#thought of wanting to draw and felt like crying instead im never this torn up over existing why is it so hard lately…

[mudsbray]

So is it like. is life supposed to be a never ending battle of feeling More Depressed by the day every time i have to prepare to go to work. Uehh?

[marionettedupaincheng]

could I get some advice.

so im living in a new place and I just moved in a couple of days ago. now I love my roommate, she’s a complete sweetie, and I have no issues w her. however, on our first day, she gave me the heads up that she was going to bring ppl over and I was like that’s fine. i thought i was going to be okay W it and I was!! i had fun w them but then I ended up gravitating towards my own room bc I was getting tired and needed an area to relax. im not sure what happened but I ended up crying. for some reason i suddenly felt overwhelmed and I wanted to sleep but then I felt frustrated bc suddenly everything felt crowded and there were so many ppl and I missed my parents. i ended up trying to settle myself and walk to the bathroom so I could call my dad and ask him if I could stay the night.

i rlly tried to seem okay bc I wasn’t exactly mad at anyone. i just felt suffocated and I needed to get out and get some space. i wasn’t trying to draw attention to myself but our living room is rlly small and unfortunately i knew I was going to get attention :/ I rlly tried to seem okay but the way I sounded like, they all probably thought I had an family emergency or something. they all asked what happened and I said I needed to leave and go home. I could’ve probably reacted better and come up with a better excuse but I was rlly emotional and I couldn’t outright say it was bc of them. there were 5 of them in the living room so ofc I felt a lil crowded and it sucked to feel like that on my first day at my new place. i would never blame anyone tho, it wasn’t even my intention to ruin their fun.

i texted one of my own personal friends who was there that night bc I needed some advice regarding how to talk to my roommate ab boundaries and all that bc that situation made me realize I should talk ab what im ok and I’m not ok w for my roommate.

i explained in further depth what I was going through and instead she had told me to get over it and said that me crying while leaving created this whole issue where my roommate’s friends left immediately after I did and felt like they caused a problem. in hindsight, I should’ve seen it coming. im torn between feeling angry and guilty.

i hate to think I made her friends feel bad ab what happened but im also just angry at my friend for saying that.

im already planning on clearing this up, but was I wrong for leaving in the first place?

[20thcentury-kylo]

Tides Of Memory

(prologue)

Well here it is- sorry this has taken me so long, I'm not really the best artist n such but here is The prologue chapter to Tides Of Memory 

                                                          Enjoy~ 

Sometimes.... he still dreams of their words... 

"Just breathe- it'll all be fine🎶" 

Delicate melodies offset by somber guitar strums... The lyrics plague his memory, repeating in endless loops. Strangely enough he feels something similar in his current state. 

Alas the boy assumes that's all they are- bizarre, sorrowful dreams. 

Xx

To Kiome, Ebisu is the closest thing he has to a home. The smiles of his rosé haired boyfriend made him feel more at home, than any foster family could. Ebisu was his tether, the source of the light in his eyes- He was without a doubt the love of Kiome's life. Even more so now as gazes up at the aspiring musician, listening to the slow harmony of the boy's soft tones... 

"I knocked on your bedroom door, and waited for you to enter~" He knows to cherish these moments, etch them deep within his heart to captivate him forever... Ebisu with his eyes closed absently guiding his hand from note to note, sings the soft tune. The song which he curiously named San Diego, is one of goodbyes, and wistful memories. Yet he plays it in such a way that one cannot help but to have hope, it's a feeling Kiome understands all too well. 

"I bought you a crimson rose, smelled just like you did~" The feeling washes over him in a soft murmur, and the boy decides that he should do something about the space between them. Face to face, heart to heart- his lips utter nothing but his eyes speak a thousand ballads in a silent attempt to intertwine his soul even further with his beloved. A slightly shaken hand reaches to cradle the musician's cheek, the subsequent blush from Ebisu spurring him on further. Their lips meet in a soft meld, fluttering beats pulling one another closer. And amidst the safe stillness of that lamp lit bedroom- he feels... they both feel- complete. 

--- 

"Daring- I love you🎶~" 

Learning of his power, and his true destiny.. Kiome almost lost it all. The fear of losing what little he had in froze him- What if he couldn't win, what if he couldn't protect them all. Such worries cloud his mind, there is no confidence in the subtle whispers of his newly acquired sword. But of course not, they do not hold the voice of his beloved. So as the swordsman sits paled in moonlight, he thinks of nothing but their voice. 

"If only we could fly across the nether~" A subtle smile of relief finds its way onto Kiome's expression. He scoots over, making room for Ebisu to sit with him. 

"Hey... how are ya holdin up?" The question forces a sigh from his lips... they're trembling. 

"I won't lie- I'm... scared out of my mind right now.." Ebisu reaches for his hand, and Kiome can feel the tremors in his soul calm at the contact. Gradually all the doubts he'd been suppressing float to the surface and out through his stuttered words. 

"I-I just- don't wanna forget you, wherever I end up." They're on borrowed time, and he can hear each Jarring tick pass them by. Stray tears escape the poor boy's eyes, he's trying to stay strong, if not for himself then for Ebisu. His own depressing thoughts are cut short by the warm embrace of his partner. 

"I Promise- You won't!!" It's a declaration that could pierce the heavens, Kiome notices that he's started to tear up as well yet says nothing.

Ebisu pulls back- flush faced yet Smiling nonetheless. His breaths are shaking, and his words flitter out sporadically, but Kiome knows- he knows and he couldn't be more thankful. 

"No matter what happens to us- to our memories..." He's suddenly quiet, his features holding a wistful hope. Kiome can't help but awe at how beautiful he is. 

"No matter what- every song I've written, every note, every memory... they'll be right here- etched in my heart.." Ebisu gazes at him with a look that peers straight into his core, he means this... And the embrace that follows is almost too poetic for words. 

"Ditto~" Kiome swears on this life, and every past life he's apparently had- he'd never forget this for as long as his existence still burned. 

--- 

The 1st thing that comes to him is the overwhelming burning stench as he looks upon the scene before him. They'd come for him. This was it- nowhere for Kiome to run. He steels himself with thoughts of his beloved, gripping his sword tighter. 

"Darling~ I love you🎶~" 

Ebisu was safe.. he'd made sure of that before ever considering this fated clash. If he survived this... he just might have to marry the ocean eyed musician. It gives him the will to move forward- When he survived this, he was definitely marrying him. The voices whispering from within his sword hum in agreement, giving him the confidence he needs to charge into danger. He couldn't die here- not when he had someone to live for. 

-- 

The beast's endless roars are all but deaf to him. Kiome stands, eyes burning bright. This is it- do or die... His sword rests firmly in his grasp- his strength does not waver, even for a moment. Each step is another reminder of what he's fighting for- each strike he bears the shock in stride, like hell was he gonna fall here... 

His body may betray his intentions- writhing with bloodied bruises and aching muscles.. But his heart can't give up now- his very soul screams out in defiance. The exception before him seems to hear this cry- as it stumbles back before giving a scream of its own. 

And as he braces himself to fight on.. the words echo ever so clearly in his head 

'Darling- I love you~" 

-- 

"Kiome!! Please... stay with me-" He can't feel his body anymore... 

Ebisu sits there- cradling the dying body of his beloved- blood covered, and practically torn to pieces... his eyes won't open. 

"Kiome!!" Ebisu's presence is the only thing keeping him from letting go completely... He wants to see his face.. To tell him not to weep for the foolish.. 

"I'm here.." Opening his eyes sends surges of blinding pain through his retinas.. but the moment that pink hair and rosy cheeks come into view- such pain is all but forgotten. He can't hear the exception anymore- guess he must've won. Then again... at what cost. 

"Why so sad.." Ebisu won't stop crying- and the sight of it brings tears to his own eyes. Suddenly the reality that he probably won't survive this  hits him all at once, and it's only through sheer exhaustion that he doesn't break down weeping then and there. Instead he sighs with a shaky breath, and gazes into his beloved's eyes for what he thinks to be the last time... 

"My time here is running short🎶" Ebisu's expression shifts, before he graces the dying boy with a tearful smile... 

"Your kisses were my ambrosia🎶"Ebisu leans down and lays a soft kiss onto Kiome's forehead- Kiome can feel a tear drop ever so slowly... 

"They melted into my skin🎶" A soft light begins to emerge from Kiome's core. This... was the end. He doesn't take his eyes off Ebisu for a moment- he'd burn the image of his beautiful face into his heart.. so he'd never forget.. 

"Darling... I love you" 

Xx 

The subtle morning light peaks through the dorm windows- rousing it's residents from slumber. He opens his eyes to find that they're wet with tears... 

'Again huh-'Kiome has had the same dream for the 3rd time this week. Of places he's never been, of people he's never met... of love he's never felt. But they're just dreams- he muses to himself. They meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Yet as he prepares for the day- eating his breakfast that Shiro so graciously prepared and brushing his teeth before heading to class- a strangely familiar tune remains stuck in his head... 

"I knocked on your bedroom door🎶~"He wonders where he could've heard it...

-PROLOGUE END-

Once again im really sorry for this taking so long- anywho i hope you enjoyed, i plan to update this semi frequently with a few drawings to complement each chapter (ReBlogs and Comments Are very much appreciated I wanna hear what you guys think uwu)

~Till Next Chapter~

[adashelbysgirlfriend]

Polly’s Daughter - Headcannon

request ; Hey! Would you consider making headcanons for being Polly's lost daughter and how she would react to the daughter just appearing one day telling her that they just told Polly that she's dead to keep her away? And how Polly would react and treat her afterwards + how the rest of the family would? 💜

i think this is a genius idea tbh; mainly because i refuse to believe in a world where Anna Gray isn't alive. I just need Polly to be happy? i don't think thats asking too much. So yer, thank you for this - you've fuelled my domestic fantasy where Polly has a full family and is never sad again. This one also hits hard for me because my mum was adopted as a baby, and I've always grown up wondering who my biological grandma is - so however you are and wherever you are granny i hope youre rocking on and having a good old time!

i kinda wrote this from like the readers point of view? i don't know why i just liked the flow better that way. Anyway, i hope you like it! and NEVER hesitate to send in a Polly related request because i ADORE the woman. Iconic. 

i feel like she’d grow up dreaming of a your mum coming to find you 

because you were a few years older than 

but with every birthday and Christmas without so much as a card, it would kinda harden you into hating Polly for leaving you like that 

being moved to Australia and completely giving up on her ever trying to find you 

trying really hard to not repeat your mothers mistakes

being as responsible as possible

finally ending up with a family that keeps you around long enough for you to build up some sort of trust system and being a second mum to their other kids

you'd found out your mother was looking for you and freaked the fuck out

shock turned into anger

the woman who left you, didn't love you like any decent mother would, now wanted to meet you on her terms

absolutely not 

no way

especially when you heard that the Tommy Shelby of Small Heath was the one putting feelers out for you 

but being brought up in the care system (or lack there of it) had made your mind somewhat deviant and street smart 

you also knew quite a few undesirable members of society, some of which had a level of power

it wasn't hard for them to formulate a fake paper trail 

and just like that, Anna Gray was officially dead

you stayed in Australia but never felt settled again after that 

as you got older, became an adult, the earlier anger turned into hurt

why had she left you?

why did she want you back?

i feel like these emotions would brew for a while but it would take a personal event to make you finally snap and want to go find Polly

you’ve always been careful with sleeping with men and not becoming a mum yourself so young but like you end up a month late for your period and are convinced   you’re pregnant

queue storm of Angst 

never feeling so close to understanding your mums decision as this

you go to the doctors and you aren't, but it sticks with you

or maybe its just when you have to leave your new family and move out alone, you realise how hard it is to be by yourself in the big city and also how much you need family

you go to Birmingham a month later

youre SHIT scared

and not just because youre well aware of the status your mothers family has

massive fear of rejection 

youre well aware of the time thats passed in-between her looking for you and you actually showing up

 what if she doesn't want to see you anymore?

what if she does but youre just not what she expected and she doesn't want to know you?

standing on her doorstep for like a good half hour before knocking

which alerts the boys that something fishy is going on 

her coming to the door and you just standing there like a lemon with no clue what to say even though you've been literally planning this moment for as long as you can remember 

finally getting the words out and making Polly the speechless one

she definitely doesn't fully believe you 

she wants too, with her whole heart, but she doesn't think its possible for you to be alive so she thinks its some sick joke by one of their enemies 

she definitely slaps you

you slap her back obviously 

she's crying and shouting and you’re crying and shouting

everyones confused

Tommy and John coming out to break up whatever going on

“who Tommy?! who would send some whore and have them to pretend to be my Anna?”

“Oh IM the whore? who left who? i can't believe i even bothered coming all this way, all you've ever been is a disappointment, i wish i was dead so i never had to meet you “

Tommy and John feeling like they are watching Polly fight with Polly 

“Pol, its her” 

“How! How can i be her Tom?!”

“Just look at her Pol” 

“Holy shit Pol, its definitely her” - John ever so eloquently adding in his two cent 

ending up inside with Polly

the lads being nervous to leave you two together just incase you fight again but her sending them away

as soon as you start talking instead of shouting, she can take a proper look at you 

and bOY do you look like her

it makes her feel warm and violently sick all in one

she probably actually has to excuse herself to vomit

she just needs to hold you 

its a bit uncomfortable and awkward at first but then it all hits you at once and you can't stop yourself from sobbing 

she's sobbing too 

fuck me man everyones sobbing tbh

just sitting like that for hours, until you have no more tears to cry

“well lass, you’re far too skinny” 

feeding you 

drawing you a bath

putting the fire on for you 

making sure she sets up a bed for you so you’re comfortable and i don't mean calling the maid in to do it, she wants to do it by hand so she knows its perfect

it taking a long time for you to trust her fully 

but Polly literally doing everything she can to show you she will always regret losing you that day

finding out it wasn't her fault

“I didn't want to lose you, you or Michael, they took you away but i never ever stopped loving you. I thought about you every morning when i woke up and every night before i went to sleep, even after i thought you were gone’

meeting the boys properly 

Tommy is cautious of you at first, not wanting to see Polly hurt but he grows to trust you and love you in his own nonchalant  way 

John and you being a comedy double act, you get his respect from day one for straight up fighting Polly fucking Gray in the street, and everyone else enjoys seeing him be torn apart by your humour 

Arthur sees you as his little sister, would protect you with him whole life

Michael doesn't really remember you that well, but you grow to become siblings again

Ada has you over for sleepovers at least once a week, and youre even trusted to look after little Karl for her, she loves you and is the big sister you never thought you needed, but she also respects you for what you've been through and is always checking in and making sure youre okay and reminding you that youre part of a family now

Finn is probably the first ti accept you because its Finn guys, what an angel we STAN 

it definitely takes a while, but youre glad of the day you stepped foot on Polly doorstep

and none of them can imagine life without you now.

[29-pieces]

Whumptober day 6 - The Musketeers

Day 6: No More Fandom/Setting: The Musketeers, pre-series (new recruit!Athos) read on AO3 read on FF.net

~*~

Athos could smell the blood as he pushed into the tiny cell ahead of the other musketeer, a burly brawler named Porthos. It boded poorly for the man they'd been sent to find. Though the careful blankness of his expression never shifted, Athos couldn't help but pause as he took in the sight of the prisoner.

Porthos, in contrast, shoved past him with a cry.

"Aramis! Aramis... God, don' be dead, please don' be dead..."

Athos raised a hand to his mouth and forced himself to remain calm and in control. He'd only worked closely with Aramis once, long enough to know the man as a perpetually cheerful if somewhat roguish lover of life, the constant center of attention, ready with a quip or a fight depending on the situation. Athos had few, if any, friends; he could have seen himself befriending this one. It didn't seem he would have the opportunity now.

"Help me cut 'im down," Porthos snapped, drawing Athos back to the present moment. "We gotta stop the bleeding. Stitch 'im up, maybe. Something."

Biting back his fear that it was too late for Aramis, Athos nevertheless moved in swiftly to help Porthos, supporting Aramis's weight as the taller musketeer drew a dagger to slice through the rope holding Aramis's arms high overhead. Athos moved to set him carefully on the floor, but Porthos scooped him up instead.

"Not in here," Porthos bit out. "Outside. I've got him, just keep our path clear."

Again, Athos bit back any remark. He had the impression that the two were close, and since he himself knew the feeling of finding a beloved brother already dead, he also knew there were no words of comfort to be had. Though they had already dispatched all of the guards, Athos nevertheless drew his sword again and led the way from the dungeons and out of the castle. None of the household staff dared show themselves and the Comte himself had yet to be seen. This, Athos knew, was not good. Soon there would be awkward questions they would have to consider.

After all, Aramis had been meeting with a Spanish spy, and the castle was a mere handful of miles to the border. The identity of a traitor and spy was valuable information. And Aramis, though a musketeer with an obviously loyal heart, had to have a breaking point like any other man.

"Where's his horse?" Porthos grunted once they'd reached the sweeping lawn out back where they had left their mounts. Aramis's had been found wandering on its own, though Athos gave Porthos an incredulous stare. Clearly Aramis wasn't riding anywhere, unless it was in the back of a cart headed for a cemetery. Perhaps Porthos read this on his face, because he snarled, "His horse, damn it! I need his bag! An' we need water, somethin' to wash these cuts out!"

"Porthos..."

"He's alive. I, uh... I ain't ever stitched anyone up before. You?"

Athos regarded the bloody mess of a musketeer that Porthos laid carefully down on the ground. "Once or twice. But-"

"Good. He's got a medical kit he keeps in th' saddlebags, dig that out. I'll get the water."

Athos watched him lumber off. He still had his doubts, but he had to admit, Porthos's ferocious faith that Aramis would still make it out of this urged him to try anyway. Rifling through the spare horse's saddlebags, Athos retrieved a leather pouch which he unrolled to reveal some of the more basic medical instruments. Also in the bag was a swath of bandages and clean rags, which he likewise retrieved. Kneeling over the unconscious musketeer, Athos looked him over helplessly, not sure where to even begin. It looked like mostly cuts and gashes from a blade, deep and nasty, and almost all would require sutures. He saw at least one burn and three broken fingers. Aramis's left shoulder was clearly dislocated.

Getting his doublet off would be a good start, but would jostle the arm too much. Athos regarded the limb, then took Aramis's arm.

"Apologies," he murmured to the unconscious musketeer, before swiftly pulling until he heard the pop of a bone returning to socket.

Aramis's eyes flew open as a garbled cry was ripped from his throat. The musketeer immediately began to thrash back from Athos, arms flailing in an attempt to protect himself. Athos grabbed Aramis's wrists in fear that the musketeer would only cause more damage to himself.

"Aramis," he called. "You're safe. It's me... Athos."

"Aramis?" Porthos had returned, carrying a bucket of water he'd procured, some of which sloshed out over the downed musketeer as Porthos flung himself by his friend's side. "Hey... hey, you're with me, you're alright."

Aramis sank back down, staring up at them through pain-glazed eyes. "Porthos," he whispered.

"Yeah, it's me. We're gonna fix you right up, okay?"

Aramis nodded, then his head drifted back to the side, eyes falling closed. Athos traded a look with Porthos over his still form, but neither spoke. Together, they worked Aramis's doublet off—it would need a myriad of repairs as well, if he survived to wear it again—and surveyed the mess. Athos retrieved the needle and thread from the medic pouch as Porthos started washing the blood away.

"Damn, he's lost a lot of it," Porthos growled. "When I get my hands on that Comte..."

"There isn't time for that," Athos reminded him as he pinched one freshly cleaned gouge together and set the needle to skin in determination. "I can sew these wounds, but we should consider the possibility that Treville needs to be warned."

Porthos stopped what he was doing to stare at him. "Warned about what?"

He really didn't want to be the one to acknowledge the risk, but if Porthos didn't then he would. "What cause would there be to torture him like this if not for the name of the spy he was sent to meet? The Comte must have learned about his mission somehow-"

"An' you think Aramis told him?"

There was a dangerous rumble in Porthos's voice, so Athos offered a deferential shrug. "I'm only saying, no one can be expected to hold out forever, no matter how loyal, and this- Porthos, they spent a lot of time on him."

"I know yer new here," Porthos seethed, jaw clenching. "An' you don't know Aramis like I do. He didn't give 'em anything. Got it?"

Torn between admiration of the loyalty and exasperation at the frank denial, Athos only nodded and went back to sewing Aramis up. He couldn't tell if Aramis was awake or not, breaths shuddering and lids closed, but if he was awake he didn't make a sound. It took what must have been hours, until Athos's hand was starting to cramp from holding the needle, back aching as he stitched as well as he could. Doubtless these would leave visible scars—he had only a rudimentary idea of how to do this, nothing fancy. But at least Aramis wouldn't bleed out from them. This done, Athos splinted the broken fingers together to be looked at when they returned to Paris and simply put a bandage over the burn, as there was no healing ointment on hand.

"What else?" he asked in exhaustion, starting to roll Aramis back onto his side to check for further injury.

The movement jostled the tortured musketeer, who inhaled sharply with a pained cough.

"No more..."

"Aramis," Porthos murmured, sounding pained himself. "I know it hurts, but we gotta make sure there's nothin' open for infection, right?"

Eyes still closed, Aramis nodded. "No more," he repeated, a little stronger.

Athos felt his shoulders grow heavy and he shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said, a rare slip of emotion and regret coloring his tone. "I believe we're almost done and then you can-"

"No... there's no more," Aramis cut him off, opening his eyes with a wince. "You got them all. I c-counted. That's all they ever managed to do."

Athos stared at him. "...That's... all?" he echoed in disbelief. There had been enough blood to drown a village in that cell, yards of thread needed to finish all the stitches, but that was "all" they'd done to him? He saw Porthos barely bite back a smirk, but in this case Athos would be more than happy to have been proven wrong.

"What did they want?" the burly musketeer asked his friend now, cupping the back of his neck carefully.

Aramis coughed. "Wanted to know who I was meeting. I don't know how word got out."

Athos traded a look with Porthos. "And...?"

"And nothing. They thought they could convince me to tell them." He snorted. "Amateurs."

Porthos laughed, relief and fondness evident in the gentle squeeze of Aramis's good shoulder. "Good thing we found you, then," he said gleefully. "Before they died of embarrassment."

"Good thing," Aramis agreed. "Was s-starting to get bored." Nevertheless, his eyes were still pained as he gripped both of their arms and didn't try to move. "Thank you."

Athos found himself smiling, not something he often did. These were men he could get used to being around, he decided. "Let's not make a repeat of this though, alright?" he dryly suggested, to be met with a tired chuckle from Aramis.

"No," the musketeer agreed, closing his eyes. "No, no more."

[lemonietrinket]

Loved ||| WayV x Reader

Summary: Everyone needs to be taken care of sometimes, no matter how strong they are. And so when you come home from an awful day in the outside world, you are blessed to have several people come and pick you up again, setting you back on your feet. Genre: Angst, but then lots of Fluff to make up for it!! And humour too bc i think im funny Warning(s): Detailed description of hardcore crying, no mention of reasons why, just left as a very bad day Word Count: 12k how the hell- Theme Song: The Flower (feat. Maximilian Hecker) - Leo; Heart Flutter - W24 AN: Request from @idont-knowabrian, I’m sorry I am depresso and thus have to make it so depresso by extension. I hope it wasn’t too angsty for you, I added lots and lots of fluff after to make up for it!! Aaaaaannd sorry for the real big wait.

EDIT: Check out the updated version here!

~~~

It had taken all of your strength to not cry on the way home on the bus. There were too many people around for you to let the tears fall, but you’d bitten your lip so hard it bled and had held your breath until you were heaving. You tried your best, turning your head into the glass and staring into the darkness outside, praying that no one turned to look back at you or your reflection.

As soon as you got off at your stop, unable to utter a ‘thank you’ to the driver which made you feel even worse (if that were even possible) your defences began to break down. 

Tears streamed down your face in the frozen evening air, slipping between your trembling lips and the salt tingling on the tip of your tongue. Your nose ran viciously because of the wind, which also mussed up your hair causing you even more frustration as you tried to hold it out of your face, only for it to cover eyes uncomfortably again.

Your voice seeped into your breath as you tried to remain silent, strained whines at the effort it took to not openly weep as you needed to, whilst you prayed endlessly that no one would pass you by on the street and see the mess you were in.

Fumbling with your keys, just inches from being inside and away from the world, almost sent you over the edge. The key had got caught in one of the keyrings and with your shivering fingers and blurry vision, it seemed the world was kicking you while you were down. 

A sob rose in your throat, and you forced it down as best you could, until finally you crashed into the house, bags toppled by the oven. Slamming the backdoor behind you with a strength you didn’t realise you had left, you slipped to the floor and sobbed so hard no noise came from your body. 

Your chest constricted upon itself, ribs very nearly bruising your lungs and heart, until you finally caught some air and howled.

You were ashamed of how you must have looked, sprawled on the kitchen floor, weeping hysterically, no doubt with a muddied skirt and torn tights and hands pressed into wet footprints upon the linoleum floor. 

If you’d been told to write the worst day you could have, today took that itinerary and then dragged it through hell. 

You didn’t have the energy to stand, even if the puddles from outside that your shoes had dragged inside were being soaked up by your shirt, barely tucked in beneath your belt anymore. 

You wished that no one would see you in this state. But the world wasn’t particularly on your side. 

You just about heard the footsteps outside, before the door opened. You didn’t bother to look up. You didn’t want to know who it was, you just wanted them to go away. 

The sharp inhale that pricked at your ears only made you cry harder, the tears dripping from your cheeks and dappling the woollen sleeves over your arms.

The door closed, and the person knelt down beside your head.

The voice was hushed and filled with concern, “Y/N...!”

The man’s palms hovered above you, unsure of what the situation was and what to do about it.

It was Kun. Soft, caring, and extremely worried.

You opened your mouth to speak, but a broken cry was the only sound you could make.

“Y/N, are you...?! Ar you hurt?! Sick?!” he exclaimed, lightly brushing your hair from your face to try and understand what was wrong. “What’s wrong love? P-please, I don’t...” 

You shook your head as best you could, and as soon as he felt the wet streams upon your cheeks he seemed to understand.

“Oh, love, oh...” he trailed off, unable to find the words. Seeing you like this hurt him beyond explanation. Slipping off his shoes as quickly as he could and discarding them by the door, he reached his arms under your shoulders. “Come on, love, let’s get you up.”

He scooped you up nearly effortlessly, as you became a rag doll in his hands, limp as you head span, your weeping having constricted most of the air out of you, abandoning you to feel the consequences.

Your feet dragged as the two of you slowly made your way through the house and up the stairs. You were barely putting in any effort, too ebbed with melancholy to do so, and you quickly realised Kun was practically carrying you, doing all the heavily lifting. 

It almost made you break into fresh tears at the thought, when Kun murmured in your ear softly, “It’s ok, love, it’s going to be ok.”

It seemed that he was unfazed by your lack of input, continuing to hold you close as he whispered tiny instructions and words of support while helping you stumble into your bedroom. 

He set you down on your bed with a gentle sigh, folding some of the clothes you’d discarded on the covers that morning and moving them out of the way. “There you go, we made it upstairs.”

He came back to push the hair from your face, wiping your eyes firmly with his hand as he held it at your cheeks. “Though those clothes need a wash, love, they’re a little bit mucky.”

You felt your eyes prickle up once again, as you choked on an apology. “I... it’s m-my... fault I—the floor, I’m such... such an—”

He shushed you, stroking your hair desperately, instantly kneeling to the floor so he was closer to your head height. “Love, sweetheart, it’s ok! It’s ok, it’s not your fault!”

He cursed at the carelessness of his words. 

“The only thing is that we’ll need to get you out of these and into new ones, is what I mean, love,” he explained delicately, “I’ll go and get a new set out for you so you don’t have to do as much, and don’t worry about all the washing and drying, I’ll do all of that for you too.”

His kindness was tugging at your heart, smashing it to pieces in your vulnerable state, only to pull it all back together again.  You didn’t feel worthy of his care, but on the other hand all you wanted was him to stay and never leave you.

He stood with a final rub of your temple, enquiring which drawer had your pyjamas in them.

You shivered as you tried to work up the energy to answer him, instead barely raising a finger to the drawer second from the top of the case.

It dropped to the mattress as soon as he nodded, pulling out the warmest set he could find and placing it at your side. “You going to be alright?”

You lifted your hand to try and pick them up, only to discover it was so heavy you couldn’t lift it. You whined in frustration, which led him to immediately kneel on the carpet again.

“What’s wrong, love, do you have the energy?” he asked. “Are you too tired?”

You nodded once, which was all you could really manage. If you’d been more awake you would have questioned where all your energy had gone to specifically, never having been this lethargic before, but—and quite fairly—that would be a question for later.

You didn’t want to cause Kun anymore stress, but once again he understood. “That’s alright, love. I’ll help you then, ok?” 

He didn’t move until you explicitly agreed. In this case, it came out as another bow of the head, and another apology. “T... thank you... I’m s-so sorry, Kun...! I just-t...!”

“It’s ok, Angel, you don’t need to apologise. I’ve got you,” he assured, hushing your babbling and helping you to your feet again.

You went limp again at his words, leaning into his shoulder and focusing only on the warmth you found there. He swiftly unzipped your skirt and, after setting you back on the bed, retrieved it from your feet, throwing it surprisingly haphazardly over the back of your desk-chair. 

Raising the hem of your shirt, now freed and hanging loose, he gently dipped his fingers under the seam and began to roll them down your hips and legs, lifting you slightly whenever necessary.  The ripped tights were discarded just as the skirt was, whilst you pulled your legs up and together, desperately trying to retain heat. Your room had always been cold, though you hadn’t felt the full brunt of it until now. 

As the goosebumps rose upon your skin, Kun returned. Instinctively, he placed a hand on one of your thighs, rubbing along to try and restore some heat, as his other hand unfolded the baggy trousers of your pyjamas.

Slipping them over your feet and up to your hips, he moved onto your blouse, undoing several buttons and pulling it over your head. Stroking some strands of hair that had become dishevelled out of your eyes, he shifted to retrieve the pyjama shirt and place it over your hunched torso.

Once your head had appeared from the collar, he sent you a small, sweet smile, guiding your arms into the sleeves and pulling it finally the rest of the way. 

All done.

“Feel a little more comfortable?” His hand was at your temple again, fingers tracing tiny circles into the skin there. 

You tried to pull your eyes up to meet his gaze, but finding yourself lolling, you settled on another nod.

“Do you want to go downstairs?” he asked. 

Lethargically, you managed to reach your hand to his shoulder, attempting to haul yourself up as an affirmation.  He rolled with your action, aiding you up again, and back down the stairs.

Eventually you were on the centre of the sofa, all the remotes beside you, and Kun was stood to head to the kitchen. “I’ll make you some food? Ramyun will be good right?” he hesitated. “Or grab you some blankets, anything you need.”

You hummed sadly, trying to draw your lips together to speak.

“Yes, love?” He was so patient.

“I...” you swallowed, hands tiredly lifting away from your body and towards him, as outstretched as you could manage, “w-want a h...hug...”

His features softened even further, if that were even possible, his eyes regarding you carefully as his lips curled into a smile.

Before he could answer—and make no joke, his answer would have been to take a seat beside you and instantly take you into his arms—there was a clatter, as the door opened. Several voices swarmed over one another, littered with giggles and whoops as they bickered in the falling darkness.

Kun’s head turned to the backdoor, and he nodded as he saw the face of one of the members through the doorway. “I think you can get a really big one, now,” he remarked, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

Not quite understanding the situation, you merely pouted, feeling the burn in your heart as your mind spiralled.  He’d said no. He didn’t want to hug you. He didn’t like you, really.  You were merely a—

“Angel, I can’t leave them in charge of cooking can I?” Kun explained with a chuckle, thumb brushing a single stroke across your cheek. “Please don’t be sad, love, I’ll hug you later I promise.”

“Promise?” you asserted.

“With my whole heart.”

His words threw your own through a loop. 

Kun meanwhile called out to the others, “Welcome home! You’re late, but I’ll let it slide if you come here and help me.”

There was a couple of confused ‘eh’s until a few familiar faces came into the room, shrugging of their coats. 

You almost broke into a fresh tears as you saw Yukhei’s bright, sunny smile drop from his face when he laid eyes on you.

“Y/N?!” he exclaimed, glancing at Kun for an explanation.

At the sound of his deepset shout, Sicheng leant out from behind the giant puppy’s shoulders to see what Yukhei was so upset about. He too went from quietly happy to extremely concerned at the sight of your reddened cheeks.

You quickly became very embarrassed. You hadn’t been cute crying, exactly, and you figured you looked like a dazed, tear-stained mess. 

That was when Ten slipped past the two of them abruptly, running over to you before you could even cry in surprise. 

“No no, no...!” he cooed, perching very carefully on the edge of the sofa, body turned completely towards you as he extended his hands to your face. He dabbed at your mottled cheeks rather frantically, the coolness of his fingers making you shiver, as they were chilled the winter, whilst your skin had been made hot by tension and stress.

“No, baby, are you ok? What’s wrong? What happened?” He glanced back at Kun who was heading through into the kitchen. “Kun, is it just my hands or is she running a fever?” Before you could answer he continued, eyes shining, “Are you hurt? Sick? Did someone hurt you?”

“They better not have hurt you!” Yukhei interjected, leaning over the back of the sofa. “If they did then you tell me their names, Y/N,” he said diligently, “I’ll make sure they never even look at you again I swear—!”

Sicheng rolled his eyes, a light scoff drifting from his lips as he patted Yukhei’s shoulder once, before heading round to the chair opposite you. “It’s ok, Ten, she’s not dying.”

He’d said it with a joking lilt an a gentle tone, but Ten’s mouth hung open as he shot him a look. “I know she’s not, but she’s upset and I’m not having that!”

“Neither will I!” Yukhei emphasised, folding his arms proudly.

“Yukhei, you couldn’t hurt anyone even if you tried,” Ten sassed, turning his full attention back to you. “Now, if my girl is not sick, and not physically hurt, then I know exactly what she needs, don’t I?”

As soon as he grinned at you, you couldn’t help but let the corners of your own lips lift. And, much like a chain reaction, as soon as he saw you brighten, even if only slightly, his smile grew into a beam.

“My girl wants hugs, doesn’t she?” he murmured, giddily tapping his finger against the tip of your nose.

You couldn’t avoid emitting a squeak at the contact—his fingers were too cold—but rationale had also left you in some parts, perhaps, as you nodded eagerly, dragging your arms up and throwing them out to welcome him in.

Ten slipped back on the sofa, pulling you into his chest protectively. He was careful to place his hands where they wouldn’t touch your skin, but also where you would know he was there, and so he nestled one into your waist and the other upon the back of your head. 

Adjusting your position only slightly to lessen the pressure off the bridge of your nose, you settled you face in the nook of his neck, fingers laced in his shirt, as you took in the scent of his cologne. He must have several varieties but this one was easily your favourite—whatever it was. It was light, but deep and welcoming, with the openness of a spring day but the independence of a lucid dream, which was kind of how you felt held so close to his heart.  You could feel it beating against your arm, seeping through your sleeves and sinking into your skin, through to your own heart, which skipped as soon as the thought of it all struck your conscious mind. 

You very nearly forgot about the others around you, though as soon as you’d been dipped into the waters of serenity, you’d been pulled out by your own awareness.

Ten was stroking your hair gently, though his touch was shallow to avoid both knots and making you shiver. Kun was instructing Yukhei about something, words just out of reach for you to piece together, but no sooner than he’d finished, the boy had yelled, “group hug!” and had bounded around the sofa. You couldn’t see Sicheng, so had no idea what he was doing, but you heard a chuckle that sounded like his. And a second after you’d questioned the reasoning behind his amusement, you felt a weight crash behind you, as Yukhei joined you two on the couch.

Ten snapped up out of surprise, indicating he perhaps hadn’t seen in coming either, and with his hand leaving your head, you pressed yourself up slightly to try and get a better look at what happened.

It was no use however, because you were knocked back against Ten with a yelp from both of you, as Yukhei practically slammed his weight against your back.

Ten hauled you up as best he could so you weren’t stuck in a folded position but what you had ended up in nonetheless was still not overly comfortable. As you glanced at him you could see his lips wavering, formulating a sentence to most likely scold Yukhei with. But there was no need, as you felt a pair of much longer arms encircle you and pull you more upright, a chin coming to rest surprisingly neatly on your shoulder.

“Hi, Y/N!” Yukhei sang, tapering off into a giggle as he gave you a tiny squeeze.

You laughed bemusedly, relieved to be alive, but also welcoming the warmth from the other side. Yukhei was in fact much warmer, to the point he could be described as an actual radiator, and with him smushed against your back you felt extremely secure.

And, after a few seconds of his eyes evaluating the sight he could see but you could not, it seemed that Ten appeared to accept it eventually too. Even with you practically stolen from his arms, he laughed it off, identifying that he could be perfectly comfortable laying into you rather the other way round.

With roles reversed, Ten slipped a hand up to your collarbone, resting his head just above the other, and seeking the opportunity to wrap one of his legs over yours, which was jutting out over the side of the sofa. 

Now you could see the room more clearly, and, with a tired laugh, you waved at Sicheng who was watching the borderline catastrophe with a confused but delighted grin on his features. There was a shade to his eyes though, something that you couldn’t quite place. 

Peering over Ten’s head, you could see Kun leaning against the doorway, smiling proudly, as if the whole thing had been his doing. Though thinking back to Yukhei’s sudden but most likely inevitable surprise attack, it maybe had been.

“Hi...!” You waved at him too, leading him to chuckle.

“Hello,” he replied, “you look better already.” And with a brief scrunch of his nose, he was pushing himself off the wall’s edge and heading into the kitchen. 

You pressed you chin into the crown of Ten’s head, smiling tightly as quiet settled over the room.

You loved all of them, you honestly did, and you would never do without their bickering and yelling and screeching laughter. But it was relieving to hear peace every once in a while, with the only sound being the sound of steadied breaths—two pairs of which had become more-or-less synonymous with your own. 

“You sure you don’t want to join us, Chengie?” It was Yukhei that spoke. You could have bet a million with certainty that it would be him that broke the silence. Man could never stay quiet for long, which was often one of the most endearing parts about him, as it often led him to some extraordinary lengths to find something, anything to say, crafting absolutely wonderful results. A lot of what Yukhei had to say ended up becoming in-jokes for all eight of you in the house, and at least a quarter of them were from situations like these.

Unfortunately, this one didn’t spark much interest.

Sicheng shook is head once, voice neither amused nor melancholic, answering, “No. But thank you.”

“Oh, ok!” Yukhei’s response was bright as usual. “More space for us!” He punctuated his words with another, tighter squeeze, which made you cry out in mildly strained laughter. 

“Yukhei!”

“Dear lord...” Ten sighed, rolling his body-weight to allow his voice to carry into the kitchen. “Kun! When are the kids getting back? Yukhei’s getting boisterous again!”

You poked Ten’s side, making him jump. He flicked his head away from your neck to look you in the eye, immediately flipping into a pout complete with puppy eyes. “Hey...! What was that for...!”

“Play nice Ten,” you asserted gently, reaching out to pull him back down. He’d left your torso open to the cold with his retreat and you missed him within seconds. Luckily he wasn’t in a snarky mood, or had accurately read the situation and had worked out it wouldn’t be a good idea to get mischievous and tease you, and so he came straight back down. Though his grip was a little firmer once he’d reestablished it, with one now warmer hand finding its place upon the bare skin below the hem of your shirt, shielding it from the chill of the room while simultaneously making your heart beat just that little bit quicker.

.

.

.

The kids, as Ten had dubbed them, arrived not long after, just as the delicious scent of Kun’s famous cooking began to fill the whole room to the brim. They stepped into a delightfully warm house, their faces reddened from the cold outside, and immediately were stripping themselves free of their coats, as the temperature difference made them feel too warm to cope.

Ten and Yukhei had finished their tussle over you, leaving you to rest in peace between the two of them. Sicheng had taken out his phone a while ago, ocassionally showing you funny memes and pictures he found. You didn’t really understand some of them, and he had to explain them, but you enjoyed it nonetheless, even if that same shadow tinted his eyes again as he did it. 

Xiaojun regarded the sight of the three of you piled on the sofa with curiosity, to say the least, brows furrowing as he let the two behind him pass. Yangyang barely scraped a glance at you, until he came back and saw it properly, smirking. “What is this?” 

“Y/N was feeling sad, so we had to come and cheer her up!” Yukhei explained, knocking his head into yours like a puppy.

“By... piling on the sofa?” 

“What’s wrong Yangyang?” Ten snickered, before cooing, “Do you feel left out that I’m not babying you too?”

Yangyang narrowed his eyes defiantly at the elder, who merely stuck his tongue out.

“Yangyang, you can join us if you want,” you interrupted cleanly, the wobble in your voice long gone. 

“Can I?!” Hendery called from behind the two stood in the walkway, slipping through to poke his head around Xiaojun where you could see him. His lips were curved into a tiny little smile, eyes wide and clear and glimmering in hope for a ‘yes’.

“Of course!” you replied, hand leaving Ten’s back and beckoning both Yangyang and Hendery over. 

“I don’t think there’s any room,” Xiaojun remarked, exhaling amusedly, “you might have to take it in turns.”

At this, you felt both pairs of hands’ grips tighten, as if in reflex. 

“But!” Yukhei stuttered in defence. “But I’m—”

Ten whined, “No, I’m comfy. You’ll have to drag me off yourself.”

Sicheng looked up from his phone. “Not sure that’s a wise idea, Ten, you’re the lightest one here.”

As Yangyang and Hendery glanced at one another, grins affirming before snapping back to begin stepping over to the smaller link in the chain, Kun declared from the kitchen.  “Dinner’s ready! Come get it! And someone can come and get Y/N’s for her—no complaining about that either, she’s had a tough day.”

But no one complained. In fact, it became more of a rush to get in the kitchen first, to collect their food because they were starving or because they wanted to be the one to grab your serving, you couldn’t tell.

Yukhei was swayed by food, which you had anticipated, and with a final, almost crushing squeeze, he slipped out from behind you, leaving you to adjust yourself to not fall over while supporting Ten upon your front.

This was because Ten was not affected as severely by the thought of dinner, and instead remained upon you, pressing himself against you as best he could.

“Can’t we stay here and eat dinner?” he mumbled into your shirt.

“I don’t think Kun would ever allow that.” You giggled. “Not after last time.”

Ten sighed, before shouting back, “Kun! Can Y/N eat her food on the sofa?!”

“No!” The man’s response was immediate. “Not after last time!”

“See,” you snorted, “told you.”

Ten rolled his eyes, sitting up reluctantly, then stretching his arms and back. “Fine. Come on, let’s go get dinner.”

.

.

.

Dinner was a ruckus, as usual. You cram eight people around a table and it will always be noisy, due to the sheer number of people. But then you make half of those people crackheads and the others happy to allow them to be crackheads Then you’ve got a table of chaos.

With the conversation flitting every few seconds, words bouncing from one side of the room to the other to a rhythm of laughter, many would probably have arranged to sit in their rooms to dine, but you would never dream of doing such a thing. 

Hearing the banter, weekly in-jokes and teasing was necessary, as it always lifted your spirits. As long as you weren’t upset at the time they picked on you. 

Luckily the previous cuddling had worked, and you were back to feeling ok, your problems not seeming so impossible anymore. 

However, ‘ok’ was not good enough for the others, and you knew they wouldn’t leave you at just that. Besides, you had a promise to keep to the two youngest.

As soon as you spotted the natural lull in conversation, you jumped in, “Do you guys want to watch a film tonight?”

Your suggestion was met with a flourish of agreement, only that two faces also fell. One tried to hide it somewhat valiantly, no doubt to protect you from feeling bad. The other didn’t possess the finesse for this as such, and more-or-less openly sulked at the dining table. You looked to the two of them. “Ten? Yukhei?”

“SuperM,” Ten remarked, voice monotonous, “meeting on tour dates.”

You let out a small ‘ah’ in understanding. You attempted to look on the brighter side. “There’s always next week...!”

Yukhei nodded sadly, while Ten huffed earning him a side-eye from Kun. 

“In my defence,” he began, “they’ve worked out all the dates that don’t clash for us. It’s 127 they’re having trouble with, and the managers there can’t seem to do basic maths, because they’ve confirmed two lots of dates that don’t actually work. It must be driving Taeyong mad over in Korea.”

“Why do you need to be there, then?” Yangyang asked.

“We don’t,” Yukhei emphasised.

Ten sighed. “No I think we do. Even if we’ve outlined our schedules a hundred times, we still need to be in the room while they set the dates, for legal reasons. It’s just that guy is driving me up the wall. He never lets us talk on these meetings, and I’m sick of subtly dropping hints to his boss about it.” He stood, offering to take the others’ empty bowls and plates. “Guess tonight won’t be very peaceful, but it’ll be worse if we don’t leave soon.” As he leant over the table to collect your bowl, he whispered, “I’ll be here pretty much all tomorrow though. You?”

You nodded, trying to still the beating of your heart picked up in tempo following the wink he sent you in response.

Yukhei collected the remaining utensils in one hand, giving everyone individually a big wave with the other.

“What are you going to do?” Xiaojun enquired. “About the ‘guy’, I mean?”

Ten shrugged. “Guess if he tries anything this time, he’ll face the pure wrath of this bad bitch.”

“Ten!” you cried in faux shock, a gasp quilting the air. “What have we said about swearing in front of the child!”

Laughter erupted as everyone synchronously looked at Yangyang, who was sending you an exaggerated scowling pout. “For the last time, I am not a child!”

“Oh yes that’s right, you’re not a child, Yangyang,” Kun interjected plainly, leading the table to hush as each person accepted his words as an instruction to quieten. Except everyone was wrong.  Kun glanced at you with a suprisingly sly smile, and then at Ten, before looking Yangyang dead in the eye, and said, “You’re baby.”

There was a chorus of boisterous, teasing ‘OHHH!’s as Yangyang accepted his fate as ‘burned’.

.

.

.

You bid the two of them farewell, hearing them slip out of the backdoor, but you barely caught Kun as he seemed to follow them. You very nearly leapt into the kitchen, hearing a car door slam, eyes searching for the leader. 

"Kun?”

The man jumped just outside, halting his motion to shut the door as you poked your head into sight. “Oh, Y/N. Is everything ok?”

You nodded, humming, though pulling your shirt further up to your chin to try and retain some heat in combat with the cold outside air. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, giving them a lift, so they don’t have to walk, since it’s cold out,” he sheepishly apologised, “I should have mentioned it, sorry. You can start the film without me, I don’t mind.”

“Oh, ok,” you mumbled. You had been about to say you’d make sure everyone waited for him, as you were aware the drive wouldn’t be long, but his words had stopped you in your tracks. 

“I’ll see you in a bit, Y/N. I promise I won’t be long.”

You tried to lift your arms in time to request that hug he owed you, but the door had closed before he likely even saw you in the darkness of the kitchen.

There was a slosh of water that made your ears prick up, leading you to turn towards the sink. You’d barely noticed Xiaojun there, doing the washing up (as he’d been elected to by Kun as he left the table). Though it was no surprise, since he’d been practically silent the whole time. And he was doing it in the dark.

“You alright, Y/N?” he enquired, adding more hot water to the bowl.

“I could ask the same about you?” you glanced around the room, looking for the lightswitch. “Has the bulb gone again?”

“No, the light’s fine.”

“Oh, well...” You made your way over to the switch.

“Don’t turn it on,” he announced, tipping his head over his shoulder. The lights from the next room crystalised in his eyes, azure-gold and tracing a diamond upon his cheek. It illuminated the curve of his lips, as he spoke again, quieter this time, “Come here.”

You did what he asked, brushing his shoulder with yours as you came to his side. You tried to meet his gaze, looking up to his face and drawing across his features. You got distracted by the shine of his silver hair, tracing down his skin and curling round the shell of his ear so neatly. Plush lips parted as he spoke and you raised your eyes to meet his, only to have him turn away at the last second. You were left with no choice but to follow where he was looking. 

“Look, out there,” he whispered, gently placing a plate at the bottom of the bowl.

You peered into the garden, dimly lit by the light from the living room dancing beyond you, next door’s garden light and nothing more—the sky starless and as dark and thick as ink. You couldn’t see anything, and it disheartened you to have to explain it to Xiaojun, who was clearly much more excited than you were.

“Jun? I can’t see anything,” you murmured, but he hushed you suddenly, leaving you to slam your lips shut, heart pinched.

After a few seconds he spoke again, voice barely above a whisper, “We have to be really quiet. And no sudden movements. She’ll appear very soon, I know she will.”

You frowned, glancing through the dark window, confronted by the hazy grass of the garden, and then your own musty reflection as your eyes switched focus. You couldn’t see much of Xiaojun in the glass, the shadow engulfing much of his mirrored-self. However, you could see one half of his face, shaded as if through clouds, his crown crudely lit like a halo from the light behind. 

A sigh very nearly left your lips as you stole another glance at his real face, his brow furrowing while his eyes narrowed into the darkness outside, teeth ever-so-slightly teasing his bottom lip as he peacefully waited. It wasn’t fair how ethereal he was sometimes.

Suddenly he perked up, eyes widening, and leaning into you as he carefully pointed with a soap-sud painted finger into the black. “Look! There!”

You leant forward on the edge of the counter, eyes desperately scouring the garden until you spotted what he was waiting for.

A small bundle, tapered with jagged edges upon its top, snuffling through the shadowy green.

A tiny hedgehog, on the search for food.

As she came closer, you could just about make out the twitching of a nose, while she made a somewhat beeline for the fence on the left hand side of the garden. There you could see a weathered blue pet-bowl, filled with some food of sorts.

“There she is,” Xiaojun sighed, whispering a laugh sheepishly. “I was beginning to worry there for a bit, I’ll be honest.”

A wide smile rose to your face, overtaken by the purity of an animal that small shuffling through the cold to find food which had been placed in the back garden just for her.

“Did you...?”

“Yeah, the dog food was me,” he replied. “She only comes when it’s quiet here, which isn’t often but it does happen after dinner. As the others get quiet, retreating upstairs or sitting on their phones for a bit. That’s why I offer to do the work here, so I can check up on her.”

You couldn’t glance away from the hedgehog, especially when she finally reached the bowl and began to tuck in. Though it was in the shade and it was very hard to see anything besides the bowl by that point, made to stand out against the night by the brightness of its sides.

“She’ll eat it all no doubt, she didn’t come yesterday. Unless she has somewhere else and is just running rings around me,” he chuckled, picking up the plate. 

“Why didn’t she come yesterday?” you asked, wrenching your eyes away to look at Xiaojun again.

The corners of his eyes rose as he wrinkled his nose briefly. “Yukhei’s euphoria last night?” 

You stood confused for a second, trying to retrace your memory, until you finally struck gold. “Oh yea! We got a message from Jungwoo! I think it was everyone’s euphoria to be honest,” you sighed, “I’d been worried sick about him. No matter how many times anyone assured me he was ok, I knew I wouldn’t settle until I heard it from him himself.”

“It’s alright, I understand that. And I’m pretty sure the others do too.” As your eyes fell, remembering the anxiety you had about his condition, Xiaojun’s finally settled back on you.  “You’re extremely kind Y/N, you almost care too much,” he said, “I know Jungwoo can’t wait to see you again, too.”

You finally met his gaze, letting a small smile rise to your lips as you did so. He was just so beautiful, you couldn’t actually look away even if by some bizarre curse you wanted to.

“Thank you, Junnie.”

“I mean it though, Y/N,” he insisted softly, “I worry sometimes you care too much about others, and though we appreciate it very much, I don’t...” His voice faltered, as if he’d spoken too much. “We don’t want you to hurt yourself in the process, and forget to care for yourself. We all love looking after you, but we also don’t want you to be hurt at all, if we can help it. So if something hurts you, let us know immediately, so we can support you... yeah?”

You nodded, swallowing as you felt your throat clench. Blinking quickly, you looked back into the garden, you spotted the hedgehog making her way back to the hedgerow.

At that moment, a voice rose from the living room. “Y/N! What film do you want to watch?”

Somewhat grateful for the distraction, you felt the urge to cry dissipate as you took another glance at Xiaojun. He hadn’t looked away from you this time, it seemed, but you didn’t focus upon that for your own sanity. “I’d better go,” you said, “thank you for showing me the hedgehog. She’s really cute, I’m glad you feed her.”

“No problem, I’ll let you do it tomorrow, if you have time and would like to?”

“That sounds great!” You sent him a grin, covering any sadness you had felt a few moments before. You lay your hand on his shoulder for a second before you passed, as a small farewell, making our way to the living room to go help Yangyang. 

As you reached the archway, you turned round to ask one more thing. “Oh, Xiaojun?”

“Yes?” He finished washing a plate and placed it on the draining board, peering over his shoulder at you once again. 

“Does she have a name? The hedgehog?”

In the shadows of the kitchen, you thought you saw him falter, in the silence, heard a stutter in his answer. “Actually, no, I didn’t think to do that. Maybe you could come up with one?”

You reasoned with the suggestion before nodding. “I’ll see what I can come up with. See you in a bit!” 

After you left the room, however, he let out a sigh of relief. He was glad you’d fallen for that excuse, especially since it was far from the truth. The first thing he did, once he realised the hedgehog was a regular, was give her name. And since she was adorable, with her little nose and love for food, he decided to name her after the first adorable thing he thought of.

He hadn’t foreseen the issue that would occur if he showed her to the person of which he’d secretly named the hedgehog after. 

.

.

As you spun round the door-frame, hands clapped against your cheeks, desperately willing them to cool down and lose their pinkish hue, Hendery spun round the corner and collided into you.

His sudden appearance made you jump, causing you to haphazardly step backwards and very nearly trip over a blanket draped half on the sofa and half on the floor.

Luckily Hendery’s reactions were faster than your falling, and with hands clasped at your shoulders he pulled you back into your centre of gravity.  Holding you still there, watching you wobble until coming to rest, he exhaled in relief. 

His face had been a picture, lips pursed into an ‘o’ of moderate horror as he’d almost knocked you to the ground, and then spread into a wide smile as he giggled sheepishly. His eyes were clear as glass, dark and glinting and rueful.

“Sorry Y/N!” he said, mischief lacing his words.

You scoffed, shaken and avoiding his clear stare. “Yeah, you will be!”

He laughed at your response, taking to your side. “We need to choose a film, what one do you want to watch?”

“I don’t...” you shrugged, “really know.” You were glad that you didn’t need to look at him now that he was at your side. You could feel his stare on you however, and it made you want to shiver.

He nodded, interlinking his arm with yours. “Shall we go have a look, my lady?”

Before you could let any words slip through your lips in bemused amusement, he pulled himself closer to you and then led you through to the corridor with the shelves stacked with movies.

Yangyang was already there, squinting up at the top row as you reached the rack, fingers running across each box like a small child reading their first book.

Hendery extended his free arm towards the shelving, bowing his head, “Your moving pictures, my lady.”

You snorted, taking in the sight of amass of films. They’d been ordered alphabetically by title, and you remember the day starkly that you’d sat down with Yukhei to organise them. 

He wouldn’t have been your first choice to help order things, since his attention span normally lasted around that of a cocker spaniel with a new toy, but he’d been the only one in the house at the time, and he was the only one tall enough to reach the very top shelf regardless (you still didn’t understand why that top shelf had been installed and even being used, because if Yukhei wasn’t around—which did occur often due to his new schedules—then it was a real safety hazard to get a film down from there, seeing that no one else in the group managed to grow anywhere near 6″). 

On this occasion though, he’d been uncharacteristically focused, listening to your instructions, and only making jokes about how short everyone else was a couple of times!  He’d been a very big help, and it also proved useful in the sense that you weren’t the only one with a better idea of where all the movies were. Even if they were organised well, the two of you could still find them faster than the others usually could, simply due to the fact you could remember where you’d placed them on the shelves in the first place. 

Kun had been extremely happy with the end result too, and Ten still didn’t believe you’d managed to get Yukhei to sit down and do it with you.

You did admonish the system you’d used now though. Perhaps taking the extra time to organise them into genres would have been better. After all, you rarely knew a specific movie you wanted to watch.

Scouring over the titles, you eventually straightened to join Yangyang in peering up at the very top row—the row of box-sets.

“What’re you looking at?” you asked Yangyang quizzically. 

“Did we watch the final part of The Lord of the Rings?” he answered.

You and Hendery both nodded. 

“Oh, well there goes that suggestion then,” he shifted down from tiptoe and came to lean against the table beside the shelving, sending you a sweet smile. “Y/N, what type of movie would you like?”

Eased, you smiled at him, glancing down at the films at the lower rungs. “I’m not sure, really. Nothing too heavy, and nothing that will make me cry.”

He hummed. “So, a comedy then?”

Hendery’s eyes went wide, a look of genuine fear playing on his features. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Our senses of humour in this house, when it comes to films can...” he paused, silk voice tentative, “...vary, a lot.”

You nodded in agreement. “Remember what happened over that Robin Hood film?” You shook your head very firmly. “Bad times, my dudes.” 

Yangyang cocked is head to one side in thought, frowning at seemingly nothing. “Fair enough...” Suddenly, h perked up, showing a grin you knew well. “I’ve had an idea. What if we watch a really bad movie, one that’s so bad, it’s actually kind of good?”

You clicked your fingers, before shooting him finger-guns, “Now that is a good idea!”

The three of you turned towards the mountain of films. Hendery lent upon your shoulder, and once again you were convinced he wasn’t perhaps focused on the films.

“Ok... bad... films...” Yangyang murmured, pulling out a blue box to read its description on the back. 

Meanwhile, you glanced over at Hendery, who was a lot closer than you had previously thought.  You sent him a smile, pressing him back with a single finger before enquiring, “Do you have any ideas, Hendery?”

He smushed his lips together, as he usually did when he was thinking, something of which that always made your heart simper, and let his eyes wonder away from you and up to the penultimate top shelf. 

“’Azure Shadow’?” he said, reaching up and grabbing the box. “I heard it was pretty bad—hey The CP Times gave it 4 stars!”

“My god,” you snickered, leaning over so your head almost brushed his, and peered at the back of the box, “what were they on?”

“No idea but maybe it’s not bad enough,” Yangyang remarked, earning a nod from the two of you, and leading Hendery to put it back on the shelf.

“What about ‘The Man of Blade’,” Yangyang measured, scoffing as he retrieved it, “this one doesn’t even show its ratings, it must be awful!”

You skipped over to him, placing your hand on his shoulder and leaning your head against it to see the description. 

“’A man makes a wish to a genie’,” you began, the corners of your mouth twitching already as you attempted to keep your tone serious, “‘to become the most powerful man to ever live so he could face God in a one-to-one’—”

“I’m sorry what?” Hendery merely laughed.

You tried to hold it together. “—a-and restore not only his pride but his... his...”

“Oh no, what?” 

Laughter bubbled in your throat as you forced the final sentence from your lips. “His valiant steed’s honour—yo, what the actual—?!”

Yangyang cackled as he began hastily opening the box. “It’s decided! We’re watching ‘The Man of Blade’! And we can all suffer together!”

Hendery wiped his eyes to free them from tears of laughter. “I’m sorry, but why on earth is that even here?! Who bought it?”

“It must be a present?” you insisted. “Surely! No one in this house would buy this in their right mind—”

“I bought it.”

Three heads simultaneously turned in the direction of the living room. There, standing in the archway, was Sicheng.

There was a moment of silence as you all stared at him, mouths agape and words faltering, until you exclaimed, “Chengie, no!”

“Look,” he projected, before the other two could add to the confusion, “it was supposed to be dumb gift for Ten, something that I could hide his actual present behind, and so I decided to hide it plain sight until his birthday.”

“Ohhh.”

“But, does that mean we can’t use it then?” Hendery questioned. 

“Oh, yeah, damn,” Yangyang said, closing the box, “it’s ok Sicheng, we’ll put it back.”

“Actually,” you began, eyes flickering from each man, and finally resting on the box, “Ten isn’t here, so as long as no one tells…”

“We can still watch it!” Hendery finished, clapping his hands and motioning for the box. “Let’s start it up, I want to see the menu page!”

As the two fought over who got to put the disc in the player, you turned your attention to Sicheng.

His eyes, dark caramel and hidden from the light, were down-turned and avoiding your gaze. They seemed to graze across your cheeks instead, flickering up to your own only occasionally. You offered him a smile, small and soft, and then walked over to him. “Hey, thanks for the film! It sounds perfect for tonight.”

“It’s no problem, I’m curious to watch it too,” he grinned back, before easing you out of the way of the two bundles of energy that bounded through into the living room, “I really hope it’s as bad as it sounds.”

“Oh it’s got to be!” you cried, feeling warmth settle back into your system, slowly, but surely, as you laughed. “Come on, Chengie, help me get some snacks?”

“Of course.” He stepped backwards, letting you past to lead the way. 

Back in the kitchen, you began to scavenge for all the food you could find, layering Sicheng’s arms with bags upon bags of snacks. You weren’t exactly paying attention to the number you’d piled, however, until you swung all the cupboards closed and aimed to place a final packet on top, only to find that you’d formed a tiny mountain, and Sicheng’s face was practically completely hidden.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry Chengie, I didn’t notice how much…”

“It’s alright,” he answered brightly, peeking carefully round the precarious pile, “I got it!”

He stepped forward careful to request the final snack be crowned upon the summit above his eyeline, and with caution, you obliged, balancing it on top as best you could.

“Alright! Now all we have to do is get you into the living room without dropping them—are you sure you don’t want me to take half? It’s not hard at all for me to do so…!”

He turned so he could see you. “It’s ok, you’re already doing too much by organising this. I can carry a pile of snacks don’t worry! Just, warn me if I get too close to a chair.”

You nodded, peering over his shoulder to see his way. “I can do that. You ready?”

He hummed in affirmation, and the two of you began your slow, careful trundle into the living room.

.

.

.

With snacks arranged on the coffee table, you slumped on the sofa, taking care to mind your feet as you went—you didn’t want to knock all your hard work on the carpet, as then you would have to vacuum it all up and unless you had someone to make the pain more bearable, it wasn’t fun in the slightest. 

You watched as Hendery emerged victorious and scampered over to the TV, fiddling with the dvd player. Yangyang, pouting from the sidelines, perked up once he realised that he now had a crucial advantage. 

He bounded over to you, barely choosing a side and instead practically flung himself onto the sofa too. He threw his arms open to encase you as he went, and once his back hit the cushions, he pulled you into him. 

You shrieked in surprise and glee, shuffling yourself round so you could rest your head more comfortably on his chest. 

“There,” he murmured proudly, “comfy?”

“Very.” Your voice was muffled against his hoodie. 

Hendery glanced back over his shoulder at the sight, and hurried himself. Sicheng meanwhile took a seat where he had been previously, spinning the chair around so he would be able to see the screen.

“Hey,” you called softly to him, causing him to swivel a bit further round to see you, “you sure you don’t want to come sit over here? It’s comfier than that desk chair.”

“But it is a spinny ch—” You hushed Yangyang before he could finish. 

Sicheng smiled, the dim in his eyes growing as he shook his head. “No, it’s ok, I’m good here.”

“You sure?”

Your response was a nod, and the very gradual spin as he pushed himself back to face the TV subtly.

You tried not to take it personally, but you couldn’t hide the falter in your smile.

Yangyang couldn’t quite see it at his angle, but Hendery did, pouting at you as he came over.

“Y/N?”

“I’m ok, don’t worry!” you declared. “Just tired, is all.”  Your response had been too fast, and you knew both Yangyang and Hendery had noticed—Hendery had quickly settled down beside you, inclining into your sloped body as he held your hand tightly, whilst Yangyang had shifted his weight to bring you just a little bit closer.

You did wonder if it was slightly out of something else, but you didn’t have long to consider that thought, with the film menu loading up and sending you all into a bout of horrified laughter.

“What even is that?!” Yangyang yelled above you.

“That is an actual, colourised depiction of hell,” you countered, lips twisted in terror as you sat up instinctively. It was as if the atrocity had immediately set off fight-or-flight responses of every single person in the room. 

Hendery snapped his head over to you. “In the shape of a horse?!” 

“It’s never going to leave my head,” Sicheng murmured. “There it is. Emblazoned into the insides of my skull. Set me free from this torment—”

“What’s going on?” Xiaojun had come through from the kitchen, drying his hands on a tea towel and striding through into the living room as if he’d been summoned. 

“That!” Everyone simultaneously pointed at the TV, the single shot menu screen of an abominable CGI horse crowding the entire screen.

“What’s wr—mother of sweet jesus—” 

“I know right!” Yangyang exclaimed. “It’s horrifying, I hate it!”

“It’s actually cursed,” Xiaojun stated, unable to draw his eyes away from the savagery of art he’d been presented with. “Obscene!”

Winwin’s voice was still low, but you could just about hear it over the whoops and cries of the others; “My sleep paralysis demon.”

“Is this what we’re watching?” Xiaojun asked, deep eyes wide and begging for the answer to be any cognate of ‘no’.

“Yep.” You grinned.

“This crime to humanity?”

“One hundred percent.”

Xiaojun stared at the screen, eyes alight with the tacky flames of the anathema displayed before him. Eventually he snapped out of his cursed gaze and headed back into the kitchen. “Dear lord—don’t start without me!”

Eventually, as the laughter died down, you settled back into Yangyang’s embrace, ushering Hendery to come closer too so you could have him near too. He looked over to you, feeling the tug on his hand, and with only a momentary pause to check if you were sure, he flopped down onto your stomach, exhaling happily with an arm stretched.

“You feel happier now, right Y/N?” Yangyang suddenly asked, voice low, and just below a whisper.

You were surprised, but nodded. “Yeah, I’m feeling much better than I did before. Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” He cleared his throat, shifting his balance to support the extra wait Hendery brought to the table. “You’re certain we don’t need to enact special measures?”

You frowned, tilting your head up to come to look at his jaw, as he quickly looked back up to somewhere else in the room that seemingly wasn’t the TV for very rational reasons. You bemusedly asked about his supposed ‘special measures’, but won little response. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, before he glanced down at you, eyes flickering across each paradigm of your face with his lips pressed plush as he thought.  He parted them eventually, ebbing with air and possible words, until you felt the rise of his chest as he inhaled and readied himself to speak.

Only then did Xiaojun enter the room and take the final spot at the end of the sofa, patting Hendery’s legs to get them to move. 

“Ok, I’m back, we can start now!” he announced.

The ball of conversation was knocked from its ledge and rolled in a different direction to that you’d hoped. 

“Who has the remotes?” Hendery piped up, feet replaced, but this time on top of Xiaojun’s legs. The elder of the two picked them off by flicking his soles. 

“I do,” Sicheng replied, already frowning at the buttons. “Can someone get the lights?”

“Sure.” Yangyang stretched up behind him, hand awkwardly sliding up the wall as he sought for the switch. Eventually his fingers struck gold, and the room snapped dark.

And then the menu finally disappeared as the horror of a film began. 

.

.

The movie was utter trash.  But it lived up to expectations and it was absolutely hilarious. You’d spent the first hour shrieking with laughter, and then proceeded to tear each scene and every piece of dialogue apart as a five-piece. The entire film was cursed.

Hendery was slapping criticism on the plot left, right and centre to the pooint it made you wonder why he was here at all and not a movie critic. Meanwhile, Xiaojun just snorted at everything he said. The two had come to an unspoken truce, after squabbling over where Hendery could put his feet. They were now situated on Xiaojun’s thighs, and swinging every now and again. 

You felt your heart burn at how adorable it was, though also suffered the pain of the jerks that Hendery made everyday he had the sole of his feet poked or tickled, which Xiaojun seemed to enjoy doing too much.

You stroked Hendery’s hair gently, lightly pressing his fringe out of his eyes where his head rested on your stomach, whilst you peered around to Sicheng to check if he was alright, having not heard a peep from him in half an hour or so.

What you found was that he seemed to be too engrossed in the movie. A grin was plastered on his face as the lights of the terrible CGI glowed in his irises and made him look like an evil mastermind in a fantasy movie of the same calibre. You hushed a chuckle behind your hand, as you leant back to turn your attention to Yangyang. 

He’d been the forerunner of the jokes, cackling at every small thing and turning it into pure comedy gold for the rest of the people in the room, which you were very grateful for. The movie would have been brain-drivel without him.

He’d re-positioned himself slightly so you were higher up on his body, head much closer to be of an equal height to his. This way you could press your temple against his cheek, if you wanted.  However, it was him that had his head nuzzled against you, his cheek resting in your hair. 

He eventually quietened down as he grew more drowsy, instead taking in the scent of your hair, which only lulled him into more peace.  With you in his arms he felt complete, in a way. As if he had a duty of sorts and when you were there he was completing it. But he wasn’t sure what this meant to him, and he didn’t want to think about it too much. A part of him deep down knew that it would cause some pain, somewhere along the line. And so he didn’t spare the thoughts a chance. 

However, he couldn’t still the beating of his heart whenever you moved against him, whenever you looked to him and smiled.

As the credits rolled, there were several sighs of relief, but otherwise it was complete utter silence as the room tried to comprehend what you’d just witnessed.

You glanced over at everyone to see if they were just as confused as you were. Seeing you were in firm company in your bemusement, you announced, “The Oscars are clearly rigged for this not to win.”

Yangyang snorted. “Of course!”

“Best film ever! Y/N couldn’t make a better one even if she tried.”

Xiaojun flicked Hendery’s toe for that one.

“Oh of course, honey.” You leant over slightly, arms gently squeezing the boy in your lap, giving him a squeeze. “And you couldn’t make a worse one.”

Hendery seemed to take it as more of a compliment as he grinned, nose scrunching as he headbutted you softly. You tickled his sides briefly, seeking joy in the squeal that it earnt you, and let Xiaojun take the fall as he got kicked in the arm. You sent him an apologetic pout, not that you deep down meant it wholeheartedly. 

“Ow!”

“Karma for all the headbutts I got in the stomach!” you asserted and Xiaojun shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s fair—” 

It was Sicheng that interrupted. “Oh.” His voice was disappointed, and where his melancholy suddenly procured from confused you. He’d been so sunny during the movie. 

You looked over to him. “Chengie?”

“The time,” he said, holding up his phone.

It was nearly midnight. 

“How long was the movie?” Yangyang exclaimed.

Sicheng answered, “Longer than you’d expect.”

“Well over two hours?” Xiaojun suggested. “But that time included the credits.”

“Haven’t you guys got to be up like, stupid-early tomorrow?” you asked, voice timid, fearing the ‘yes’ that you knew would follow.

A hiss of irritation ricocheted across the room. 

Xiaojun confirmed it for you. “Yeah, we do.”

“I don’t want to go...” Yangyang whined.

“I’m sorry but you gotta,” you encouraged sadly, “you need sleep.”

“And so do you,” Hendery added, kicking his legs off the sofa and stretching as he stood. 

It was your day off tomorrow, though you couldn’t deny you were pretty tired. “I guess so.”

“Yeah, come on, otherwise Kun will be mad at us,” Xiaojun chuckled, “not sending you to bed at a responsible time, you know.”

You snickered, slowly shifting yourself out of Yangyang’s arms.  His hands seemed resistant to the idea, catching on your shirt as you moved away.

Eventually though, he was freed from his constraints and ordered by you to head to his room. “Come on, Yangyang. You gotta go.”

He pouted at you, before reluctantly nodding his head. “Yeah, ok, I’m going.”

Hendery and Xiaojun followed, bidding you goodnight as they passed. You remained in the living room a bit after they went, opting to stretch out on the sofa instead of getting up.

“You need to head up too.” Sicheng’s voice was light and airy, like the shadows had engulfed it. You barely heard him. 

“I know,” you assured just as quietly, “I’m just... taking my time.”

You could just about trace the lines of his smile in the dim light after he turned the TV off. His presence was faint, but what you could feel was warm and gentle.

He whispered something that this time you didn’t catch.

“Sicheng?”

“Don’t worry.” He sighed, getting to his feet. You heard the crinkling of wrappers and the clatter of bowls as he began to tidy up. 

“Here, I’ll help,” you began.

But as you sat up, you felt an hand press firmly against your shoulder. “There’s no need, it’s ok.”

You frowned into the dark. He wasn’t looking at you, which was why his voice sounded distant. You could make out his silhouette, broad and proportioned as if he was drawn. He was like an artists unknown creation, stood in the background of their studio, overlooked by many but appreciated much more than any by the few that knew him.

You worked up the courage to enquire about the occurrences earlier. “Why wouldn’t you come over and sit with us? Like, during the movie or before.” Feeling intrusive, you hurriedly added: “I mean, I don’t mind of course, just... you know?”

That caused him to look at you, but he remained silent for the longest time.  You were about to change the subject when he finally replied. 

“I didn’t want to get in your way,” he cleared his throat, scooping up an unopened snack bag under an arm, “besides, you were already quite busy with the others, so... I didn’t want to overwhelm you with anything more.”

Your features softened at his words, a pang in your heart. “I appreciate that, Chengie. But please remember that you won’t overwhelm me or get in my way. I like hanging out with you just as much as the others.”

You could make out the smile on his face, small and sweet, before he ushered himself away towards the kitchen. “You need to head to bed, Y/N, you need some sleep.”

He was right, but you were convinced you weren’t going to leave until you got one thing.

You headed to the entrance into the kitchen and waited for Sicheng to come back. Upon his return, he almost bumped into you, but caught himself just in time. Your eyes met in the darkness, lit by the streetlamp from outside the window far behind you. His glimmered with the golden haze, as he wordlessly questioned why you were there.

“I know, I’m heading up I promise,” you answered for him. “But... can I have a hug first? Please?”

Lips pressed into a small ‘o’, he looked shocked by your request, before melting into another soft smile. “Of course.”

His hands brushed along the curves of your shoulders, as if to appear to find their way, and eventually travel down to wrap around you. The position wasn’t exactly the most conventional, as you found your arms bunched at his chest, but you made the most of it regardless. 

He held you delicately, but firmly against him. It was reassuring, despite the lack of time you spent there pressed into his warmth, as you felt your breath slow, and your eyes close.

You didn’t want to let go, but Sicheng was more sensible than you, and drew himself away gradually.

“Come on,” he murmured, placing a thumb against your temple and massaging the skin there lightly in encouragement. 

His palm barely touched your jaw, the contact was so brief it felt like the breath of a ghost, but it sent your heart-rate into a rapid drumbeat. You imagined he could hear it, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he merely continued, upping the tempo of his caress, and sending your thoughts into a spiral of sorts. You couldn’t work out what they were saying, but it was giddy to say the least. Eventually though, conscious reconnected to subconscious and allowed you to function again. You nodded, reluctantly leaving his touch that sparked your heart rate to spike, and began the long journey to your room, leaving Sicheng to finish up downstairs alone.

Something ebbed in your heart about it, but you didn’t know what it was, nor how to express it.

Eventually reaching your room, you left the door ajar as you clambered into bed, feeling a strange loss of peace.

.

.

You decided to watch Youtube for a while to calm yourself down a bit after... whatever had happened with Sicheng, and consequently ended up staying up long enough for the others to return.

That’s when it hit you, the reason why you’d been unable to settle. Or at least one of them.

Kun had promised to return quickly, but he had been gone all night. You wanted to ask about it, but it was late, and you were comfortable in your bed.  Luckily, after a few minutes, once Ten and Yukhei had retired to their rooms, your prayers were answered as Kun knocked on your door, face peaking through the gap.

You stared up at him, eyes big and expectant with your lips pursed. He had explaining to do after all. 

And he was aware of this fact, as the guilt was written over his face.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry,” he began, “can I come in?”

You pretended to think about it for a few moments, even though you both knew the answer. He waited though, and it was only when you gave him a ‘yes’ did he come inside.

He sidled over to your bed, eyes sweeping the shapes formed by your bed covers, to eventually perch on the side without accidentally sitting on your feet beneath the blankets.

“I’m sorry, I promised I would come back but the other two swore it wouldn’t be long, and it would be more rational to stay,” he explained, “but then it took longer than they thought, but I couldn’t risk coming home only to then head out again and... I don’t know why I listened to Yukhei about it to be honest, it’s not an overly rational thing to do.”

“Did Ten tell you to stay?”

He nodded.

“Well, I’ll let you off then,” you let the scowl fall from your face and giggled instead, “we know how persuasive he can be.”

Kun paused, eyes flitting to yours. “So you’re not mad?”

You scoffed. “Kun, I wasn’t even that mad to begin with, I promise! I can’t be mad at you for long anyhow. You’re just too—”

You’d let your mouth talk without your brain, and it suddenly occurred to you what you were saying. As your voice faltered, you weren’t sure what was supposed to follow.  Kind? Sweet? Cute? Handsome? 

Kun was waiting for you to finish, and unfortunately, you panicked a bit.

“Kun.”

He frowned bemusedly. “I’m too ‘Kun’?”

You nodded awkwardly, while you interrogated your own intelligence in your head. “...To be mad at for long, yes.” 

He cocked his head to one side. “Well, I mean, I prefer that to you being mad at me.” He exhaled, clearly relieved. “Did you enjoy the film?”

“Oh it was awful!” you exclaimed. As you saw his eyes widen again, you laughed. “We enjoyed it so much.”

He was clearly very confused, and his lips wavered as he didn’t know how to respond. 

You took some delight in his confusion, you couldn’t deny. “Well,” you propositioned coyly, “you’d understand if you’d been there.”

“I’m sorry!” he reiterated, eyes wide and searching yours.

“Ok, I’m sorry, I’ll stop now,” you laughed, though felt a little bit guilty and sighed, sending him a small sweet smile. Although it occurred to you that he still owed you. “But… there would be something that would make it all up to me—”

To your surprise, Kun interrupted you, already one step ahead, “I know. Here.” He shuffled along the bed so he was much closer to your body, arms held out for you.

You didn’t hesitate, much to his gratitude, and levered yourself up and straight into his embrace. His hands held your back firmly, gently pulling you even closer as he nestled his nose into your neck, mimicking your own positioning. Tender and tranquil, Kun seeped solace. While his fingers drew art upon your back, his head tipped into yours, his voice a deep murmur, “I’ve been waiting hours to do this.”

Your heart skipped a beat, you couldn’t even help it, though you shook it off. You’d been all over the place that day, emotionally, so of course you were going to be reacting all fuzzily over kindness. Well, that’s what you told yourself.  Besides, he was just stating facts.

“Me too,” you finally answered, barely able to work up the effort to speak anymore. The tiredness swept over you suddenly, but you didn’t fight it. Your body was crying for sleep, and your mind had finally agreed that it was time to give into that small, tired voice.

You pulled yourself away gradually, hands coming to rest on his shoulders as you peered up at him. He held you at arms length, studying your face as you did his.  You’d never noticed how rouge his lips were naturally tinted, how they curved into a smile as they opened to speak. Or how soft his cheeks were, as a long, slender dimple appeared as he did.

“You really need to sleep,” he said, “your eyes are constantly closing.”

You acknowledged his remarks with a lethargic nod, before shifting your weight once again to allow yourself to lie down under your covers.

Kun stood to allow you more space, letting you curl up to conserve warmth.

“You got everything you need?” Voice as light as silk, he leant over to catch your eyes behind the bundled blanket. 

“Yeah.”

He nodded, straightening up and heading for the lamp on your bedside table. As his fingers flipped the switch, his brain stuttered. He’d wanted to do something for a very long time, and this was the perfect opportunity to do it. You’d already been desperate for a hug from him and him specifically. But it was if something was stopping him. 

The lights went out, and he felt his feet moving by themselves towards leaving the room. 

“Goodnight, Kun,” you called after him, watching his retreating silhouette in the light from the landing.

As he reached the door he held it open, head peering into the darkness to catch a final glimpse of your face in the dim light for the day. You already had your eyes closed, hair around you like a halo, temple exposed and waiting. You looked so adorable wrapped up and surrounded in warmth.

“Goodnight, love.”

And with that he left the room, leaving the door ajar, rubbing his own lips to make up for the contact he missed as his cowardice took over once again. 

There would be another time. He prayed that there would be, and that it was him alone who got the opportunity.

But he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. 

~~~

AN: longest thing ive written and published wtf. It’s also unedited as of yet and with a piece this big it’s bound to have mistakes so I am very sorry for them and will get round to editing eventually i still need to update my masterlist oop

Also, all film names were randomly generated on a title generator. If they are actually the names of films then they weren’t intended to be.

Masterlist

[kittykat222]

Save Me Part 2

You should know that there is mention of sexual assault so if that triggers you then please please please don’t read it. Just message me and I’ll give you a fluffy tododeku story instead!

The familiar warmth of Todoroki's tongue caused Midoriya to shudder, that wonderful feeling of blood being licked off his body was enough to wake him up. The sounds cutting through the fog that had settled in his mind. For a brief moment Midoriya could almost feel Todoroki's cool embrace. It was a living hell to be so lost in yourself, only feeling brief sensations of pain and pleasure. Every word his boyfriend spoke sounded muffled, every caress was just barely felt, every movement dizzying. Oh how desperately Izuku wanted to scream, to cry into his beloved's shoulder, to hold and be held. But nothing worked. It was as if his brain and his body weren't connected. So he was forced to watch as Todoroki cried and begged him to react, knowing full well nothing would work.

Izuku closed his eyes and focused, his mind might be muddled but a fragmented memories always found their way back. He could remember the first time Todoroki bit him, it was such a painful moment in his life and yet it saved him from falling apart. A villain had tried to rape him when Todoroki intervened and set the man on fire without mercy.

"Are you alright?" Without a second thought Todoroki had removed his jacked and wrapped it around Deku, covering up his half naked body.

"I-I'm fine s-so it's okay. He didn't-" Deku couldn't help but throw up at the realization of what had happened to him. The shock and horror of his situation becoming painfully apparent as he took notice of his torn up costume. Deku immediately held his arms to his chest trying to cover himself even though Todoroki's jacket was already around him.

"You're not fine. You need to see a doctor."

"He-he t-told me I was...his! That I belong to him-"

Todoroki immediately leans in and bites the base of Deku's neck, drawing blood almost immediately. Deku is to stunned to do anything so when Todoroki stops he can't seem to say anything.

"I've bitten you, your blood is inside of me now." He cups Deku's face before kissing him gently, "This means you're mine. You only belong to me. No one can claim you."

"Todoroki...."

"Come on, let's take you to the hospital."

That's right, maybe...if he could just...

——

Todoroki stilled when he felt Midoriya reach out to him. The dazed boy clumsily put his hand on the older one’s chest and Todoroki immediately holds his boyfriends hand, keeping it close.

“Midoriya?”

Was he responding to the bite? Did Todoroki somehow get through to him? Midoriya starts to shake as tears gradually form in his eyes.

“C...cla...im.”

“Claim?”

The younger boy finally looks up to his lover with tears cascading down his face as he struggled to form words. It took all his strength to speak again.

“Cl...aim....me.”

Realization hits and Todoroki urgently pulls Midoriya close, biting into his neck until a thick layer of blood begins seeping out. Not enough. Todoroki thinks and so he bites into the boys shoulder eventually grabbing his arm and leaving a trail of bite marks only to stop when Midoriya places a hand on top of his head.

“Th...ank...y..o..u.”

“No no no don’t shut down on me. I claimed you again so you have to obey right? Midoriya?”

But it was no use, Izuku had returned to his trance like state and merely stared into oblivion. Todoroki grits his teeth, this was so frustrating! What the hell did All For One do!?

“I’m taking you to recovery girl again. I’ll tell her what happened. You wouldn’t like that though would you. You never like showing my bite marks to others.”

Still no response but that wasn’t going to stop him.

“I know you can hear me, your just scared aren’t you? They did something right? To put you in this state? I’m taking you back to UA, you’ll attend classes with me again.” Todoroki cups his face and looks intensely into Midoriya’s eyes. “I will save you. Don’t underestimate me.”

——-

So here it is! Wow that took a while I had so many avenues I could take that I needed to really think before deciding which one was best. I hope you all like it! Please leave a comment and tell me what you think! If there’s anything you want to see happen then just message me and I’ll see if I can incorporate it into the story! Have a blessed day!!!!

[malevolent-spirit]

ok this has been in my drafts for well over a year and im sick of seeing it so im just gonna post it. first lore post yeehaw

Deep in the Viridian Labyrinth, a clan tells its hatchlings stories of old gods, older than the first dragons. Direct descendants of The Eleven, with powers unparalleled by modern dragonkind.

This story is about a young god of wealth, known for his charm. With his quick wit and charismatic personality, he talked his way into getting what he wanted as often as he did to get out of trouble. He would woo god and goddess alike, having many lovers at any given moment. Not a single one truly captured his heart, though, and he was left with an emptiness that he couldn't fill. He thought that perhaps what he sought was a companion with whom he could share everything with. Yet, despite his best efforts, he never met anyone who rose to his standards. He decided to visit an old witch to ask for help. He tried to coax a solution to his loneliness out of her for free, giving many compliments and promises he didn't intend to keep. She, like so many others, fell to his charms and agreed, but warned that the price was great. The god waved her warning off, and she began her work on the spell needed. The witch needed rare ingredients, sending him off to find them all while she made the necessary preparations. After many long moons of hunting the items down, he returned, eager to find purpose in his life. The witch took the ingredients from the god and dropped them in a cauldron, murmuring ancient words from a worn tome. The room darkened, the air grew stagnant and thick. Shadows danced in the edges of his vision. The space in the cottage warped as colors not seen on that plane in a millennia glittered in and out of existence. Once she finished her chant, she paused to stir the pot. She dipped a claw in the brew, then traced symbols on his face, arms, and wings. The witch’s irises darkened as she said the final word, activating the spell. The runes glowed white, burning into his skin. He screamed in agony, clawing frantically at the runes, trying to stop the pain. He tore long slashes along his face in his desperation. The spell began its work. His skull was the first thing that changed. It hardened into wood, saving only his eyes from the grotesque transformation. Two thorn-covered horns sprouted from his scalp, reaching all the way down to his tail. His screams turned to harsh coughing as smoke pooled in his lungs. Unable to breathe, he writhed on the ground, clawing at the air. The witch peered down at him. In a gravelly voice, she spoke over him, "I warned you the cost was great. What this spell revealed to me was that your heart is incapable of loving another. My magic has given you what you deserve; any love or passion you once were able to feel is now gone. You will be a specter, wandering aimlessly and lost in the pain your greed caused. "But, I made a deal with you, and I will keep it. You will meet your perfect companion,“ She hissed, “but in your current state, they won’t adore you. At the sight of your monstrous form, they will run in fear. Your only chance to heal your heart will be ruined. This is your curse, your fate." Blood trickled into his eyes, blinding him, but not before he saw her blow thick smoke around him. He felt the ground beneath his claws shift as his vision failed. He fell for what felt like an hour, consumed by searing pain and fear, before crashing into water. Intense pain overwhelmed his senses. He thrashed uselessly as he tried in vain to swim towards the surface. He opened his eyes to better see which direction was up, but found that he couldn't see. He sank, his lungs burning, with no way of knowing how to get out. He couldn't breathe. Couldn’t think. He made one more kick before succumbing to darkness. When the god next awoke, he was still underwater, his lungs still burning, his scales still bleeding where it hadn't transformed into wood. He tried to scream, to cry, to swim. His nerves begin to numb after what felt like an eternity, his grip on reality slowly fading. Despite his lack of oxygen, the spell wouldn't let him die. Each time he passed out, he would wake once more in greater pain. Many moons passed, and the magic slowly started to change his body. He grew gills and small fins, and his eyes became adjusted to the darkness of the water. The slashes had turned into scars. His burns were soothed by the cold water, the runes solidifying into what appeared to be gold that melded with his scales. He adjusted, accepting his state. He floated for what seemed like an eternity, pondering his future and his curse, while becoming numb to the pain. One day, he was pulled out of his state by a feeling, a need. With his new mutations, he swam in the direction of the distant surface. He broke out of the water, coughing and spluttering at the sudden change to air. The sun blinded him, making him squint blearily around for any sign of land. He spotted a jungle in the distance, and, ducking his head underwater, swam quickly towards it. By the time he reached the shore, the sun had reached a little past midday, now bearing down harshly. The god stumbled to the edge of the jungle, seeking relief from the light. He laid down beneath a large tree, exhausted and struggling to breathe. The lack of air his gills were receiving finally caused darkness to crawl at the edge of his vision. Several days passed before he woke under the full moon. The curse had made his fins and gills vanish while he was unconscious. There was a pleasant coolness in the air, now rid of the glare of the sun.

The god felt it again, that need, and was drawn further into the forest. He came to a small pond, the surface smooth as glass. He was about to drink from it when he noticed his disfigured reflection. He drew back in horror, claws touching his mask-like face and tracing the gold. He wept, overcome with the loss of his beautiful body, now gazing at his scales, his elongated claws, his maw in disgust. Too soon, he acknowledged his monstrous visage and his fate: someone cursed with the torture of loneliness with no respite. Something in him snapped. His horror dulled to apathy, his fear turned to glee at his immortality. He wanted to test his power out. A rustle behind him made him whip his head around. There was a pack of white wolves, drawn by his scent of salt and old blood. He grinned viciously. He leaped at the nearest one, ripping his teeth into its neck. The rest sprinted away from the god, surprised and terrified at the sudden show of violence. He dropped the wolf from his jaws, looking down in satisfaction. He watched as dark blood dripped from his mouth and claws before returning to the pond to wash it off. Looking at his reflection once more, he noted instead how his old clothes had become torn and ragged, the color washed out. With a sneer, he knew that he was now every bit a monster that the witch had intended him to be- and he loved it. His old love for life and abundance withered, replaced with a desire to kill. His steps were lighter, quieter, making hunting easy. It wasn't long until he discovered clans of longneck and centaurs. Stories were told of a monster in the woods, stalking individuals through many nights before eventually striking. They spoke of the torture the misty specter put its victims through, of its laugh and how it echoed and enveloped anyone who heard it. Nights of the new moon were in particular dangerous, the lack of natural light made for perfect hunting conditions. The tales eventually reached nearby dragon clans, and after some went missing without a trace in the forests, they turned to horror stories told to hatchlings. The god became a legend, a feeling of unease on dark nights. Centuries later, he came across a mysterious dragon, alone in the woods. Curiously, she wasn't weary or anxious as all others were; she appeared to be at peace. She was sitting underneath an old willow tree, her head tilted up to the moon. She had white cloths wrapped around her, a pair of old root-like horns with birds resting on them, and ornate jewelry decorating her body. He knew immediately that this was the companion he was fated to meet, and to inevitably scare away. He no longer felt sadness or loss, however, and treated her as any other creature to cross his path. The mist around him swirled, thickening with malicious delight, crawling towards the hooded dragon. She turned to look at him as he laughed darkly. She didn't cower or scream at the spirit in front of her. In fact, the only sign that she was staring at him was a prickling sensation on the back of his neck that one gets when being watched. He sneered as he realized she was not afraid of him. Well, not yet. Grinning at the thought of her fear, he became determined to draw out her terror and get a reaction before killing her. He didn't expect her to speak. "Why is such a sad creature like you wandering the woods so late at night?" She whispered in a voice young and unimaginably old at the same time, and tilted her head. He was taken aback at the pity, but didn't show it. Instead, his grin widened to reveal sharp, bloody teeth, and replied, "I am afraid I don't see how I am the sad one, when I am not the one trying to talk to the monster in front of me as if it would spare me." He tapped his claw on his chin in mock thoughtfulness before rasping out, "Unless you don't see me as a threat? Oh, that would be very naive of you, my dear. Do you know how many beings have crossed my path, only for them to die in horrific, delightful agony?" He chuckled before answering, not waiting for an answer, "All of them. So, tell me, why are you so calm?" He had come close enough to make out the faint lines of her face, noting her neutral expression with distaste. She was silent, considering the specter in front of her. She was old enough to be able to read the gold runes from under his rags and fur, and knew that he was cursed long ago. She could guess at his torment, at his loneliness and his current mental state. The goddess came to a decision and, before he could act, tackled him to the ground. Thick roots shot out of the earth and tied him down. He snarled, struggling under the grip of the cloaked dragon. "I do not think you know who I am, lost one. Have you heard of Spring? Summer? Of the goddesses of life?" The roots tightened. "Do you have any idea who you were planning on trying to torture for your amusement?" Her voice changed from a whisper to deep and powerful, the trees shaking with her words. He drew back from her piercing gaze, and grew fearful of the goddess in front of him. He was angry at his fear, at his weakness, and scowled, but grew still. She recognized his submission, releasing him. The roots retreated, freeing his body. He drew up cautiously, bowing his head slightly in defeat. "Why not try to kill me if you know what I am? I'm sure you've heard the stories of what I've done, who I am." He growled. She tilted her head again, "I know of your curse." He peered at her before she continued. "I can read the runes on your skin. They tell me of your selfishness, and what it cost you. I assume you were drawn to me tonight because I am the companion in the spell, yes?" She studied his expression, and seeing his eyebrows knit together she continued, "You are fated to yearn for my companionship, but while you assume I will run from you, I will merely distance myself. You will follow me wherever I go, but never have the fulfillment that a close bond would give. Thus, you will continue to be alone in your heart, no matter how hard you try or what you do. The curse will be followed in this way. However, because you won't be able to will yourself away from my side, you will never be left to your own devices. I will watch you and make sure you don't harm anyone else." He knew as she said these words that she was right. He would never be able to leave her side. In that moment, he turned bitterly cold. The ground at his feet grew cold as ice, frost spreading out around his claws. Antheia noticed, and was amused that there was now a new god of winter, but even more so at the fact that he was chained to her, a goddess of spring and summer.

[notalwaysthevillian]

Lost and Found (A Sanders Sides Tangled AU)

Warnings: anxiety, manipulative/abusive deceit

Beta Readers: @hi-disappointed-im-daughter @patton-croc-agenda @kilala2tail @solemn-vow

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairings: Prinxiety

Masterlist

Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

Ko-Fi

Chapter 8

A deep chuckle echoed through the trees. Virgil’s blood turned to ice.

“I thought he’d never leave.”

Slowly, Virgil turned around. A familiar dark shape stood in the shadows. His yellow eye glinted in the firelight. “F-father?”

“Hello, dear.” He stalked forward, hood sliding off his head.

“I-I - how -” Virgil stiffened as Dorian hugged him. It felt cold and wrong. “How did you find me?”

Dorian began petting Virgil’s hair. Each pass grew more firm until his nails were scraping against Virgil’s scalp.  “Oh, it was easy. I just followed the path of complete and utter betrayal.”

A squeak left Virgil’s mouth. Swallowing his welling anxiety, he took a step back, out of the hug. “Father -”

“We’re going home.” Dorian’s tone left no room for argument. He grabbed Virgil’s wrist in an iron grip and started walking towards the inky blackness. “Now.”

Virgil tumbled forward at the movement, reaching for Dorian’s arm. “You - you don’t understand! I’ve been on this - on an incredible adventure! There are so many things that I’ve seen and learned...I - I even met someone.”

A chuckle left Dorian’s mouth. “Oh, you mean the wanted thief? Dear, I’m so proud.”

Tightening his grip, Dorian dragged Virgil towards the forest once more. Virgil pulled back with a strength he didn’t know he possessed, slipping out of the hold. “Father, wait! There might - I think...I think he likes me.”

“Likes you?” Dorian fixed Virgil with a look that had terrified him as a child. “You? That’s demented.”

Seeing Virgil’s shoulders droop, Dorian took his chance. He began to sing, hoping to get through to Virgil.

“This is why you never should’ve left.” He rested his head against a tree, attempting to calm his anger. “Dear, this whole romance that you’ve invented...just proves you’re too naive to be here.”

A grin crossed Dorian’s face when Virgil jumped at the light touch on his shoulders. “Why would he like you? Come on now, really. Look at you, you look like such a mess.”

He moved into the edge of the trees, extending his arms. “Don’t be a bother, come with father. Father -”

“NO!”

The word rang out, shocking both of them. As soon as he got over the shock, Virgil’s gaze hardened.

He wasn’t backing down this time.

Done holding back his anger, Dorian glared. “No? Oh...I see.”

He stalked forward. Virgil’s fear got the better of him and he scrambled backwards. “Virgil knows best, Virgil’s so mature now. You think you’re in for a kiss? Virgil knows best. Fine, if you’re so sure now, go ahead and give him this!”

Reaching into his cloak, Dorian pulled out the satchel he’d found in the tower.

Virgil’s eyes flew wide. “How -”

“This is why he’s here.” The tiara was pulled out and tossed at Virgil. “Don’t let him deceive you. Give it to him, watch, you’ll see!”

Determination spread across Virgil’s face. “I will!”

“Trust me my dear,” Dorian snapped his fingers, “That’s how fast he’ll leave you. I won’t say I told you so. No, VIRGIL knows best. So if he’s such a dreamboat, go and put him to the test!”

An itching sensation dug under Dorian’s skin. His magic was wearing off. As he sang his final lines, he pulled up his hood. “If he’s lying, don’t come crying! Father knows best!”

Knowing it was dangerous to his health, Dorian flipped his cloak and used his magic to disappear.

If Virgil wanted to be an adult, he’d learn just what that meant.

Virgil was left alone, shaking, staring at the tiara in his hands. Roman would stay.

Right?

“So, can I ask you something?”

Panicking, Virgil hid the tiara once more. He’d find a better time to give it to Roman. A time when he could explain.

Twigs snapped as Roman made his way through the forest, back to the fire. “Is there any chance I’m going to get super strength in my hand? It would really add to the whole dashing hero pers - are you alright?”

The wood clattered to the ground. Roman was at Virgil’s side in an instant, gently turning him around.

Virgil gave him a small smile. “Yeah. Sorry, I was...lost in thought, I guess.”

Disbelief shone in Roman’s eyes, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he began to ramble on about how great being a superhero would be. Virgil was content to listen, the deep rumble slowly lulling him to sleep.

Virgil woke up to Roman screaming. Looking around, he saw Roman being dragged off by the same horse from earlier.

Dashing forward, he grabbed Roman’s arms and pulled back. Roman’s foot popped out of the boot in the horse’s mouth, sending him and Virgil tumbling to the grass.

Shaking off the daze, Virgil’s face burned as he realized they were pressed nose to nose.

The horse whinnied and charged them. Rolling Roman off, Virgil jumped to his feet, holding out his arms. “Woah! Woah, woah, woah! Easy boy, easy!”

The horse looked at Virgil warily, but he stopped trying to get to Roman.

“I hope this works,” Virgil mumbled. “Sit.”

The horse lowered himself, but he wasn’t fully on the ground.

“Sit!”

The horse dropped the ground. Roman let out offended noises behind them. Virgil smiled. “Now drop the boot.”

The horse huffed.

“Drop it.”

Opening his mouth, the horse let the boot drop.

“Aww. You’re such a good boy! Yes you are!” Virgil moved forward, petting his face. “Are you tired from chasing this bad man all over the place?”

“Excuse me??”

“Nobody appreciates you, do they?” Virgil hugged the horse tightly. “Do they?”

The horse snorted, lowering his head and pressing it against Virgil’s back.

“Come on!” Roman called out, not having moved from where he was dumped in the grass. “He’s a bad horse!”

“Oh, hush. He’s nothing but a big sweetheart! Isn’t that right…” Virgil scratched the horse’s chin, trying to read the harness. Something about the symbol seemed oddly familiar. “Maximus?”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

Maximus looked around Virgil, locking eyes with Roman. Not wanting more trouble, Virgil stepped between them. “Look. I don’t know if you can understand me, but I hope you can. Today...well, it’s kind of a big deal. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need you to not get him arrested.”

Reaching out, Virgil helped Roman to his feet. “Just for 24 hours. Then you can chase each other all over the world. Okay?”

Letting out a sigh, Roman held out a hand. “You really think he understands?”

The horse looked away stubbornly.

Virgil rocked on his heels. “Please? It’s - it’s my birthday.”

Roman’s jaw dropped as the horse held out a hoof. They shook, somehow agreeing on a truce.

“Great! Now -” Virgil looked past them for the first time, the breath leaving his lungs. “The castle.”

He darted through the gates, stopping just before the main square. Amazed, he went to take another step forward, only to be nearly run over by a cart. He jumped backwards, stumbling when someone stepped on his hair.

Roman ran up, gathering hair as he approached. They needed a solution, and fast.

Looking over, he saw a group of sisters braiding each other’s hair. He whistled, getting their attention, and held up the hair in his arms.

Within moments, they were braiding Virgil’s hair. He couldn’t help but giggle along with them as they ducked under each other’s arms, weaving the braid expertly.

When they finished, the ran around to face him. “We can put flowers in it if you want!”

“You can do whatever you want.” He told them, seeing their faces light up in joy.

If this was how the kids at the orphanage felt, how could the king have stopped going to see them?

“Finished!” They chorused together.

Virgil looked over his shoulder. From what he could see, it looked beautiful. “Ro - what do you think?”

Roman was looking at him with a bit of a dazed gaze. Blood rushed to Virgil’s cheeks.

He really hoped Father was wrong.

“You look amazing.” Roman breathed out. After a moment, he shook his head, trying to clear it. “How about we check out some of the stands?”

“The stands?” Looking around, Virgil realized that there were tons of different stands and booths as far as he could see. Some sold different pastries, some fruits, and some crafts. “What’s all this for?”

“You didn’t think they just let off the lanterns, did you?” Roman walked over, grabbing Virgil’s hands. “It’s a festival.”

The two began to browse various booths.  Roman bought Virgil a small piece of fabric with the royal crest on it. It was a beautiful eight pointed star. The silver paint shimmered against the purple fabric.

A few children ran by, holding various colors of chalk. Virgil followed them to a more subdued part of the square to find them drawing on the street.

The looked up as he walked over to them. “Mind if I join?”

A little girl with a torn dress grabbed his hand and dragged him to the pile of chalk. Virgil thought for a moment before grabbing a purple and a gray. He drew quickly and with practiced ease, standing when he was done. He wiped his arm on his forehead before gesturing towards his masterpiece.

The exact replica of the royal crest had all the children in awe, as well as several adults. Roman was shocked at the skill Virgil had. He turned to give praise, laughing when he saw the smear of purple on Virgil’s forehead.

“Let me help you with that.” Roman said, reaching out and carefully wiping off the chalk.

The jingling of guard uniforms had them taking off. They hid in line for cupcakes, grabbing their order and moving to an alcove before they were spotted. The guards passed right by them, making Virgil giggle.

He glanced up to find Roman giving him another fond look. He could feel himself start to blush and opted to hide it by digging into the cupcake. A slight lemon flavor burst over his tongue, making him hum with delight.

After they finished the cupcakes, they decided it would be best to hide out for a little longer. Remembering the few books he’d seen on Virgil’s bookshelf, Roman dragged him into a nearby bookstore. Virgil was in awe at how many books the small shop held.

Looking around, Roman grabbed an atlas. “Care to see the world?”

Virgil’s eyes lit up and he grabbed the book, placing it on the floor. Roman knelt next to him, pointing out the kingdoms he’d read about at a child.

“Over here is Atlantis, though no one thinks it exists.” Roman pointed to a spot in the ocean. He moved his finger across the map, pointing fairly close by. “Arendelle is here. I think they’re related to the current kings. I’m not sure, but I believe the queen is King Patton’s cousin.”

Once they were sure the guards were gone, the two headed back out. Virgil pointed to a stand with fresh cheese. While in line, Virgil looked around at the gorgeous village. Not too far off, he spotted a mosaic of the royal family covered in flowers. Two men were holding onto a little baby with a tuft of gray hair.

A young girl and her family sat in front of the art. The girl held a flower in her hand, placing it on the steps. “It’s for the lost prince.”

Before Virgil could get a closer look at the artwork, some local musicians began playing. The music filled his heart with joy and he started dancing. A little boy looked on in awe, a shy smile on his face. Virgil danced his way over, picking the child up and swinging him around. His shrieks of glee drew more townspeople to the square.

Virgil grabbed a few more people before others joined of their own accord. Soon the square was full of people dancing and laughing. He waved Roman in at one point, only to be denied. His smile faltered until he noticed the horse nudge Roman into the fray of people.

Twirling around, the two reached for each other, only to be pulled away at the last moment.

The dancing continued as the sun went down. As the last beat of the song rang out, Virgil found himself thrust into Roman’s arms. The crowd let out a loud cheer.

“To the boats!” A voice called out. The crowd began to disperse, heading for the bay.

Virgil stepped out of Roman’s arms, watching the townspeople leave.

Sucking in a deep breath, Roman wrapped his arms around Virgil’s thin waist. Warmth bloomed in his chest as he felt Virgil relax into his arms. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

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