen moths be so enamored by candles before,” you said. 

“So you are an idiot,” he said, clicking his tongue. “What a foolish thing to say.”

“It was in jest,” you said. “My apologies. I shall remain serious in your company henceforth.”

“See to it that you are silent as well,” he said, and so you were, sitting across the aisle from him and watching the candles until they burnt out. Even then, he stayed facing the wisps of smoke, tracking them with his eyes as they fluttered into the air with the briskness of a wasp, so eventually you left him behind, him and those blackened stumps marring the air and the altar alike with their crumbling, papery ash.

“There is news that the plague is worsening,” your father said one day at dinner. The news of the plague brought to the forefront of your mind your mother, who you had done so well at ignoring until then. It was easy to pretend that the sickness had never existed, that those days of flooding rivers and viper-lined streets and shivering women had been nothing more than horrible dreams in quick succession. 

“I suppose it shouldn’t come as a shock,” you said. “Winter has come early this year.”

“Do you think so?” your father said. You gulped, pushing at your food with your fork.

“Already, there is a chill in the air,” you said. 

“What horrible luck,” he said. “We’ve hardly had time to recover and replenish our stores of grain. If frost comes to the fields early, then we are doomed.”

“I am surprised it has not yet bitten the earth,” you admitted. Your father, who had always trusted you more than most men would trust their daughters, groaned, dragging his hand over his face.

“There is still time?” he said.

“We can hope,” you said.

“I will order the fiefs to begin their harvesting at once,” he said. “By all rights, summer is still yet to fade into autumn, but even if it is premature, the crops should be serviceable, and the fields can be replanted at once. If it goes well, then our yields may nearly double.”

“A sensible decision, father,” you said. “That should be more than enough to last us all until the next spring.”

“Thank you for your counsel, my girl,” your father said, and if you were not seated at the table, he would’ve patted your shoulder or kissed your cheek or shown his pride in some other such affectionate manner. “I will be lost without you.”

“I am not going anywhere,” you said. “Am I?”

“Not yet,” he said. “But one day you will leave this manor for your husband’s home, and then I shall be on my own.”

“That is still some years away,” you said. 

“As many years as possible,” your father said. “There are no suitors in this kingdom worthy of you, anyways.”

“I will trust you when you say that, father,” you said. The lines around his eyes deepened from the force of his grin, and it heartened you to see, for he hadn’t smiled much since your mother had died. Setting your cutlery down, crossing them over your plate as was neat and expected, you placed your hand over his, the skin of his hunt-worn palms rough against yours. “For now, I am content here.”

“And here you shall stay,” he said, firm and sure in the way that only the brother of a king could be. What he said was what happened. He commanded things into existence and so they did occur; it was the kind of power that very few were afforded, and hardly ever in a greater quantity than him, so when he spoke, it was always with the weight of expectation behind it.

You really did ride your horse to the chapel after that dinner with your father. Now that you had mentioned it to him, you could not help feeling the signs of the impending ice of the dead season, and only hugging the warm neck of your little bay palfrey as she trotted along could ward it away. She was gentle and game enough to not mind it, nuzzling you when you got off and dropping her head to graze where you tied her. You pulled your gloves off and tucked them in your pocket, rubbing the whorl of a white star on her forehead before ducking into the chapel.

It was later than you had been the other times you had come, but Kaiser was there anyways, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his forehead pressed against the altar. Never had you seen such misconduct, but you thought he must be sleeping, so you did what you could to be as silent as possible, tiptoeing over to stand behind him, reaching out your hand to jostle him.

“Don’t,” he said, flinching back and glaring at you over his shoulder.

“You were awake?” you said.

“Yes,” he said. 

“I thought you were not,” you said. He squinted at you.

“Your powers of discernment are frightening,” he said.

“Because of their uncanny strength?” you tried.

“The opposite,” he said. “You are fumbling and blind. I do not know how you have made it so far in life.”

“Maybe it’s a miracle,” you said, sitting beside him, mirroring the arrangement of his legs, your elbows digging into your thighs so that you could rest your chin in your hands. “My birth was one. Why not the rest of my life?”

“I assume you want me to ask what you mean by that,” he said.

“It’s not that I want it,” you said, swiveling eagerly so that you could face him. He snorted, not offering you the same dignity, the gold of the altar reflecting on his cheekbones. “But I’ll tell you if you’d like!”

“I wouldn’t,” he said. You waited, but he did not budge. The sword was at his side, his one hand placed over it, so instead of telling him any stories, you bent so that you could inspect the weapon.

“Where did you get this, anyways?” you said. “It’s of a make I don’t recognize.”

“And you are well-acquainted with every blacksmith in the entire kingdom, I expect?” he said.

“The ones of note, yes,” you said. “The ones with the talent to make something so fine. Don’t you remember whose daughter I am? I was loved by knights long before my father laid eyes upon me. They taught me a little.”

“What use does a princess have for smithing?” he said, though he did not make any moves to pull the sword away, allowing you to inspect it. You dared not touch it, lest he yank it back, but it seemed the lingering of your eyes was permissible, so you were unabashed in allowing them to rest upon the gleaming metal.

“Not much,” you said. “But a knight has very many uses for the matter.”

“You are no knight,” he said with a sneer. 

“Of course not,” you said. Now that you were closer, you saw that the centers of the roses blooming on the hilt were sapphire, and what you had thought was rust had a different shade to it, something dried and burgundy that you could not identify. “But they were. The ways of the sword were all that they knew, so I was raised on such tales instead of the more typical stories.”

A gust of wind blew through the windows, and you shuddered, tucking your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. Kaiser gripped his sword tighter, the veins of his hand standing out blue and angry, but otherwise he did not react.

“One blacksmith brands his work with a bull,” you said. “Another with a dog, and a third with laurels. Many and many things, yet the rose has no place on the list. It’s too sacred. Nobody would dare carve Michael’s symbol into a mere mortal weapon. Who are we, anyways? To compare ourselves to someone who does such grand things?”

“You said grand,” he noted. “Not great.”

“Great implies an antonym,” you said. “But I don’t think such concept really exist to him and those of that kind — good and bad and all. There are different scales, different evils, but the ways in which the angels impact our lives can only be grand or minute. It’s unfair to assign morality to it.”

“Yet if these acts, whether grand or minute, change your life for the better, or alternately for the worse, then can you not judge them to be either good or bad?” he said.

“I can, and indeed many do, but they are not my concern. I speak only of Michael, and I maintain that it is impossible for him to turn that judgment unto himself,” you said. “You know, my mother saw him right before she died. Everyone thought it was a stroke of good fortune. He’s a healer, so he must’ve been there to heal her — yet they forgot, in their desperate hope, that he also comes to escort us to our final resting places. As he had come for my mother.”

“Yes,” he said. “It’s true.”

“Well,” you said. “That’s it, then. Is he evil for taking my mother? Can I liken him to a villain for what he did? I would like to. It would be easier…if there was someone to blame, then it would be easier. I wish I could hate someone for it, but I cannot. There is no one. Michael did not take her to hurt me; that is just what he does. I can point my finger at that ceiling and curse him, but what good will it do? It won’t change his nature.”

Kaiser was silent. You must’ve bored him, and you wished you could disappear into the floor, melt into a mosaic, and freeze in place before he could mock you.

“Angels are above humans,” he said after a while.

“Everyone knows that,” you said.

“So how can humans do something that an angel cannot?” he said. “How is it possible?”

“I suppose it’s not unique to them,” you said. “Asking an angel to understand a person is like asking you or I to empathize with a dormouse. The best we can do is impartiality; it’s the same for them, I’d say.”

“Dormice?” he said. “I don’t think it’s the same at all.”

“No?” you said. “I’m not that learned. I don’t take offense. There’s as many theories about these obscurities as there are stars in the sky; I pass the time by coming up with more by the day, for I have little else to do when I am not here, but of course they would not hold under examination. I’m hardly a priest.”

There was another gale, this one howling and accompanied by your horse huffing anxiously outside. You doubted it was anything more than an oncoming squall, and ordinarily you’d wait for it to pass, but you did not want to leave the mare alone in the rain, so reluctantly you stood, dipping your head at Kaiser in the politest farewell you could muster.

“Wait,” he said when you reached the door, his voice still a dull, quiet monotone that you had to strain to properly listen to. “Next time.”

“Next time?” you said.

“Tell me the story of your birth,” he said, and then he was glowering at you again, demanding and haughty and piercing all in turn. “I will understand you.”

“Who said you won’t?” you said rhetorically. “Farewell for now. Please be safe in returning to your quarters.”

Your mare pranced the entire way back to the stables, her ears pricked towards the sky, her tail held high and the whites of her eyes showing. You tangled your fingers in her mane, the coming storm seeping through the fabric of your cloak as you urged her forward, hardly making it to the stable before it began to pour, ducking under the stone lip of the roof and holding onto her reins with sweat-slicked hands, trembling from the relief of the near-miss and leaning against her muscular neck to regain your bearings.

At the end of that week, you were met with a visitor — the youngest and dearest of your uncles, who loved you as if you were his own eldest daughter. He had set out from his own manor as soon as he had heard the news, and such was his haste that even now, the grit of his travels lined his clothes and features, but that did not dampen his jovial spirit any.

“You must rest, uncle!” you said, wincing as he regaled you with a story about the strange twins he had met while riding to the manor, with faces like crocodiles and mouths that only spoke lies, right up until he cut their tongues out, after which they could no longer speak at all.

“My, my, how you fret! Lovely niece, you are more and more like your mother every day,” your uncle said. “You must be so proud of her.”

This was accompanied by a good-natured punch to your father’s arm; anyone else would’ve been reprimanded, but at his brother’s antics, your father could only roll his eyes and cuff him on the ear, just as good-natured and half-heartedly.

“I don’t think it’s possible for a man to be prouder,” he said.

“Thank you, father,” you said, curtseying before brandishing an irreverent finger at your uncle. “But really, I insist! Let me take you to your chambers. You have come so far — surely you are weary.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it…” he said.

“There will be plenty of time for your stories tomorrow over breakfast,” you assured him, taking the stairs slowly, so that he did not overexert himself. “I am sure you have many more.”

“Of course,” he said. “Though not all of them are as lively.”

“Is there cause for alarm?” you said. Your uncle turned away guiltily. Slipping the key to his chambers into the lock and rotating it, you waited. “You must tell me if there is.”

“I don’t want to cause undue stress,” he said. “Especially after everything with your mother.”

“You have already said it. Better to be done with the affair and tell me the whole of things; it’ll only stress me further if you leave me to conjure scenarios of my own in my mind, so there is no avoiding it now,” you said.

“Come in with me, then,” he said, following after you into the chambers where his luggage was already waiting. You sat on the edge of the bed, allowing him to collapse into the desk chair, his head in his hands. “The queen.”

“No,” you said, praying it was paranoia that forced your thoughts down the ugliest of paths. “No, you don’t mean—”

“She has taken ill,” he said. “Her condition is deteriorating at the same rate your mother’s did. My brother the king is…not optimistic. She has been secluded in an attempt to contain the affliction, though of course we do not know how long she has been sick and how much longer she has been contagious. The entire royal family, barring you, your father, and I — if we stay away from the palace, that is — could succumb before the flowers next bloom.”

“Only the three of us will be left?” you said. Your uncle nodded.

“It seems that even in death, your mother is looking out for you,” he said. Something scratched at the back of your throat, and despite how you tried to swallow it back, it only clawed its way up, coalescing into a small whimper. Your uncle’s face softened, returning ten years of youth to it. “Don’t be afraid. We are safe here. As safe as can be.”

“How does it matter?” you said. “If everyone else is gone, how does it matter?”

To this, your uncle had no response, so he only gave you a pitying look and bade you to return to your room, promising you both would meet again and discuss it in the morning, when your father could join you. Whether he would’ve held true to that oath or not, you didn’t know, because as soon as you heard the murmuring of the servants awakening, you threw on a pair of house-slippers and fled the manor, running as fast as you could to the chapel where you knew Kaiser would be waiting.

In the watery light of dawn, he was almost ghostly, ephemeral like smoke or a wraith, the blue of his hair iridescent, the gold closer to a soft cream. Today he was far from the candles, sitting on one of the benches again, his back to you. You panted from the exertion of your earlier pace, but he did not move, did not try to assist you or even greet you.

“There was a prophecy,” you coughed out, flopping onto the closest bench, lying on it with your feet hanging off of the ends. “About my mother. It said that my father’s blood would spell her death.”

Kaiser did not say anything, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t listening, or at least that was what you assured yourself with. He must’ve heard you. He must’ve known.

“My uncles commanded him to take a second wife. The prophecy must’ve referred to their progeny, and indeed every heir they attempted to conceive died in her womb before it could kill her in turn, further proving the point. My father refused, however. He wouldn’t do that to her. If he could not have a child with her, then he would not have one at all,” you said. “I’m sure you know where this is going.”

“They prayed,” he said. “In turn, they were gifted with a child.”

“And my mother did not die,” you said. “That’s why people say I’ve been agreeable for my entire life. I did not fuss, either. I was good, or so I’ve been told. The best of my cousins by far. At the time of my birth, my father was away on some campaign for my uncle the king, so he did not even hear of it for many months, and he could not return for many more. It’s why I was raised by knights and nuns.”

“And why you spout theories and smithing as if you were born to them,” he said.

“That as well. Anyways, the nuns always praised me for defying that prophecy,” you said. “For saving my mother from a certain death. Do you understand?”

“Prophecies are hardly ever so straightforward,” he said. “You can divine one million meanings from them, but it is the million-and-first which will come true. It’s foolhardy and presumptuous for one to claim they understand the truth behind the future. You can only know it once it has come to pass.”

“Yes,” you said. “I don’t disagree.”

“Perhaps it was still your father’s blood that led to your mother’s demise,” he said.

“How? She fell to the plague,” you said.

“It ended with the plague,” he said. “What did it begin with?”

“Snakes,” you said. “No, before that. A flood.”

“And before that?” he said, condescending as anything. It would’ve been infuriating if it was not so at home with his severe countenance.

“There was nothing before that,” you said. 

“If that’s what you think,” he said. “Anyways, is that what you came to tell me?”

“The queen is ill,” you said, gripping the back of the bench and using it to push yourself to a sitting position, swinging your legs down so that your feet were planted on the ground again. “They think it is the same disease which ruined my mother. It’s likely that the entire royal family will be lost — except my youngest uncle, my father, and myself, for all of us fled before the outbreak could reach the castle and have not yet shown any symptoms of the plague.”

“Maybe they deserve it,” he said, with no small amount of contempt. You trained your eyes on the ground, unsure of how you could even fathom saying something, and in your mother’s own chapel, as well. Surely you would be judged for it, but for some reason you thought that you owed honesty to Kaiser.

“Maybe they do,” you said. “Likely they do. But they are — they are still my family. I don’t want them to die.”

His sword caught the sun, and for a moment the maroon on the blade seemed to writhe and drip, coming alive in the light and only stilling when clouds passed across the windows once more. Kaiser’s shoulders still did not face you, but he tilted his head so that he could regard you as he spoke.

“You think they deserve it,” he said, phrasing it as a statement of fact instead of a question.

“I don’t know,” you said. “They must. We all must. These disasters are likely a form of punishment, though I know not what we are being punished for.”

“There is cruelty in this kingdom,” Kaiser said, his voice so cold that it caused a nervous tremor to shoot through you. “And it takes its purest shape in the L/Ns. That must be why they are facing the worst of it.”

You wished you could disagree with him. You wanted to. You wanted to tell him that your father and your uncles and your ten cousins were kind and good, but neither could you lie. Neither could you reassure him of a falsehood, when the both of you knew that had it been anyone else in your family who had found him in the chapel, he would’ve lost his head by now.

“They are cruel,” you said. “I know it. But I cannot bring myself to hate them, not when they love me.”

“It does not absolve them,” he said.

“It does not,” you said heavily. “And I suppose it does not absolve me, either.”

This time, he stood, hefting his sword and pacing in the same frantic way that a leashed dog might. He did not try to brandish the sword, allowing it to drag along at his side, but neither did he let it go. You watched him until you were dizzy from the repetitive nature of his path, and then you covered your eyes and listened to the thud of his boots against the ground.

“You are more like your mother and the queen,” he said.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you said. “Is it because I am a woman? I have cousin-sisters as well, however, and they are as L/N as me.”

“No, it is not that,” he said. “You have been dragged into the sins of the L/Ns against your will, and now you must reap their consequences alongside them. Whether or not you have earned them is irrelevant at this point; you will receive them.”

“It’s already begun,” you said. “My mother — my mother — and who else? They will all be gone, and my father and uncle aren’t so young, which means I shall soon be alone. What will I do then?”

Kaiser was a servant, so by all rights such things were beyond him, but never once had he spoken to you with the deference that his station implied. You didn’t think he knew what it meant to bow his head and comply blindly, so you waited for him to respond, to bestow some small wisdom hidden in the biting jaws of his blasé attitude.

“You won’t be alone,” he said.

“You don’t know that,” you said.

“I do,” he said, as if it were an undeniable truth, written in the foundations of the world. You had never been the type to feel comforted by platitudes, but something about the way it sounded coming from him made your heart swell. “Y/N L/N, you will never be alone. That I am sure of.”

“Do you guarantee it?” you said. “Even though it’s impossible, do you swear?”

“I do,” he said. It was the kindest thing he had ever said to you, so you smiled slightly, although there was no amiability in his tone.

“Then I will believe you,” you said. 

“Believe me or don’t,” he said. “Your feelings will not affect that outcome.”

“Hm,” you said. “Well, thank you for reassuring me.”

“That isn’t why I said that,” he said. 

“But you managed it anyways,” you said. “I need to go, though. I did not dress to be outside, and it’s a bit cool today, isn’t it?”

“No,” he said, a peculiar lilt to his voice. “No, Y/N. I don’t think that it is.”

With your uncle there, it was harder to find time to visit the chapel. Where once Kaiser had been the only one to occupy your time and thus your thoughts, the only one with enough of a mystery to his being that even the bleakest of your grief could be warded off by it, now your uncle was there to distract you, with his stories and his tricks and his gifts. Never one for religion, just like your father, he laughed when you suggested visiting the chapel, and often by the time you were freed of his company, you were far too exhausted to even think about leaving your chambers, let alone the manor.

He was a whirlwind of a man, your youngest uncle, a tempestuous person whose sword was as ready as his smile. Quick to anger and slow to forgive, he had been the spear of your father’s campaign, slicing through the villages they conquered in the name of the king with brutal, clinical efficiency. You were the only person who had never been subject to his wrath, for you were the youngest and mildest of your ten cousins, and thus cherished by the rest of your family in a way that the others were not.

“Have you finished enough of those to go in the woods with me? There’s a place I’m thinking of going hunting, but I’d like your guidance before I do so,” your uncle said one morning, when the sun shone and the sky was as blue as if it were made of ceramic. You were sitting across from him in the parlor, embroidering handkerchiefs with your family’s sigil, folding them and placing them on the table for your father’s use. Your father himself was out for the day, checking on one of his vassal’s progress in the early harvest, which was likely why your uncle was asking you for assistance instead of him.

“It’s only something to while away the hours,” you said, tying off the end of the thin thread in a perfect, imperceptible knot, shaking out the newly completed handkerchief and then setting it with the rest. “I can go whenever you’d like.”

“I’ll send word to the stablehands to tack our horses, then,” your uncle said. “Have you gone to the river’s shore before?”

“Once or twice,” you said.

“If there’s anywhere to find deer, it’ll be there. What do you say about venison for supper by the weekend?” he said.

“Father will be pleased,” you said. The youngest of his brothers and yet the most talented when it came to hunting, your uncle was known in your family for his aptitude at picking out the rarest of game. Your father always told you that if there was anything resembling an afterlife, he would spend it all eating whatever your uncle brought home, and you had no doubt that he would be delighted to return from his trip and find a freshly-slain stag waiting for him.

In order to reach the river, you had to ride through endless swathes of green — some were tilled and tended, but the majority of those fields were wild, home to nothing but rabbits and robins, both of whom fled upon hearing the clip of your horses’ hoofbeats. At first the cleared paths were wide enough for you and your uncle to ride side by side, but eventually they grew narrower, the tall grass scratching at your legs, pollen leaving yellow streaks on your horses’ haunches, and so you were forced to ride in front, for your mare was as sure-footed as your uncle’s charger was flighty and spooky.

“Be careful,” your uncle said as you pushed her forward, kicking her when she pinned her ears at your uncle’s stallion. “The grounds in these fields are always treacherous. Snakes make their homes amongst the grasses and hide the entrances; even one misplaced footfall can be disastrous.”

“Ah, she is good,” you said. “I trust her to know where her feet are better than I would.”

“Smart girl,” your uncle said. “You must get it from your uncle.”

You swatted away a horsefly before it could land on your leg. It was gray and fat and lazy, but you knew that its bite burnt like a bee-sting, so you steered your horse away from it the slightest bit, in the hopes that it would dissuade any further pursuit.

“Of course,” you said. “Though more than smart, I trust that my father’s men have trained her well, in these very fields.”

“Do they come here often, then?” he said. “We won’t be able to find anything if there are many people passing by.”

“Not that I know of. This section of the riverbank is reserved for our family’s use. Nobody would dare come up this way unless they were on my father’s orders, and my father rarely issues such commands,” you said.

“Good,” your uncle said, relaxing in his saddle, taking his bow off of his shoulder and holding an arrow in his right hand. “If we are very quiet, then we may find something today.”

“So soon?” you said.

“Why not?” he said. “We must be silent, however, lest we frighten everything in a few leagues’ radius away.”

Soon, the only thing that could be heard was the whine of the crickets in the grass that your horses disturbed. It was a high sound, shrill and thin like a flute, insistent in the way of begging, and if your uncle had not been there, you would’ve covered your ears to muffle it.

You couldn’t tell how long you wandered along the riverbanks for, but eventually, there was a faint rustling in the brush. You and your uncle locked eyes, and then you reined your mare to a stop, allowing him to trot forwards, eyes locked on the place where the noise had arisen from, his bow held at the ready, a single arrow in place — because a single arrow was all he would need. Your uncle had never once let fly an arrow which did not then make a home in its target, and you doubted he would begin to do so any time soon.

Another minute passed before the rustling grew louder and something burst from the copse of saplings, crashing through the tightly interwoven branches. You gasped when you saw that it was not a deer or any other such game but a boy, his hair dark and long over his eyes, his shoulders narrow and bony, more like perfect, sickening corners with skin draped over them than anything.

“Please,” he said, dropping to his knees, gazing up at you, his pupils like black pinpricks in the expanse of his blank eyes. “I didn’t — I didn’t mean to! I wasn’t — I got lost, but I didn’t mean to end up here! I was only waiting for you to pass through so that I could return home.”

“So you knew that what you were doing was wrong. Expressly forbidden by the prince,” your uncle said. 

“Uncle, it was clearly a mistake,” you said uneasily. 

“Mistakes are made when one does not have knowledge,” your uncle said. “This was not a mistake, nor was it an accident.”

“I was looking for rabbits,” the boy pleaded. “My sister likes them.”

“So you were hunting on the prince’s land?” your uncle said.

“No!” the boy said. “No, she — we don’t eat them, she likes to pet them, she’s still young and our mother is sick so I thought I would find one for her but there aren’t any near our house, so I began to wander, and I don’t know how but I ended up here — please, I didn’t mean to! I didn’t!”

“It’s alright,” you said, loosening your foot from your right stirrup and preparing to dismount. “Where is your home? We can escort you—”

“Stay on your horse,” your uncle said to you. You froze, unaccustomed to hearing him speak in such a way. “You. Boy. You admit your guilt? You have trespassed?”

“Yes — no — I don’t—” the boy stammered. His lips were bluing at the edges, you saw, and you realized he, and likely his mother who he had spoken of, was cursed with the plague, which choked his mind and judgment as well as it did his throat and heart.

“He is unwell, uncle,” you said quietly. “Let him go home.”

The boy was not long for this world, and wasting the precious time he had remaining with this pointless interrogation caused a pit to form in your stomach and a glacial feeling to crawl down your back and shoulders, the kind which could not be chased away even by the strongest of fires.

“Crimes cannot go unpunished,” your uncle said. “If we let him go, then we will have to let the next go, and the next after that. Where do you draw the line?”

“Here,” you said. “That is where I draw it. We both know that he is closer to my mother than to us at this point. Forgive him this time. He will not return, I am sure of it.”

“I won’t,” the boy said, voice cracking. “Your royal highnesses, I won’t.”

“Tell me where you live,” you said. “Not far, surely?”

“Just over the hill,” the boy said, staggering to his feet. “The house with the hyacinths in front of it.”

“I will take you there,” you promised him.

“You will do no such thing,” your uncle said. “Y/N L/N. If you ever wish to be the lady of an estate, then you must learn how to punish those who disobey your rule.”

“Don’t!” you said, but you were too late, far too late. Already, the arrow was cutting through the air and piercing through the boy’s heart. He fell in the way a leaf might, silent and crumpling and brittle, a motionless heap staining the earth with his blood. You screamed, or at least you tried to, but there was not enough air in your lungs, and you could not inhale or exhale without the ringing in your ears climbing into a pounding sensation.

“Where are you going?” your uncle said as you tugged on your mare’s left rein, turning her around, away from the still body and your uncle’s stark figure. “Y/N! Wait!”

Tightening your calves, you cued her into a gallop, taking off along the riverbank, water spraying into the air wherever her feet fell. Dimly you were aware of your uncle shouting after you, and then he, too, was galloping in your pursuit, but his stallion was recalcitrant, rearing and gnashing at the bit with every step, slowing their progress immensely and allowing you to fly out of their sight.

Turning into the fields that swept towards the manor, you paid no heed to your uncle’s earlier warnings, pushing the horse faster instead of slowing as you should’ve, your surroundings blurring into nothing more than smears of viridian and mustard in your peripheral vision. You had to reach him before your uncle did. You had to, you had to, you had to —

Abruptly, your horse skidded to a stop, scrambling for purchase in the ground and snorting nervously. You were thrown up her neck but did not fall, sitting back and scanning the area for what might’ve spooked her. In the beginning you did not see it, but then there was a soft hiss from the ground that caused her to dance backwards uncertainly, and you bit your lip hard enough to draw blood.

“You are meant to be gone,” you said to the viper, which was baring its fangs at you, its dark tongue flicking out periodically to taste the air before it. Your words bordered on hysterical as you shifted in your saddle, eyeing its coiling body with equal parts fear and disdain. “Your kind vanished! Why are you back? Do you mean to torment me?” 

The serpent did not move to strike, but neither did it shift out of the way, its slit-pupil eyes never blinking, its white teeth like pearls against the roof of its black mouth. You looked around, but there was no other path as clearly demarcated as the one you were on, and you dared not risk going into the grasses where thousands more of the snake’s brethren could be lying in wait.

Behind you, you could once more hear your uncle calling your name, and you knew that the precious few seconds you had gained on him would come to naught if you continued to dither about. When all was said and done, there was only one thing you could do, so apologizing to your horse, you squeezed her onwards. She lurched forwards with a start, her tail swishing, her movements jerky as she inched towards the snake, which grew eerily still at your approach.

Death was supposed to be a mystery or a surprise, but for some reason, as your horse took that final step forwards, you were excruciatingly aware that the next few moments would likely be your last. The snake would dart up, as quick as a whip, and it would latch onto your leg, slaying you instantaneously. What a swift revenge it would be, that your uncle had killed that boy and now he would be met with your own body, pierced through with snake venom as that child had been skewered upon his arrow!

You could’ve done a great number of things in those final seconds, but your mother’s final words came to you, and you found yourself mulling them over. He is here, she had said. Right in front of you. Don’t you see him? He is so beautiful. As beautiful as the paintings. Michael himself had appeared for her, but then who was by your side? Who would accompany you after your death? 

There was a flash of movement in the corner of your eye, something azure and fluttering — a butterfly, surely, or some small bird frightened by the commotion. It was unimportant in the end; what mattered most was the color, which was so reminiscent of the person you had set out for that it broke you from your daze, heartening you enough to sit up and raise your chin, facing the snake with enough courage that even your horse ceased to shy away from it. Instead, she let out a squeal which sounded like a trumpet, and then she leapt into the air, bucking upon the landing and galloping away from the viper at such a speed that white lather frothed on her neck and streaked down her shoulders.

You reached the chapel in a time that should not have been possible, and even before you had pulled the mare to a stop, you were leaping off, your fingers clumsy as you tied her to the first fence post you saw. Your legs protested as you took the stairs two at a time, but you paid them no heed. You could not allow them to fail you, not when your uncle’s strides were twice the length of yours.

“Kaiser!” you called out when you entered the chapel. He was standing by the altar, a shower of sparks falling from the flint in his hands onto the charred cloth placed on the table, and instead of greeting you, he blew on the smoldering edge. A flame blossomed to life, and he used it to light a new candle, smothering the cloth under his boot once the fire had been transferred. “Kaiser, you must leave at once.”

“Why should I do that?” he said. “Who are you to dismiss in such a way?”

“It’s not me,” you said. “My uncle is furious, and if he finds you — if he finds you here, then he’ll cut you down, and not even that sword of yours will be enough to stop him.”

“Your uncle and his moods have little to do with me,” Kaiser said. “His tantrums are meaningless.”

“You don’t know him like I do,” you said. 

“Don’t I?” he said.

“He just killed a boy for trespassing,” you said. “I couldn’t even stop him. It was the most I could do to return in time to warn you before he came here to pray for that child’s life.”

“You disobeyed your uncle and ran from him for the sole purpose of…warning me?” he said.

“Yes, but it will be meaningless if you don’t hearken to my words,” you said. 

“Why is that?” he said.

“Enough with your riddles and your questions!” you snapped. “Are you incapable of taking anything seriously? You will die!”

“Answer this one and I’ll oblige your inane demands,” he said.

“Being with you is the only time I do not fear or mourn,” you said, your nails carving crescents into your palms as your gaze switched rapidly between him and the door. “My mother…my family…the plague and the vipers and the floods…I can forget about them all when I speak to you. If you are gone, then I will have no one. So please, please run. I cannot bear the thought of your blood being shed as well.”

Kaiser looked at you, and then, inexplicably, he laughed. It was a sound so lovely that it grated on your nerves, like a bell ringing too close to your ears. “Your uncle is not a man who could ever shed my blood, and he’d have to have an inordinately high opinion of himself to think he could.”

“You said you would oblige me,” you said, having half-expected such an arrogant response from him but finding that you were vexed by it anyways. “It doesn’t matter what you think of him. You must go, and only return once he has left this place.”

The door slammed open. You spun, drawing your cloak tighter around your shoulders and standing as straight as you could, dismay spiking in your stomach when your uncle walked in. The two of you had spent too long discussing, your explanation had been too lengthy, you had remained frightened of the snake for more time than you should’ve — at the end of the day, the reason didn’t matter as much as the result, which was that your uncle was here and Kaiser was still standing behind you.

“Y/N,” your uncle said, coming down the aisle, his stride light and elegant, the picture of a gentleman. You took a step back, reaching your hand out behind you to prevent Kaiser from saying something callous and damning, as he was wont to do.

“It’s not what you think,” you said. “Uncle, it’s not — please don’t —”

Yet when your uncle reached the altar, he did not draw his sword, nor did he command Kaiser to kneel before him. He only gave you a puzzled look, directing his attention to the candles burning behind your back.

“You played with your life just to come and light the candles a little earlier?” he said.

“What?” you said. 

“I know it must’ve been upsetting to see, but rules need to be upheld, or else they cease to be rules and turn into mere suggestions,” your uncle said, patting you on the head. 

“Aren’t you angry?” you said in trepidation.

“With you? No, of course not,” he said. “It was the same way for me, the first time I witnessed my father performing an execution. You’ll grow out of it.”

“Er, okay,” you said, too bewildered now to even comprehend his words. What was Kaiser’s magic, that he had escaped your uncle’s stern reproach and careless sword, which had felled countless men?

“Will you stay with me while I pray?” your uncle said. It was the only time he ever changed his mind about religion — after every life he took, he pleaded for forgiveness, as if that could be enough to exonerate him. You weren’t sure if it would be or not, but it didn’t really matter what you thought — it was the only way he had, you were quite sure, to go on. To continue living despite everything he had done.

“No,” you said. “Come — ah, what?”

You had turned to beckon Kaiser, but when you did, you realized that he was gone, vanished without a trace, though you had not heard or seen him leave. Your uncle gave you another strange look before returning to one of the benches and bowing his head, leaving you to wonder if Kaiser had ever even been there in the first place.

The stablehands were confused when you brought your drained mare back to them and demanded they ready another horse for you, and it was only worsened when you commanded them to also bring you one of the rabbits that were raised for their meat. Yet they could not argue with the princess, so they did as you said, bringing you the smallest of your father’s mounts and placing a young rabbit in your arms once you were in the saddle.

You could not tell whether you or the rabbit quivered more — the rabbit from confusion and fear, you from fatigue and the temperature, which had dropped rapidly since you and your uncle had set out in the mid-morning.

Taking a longer route so that you avoided the fields where you had seen the serpent, you trotted towards the riverbank, cradling the rabbit to your heart in the hopes that its warmth would transfer to you. Halting by where the boy’s body still lay, undisturbed and almost peaceful, you set the rabbit atop a tree branch so that it could not escape, and then you jumped off of your horse and crouched so that you could lift the boy onto your saddle. Draping him over it with every bit of strength you could summon, you took the rabbit back in one arm and used the other to lead the horse after you as you trudged towards the direction of the village, mud soaking into your boots and flecking the hems of your clothing.

You crossed the hill at a snail’s pace until you reached a small stone house with purple hyacinths littering the courtyard and a brown goat grazing on the scrubby grass, and then you knocked on the door and stood there until a man opened it. He was tall, his face lined and burnt from the sun, trenches like crow-feet digging into the corner of his eyes, his clothes patched and mended by inexperienced hands many times over. He squinted at you, like he was trying to recognize you, but eventually he gave up and cocked his head at you instead.

“On what business have you come knocking, miss?” he said.

“Your son,” you said. He rolled his eyes affectionately.

“Ah, that rascal. I hope he was not bothering you?” he said. You tried to swallow back the lump in your throat and found that it was impossible, so you stroked the ears of the rabbit and squeezed out a response anyways.

“He’s dead,” you said. “No. He was killed.”

“Pardon?” the man said. “Killed? On what — on what account?”

“On a whim,” you said, a tear splashing onto the rabbit’s back, turning the gray of its fur into a color like tar. “If there were a better explanation, I’d give it to you, sir, but the truth is there isn’t one.”

The man stared at you in disbelief, and you tightened your grip on the horse’s reins, waiting for him to say something. Yet he was silent, staring and staring as if by doing so he could turn your words to lies.

“I brought him back for you,” you whispered, the words digging into your windpipe as they went. “I brought him back.”

The man made a small nose which seemed to come from deep within him, guttural and low and keening, and then he fell to the floor.

“Please say it isn’t so,” he wept, pressing his forehead to your feet. “Lady, lady, say this is some cruel prank and go. His mother is sick already; you cannot say I will lose them both in such short succession. Say you are lying to me.”

“I can’t,” you said, your lower lip wobbling and your vision blurring. “Sir, I cannot do that.”

He wrapped his arms around your ankles and bawled like a child, folded over your boots as he cried and cried. You were motionless, wishing that there was something you could do but knowing that it would all be meaningless — just like Kaiser could not bring your mother back, so, too, were you incapable of resurrecting this man’s son, who had been put down at the hands of your own uncle.

“Thank you,” he said after some time had passed, standing and wiping his face, taking your horse’s reins from you. “I will see to it that he is taken care of. Might I have your name? So that I can repay you?”

“No repayment is necessary,” you said. “Please refrain; I’ve done nothing worthy of repayment. I only ask that you tell me if you have a daughter.”

“Yes,” the man sniffed. “Yes, she’s inside, sitting with her mother. Do you require her?”

“Only to give her a gift,” you said. “And then I shall take your leave.”

The man nodded at you, and you swept inside, brushing past him before he could exit the house and relive his grief anew upon seeing his son’s body in the flesh. You had been there the first time; the second time, you thought, should be something private, belonging to him and him alone.

Sitting by a fire and covered in straw was the wretched woman that could only be the boy’s mother. She appeared worse than your own mother ever had, even in the hours before her death, and her chest rattled with every breath. Squatted by her side was a girl, likely half your age and hardly even a third of your weight, her hair lank and heavy around her shoulders, her cheeks flushed a pink that promised the plague had not clawed into her body yet.

“Hello,” you said. The mother did not move, but the girl looked up at you in a manner reminiscent of a puppy or a foal, a certain naïveté to her features, which resembled her brother’s so much that for a moment you were breathless.

“Hello,” she said. Her voice was a brittle murmur, and her lips barely moved when she spoke, but her eyes shimmered with a slight curiosity, widening when you knelt before her. “Who are you?”

“Your brother sent this for you,” you said, avoiding her question and handing the rabbit to her. She inhaled in delight, taking it from you swiftly and burying her nose in the fur around its neck before beaming at you.

“Really, he did? He always called me foolish when I told him I wanted a rabbit! Said that rabbits are wild creatures and only fairies can catch them,” she said, kissing the rabbit atop its ears. “Are you a fairy, miss? You have to be, right?”

“Certainly, I am not,” you said, kneeling on the stone of the floor and placing your hand against her cheek, which burned with the heat of the fire she was tending. “Dear girl, please remember that it was not a fairy who brought this rabbit to you — it was your brother, who loves you more than anything.”

She still did not know about any of it. She did not know that her brother was dead and her mother was all but. She only saw the object of her desires encircled in her arms, so she was, at least for now, happy, and you could not bear to steal that happiness from her, not when you knew that you how fleeting it was.

“Okay,” she said gravely. “I’ll remember it well. Mama, look! It’s a rabbit. You like rabbits, Mama, so please wake up and look at it.”

“Your mother is resting,” you said when she bent to shake her mother awake. “You should not bother her.”

“She’s always resting,” the girl said. “And if she speaks, it’s only to say that she’s cold.”

“Is that what the straw is for?” you said. Even if she wasn’t sick, you’d have agreed with the woman; you, too, found it to be growing colder out than it ever had in the past, but she had been cursed with the plague, and so it must have been tenfold worse for her than it ever could be for you. 

“Yes, it’s the best we have,” she said. “My brother, father, and I share the blanket because we don’t sleep near the fire, and so we only have straw left to warm her. I think I’m going to start working soon as well, and hopefully then I’ll be able to buy the best blanket in the world for her.”

There would be nowhere that would hire her in time for her to give her mother a blanket, except as a burial shroud, so you undid the clasp of your cloak and draped it over the woman’s body. She did not acknowledge you, but you saw her shoulders fall into an exhale, and you knew it was her form of thanks. The girl gazed at you in wonder, her eyes settling on the gooseflesh which pimpled your upper arms without the protection of the cloak, and then she returned her attention to her mother, whose expression was a degree less distraught with the added shield you had provided.

“Not now, and not for some years to come, but when you are old enough, come to the L/N manor,” you said. “You will find work there.”

Outside of the house, her father was digging, and on the ground beside him was a heap of canvas that no doubt disguised her brother. The girl followed you towards your horse, lips pursuing as you used a nearby tree stump to remount.

“How? It’s impossible to be employed there. All my family’s tried, but they’re ever-full,” she said.

“They will admit you, as long as you bring that cloak with you,” you said. “And if you tell them that Princess Y/N sent you.”

Her lips parted in awe, and the rabbit’s nose twitched as you smiled at her, as kindly as you could. In a few hours, she might despise you — after all, you had been the one to bring her brother back, and even if she never learnt of the role you had played in his death, she might resent you for that fact alone — but for now, you were someone she admired, the princess who had come from the manor and left her with a cloak and a rabbit and a promise.

Without your cloak, it was brutally cold, and you soon grew more preoccupied with trying to warm yourself in some way than with guiding the horse home. And although it was tamer than the rest, your current mount still belonged to your father in the end — it was not of the same reliable temperament as your own mare, who would’ve doggedly brought you back to the stables. As you slumped further and further into the saddle, your vision swimming, the horse only halted in the middle of the field you had somehow ended up in, unsure of what to do without a rider’s direction.

“You are a surprising person, Y/N L/N,” a soft voice said, and then someone was prying the reins out of your hands and taking them over your horse’s head. You would’ve been frightened, but though your eyesight was blurred, you knew who it was as soon as he spoke. “Foolish and surprising in turn.”

“Kaiser,” you said. “How are you here? Where did you go earlier? I thought my uncle might find you, but you weren’t there…”

“Don’t concern yourself with such trivial matters. They are beyond your understanding,” he said, clicking his tongue to encourage the horse forward. “I came here for you because earlier, you came for me, no matter how unnecessary it may have been. That’s all that matters.”

“Aren’t you cold?” you said, leaning forwards, collapsing against the horse’s crest, too tired to hold yourself up properly. “I’m cold.”

“I know,” he said. “You’ve been cold for a while, haven’t you?”

“I suppose so,” you said. For a moment, there was silence, and when he finally spoke again, his tone was tinged with melancholy.

“I wish that you were more like your father,” he said.

“Hm,” you said drowsily. “Why?”

“I want to condemn you,” he said. “Curse you. Rebuke you. Damn you.”

“And you cannot?” you said.

“I can,” he said. “All too easily.”

“Then?” you said.

“Then nothing,” he said. “It’s only that it makes me feel strange when it shouldn’t.”

“Strange,” you said. “What a vague word.”

“I cannot explain it further,” he said. “So don’t ask me to.”

“I see,” you said, though really you didn’t — you only did not want to upset him when he was the only savior you had. “Wait, Kaiser, you must know — there is a viper, one of the ones from the flood, it’s in the fields and it might yet strike. I am not sure if it is the only one of its kind, as well.”

“No vipers will dare cross my path,” he said, a laugh trickling into the cadence of his speech. “Not while I have this sword at my side.”

“Even now, you have it?” you said, your eyes closed against the light. 

“Yes,” he said. “I cannot sheathe it yet.”

“What does that mean?” you said.

“It is meaningless,” he said. “You ought to be silent, lest you waste what meager amounts of energy your body has managed to retain thus far.”

You weren’t sure how much longer the two of you walked for, but suddenly you were by the stables and there was a clamor and you were falling off the horse’s shoulder, into the arms of one of the stablehands. He was speaking in a panicked rush, commanding someone to fetch your uncle and another to send word to your father before asking you something, his voice harsh and breathy, nothing at all like Kaiser’s needle-precise words. You would’ve answered, but the slight rocking motions of his gait were enough to lull you into a sleep before you could even understand what his question was in the first place.

The stablehand must’ve carried you to your room, for when you awoke, you were in your bed and the sun had set. Your father sat at your desk, a lamp lighting the letters he was writing. Wrinkling your nose and then wiggling your fingers and toes to regain some feeling in them, you yawned, sitting up with a rustle of the sheets.

“Father,” you said, your mouth cottony from sleep. “You’ve returned?”

“Y/N?” your father said, dropping his quill and jumping to his feet, racing over to your side and catching your hand in between his own, holding it to his forehead. “Oh, Y/N, you must swear never to do something so idiotic again. I was so frightened — I thought — I thought you might never wake again.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Why would you go riding without dressing for the weather?” he said. “And without at least asking for someone to accompany you?”

“I’m sorry, father. I wasn’t thinking,” you said again, because you knew without a shadow of a doubt that you could not tell him the truth behind your escapade, or he might find some way to penalize the family who had not been at fault and had already lost so much.

“You’re lucky that that horse was so intelligent,” he said.

“What do you mean?” you said.

“It managed to find its way back to the stables even with you all but unconscious on its back,” he said.

“No, someone led me home,” you said. “A servant.”

Your father furrowed his brow. “Ah, what do you mean? There was no one.”

“There was, I’m sure of it!” you said.

“Nobody saw anyone leading you back, daughter,” he said. “You must’ve been having visions from delirium. It’s not uncommon for those who have been so compromised.”

“Visions,” you said. “I suppose there is that explanation.”

“Setting that aside, how do you feel now?” he said.

“Much improved,” you said.

“A night’s rest will do you well,” he said. “We can speak again in the morning, yes?”

“Yes, that sounds appealing,” you said. “Goodnight, father.”

Oftentimes he, like the rest of his siblings, had a somber and unyielding expression upon his angular face, but never when he looked at you — because when he laid eyes upon you, he was no longer the prince of the kingdom. He was only your father, the man who had half-created you and loved you more than he had ever loved anything or anyone, excepting, of course, your mother.

Maybe it was because you had slept half of the day away, but the next morning, you were awake even before the sun. You lay in your bed for a moment, willing sleep to take you once more, but when it became evident that it had fled from your grasp for good, you pushed your blankets to the side and stood on shaky legs, finding comfort in the consistency of readying yourself for the day.

You had none of your usual composure when you entered the chapel. The moment you saw Kaiser standing with his hands laced together and his face tilted towards the sun, your heart skipped an irrational beat, and then you picked your way towards where he stood, careful not to slip on the precious stones of the floor, which today seemed to be more treacherous than usual.

When you reached his side, you were not sure of what to say, so you opted for the truth, however blunt. “I dreamt of you yesterday.”

“I’m flattered,” he said, in that same amused way he said everything, his every word a private joke you could never be in on. 

“You saved me,” you continued. “If it hadn’t been for you, I would’ve died.”

“You wouldn’t have died regardless,” he said dismissively. At first, you raised your eyebrows, because how was it that he always said such things with such conviction that you could not help but believe in them? Who was he to inspire such faith in you? Then, before you could lose your nerve, you embraced him, your arms around his neck and fingers dangling in the space between his shoulder blades, his thrumming heartbeat reverberating through your bones like a hymn.

Many seconds passed wherein he was motionless, a being made from stone, before, slowly, hesitantly, he pulled you even closer to him, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other arm wrapping around your waist so that you did not crumble. He was hot like a hearth, his skin blazing with the kind of warmth you had not felt in so long that tears sprang to your eyes.

“You saved me,” you insisted, weeping in earnest, wishing that there was some way you could stay by his side forever and then wondering where such a desire could even have sprung from. “Even if you were only a vision conjured by my mind, I know that I would never have made it home were it anyone else I saw. Had it been anyone but you, I would’ve been lost until the end.”

“Enough wailing,” he said, but it was devoid of the typical thorniness. “Y/N L/N. Stop it.”

“I cannot,” you said. 

“Pathetic girl,” he said; however, for the first time, you detected a hint of wavering in his voice. “Pathetic, idiotic girl. If only there were a way I could un-know you. If only it were possible for me to forget you entirely.”

“Don’t,” you said. “Please don’t.”

“I won’t,” he said. “If I were capable of it, I would’ve done so long ago, but as I haven’t, it can only mean that I never will.”

Somehow, you returned to the manor before anyone could raise an alarm at your second disappearance. Joining your father and uncle at the table for breakfast, avoiding your uncle’s greeting and sitting next to your father, you realized that it was not a miracle that you had escaped notice; rather, it was that everyone was supremely concerned with the letter your father was scanning, storms swirling in his eyes as he read it over.

“They’re summoning us,” he said, a second later. “Oh, Y/N, you’re here. Good.”

“Who is?” you said.

“My brother the king,” he said. “There’s been a prophecy. Very soon — in two weeks or even less — the queen will be dead.”

All of you set off at once, your father and uncle riding ahead, leaving you to cocoon yourself in a nest of furs atop the cushioned bench of the carriage. The guard from before, the handsome one with the hair like fox-hide, was requisitioned to accompany you, and so he sat across from you instead of riding in the company of your father and his retainers. You were the one who had asked for him specifically; he was kind and familiar to you, so in such a terrifying moment, you preferred his stalwart nature to any other’s.

“Tell me again,” you said, your voice muffled by the squirrel pelt wrapped around your neck and chin. “What did that prophet see?”

The guard did not know any more than you did, but in the monotony of the carriage ride, there were few other things you could occupy yourself with besides the obsessive question-and-answer game that you played with him. He was happy to follow along, or, if he was not happy, then at least he did as you asked without much complaint.

“Three things,” the guard said, holding up his right hand, the white calluses standing out against the pink of his palms. “Firstly, an eagle fell from its nest and broke its wings.”

“A clear omen against the L/Ns,” you said. “Eagles represent royalty, so for one to fall and lose its ability to fly in such a way…”

“Yes,” the guard agreed. “Secondly, upon reading the entrails of a sow, it was determined that the eagle was referencing a woman in particular.”

“And if it is a woman, then it could only be the queen,” you said.

“Correct, your highness,” he said. He could not see it, but you smiled at him — just barely, for you had not had enough to drink during your journey, so your lips were cracking from dehydration, and you did not rest well anymore, so you were constantly weary. “And finally, they consulted the mirrors, whereupon they saw death from disease tarnishing the pureness of the silver.”

“So they combined the symbols and divined that she would perish from the illness which has plagued her, as it once did my mother,” you said. “I wonder if it is worse or better to be aware that your death is approaching.”

“I suppose she must have known already, don’t you think?” he said. “In the moments before her death, your mother saw the angel Michael. I am sure the queen has had such a visitor as well.”

“Perhaps,” you said. “Though then again, I doubt that he would make appearances so frequently.”

“If he came to escort your mother, then would he not come for the queen? Forgive me for being candid, but it’s true that the queen’s station is far loftier than mother’s was,” he said.

“It’s alright. You’re not wrong, but even then,” you said, and then you sighed, sinking deeper into the plushness of your blankets. “Well, I don’t know. The affairs of angels are beyond you and I.”

“That’s true,” he said. You screwed your eyes shut, colorful spots painting the blackness behind your eyelids, the world spinning peculiarly, in a manner which was unrelated to the swaying of the carriage wheels.

“I think I will sleep now, sir,” you said. “If you do not mind very much.”

“I am only here to do as you command, your highness,” he said. “If you wish to sleep, then by all means, please sleep. I will wake you if anything happens.”

The journey to the castle was longer for you than it was for the riders, who could take narrower paths and cut across fallen trees and flooded bridges that the carriage needed to circumvent. By the time you reached, there was already a procession underway, and as the guard helped you towards the church, holding onto your hand and shoulders so that you could walk, you had to be wary of the spectators to the parade, who were shoving one another so that they could have the best possible view.

“They’re praying. For the queen’s health, and for the end of the plague,” you said, coughing hard enough that your chest ached from it, covering your mouth with your hand in shame, for you had been coughing more and more frequently as of late.

When you removed your hand, you noticed that there was something wet and wine-colored speckling it, and right when you were about to reach an understanding you should’ve come to long ago, a man’s shoulder rammed into your side, knocking you off-balance. Only your guard’s quick reflexes were enough to catch you, and he picked you up before such an accident could be repeated, taking care to push the man away rougher than he really needed to when he passed.

“Are you alright?” he said.

“Yes,” you said, half in a daze, the image of your stained hand imprinted in your mind. “Can you hear what they are saying, sir? Are they begging for forgiveness?”

“They are,” he said. “They’re repenting in the hopes that there will be mercy.”

“It’s late for that,” you said. “For me, anyways. But maybe the rest of you can still be saved.”

“What do you mean by that?” he said. Without you to slow the guard down, the two of you covered ground at twice the earlier speed, and you reached the steps of the church before the throngs of worshippers could. You saw them coming, the gathered masses of people, with the king and your father and the queen at the forefront of it all, and then you coughed again, because until you had seen that blood you hadn’t comprehended it, but now you did. “Why don’t you include yourself amongst our ranks, princess?”

“What is your name, sir?” you said.

“Kunigami, your royal highness,” he said. “Are you quite alright?”

“Kunigami,” you said, clenching the fabric of his tunic in your fists. “Kunigami, it’s not cold out today, is it?”

“No,” he said. “No, princess, it’s not. It’s mild and lovely.”

“It hasn’t been,” you said, and then you were crying, because you were afraid. You were more afraid then you ever had been, and you only had this bewildered boy to comfort you — and what slim comfort he provided! He, who was meant to be your staunchest defender but could never defend you from this. “It hasn’t been cold in many months, has it?”

“No,” he said. “Actually, it’s been rather warm. This year marks the warmest summer we’ve had since the time of the last king, or so I’m told.”

“The warmest summer?” you said. “I see now. I see. Oh, oh, Kunigami, you must go and fetch my father at once.”

“You are confounding me, your highness,” he said. “What is the matter?”

“Please bring my father,” you said. “Please, I don’t — I don’t want to be alone when it happens.”

Your poor father — some higher power had decided he deserved this. Your father, who was cruel, who killed and conquered, who was the horrible prince of the kingdom. Your father, who had already lost your mother. Your father, who would soon lose you.

“I don’t understand even now what you mean,” Kunigami said, setting you on the steps and straightening his shirt. “But I will do as you say. Wait here.”

He charged down the stairs, cutting through the crowds effortlessly with his imposing presence. You watched him go before turning back to the church, marveling at the building, the white pillars and the silvery dome which shone in the sky like a daytime moon. Statues of angels and muses lined the roof, and across the facade, there were words engraved. You could hardly read them, but you knew by heart what was written: On this mountain, I shall build my home, and thereupon I will give you the keys with which to reach me.

You didn’t know when your legs buckled, but they must’ve, for suddenly you were lying prone on the stairs, the stone freezing against your face, and although it was hardly the place for it, you found your tucking your fists under your forehead, exhaling and thinking of how sublime it would be to drift off now, drift off and not wake up for many hours or days…

“Y/N L/N.” The voice was the same, but there was something else behind it. Never had he spoken with such strength and such sadness in combination; his typical apathy had been chased away entirely, replaced with a fond if not distant pity. “I told you that you would not be alone. Did I not?”

Hands like embers held your face carefully, thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he tugged your jaw up so that you could look at him. You hardly had the strength to lift your head — how had you not known that it was coming? How had you ignored the symptoms of your own condition? Was it that you did not want to know it and so you refused to recognize the simple fact which had been looming over you for months now? But ignoring it did not make it go away. Ignoring it did not make it false. Ignoring it did not change the truth of the matter: that you were dying, that you had been dying for a long time now.

“Kaiser,” you said. He appeared different, though you could not place it; there was something hazy and golden about him, but regardless you were assured that it was him and no other. 

“Some know me by that name,” he said. “Most do not.”

“What do you mean?” you said.

“Michael!” It was your father who was screaming the name, and when you shifted, you realized he was doing his best to run towards you, though your uncles held him back, shock reflecting in their faces as your father bawled. “Michael, divine lord, don’t take her, too. Anybody else, be it the queen, my brothers — even me! Kill me, kill the entire kingdom if you must, but leave Y/N. Spare her, and I will repent! I will change my ways, and I will force the others to change as well. Spare her and I will do whatever you ask — but please, please spare her.”

“You should’ve come to this conclusion longer ago,” Kaiser said, and though he spoke at a regular volume, his voice rang through the square like he had shouted. “The time for begging is long gone. The plague will continue until all of you are dead. By my sword, I swear—”

“Michael,” you said. He was silent immediately, and you fought to keep your eyes open. Noticing your lowering your eyelashes against the sun, he reflexively spread his wings to cover you in shade, allowing you to admire him in full for the first time. “Has it been you all along?”

“Yes,” he said, a soft breeze running through his feathers and ruffling his hair. “Yes, it has been.”

“My mother was right,” you said. “You really are as beautiful as the paintings. Though, you were right as well. There is nothing resembling serenity in your expression.”

To your surprise, he chuckled, though there was a distinct tinge of sorrow behind it, so that it was as similar to a sob as it was to a laugh. Something moist splashed onto your face, and at first you thought he, too, was crying, but then you realized it came from his sword, which he brandished even now. Blood, that was what it was, the source of those sanguine stains which were now animated and lively, weeping down the length of the blade and dripping onto the white marble beneath his feet.

“Of course there is not,” he said. “When there is so much injustice in this world, how can I ever be serene?”

“You brought this plague upon us,” you said. “And the snakes, and the flood.”

“I did,” he said. “It was divine will. In the face of it, even I am powerless.”

“By your sword,” you said. “Is that why you hold it before you always?”

“How intelligent you are,” he said. “Oh, if only it were not you.”

“But you can stop it,” you said. “If you deem us worthy of being saved, you can prevent anyone else from dying.”

“Not you,” he said. “It’s too late. Even if I do that, I cannot save you. Not this time.”

“That’s alright,” you said. “You needn’t save me again. Once was enough. I’ve not done anything to be deserving of a second time.”

“No,” he said firmly. “You are the only one who I want to save. If you are lost, then there is nobody worthy of surviving. What have any of the rest ever proved to me? What goodness have they ever shown? What virtue or introspection? They are all brutes, and so they have earned it.”

“I cannot say whether that is true or not,” you said. “I don’t know about anyone else. But if even one other person like me exists and your inaction kills them, too, then will you ever be forgiven?”

“I am an angel,” he said. “I seek no forgiveness. I have not done anything to necessitate it.”

“I will not forgive you,” you said. 

“What does it mean?” he said. “What will any of it mean once you are gone?”

Your father had fallen to ground, repeating every prayer he had ever been taught, and even your uncle the king, who was typically stolid in the face of adversity, who had not placed a foot wrong the entire time he had thought his wife was the one prophesied to die, had tears shimmering in his eyes.

“Forgive them,” you said, and then, to your surprise, Michael, or Kaiser, or whichever name you called him, for it was irrelevant when they were all in reference to this singularly grand being — was dropping to his knees and tenderly taking your head so that it could rest on his lap. “As I will forgive you, forgive them. Please.”

Nobody even breathed. Every single body in the kingdom was stationary; the rabbits, the dormice, the people and the snakes, all of them waited to see what he would do. For a moment, it was nothing, and after that he merely hunched over and pressed his lips to your temple, his wings arcing to cover your body from any who might dare to glance at it.

“Very well, then,” he said. “I cannot save you, Y/N L/N, so this time, without riddles nor fuss, I will oblige you.”

A small smile graced his face, albeit an anguished one more characteristic of men than of angels, and as one blazing hand grew hotter and hotter against your rapidly-cooling cheek, he raised his sword in the air; then, for the first time since the plague had begun, he sheathed it.

[delcakoo]

pity party ₊˚ރ⊹゛p.sh

SUMMARY ! when everyone forgets sunghoon’s birthday, he ends up finding comfort from a warmhearted stranger on the bus ride home.

PAIRING ! stranger!sunghoon x gn!reader

WC ! 800

GENRE ! fluff, slight angst and comforting sad hoon :c

a/n: sorry it’s short, just a lil’ thing for our birthday boy <3

sunghoon’s eyes were getting watery, and he hated that. a lot.

his birthday isn’t a big deal, he isn’t twelve anymore; he should just be grateful for what he has, wipe away his cascading tears and man the hell up.

but as he slides onto the public bus and scans down the aisle full of exhausted college students, old drunkards, and middle aged mother’s gossiping on calls with their kids fidgeting frantically next to them, he can’t find himself caring when all their eyes lock onto his teary red face, pink bottom lip trembling as he sniffles every few seconds.

he makes his way down the column of busy seats, mindlessly plopping down onto the first free one he comes across. and at last, he reaches his hand up, wiping the salty droplets off his puffy cheeks sorrowfully.

god, he was being such a wimp.

before he could beat himself up any further, a hesitant soft voice abruptly interrupts him. “are.. are you okay?”

sunghoon whips his head to his left, brows rising at the sight of soft eyes glistening with worry and concern towards him, despite being a complete stranger.

you were attiring a puffy winter coat and a bright green scarf, one hand gripping onto the tote bag resting carefully by your chocolate shaded boots.

he gulps and wipes his face again, feeling even more humiliated with his current state. “y-yeah, thanks,” he barely voices out.

sunghoon watches in his peripheral vision as you continue to examine him, clearly having an inner debate on if you should leave the conversation at that. he almost began crying again at how cute you look in such deep thought.

you swallow, “what happened, if i may ask? ur— i mean, you don’t have to tell me obviously, but if you—“

“it’s okay,” he assures with a small smile. “it’s kinda stupid, anyway. just.. all- all my friends n’ stuff.. they forgot my birthday.” your eyes widen, heart breaking into pieces at his painful tone. “i mean, i don’t even care, seriously. i don’t know why i’m crying because it’s really not a big deal.”

it seems you could easily tell he was trying to convince himself more than you.

it’s silent for a beat, nothing but sunghoon’s faint sniffling surrounding the bus until you hesitantly reach over, placing your hand on top of his cold, shaky one. your fingers rub his knuckles, gently calming his distress with comforting glances.

sunghoon didn’t realise how touch starved he was; throat getting clogged as he bites his lip to prevent letting out another pitiful sob, watching the way your touches feather him as if he were a fragile vase.

suddenly, you speak up again rather confidently. “can i give you my number?”

he chokes, looking back up with widened eyes. “w-what?”

“so we can make a plan for tomorrow,” you explain. “for your birthday.”

you, a complete stranger that had just met him on probably one of the worst days of his life, wanted to celebrate his birthday with him? tomorrow?

before he can stop to think, he’s already pulled his phone out, dropping it into your grasp mindlessly as you begin making a new contact. sunghoon peers closely as you type in your name with a bus and crying emoji next to it, letting out a chuckle of disbelief.

at the sound of laughter you look up, grinning proudly once you finally see his fanged smile. “you’re going to have the best birthday ever tomorrow…?” you look at him in question.

“sunghoon.”

“well sunghoon, i’m a master at baking cakes, specifically birthday cakes with chocolate fudge,” you declare, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

sunghoon doesn’t even like chocolate.

but at that moment he decides it’ll be his new favourite flavour in the world.

as he opens his mouth to reply and show his gratitude, the bus driver boisterously announces the next stop.

“shit,” you mutter, frantically standing up from your seat. “i’m so sorry, i wish i could’ve stayed with you longer, but this is my stop.” your face reflected genuine affliction; not wanting the poor boy to be alone just as he was for the rest of his special day.

sunghoon shakes his head, “no, no it’s fine. you- you already made me feel way better.”

your face brightens a bit, nodding as you achingly wave goodbye. “see you tomorrow.” you turn away, walking right to the front of the bus, tote bag hanging on your shoulder and wooly green scarf still tightly around your neck.

it felt like a last goodbye, like everything was in slow motion watching you leave him, even though he’d be seeing you tomorrow.

but right before you descend down the stairs, you gasp, turning around and making the other passengers frown in annoyance as you block their way.

“hey sunghoon!” you shout across the bus without a care in the world.

the boy in question gawks as you stare him down, eyes shimmering and a fond smile rushing to your chapped lips. “happy birthday!”

sunghoon’s eyes get watery again, but he hates it a bit less this time.

if you enjoyed, reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

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[wheresmymilliondollarman]

pls ANYTHING with Aaron Warner. I'm literally living for him and I love your writing.

never go out of style

aaron warner x fem! reader

after a bit of convincing, you decide to let aaron join you and juliette shopping. maybe you should've thought twice on that.

(no specific timeline, but kind of hinted towards after the series ends)

a/n: dw bff i understand ur obsession 🫶ik you guys are waiting for pt 2 of my other aaron work but i'm having some issues with it so i wanted to whip up a quick lil fic for you guys and it also helps with my writing blocks. also in this they all kinda of live together in a base like location still. shorter than my other stuff but hope you enjoy and tysm for supporting my work !!! again i envision hayden as aaron but fancast who u like !!

word count: 3.1k

warnings: clingy aaron, suggestive content, aaron and juliette banter, some grammar errors probably

the sun peaked from the window of your room, shining a light directly toward where you slept peacefully on the bed.

your peace was disrupted by a loud ringing sound coming from your clock on the night stand.

you groaned as you began regaining consciousness from your deep slumber. with your still bleary vision you glanced at the clock, 9 am. you rubbed your eyes and let out a yawn, knowing it was time to get up for the day.

you pulled yourself up into a sitting position, only to be brought back down by a strong arm next to you – face pulled forward into a broad bare chest. for a moment you’d forgotten about your sleeping boyfriend next to you.

“mm, no.” mumbles the man next to you. to make his point cleaer, he slid you closer and nuzzled his face into your neck and naked shoulder comfortably.

both you and aaron rarely ever slept with shirts on. it wasn’t always due to inherently sexual reasons, more-so it’s for aaron’s sake because he’d always make a huge fuss about the fabrics getting in the way of your skins touching directly. aaron is a huge fan of touch, well only your touch. anyone else’s he’d be disgusted by.

much to your bewilderment, he originally wanted to the both of you to slumber bare. much protest came from you for various reasons, including in the case of an emergency everyone needed to evacuate swiftly, the two of you could potentially land in a horribly embarrassing situation.

so, you both settled for a tops off only kind of deal. you were lucky he even let you sleep with your bra on. although, when he was needy or wanted to be a cheeky bastard, he’d take it off in your sleep.

“aaron…” you said in a knowing tone. he was like this almost every morning where you attempted to get out of bed with him. it was really cute, but also really annoying when you had to be somewhere, like right now.

“sorry can’t hear you, very tired. maybe try again in an hour or two.” aaron was very obviously not asleep; but he’s avoiding your pleas of freedom.

you rolled your eyes at his behavior. you couldn’t wait any longer or you’d be late to meet with juliette. so you begun to try and push a hand against aaron’s chest to free yourself of his cuddle prison.

aaron in reaction only squeezed you impossibly tighter. you weren’t weak in strength in any means, but if it’s a competition between you and him; he’ll win everytime.

“c’mon baby, i got places to go.” you tried to coo him into releasing you with a pet name. aaron absolutely loved when you used pet names for him.

“shhh… teddy bears don’t speak.” aaron responds, and puts a finger over your lips for emphasis. man, he was really stubborn this morning.

with the way you are being held hostage, you thought being called a teddy bear wasn’t far off.

that leaves you to your last resort — puppy dog eyes.

you look up at aaron and give him your best pleading eyes, “you know i’d love nothing more than to just stay in bed with you, but please aaron, i really do have to leave.” you plant a quick peck on his lips for extra effect.

aarons eyes soften, you could see he was almost cracking and close into relinquishing his hold on you. so close.

but then the tables turn, he gives you a sad look before saying, “you’re always gone these days doing something with juliette or kenji, is it so bad that i just wish to spend some time with you even if it’s just sleeping in our bed.”

crap, he did a reserve and now pulled puppy dog eyes on you. and worst part is it was working, especially with the sad little voice he was giving.

although, his statement wasn’t all that true, you spend more than enough time with aaron, and barely enough with your friends. but of course in his dramatic mind, any few hours that aren’t spent together felt like a week to him. but you doubt you could even properly compute this argument back to aaron, not while he was looking at you like an injured animal.

juliette was going to kill you for your next words, “how about you come along with me today then.”

aaron face changes tune immediately — a big grin makes it way onto his face. he pulls your face to his and plants various pecks all over your face, making you giggle at his excitement.

it was really hard for you to deny warner at times, he could be really convincing. or maybe you were just easily susceptible to his puppy dog antics.

“well, what are you waiting for, let’s get ready.”

aaron finally releases you and moves to get up from the bed. not even giving you a moment to stretch, he goes on to your side of the mattress and in one movement scoops you you in his arms and walks in the direction to the bathroom.

aaron made quick work of putting you on the counter and getting the water facet to the shower head turned on. he was obviously very eager to join you on whatever you and juliette were going to do.

the two of you showered together. aaron being the clingy man he is, loves when you bith shower together. he likes to wash and scrub your hair for you, lathering it in soap and shampoo. you admit that’s your favorite part because it tends to feel like a nice head massage.

however, showering together can be inconvenient at times because you are sometimes in a rush or just rather be alone. but then he gives you a sad face and you feel bad. even when you try to do it alone while he’s busy, he will manage to worm his way into your space.

aaron helped dry you both off and, ever the fashionista he is, even picked out an outfit for you to wear. he has a habit of doing that, and you can’t deny the pieces he chooses are fabulous.

if you both happen to subtly match, like right now, he’ll claim it was a coincidence — which you do not believe there is any coincidence with that man.

you left to meet up with juliette while aaron finished getting ready, so you could tell her the slight change in your plans for the day.

juliette was longing on her phone in the common place when you saw her. once she noticed you she git up and approached you.

“hey, you ready to go?” julietted asked you as she got her purse from the place she was sitting before.

you chuckled nervously, “uh, you see, about that-“

“so where are we headed off to?” a voice intercepted, wrapping an arm around your shoulder .

your boyfriend had perfect timing as usual.

juliette didn’t let the ‘we’ go unnoticed.

she furrowed her brows, “im, sorry did you just say we?” giving you a quick glance in confirmation.

“oh, y/n didnt tell you i was joining you ladies on whatever it is your doing?” aaron questioned with fame in innocence laced in his voice.

the smug jerk definitely knew you hadn’t got to that yet.

juliette turned her gaze toward you, making a discontented face, “no. it seems she hadn’t informed me of this.”

you winced and gave her a sheepish shrug, trying to say ‘sorry i’m taking my boyfriend along and im springing it up on you right now cus he didn’t even give me a chance to tell you.’

juliette rolled her eyes, "does he even know what we're doing?" she raised a brow in a questioning manner.

aaron once again decided to butt in, looking down in your direction, "yeah, i'd also like to know what it is the three of us are out to do today." putting extra emphasis on the three, likely to annoy juliette further.

oh god. it just dawned on you what juliette and yourself had planned to do today. you realized how much a catastrophe this was a bout to be.

you glanced at juliette, who you deemed also had come to this conclusion.

you turned to face aaron, "we're going shopping."

an hour later.

"nope. absolutely not, change."

you rolled your eyes, you were so close to strangling the beautiful man that was aaron warner. if he spewed out one more opinion on your fashion choices, you were gonna lose your mind.

just as you expected. disaster. you really should've known better than to bring bring along your very honest boyfriend who happens to be obsessed with fashion himself.

in theory, it sounded cute, trying on clothes and showing your best friend and boyfriend all the cute outfits. the avergae boyfriend would say you look great in anything, making you all giddy and happy.

but you didn't have the average boyfriend, you had aaron warner.

to his credit, he had behaved himself on the car ride over (only after stubbornly refusing to drive anything that wasn't his BMW.) he even kept his comments to himself when you entered the store.

the moment you picked up an item of clothing, it was as if the crack in the dam of his mind had finally broken. he started spewing every possible critique that he thought of.

"no, that color will wash you out."

"it's cute you think i'll let you go out like that."

"put that horrendous looking shirt down down and walk away."

"im saying this as a loving boyfriend, are you blind, or do you actually think that's wearable."

juliette was in no way spared from his fashion "advice."

"i'm shooting myself if you pick up another pair of denim blue-jeans."

"i hope your horrible sense of fashion isn't contagious."

both you and juliette ignored him to an extent, she occasionally snarkily replied and then picked something he would hate purposely. aaron eventually gave up on as he put "salvaging the one good percent of juliette's closet" and focused all his attention toward you, much to your misfortune.

you loved aaron's sense of fashion, you really did, but you didn't find it very enjoyable everytime you picked up an item you thought was cute, just for him to snatch it from your grasp

another thing, when it was time to try on your items - aaron refused to wait outside the dressing room, he was very persistent on getting in the dressing rooms with yo he even told the worked in charge of the fitting rooms 'it was nothing he hadn't seen before.'

you gave him smack on the arm for that suggestive remark.

so, now the two of you were cramped into a small dressing room, not that aaron minded - the closer the two of you were, the better.

you did enjoy how he doted on you - zipping up your dressing, helping you put on and remove clothes, planting a small kiss on the top of your shoulder whenever you were dressed.

he would sit down on the small chair in the dressing room and take in your attire, "now give me a little twirl." he teasingly commanded manner.

you shook your head with a grin, then spun around in the flowy fabric of the light pink sundress you were trying on, adorned with small flower embrodiery - it was an "aaron approved" dress on the rack of course.

when you met with his eyes again, he looked as if he were in a trance, hypnotized by your entire being. he was enticed by the clothing that draped you, examining it thoroughly. your face flamed up under his loving gaze.

"well, what do you think?" you asked a bit anxiously, since he hadn't uttered a word since the clothing was put on you.

it was ridiculous to be nervous about your boyfriend's approval, but alas, you couldn't help it when the boyfriend in question is aaron warner.

he was brought back by your soft voice and stared up to you, putting a hand on your hip - bringing you closer to him.

"i think..." he paused, standing up from the small cushion, and cupping your face with his hands, "we should buy it in every color they have."

aaron then started sloppily covering your face in kisses, each one after the next. you attempt to weakly push him away, not putting much force into it.

"aaron you're going to smudge my makeup!" you cooly scolded.

aaron looks down to you, leaning his face closer to yours, "my love, if i always cared about smudging your makeup, i'd never be able to kiss you." he replies smoothly.

little moments like this truly made all of the mayhem of the day worth it. mostly.

"now, love, hurry up and try the next one on. i chose that one myself."

"but juliette hasn't even seen this one yet." you brought up your best friend, who was trying on her on choices a few doors down.

"who cares what juliette's opinion is, her fashion taste is a worn out t-shirt and jeans." aaron sassily retorted.

"i heard that you asshole!" juliette bellowed over to aaron from the inside of her dressing room.

aaron remains unfazed by her disruption, "ignore her, put on the next one."

you give aaron a glare at his behavior to juliette, but comply go to the door in your room to get the piece he keeps referring to.

you gape at the fabric hung before you, doing a double-take to ensure you had seen it correctly. oh you're boyfriend was sly.

you hold the clothing in your hand and turn to face him, "aaron, this is lingerie."

he smirks, "i suppose it is."

heat was beginning to rise from your neck to your cheeks, you played it off with a scoff, "i'm not changing into this unless you turn around."

aaron gives you a disapproving look, as if to say 'seriously?' - "nothing i haven't seen before."

"just turn!" you scolded at him.

"alright love, no need to get so feisty." he teased then finally turn his back to you. you hated when he teased you terribly. you almost gave him a smack on his back for that, but decided against it.

you started removing the clothing on your body, reminding yourself to show juliette the dress later. you grabbed the lingerie aaron picked, it was green colored lace two piece set - the top had lace on the cups, a corset like style for the waist with 3 light green ribbons going down, and a mesh fabric with lace trimming the edges draped from the bottom of your rib area and covered your butt almost fully. the underwear was a simple lace thong the same color as the top.

it was beautiful, and you shouldn't have expected any less since your loving fashion expert boyfriend chose it.

once the lingerie was on, you looked at yourself in the long vertical mirror placed in the center of the room.

you admit you thought you look pretty good in the set. you had a few nightwear pieces, but those looked plain in comparison to the on you had on.

your noticed aaron's back in the mirror and suddenly remembered he was waiting for you to put on the lingerie.

your smooths down the top with your hands, then turned to aaron's direction, "ok, you can turn around now."

aaron mutter a small 'finally' before twisting to see you. the first thing he did was stare at you, his jaw slacking and eyes widening.

he was silent for so long, you started to get insecure if he thought it looked bad on you. you nervously laugh, "do you like it or-"

the question went unfinished because in an instant aaron took one large step towards you, pushed you against the mirror and passionately kissed you. you were thrown so off guard, you stumbled with your feet, stabilizing yourself by placing you hands on aaron's shoulders.

aaron's hands started wandering down your body, leaving goosebumps on your skin. aaron's lips were almost devouring yourself, kissing you with need and eagerness.

you were the first to pull away for air with a grin, aaron's lips followed yours, not ready to end the kiss. you had to gently put a hand on the side of his face to pull him back enough to let you breathe.

the haze that was clouding you for a moment cleared - reminding yourself you still were in the dressing room.

the first thing you did was laugh, then ask, "so i'm gonna assume you like it?"

aaron leans his face towards your, pressing your foreheads together and whispers, "love, if we don't pack up and go pay soon, i'm going to commit some horrible acts to you right here in this dressing room."

later

"well, i can say with full confidence this was the worst shopping trip, in the history of shopping trips to ever exist." juliette announced to the entire car as she drove back to the base.

"maybe next time you shouldn't come along then." aaron retorted from the backseat where the both of you were seated. (aaron was insistent on both of you in the back instead of one in the passenger seat and one in the back seat.)

"you're the one who wasn't even suppose to come! y/n only brought you along because you're a clingy boyfriend."

"i don't know what you mean by that, i'm not clingy." aaron defended, crossing his arms over his chest, like a stubborn child would.

you couldn't help, but let out a small laugh, you tried covering up with a cough. aaron snapped his head in your direction, furrowing his brow, "do you think i'm clingy?"

"no- well, maybe a little.. but it's not a bad thing." you tried to reassure him. your boyfriend's clinginess could be a little much, but honestly the feeling of being loved so much by someone was worth any small inconveniences.

aaron tugs you closer to his seat, wrapping an arm around you. "well, it's not my fault i love you so much" he tells you, giving a small peck on your lips, "if anything i'm reeling in at least half of my clinginess."

you raise a brow at this, not quite believing that, "i can't imagine how you could possibly top your regular behavior."

"oh, i can always be much worse, love" he cockily says leaning his head down closer to yours.

juliette interrupted your shared moment with a comment, reminding you both of her presence in the front seat, "i'm gonna throw up from all this sappiness."

aaron as always was quick to come up with a cynical reply,"not our fault you and kent have the emotional connection of a brick."

"hey!"

[heesdreamer]

JUST BE

PAIRING ➩ sunghoon x reader

SUMMARY ➩ classic cliche bad boy x good girl reader paired for a class project but with a few modifications lol…

WARNINGS ➩ violence, injuries, sexual content, sunghoon is a dick head kinda, heeseung is DEFINITELY a dick head

WC ➩ 18k (almost dethroned skin on skin)

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ so this sat in my notes unfinished for months.. which i never stop a work halfway and im not sure why i did considering this flowed out of me after i picked it up again but it’s NOT PROOFREAD and mainly written at 3am i think you maybe know the drill if ur familiar with me and my work lol.. not my favorite but i like the dynamics and i hope you do too

College was almost too easy for you. You were constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, to get the mean professor or the class with they heavy workload that you ultimately failed when you couldn’t withstand the pressure.

But it hadn’t came and you were feeling extremely lucky that the universe had seemingly spared you, atleast for your first year.

You always took school seriously, maybe too serious according to some of your highschool friends but you felt pride when you got high praise and it calmed you to know your hard work granted better results.

Still, it wasn’t like you had become some grade obsessed monster who didn’t feel emotion outside of the urgency of a deadline.

Quite the opposite in your humble opinion. Another thing you prided yourself on was your constant good attitude. You liked to smile at peers in the hallway and help teachers tidy up after a long lecture. It made you feel good to be kind and bubbly despite the stress that sometimes ate away at you.

So it was almost an impossible sight for you classmates as they watched your current dilemma unfold, the other shoe dropping with a loud smack the echoed inside your head.

“Did you hear me Ms. Y/N? I said your partner for the semester is Park Sunghoon.” Your professor was croaking from directly in front of you, your preferred seating being the first row in the room.

You were sat frozen in your chair, hand gripped around your perfectly sharpened pencil so tight you could feel the wood croaking in your palm. You usual smiley face was blank and stony, zoning out into the space in front of you as you wished for it to swallow you whole.

“It’s not that big of a deal Y/N.” Jungwon, your closest friend, was grimacing as he looked at you, standing infront of you and titling his body so he could peer at your unmoving expression. He was waving a hand in front of your face like he was trying to snap you out of a trance.

“There’s no point in lying.” Your other, and more pessimistic, friend Riki was speaking now and you let his bored tone seep into your ear. “She’s fucked.”

This snapped you out of it, letting out a loud groan and slamming forward onto the table dramatically, Jungwon’s hand coming out just in time to stop you from slamming your forehead onto the hard wood.

“Okay let’s not get theatrical here.” He was sighing through a wince of pain as he wiggled his fingers against your forehead. You slightly lifted it so he could take his hand back before dropping it back down with another groan. “I mean how bad could it be? Have you ever even talked to him?”

You briefly considered these two questions.

How bad could it be? Try absolutely, without a doubt, entire academic career ruining level of bad.

His second question was a bit more difficult. You had technically spoken to Park Sunghoon on multiple occasions but you’re not quite positive he had even realized it was you he was talking to. He had a tendency to not particularly pay attention to the people around him, and especially not their feelings.

The first day you’d spoken to him was actually your first day in general. You’d walked into your first lesson with a bright smile, hair perfectly pinned back and clutching your books to your chest in excitement for new things to learn and people to interact with.

Said books you were clutching didn’t last more than a few seconds in your relaxed grip once Park Sunghoon entered the room, his eyebrows furrowed as he turned the corner before registering you were still standing there in an attempt to pick which seat you wanted. His large frame was smacking into your back and sending you, and all your supplies, sprawling across the floor.

He hadn’t helped you up, or even looked back in your direction to see if you’d been seriously injured.

Your next few interactions weren’t as dramatic or grand scale but you remembered each one and so did your friends, considering you spent months complaining about each and every single time he managed to ruin your perfectly good day.

“Do you remember when he said it looked like she had gum in her hair because she got those new hair pins?” Riki was remarking from your bed behind you, a slight amused tone in his voice at the memory of your angry red face tearing them out of your bangs at lunch.

“That wasn’t nearly as bad as the time he stole her essay idea, and then didn’t even do the essay.” Jungwon didn’t sound as amused as Riki did as he recounted the story. He was a sweet boy by nature, one of things you bonded over at the start of your friendship and he wasn’t the biggest fan of your classmate because of this.

You listened to them talk and felt yourself getting more and more agitated, something that was extremely rare for you to show visibly. You pushed your forehead deeper into the wood desk, wishing it would let you mesh atoms together so it could completely swallow you up.

The bad mood hadn’t subsided by the time your hangout was over and the boys were leaving your dorm, wishing you good luck in talking to Park Sunghoon.

Your current biggest problem was exactly that. Despite being almost certain you’d be doing all the project work yourself, something you didn’t mind considering you held doubt he knew a single fact about the subjects appointed to you , you still felt the obligatory need to extend the offer of working together.

However you were realizing now you had absolutely no idea where to find him. It was increasingly rare these days that he was actually in class, only seeing him sometimes showing up minutes after it had ended and talking in a hushed tone with the teacher. Those days you’d slowly pack your stuff into each neat folder, trying to catch a word of their conversation.

You never had any luck and then he’d be gone again, leaving your nosy curiosity completely unsatisfied.

You imagined you could send him a message on some form of social media but that would require following him first and the thought of him spending even 20 seconds in confusion about your sudden follow before you were able to send an explanation message made your stomach turn.

So you had decided that the next day you’d march into class and sit and wait for him after it had ended, unmoving in your seat and forcing him to communicate with you.

You’d gotten prepared the night before, running over your convincing speech and tightening your ponytail before you entered the classroom with a determined look on your normally bubbly face. Your plans were immediately deterred when you went to sit down and found him already there.

Park Sunghoon was not only in class but he was sat in your seat, manspreading carelessly with an extremely bored expression. You knew it had to be on purpose but you couldn’t recall a time where he’d ever paid enough attention to you to know where your seat was.

You faltered for a few seconds before annoyance took over again and you refreshed your attempt at a look of intimidation. You stomped your way over to the desk and placed your books down on it with a mild slam, wincing at the loud noise you’d accidentally caused.

He didn’t react to the sudden spike in volume but he slowly trailed his eyes from your books up your arms, stopping when he met your gaze to raise an eyebrow.

“I’m Y/N.” You blurted out and you stuck a hand in his direction, attempting to initiate a handshake. “I’m your partner for the semester.”

It was silent for a few seconds and you looked down at where he sat, nudging your hand forward awkwardly like he couldn’t see it directly in front of his face. He ignored it and watched you with an amused look on his handsome face.

“Why are you introducing yourself?” He was finally saying and this took you off guard, the confirmation he knew who you were both surprising you and irritating you further at the implication his previous comments and interactions towards you were intentional.

You huffed and brought your hand back down to your side. “So you know who I am?”

“Row A, always raising your hand. Tight ponytail.” He stretched out the word ‘tight’ and you frowned at the innuendo. “Lacking your usual cartoonish grin but, yeah, I know who you are.”

“My smile is not cartoonish” You were hissing through your teeth at him and he smirked at that being the only thing you could manage to deny, too honest to refute his other claims even when you were frustrated.

He raised his hands in mock surrounded and your frown deepened, an uncharacteristically clouded expression taking over as your worst fears were confirmed. He was going to make this truly difficult, maybe even impossible. You resigned to sitting in the spot next to him, one over from your usual place.

You could feel him looking at you as the professor began talking, sneaking quick glances and sometimes downright staring holes in the side of your head.

For once in your entire academic career, you didn’t participate in class even remotely. You let your worries for the grand picture distract you from learning anything small today, zoning out with your lips in a pout until you noticed everybody packing up. Somehow you managed to fast forward through the entire thing.

Sunghoon was standing at the same time as you and as you made your way out of the room, he stepped infront of you and blocked your path completely. You tracked your eyes up his broad chest to his face and waited for him to add on to your already terrible day.

Instead he was sticking his hand out, similarly to the way you did earlier whilst waiting for a returned handshake. However his hand wasn’t fully open, clutching a small sticky note between his fingers and wagging it impatiently when you took too many seconds to stare at it in confusion. The second it was in your grip he was turning on his heel, out the door before you could speak or read it.

You glanced down at the paper in your hands with furrowed eyebrows, taking a second to decipher what he’d given you so abruptly.

When you finally pieced it together you felt a small surge of hope pass through you, smiling softly as you left the classroom, clutching Park Sunghoon’s phone number in your hand.

——

The little ball of hope you’d been presented didn’t last very long, disintegrating into a handful of nothingness before you’d even really had any time to appreciate its arrival.

You’d swallowed your pride and sent Park Sunghoon a text, very formative and stern in a request for him to meet you at the library before it closed. He hadn’t replied but you knew he had seen it and for some reason you thought he would actually show up despite having no evidence to that fact.

“Still waiting for somebody Y/N?” The boy who worked the front desk at the library was pushing past you with a cart of returned books, finishing cleaning up before he could close.

“Yeah I’m sorry Jake.” You frowned slightly and kept your tone polite, feeling guilty for slowing down his process.

He smiled at you and shook his head like it was no big deal, causing you to smile in return and bow your head slightly in appreciation. You were beginning to think you should just pack up and go to avoid causing him more issue until you heard a throat being cleared from behind you.

You immediately tensed up at the familiarity of it and you turned around in your seat to see Park Sunghoon standing a few feet away, watching Jake walk away with a raised eyebrow and a curious expression.

“You’re late.” You spat at him as your face dropped and you sighed, spinning back in your chair and fidgeting nervously with the opened book in front of you.

“Are you nice to everybody except me?” He was ignoring your nagging and making his way towards the table, surprising you by sitting directly next to you instead of the open seats across. “Where’s that Y/N classic smile?”

You shot him a glare but couldn’t help feeling slightly bad considering what he was saying. It was totally against your nature to be rude to somebody, even people who didn’t treat you the best necessarily.

“I take studies really seriously.” You explained to him, trying to soften your voice “And I don’t have a classic smile I just smile like a normal person, unlike you.”

He looked thrown off by your sudden banter and let out a scoff. “I smile.” He immediately argued.

“No you don’t, you smirk. There’s a big difference.” You were closing the book in front of you and he gave you a mildly confused glance, despite keeping his nonchalant demeanor. “The library closes in ten minutes, I told you that you were late.”

“Can’t you ask your friend to have some patience?” His words confused you for a second before you realized he was referring to Jake.

You scoffed in disbelief and shook your head, standing from your chair and starting to pack your belongings back into your bag. He groaned like he thought you were too sensitive and leaned forward slightly so he was still in your field of vision.

“What did I do now? You’re mad because I said you had friend? Aren’t you like friends with everybody?” He was droning on in a bored tone as he watched you continue packing, waiting for you to take the bait.

“I’m not mad.” You shook your head and gave him a forced smile. “I am simply coming to the realization my semester partner has no care for other peoples time. I wanted to give you the opportunity to actually prove yourself for once during your years at college but it’s clear you’re not interested so I’ll be going now.”

You glanced at him once last time as you spoke and you felt a wave of guilt come over you again at the way he tensed and his jaw ticked at your words. You looked away quickly in shame and gave him a small wave as you walked away, nodding at Jake as he said he’ll see you tomorrow.

——

“You said that?” Jungwon’s loud voice was overthrowing the sound of your upset groan as he rounded his way from the kitchen. “Y/N, how could you say that?”

“What are you talking about man, its Park Sunghoon. I think it’s awesome.” Riki was chiming in from the couch.

You were sprawled across the carpeted floor in dismay, immediately calling your friends over as you rushed out of the library with teary eyes and guilt from your mean comment.

“I love you Rik, but you finding anything I’ve done cool let’s me know it was something terrible.” Your words were half groaned and he looked offended for half a second before nodding in acceptance.

“I’m going to have to change schools.” You were dramatically continuing on, tugging your sweater over your hands and covering your face to mumble complaints through the fabric.

Jungwon was joining you on the carpet now and slowly feeding you a strawberry he had been cutting up, like an animal he was trying to calm down, and giving you a soft shake of his head. “No you won’t have to change schools. You just need to see him and apologize.”

“That’s the problem, I never see him.” You were mumbling around the strawberry and your other hand was anxiously scratching along the carpet in an attempt to self soothe.

“Well I overheard from Jay that’s he’s going to that stupid frat party I’m going to tonight. I’m sure I could get the two of you in.” Riki was chiming in again from the couch and you vaguely heard Jungwon scolding him, mentioning how you’d never been to a party before and never would when you were suddenly sitting up.

“That’s perfect.” The speed in which you sat up startled the both of them and they looked at you with confusion. “I’ll go to the party and apologize.”

“What?” Jungwon was raising an eyebrow as Riki clapped excitedly. “You’re going to go to a party, Y/N what’s gotten into you?”

“Correction Jungwon, we are going to a party.” You were grinning for the first time that day, excited at the idea of having a good night and getting the chance to right your wrongs, not paying any attention to the way all of the color drained from your best friends face.

——

The excitement hadn’t lasted more than a few minutes after entering the door.

The first thing that registered for you, was how much you underestimated what a frat party would be like, assuming it was played up and exaggerated in movies for the sake of entertainment.

Turns out, it was shockingly similar in the way it visibly was out of control and stunk like vomit and cheap beer. Your shoes felt sticky against the wood floors and you tried with all your might to keep a grimace off your face. People were greeting you excitedly, some making drunk comments about your rare appearance at a social event but seemingly friendly in their surprise at seeing you out for once.

The smile on your face wasn’t a good showcase of how you actually felt considering you were slowly getting more and more overwhelmed and the night was barely beginning. You’d almost forgotten why you were there in the first place in your building panic.

Jungwon had stayed close to you the entire night, looking similarly upset and irritated but wearing it openly on his face unlike you who at least was attempting to pretend to be enjoying yourself.

He was practically glued to your back as he shuffled around the main area, avoiding the shoulders of tall frat boys and the elbows of drunken college girls flailing around the dance floor.

“You guys could atleast try to look like you’re not being held hostage.” Riki had at some point wandered away to greet his sporty friends but he was now circling back with a drink in hand as he leaned down to speak to you, an eyebrow raised in disapproval.

You furrowed your eyebrows and gave him your best attempt at a casual expression, nudging Jungwon to do the same awkwardly, both of you dropping into frowns when your friend simply let out an amused chuckle.

“I just need some air.” You were shaking your head and putting your full cup down on the counter behind you, gesturing towards your friends sternly. “Stay with him, I’ll be back.”

You swiftly made your way away from them, ignoring Jungwon mumbling about not needing a babysitter, heading towards the slider door you’d seen briefly earlier.

By the time you’d made it over there and thrown it open, you’d sent hundreds of wishes to the universe that nobody would be out there. It was dark out on the small balcony but from what you could tell, your prayers were answered.

Your hands were touching the cold metal of the railing as you leaned your upper half over it slightly, taking deep breaths and shutting your eyes tight to try to bring your nerves down.

It was easy to be social and friendly in casual spaces like a classroom, quick conversations in the hallways that held no substance or weight came naturally to you and made your head feel lighter after a heavy work load but you’d never been a fan of large dense crowds in intimate spaces.

“Please don’t tell me you’re about to start singing.” You froze at the sound of somebody talking, spinning around to see you had clearly missed the other person leaning against the wall of the balcony in your haste to escape the party.

Park Sunghoon was stood casually, ankle crossed over the other as he watched you from the shadows. Your eyebrow quirked up at the burning red ash hanging off his lip and he shrugged softly at your curious glance.

“Why would I start singing?” You almost snapped the words but reeled your emotions in, remembering suddenly that you were meant to find him and apologize tonight.

“Looks like a disney princess, acts like a disney princess… you do the math.” He was answering like it was obvious and you were regretting your plan for the hundredth time that night.

You ignored his obvious attempt to bait you despite your instinct begging you to ask him what he meant by that, unable to tell if it was a diss or a begrudged compliment. You were taking a step towards him awkwardly with a sheepish expression and his raised eyebrow made another appearance. “Listen Park..”

“Please don’t make me listen to an apology monologue.” He was quickly interrupting you and your mouth dropped open in disbelief, staring up at him with wide eyes. “Consider it forgiven, plus you weren’t exactly wrong anyways.”

He was looking at you intensely but you couldn’t quite place what his expression was saying considering how dark it was, only relying on the reflective light of whatever he was smoking to provide some clarity.

“Great, so I came to this stupid party for no reason.” You were relieved he had seemingly forgiven you despite the awkward tension in the air but now you felt more defeated, having wasted an outfit and an entire night that you could’ve been in bed comfortable and studying during.

You sat down on one of the chairs around the balcony with a sigh, half laying down in social exhaustion. He let out a breath that could’ve been a laugh and then he was moving away from the wall and sitting down in another chair across from you.

He was easier to see now and you scanned his outfit as he rounded into the chair, feeling embarrassed suddenly at his casual attire and tightening your cardigan around your middle to try to hide the obvious effort you applied.

“Are you implying you came all the way to your first party just to see me?” His voice was mocking but not particularly rude, regardless it caused heat to rise to your cheeks. “How’d you even know I’d be here?”

“Riki said…” You were mumbling as you shrugged and avoided looking at him, suddenly realizing how weird your whole plan could seem from an outside perspective.

“Your tall friend.” He was stating in confirmation and you nodded. You were slightly thrown off that he knew what your friends looked like, along with the fact he had either just assumed it was your first party or paid attention enough to know you didn’t go out much.

The two of you didn’t say anything after that for a moment, only the sound of his inhales around what you could now see was a cigarette and the low thumping of music on the other side of the glass door, breaking up the silence.

You were trying not to stare too hard at him but you found it weird he had accepted so quickly the rude things you’d said, sitting out in the cold across from you like you were friends casually taking a smoke break.

Park Sunghoon typically fell pretty high on your list of stress inducers, your other wise easy going days and personality helping you breeze through most weeks without any issues. So it felt beyond strange to be finding comfort in the silence that came alongside his presence.

It didn’t last long however, only extending around ten minutes before there was loud banging against the slider door. Sunghoon didn’t move, just carelessly glancing over but you jumped up out of your seat and smoothed down your dress.

Riki was standing on the other side of the door, his fist pressed against it from where he’d just been slamming on it. His sharp eyebrows were furrowed in irritation and you gave him a confused glare before he was gesturing over his shoulder to where Jungwon was currently in the middle of the dance floor.

“Oh wow.” You heard Sunghoon breathe a laugh from his spot in the chair, the sight of your usually uptight friend dancing around with a sloshing cup, throwing the both of you off. “That’s probably not good.”

“Yeah.” You let out in a rush, glancing back at him and then towards Riki again apologetically. “I should probably go.”

You’re not sure why you said it, feeling immediately embarrassed when he gave you an amused look and shrugged his wide shoulders like he didn’t require you to say goodbye to him.

You were stumbling away from the porch in a hurry before you could embarrass yourself more, the loud noises of the party immediately hitting you once you slid the glass open to join Riki in an attempt to get Jungwon home.

——

Your normal schedule was already in a complete disarray and you were one more mishap from breaking down, quickly moving through the halls with your backpack clutched to your chest so it didn’t smack against your back as you ran.

“Hi Y/N.” Jake was greeting you casually once you made it to the library, an hour past when you normally liked to be there. “Rough morning?”

You glanced at him from where you were bent over, hands on your knees and you tried to catch your breath. You gave him a small smile and nodded your head, sitting up slowly and placing a book down in front of him gently on the customer service desk.

“Any good?” He was smiling at you as he scanned it, placing it in his return pile and leaning forward on the surface so he could focus in on your response.

“Not sure if it’s your taste but I liked it.” You shrugged at him and you grinned and he nodded his head in understanding, glancing behind you momentarily.

“Your scary friend has been waiting for you I think, by the way.”

You were turning as you spoke, shaking your head at him in amusement. “Riki isn’t scary, he’s just…”

Your words trailed off as you followed his line of sight and quickly realized who he had been referring to. Park Sunghoon was sat at the table nearest to the entrance, leaning back casually and playing with his pen, his classic raised eyebrow as he watched you and Jake interact.

He didn’t say anything but he looked slightly amused at the way your mouth dropped open in surprise, faltering completely.

Giving a smile to Jake and a small wave, you hesitantly made your way over to where Sunghoon was sitting and placed your backpack down on the chair across from him.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” You questioned him with a slow tone and you watched his expression to see if he’d be annoyed at your lack of greeting.

“Library boy said he’d see you tomorrow.” He shrugged like it was an obvious thing to pick up or care about. “And it’s tomorrow.”

You gave him a questioning stare that he held without any issue, slowly sitting down in your chair and trying to decide what approach to take to such a strange conversation. You hadn’t expected to see him again, surely not as soon as you currently were and not in the library.

“Would you rather me have not shown up?” He was cocking an eyebrow at you and you stared at him for a few seconds, trying to decide if he was baiting you into another argument or if he was genuinely trying to understand your current thought process.

You weren’t exactly sure how to answer his question, grateful he had shown up despite your previous out burst but also feeling extremely awkward after your weird interaction at the party. You’d had plans for what to work on today, a list of precise details and assignments you needed to complete, but your mind felt completely blank now looking at him.

He shifted in his seat and you realized you hadn’t answered him yet, clearing your throat quickly and offering him a small smile and a brief nod.

“I’m glad you showed up Park. We have a lot of work to do.” You were chirping out and he scoffed out a laugh at your sudden bright tone, putting back on your usual nice tone and expression. Your eye twitched at his disapproving laugh but you attempted to keep your cherry mood as you pulled open one of your shared classes textbooks.

You could feel him staring at you as you did so and your hands suddenly felt stiff and clammy under his watchful eyes, your movements awkward and clumsy.

“Do I make you nervous or something?” He was suddenly speaking again and you froze where you were bent over to reach the floor and dig through your backpack.

You sat to swiftly to glare at him, fixing your hair when it shifted forward into your face and he smirked slightly again at the familiar look returning to your face. He was leaning back in the chair casually and his arms were crossed as he looked at you, jacket pulled tight on his arms.

“Why on earth would you make me nervous Park.” You were whispering to him but the words were forced and rough, leaning forward with tour elbows on the table.

“Scared maybe?” He was shrugging like it was obvious and you gave him a confused expression, not sure where he would’ve gotten that idea from. “Just assuming considering your guard dogs have been staring at us this entire time.”

“What are you-“ You were shaking your head and trailing when he was lazily glancing over your shoulder as an explanation. You whipped around in your seat just in time to see two familiar faces hurriedly duck behind the nearest book shelf. You could hear Jungwon’s voice complaining in a whisper shout that Riki had bumped him on accident.

You were turning back to the table and groaning loudly, a sound you rarely made outside of your friend group and Sunghoon’s face almost twisted in surprise. You put your head in your hands and avoided looking at him in embarrassment.

“They’re psychotic.” You were announcing, your voice muffled by your sleeves and hair.

“They’re kind of funny.” Sunghoon was saying it like he was reluctant to admit it and you picked your head up to look at him in surprise. His expression remained neutral, as always, as he looked at you. “You guys should come to my friends party this weekend.”

Despite seeing him at the last party, it completely threw you off to hear him so casually mention going to one. Then it dawned on you that he was not only mentioning it, but inviting you and your friends and you completely flushed.

He was still just watching you with that same blank stare and you suddenly felt extremely nervous at his proposition. You didn’t take him as the party type, and you also didn’t know he had friends in the first place let alone ones who were social enough to throw parties. You were shaking your head before you even processed doing it and his eyebrow cocked again.

“We don’t really… party much.” You were awkwardly mumbling out and he gave you a disbelieving look.

“The little one sure seems to.” He responded quickly and you were confused for a second before remembering he had also been a witness to Jungwon’s adventure last time, the sole reason your conversation on the deck had been cut short in the first place.

“Do you always know this much about people?” You changed the topic to try and distract him from the fact you had completely lied about your friends recent habits, sliding your elbows further on the table so you were leaned over it a bit and giving off the impression that you were interrogating him.

For the first time since you’d met him, he looked slightly startled at your sudden statement. His responses were normally quick and witty but he didn’t say anything for a few seconds, watching you with a small hint of bewilderment on his otherwise stiff face.

“No offense but.. I didn’t know you even had friends.” You felt bad for making him uncomfortable and you quickly tried to change the subject back to his invite, thankful to see the tension leave his shoulders as he scoffed at your words.

“None taken. You wouldn’t know them anyways.” He was shrugging and you frowned, priding yourself on being social and friendly with people all over the school. “Different social circles.”

“Try me.” You were blurting out, determined to prove him wrong and show that you didn’t discriminate about who you were friendly to. He gave you a knowing look but you weren’t deterred, a smug expression on your face as you waited for him to name names.

He waited for a few seconds before sighing and sitting up in his seat a bit. “Lee Heeseung?”

Your shoulders dropped at the unfamiliar name, never having even heard it in passing and his smirk widened. He didn’t name anybody else and you were glad considering your ego was already bruised from the first one. He repeated the fact that you ran in different circles and you watched him curiously as he shifted again, checking his phone suddenly that you hadn’t noticed was abandoned on the table.

“Fuck.” He was mumbling under his breath and shoving the device into his pocket, pushing out of his sweet casually and giving you a quick look. “I’ve gotta go, let’s reschedule.”

“But we didn’t even-“ You were pausing in your objection when he was already turning and disappearing out of the library, your hands raising in bewilderment at his sudden departure before you’d even slightly started to work on anything. You let out a sigh and flopped back in your seat.

You sat there for a few moments on self pity before you heard faint whispers and grunts coming behind you and you groaned softly at the reminder you had an audience. Turning your head slightly to let them know you knew they were there.

“Get out here idiots.”

——

Park Sunghoon hadn’t responded to any of your text messages for the rest of the school week and you were absolutely fuming, not even able to control your expression as you walked between classes.

Students were sending you concerned glances as you marched through the campus, a deep frown underneath your tensed eyebrows, a direct opposite to what your normal expression was. He hadn’t shown up to any classes either so you couldn’t yell at him and release your pent up anger even if you wanted to.

“Jesus Y/N.” Riki was calling from somewhere to the side of you and he quickly matched your stride as he joined you, his long legs easily following along to your fast stomps. “You look like you’re about to kill somebody.”

“Trust me, I would be killing somebody if that certain somebody would come out of hiding.” You were spitting out and turning a corner sharply, having finished classes for the day and deciding to head back to your dorm instead of going to the library.

“I know you said no, but why don’t we just go to that party he mentioned then.” Riki was sighing softly and you could feel him looking at you in worry, more serious than he normally was considering how distressed you’d been as you took on two work loads. “He’s bound to be there right? I just wish it wasn’t Heeseung’s party..”

He was trailing off and you paused in your tracks, his arm bumping into yours at your abrupt stop and he turned back to raise an eyebrow at you in confusion.

“You know Lee Heeseung?” You were rushing out, shifting your books to your other arm so you could raise a hand and poke his chest accusingly.

“I know everybody dude.” He gave you a look like he thought you were stupid for missing the obvious and honestly you kind of were, for some reason only now remembering your best friend was the biggest social butterfly in your school.

You knew everybody, but Riki actively engaged with people and was a casual member of multiple friend groups, especially when it came to filling his weekends with various parties and activities.

“He’s trouble though Y/N, and I mean it.” He was shaking his head with a disapproving look on his face and you furrowed your eyebrows at him. You’d never experienced somebody that your friend didn’t like, the expression on his face causing a weird pit in your stomach to form. “That whole group is, I can’t believe Park is friends with people like that.”

The two of you continued to walk after agreeing to discuss it with Jungwon before making any decisions.

You felt extremely thrown off by what Riki had told you, knowing Park Sunghoon definitely had a reputation and an astoundingly stern attitude problem but you couldn’t imagine him hanging out with a crowd as rough as Riki was warning you he did. He seemed to be full more of teasing comments and selfishness than he was actual problematic behavior but the other part of you was confused why you felt the instinct to defend him.

You sighed softly and shifted your books around in your arms, pushing it deep into your mind for now.

——

“I’m telling you, I really have a terrible feeling about this guys.” Jungwon was leaning down to whisper into your ear as you stood in the small line outside the house the party was in, loud music already pouring out and deafening your surroundings despite the fact you were barely on the front lawn.

You glanced over at Riki to see him carrying a similar worried expression, unusually tense as he glanced around at the area you were in.

The energy was vastly different than the last party you’d went to, the same going for the attendees. Most seemed like they were a lot older than you and your friends, carrying a strange look in their eyes and regarding each other with tensed conversations that bordered on arguments.

Your sick feeling from earlier had returned full forced and you tugged on the sleeves of your sweater anxiously, regretting that you had followed Sunghoon’s lead of a casual outfit like he wore last time. Most the women at this party were anything but casual, wearing very little clothing and carrying themselves with a maturity you couldn’t even fake.

“We can be in and out, I promise.” You were tugging them down more to your level to whisper, a heavy guilty settling in at the fact you’d even brought them along. “I’ll find him and tell him to get his stuff together, then we can go home and watch Spider-Man.”

Your friends gave you soft encouraging smiles but their shoulders didn’t lose any tension and neither did yours, only growing more nervous when you were finally passing through the doorway. The three of you moved in unison over to the kitchen area and you turned to them once you reached somewhere that felt somewhat neutral.

It was small enough that nobody was actually hanging out in there, simply giving you strange looks as they passed by to refill their cups.

“You guys stay here and I’ll go and find him.” You were sternly telling them and Jungwon’s face curled up in disapproval.

“Are you kidding me? No way we are letting you walk around out there by yourself.” He was shaking his head and you deflated slightly, knowing the sight of you and your friends approaching to scold him would do nothing but drive Sunghoon further away from you and your overload of assignments.

“If I’m not back in 20 minutes, come and find me.” You were telling them as a form of compromising, raising a hand with your pinky stuck out.

Jungwon was sighing but eventually complying with your ask, raising his and linking your fingers together in a promise. You glanced at Riki and he gave you a small nod of acceptance, still carrying that dark expression that you weren’t used to seeing.

You were readying yourself before pushing back out into the main are, taking a deep breath and adjusting your skirt before heading back out through the door and scanning the general area.

It only took a few seconds before somebody was bumping into you from behind, sending you into somebody else and this continued for a few encounters before you were catching your footing and getting the memo that standing around like a lost deer wasn’t the right move.

You tried to look casual as you moved through the crowd but you knew your attire and demeanor gave you away upon first glance, possibly even passing for a confused highschooler in the eyes of the weathered people you were stuck in the sweaty room with. You were once again second guessing what you knew about Park Sunghoon, doubt running through your mind that he would take your demand as smoothly as he did your previous outburst towards him.

Luckily you were spotting him quicker than you thought you would, just starting to lose hope that you’d find him at all before you caught sight of his familiar bleached hair and leather jacket.

That familiar anger from earlier was building back up and you pulled your face into a determined expression, not letting him and his mysterious social life scare you off. You marched over to him and aggressively poked him in the back, faltering slightly when he whipped around with a heavy glare.

His face fell when he registered it was you and you figured it was just because he’d been expecting a friend or he was preparing for your lecture, not realizing that he had been mid conversation with a few guys who were smoking behind his back on the couch.

“How dare you Park Sunghoon.” You were starting off strong in your rambles, only slightly thrown off that his eyes were widening and his face was showing the biggest display of emotion you’d seen since you’d met him. You couldn’t quite read what he was feeling however so you decided to continue. “Do you have any idea how exhausted I’ve been this week? Not to mention looking for you absolutely everywhere like a crazy person, just for you to never even bother to show up.”

“Also.. your phone, I’ve been..” You were slowly trailing off, both because his lack of response and the fact somebody was now standing off the couch and approaching the two of you from behind Sunghoon. “I’ve been calling and you..”

“You must be the scholar.” The boy was cutting you off with a strange grin, wrapping an arm around Sunghoon’s shoulder and pulling him in a bit tighter to his chest.

You watched Sunghoon wince slightly and give you a sharp warning look, silently trying to communicate that you had made a mistake. You didn’t need for him to tell you that considering you could immediately feel the energy of the room shift at his arrival, the grin slowly sliding off his sharp face the longer you stared.

“You don’t know how to introduce yourself?” He was saying, a played up disappointment in his voice and he kissed his teeth before turning to look at the side of Sunghoon’s face. “Thought you said your girl had manners Hoonie.”

Your face flushed at the mocking question directed towards you and then more so at the phrase he’d used to Sunghoon. You’d obviously been talked about before considering the nickname he had called you and the implication that Sunghoon spoke on your behavior.

“Well I’m Heeseung.” He was smiling at you, a toothy grin that was immediately dropping back into that lazy smirk. It was similar to the one the boy next to him often wore but it felt a lot meaner, his eyes sharp as they stared down at you analytically. “And you’re Y/N… did you dress yourself Y/N?”

Your cheeks felt red and hot as you instinctively glanced down at your outfit, tugging your sleeves over your hands anxiously and parting your mouth to try and say something. You felt embarrassed at the fact he was clearly making fun of you, something you’d experienced before due to your bubbly personality but never so sincere and nasty.

It got even worse when you realized your eyes were starting to water, not meaning to cry but the overwhelming humiliation activating your fight or flight. You glanced at Sunghoon and he was watching you with a heavy look that you didn’t understand.

“Is she mute? You didn’t mention she was mute Hoonie.” Heeseung was squeezing his shoulders again and Sunghoon was finally moving a bit, shoving his arm back so the other boy wasn’t holding onto him anymore. He glared at him but still didn’t say anything, certainly not coming to your defense. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing sweetheart, it’s actually kind of sexy. The whole pathetic virgin look you have going on.”

He laughed softly as he spoke but you knew he wasn’t attempting to make a joke, his eyes scanning up and down your frame with an expression you’d never seen somebody have before. You couldn’t tell if he was actually considering you lustfully or if it was pure disgust in his eyes.

“Leave her be man.” Sunghoon was finally speaking now, a soft sigh accompanying his words and he nudged his friends arm softly.

“Sunghoon said you’ve been on his ass for days.” Heeseung was completely ignoring him and continuing, not even sparing the other boy a glance and keeping his stare firmly locked on your frame. “Hitting him up constantly like some clingy bitch of a girlfriend.”

You shot him a hurt stare but he was avoiding looking at you now, his eyes on his shoes or past your head as his friend continued to berate you. You looked back at the unfamiliar boy and shook your head softly, feeling some of your hair loosen from your pins and a tear finally break loss and stream down your cheek.

You hurriedly wiped it with your sleeve and Sunghoon’s head shot back up at the movement, face crumbling for a second before hardening back up when Heeseung glanced at him to see his reaction to your tears.

Something was bumping into you from behind and you were starting to turn and apologize, planning to use the distraction as a way to disappear from the terrible interaction when you realized who it was pressing against you.

Heeseung was immediately smiling again at the sudden arrival of your friends but Sunghoon tensed more, like he knew their presence would upset his friend even further and escalate the situation. Heeseung didn’t look at all deterred by the fact Riki was a lot taller than him, or the deep glare that Jungwon was sending him from your side where he was grabbing your arm softly.

“It’s been 20 minutes.” Your youngest friends voice was resounding from behind you, his tone lower than normal and you could feel his chest rumble against your back. “We have to go.”

You nodded your head even though you weren’t facing him and your hand instinctively came up to wipe your face off again. Jungwon was stood rod stiff next to you and radiating an anger you’d never experienced from the gentle and mature boy.

You considered saying something to Sunghoon, even as small as letting him know he was off the hook and didn’t need to help you with any assignments. One look at him told you that would be a mistake, understanding now what his harsh expression when he saw you had meant.

Heeseung was still making comments as the three of you turned to leave, whining about how the fun had only just started and other things that you tuned out as you let out a small sob and let your friends guide you through the crowd.

You felt embarrassed to be so upset over a few mean comments but you couldn’t shake the feeling of disgust that washed over you at his words and nasty stare, wiping your tears again and feeling the way one of your friends hands tensed against your arms at the movement. You felt guilty for dragging them out of their dorms for no reason, not even succeeding in getting your partner to cooperate.

“Y/N.” You could hear your voice being called as the three of you pushed out into the lawn but you ignored it when you realized who it was. “Please, just wait a damn second.”

You stopped abruptly because your friends did, Riki immediately turning around and approaching the boy in an agitated manner. You watched him press his chest close to Sunghoon’s in a challenge and you silently pleaded that he would be smart enough to not start a fight where you knew nobody and Sunghoon apparently had social ties.

Sunghoon paid the younger boy no mind, quickly giving him a unbothered glance before looking over his shoulder towards where you were standing and holding onto Jungwon.

“Two minutes.” He was requesting and his eyebrows were pulled forward in a serious expression, waiting for your answer. “Please.”

The rare use of the word from him made you feel hesitant to say no and you sighed before approaching them slowly, softly touching Riki’s arm and whispering for him and Jungwon to go down the street a bit and call for an Uber home.

You watched them as they walked away, both sending you concerned looks over their shoulders as they got further up the street and you tried your best to give them a reassuring smile. When they were far enough that they wouldn’t be able to hear your conversation, you turned back to Sunghoon and sniffled softly although you’d almost stopped crying by now.

“Let’s just get this over with then.” You were hurrying out, shaking your head and avoiding looking at him.

You imagined you looked like a complete mess, contradicting your typical put together demeanor. You’d taken your hair pins out and you could feel it getting messier as you kept running your hands over it, face red and puffy from being upset.

“I know I’m annoying and pushy, and I probably texted you too much but I was just freaking out with how much work we had to do and I didn’t know how to get ahold of you.” You were rambling off and pulling at your sweater uncomfortably, still not looking at him even though you could see he was taking a step forward.

“You shouldn’t have come here.” His voice was saying and your head shot up to glare at him in confusion, not caring that his expression was still pretty soft and not angry.

“Need I remind you that you invited me, asshole.” You spat at him, raising an accusatory finger but you didn’t poke his chest like you normally did.

“I shouldn’t have, it was stupid of me.” He was shaking his head and sighing, looking past you for a second before his eyes were shooting back. He never seemed to have an issue with staring (or glaring) at you but something about your puffy eyes and furrowed eyebrows was making it hard for his gaze to stay locked on your face. “My phone… it just wasn’t on and I didn’t think you’d come since I didn’t answer.”

You didn’t say anything for a few seconds, not really understanding why he was explaining himself to you considering he clearly wanted nothing to do with you and he’d never cared about your opinion on anything before.

He was just watching you with that same weird expression he had inside, almost compassionate but still guarded and heavy with something you couldn’t name and frankly, didn’t want to. You’d decided it was best just to leave this situation alone, Heeseung’s mean words still ringing in your mind louder and louder every time you looked at Sunghoon’s face.

“You don’t need to tell me this. It’s not like we’re friends or anything.” You were telling him and you stared at your shoes so you didn’t need to see his reaction to your words.

He didn’t say anything for a few beats and your eyes flitted back up swiftly to see why he had gone silent. His jaw was clenched now and he’d lost the expression that was making your stomach hurt, returning back to being hardened and emotionless.

“Yeah you’re right. We aren’t friends.” He was saying it with finality and your chest ached despite being the one to originally say it, his tone a lot more sincere than yours.

You expected him to just give up on the conversation and walk away but he was just standing there as he watched you, eyes darting around your disheveled hair and the way you were still continuously pulling at your sweater sleeves. You eventually couldn’t stand the tension anymore, along with the fear Heeseung would come looking for his friend sooner or later.

You took a deep breath before giving him a small sad smile, turning on your heel to go and find your friends.

——

“You should’ve just taken the day off Y/N.” Jungwon was whispering to you the next Monday, seated beside you in your shared class and sending you concerned glances every few seconds.

He’d been saying this since the incident at the party, telling you it would be best if you took a sick day before coming back to school. Especially to the classes in which you shared with Park Sunghoon.

You’d been ignoring his warnings, never missing a day before unless it was absolutely unavoidable and you didn’t plan to start because some boy had hurt your feelings a few days ago. You were wearing your usual attire and sitting up straight in your seat, smiling at everybody who entered and refreshing your perfume between lectures.

Besides, it wasn’t like you actually had any plans to run into the reasons for your upset. Heeseung didn’t actually attend your school, you’d quickly found out by pretending to be tutoring him and asking the administration office for his dorm number, and Sunghoon might as well not have considering he never seemed to actually show up anymore.

So you felt a bit thrown off, and regretful that you hadn’t taken your best friends advice, when you were walking into your next class alone and immediately being hit with the familiar sight of his bleached hair.

Not only had he come to class for the first time in nearly two weeks, but he was sat front and center in the seat beside your usual one. You’d faltered completely at the sight of him but before he could notice you in return, you were squaring your shoulders and forcing a bright grin onto your face.

You casually greeted the professor and a few of your peers, complimenting a girls new hair color and giving a small wave to somebody who had wished you good luck on an upcoming project. You weren’t looking at Sunghoon but there was no doubt he’d noticed you by now, the sound of your preppy voice undeniable.

It was nearly impossible to not look over at him once you sat down considering how close he was, his usual manspreading putting his knee far out into the isle so you had to squeeze past it to get to your own seat. You were sure he could feel the back of your legs brushing over his pants and you winced slightly before rushing through the rest of the tight aisle and hurriedly sitting down in your seat.

You cleared your throat and flattened down your hair, fixing your posture and preparing to make it through the duration of the class without needing to interact with the boy.

It was surprisingly easier than you’d expected, although you found yourself unable to focus half the time just from the knowledge that he was so close to you. Still, you didn’t sense the familiar feeling of him staring at the side of your head and he definitely didn’t try to speak to you. You felt bewildered on why he would even show up to class if it wasn’t to confront you or discuss your shared assignments, seemingly just listening to the professor as he rambled on.

Your confusion didn’t stop you from rushing out of the classroom in a hurry the second it was dismissed, breezing past classmates and not giving Sunghoon the opportunity to say anything to you.

——

“How could you possibly forget your phone?” Your youngest friends voice was hitting your ears, albeit muffled considering you were in the familiar position of burying your face into your carpet and letting out low painful groans.

“She was too busy running away from the campus asshole.” Jungwon was explaining, having quickly pieced together what had happened the second you’d crashed through the door in a panic.

Your two friends had already made themselves comfortable in your dorm before you’d gotten there, citing it was more peaceful than their own because you didn’t have a roommate like most students did. You didn’t pay them any mind before sinking to the floor like you’d lost all your bones and telling them what had happened in a series of short carpet spoken phrases.

“So? Just sneak in and grab it before they lock the main doors.” Riki was suggesting it like it was obvious and your head shot up off the floor, giving him a pleading look that he immediately deciphered. “Sorry Y/N, but no way. I’d get in trouble if I got caught, unlike a certain teacher’s favorite.”

“He’s right you know. Nobody would even think twice about you staying at the school late.” Jungwon was adding on from where he was sitting on top of your small bed and you sighed softly, knowing they both had a solid point.

Hence how you found yourself slowly slipping in behind a security guard through the doors to the school, hours after the last students had trickled out for the day and been forced to reside to their dorms or the 24 hour library if they wanted to continue studying. It was slightly eerie to see the area so empty, practicing your scripted explanation in case you were stopped by a less forgiving teacher or the campus security.

You felt a wave of anxiety as you moved through the halls, suddenly realizing the classroom might not be unlocked and if it was that would mean the professor could be right around the corner, waiting to interrogate you about how you’d gotten in.

Attempting to swallow your nerves, you continued towards the room you’d ran out off previously in the day. Park Sunghoon had created another problem in your life and you wished you could find it in yourself to be mad at him, still thrown off by his strange lack of bothering you he’d shown earlier. It was easy to convince yourself that you were just curious about him, nosy by nature and even more so considering how mysterious he tended to be.

You were slipping into the classroom swiftly, not touching the door in case somebody heard its hinges or noticed it had been opened wider. You let out a breath of relief that it had been left open and that the professor was seemingly not there, no sign of his briefcase or paperwork laid out on the desk.

The breath only lasted a few seconds, immediately being ripped out of you when you were suddenly being tugged aggressively backwards and almost losing your balance. You let out a small shriek of panic and surprise but a large hand was quickly placed over your mouth, stopping you from making another sound.

You couldn’t tell who it was that had grabbed you, especially considering they had pulled you into the small supply closet in the back of the classroom and the string light was turned off.

“What are you-“ You had smacked the hand off your face and were just starting to exclaim when a hissed shush was thrown back towards you. You immediately froze when you realized who it was, used to the familiar and aggressive tone.

Park Sunghoon was reaching up to tug on the lights string for a second and turn it on, showing you who he was with a raised eyebrow before switching it off again and shushing you once more. You felt a surge of anger at the fact he had pulled you in here, furthered by the fact that he seemed to think showing you it was him would calm your panic down.

Even more anger resurfaced considering that it actually slightly worked, relieved it wasn’t a complete stranger despite your intense confusion on what exactly he was doing.

“Park?” You tensed up when you heard the professors voice from outside the closet, quickly understanding that they must’ve been having some sort of meeting before you’d walked in and nearly gotten caught.

Sunghoon noticed your stiffening body, considering you were completely pushed up against each other due to how small the closet was. You could feel him looking down at you and you glanced up quickly, barely able to make out his features in the dark but just enough that you could see the warning in his eyes.

You gave him a small nod and his shoulders lowered in relief, knowing you wouldn’t give the two of you up. You weren’t sure if you’d actually get in trouble or not but you didn’t want to risk it, even the idea of the smallest mark on your record making your stomach turn with anxiety.

“That damn kid.” The professor was cursing under his breath and you could hear the disappointment in his voice at the fact Sunghoon had presumably ditched the meeting while he had left the room, glancing back up at the boy to see a strange look on his face.

At first you assumed he had been in trouble and was being scolded but due to the tone of your teachers voice, you imagined now it was something different. Potentially the two of them finally working some things out regarding Sunghoon’s absences and missing assignments.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sunghoon was leaning down to whisper in your ear and a shiver ran through you at how close he had gotten, flushing at your bodies natural reaction and hoping he didn’t notice.

“I.. I forgot something.” You were rocking forward onto your toes to be able to whisper it back to him and you furrowed your brows at the fact you were giving him an answer anyways, not sure why you felt you had to explain yourself to him.

He was standing back to his full height again to stare down at you and you watched him in confusion before feeling something hard pressing into your stomach. Your eyes shot downwards in a panic and you froze up when you realized he was holding your phone in his hand and attempting to pass it to you in the small space. Your eyes shot back up to his face in surprise before you were grabbing it and slipping it into your hoodies front pocket.

Another voice was suddenly appearing from outside the closet and you stiffened up enough to accidentally stumble in shock, nearly falling backwards and knocking into the various mops and brooms if it wasn’t for the hand reaching forward to steady itself around your waist. You froze at the feeling and glanced up to see Sunghoon staring up at the light and avoiding looking at you, eyes closed for a second in a wince.

He didn’t let go of you however, keeping his hand placed there firmly despite the fact you had regained your balance and didn’t plan on moving again anytime soon.

“Hope you don’t have anywhere to be anytime soon.” He was speaking again and you almost panicked at the fact he hadn’t leaned closer to be more discreet when you realized the conversation taking place outside was loud enough to be undetected if you spoke in a low whisper.

“Well luckily for me the pathetic virgin convention was moved to next week so.” You weren’t sure why you had brought it up, directly referencing what Heeseung had called you and the incident at the party, but you immediately regretted it considering the way his face tensed at the words.

You assumed he was upset with you for starting a petty argument when neither one of you could move or even really voice your actual thoughts upon a certain decibel, growing more nervous when he just sighed and didn’t say anything for a few minutes.

“I don’t know why he said that.” He was suddenly saying and you froze a bit at the fact he hadn’t gotten upset with you, instead sounding almost guilty.

“It’s not your fault I guess.” You shrugged awkwardly and looked at his chest so you didn’t have to see his face, reaching up to push some of your hair behind your ear that was falling forward. “You didn’t know he’d repeat the stuff you said.”

“I didn’t say anything like that.” He was saying quickly, his tone almost offended that you had assumed he did.

“You didn’t?” Your voice was laced in surprise and you looked back up at him with wide eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and his gaze darted around your face at the sight of you staring up towards him through your eyelashes.

“No, of course not.” He was shaking his head and his lip was slightly downturned but you didn’t find it as obvious as he seemed to think it was, never directly being cruel towards you necessarily but also never providing any evidence towards the fact he wouldn’t insult you behind your back. “I like… your sweaters.”

He awkwardly trailed off at the end, pausing between the words like he hadn’t mean to start saying them and he looked back up at the light like he was avoiding the way your eyes widened. You felt your cheeks flush at his attempt to compliment you, his hand against your side tensing like he’d forgotten it was even there and he was instinctively using your soft skin as a stress ball.

“Really? You do?” You were whispering before you even realized it, your curiosity getting the best of you but he tensed again and you understood you probably pushed it too far by asking him to reiterate what he’d said.

The door to the classroom was opening and closing outside the closet and for a second you thought both teachers had left considering the sudden silence but you heard somebody clear their throat and realized the conversation had just ended and you still weren’t able to leave yet.

Sunghoon was suddenly leaning back down towards you and you felt panicked until you remembered you had to go back to speaking into each others ears, much to your dismay.

“Yeah, I do.” He was saying softly and you felt confused for a second before recalling the question you’d asked him, another small shiver running through you at his low tone and confirmation that he was complimenting you. If he didn’t notice before, he definitely did not considering he was still holding onto your side and his hand clenched around you.

The air was suddenly heavy and suffocating, a weird tension settling over both of you at the fact you were pressed so close and he was touching you so intimately like it was a natural thing that happened before, like you hadn’t barely talked outside of petty arguments and your conflict a few days prior.

Nonetheless, you had to communicate somehow and your hands were going up to hold onto his shoulders, both for the sake of pulling him down towards you and being able to prop yourself up with less risk of tilting backwards. Once you were closer to his ear, you were leaning forward and you could feel his heart beating from where you pressed against his chest.

“Why didn’t you say anything then?” You were mumbling hesitantly and he tensed up slightly when your lip accidentally touched his ear, immediately dropping back down to your original height and feeling your face heat up at the contact.

He was looking down at you and you held his stare, a small pout on your face that you didn’t even realize you had. You were thinking back to the party and how silent he had been while you were being insulted, despite not being friends and knowing he didn’t owe you any defense or protection, you still felt weird about the way he had just watched it unfold.

He was sighing and shaking his head, leaning back down towards you and his hand flexed again, pulling you tighter against him as a result of the movement. “It would’ve made it worse if I did.”

You were confused by what he meant but you didn’t want to look up and see his expression again, a lot closer now that he had subconsciously pulled you into him. He was still leaning down towards you and you wondered if he planned to say something else or if he was just sick of constantly bending back down.

Your hands were still around his shoulders, tightening around his neck in a weirdly familiar way to keep yourself from titling considering how close your feet were together in the small

space. You tried to think of a way to respond that would give you some answers without prying too much and accidentally upsetting him again.

“Why do you hang out with him?” You were whispering back into his ear and trying to ignore the fact that you were basically hugging as you spoke to each other.

“He’s family.” He was hesitantly answering after a few beats and you were surprised he had even offered the personal information at all, also understanding why that connection would make the situation more difficult and harder to remove himself from.

You let go of his shoulders but kept your hands on his chest in case you feel forward, not even realizing that his other hand has also come down to hold your side and you had no real reason to be touching him, complete secure in his grasp without the added support. You were able to see his face again now and he watched you with a curious expression, seemingly unfazed by the close contact unlike you and your still red cheeks.

“Did you really say I’d been on your ass? That I was like a clingy girlfriend?” You were a bit embarrassed by the saddened tone to your voice but you were genuinely curious and hurt by the fact Heeseung said he’d been told that, not having any way of knowing about your excessive text if Sunghoon hadn’t told him.

“He saw my phone.” He was sighing and starting to explain but he looked extremely awkward, more so than you’d ever seen him and he was ducking his head closer to yours to remain quiet now that you weren’t whispering in his ear anymore. “I couldn’t let him know we were friends or else he would’ve messed with you… more than he already did.”

You didn’t say anything for a while, just watching him and overwhelmingly aware of how close his face was to yours and how if you were the same height, your noses would’ve been touching. You would’ve thought he either didn’t notice or didn’t care, if it wasn’t for the way his eyes were darting around your face and occasionally pausing on your parted mouth.

“So we were friends?” Was all you managed to squeak out, holding your breath and staring up at him as your lips curled into a small smile.

He was standing blank for a second before a sudden scoff came out of his mouth, an eyebrow cocking at your amusement and you felt slightly relieved at the familiar expression back on his face now. You’d weirdly missed the cocky look in his eye, much preferring it over the hard and vacant one he’d been giving you since you’d fought.

“Maybe we could be if you weren’t always so nervous around me.” He was mumbling back in a teasing tone and your stomach flipped at the slightly flirty hint under his words, never crossing into that territory with him before despite the strange tension always sitting in the back of your mind.

Your breath was hitching at the way he tugged you closer again, his right hand sliding a bit so it was against your lower back instead of at your side and he could keep you flush against him. You watched him with big eyes, confused and slightly anxious at the sudden switch in his demeanor. You felt slightly guilty for immediately wondering if he was just messing with you, preparing to push you away and laugh the second you responded to his passes.

His eyes were suddenly more hesitant looking however, like he was wondering if he had made a mistake due to your lack of response and you realized he was just as nervous as you were, just more skilled at hiding his emotions.

“I don’t make you nervous?” You were whispering to him and he immediately shook his head, staring down at you intensely. Your hand flattened where it was on his chest and you hoped he didn’t see how bad it was shaking. “Not even a little bit?”

You thought, for a moment, that you heard his breath catch in his throat but you quickly discarded that idea. Sunghoon had never shown interest in you before outside of this moment and you figured he was just not thinking clearly due to your proximity and the adrenaline from possibly being caught, still a man in a tight space with a girl regardless if you were meant to be enemies or not.

However, you couldn’t help but think of the fact he’d both managed to compliment you and also seemed to pay a lot more attention to your life and schedule than you’d seen him apply towards other people. He knew who you were before you introduced yourself to him, aware of your closest friends and the fact you didn’t go to parties much.

You thought of the fact he had shown up at the library just off the passing comment Jake had made about seeing you the next day, inviting you to a party with your friends. It had turned out terrible but he’d still invited you, opening the doorway to potentially see each other outside of school and converse in a more neutral setting.

His face was dangerously close to yours as he took in your question, silently urging him to admit that he felt similarly to you when it came to the confusing nerves and anticipation you felt every time he was around. You always felt there was something unsaid between the two of you, pushed aside when you started to bicker or one of you had to leave early.

“Your hearts racing.” He ignored what you had said and you frowned softly, glancing down to where your bodies connected. He somehow seemed even closer once you were looking up again and your eyes widened a bit, wondering if he was intentionally leaning down more or if his body was just instinctively being drawn in.

“I’m scared to get caught.” You quickly answered, lying through your teeth but you knew he knew that. His mouth was curling into a smirk and he squeezed your back again, hips flushed together. “I’m serious.”

“I like when you wear this skirt.” He was retorting randomly and your stomach flipped at the rasp in his voice from whispering, not expecting him to keep changing the topic especially when he changed it to compliment you. You didn’t even realize this was something you apparently wore often, just throwing it on with your hoodie before heading back to the school and not thinking twice about it.

“Do you always pay such close attention to me?” You were asking him back, a hint of confidence at the fact he was continuously proving his interest in what you did. You’d asked him something similar before and you recalled the way he had frozen in the library, not answering you and getting tense at the way you’d called him out.

He didn’t react as extremely now, his face keeping that small smirk as he looked down at you like he had expected you to question his behavior. You were confused by his silence until you realized one of his hands had left your body, only noticing when you felt his fingers playing with the bottom of your skirt. He wasn’t lifting it or moving it at all, just gently guiding his hand alongside the seam and watching you.

Your eyes were wide as you looked at him, feeling strangely vulnerable and nervous as he started to toe a line that you didn’t expect him to even consider crossing. The light flirting was already strange of him but now you could feel his rough knuckles accidentally connecting with the smooth skin of your bare thigh.

“You want me to stop?” He was pausing to whisper once he noticed your panicked expression, eyebrow raising as he studied your face for any sign of rejection or hesitance.

You thought about it carefully for a few seconds, wondering if you were still upset with him enough to tell him to knock it off and then be left to awkwardly stand here until the professor left and you could sneak out. He’d infuriated you since you’d met but you also never denied finding him attractive, especially when he was barely inches from your face and throwing you casual compliments like it was something he’d done before.

When you were softly shaking your head, signaling you didn’t want him to quit whatever he was planning to do, he still waited a few seconds before he was moving his hand again.

You gasped softly at the fact he’d moved it off the hem of your skirt, instead going underneath it and pushing it up more so it was settled in the middle of your stomach and he could grab your side again without having the fabric in the way. You were suddenly glad it was dark because you knew that it was raised enough that it would leave your bottom half completely exposed, the skirt already barely coming up mid thigh and definitely now revealing your underwear that it was pushed so high up on your body.

He paused at the noise you had made, looking like he was thinking for a few seconds before he was using his other hand to cover your mouth and give you that same warning look that commanded you to keep quiet.

You nodded against his firm grip but another squeak came out of you when he was squeezing your side, his hand so big that it covered your entire hip and one of his fingers was caressing dangerously over the elastic of your underwear. He pulled your lower half closer to his again with a small grunt and you watched his expression through your eyelashes as he touched you so carelessly.

His eyes were meeting yours when his hand dipped under the strap on your hip, waiting for you to give a small nod of permission before he was slowly pulling your panties down your body and shifting again so you could rest on top of his sturdy leg.

You made a small cry at the contact, practically sitting on his thigh now completely bare and you could feel his hand continuously stroking up and down the outside of your leg, almost transfixed by the feeling of how smooth your skin was. Your arms were coming back up to hold onto his shoulders so you didn’t have to completely press yourself onto his pants and you suddenly felt embarrassed by how exposed you were.

He looked slightly frustrated for a second and you realized it was because he only had one hand available, still covering your mouth with the other one. You reached up to grab his wrist and remove it, bringing it down to place it against your waist and flushing at the slightly surprised look he was giving you at the bold action.

“If I get loud; kiss me.” You were whispering into his ear suddenly and you could feel him tense at the idea, not sure if he was interested in the thought of it or against doing something so intimate. Either way, he didn’t object verbally and just used his two hands to slowly lower you back down onto his clothed leg.

“Anyone ever touched you before?” He was asking suddenly, glancing at your face with a hard expression and waiting for you to respond. One of his hands was caressing your thigh now, getting closer to your core every time he rubbed it and another shutter ran through you at his low tone and the implication that he was planning on touching you.

“Not there.” You were whispering back and shaking your head, squeezing his shoulder in anticipation and feeling a bit dizzy from the sudden rush of want you felt towards him.

“Tell me where.” His face was still hard as he watched you and for a second you thought he sounded a little jealous at the fact somebody had touched you before, his hand squeezing your side almost painfully and pulling you higher up on his leg.

“Just… just when kissing. H-he was… like.” Your face was completely flushed as you tried to explain to him what little experience you had, only ever having an eager high school boy carelessly grope your chest during a terrible make out session.

He seemed to assume what you were implying and you felt his hand leave your leg for a moment, sliding up under your hoodie and rubbing up your rib cage softly. You sucked in a tight breath and held eye contact with him as his hand reached your chest, tensing his grip slightly and his rough thumb ran over your nipple swiftly like he was testing your reaction.

You bucked forward a bit at the feeling, grateful you hadn’t worn anything under your hoodie but overwhelmed at the feeling of him softly kneading your chest and the fact he was staring down at you emotionless as you slowly got more and more overwhelmed.

“Did it feel good?” He was asking in a low rasp and you almost nodded, thinking he was referring to what he had just done but you paused when you realized he was talking about the other boy. “When he was touching you like this, did you like it?”

You were quickly shaking your head in denial, cringing at the memory of rough hands that didn’t actually care about you or your pleasure. Despite his tough demeanor and personality, Sunghoon’s touch was gentle although unrelenting in the way he continued to squeeze your soft skin.

“Feel good now?” He was muttering and you nodded softly, falling forward slightly against his chest at the feeling and your breath caught again at the way you accidentally pressed harder onto his leg. You were sure you were making a mess on his pants, dripping ever since he started to squeeze your sides and whisper into your ear and you felt embarrassed at the fact he’d surely see it later once you were out of the dark. “Say it.”

“Feels good.” You were quickly repeating, instinctively following his order when you heard how serious his voice was and you imagined he would’ve teased you for listening to him so obediently if you weren’t having to make as little noise as possible.

Speaking of noise, it was becoming an issue for you pretty quickly, especially as his hands went back under your skirt to help you shift your hips against his leg. Between the feeling of him underneath you and his big hands holding your hips tightly. He seemed to take notice of your struggle and he paused to watch you for a second, looking like he was conflicted.

You were about to ask him what was wrong, worried by the sudden apprehension on his face before he was abruptly leaning his head down to kiss you.

You froze in surprise for a second before quickly kissing him back, suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that you really wanted to kiss him. You’d tried not to think about it before, pushing it deep in your mind but he seemed just as desperate in the way his hands were moving again and cupping your face gently.

You both seemed to forget about the fact you were currently sat on his thigh, lost in the kiss and moving against each other at a fast and intense pace. The tension that was in the air felt like it had burst, completely mesmerized by the feeling of kissing him so deeply and you felt less worried about how intimate it felt considering he was keeping your face tight against his.

He leaned back a bit to catch his breath, staring down at you with a strange look in his eyes and you yelped slightly when he was suddenly moving his leg so it was back on the ground. You weren’t pressed against him anymore and you were confused when he suddenly fixed your skirt to cover you up again, thinking he had changed his mind and was stopping.

To your surprise, he was standing back up after helping you get dressed and he stared at you for a few seconds with a wild expression before he was eagerly pulling you back into a kiss. His hands were cupping under your thighs to pull you up higher and you made a small noise into his mouth with how desperately he was kissing you, almost bordering on romantic if you didn’t know any better.

But you did know better so you were slightly confused and thrown off by the way he was licking into your mouth like it was something he craved, holding you against him like he was scared you’d disappear if he didn’t keep a tight enough grip.

You were thinking of pulling back and asking him when you heard the sound of the classroom door slamming shut, both of you jumping in place and freezing. You’d almost completely forgotten you were even in your current situation, so focused on Sunghoon and his touch.

You were glancing back at him to see his reaction but his face was hard again and his hand was coming up to touch his swollen lips for a second before he was shaking his head, almost to himself, and pushing the door open. You were worried for a second that the teacher might still be there but you quickly realized the room was empty when Sunghoon continued to step further into it, offering you a glance back over his shoulder when you didn’t follow.

Still in a daze in the closet, you watched him in confusion. You didn’t understand the switch in his demeanor, his shoulders tense and his eyebrows furrowed as he glared at you like you were somehow the one being confusing.

Eventually, you stumbled out of the closet and attempted to smooth out your hair that he had completely messed up with his touchy hands and eager movements. He was just watching you and you saw him touch his lips again, your own turning down into a frown at the upset look on his face.

You figured you had been right and he didn’t want to kiss you, only doing it to keep you quiet and now regretting it. This confused you considering how into it he had seemed to be, more passionate and desperate than you ever thought he could get and the heavy look on his face when he pulled back to look at you, but you weren’t sure why else he would be so upset now.

“Sunghoon.” You started to say and he tensed at the sound of his name at your regular volume, not used to you calling him anything other than his last name. He was raising a hand to cut you off and you paused.

“Think of that as my apology.” He was saying in a stern and emotionless tone, not looking at you anymore as he spoke.

You felt your stomach turn in a different way this time, heart aching for some reason at the fact he had completely dismissed what had just happened and was implying he’d only done it as a way to say sorry to you. You stood there and stared at him in disbelief, not bothering to mask your expression or how much he had just hurt your feelings.

“Why would you say that?” You forced out, voice weak and you felt embarrassed at how obviously affected you were. He glanced at you at the sound of your voice but then immediately was clenching his jaw and looking at the floor.

He was shaking his head for a second before turning to leave out the door, leaving you standing there alone and trying to bring yourself back to reality. You felt dizzy from the sudden switch of emotion from him and the crash back down from your shared high, feeling like you were very much in need of a hot shower.

——

“You did what?”

You were sat in Jungwon’s dorm, his roommate having went home for some family emergency and leaving it vacant other than your friend. You’d made your way over there as soon as you left the school, not bothering to call first or go to your own room.

He’d swung open the door at the sound of your heavy banging, face coated with worry when he saw it was you and you quickly blurted out what had happened. It wasn’t Jungwon’s voice that was exclaiming however and you sighed when you looked over his shoulder to see your other best friend sat on his bed, jaw dropped wide as he paused mid pizza bite.

You stared at the two of them for a second before bursting into tears, falling forward into Jungwon’s arms and hearing the soft sigh he let out as he pet your head softly.

He gently led you inside and closed the door behind you in case anybody was feeling nosy, sitting you on the bed beside Riki and pulling his desk chair up so he could be near the two of you. You laid your head on your youngest friends shoulder and sniffled softly with a large frown on your face, embarrassed and confused.

“You hooked up with Park Sunghoon?” Jungwon was saying it slowly, like he was making sure he heard you right and you nodded softly in confirmation. “In a broom closet..?”

“What does hooked up even mean?” Riki was asking from beside you and you groaned at the fact he was there, trusting him completely but you came to Jungwon for actual advice and you knew Riki wouldn’t take it serious enough to offer any. “Like you lost your virginity? Can you even do that in a closet?”

“I’m not giving you the details idiot.” You glared at him after picking your head up from his shoulder, shoving his arm and ignoring the complaining groan he let out. “But we kissed and then he got all weird and just ran out, he said it was just his way of apologizing.”

Both the boys went silent after that and Jungwon gave Riki a loaded stare, looking back at your face and then to the other boy again and cocking an eyebrow. Your frustration grew as you watched them silently communicate something you didn’t understand, throwing your hands up in upset until their attention was back on you.

“In words please.” You exclaimed loudly and Jungwon sighed softly before leaning forward so his elbows were on his knees.

“Is there any chance he could like you?” He was asking and you were thrown off by how serious he sounded, even more so considering what he was suggesting. Your face flushed and you quickly shook your head in denial, not understanding where he would be getting that from.

“If I kissed a girl that I liked, that I was supposed to hate because that’s like my whole thing, I’d probably run out of a closet too.” Riki was adding on from beside you like it was an obvious thing and common knowledge and you gave him a bewildered look. He shrugged softly and patted you on the back. “I’m just saying.”

“That’s ridiculous.” You were mumbling but their words made you have a weird feeling, thinking about how intensely Sunghoon had kissed you. He’d completely abandoned the idea of touching you just so he could focus on kissing you gently, far more intimate and romantic than you’d expected from him.

Still, it didn’t make any sense to you that he would have feelings towards you. He’d never been kind to you and you weren’t young immature kids, you didn’t consider teasing and making your day harder a form of flirting and you were sure Sunghoon thought similarly to you.

You left them alone to head back to your dorm after hanging in Jungwon’s for a few more hours, making them both pinky promise to not bring up Park Sunghoon or anything that had happened revolving him.

You were only halfway through the campus back to your room, the sun having set at some point during your hysterical rantings to your friends and you were relying on the street lights on either side of the sidewalk to guide you home, when your phone was ringing inside of your hoodie pocket. The vibration tingled against your stomach and you flushed for a second as you remembered the situation that had resulted from said phone before you were pulling it out.

The name on the screen made you stop in your slow pace, faltering to a stop before you were completely stood still and holding the device up to your ear.

“Hello?” Their was a sharp question in your voice, not expecting him to reach out at all let alone so soon after what had happened but there was nothing but static on the other side. “Sunghoon? Park? Are you there.. I don’t have time for this.”

“My cousins keeper… ever the busy woman.” The voice on the other side was slowly crackling through and your blood ran cold at the realization it wasn’t Sunghoon, the voice slightly less familiar but still recognizable to you considering your previous interaction had been replaying in your mind.

“Why do you have his phone?” You were spitting suddenly and your stomach turned with worry for some unknown reason.

You didn’t know if Heeseung was the type to actually hurt somebody, especially his own family member but you also didn’t necessarily have a lot of faith in him and his questionable morals.

He was sighing over the speaker and not speaking again for a few heavy breaths, seemingly weirdly reluctant to talk to you despite being the one to dial your number in the first place. At one point you were pulling the phone off your ear to look at it in confusion, almost thinking he had hung up with how silent it had gotten.

“I need somewhere to bring him for the night.” He was causing you to jump when he was suddenly talking again and your eyebrows furrowed despite him not being able to see you.

“What? What the hell are you talking about?” You were starting to speed walk back to your dorm now that you’d started to understand the situation, practically jogging through the buildings with your stomach twisting in panic and anxiety at the thought of Sunghoon being in so much trouble he couldn’t pick up the phone and call you himself.

The line was silent for a few seconds before you heard the sound of the call ending, pulling it off your ear again to glance at your screen quickly and letting out a screamed curse at the fact he had hung up.

You still didn’t slow down despite not understanding what was even happening, why you felt the overwhelming urge to return back to your dorm but as you rounded the final corner you understood what the strange feeling in your gut was. You faltered in your step when you saw the body slumped in front of your door, knowing who it was without having to get closer and confirm.

“Oh no, no no.” You repeated a soft mantra of upset as you darted over to Sunghoon, dropping to your knees once you were near him and your hands reached out to grab him before stopping.

You didn’t want to hurt him and he let out a small groan that indicated you would if you touched him, hands hovering over his body and looking around frankly in case his cousin was still lingering around somewhere.

You didn’t see any signs of anybody but you knew Sunghoon couldn’t have been laying there long and they could be just off in the distance, watching you to see what you would do with the boy laying on your welcome mat. Your frown was deep as you finally grabbed on to him, ignoring his mumbled complaints and attempts to swat you away.

It took you a long time to manage to drag him inside, almost contemplating calling your friends for help before realizing what a terrible idea dragging them into this would be.

Eventually, you had him inside on the floor and you hands came up to frantically run through your hair in panic. You weren’t sure what you were meant to do, scanning over his frame to try and determine if he was injured enough to go to the hospital but you couldn’t see the extent of the damage through his layers and you paused as you watched him.

“Park.” You were kneeling back down beside him on your floor and whispering softly, nudging his shoulder with your hand and letting out a sigh of relief when he made a small noise of complaint. “Okay good, at least you’re alive.”

“Are you disappointed?” He was suddenly forcing out and you jumped away from his body in shock, clutching your chest at the unexpected sound of his croaking voice.

His head turned slowly in your direction at the sound of your shocked scream and you took a few seconds to try and catch your breath before you were frowning and leaning forward to shove his arm softly. He let out a loud groan at the feeling of you scolding him but you ignored it and furrowed your eyebrows.

“You idiot, I thought you had a concussion or something.” You spat out at him and you thought you saw his lip curl up for a second in amusement.

“Don’t be so sure I don’t.” He retorted with a wince and you noted his slurred words, leaning in to try and see if you smell alcohol on him. “Trust me, if I was drunk it wouldn’t hurt this bad.”

“What the fuck happened to you Park?” You were mumbling, still leaning over him on your floor and scanning his face to make sure he wasn’t going to lose consciousness mid conversation. You’d definitely have to take him to the hospital if that was the case, still highly considering it judging by how out of it he sounded.

“Family stuff.” He was answering after a prolonged silence and your frown deepened at the confusing implications, reminding yourself to question him more thoroughly later on. “Did I worry you?”

“By showing up at my door like a corpse? Yeah slightly.” You scoffed as you answered him and his lips curled up more, border-lining on the first actual smile you’d seen from him.

“You weren’t home.” He said after a few beats and his voice suddenly went serious again, soft and almost whining at the fact you hadn’t been here when he first arrived. You figured he was only acting this way because he was out of it and not thinking clearly, his hand extending in your direction and twitching a few times being more proof behind that thought.

You stared at it before eventually giving in and taking it in yours gently, feeling the way he immediately squeezed them together in relief and your frown deepened as he looked at you again.

“You always look so sad around me.” He was continuing on and his eyes were going in all directions around your face, having trouble focusing on any specific part. His voice was weirdly saddened and your heart thumped uncomfortably at the fact he was lacking a filter currently. “Not anyone else, with them you’re smiling and laughing. Just around me.”

You didn’t answer him for a while, because you honestly weren’t sure how. You’d become accustomed to that sort of dynamic with him, assuming from the get go that he was no good and out to get you at all times. You hadn’t necessarily considered that your change of behavior with solely him would upset him at all, causing his lips to turn down in a frown.

You’d said before that you never found him particularly mean, just prone to causing unnecessary stress on you and disrupting your typically perfect schedule in a way that caused you to react before you thought.

“I’m not sad around you.” You were eventually saying softly and you found yourself meaning what you said, squeezing his hand and using your free one to push some of his hair out of his face. “You just confuse me.”

He looked like he wanted to say something but his mouth closed after a few seconds and he just gave a small nod, closing his eyes again. For a moment you thought he had fallen asleep before he was suddenly attempting to sit up, catching you by surprise.

You helped him maneuver his way over to your small dorm bed, taking off his shoes once he was laying down and trying not to think about how strange it was to see him in such a familiar space. Not to mention, the relaxed state he was in as he laid back against your pillows and breathed out a sigh of relief once he caught a hint of your scent.

It was hard not to laugh as you watched him, biting your lip to hold it in but occasionally offering him small chuckles when he kept glancing at you with a drunken look on his pretty face. It made your stomach turn to see the bruised adorning said face, his lip cracked and bleeding slightly and you could tell other areas were going to swell after a few more hours.

You wished he was conscious enough for you to ask him what had happened in more detail but you figured he wouldn’t answer you regardless.

His breathing slowly evened out after a few minutes of you trying to get him as comfortable as possible, bringing a cup of water and pain killers to your bedside for him to take as soon as he woke up. You watched him carefully after he finally dozed off and you considered laying on the floor for a moment before you sighed and climbed into bed beside him, figuring it was the least he could allow considering he had shown up on your doorstep so late after running out on you.

“Night Park.” You were mumbling it more to yourself, curling over on your side and trying to avoid touching him as much as possible, letting yourself drift off to sleep.

——

You woke up in a panic at the realization somebody was wrapped around you, completely forgetting your current situation.

You only calmed down when you heard him softly groan in protest, feeling his big hand that was currently thrown over your side, squeeze softly to try and remind you that it was just him in your bed.

Just Park Sunghoon in your bed… half asleep with his arm wrapped around your stomach only a few hours after you’d had an intense make out session in a broom closet. You laid back flat and held your breath as you considered getting out of bed to avoid his touch, stopping when you realized his breathing was quieter now and your abrupt wake up had also taken him out of his deep sleep.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, shifting uncomfortably at the feeling of his fingers flexing against your skin. Your shirt had ridden up in the night and he could feel your warm skin underneath his rough palm.

“It’s okay.” He was whispering back and you felt a bit dizzy at how close his voice was to you, his breath fanning across your neck. You waited for him to remove his hand now that he was more alert, but quickly realized he didn’t plan to when his thumb gently swiped over your hip bone. “I’m sorry too.”

You hadn’t expected to hear the words from him, not sure if he was talking about being dropped off here and interrupting your night or about what had happened in the classroom. You didn’t want to question him, hoping it applied to both and that he genuinely meant it.

He was taking a deep breath when you shifted carefully backwards, letting his chest hit your back and feeling your heart race when his hand was sliding forward to rest gently over your stomach. You were spooning now, far more intimate than you’d foreseen the two of you ever being but you wanted to somehow communicate your forgiveness to him without having to voice it.

“You remember anything?” You asked him carefully, not sure if it was too early to cross that line yet or if he was expecting it.

“Just you.” He whispered back and the words felt heavy, his chest vibrating against your back and your mouth downturned instinctively at the hidden meaning there.

You didn’t think it was completely morning yet, that weird time of the night where the room turned a soft shade of blue and you could hear the birds outside the small room starting to chirp and move around. You and Sunghoon laid in silence for a while but you could tell he hadn’t fallen back to sleep, his thumb still gently caressing your skin as he took deep painful breaths.

“Should we go to the hospital?” You were whispering after a while, voice soft against the silence and you hoped the inclusion of yourself in this scenario didn’t pass by him unnoticed.

“Not yet.” His voice was low and hoarse but it had more emotion than it normally did, sounding almost desperate, like he was asking your permission to stay here in this moment with you. “Let’s just stay here a little longer, just like this.”

His words were heavy again and you weren’t a stranger to the fact that you had a lot of talking to do, healing from the strange back and forth and multiple conversations that would definitely be somewhat uncomfortable. All this was weighing on you for a second after he said it, finding it more in your comfort zone to immediately tackle and issue and find a plausible solution.

You let this habit and anxiety fade away the best you could, understanding that there was time for that later and you didn’t need to pop the bubble you were currently in with him.

Right now, you could be nothing but two people laying together. You could turn off the words of your friends about his hidden feelings for you, set aside his injuries and your longing to understand what exactly had caused them. You didn’t need to be enemies or friends who didn’t communicate to each other properly, you didn’t need to be the person he left behind in the classroom and he didn’t need to wonder why you never looked carefree around him.

For now you could just lay here together and listen to the sound of his breathing, feel it brush against your neck almost in sync with his gentle touch.

For now you could just be.

N

[bambifornia]

huuUOOoLRgGghh fiinnne I can't stay away from you all

i bring more autobot!swindle. plus my attempt at writing his backstory

disclaimer : most of the stuff below isn't canon i just wrote this for fun. if u guys wanna make ur own swindle backstories i invite yall to do so :D we will make our own swindle content

swindle came online during cybertron's early years of the age of expansion. the autobots (with their goal to expand cybertron's empire) engineered a set of bots who would serve cybertron as its intergalactic merchants, programmed to be ambitious bots who sought profit. they also came with bigger processors (for storing transactions and whatnot) and versatile frames (so they could withstand organic climates)

shortly after coming online, swindle was assigned a teacher (another merchant) who'd pass down the knowledge of the trade. swindle did his best to keep up with his lessons

as a student, swindle was determined and clever. as a bot, though...eughh...

- he had less of a filter, and didn't know how to keep a poker face

- his little new England accent used to be a lot thicker (think earthspark swindle)

- very friendly, had a lot of amicas back in the day (he was definitely the "I know a bot" guy). it was a struggle for him to keep quiet

- loved hands on activities, hated sitting still

- kept a journal detailing his intergalactic trips. tried to doodle any organics he found interesting

- LOVED shiny stuff. he was like a crow lmao

- his sharp glossa would sometimes get his aft beat

- despite being a chatterbox, he wasn't as suave back then. he'd often get himself in awkward situations, which he'd try to talk himself out of the embarrassment but he'd end up digging a deeper hole for himself

- petty king. also kinda nosy and had a thing for gossip

- loved pranking, and teased the bots he liked

once he was ready, swindle was given a ship and assigned a trading post (as a starting point). from that point, swindle was a rootin tootin merchant and nothing bad ever happened to him again :D...

...

until the quintessa skirmishes

the age of expansion ended with border disputes between cybertron and quintessa. multiple skirmishes sproutted along the border, and while swindle didn't fight in them, he was certainly caught in the crossfire. swindle ended up with a broken ship, a looted inventory, and a bungled up frame. he had to return to cybertron for repairs

back on cybertron, swindle finds a planet wildly different from the one he knows. tensions between autobots and decepticons are rising, and the banks aren't holding up that great. swindle finds himself in a tight spot (financially speaking) since he still has to deal with his losses from quintessa. unable to go back to his actual merchant job, swindle resorts to taking odd jobs to keep himself afloat (yes, even stealing)

when the war breaks out, swindle gets drafted into the front lines (a decision that still baffles him to this day). since he's not much of a fighter, the autobots have swindle work as a spy, ordering him to smuggle weapons out of decepticon servos...

in future hindsight, that was a poor decision

---

wrapping it up here because i don't want this post to get too long LMAO but I still have more ideas for him if yall are interested. just know that this is not the end of swindle lore

ALSO I finally came up with autobot!swindle designations :D I've narrowed it down to 3 and I need help deciding. it's either between

quickdime - cuz. you know. he's always looking to make a quick buck

treasury - his subspace acts like a treasury if you kinda think about it

fortune - idk it sounds cute. besides fortune tends to "favor the bold and clever"

if u made it this far then congrats. thank u for listening to me yap. have a bonus doodle

[stuffnthangsss]

Gravity Falls x Percy Jackson: GF Characters as Demigods (Pines)

So I was watching the love god episode and then started thinking about gravity falls characters as demigods in the Percy Jackson universe (obsession with Epic the Musical came back, so PJO obsession tangentially as well). But this is what I was thinking! Might do art of this, idk yet.

Mabel as an Apollo kid!! Her artsy-ness and sunshine disposition sold it for me. So many crafts and making the stan wax statue! A sweater that *lights* up? I mean, cmon.

Her love of music and dance!

Also, Apollo deals with archery and I think her grappling hook skills could carry over to that? Like once she gets to Camp Half-Blood?

The other possibility for Mabel I thought of was a kid of Aphrodite bc of her love for love. Also, I think Mabel can be persuasive with her words (like Stan ig) so I can see charm speak for her.

EDIT: Apollo is also the god of plagues and this point is a stretch but it’s kinda a connection to Mabel accidentally causing weirdmaggedeon?

Oh Quora also says Apollo was a caretaker of cattle and sheep which reminds me of that short where Mabel helps the 8 legged cow escape!! Omg. Tell me she wouldn’t get along extremely well with Bessie the ophiotaurus from PJO.

Then, I thought of Stan and at first I was like, he could be a centaur like Chiron?? BUT then I thought of the angsty idea of him being a Hermes kid!

Stan being kind of crook and thus a child of the god of THIEVES/TRADE/WEALTH/MERCHANTS/TRICKERY/mischief/cunning?? It works.

Hermes also being a “protector” and one of Stan’s biggest character traits is being a natural protector.

Tumblr doesn’t let me post more than 10 photos smh so this’ll be split into 3 parts!!

Click here for Pt. 2, Pt. 3 (More on Stan + Ford, then Dip!), Pt. 4 (Soos, Wendy, Robbie, Pacifica), Pt. 5 (Fiddleford & Lil Gideon).

Pls, PLS share ur thoughts <33.

[edges-of-night]

Omg I'm like in love with ur blog rn 💕💕 I was wondering if you could do one where the reader comes from a culture that honors warriors and such (kinda like the dwarves)? And so the reader is basically very skilled with weaponry, fighting...etc

Thank you sm 💕

Thank you for your patience with this request – it was a lot of fun to write! Enjoy!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Having traveled a lot, Aragorn is familiar with your culture, though he has never been as close to someone from it as you. Seeing your famed warrior skills in person surprises him quite a bit – in a good way. He is enamored with the way you carry yourself and your weapons and, most importantly, how you lack a taste for cruelty and instead embrace mercy. He never gets tired of telling you that; it’s a value you both share.

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Arwen has great respect for you, since she is familiar with your warrior culture through her noble schooling. That said, she is also quite determined to introduce you to the finer side of life – something that you were never comfortable with or had any experience in. After all, the folk back home frown upon elaborate gowns and indulgent balls – but Arwen doesn’t care about your clumsiness. She always has a big smile on her face when you practice dancing! ♡

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Up until meeting you, Boromir has thought your people belonged to the realm of legends and children’s stories. Imagine his surprise when his rescue from the Orc attack came in the form of such a legendary warrior, dashing, loud and proud! To top it all off, you do not see the big deal of the affair and act very casual around the starstruck soldier. One smile is enough to make Boromir realise he has fallen for what he would’ve deemed a fairytale just one day ago!

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

Elrond deeply appreciates how dutiful and tidy you are. You two are much alike in that regard. The kind Elf values your time together. That is the reason he sometimes wishes you were his little secret – he is quite tired of the ‘scandal’ your presence in Rivendell is to some particularly insular individuals. Whenever someone would dare to even insinuate bigotry toward you, Elrond would be the first to defend you – rather ardently, too, having served in war himself: “Let us see how you speak of them after having your life saved in a bloody battle!”

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

Éomer may always say that he admires a fellow warrior – but the truth is, he first needs to come to terms with the fact that you are much more skilled and experienced than him. That is difficult for him precisely because he could very well imagine you as his romantic partner, but he knows that a relationship with such envy would be hard. The solution to his distress is hand-to-hand combat, which you never particularly cared for since it is not regarded as important in your culture. But dear Éomer is more than eager to practice with you!

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

It is absolutely needless to say that Rohan’s Shieldmaiden would be head over heels for you – but anyway! Not only does Éowyn love how adamant and strong you are, she adores training and sparring together with you. Her enthusiasm for your warrior culture can be overwhelming at times. You sometimes need to remind her that you are more than that. For a change, Éowyn would then teach you the songs of Rohan or tries to cook with you!

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

Faramir adores you a lot. He would offer to be your squire and tend to your weapons, your armour, as well as your wounds after a fight. He would always make sure you never lost that spark in your eyes – he loves it too much! And while he is a very skilled archer and captain himself, he would never miss an opportunity to announce you to his enemies or bullies. He would also defend you ardently against anyone who criticises your perceived ‘lack of culture’ and give them an entire lecture of your people’s history and customs.

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo would’ve never known you were real. He has read about your people in his books and even imagined himself as such a warrior when he was a child. To meet you in person delights him to no end – he has a bit of a celebrity crush on you! However, with his attention so sharp, Frodo wouldn’t fail to notice your distress in social interactions. But luckily, being both a gentleman and social butterfly, he can help you with that – maybe in turn for a show with your knives?

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Galadriel has understood that you were the perfect bodyguard for her very early on. Other Elves may frown upon that – a warrior brute, without any regard for royal protocol or knowledge of Elven culture? So close to the Lady of Light, all day and night? But Galadriel doesn’t care a bit. She delights in the stories you tell her and even shows an interest in your swords, though a sorceress as powerful as her would never need one herself. She never treats you disrespectfully and values your opinion.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf cares very little for your culture’s glorification of warfare and honour. He’s seen the negative fallout of such extremes and is thus wary around you at first. Once he understood that you had a sense of humour though, he’d tease you quietly or give a flippant comment about one of your culture’s idiosyncrasies. It’d all be in good faith – Gandalf knows of the importance of self-defense, for example. Still, he much prefers just drinking a cup of tea with you ♡

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

You could bond almost instantly with Gimli. You two speak the same language. There is, of course, an element of rivalry – especially when it comes to axes. That said, Gimli would absolutely fall head over heels for you after seeing just how skillfully and lightly you could handle hatchets and axes alike. Maybe you’d even “show him how it’s done” and then nonchalantly lean against the weapon, giving him a smirk – he’d melt on the spot!

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

Haldir would, as always, pretend very hard that he doesn’t care at all for your weapon skills, stealth and sense of duty, and instead even show great disgust for your perceived lack of etiquette and politeness. But the truth is that you are the most intriguing and alluring creature he has ever met! He has always aspired to your level of conscientiousness and combat skills. He’d never say that, of course… but he might just challenge you to a duel and see how it goes – fully aware he would never stand a chance against you!

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

Legolas definitely has a thing for warrior types like you. He delights in your strength, skills and sense of duty. After all, he himself is an enthusiastic archer and wants to learn as much as he can from you. That said, he also teaches you some much needed levity – not every social interaction is a battle! Observing you amuses him a whole lot, but his smirk is never cruel. He is also the perfect partner to help you unwind after a stressful day of etiquette and polite smiles – he just gets you!

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry is a big fan of warriors. He yearns for your respect and affection – so much so that he’d greatly exaggerate his own combat skills to you, thinking he’d need to be just as martial as you to deserve your love. That is of course not the case, though you appreciate the effort he goes through. You would bond over combat training and philosophy alike. Merry is quick and eager to learn as much about your culture as possible.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Pippin doesn’t know about the prejudice the old Hobbits have towards your people and thus treats you very differently than the others. He’d ask questions about war and honour that many would deem inappropriate. Even you yourself have to admit he is sometimes a bit overly eager. That said, Pippin would just as merrily introduce you to Hobbit customs, food and history. He’d also make a big point of the Tooks being “perhaps the most warrior-like Hobbits there ever were, honestly”, with an important look on his face, before breaking into laughter upon seeing you smile.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Sam leaves all the fighting stuff to you. He may dutifully separate the warrior and Hobbit cultures, but he really loves the dynamic you two share. He never shuts up about how proud your people must be of you, back home, seeing just how amazing of a fighter you are – sometimes that just means shooting an arrow to get a particularly red apple from a tree. To you, it’s a simple game, but Sam always kisses your cheek with great gratitude afterwards ♡

[colliope]

How date-able are twst boys? ♡

inspired by @sunsguilt

Features all chars, and gets pretty suggestive btw. Otherwise mostly crack +fluff

a/n: my first writing! I hope u enjoy :) if not then go die i guess

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋ ♡Heartslabyul ♡

Riddle Rosehearts - I don't ljke him. If we're talking pre-overblot he'd banish you to that headlock thing with his unique magic if you ever tried to ask him out or flirt with him. Post-overblot hed be really shy in getting into a relationship but wants to be cared for and protected. But he's not standing up for u in front of his mom tho you'll have to deal with her urself

6/10 he’s a sweet boy, just too bossy and not assertive enough to his mom. Divorceablity is quite high with this one.

Cater Diamonds - low-key relatable to me. BUT. His slang gets annoying after a while. His constant posting without peoples permission is weird too. Picture this. He's meeting your family for the first time, and you sit to have dinner. Cater takes a pic of you guys and posts it with the caption "With bae their fam, I'm a bit nervous guys wish me luck!🥺"#girldad #boymom #saveme Your family assumed it's his humor. WRONG. It's his way of coping with his uncomfortability. When it's silent during dinner he says" OH EM GEE GIRLYPOPS!!!, this food is so SLAY💅!! Tysm bestiessss" Your family gives him the nastiest side eye. He never speaks again. 

7/10 he seems to be a pretty sweet and understanding person, just needs better ways to express himself . Also he calls your mother queenie.

Trey Clover - he’s an interesting guy. You'll typically see him as an npc, but he's much more than that. Have you seen his *tips fedora * "m'lady" stare?? Yeah there's definitely something strange going on there. He's a pretty family oriented guy tho, and he loves to bake for his s/o and to provide comfort and care.

8/10 he's probably one of the more normal ones that I would actually date. Or be friends with. Just keep one eye open when your sleeping with ur with him tho

Ace Trappola- I don't understand how someone could even like him. He's the kinda kid to push you off the swing during recess and when you tell the teacher he'll go like "NUH UH!! THEY HIT ME FIRST!!" . Plus he's canonically not a good partner lmaoooo

3/10 he’s not even a middle schooler. Too pebble brained. Don't date a gremlin like him. maybe if he finds someone like him he might maintain a steady relationship.

Deuce Spades- no thoughts head empty. He needs a little direction in life but he's got a goal in mind. He's a lil stupid but he's getting there. He's such so sweet and silly you have to love him. But he needs to mature a bit before entering a long term relationship 

6/10 not my type, I would go for his mom instead. Plus his dad is literally dr.eggman, that explains everything. but yeah he's got what It takes, be kind to him. He's fragile. Like an egg.

ᓚᘏᗢ Savannaclaw ᓚᘏᗢ  

Leona Kingscholar - girl he is 21 years old he should be in the CLUB!!!!! But no. He's sitting alone eating Kentucky fried chicken alone on a Friday night. If he really wanted someone, he could go for it, but he seriously can't be bothered. If you do manage to get him attached to you it'll take him a while to fully love you as much as you love him, as well as put in the same amount of effort .

7/10- I don't think he genuinely needs a partner. He's got his own issues to sort out. But when he falls, he falls hard. I wonder how hard his abs are.

Ruggie Bucchi - Rugbartholomew !!!! The scrunkly. The scrimp. It'll be so fun horsing around with this guy. Being his s/o is like being his partner in crime. It'll be fun, and you guys support each other . He really cares abt his loved ones and always tries to bring something to the table for them, literally and metaphorically. Midnight runs to seven eleven. He's working 10 jobs at a time. He's EMPLOYED. He's a boyemployee. He just needs his girlboss to complete him.

5/10 he's a bit scummy tbh. It'll take him a while to fully trust someone. He’d do some sleazy things for money. It also gives you the ick when he smells donuts and starts floating towards them.

Jack Howl- he's surprisingly normal. He's got a set sleep schedule , he's healthy, he has set routines, and healthy coping mechanisms. But that's the thing. as much as he is such a caring and gentle lover, these routines take up most of his life and time. He would be waking you up at ungodly hours for a morning jog only for you to pass out midway to Mount Kilimanjaro. .

7/10 -he dates for marriage, and he’s really serious about his future and starting a family. So he’s such a loyal and protective guy. He's just too much of a gym bro. He prefers pre-workout over partners. Also he unironically likes alpha/werewolf quotes.

𓆝𓆟𓆜 Octivinelle 𓆝𓆟𓆜

Azul Ashengrotto- I love him so much. He's so me guys you don't get it (capitalism) but that aside, HES SO DAMN WEIRD LMAOOOOOO like he thinks he has rizz but he just looks like a Reddit 'nice guy'. Legitimately says m'lady. He gives off the fake dating trope to me. He'd date you to get something out of you but then actually fall hard bc he's touch starved and longs to feel emotionally vulnerable but is afraid of it. So he's an absolute mess in a relationship and needs a lot of reassurance. But yeah he's pretty bitchless 

7/10 he's gorgeous, but he sounds like that one pufferfish singing thing. I relate to him a lot so he gets points. Also since his parents are divorced he definitely has a high divorceability. I have a theory in the works that since we don't know who his biological father is, it might just be Mr. Krabbs. Like it's never said he's a full octopus (to my knowledge). SpongeBob and squidward are Floyd and Jade respectively. SpongeBob X twisted wonderland when?

Floyd Leech- he drank battery acid as a baby. Like dude you're in love with a nuclear fission bomb. If you like Floyd, you're just as fucked up as he is. It's okay tho, he's a very physically affectionate guy and may be overly possessive and obsessive but that's just his charm dw abt it. He also does thing like "if you hug me, expect a little nibbling on your earlobe 😝" and he bites off your entire ear.

2/10 his kisses taste like fish and sheet metal, and he licks short peoples heads when no one's looking. 

Jade Leech- if you saw him eat mushrooms well no you didn't because if he eated mushrooms then he would have not eating mushroom bc no . His version of love is psychological warfare . He’s a mysterious guy. Let's set a scenario for him. You're sitting in the monstro lounge. You see a tall, dark and handsome man across the bar with a mysterious aura. You catch his gaze and quickly dart your eyes away. But his never stop staring at you. He comes up to you and you guys chat naturally . He buys you a drink, your favorite actually. He knows all the ways to make you swoon. He’s so dreamy. Then he says that he put cyanide in your drink as joke. Then he lets it slip he's been stalking you for days. You find out his a wanted criminal. And end scene. Yeah that's romance with him. 

4/10 he's an attentive and observant guy, but sadly that's way before you guys are dating and he's a psych ward escapee.

𓄼𖣠 Scarabia 𖣠𓄹

Kalim Al-Asim - OTTERRRR!!! I love otters. He’s like deuce. But rich. And more innocent(ignorant). He’s so head over heels for his s/o bro. He’d shower them with his love and gifts. He still has a lot to learn in life, but he's willing to give it all to you. You should be honored.

6/10 he's my son. Treat him well. I can’t forgive him for what he did to Jamil tho. 

Jamil Viper- AWWHH YEAH BABY!!! He’s so Fine oml. But personal bias aside, he's very much insane. He’s just a closeted insane.pre-overblot he wouldn't even date u bro he would pretend u don't exist but then hate u being around Kalim. Post-overblot he accidentally avoids you because he has no idea how to express or hide his feelings for you. Okay but definitely has w rizz. Azul seethes at the sight him. Like chewing up his fedora and spitting it out type shit. Men wish they were Jamil. 

8/10 he's so wifey, he can cook he can clean  I will give him a ring if u don't. Minus points for the attempted murder, but still he's pwetty so I forgive him (*^ω^*) . He probably once got hit in the head with a basketball with you looking.

⊹𖥔˖࣪ Pomefiore⊹𖥔˖࣪ 

Vil Schoenheit - okay this one's hard cus he's literally just my mother. But more fierce diva cunty. I've been sleeping on his character ngl, but now that I think about it he's pretty relatable. Like everyone wishes to be beautiful, in some sort of way. I think in a relationship he'll need some reassurance about his looks, but also about it his partner only wants him for his looks. I don't think he actually has high standards, he would probably want someone pretty normal, but also takes good care of themselves, not just appearance-wise.

8/10 he's pretty good as an s/o, but the fame aspect will make things very difficult. Also expect him to be brutally honest with you or pick apart your appearance. He's just trying make sure u look ur best bro he's caring like that. Would make an excellent rupauls drag race judge.

Rook Hunt - I have sent a nuke to your exact coordinates. Why would u want him bro he’s Fr*nch AND a felon. There's no good aspects of this relationship he has negative rizz and his fucking bob makes him look like SpongeBob took the gay potion from the dark web at 3 am. also, he's already mentally married you and has your wedding dress prepared as well as a loan taken out for your new family home before you even know his name. 

0/10 Mr Electric KILL HIM!!! Probably the kinda guy to post a selfie captioned "who want me" and then before epel can reply "the mental hospital " his post gets taken down due to mass reporting and his account gets suspended and he's put on an fbi watchlist.

Epel Felmier- ngl mood bro. It's so annoying being seen as fragile and weak simply for your inherent femininity.I believe in a relationship he'd want someone that tells him what he wants to hear. He'll have some trouble accepting some facts, especially with his anger issues, but he'll learn to sort that out. He's a sweet boy at heart. He just feels he needs to overcompensate due to his appearance.

6/10 I'm not an anger issues kinda guy. It takes resilience to deal with, something i don't have for that. He probs listens to red pill podcasts while on a tractor. He's a 14 year old boy who just discovered Andrew Tate (he's deathly afraid of women)

꒷꒦꒷Ignihyde꒷꒦꒷

Idia Shroud- no. I have no idea how you could have feelings for him if you've never seen him. And definitely not online bc 1. He would never engage in that 2. Theres nothing romantic about the call of duty lobby. Also another guy with negative rizz. But not like in the creepy way like rook but in a loser way. He genuinely believes he is unfit for a relationship and that he is undeserving of love. If somehow he finds someone like that he'd be attached to them until the day he dies.

8/10 I love me a loser boy. He def has trust issues and paranoia but who doesn't in this game. He's rich so he could spoil u with the battle pass for literally any game. Plus ortho ends up becoming your little brother too. It's a win-win. Also don't ask him if the carpet matches the drapes.

Ortho Shroud- would probs hire u to date his brother out of genuine fear the dude would be alone for the rest of his life.

𓆩 ♡ 𓆪Diasomnia𓆩 ♡ 𓆪

Malleus Draconia - his prehistoric charm and awkward demeanor had captivated you, it seems. But yeah he's the kinda guy to say lines like "For the world could be dying and I would have never noticed it because I would have been not paying attention to the world itself, but would be gazing into your eyes watching them shine like the stars". He's soooo down bad. he's so happy to finally have someone to love him. Very very very loyal. But sometimes toes the line of yandere. 

9/10 he's so wonderful. All he wants is to love and be loved. But he still thinks of romance in this Victorian ages and gets hard when he sees your ankles or sumn.

Lilia Vanrouge- this Gent a wee bit peculiar innit? He has connections within the furry community that could destroy your life in seconds. He's everything. He’s everywhere. All at once. He genuinely has dabbled in many different things over the years , so he'll never run out of stories to tell. Many 3 am Minecraft dates. Those upside down  Spider-Man kisses. He’s more than ready to settle down with someone have kids of his own. Maybe have a girl. Name her draculaura, you know the rest. He probably went to monster high ngl. But he's a much more mature kinda guy. Definitely knows what he wants in a relationship. He's reasonable too. But you guys don't sleep in the same bed he hangs from the ceiling in a sleeping bag.

9/10 he's a bit vertically challenged and sometimes summons ancient demons by accident. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear in forgotten languages.

Silver - he's the female gaze bro. He's gorgeous . He’s legitimately a normal dude. But I don't think he's even been near a woman before. No rizz. Just soldier and eepy. But he definitely wants an s/o who can care for him a lot considering his narcolepsy. It's something that worries him a lot, and needs a person who's full of love to give, not only to him but to his family. But you're always welcome to nap with him underneath a tree in the warm sun.

7/10 he's a bit narrow-minded, only having a few goals set in mind and a strict regimen as a soldier. You have to work around that and his disorder in order to be his s/o. It's a lot dude. Especially when he leans in for a kiss but falls asleep inside and hits his head on the way down and gets brain damage.

Sebek Zigvolt- this gator wouldn't last a day in the Everglades bruh ‼️🚫I actually despise him. I have a picture of him in my room that I chew on when I get angry. Why is he always yelling. Why is he so obsessed with malleus even outside of his job. Actually, he probably leaves you for malleus. no chance with him bruh. But seriously you need to be super determined to get with him if you manage go past his alarm clock-like exterior. he's lonely.

3/10 I would turn him into a purse.his version of dirty talk is going "do you have a moment to talk about our lord and savior wakasama-" and then you make him put his clothes back on and leave.

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Thank you for reading!  ₍˄·͈༝·͈˄₎◞ ̑̑