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starlightkun · 6 months ago

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⏯ word count: 16.6k ⏯ warnings: general angst around not knowing what you’re doing with your life, the usual cursing ⏯ genre: fluff, suggestive/steamy but no actual smut, strangers to lovers, band au, punk drummer!sungchan, office worker!reader, not really badboy x good girl trope, more like sungchan has tattoos and reader is… a bit boring and hates her job. but she’s trying!, reader is having a quarter life crisis, ft. shotaro/eunseok/wonbin as sungchan’s bandmates, and nct dream 00 line as reader’s normal friends™ ⏯ author’s note: take a shot every time i say ‘tattoos’ in this fic, and you’ll die of alcohol poisoning! ⏯ sequel ⏯ now playing… quarter life – txt | NEED (ooo-eee) – løren | medicine – woz

── ⋆⋅♫⋅⋆ find more stories from backstage at venue:hell here!

“If you really want to do something brand new…” Sungchan took your receipt out of your hand, writing on the back of it with a pen that was on the counter. “Make this your thing for tomorrow.”

“You still haven’t told me what you do.”

“Live a little. And bring some friends, yeah? Don’t want you getting lonely in the mosh pit.”

“Y/N’s hit her quarter-life crisis,” Jaemin announced for you as the two of you joined your other friends at dinner.

You groaned and dropped your head in your hands, already regretting telling him your idea.

“24…” Renjun muttered to himself, then said louder, “Hey, life expectancy of 96, not bad.”

“So what is it?” Donghyuck grinned. “A tattoo? Nipple piercings? I can’t see any hair dye or choppy bangs done with kitchen scissors, so—”

“Don’t give her any ideas.” Jaemin shot him a disapproving look.

“So she doesn’t know what her quarter-life crisis is going to be yet? She’s… planning it out?” Jeno asked skeptically.

“No. She’s decided to do one spontaneous and/or new thing every day,” Jaemin explained your idea to the group.

“Oh. That’s not so bad.”

“So you’re in your manic pixie dream girl era… at 24,” Renjun nodded slowly.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, sitting up straighter as you went to defend yourself. “It’s not a… thing. I’m just tired of feeling like my whole life is filler, okay?”

“Main character syndrome,” Donghyuck declared.

“No, I’m not going to expect the entire world to revolve around me and call random people in public NPCs,” you retorted. “I just want something different in my life, alright? You know I’ve never even gotten drunk?”

“24 is not the time to start,” Renjun stated disapprovingly.

“Exactly, we’re not 19. Can’t get blackout and snap back the next day anymore.” Jaemin shook his head.

Donghyuck looked a bit miffed at Jaemin’s advice. “Speak for yourself.”

“I’ve barely been tipsy,” you pointed out.

“So you’ve always had a prefrontal cortex, unlike us. Congrats,” Jeno shrugged. “I don’t think that’s a bad thing?”

“I’m the boring friend, aren’t I?”

“Boring isn’t bad!” Donghyuck tried to reassure you.

“So I am,” you huffed, dropping your cheek into your palm.

“You’re plenty of fun, Y/N,” Jaemin promised, rubbing your arm soothingly.

“If we didn’t like you, and didn’t have fun with you, we wouldn’t hang out with you,” Jeno pointed out, actually sort of making you feel a little better.

“I’m fun like rotting in bed all day is fun.” You knew you were just pouting now, but you were finding it hard to shake your sullen feeling.

“Exactly!” Donghyuck said brightly.

“Shut up!” Jaemin hissed at him, and you heard a sudden yelp as you imagined that Jaemin had kicked your other friend under the table.

“Y/N, do what you need to do.” Renjun leaned forward across the table. “We’re your friends, so here’s the obligatory: don’t die, don’t get maimed, and if you do something illegal, don’t get arrested.”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you guys. I’m not even doing crazy things. Yesterday I walked home instead of taking the subway,” you informed them glumly.

“That’s new!” Jaemin cheered supportively, squeezing your shoulders.

“Yeah, whatever…”

Clutching your tote bag strap tighter to your body, you turned onto a street, trying to ignore the sun that was getting lower in the sky. Surely this way would lead towards your apartment. You’d lived in this city your whole life, you could walk from your work to your home, two places that you went to every single day.

There was a tall man outside one of the shops on this street, and you went to skirt around him on the sidewalk as he swept a few stray leaves and dirt out of a bookstore. Other than him, the street was fairly quiet, many of the stores having already closed up for the day.

“What are you doing?” The young man called out to you before you could fully pass him by.

You pivoted around on your heel, quickly looking around to see if there was anybody else that he could possibly be talking to. But it was definitely just you and him.

He looked about your age, wearing a cream pink long-sleeve button down presumably as part of the store uniform, though you weren’t sure if he really needed to have it buttoned all the way to the top button. It seemed a bit too warm out for that.

“Walking. Why?”

“This is the fourth time you’ve walked by here.” He did a sweeping point to the sidewalk in front of the shop, then leaned against the broom he had been cleaning with. “Wasn’t sure if you might have a particular destination in mind.”

“Fuck! I knew I was going in circles!”

“You’re lost.”

“Yeah, this isn’t my normal way home…”

“And your phone died?” He cocked his head curiously.

“No, I’m trying to get home without using my phone map,” you admitted, looking around for any familiar landmarks.

“Why? That’s what it’s for.”

“It’s… You’ll think it’s stupid. My friends did.”

He shrugged. “Probably. But why does that matter to you? I’m just some guy.”

“I’ve been doing something new every day. Just small things. But if I change enough little things, then everything will have changed.”

The guy was quiet for a beat, looking altogether unimpressed, then asked, “Where do you live?”

“Uh…”

“General area, see if I can give you directions from here.”

“Oh, uhm, if you can get me to the tea shop on Magnolia, I can get myself home from there.”

“Jade Gardens, I know it,” he nodded, then pointed left down the street, in the same direction that you had just come from. “That way, left onto North Oak, right onto Foxtail, another right onto Broad Street, it’ll eventually dead end into Magnolia, keep going until you see the tea shop.”

“Left onto North Oak, right onto Foxtail, right onto Broad,” you recited. “Got it, thank you!”

“Stay safe.” He waved you off, returning to sweeping without seeing if you had gone the way he’d pointed you.

It was Monday that you got lost and were given directions home by the questionably friendly but overall helpful bookstore worker, and the tea shop on Magnolia had been on your mind since. So on Thursday, you decided to stop by after work. You were running low on the green tea that you usually kept in stock at home, and thought that you might pick up something new for yourself.

Opening the door to Jade Gardens that Thursday, you were enveloped by the familiar aromatic smells wafting around the small shop. When you didn’t hear the usual kind voice of the owner, Mrs. Choi, greeting you, you peered around the aisle that you were in to look for her.

“Mrs. Choi?” You called out, also not hearing her TV show that she usually was watching behind the counter between helping customers. You were by the black teas anyway, so you didn’t mind wandering into the next aisle as you looked for any other sign of life in the shop.

“She’s not in,” a voice that was definitely not Mrs. Choi informed you right as you turned the corner into the beginning of the green teas. You could see enough of the man’s profile to recognize him as he stood by some of the shelves in the store. The worker from the bookstore. He was standing over an open cardboard box, a couple tins of tea in his hands.

“Uhm…” You trailed off, blinking at him as you weren’t sure exactly what to say. He placed the tins on the shelf.

“You think I’m stalking you, don’t you?” He said flatly, turning to show you the name badge on his longsleeve teal shirt. It was metallic gold, with the name SUNGCHAN engraved into it. “I work here too. For the past six months.”

“Oh, right.” You relaxed, flashing him a smile. As he went back to restocking and you went back to looking at the tea on the shelves that he wasn’t currently stocking, you commented lightly, “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I work Tuesdays and Thursdays. You ever been here on a Tuesday or a Thursday?”

“No. I always come on Sundays.”

“There you go.” He had emptied the box of product he was restocking from, and carried it into the back. When he reemerged, he stopped behind the register, but engaged you in conversation again, “So is this your new thing for today? Coming on a Thursday instead of Sunday?”

“Yeah.”

“And? Is your whole life different yet?”

“I’ve only been doing this for two weeks…” You replied defensively, looking over at him from the two kinds of green tea that you were debating between.

“Have you done anything new yet?” Sungchan asked, arching an eyebrow.

“That’s the whole point—”

“From what I know, as some guy who doesn’t even know your name, is that you have walked home from work without using the maps on your phone—something you would have done anyway—and gone to a shop that you go to regularly, just on a different day of the week. Have you done anything that you’ve never done before at all?”

“My name is Y/N, by the way.” You bit the inside of your cheek, and grabbed your tea selection. “Ordering a drink I’ve never tried at my usual boba place doesn’t count, does it?”

“You already know the answer, Y/N.”

“The point isn’t to quit my job and travel the world and completely overhaul my life—”

“I thought it was to change everything?”

“If I change enough little things, then—”

“—everything will have changed.” “—everything will have changed.” The two of you finished at the same time, Sungchan putting more emphasis on ‘everything,’ a pointed look on his face.

“I just don’t get how everything is supposed to change by you coming to a tea shop on a different day one time, but still working the same job you hate,” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“How do you know I hate my job?!” You retorted, bringing your selections up to the counter.

“If you loved it, you wouldn’t be in a crisis about changing your whole life.”

“Do you like your two jobs?”

“They’re fine.” He shrugged, ringing up your purchases.

You handed him your card. “Fine?”

“They’re just my day jobs.”

“And what’s your night job then?”

A smirk grew on his face as he bagged your tins of tea. “Nah.”

“‘Nah?’” You repeated incredulously.

“You’re not doing anything new. No point telling you.”

“If it’s stand-up, I don’t want to know,” you snorted.

“It’s not stand-up.”

“Mm, I don’t know, you’re giving me real stand-up energy right now,” you snipped, gesturing to his entire demeanor. “I’m really glad you haven’t told me, actually, because I can’t control my face when I’m told bad jokes.”

“I don’t do stand-up comedy,” he reiterated with the same calm, self-assured tone, handing you your bag of tea and receipt.

“Considering you’re refusing to tell me, I’m convinced it’s like, open mic nights. Tight fives, not even a full—”

“Not stand-up,” he said again. “But considering how badly you’re begging me to tell you—”

“Pretty sure you’re the one desperately trying to convince me you don’t do stand-up, but—”

“If you really want to do something brand new…” He took your receipt out of your hand, writing on the back of it with a pen that was on the counter. “Make this your thing for tomorrow.”

You accepted the receipt when he held it back out to you. “You still haven’t told me what you do.”

“Live a little. And bring some friends, yeah? Don’t want you getting lonely in the mosh pit.”

Your eyes scanned the address and time he had scrawled on your receipt. “Mosh pit?”

“We’re going to fucking die,” Donghyuck declared from beside you as soon as your group of friends entered the basement of the building that Sungchan had given you the address to. It was already packed with people, dark, and loud.

“Nobody drink anything!” Jaemin hissed, clutching onto your other arm. “Especially Y/N! Getting drunk is one thing, I don’t want getting roofied to be on your bucket list.”

“It’s not, Jaem,” you retorted. “Trust me.”

“Why the fuck are we here again?” Renjun yelled from behind you over the din of the crowd.

“Y/N met some hot guy—Ow!” Donghyuck had gotten cut off by you stomping on his foot.

“Sorry, it’s so crowded in here!” You glared at him. “I didn’t say anything about what he looked like. I needed something new to do for today, this seemed as good an option as any.”

“Okay, well, what the hell is this? Basement party?” Jeno asked, next to Renjun.

“I think it’s a concert?” You couldn’t see anything over the heads of the other people. “He said something about a mosh pit…”

They all exchanged a look.

“We’re going to fucking die,” Donghyuck repeated.

A roaring started up in the crowd, and you looked around in bewilderment to see what had gotten them all excited. In the far corner of the basement, it looked like a band was getting set up to play, two guitarists, a bassist, but it was the drummer that made you do a double take. You couldn’t be quite sure from the distance, the poor lighting, and the fact that the tank top he was wearing exposed two sleeves of tattoos along rather defined arms that you had never previously seen unclothed, but… that might just be Sungchan.

“We need to get closer,” you declared to your friends, yanking Jaemin along with you.

“What?!” Renjun yelped, following you nevertheless.

“Did you forget the part where he apparently said mosh pit?” Donghyuck scrambled after you.

“At least let Jeno be our human shield!” Jaemin pleaded with you.

“Thanks for volunteering me, Jaemin,” Jeno snorted, but willingly took the role, stepping in front of you to clear a path a bit easier than you had been doing on your own.

The five of you stuck out a bit, you noticed. You hadn’t exactly been given a dress code, nor a description of what to expect, so you did unfortunately stick out like a sore thumb among all the black, leather, and more black. It wasn’t that you were wearing a rainbow so much as you were clearly wearing something… uptight in comparison. Corporate. All you had was work clothes, and stuff to go to work dinners in. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out to something even remotely like this. You’d done your best to dress down without wearing pajamas, but it was obvious that you were out of place.

Finally, you got close enough to the band to be able to make out the drummer’s face. He was looking down, making a final adjustment to his instrument, and when he looked back up, he pushed some of his hair out of his eyes. Definitely Sungchan. So this was his night job. Drummer. For just a second, his gaze flicked over the crowd, and you couldn’t be absolutely sure—after all, it was packed in there—but you swore he saw you for a second, surprise on his features for a moment before a cocky smirk overtook it.

One of the guitarists said something, they all had mics, you were pretty sure he was introducing the band or something, but this close to the speakers, all you could do was feel the words in your chest, not hear them with your ears. And when the music actually started, you felt like it was rearranging your brain matter. The crowd didn’t seem to really know the songs, as nobody sang along, but they were having fun nonetheless, dancing, jumping, and headbanging. As you got on your tiptoes to keep peering over Jeno’s shoulder at Sungchan, you found yourself bouncing along to the beat. Someone must have bumped into Renjun, as he stumbled into your back, and you let out a squeak and latched onto Jeno’s shoulders to avoid losing your balance.

“What is going on back there?” Jeno turned around.

You looked back at Renjun as well, who was now squeezing himself in between you and Donghyuck. Just behind and to the side of you, closer to the middle of the crowd, something was going on. Everyone was moving around a lot more, and… shoving each other?

“Mosh pit,” Renjun shook his head.

You kept your grip on Jeno’s shoulders, using them as leverage to stay on your tiptoes as you watched the performance. They had a lot of passion, you couldn’t deny that. You thought that maybe if you could actually parse out more of the melody and words being sung, you might even like their music.

Then it was over after what felt like less than a handful of songs. One of the guitarists seemed to thank the crowd briefly as Sungchan sat and spun one of his drumsticks mindlessly. And then they were done. The guitarists and bassist took their instruments with them as they disappeared into an adjoining room, and Sungchan stood up and took his sticks.

“They’re done, are we done?” Renjun requested.

“Sure, sure,” you agreed, having satiated your curiosity.

Back on the street, everyone let out a simultaneous breath of relief. Your lungs were happy to be inhaling fresh air again, and the sounds of the city streets at night felt quiet in comparison to that basement.

“My ears are ringing,” Jaemin groaned.

“Mine are bleeding,” Donghyuck scoffed.

“They weren’t that bad, Hyuck,” you rolled your eyes.

“Okay, which one was he?” He pointed an accusing finger at you. “Bookstore-slash-tea shop guy. Which one was he?”

“What?”

“He was in the band, wasn’t he? That’s why he invited you, that’s why you’re not agreeing with me right now. No way you actually liked that noise. So? Which one?”

“You’re annoying.”

“Bet he was the bassist,” Renjun took a crack at guessing. “Totally your type, Y/N.”

“I think it was the frontman, he would’ve been the only one shameless enough to beg for girls to come to their shows,” Jaemin retorted.

“Definitely not the drummer, did you see those tattoos? Our Y/N wouldn’t have gone to some random address that a guy like that gave her,” Jeno snickered.

“I’m not prejudiced, assholes,” you replied, a bit miffed when Jaemin and Renjun nodded their heads in agreement at Jeno’s assessment.

Jaemin gently reassured you, “No, of course not. You just… stick to what you know.”

“Says the four guys who were begging to leave. I thought I was supposed to be the boring friend?”

“There’s a difference between being fun and patently stupid,” Renjun snorted. “Going to a random address that some weird guy gives you falls into the second category.”

“I think it was the drummer,” Donghyuck announced, narrowing his eyes at you. “He invited you, didn’t he, Y/N?”

You poked your tongue against the inside of your cheek. “He was wearing longsleeves…”

“Knew it,” he grinned victoriously. “The other guitarist was blonde. Blondes aren’t your type.”

“So I’m predictable even when I’m trying to be unpredictable?” You groaned.

“Uh-huh.”

“We’re still getting food, right?” Jeno asked hopefully.

“Hell yeah,” Donghyuck threw an arm around your neck and shook you around. “On Y/N!”

You elbowed him in the side. “Yes to food, fuck no I’m not paying for you again Hyuck. Freeload off someone else.”

“It’s not freeloading, it’s compensation, for the damage that your boyfriend’s shitty band did to my eardrums.”

“I don’t even know him, you dick.” You shoved him off you this time, inadvertently directly into Renjun, who complained loudly at being collateral damage. “Sorry, Renjun.”

“Push him off a bridge next time, not into me,” he scoffed, straightening his clothes.

“You’ve got to stop letting him rile you up, Y/N,” Jaemin advised you, looping his arm with yours.

“Says the man who was literally threatening to run him over two days ago.”

On Monday, you walked down the street with a particular destination in mind this time. You pushed the door to the bookstore open, making the bell above it ring lightly. The inside smelled like old books and pine.

“Sorry, we’re actually about to…” Sungchan trailed off when he looked up from the register and spotted you.

“Are you closing? I can go,” you offered, already sheepishly backing up towards the exit again.

“No, you can stay. Just turn the closed sign around and flip the lock for me, will you?” He gestured to the door.

You did so, and took a few hesitant steps further into the shop as he went back to closing out the register. You were admittedly staring at him a little, trying to line up the visage of the tattooed drummer you’d seen at the show with the man in a cream pink button-up in front of you, no visible body art in sight. His hair was nicely parted and styled to show some of his forehead; he could even blend in at your office.

“Wasn’t expecting you to actually show up,” Sungchan said, pushing the drawer of the register closed.

You rolled your eyes. “Do I really seem like that much of a drag?”

“You’re wearing a pantsuit.”

“It’s a blazer and slacks! That’s not—” You looked down at your own clothes, cutting yourself off with a huff. “Point taken. From the man wearing a pink button-up.”

“Uniform.” He indicated to the shop around him generally. “I’d wear the short-sleeve option, but I have to look… how’d Mr. Kang put it? Respectable.”

“Mm, of course. I almost didn’t recognize you without the sleeves and with the… sleeves,” you finished awkwardly, trying not to picture his biceps right in that moment.

He chuckled, sitting down on a stool behind the counter. “So who was the guy?”

It took you a second to follow his leap in conversation, and even then, you didn’t quite stick the landing, only able to explain, “The guys were my friends. You told me to bring some, if you’ll recall.”

“I meant the one that you were hanging onto the whole time.”

“I didn’t realize you were watching me the whole time,” you teased, tilting your head.

“You picked a spot right in front of me. Couldn’t help but notice.”

“Jeno is my friend, as I just said. He’s sturdy, I was trying not to fall over.”

Sungchan looked at his phone. “Have you done your new thing for today?”

“By your standards? No.”

He stood up, grabbing a backpack from the ground to sling over his shoulder and jerked his head towards a narrow hallway behind him. “Come on.”

With the voice of Jaemin nagging you in the back of your mind, you followed him. At the end of the hallway was the back door of the bookstore, which led you into the alleyway between rows of shops. Sungchan locked up behind you, then dropped his bag at his feet and opened it.

“Where are we going?” You questioned.

“Food. You haven’t had dinner, have you?” He replied, starting to unbutton his shirt from the collar.

You failed to come up with an answer as he untucked it and slipped one arm out. “What are you doing?”

“Changing my shirt.” He stared back at you, the button up hanging off of one arm. You could see now that the tattoos extended onto his pecs as well. “Turn around if you want.”

Feeling like you were losing some kind of challenge, you turned your back to him, continuing your previous conversation instead. “No, I haven’t eaten.”

“Neither have I.” The zipper on the bag opened.

“But what if I’ve been to the place before?”

“I don’t think you have.” Zipped back up.

“If you told me the name—”

“Ready,” Sungchan declared, stepping up next to you. He was now in a dark shirt that had the logo of what you were sure was another band on it, and a worn leather jacket with an assortment of patches. He ran his fingers through his hair, intentionally shaking it out of the nice style from before and into a more natural, messy state. He took off down the alley, leaving you to follow after him.

“You’re not going to tell me the name of the place we’re going, are you?” You sighed.

“No.”

“What if I have allergies?”

“Do you?”

“…No.”

Sungchan turned down another street. “You left early. You missed the other bands.”

“Didn’t know there were other bands, and my friends were hungry.” You shrugged, opting not to tell him that your friends hated his music and had been begging you to leave. And that you didn’t put up a fight about going.

“Leaving after four songs to get food. Your friends sound lame.”

“They’re fun,” you immediately went to defend them. “I’m the boring one out of us. They’ve at least actually gotten drunk.”

The two of you had reached a crosswalk with the stop hand lit up. You stopped and pressed the button to wait for it to change. Sungchan paused just long enough to look both ways, then took your elbow in a loose grip and pulled you into the empty crosswalk.

“Let’s go.”

“What are you—”

“There’s nobody coming.” His hand slid down your arm to grab your hand as he walked backwards in front of you, gesturing widely with his other arm. “See? Not the end of the world.”

“I’m going to laugh if you trip over the curb behind you,” you informed him mildly, already eyeing the approaching sidewalk.

“If I fall, I’m taking you down with me.” He grinned.

“And you’ll break my fall.”

“Like in every good rom-com.”

“Are we making bets on if you’ll have a first- or second-degree concussion from hitting your head on the pavement?”

Sungchan turned around then, just in time to step up onto the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. He smiled down at you smugly, and you made a small ‘hmph’ sound in the back of your throat. You noted that he didn’t let go of your hand as you kept walking. You didn’t shake him off.

“How far away is this place?” You checked the time on your phone. “I have work in the morning.”

“Not too far. I can’t be out late either. I have practice tonight.”

“You called the bookstore and the tea shop your day jobs, and the band is your night job…”

“Uh-huh.”

“We didn’t have to pay a cover or anything to get in on Friday. How much does your night job actually pay?”

“That one was for fun. And a twelve-pack,” he answered nonchalantly. “Where we are now, a gig is a gig.”

“They paid you in beer and exposure?” You summarized dryly.

“It was just a friend’s basement, not a real concert venue or anything.”

“Oh, underground. Literally.”

He snorted. “You’re hilarious.”

“I try.”

“Maybe you should do stand-up.”

“No thanks, my day job is paying me just fine.”

He clicked his tongue. “And yet you hate it.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“You’ve yet to tell me otherwise.”

You sighed, but unfortunately, you couldn’t outright disagree with him. The two of you turned onto another street, where you bumped up into the back of a line for a food truck. Sungchan stopped you there, letting go of your hand to reach into his jacket and pull out his wallet.

“You got cash on you?” He asked, flicking through the bills in his wallet.

“No, do I need some?” You only had your phone and your credit cards.

“They’re cash only,” he nodded towards the food truck. “It’s fine, I’ll pay.”

“Sungchan, you don’t have to,” you insisted. “We can just eat somewhere else.”

“My idea, you didn’t know, I’ll pay.” He shook his head. The line moved up then, and he urged you forward with a hand on the small of your back. “Unless you think I’m broke because I don’t have some office job that I hate like you.”

“I didn’t say that! But you did just tell me you recently got paid in beer and exposure.”

“And have two other jobs,” he reminded you.

You didn’t outright accept his offer, but didn’t argue anymore. Getting on your tiptoes, you tried to look for a menu over the other customers in line.

“What do they even have?”

“Changes every week. We’ll find out when we order.”

“What if you don’t like what they’re selling this week?”

“What do I keep telling you? Live a little.”

“Fine.” You dropped back down to flat feet with a sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. “How do you know about this place?”

“Couple of my friends run it, when they’re not playing.”

“They’re in a band too?”

“Uh-huh. That’s why it’s only open once a week. They’re performing or rehearsing every other day.” The line moved up again.

“Why have a food truck then? Food trucks run on narrow margins, they can’t be making enough money to cover their living expenses if they only do it once a week.”

“It’s not their day job. Music is.” He pointed to a piece of paper that was taped onto the side of the truck, the handwriting so faded you could barely make it out. Sungchan told you what it said anyway, “All the profits go to a local women’s shelter. And a lot of their ingredients and other stuff is donations, makes the margins a little less narrow.”

When you looked up at him curiously, he simply added, “The most punk thing you can do is help people.”

The two of you were finally at the front of the line, and a man’s head popped into view at the window. With the t-shirt he had on, you could see the tattoos that seemed to cover every inch of skin from his knuckles to his neck, the ink looking well-settled. He had gauges in his ears, the jewelry a bright rainbow of colors, and you couldn’t even count how many other piercings he had in addition to those. He seemed older than yourself and Sungchan, maybe late thirties or even early forties if you had to guess, a few specks of grey peppering his stubble.

He flashed Sungchan a bright smile as soon as he recognized him, deep crow’s feet around his eyes. “Hey, Sungchan! How are you? Sorry we missed your set Friday, SooSoo was up all night with a fever.”

“Don’t worry about it. Is she feeling better?” Sungchan asked.

“Yep, fever finally broke at like three in the morning Saturday, back to her normal self by Sunday.”

“Good to hear.”

“Anyway, let’s get you some food. I’m sure you didn’t bring your girl all the way out here to hear about my sick baby,” the older man chuckled.

Sungchan just laughed along and put in your orders. When the man turned around to help the other worker, a woman, prepare the food, you looked up at him suspiciously.

“Hm?” He had apparently noticed your look. “Oh, sorry, he was talking about his daughter, Yeonsoo. She’s… oh probably six months old now? Real cute.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Here you go.” The man was back at the window, two paper baskets of food in hand.

Sungchan went to grab a few bills out of his wallet. “How much?”

“On the house.”

“Jay, come on. Seriously, man, how much?”

“I’m serious, no charge tonight.” Jay shook his head. “You’ve never brought a date. So say thank you, don’t keep her waiting, and stop holding up my line.”

Sungchan sighed, stuffing the bills he had already grabbed into the tip jar that was on the counter and taking the food. “Thanks, man.”

“Goodnight, you two!” Jay sent you off with a jovial wave. Before you got too far, you could’ve sworn you heard a woman’s voice ask from inside the truck, “Did you say Sungchan had a date with him?”

The drummer handed you a basket of food as you started a meandering pace down the sidewalk. You took a bite to avoid talking about what just happened, despite the fact that it was very much the only thing you were thinking about.

“Oh, that’s really good,” you said, unable to contain your tone of pleasant surprise.

“I wasn’t going to take you somewhere shit for your new thing,” he replied.

“So if I told you that I had already completed my new thing for today, we would’ve gone somewhere with bad food?”

“Well, no, because I wouldn’t have believed you.”

“Oh, of course,” you scoffed.

“You probably would’ve counted going to see me at the bookstore as your something new, right?”

“I’ve never done that before. I don’t know how that doesn’t count.”

“You have talked to me at the bookstore before. When I gave you directions.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t on purpose. And I didn’t go into the store, and it wasn’t like, a real conversation.”

“Still doesn’t count.”

“And who assigned you to decide if something counts or not? This is my thing.”

“You’re the one listening to me. I’m just some guy, remember? You could’ve told me to fuck off at any point.” He took a big bite of his food, wiping at the stray crumbs around his mouth with the back of his hand. “So either you’re really easy to peer pressure—which I doubt, considering you’ve never even gotten drunk—or you actually kind of agree with me.”

You were silent, scowling down at your rather delicious food.

“Which is it? Want me to fuck off or am I maybe kinda right?”

“Why do you even care?” You questioned in lieu of an answer. “I’m just someone who you gave directions to one time. Why do you care if I actually change my whole life with my stupid little plan?”

“Who said I care?”

“Then what is all this?”

“I’m not trying to be your life coach, Y/N.” Sungchan shrugged, then his features split into a grin. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t want to be along for the ride.”

You stared down at your feet as you thought about it, about how different Sungchan’s life was from yours just from the brief glimpses you’d gotten of it. Looking back up at him, you nodded. “I could probably use some help brainstorming new things…”

“Deal.”

“Hell no.”

Sungchan grabbed your arm before you could turn and walk away from him completely. When he’d texted you the address to meet at, you thought that surely the online maps listing hadn’t been updated recently, and it was actually a restaurant or concert venue, or any other litany of things. But no, you were in fact standing in front of a tattoo shop with Sungchan, as your something new for today.

“Not for you, not for you,” he quickly reassured you. “I’m getting a new one. Have you ever been in a tattoo shop?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, looking at the darkened windows apprehensively. “No…”

“I promise you’ll make it out alive,” he teased, to which you shot him an unamused glare. “Let’s go.”

Inside was surprisingly quiet. Rock music played over the speakers at a low volume, and there was already one artist set up with a client, the tattoo gun buzzing as she worked on a large piece on their calf. But really, you’d been in libraries that were louder. Sungchan guided you over to the front desk with a hand on your back, the man behind it already standing up to greet him.

“Sungchan, hey!” The guy beamed, reaching out to shake Sungchan’s free hand. He was younger, around your age, maybe a few years older, with a patchwork sleeve of dozens of colorful, bold tattoos along his arms.

“Hey, Johnny,” Sungchan shook his hand. “How are you?”

“Just got back from doing guest slots out of town, so I’m happy to get back in the groove of my usual shop.” Johnny’s twinkling eyes then focused on you. “And who’s this?”

“This is Y/N.” Sungchan seemed to smoothly sidestep mentioning who you were in relation to him. “You don’t mind if she hangs out during my appointment, right? One guest?”

“Not at all.” The artist then picked up a tablet from the counter. “Let me show you what I’ve got drawn up, hm?”

You peered around Sungchan curiously as they went over the design. It was a black and grey circle of flowers, leaves, thorns, and branches all interwoven together. A few birds hovered along the outside of it. In the corner of the canvas that the sketch was on, you could see the reference photos that Johnny had used, of an old porcelain plate that looked like it belonged in your grandmother’s china cabinet, not on a punk drummer's skin.

“It’s great, man. You nailed it,” Sungchan gave his approval.

“And for placement, you said your back, right?”

“Yeah, I was thinking left shoulder blade?” He shook off his jacket, grabbed the collar of his tank top and took it off in one go. Both him and Johnny moved around so Sungchan could see his own back in the full-length mirror propped up on a nearby wall.

“If you fill up the rest of your back in the future, you’ll have an odd hole in the middle of that shoulder from the center of this tattoo,” Johnny pointed out, tracing where the gap would be on Sungchan’s otherwise bare skin with his tablet stylus. “Unless you were to add something in the middle of this design later on. Depending on the size we do now, that might be difficult.”

“That’s a couple options. What else you think? Upper middle?”

“Yeah, centering it will look good, whether or not you fill the rest of your back, and even if you leave the middle of the ring empty,” Johnny agreed.

“Center it is then.”

“How big are you thinking?” Johnny held his hands up parallel to each other at the top of Sungchan’s spine. “This? A little bigger? I wouldn’t go any smaller or you’ll lose detail.”

“Bigger.”

Johnny moved his bottom hand down. “Hm?”

“Yeah, about that much?”

“I’ll print a couple sizes and we’ll see how it looks.”

As Johnny sat back at the desk to print out the stencils, you walked over to Sungchan, keeping your eyes on his face.

“Whose plate is that?” You asked curiously.

“How do you know I didn’t just find it on the internet and like the design?” He tilted his head.

“The cottagecore vibes really don’t match the rest of your work.”

He looked down at his own forearms and laughed. “Okay, fair. It’s my grandmother’s.”

“Hm.” You couldn’t help but smile fondly at the idea.

Johnny returned then with a couple different stencil sizes, and he and Sungchan went back to the mirror. After determining the size of the design, the area was prepped, and the stencil applied. You watched with interest as the design was transferred from the paper to Sungchan’s skin in purple ink.

“Go check that in the mirror,” Johnny instructed.

Sungchan stood back up from where he had laid down for the application, using a second mirror in his hand to look at it closer. He motioned with his head for you to join him. “What do you think? Is it centered?”

You got up from the stool that you had been given to walk over to the mirror as well, standing behind Sungchan to evaluate the placement of the stencil. “Stand up straight. And straighten out your shoulders, you know you slouch?”

Johnny snickered from his seat.

Squinting one eye closed, then the other, you finally gave a short nod. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“That’s the best you can hope for with her, Johnny,” Sungchan joked, returning to the padded table to lay down. “‘Fine.’”

You rolled your eyes, but took your seat on the side opposite from the tattoo artist anyway.

“High praise. Let’s do it,” Johnny grinned.

As Johnny got to work, you watched the first few strokes of his tattoo gun with interest, as the ink was deposited into Sungchan’s skin.

“You have any tattoos, Y/N?” Johnny asked, not looking up from his work.

“No,” you replied. Looking at Sungchan’s face next, which was mostly concealed by his arms and the pillow, he didn’t have any outward expression of pain. “Does it… hurt?”

The both of them chuckled, and you tried not to feel patronized, then Sungchan answered, “You ever been scratched by a cat?”

“Yeah…”

“It’s like that, but worse, and continuously.”

“Doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“It’s worse if you’re by bone,” Johnny added. “Or other sensitive areas.”

“Again, doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“An hour or so of unpleasantness in exchange for a lifetime of a cool tattoo,” Sungchan said in a tone of voice that made you think he would’ve shrugged if it weren’t for the tattoo gun currently on his upper back. “Easy trade-off if you ask me.”

“So how did you two meet?” Johnny’s voice didn’t carry any judgment, if anything he almost sounded amused.

“She came by the bookshop,” Sungchan answered simply. “You know, one of my day jobs.”

“Now that makes sense. No offense, Y/N, but you seem much more like a bookstore and coffee shops kind of girl than a basement mosh pit regular.”

You nodded slowly. “None taken… What you see is what you get with me.”

“Oh, she’s been trying new things,” Sungchan chuckled. “She’s been to a show.”

“And? What’d you think?” Johnny looked up at you eagerly.

You were a bit caught off-guard. Sungchan hadn’t even asked you if you liked his band’s performance. He’d commented on the fact that you’d showed up, who you were with, and that you left without seeing the other bands perform. But he never asked if you liked it.

“It was different for me,” you admitted. “Good different. I had fun.”

“Yeah, they’ve got a lot of heart, don’t they?” You could see the tug of Johnny’s smile at the corner of his mouth.

At the end of the appointment, Sungchan had one new tattoo and you were hungry. After paying Johnny and giving the artist your goodbyes, the two of you stepped back out onto the sidewalk in front of the tattoo parlor. It was dark out already, and you looked up at the moon, just past the streetlamp shining down on you.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Sungchan declared. “Dinner?”

“Sure,” you agreed. “But, I pick. I’ve already done my one new thing for today, and I’m craving fries.”

“Hard to argue with that.”

The place you had in mind was only a few blocks away from Johnny’s tattoo shop. As soon as you walked in, however, you wanted to turn back around. But you were craving fries and had already been spotted. Jeno perked up curiously from behind the counter, giving you a friendly wave. Honestly, you should’ve considered this as a possibility when you brought Sungchan into his place of work. You smiled back as you stepped up to the register.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted you brightly, clearly interested in who you had with you, but not outright asking as his gaze strayed over to Sungchan.

“Hey, Jeno,” you said. “I didn’t realize you were working tonight.”

“Coworker got sick, I picked up a shift,” he explained. “So what can I get you? Your usual?”

“Just the fries and milkshake.” You then pointed to Sungchan with your thumb. “And whatever he wants. I’m paying.”

“Y/N—” Sungchan was clearly about to argue.

“You got it last time. Kind of.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “And they take card here. So order.”

He held his hands up. “Alright, alright.”

Picking a table in the corner as far from the cash register as you could get, you waited for Jeno to call your order number out as usual. Except this time he brought the food right out to your table on a tray. You eyed him suspiciously as he walked over.

“Here’s your food,” he smiled brightly at the both of you, taking the food off the tray to set the individual items in front of you.

“Right, thanks, Jeno,” you said. When he was still standing there after he was done, you looked at him more pointedly, “I’m not tipping you again if that’s what you’re waiting for. Goodbye, Jeno.”

“Enjoy your meal!” He took off back behind the counter.

Sungchan watched him for a moment before turning back to his food. “He was at the show.”

“Yeah, he was.”

“Your sturdy friend.”

“Yup.” You grabbed your first fry.

“The show, that reminds me—” Sungchan stopped in the middle of his sentence, sandwich halfway up to his mouth. “Uh, I think your friend just took a picture of us.”

Your phone buzzed then, and you checked the notification from your lockscreen, letting out a deep sigh. “He definitely did.”

[jeno: attached image]

[jeno: ⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️]

“Hold on, sorry,” you apologized as you unlocked your phone to properly open the message.

As soon as you started typing a scathing text about privacy, another text came through.

[jeno: FUCK WRONG GROUP CHAT]

[you: wtf do you assholes have a gc without me in it??]

You looked over at the register, shooting Jeno a glare as he was very obviously trying not to look at you. His entire face, ears, and neck were visibly pink from the other side of the restaurant.

[jeno: it was to plan your surprise party last year!]

[jaem: Y/N ON A DATE CONFIRMED???????]

[renjunnie: jeno you’re an idiot]

[hyuck: wait jeno take another picture of his face im trying to see smth]

A large group of teenagers entered then, and Jeno had to quickly put his phone away to take their orders.

Sungchan had been quietly eating his food the whole time, and raised an eyebrow as you put your phone down with a groan. “Everything alright?”

“Sorry about that…” You let out another sigh. “So what you were saying? The show?”

“Oh, I’m glad you liked the set.” He looked almost self-conscious as he spoke, a small smile on his face as he ran a hand through his hair. “You hadn’t said anything about whether or not you actually liked the show, so I figured it might not have been your thing, you know? Or, you at least told Johnny you liked it…”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Didn’t want to seem like I was fishing for compliments.”

“I had fun,” you assured him, grabbing another fry. “I’m still surprised you could even see me. It was packed in there.”

“You were easy to spot,” he teased.

“You didn’t exactly give me a dress code.”

“If I did, would you have been able to dress for it?”

You pursed your lips as you thought for a moment, then relented, “…No.”

He shrugged off his jacket and offered you the garment. “Here, so you’ll blend in better next time.”

You accepted it, already giddy at the idea of a ‘next time.’ “Then how will you spot me?”

“I think I’ll manage.”

[jeno: attached image]

[jeno: no need to see his face, hyuck. its definitely the drummer from the basement]

[hyuck: fuckin knew it]

[jaem: are we SURE those are the same tattoos?? maybe y/n knows another guy with sleeves???]

[renjunnie: still the same gc, dumbasses]

[you: jeno don’t be a weirdo challenge FAILED]

[jeno: definitely the same guy, jaemin]

[you: im gonna get you fired lee jeno]

[jeno: my rent :( ]

[hyuck: y/n out here trying to SILENCE independent investigative journalists and whistleblowers i see 🫵]

[you: OR i was trying to eat in peace and meanwhile you guys are having your weekly ‘being the most obnoxious guy ever’ competition and somehow jeno is winning this time]

[jeno: :(( ]

[jaem: you were on a DATE with drummer guy and didnt tell us???]

[you: omfg because it wasn’t a date? im allowed to hang out with people who aren’t you four]

[jaem: no youre not?]

[hyuck: since when?]

[renjunnie: and since when do you know people who aren’t us lmao]

[you: im gonna block all of you]

[jeno: :'( ]

Thursday night and you were back in the basement. This time you didn’t bring any of your friends, not wanting to subject them to an experience that they clearly hadn’t enjoyed last time, and also to save yourself from having to explain why exactly you were back in the basement again and wearing Sungchan’s leather jacket. Due to the oppressive body heat around you, you just had it draped over your shoulders, but made sure to grab either side and hold it tight to not lose it as you maneuvered through the crowd. You unfortunately barely had time to run home and grab the jacket on your way here, as your boss kept your whole team late after hours today working on an urgent deadline. You were still wearing your work clothes; you didn’t trust yourself to change quickly without freaking out over what to wear and ending up missing Sungchan’s short set.

Just as you had wormed your way into a good enough spot towards the front and near the drumset, the band walked out from the adjoining room, waving to everyone. It was easy to spot Sungchan, not only because he was the tallest, but because he wasn’t even wearing a shirt this time, as opposed to the others, who were all wearing a tank top or t-shirt of some sort. His gaze was very clearly searching the crowd for something, and stopped as soon as it landed on you. You gave him a small wave, and he smiled back as he headed to his spot.

You weren’t sure if they had set up the speakers differently this time, if your ears were just used to the volume now, or if you were positioned better than before, but you could actually understand what the frontman was saying as he introduced the band.

“Hey! How is everyone?” His voice was cheerful, and you couldn’t help but laugh as the crowd cheered back. “First, uh, big thanks as always to our buddy Anton for having us. Second, if you don’t know us, that’s fine, nobody does.”

Everyone let out a unanimous round of chuckles, and the frontman was smiling too.

“Anyway, we are Roses for Eyes. I’m Shotaro, that’s Wonbin—” He pointed to the other guitarist, then the bassist, “—That’s Eunseok over there—” and finally Sungchan, “—And we’ve got Sungchan on the drums. And we’re supposed to be performing for you guys, not reading you our non-existent Wikipedia page. Here’s the first one, ‘Lonely as Mars,’ hope you all like it.”

From the first kick of the bass drum, you couldn’t take your eyes off Sungchan. The music reverberated through your chest, and this time you could hear their voices, and the words they were singing. They were good, you decided, and you liked it. But your focus never left the drummer. He had the same relaxed, easy-going smirk on his face as the last time he played, arms flexing with each hit of his sticks.

The set simultaneously felt like ten years and ten seconds. It was a blur, and before you knew it, Shotaro was once again speaking into the mic to give the crowd another thank you and goodnight. He, Eunseok, and Wonbin took their instruments with them. Sungchan tucked his drumsticks into the back pocket of his jeans as he stood up and followed his bandmates. With no friends urging you to leave, and what certainly seemed like an infinitely long list of reasons to stick around, you stayed put exactly where you were. Exactly where Sungchan knew you were.

The next band had just come out when you felt a hand grab your arm. Turning around, you knew who exactly that hand would belong to. Sungchan had found a shirt somewhere between performing and now, a tank top that didn’t cover much more than before. And despite him having just been performing a few moments ago, nobody in the crowd seemed to notice him, all their focus on the next act.

“You did good!” You had to shout over the music of the band currently performing.

He bent down to talk right into your ear. “It’s loud over here.”

You let him guide you to a corner further back from the crowd with an arm around your shoulders. There were a few other people back there, either smoking, making out, or both. You rested your back against the wall, looking up at Sungchan, who leaned over you with his hand on the wall next to your head. You opened your mouth, about to repeat what you had said out on the floor.

“Fuck, you look so hot in my jacket,” Sungchan groaned, sufficiently wiping all previous trains of thought from your brain. His fingers messed with the zipper teeth of one side, eyes scanning your whole frame.

“I feel a bit silly wearing it with the pantsuit, but I got hung up at work and didn’t want to be late…” You trailed off, noticing that his gaze was definitely now on your mouth. Tilting your head, you asked teasingly, “Sungchan, are you flirting with me?”

“Have been for like three weeks now, thanks for noticing.”

“Unfortunately, we can’t count this as my something new. I’ve been to one of your sets before, at this exact basement,” you sighed wistfully, latching onto his free arm and pulling him even closer to you.

“Mm, good point.” His hand grabbed your waist. “I think we can come up with something to do tonight that you haven’t done before.”

“I think I’ve got one.”

“Oh, here I thought I was the ideas guy?”

You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, pulling his mouth down to yours. Sungchan let out another low sound against your lips, grip on your waist tightening as he pushed you back into the wall as hard as you were pulling him down with you. He dropped from leaning on his hand to his forearm, caging you in closer. Your hand that wasn’t tangled in his hair was shamelessly feeling up the muscles of his arm and shoulder. When he softly sank his teeth into your bottom lip, you couldn’t help but dig your fingernails into his tricep in surprise, pushing your hips up against his insistently.

“Fuck, Sungchan,” you panted against his mouth when he pulled back for a brief moment of air, his thigh now wedged between yours.

“God, you’re so—” He pressed his lips to yours again, hand at the small of your back to pull you as close to him as possible. If you thought you were warm before packed in the crowd, you were in a stifling heat now, pinned between Sungchan’s body and the wall. He broke the kiss, asking between deep breaths, “Can—Can I take you home?”

“What about the other bands?” You giggled, lips ghosting over his as you spoke.

“Fuck the other bands,” he replied immediately. “As soon I saw you out in the crowd wearing my jacket, could barely focus on the set because you looked so good.”

“Yes, Sungchan.” You kissed him again. “You can take me home.”

As soon as Sungchan’s front door was shut, he had you pressed up against it again. You pulled at his flimsy tank top as his tongue slipped past your lips. Finally, he gave in to your persistent hands and let you pull it off him.

“Honestly, don’t even know why you bother with shirts at this point,” you scoffed, throwing it off towards the side somewhere.

“With how much I’ve spent on tattoos? I agree,” he chuckled, cupping your cheek to pull your mouth to his again.

Still attached to each other, you’d only succeeded at getting Sungchan’s belt unbuckled by the time you made it to his bedroom. Before you could unbutton his pants, however, he stepped back from you, familiar teasing glint in his eyes.

“Well this isn’t very fair, don’t you think?” He gestured between his half-dressed state and your fully dressed self.

“I thought you liked me in your jacket?” You taunted, wrapping the garment tighter around yourself.

“Which is why you’ve got to let me take it off you.” He put his hands together in a pleading motion. “And the pantsuit…”

“Mm, alright.” You dropped your hands from the jacket.

He circled behind you, hovering close to remove his leather jacket from your shoulders, pressing kisses to your neck as he did so. With him no longer blocking the rest of his bedroom from your view, you couldn’t help but be a little surprised at the presence of one thing.

“You know, I was mentally prepared for you to not have a bedframe,” you commented as he took off your blazer next.

“You got mattress-on-the-ground vibes from me and still came home with me?” Sungchan asked incredulously, letting out a breathy laugh. His deft fingers started unbuttoning your blouse next. “I think I’m flattered? And you’ve got to raise your standards.”

You turned around to face him, feeling the smirk on your face as you replied, “Let’s see how high we can raise those standards, hm?”

“Is that a challenge or what?” Sungchan laughed again, wasting no time in attaching his lips and teeth to your neck, dropping your blouse off your shoulders and to the floor.

When the garish blaring of your work alarm came, you reached over to the right to blindly grab your phone off your nightstand. Instead, your hand hit what felt like someone’s face, and you jolted up in bed as they did as well, already swearing.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Sungchan was holding his eye. “What the hell was that for? That’s not my alarm.”

Blinking a couple times to orient yourself first, you then jerked over to grab your phone off the floor on your left side. Sungchan may have had a bedframe, but he did only have one nightstand. You quickly turned off your alarm and fell back onto the mattress. You weren’t going to be able to go back to sleep, having been sufficiently scared awake, but you needed a second to catch your breath.

“Work alarm…” You explained belatedly, in case that wasn’t apparent.

Sungchan made a grunt of acknowledgement, dropping his hand from his face as he laid back down as well. He rolled over towards you, slinging an arm around your waist and burying his face in your shoulder. You stared up at his ceiling, feeling his warm breaths washing over the skin of your arm.

“Mars isn’t lonely,” you blurted out into his still-dark room.

“What?” He mumbled into your shoulder.

“It’s got two moons.”

Sungchan shifted around, propping his head up with his other hand to be able to talk. “Yes… Phobos and Deimos. Named for the Greek gods of fear and dread, respectively.”

“So to be lonely as Mars… with fear and dread as your only companions.”

“That was the idea, when we wrote it.” He brushed hair back from your face. “Don’t tell me the title of one of our songs kept you up all night.”

“No, was just kind of in the back of my mind.” You felt a sudden prickling along your skin as his hand fell to your arm, fingers playing with the sleeve hem of the t-shirt you were wearing—his. Sitting up out of his grasp, you pushed the covers off of you. “I have to get ready for work.”

Sungchan wordlessly watched you gather up your clothes from the floor and get dressed. When you went into the adjoining bathroom to check the tuck of your shirt into your pants and make other adjustments, he followed, leaning in the doorway with a troubled look on his face.

“Am I just something new, Y/N?” He asked bluntly, arms crossed over his chest.

“Am I just entertainment?” You immediately fired back, trying to smooth out a wrinkle that your blouse had acquired from sitting crumpled on the floor all night.

“What? Why would you think that?” He seemed genuinely confused.

“‘I don’t care. I just want to be along for the ride.’” You paraphrased what he said when he agreed to help you with your plan. “Am I just entertainment?”

His features softened. “No, you’re not entertainment.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, shoulders falling as they lost the tension they’d just held. “No, Sungchan, you’re not just something new.”

He walked over to you with a wide grin on his face, cupping your cheek and pressing his lips to yours. You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss too, giving him one more peck before turning back to fixing your attire in the mirror. There was nothing you could do right now about the wrinkles, but you could at least attempt something with your hair.

Sungchan stepped behind you, resting his hands on your hips and pulling you back into him. He placed a few lazy kisses along your neck, murmuring, “I think the pantsuit is growing on me, actually.”

“Then why are you trying to take it off me?” You questioned, grabbing his hand that had been reaching for your blouse buttons again.

“Because I like what’s under it better.”

“Nice try. I have work.” You spun out of his arms, heading for his bedroom door.

Two steps into the hall, you knew something was wrong. There were other voices in Sungchan’s apartment, which stopped when they saw you. As soon as your eyes registered the three men in the living room, you skittered backwards back into Sungchan’s room again.

Practically slamming his door closed behind you, you didn’t let him get whatever surprised statement he had out of his mouth, as you hissed, “Sungchan! Why is your whole fucking band out there?”

“Probably because your work alarm woke them up too,” he laughed, which turned into a yawn as he stretched his arms over his head. “They’re not really early birds…”

“Why are they here?”

“They live here?”

In your rush to get into Sungchan’s bedroom last night, you had somehow missed any signs of three other people living here. You didn’t even hear them come home last night, and you weren’t exactly… quiet yourself. Definitely not three roommates quiet.

“Oh my god…” You sunk down against the door, shaking your head. “I’m just going to stay in here and die, I think.”

“I thought you had work?” Sungchan pointed out smugly.

“Ugh…” You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

“Y/N, they’ve already seen you. Here, I’ll walk you out. Will that help?” He offered, pulling on a shirt and his leather jacket.

“Fine, I’m gonna be late if I stay any longer.”

He held a hand out to you, and you placed yours in it for him to pull you to your feet. “Let’s go.”

The chatter that had started up again in your absence died down as soon as the bedroom door opened. Sure enough, the other three members of Roses for Eyes were sprawled out across the living room exactly where you’d left them. Shotaro was sideways in an armchair, Switch in hand as his thumbs moved over the controls quickly. Eunseok was sleepily eating a bowl of cereal on the couch, while Wonbin didn’t actually look awake, slumped against Eunseok’s shoulder with his eyes closed.

“Morning, guys,” Sungchan nodded to them as you walked by, still ushering you to the door.

Eunseok wordlessly held his hand out palm-up towards the armchair, and you saw Shotaro smack a few bills down into it.

At the front door, you were just ready to leave. Patting Sungchan’s arm, you gave him a nod and hushed, “Bye.”

Turning to grab the door handle, you heard Sungchan’s voice, nowhere near the whisper yours was.

“Baby, you almost forgot—” Sungchan stopped you, grabbing your hand and spinning you back around.

The sudden pet name made your skin burn. “What is it, Sungchan? My phone?” You started patting your pockets.

He took off the leather jacket that he just put on, putting it squarely on your shoulders. “Oh, and—” He cradled your face with two hands, kissing you.

It was short, sweet, and made your knees feel like jelly. When he’d pulled away, still holding your face, you whispered in the small space between you, “I’m going to be late.”

“Have a good day at work.” He smiled, letting you go and opening the door for you.

With a sigh, Eunseok gave the money back to Shotaro.

You weren’t late that morning, thankfully, but your mind was still in the stratosphere as you bustled around the breakroom making yourself coffee. You’d left Sungchan’s jacket hanging off the back of your chair; it wasn’t exactly in dress code for your office.

“Morning, Y/N,” Renjun said through a yawn, shuffling into the breakroom as well. He paused as he seemed to be taking in your clothes. “Am I crazy or did you wear that yesterday?”

“The only thing worse than an outfit repeater is an outfit remember-er,” you jested back.

“No, I mean like…” He got closer, rubbing his eyes as he peered at your blouse. “You didn’t wash them. They’re all wrinkled and—You got laid.”

“Or I need to do laundry.”

He pointed to your neck. “Hickey.”

“Damn, you caught me breaking my undying vow of chastity—oh wait,” you retorted sarcastically.

He held his hands up. “Hey, no slut-shaming here. Love that for you. One question?”

“What?”

“Was it drummer guy?”

You looked around the breakroom as you stirred sugar into your coffee. “…Yes.”

Renjun chuckled and grabbed a coffee mug. “Something new every day…”

“Why can’t you just get the food delivered?” You complained, pulling Sungchan’s blankets tighter around you as the bed grew cold without him in there with you.

He hopped on one foot as he pulled a shoe on. “Because the delivery charge is as much as the food is, baby. And it’s just around the block.”

You huffed dramatically, watching him start searching the sheets for his phone. He secured it in his hand victoriously, tucking it in his back pocket.

“You could come with me, you know,” he pointed out, mischievous hands already reaching for the covers and pulling them down, revealing your bare legs to the cold air conditioning. “But you’d have to put pants on.”

You yanked the blankets back over you. “I’ll wait.”

He snickered, leaning down to press his lips to yours. “Be back in a few.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sighed, kissing him again.

He dropped one more peck to your forehead before standing up straight and heading out, shutting his door behind him. You snuggled back under the covers, pulling the blanket up over your shoulders as you tried to enjoy the fleeting warmth left over as you scrolled on your phone. Sungchan had only been gone for a few minutes when you heard the front door open again. You perked up with interest. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d be back soon. Then there were a couple light knocks on the bedroom door. Not Sungchan. One of his bandmates must have come home.

You scrambled to throw the sheets off you and grab a pair of your shorts from Sungchan’s floor, putting your legs through them as you stumbled towards the door. Opening it just enough to peer out, you saw Wonbin on the other side, a plastic grocery bag in his hand. He didn’t seem surprised to see you at all.

“…Hi?” You greeted him hesitantly. You had been seeing Sungchan for a couple weeks now, and had caught glimpses of his roommates around his apartment, but had yet to say much more than the occasional ‘morning’ or ‘night’ or ‘hey’ in passing.

Wonbin held up the plastic bag. “Can you help me dye my hair?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” You looked down at what you were wearing, one of Sungchan’s black t-shirts. “What color? Should I change? Like, is it bleach?”

“Black. That’s fine.” He turned around, walking back down the hall.

You followed him as he opened another one of the doors, this one leading to a bathroom. As he prepped the dye, you read the pamphlet of instructions carefully.

“I’ll do the mixing,” he interrupted your deep focus. “I just can’t see the back of my head.”

“Oh. Okay.” You set the directions down on the counter next to the bottles. “I’ve never done this before… Don’t want to ruin your hair.”

He shrugged, handing you a pair of gloves. “If you miss a spot, we’ll just do it again.”

After Wonbin mixed up the dye, he sat on the edge of the tub for you to stand over him and start applying it to his hair. As you worked the dark dye into his blonde hair, you watched his soft waves straighten out.

“I liked the blonde curls,” you commented, moving onto the next section.

“Me too.” He flicked through his music library on his phone. “Time for something new, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” you smiled to yourself, adding more dye.

“What music do you like?”

“Oh, put on whatever you want. I’m trying to broaden my horizons.”

He wordlessly selected a song, a soft guitar melody coming through the speakers. It was so different from the music that you’d heard them perform, your hands slowed as you listened thoughtfully.

“Is that why you’re dating Sungchan?” Wonbin’s question caught you off-guard.

“What?” You parted his hair, double-checking that you had gotten every bit of blonde in that section.

“You’re broadening your horizons.” He picked at his nail polish that was already chipped. “Is that why you’re dating Sungchan?”

“Something like that.” Satisfied that you had fully saturated that area, you went to the next one. “I also just like him.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Why? Because we’re so different?”

“No, because he’s lame.”

You laughed right as you had started squeezing more dye out, missing his head as the liquid dripped right down the back of his neck instead. Wonbin hissed in surprise, shoulders jumping.

“Oh! Sorry!” You were still laughing as you grabbed the end of the towel that was around his shoulders, wiping at the stray hair dye.

Shotaro came home soon after that, joining the two of you in the bathroom, hopping up on the bathroom counter to watch you apply the hair dye. He showed off his new nose ring that he just got, and tsked when he saw Wonbin’s chipped nail polish.

“We’re gonna have to redo that, Wonbin,” the frontman shook his head. “After Y/N’s done with your hair.”

“Once it’s applied, it’s got to sit for thirty minutes,” you recalled the instructions. “Will that be long enough?”

“Plenty.”

You were a little more than halfway done with Wonbin’s hair when Sungchan finally got back.

“Wonbin? Taro? You guys here?” He called out into the apartment. “Y/N’s here too by the—”

He’d poked his head into the bathroom then, brown paper bag of food in hand. You gave him a wave with your hair dye-covered, gloved hand.

“Hi, Sungchan,” you smiled. “That was more than a few minutes.”

“Clearly,” he gestured to the scene in front of him. “I leave you for like twelve minutes and my bandmates adopt you.”

“We can eat once I finish applying Wonbin’s hair dye.”

“Sure.”

“What’d you get?” Shotaro leaned over towards the bag with interest.

“Only four extra crab rangoons. Fight over them however you want.” Sungchan pulled out a smaller bag from within the takeout bag.

Wonbin and Shotaro locked eyes.

“None for Eunseok?” Shotaro proposed.

Wonbin nodded minutely, as much as he could with some of his hair still in your hands. The front door slammed closed then, and they both groaned.

“I smell chemicals!” Eunseok yelled out. “What is it this time, Wonbin? Purple? Red? Both?”

The bassist appeared in the doorway behind Sungchan, peeking over his shoulder at everyone. “Oh hey, Y/N.”

“Hi, Eunseok.” You nodded to him, applying more dye.

“Shotaro, are those crab rangoons you’re hiding behind your back?”

A random Sunday afternoon found you at Sungchan’s apartment, as you seemed to be most days now. If you weren’t at work, at one of his gigs, or with your own friends, it was a safe bet that you could be found there.

He opened the door for you, pecking your cheek in greeting, “Hi, baby.”

“I know what we’re doing today,” you blurted out, before you could lose your nerve. “My something new.”

He tilted his head curiously. “And? What is it?”

You took a deep breath. “I’m going to get my ears pierced. Second lobe piercings, I already have the first done. I’ve been wanting to do it for like forever, but I just… haven’t. It’s allowed at my work, I checked the employee handbook, and asked someone from HR on Friday to be extra sure.”

Sungchan beamed at you. “Hell yeah. We can use Shotaro’s piercer, unless you’ve already looked someone up?”

“Whoever Shotaro goes to will be fine.”

Wonbin was taking a nap on the couch in the afternoon sunlight, and you walked past him to get to the hall where Shotaro and Eunseok’s rooms were. Shotaro’s door was ajar already, and Sungchan pushed it open the rest of the way. The frontman was laid out on his bed upside down, his feet kicked up on the wall as he lazily plucked out a melody on an acoustic guitar. Eunseok was in there too, scrawling away at a notebook at the guitarist’s desk.

“Who do you go to for your piercings?” Sungchan didn’t give either of them so much as a hello.

Shotaro craned his neck to look over at the two of you. “Huh? Oh, uh, Sid, at Black Cat in downtown. Why? What are you getting?”

“Not for me,” Sungchan informed him happily, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

Eunseok’s head snapped up from where he had been focused on his notebook, and Shotaro set his instrument aside to roll over and fully face you.

“Y/N?!” Shotaro’s jaw dropped in delight. “What are you getting?”

“Ah, just my second lobes…” you muttered self-consciously, hands instinctively feeling at the jewelry that you already had in your existing piercings. You pushed further into Sungchan’s side to hide your face from them, especially when the bassist muttered a ‘woah’ at this revelation.

“Sid taking walk-ins today?” Sungchan asked.

“She should be. You know what? I’ll call her right now.” Shotaro eagerly brought out his phone.

After he confirmed that Sid was, in fact, taking walk-ins, Sungchan went to get changed as Eunseok and Shotaro put shoes on as well, ushering you towards the front door. All the commotion woke Wonbin up, as he sleepily lifted his head up and rubbed one of his eyes, watching the four of you.

“Where are you guys going?” Wonbin squinted against the sun.

“Y/N’s getting pierced!” Shotaro announced brightly.

“I’m coming.”

At Black Cat, which you learned was a tattoo and piercing shop, you met with Sid, a young woman who was no older than you, and told her what you wanted. She nodded, looking at your ears for just a second.

“Easy. How old were you when you got the first ones done?” She asked, pulling out a tray of jewelry from under the counter she was standing behind.

“Thirteen maybe? I know it was done with one of those piercing guns…” You admitted sheepishly.

“We don’t use those here.” She shook her head. “Injures the tissue too much. I’ll be using a needle, should take like half a second on each side. I’ll explain everything back at the station where I can show you all the tools.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ll give you a minute to pick your jewelry while I prep the station.” With that, she walked towards the back of the shop.

Everyone huddled around while you browsed through the options, seeming to have their own input. You finally settled on a pair of studs with small diamonds in them, not too outlandish; you’d be able to easily match them with the rest of your jewelry and any outfits you wore to work easily while the piercings healed.

“You nervous?” Sungchan murmured, rubbing your back as Shotaro and Wonbin wandered over towards the other end of the clear case of jewelry, looking at industrial piercings. Eunseok flipped through a book of flash tattoo options.

You shook your head. “No. Excited.”

“So you’re not gonna need to hold my hand?”

“I didn’t say that…”

As Sid walked back over, the others crowded around you excitedly again.

“Do you all really need to be here? It’s not that big of a deal…” You muttered, a bit embarrassed at how hyped they were over you just getting a couple ear piercings.

“I’m with Y/N on this one. Only you can come back.” She pointed at Sungchan. “The rest of you will have to wait up front.”

Sitting on the padded chair at Sid’s station, she walked you through each step and the tools she’d be using first, then marked where the piercings would go on your ears.

“Check the placement.” She handed you a handheld mirror.

You appraised them, then looked up at Sungchan. “What do you think? Even?”

“Sit up straight. And straighten out your shoulders, did you know you slouch?” He teased, grabbing your shoulders and straightening them out for you.

You glared up at him, but fixed your posture nevertheless.

“They look good, baby,” he approved, squeezing your arm.

Sungchan stood off to your side, holding your hand as Sid got ready on the on the first ear.

“Alright. One, two—” At the pinch, you squeezed Sungchan’s hand tighter, face screwing up in surprise.

She moved to the other side. “Next. One, two—” Pinch. “All done.”

“Wooh!” The other three cheered from up front, pumping their fists and jumping up and down.

“Fuck yeah, Y/N!” Eunseok yelled out.

“Baby’s first body mod!” Shotaro pretended to wipe a tear from under his eye. “They grow up so fast…”

“So pretty, baby,” Sungchan kissed your cheek, a wide grin on his face when he pulled back. He wiped at the single actual tear that had spilled over from your own eye. “So proud of you.”

Your face hurt from how much you were smiling, more than your ears did.

“Y/N!” Jaemin stood up from the table as soon as he saw you, pulling you in for a hug. The two of you were meeting up on your respective lunch breaks at a café equidistant from your workplaces.

“Hi Jaem—Ow!” You hissed as his head bumped into your ear.

“What? What’s wrong?” He pulled back, clearly worried.

“It’s nothing, sorry.” You cradled the wounded ear, giving him a reassuring smile. “I finally got my second lobes done the other day and they’re still tender.”

“Let me see!”

You tucked your hair behind your ears to show off the small diamonds. “Just some studs…”

“Cool. They look good.” He was still smiling as the two of you sat down. “What made you want to do that?”

“I’ve been talking about it for a while.”

“Yeah, I know. What made you finally get them?”

“Something spontaneous or new every day, remember?”

“Well, I’m happy you finally did it. Seems your little quarter life crisis is actually working, huh?”

“Sungchan’s been helping me,” you acknowledged, watching his face carefully.

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “The drummer guy?”

“Yeah, I’ve been seeing him...” You sat forward, lacing your hands together in front of you on the table. “Speaking of—Dinner tomorrow, I figured I could bring him? You guys could all meet?”

Jaemin rubbed the back of his neck, tone turning remorseful. “Damn, Y/N, I wish you’d told me sooner. I already made the reservation for five people.”

“You can’t call back and change it to six?”

“Limited space.”

“There’s not a lot of five-person tables. Wouldn’t they be putting us at one that seats six anyway?”

“If I change it, we’ll be bumped to the bottom of the list again.”

“Oh. That’s alright, another time,” you acquiesced as your waiter came over, handing you menus.

“Another time,” your friend agreed.

You were in the ‘green room’ of Anton’s basement, which was actually the laundry alcove that had a few chairs set up for the acts to sit and wait before they went on. All of Roses for Eyes were back there, chatting as the time for their set to start got closer.

“You know what I’m craving?” Sungchan hummed in your ear.

“What is that?” You turned to look at him out of the corner of your vision from your current position on his lap.

“Fries from that place where your sturdy friend works.”

“He has a name,” you laughed, pinching his forearm. “Do you want to go get some after this? They’re open late.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“After the day I had at work, I’ve earned a milkshake,” you sighed, leaning back against him.

Sungchan wrapped his arms around your waist, and you could hear the frown in his voice as he asked, “What happened, baby?”

“You’re about to go on, I’ll tell you later,” you promised. “Just my boss—”

“Yo! Roses!” Anton poked his head into the room just then. “Two minutes! Let’s go!”

You got up from Sungchan’s lap as the others started grabbing their instruments. “I should go grab a spot.”

“Okay…” He cupped your cheek to bring your mouth to his. “See you in a minute, baby.”

“See you.”

You picked your way through the crowd until you found a group of familiar faces: Anton, and two more regulars and friends of Roses for Eyes, Sohee and Seunghan. When the band still hadn’t come out after a few minutes, you got on your tiptoes to look over the crowd towards the green room.

“Wonder what’s keeping them?” You mused, dropping back onto flat feet again.

“Oh, Jay and Hayoung popped in there right after you left,” Anton explained. “Said they wanted to talk to them.”

“I thought they already left,” Seunghan commented.

“No, their tour starts in a couple weeks, I think,” Sohee explained. “Or at least, the tickets I have aren’t until next month.”

“Is that for the Venue:Hell show?”

“Yeah, are you going?”

“Waiting to get paid then I’ll buy my ticket.”

“Anton and I have an extra,” Sohee offered. “He was going to bring that girl he was seeing, but we all know how that worked out.”

“No need to rub it in my face,” Anton grumbled as the other two simultaneously snickered and tried to comfort him. He then turned to you. “Where’d Sungchan find you, anyway?”

“Oh, uh, I got lost and asked him for directions at the bookstore he works at,” you answered, knowing that wasn’t going to help your friend very much.

“You’re useless to me.”

You laughed and patted his back. “I’m sorry, Anton. Maybe instead of trying to find someone the same way Sungchan and I met, you should just try meeting different people. Sungchan could tell that I wasn’t into this kind of stuff at all when we met, and still tried anyway.”

“Alright, got any pantsuit-wearing friends you can set me up with?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

It was then that Roses for Eyes finally started walking out, Sungchan at the front. They seemed to be even more energetic than usual during their set, and you could feel it radiate out through the whole room. You couldn’t stop jumping, dancing, and singing along to the songs that you had finally learned the lyrics to.

When they were done, Shotaro gave their usual thank-you and goodbye before leaving. By the time the next act was starting their first song, Roses for Eyes had joined the rest of you in the crowd.

“You guys did so good!” You praised them, squeezing Shotaro’s forearm as you wrapped your other arm around Sungchan’s waist. “Like, I think that was like the best set I’ve ever seen!”

“Thanks, baby,” Sungchan laughed breathlessly, kissing your temple and pulling you even closer with an arm around your shoulders. “You looked like you were having a good time.”

“She’s right, you guys had a lot of energy up there,” Seunghan complimented them as well.

“What did Hayoung and Jay want, by the way?” Anton asked. “They kept you guys for a while.”

The band exchanged uncertain looks, Eunseok, Wonbin, and Shotaro looking to Sungchan as if waiting for his cue.

He shrugged and squeezed your shoulder. “Just dropping by before they go on tour, you know?”

The rest of Roses for Eyes declined accompanying you and Sungchan for your midnight snack, so it was just the two of you squished into the same side of a booth, Sungchan taking sips from your milkshake as you stole fries from his plate.

“Tell me about work,” he prompted you, nudging your leg with his.

“Oh, God, it was just… long,” you groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “Felt like it would never end. My boss put off starting his part of this project until literally the day before our deadline to send it to the VP, which meant I had to rush to finalize everything. Meanwhile, he was breathing down my neck the whole time about the deadline! Like! Dude, I fucking know! We wouldn’t be cutting it so close if he had done his part earlier!”

“That’s really inconsiderate.” Sungchan frowned, rubbing your back. “I’m sorry, baby, that sounds really stressful.”

“But we got it submitted, so that’s all that matters, I guess,” you sighed. “You were right, Sungchan. I hate my job.”

His hand stilled on your back, just resting there as you sat in the wake of your admission.

“You remember my friends from the food truck?” He asked, abruptly changing topics.

“Yeah, Jay and Hayoung.”

“Well, we actually got an offer to open for their band on tour,” he told you, voice pitching up with excitement. That must’ve been what they were discussing before their set tonight. “It’ll be for a couple months.”

“Oh… congrats. I know this is big for you guys. Have fun.” You smiled, trying to hide the sudden emptiness inside you as you tried to imagine what your days would look like without Sungchan or the rest of his bandmates for two whole months. “When do you leave?”

“Next Saturday. Their original opener dropped out, it was last-minute.”

“Oh. I’ll see you when you get back, then.” You then paused, your mind suddenly changing directions and racing with other thoughts of why he might want to be telling you this. He was a drummer in a band going on their first tour, maybe he’d want the full rockstar experience. “Unless this was something else…”

His eyes widened as he shook his head fervently. “I’m not—I mean, I won’t ask you to wait for me if you want to get on with your life while I’m gone, but I would wait for you.”

“Why not?” You furrowed your brow thoughtfully.

“What?”

“Why wouldn’t you ask me to wait for you? You want me to ask you to wait, but you won’t ask me.”

“Because I’m about to ask you for something even bigger than to wait two months for me to come back.” He grabbed your hand, holding it tight.

“What…?”

“Come with me.”

“What?!” You blinked, for a moment unsure that you had even heard him right.

“On tour. Come with me,” he repeated, as sincere, eager, and genuine as he was in everything.

You immediately stammered out, “Sungchan, I’d have to quit my job—”

“And then when we get back, you can find one that you actually like.”

“If I can even get one.”

“This is exactly what you’ve been trying to do, Y/N. Something new every day.” He was sandwiching your hand between both of his now. “Please, just think about it?”

“Alright, what are you moping about?” Renjun asked, pushing an already-opened beer into your hand as he walked by.

The five of you were over at Jeno and Jaemin’s place for a movie, pizza, and beer night, and the first movie hadn’t even been started yet. As usual, you were an open book to your friends.

“Sungchan’s band is going on tour. For two months,” you told them glumly before bringing the bottle to your lips. “They leave Saturday.”

“They have enough fans to do that?” Donghyuck snorted, picking up a slice of pizza.

“They’re opening for another band.”

“Aw, I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Y/N,” Jaemin went to comfort you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

You tapped a fingernail against the glass bottle in your hands. “He asked me to go with him.”

“Does he think you can just quit your job for two months and come back and your boss will rehire you?” Renjun retorted. “This guy lives another world, sounds like you dodged a bullet.”

“You’re considering it.” Donghyuck pointed at you knowingly. “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have brought up that he asked you until after he was long gone.”

You were quiet, looking down at your slice of pizza.

“Are you?” Jeno asked.

“I mean, I’ve been trying to do something different every day—”

“Woahwoahwoah! Seriously?!” Renjun cut you off, waving his hands wildly.

“I have enough in my savings to cover my rent and stuff while I’m gone, plus a few months after I get back while I look for a new job—”

“Holy shit you’re like, serious about this,” Jeno breathed out, blinking in surprise.

Jaemin took over, “When we joked about you having a quarter life crisis, we didn’t mean for you to actually do something like quit your job and go run off to join your punk boyfriend that you barely know on his dirtbag boyband’s tour for months.”

“We kind of figured you seeing this guy was already pushing your limits…” Renjun added.

“Gee, thanks.” You rolled your eyes. “You thought I was—What? Getting it out of my system? Then I’d settle down with a guy who’s as boring as I am?”

“When you phrase it like that—”

“You guys don’t even know Sungchan.” You cut Jaemin off, getting to your feet to face them all as your skin pricked with anger.

“Do you? You’ve been seeing him for like a month.” Jaemin gestured to you pointedly.

“Three. But thanks for proving my point so well,” you snapped. “You haven’t even tried to get to know him! You don’t like his music, fine, I wouldn’t expect you to go back to a show. But you haven’t invited him anywhere and you somehow always have an excuse when I invite you guys to something with him. None of you have even really met him. Not even Jeno from that one time, so don’t try to start that.”

They all seemed to be at a loss for words, looking at each other as if waiting for someone else to say the right thing.

“Y/N, come on…” Jaemin tried again, but trailed off at your furious glare.

“I’m going,” you declared, grabbing your phone from the coffee table. “Unless any of you plan on getting your heads out of your asses in the next five seconds.”

They were quiet again, and you took that as your answer, storming out of the apartment.

“Oh hey.” Eunseok’s face held mild surprise when he opened the door for you. “Sungchan said you weren’t coming over today.”

“Is he here?” You were still agitated from what just happened with your friends.

“In his room.” The bassist stepped back to let you in.

You passed by Wonbin and Shotaro in the living room, a game paused on their TV. They gave you greetings as you walked by, and you tossed a hello back over your shoulder. Sungchan’s door opened before you even got to it, confusion on his features when he saw you there.

“Hey, I thought I heard your voice.” He watched you as you stomped past him into his room. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, baby, but I thought you were hanging out with your friends tonight. What are you doing here?”

“I’m pissed at them.”

“What happened?” He sat down on his bed as you paced angrily in front of him.

“I was trying to tell them about the tour.” You gestured between the two of you. “You know, bouncing ideas off them or whatever. My mind was pretty much made up, I just needed to talk it through. And they couldn’t even be happy for you, or actually listen to me! They just called you a dirtbag and patronized me like a dumb child. Apparently, they’ve just been waiting for me to dump you and settle down with some boring guy that’s better for someone boring like me! They’ve been refusing to meet you, I mean, I can’t believe they think they somehow know anything about if you’re good for me or not.”

Sungchan had been listening patiently while you ranted, and when it seemed like you had come to a stopping point, he asked, “They really said all that?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Pretty much?” He repeated knowingly.

You put your hands on your hips. “They called you guys a dirtbag boyband. And said I was ‘pushing my limits’ by seeing you.”

“‘Dirtbag boyband,’” Sungchan repeated with a laugh. “Yeah, I like that.”

“Of course you think it’s funny.”

“That part? Yeah, I do,” he snickered, holding a hand out towards you. When you had reluctantly put yours in it, he pulled you closer, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “The part where they’re being super judgmental and treating you like you can’t make your own decisions? No, I don’t think that’s funny.”

You took a deep breath, already beginning to calm down a little as he continued working soothing circles into your skin.

“You said your mind was made up? Mostly?” Sungchan asked tentatively, eyes focused on your intertwined hands.

“I want to go with you,” you said, watching his head snap up to look at you, his face hopeful. “On the tour. I fucking hate my job and I love you.”

Sungchan’s eyes went wide as he gazed up at you. Then he was yanking you down into his arms, and you let out an embarrassing ‘eep!’ as you threw your arms around his shoulders, trying to find some stability in your sudden change in orientation. He held you tightly, burying his face in your neck. You could feel his smile against your skin.

“I love you too,” he murmured, pulling back to cup your cheek. He was grinning. “I love you.”

Your skin got warmer as you realized exactly what you’d said, but you couldn’t take it back now. You’d said it, you meant it, it was true, and you wanted to say it again.

“I love you.” You repeated, feeling a smile creep across your face.

Sungchan leaned up to kiss you, cradling the back of your head as he pressed his lips to yours. You kissed him back, tangling your fingers in his hair as you pressed even closer to him.

Your phone started buzzing relentlessly in your back pocket then, and you let out an annoyed groan into Sungchan’s mouth. You broke apart just enough to pull out your phone and look at the screen, fully intending on declining the call. Then you saw the caller ID and paused.

“Who is it?” Sungchan asked, kissing along your jaw.

“Jeno.” You continued staring at the screen.

He drew back. “You should answer it.”

“Sungchan—”

“Just see what he wants. Might be important.”

You sighed, and hit the accept button. “What?”

“You picked up! Great!” Jeno sounded genuinely shocked. “Uhm, will you come back?”

“So you guys can continue belittling my life choices? Pass.”

“No, no, so we can all talk. Actually talk this time.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you sized up your options: staying here with Sungchan, or going back to that unpleasant atmosphere. Seemed like a pretty obvious choice to you.

“Jaemin will apologize,” Jeno added. “He wants to apologize, uh, to you.”

“Why didn’t he call me then?” You asked dryly.

“He didn’t think you’d pick up if he called.”

“I wasn’t going to pick up your call either,” you informed him. “Sungchan said I should hear you out.”

“Oh. You’re with him right now.”

“I’ll come back,” you stated. “But I’m bringing Sungchan.”

You would be feeling awkward right now if you weren’t so pissed off. As soon as Jaemin had opened the door and you saw his face, you just got pissed off all over again. The only thing keeping you here and mostly civil was Sungchan.

“This is Renjun, Jeno, Donghyuck, and Jaemin,” you blandly pointed out all your friends for Sungchan’s sake.

“Hi, Sungchan, dirtbag boyfriend,” Sungchan introduced himself with a broad smile, making the first move to shake all their hands.

Jaemin looked at you incredulously. “Y/N, you told him—”

“They’re your words, Jaemin. Now eat. them.” You said through gritted teeth, arms crossed over your chest firmly.

“I didn’t call you a dirtbag,” Jaemin tried to explain himself to Sungchan.

“Just his band,” Renjun pointed out helpfully.

“I thought it was funny,” Sungchan told him with a chuckle, stepping back to wrap an arm around your shoulders. “Y/N, not so much.”

“Well, she has no sense of humor, as I’m sure you know,” Donghyuck teased.

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t introduce you guys for you to all pick on me.”

“I think you’ve got a great sense of humor, baby,” your boyfriend reassured you, squeezing your arm.

“So do you have like, a tour bus or something?” Jaemin asked.

“We’ve got a van,” Sungchan told them proudly. “We won’t be sleeping in it or anything, we’ll get hotels.”

“How many tattoos do you have?” Donghyuck flopped back into his armchair.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Jaemin rounded on him.

He shrugged. “Nothing. Just curious.”

“I’ve lost count,” Sungchan answered candidly.

“Cool.”

“Y/N mentioned you worked at a bookstore and a tea shop as well,” Jeno said. “Are they cool with you uh, going so suddenly?”

“I’m a part-timer. My bosses at both places knew what I actually wanted to do when I started,” he explained. “If they still have a spot for me when we get back, that’d be nice, but I don’t expect it.”

“So, are you going to be quitting tomorrow, Y/N?” Renjun’s voice held no judgment, just curiosity.

You nodded. “Yeah. I fucking hate that place.”

“Good. I could tell.”

“When do you guys leave? This week?” Jeno asked.

“Saturday,” Sungchan confirmed. “We’ll be popping back over here in a few weeks for a show at Venue:Hell, though.”

“Are there tickets… left?” Jaemin rubbed the back of his neck. “To the show in town?”

“You want to go?” You blurted out, a little dumbfounded.

“Totally, man.” Sungchan was absolutely beaming. “I’ll get you guys some.”

Donghyuck raised his beer to him before tipping it back. “Hell yeah.”

Later that night, tucked under Sungchan’s covers and curled up in his arms, your fingertips traced the lines of his tattoos as you were slowly lulled closer and closer to sleep.

“Thank you, Sungchan,” you said aloud into the darkness.

“Mm? For what, baby?” He questioned sleepily, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“For not giving up on me. Even if you were just tagging along for the ride at the beginning, I would’ve just given up on my stupid little idea to cure my quarter life crisis if I didn’t have someone else doing it with me,” you admitted.

“Thank you for not telling me to fuck off when you had every right to,” he chuckled, tangling his legs with yours. “I love you, baby.”

You turned your head to kiss his hair. “I love you too, Sungchan.”

⏯ sequel

⤷ au masterlist | blog masterlist

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queen-of-deans-booty · 13 days ago

Text

Something To Lose

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: beautiful angst, major character death

Summary: You have one purpose in life. Heal. No matter how long it takes, you will always heal those who need it. You’ve traveled the world across different eras and seen humanity grow and learn, all the way to the 21st century. There, you met Dean Winchester and everything you thought you couldn’t have, Dean proves otherwise. He’s your greatest love and the most important one of all.

Square Filled: healer (2021) for @spnfluffbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

The town is quiet. Everyone is inside their houses sleeping, like you should be, but there is something you need to do. You were chosen for this. You have a destiny to fulfil. You slip out the back door of your little cottage and stick to the trees behind your house. It’s better than being int the streets where you can be caught by police. They’re tracking down on people staying out after curfew. If you’re caught, you could be arrested.

This would not bode well.

The only thing you have to light your way is the torch in your hands, and you take extra care not to let the flames touch the dry leaves above you. The last thing you need is accidentally setting your town on fire. Not that it would be a bad thing. Almost everyone in this town are bad people. Thieves, corrupt politicians, murderers, and traffickers.

No one is safe after dark.

You keep your head down and your hood up to hide your face as you hurry along the unmarked trail. You’re late. Sister Alice will not be pleased about this, but you left late. It’s not your fault your father stayed up nursing three glasses of alcohol. As soon as he passed out on the couch, you were able to slip away.

Sister Alice’s cottage is on the outskirts of town, away from authority. No one comes out here because no one likes Sister Alice. They claim she’s a witch and refuse to welcome her into town. She is one, but she doesn’t want to pretend just to please them. They don’t have evidence against her being a witch which is why they haven’t set fire to her and her cottage. She mostly stays out of people’s way. Most have forgotten about her or have better things to do with their time.

You reach her cottage and set the torch in the holder right outside her front door. You knock twice and she opens it seconds later.

“You are late.”

“I am sorry. Father had not gotten to bed yet.”

“We are just about to get stated. Come.” You slips inside and close the door behind you, following her into the back room where Sister Margaret and Sister Catherine are. “Do you know why you are here, Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you here?”

“To fufil the purpose of the coven. To heal.”

“Yes. Our time has come to pass on the responsiblity to you.” Alice, Catherine, and Margaret stand around a table with different ingredients for the spell. Sitting in the middle of a bowl with red liquid inside. Blood. “With this spell, it will tie you to us. You will now be the sole proprietor for this coven. Do you understand what is at stake?”

“Yes.”

Catherine mutters something in Latin before tossing in a few ingredients into the bowl. Margaret says something different in Latin and tosses a few more ingredients into the spell.

“It is now your turn, my dear,” Alice says.

You offer your hand which she takes. She picks up a long jagged knife and places the tip of the blade to your palm. She pricks your palm so that your blood pools in the middle of your hand. All the spell needs is a few drops of your blood for it to tie to you. She sets the knife down and flips your hand to allow your blood to drip into the mixture.

Now it’s her turn.

You pull your hand away, and Alice starts chanting something in Latin. Flames from the torches spike angrily, and the mixture in the bowl starts to boil. As soon as she stops chanting, the boiling stops and the flames die down to normal. She pours the mixture into a cup and holds it out to you.

“Drink, my dear.”

You don’t hesitate. You drink the entire elixir until there is no more left. You set the cup down and lick your red lips. A trickle of blood runs down your chin, and Margaret grabs a white cloth to wipe it away.

“The spell is now complete.” You look down at your wrist to see the number one thousand embedded on your skin. Like a tattoo. Only it will go away once it reaches zero. “Do you understand the responsibilities that you have just agreed upon?”

“Yes.”

“Recite them.”

“I shall do no harm. I shall only heal those who need it. I shall uphold the rules of this coven.”

“One thousand years have been added to your own lifespan. Use those years wisely. Continue our work. A new healer will be born at the moment of your death, whenever and wherever that may be.”

“I will not let you down, Sister Alice, Sister Margaret, Sister Catherine.”

You left your small town as soon as possible, and you didn’t look back. It took a while to get used to the new power you had, but yoyu soon got the hang of it after a couple of decades. You have the power to heal people, but it takes years off your lifespan to do it. The bigger the wound, the more years are taken off.

After doing this for nearly two decades, you understood how many years it took for certain types of wounds. Smaller ones only take a year or two off while the bigger ones can take up to sixty years. You can heal up until the point of death, you can’t bring anyone back from the dead. You can’t stay bin one town for long otherwise people will get suspicious from your lack of aging.

It gave you the opportunity to travel the world, and you traveled everywhere. Your time was mostly spent in an out of hospitals for the first few centuries, healing those without raising suspicions. As soon as you did, you left to go find someone else who needed it.

That’s the whole point of the coven. They are healers. They aren’t evil. Sister Alice was mocked for her sorcery and was ridiculed for it, but she was responsible for healing those who suffered from wounds or illness. No one knew how good she was. Her, Catherine, and Margaret died shortly after that ritual.

They gave their lives to help you.

You’re not going to let them down. Not when you’ve already done so much for the world.

This power has given you the opportunity to see the world and how humanity has changed. From witnessing the slave trade in Europe to from seeing new religions emerge to Magellan proving the world was round to listening to William Shakespeare read his stories to being part of the scientific revolution with Galileo and Newton to being in the middle of the French and Indian War to seeing the Declaration of Independance signed to seeing the Eiffel Tower being built to watching the first silent movie in theaters to the Titanic sinking to World War II to Chernobyl to 9/11.

You’ve seen and done so much and you have a long more to go. One thousand years you were given, and you only have two hundred left. Theoretically, you could live forever if you stopped haling, but your coven gave you a purpose, and you have to fulfil it. You have to see it to the end.

Before, you were only in certain areas for no more than five years before you were forced to move on. You didn’t have time for relationships. You never felt the need to have one… until you met Dean Winchester. If you thought healing normal people was overwhelming, healing those who were injured by monsters was a whole different ballpark.

You are now going through your yars much faster than you were before. You try not to use too much but there is always someone who needs to be healed. If you can’t heal them completely, you heal a portion of them to make them feel better. You mostly heal victims by monsters nowadays but you occasioanlly go to the hospital to see if anyone there can use your power.

Dean changed your mind about relationships. Suddenly, you felt the need to stick around longer. You wanted to form connections. You wanted something real, and he gave that you to. Sure, you’re probably going to outlive him, but you’re done running form that part of you. Your life have been nothing but hook ups. You want to experience something real before you die, and Dean is that man.

He’s the one variable you can’t control, and it scares the hell out of you. One thing you learned is that it’s good to be scared. It means you have something to lose, and you don’t want to lose him.

Your phone rings and you smile when you see Dean’s name and picture. The Old World was much more beautiful but there’s something about the New World that calls to you. Technology plays a big part of that.

“Hey, Dean,” you answer.

“Hey, where are you? You left before I woke up.”

You look at the giant hospital in front of you. “The hospital. I have something to do here. I won’t take long.”

“Okay.”

“I alos have a surprise for you when I get home,” you say in a sultry tone.

You can hear his smirk on the other end. “Yeah? What is it?”

“Well, it involves you and me… very little clothing, almost none… and lots of kisses.”

“Sounds like my kind of surprise,” he chuckles.

“I’ll see you soon.”

You hang up and walk inside the hospital to check in. After getting a visitor’s pass, you take the elevator to the fourth floor. Since deciding to stay in Kansas with Sam and Dean, you visit the same coffee shop evry morning at the same time as Desiree. You two got to talking, and now you look forward to that interaction every day.

She misses the last three weeks because Destiny, her little girl, got into a bad accident that left her in a coma. She hasn’t left the hospital since, so now you bring her coffee instead.

“Hey, Desiree. How are you doing?”

“I’m alright.”

“How is Destiny?”

“No change. The doctors don’t have hope she is going to wake up,” she cries softly.

You set the coffee on the table knowing she won’t drink it, and you rub her back in comfort.

“Miracles happen every day. You have have to have faith that she’ll wake up.” She nods and wipes her tears away. “Have you eaten?”

“I can’t. I can’t leave her side. She’s my little girl.”

“I’ll stay with her, okay? Go get something to eat. I’ll be here the whole time, okay? I’ll call you if anything happens.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you smile.

“Okay, thank you.”

“It’s no problem.”

Desiree leaves the room and you look at Destiny in thought. You stand up and close the blinds so that no one can look in and see what you’re about to do. You’ve learned pretty quickly that if you give some time, most injuries will heal on their own. People who have borken bones or cuts are going to be okay, so you put your powers to those who need it like cancer patients or paralyzed people, etc.

You wanted to give Destiny some time to come out of this on her own, but it looks like she won’t. Walking away now would not only be a disservice to you but also to your coven. You hover both hands over her body and use your powers to see just how bad she is. Healing her completely will take forty years off your lifepsan, but it’s worth it. This little girl deserves to live a long and happy life, so you don’t think twice about healing her.

This is why you were created.

Her body shines gold as you work your power through her, and you pull away once she is going to be okay. You promised Desiree you’d stay but you can’t be here when Destiny wakes up. You slip out of the room and walk to the elevator. Desiree comes back without noticing you, and you watch her walk into her daughter’s room.

“Destiny! You’re awake! Doctor! Nurse!” she exclaims happily.

The elevator doors close and you smile to yourself. You’re never going to see Desiree again. You leave the hospital and are about to call a cab when you notice the sleep Impala by the curb.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” you ask.

“Picking you up. There’s a hunt.”

“Great,” you smile and get into the car.

“So, did you finish what you were doing?” Dean asks.

“Yeah. I just wanted to visit a friend. She’s going to be okay.”

You don’t tell them about what you did because they don’t know you can heal. I’s not that you don’t trust them, you trust them with your life. You’ve just never told anyone about these powers, and you’re not going to start now. Imagine what would happen if the rest of the world found about this. You’d be a science project, and you can’t let your coven down even though you’re the only remaining member.

No, it’s best to stay in the dark.

“So, what’s the hunt about?”

“We don’t know yet. All we know is that people are dead, and it kinda of looks like our thing.”

Without Chuck pulling the reins, they’re able to take whatever hunts that come their way. They’re finally free and life hasn’t been as sweet as it is now. Dean stops halfway to Texas to get gas, and Sam walks intot he gas station to get a few snacks. You and Dean stay by the car for some alone time.

You lean against the car and Dean traps you with both arms. Not like you want to go anywhere. He leans in and kisses you slowly and lovingly. He slides one hand into your hair before moving it down to your jaw.

“How about after this hunt, we should take a ride to the coast. Maybe spend time at the beach. I’ve been looking at a few beach houses for rent.”

“Just us?”

“Just us,” you grin.

You lean up and kiss him again, this time for longer. You hear Sam’s footsteps and part from his brother. It’s late by the time you get to Texas, so you decide to tackle this in the morning. A group of people had violated the home of a family of four, took the kids, killed the dad, and cut the tongue out of the mother.

Police are at the crime scene when you get there, and Sam and Dean flash their badges tot he detective.

“Tell us what happened here.”

“From what we gathered from the wife, four masked men came into their home last night. The woman locked the kids in their bedrooms but that doesn’t stop them from attacking her. They cut out her tongue and drained the dad’s body of blood. They found the kids and took them. We don’t know where yet.”

“What did the killers looks like?” Sam asks.

The detective hands over a sketch. Dean takes the sketch and immediately recognizes the masks they used. He’s read about it enough times in his father’s journal. John was hunting this group way back when, but they escaped. They used the same MOs back then, and now they’ve returned to continue killing.

“Why don’t you two do research. I want to visit the mother at the hospital,” you say.

You use Dean’s car to drop them at the motel before going to the hospital. The woman is in a private room sleeping, and you quietly slip inside without waking her. You might not be able to bring her children or husband back, but you can give her something. You can’t bring back limbs once they’ve been removed from a person because you’d have to create bone, tissue, nerves, muscle, and everything else in order to restore function. However, the tongue is a muscle. No bones or ligaments or skin is needed to fix it.

Looking at her wound, it’s only going to take twenty years off your life span. That will leave you with one hundred and forty years before you die. You don’t want this woman to have to live with this her whole life. All it’ll be is a reminder of the worst day. The least you can do is try to give her her life back.

Healing her only takes five minutes, and you leave her room before anyone notices. Sam and Dean, when you return, have figured out that you’re dealing with a group of vampires. It would explain the draining of blood. With your help, they’re able to locate where their nest is. If children are involved, you have to go with them.

You’re not a hunter and you don’t go out in the field, but you will for this one since children are at stake. You usually help with research or gathering supplies when they need it. You’re a lover not a fighter, but you don’t hesitate to go with them when they leave.

“I can’t have you in this fight,” Dean says to you when they get to the farm.

“What are you talking about? I can fight if needed.”

Dean turns to look at you over the back seat, and Sam exits out of the car to give you two a moment.

“I can’t lose you, okay?”

“Then let me get the kids out. You two fight and I’ll get them to safety. I’ll stay with them out here. Let me do this.”

Dean can’t do his job if he’s worrying about you, but this seems okay.

“Okay. Get them out and stay out here.”

“Okay,” you nod.

The brothers get their machetes and quickly scout the house for the best entry point. The kid are located in the barn in the back along with the vampires, but there are two entrances. One in the front and one in the back. You run to the back and wait for their signal before entering. Sam and Dean have been doing this for decades so it’s easy to infiltrate the nest. As soon as you hear the fight, you yank the door open and sneak inside.

There are about a dozen kids huddle together on a dirty mattress on the floor, and you psst them to grab their attentions.

“Hey, kids, follow me. I’m here to get you to safety. Come on.”

They have no problem trusting you since you’re not the ones who has taken them. They run out of the door while Sam and Dean keep the vampires busy, and you bring them over to the Impala. You can’t transfer them all in the car, but you can wait with them until the authorities show up.

Ten minutes go by and then another twenty, and Sam and Dean are still inside the barn. Screw waiting. If you can help, you’re going to fucking help.

“Okay, stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, don’t go,” one of the little girls whimpers.

“You’ll be okay. No one is going to hurt you. My friends are taking care of the bad guys right now, but I have to check up on them. I’ll be right back. Just stay here, okay?”

They have no choice but to do as they’re told, and you run back to the barn. You take the back entrance to keep your presence a secret, only to see if Sam and Dean needs you. All but one vampire is dead, and Dean is fighting with him while Sam is on the ground with blood coming out of his head. He’s okay and he staggers to his feet ready to aid his brother.

The vampire grabs Dean and shoves him backwards into a wooden post in the middle of the room. You let out a gasp/scream when you see a huge metal spike sticking out of it. Dean gasps when his back is impaled by the spike. Sam runs at the vampire and slices his head off, killing the very last one.

“Dean!” You run over to him and gets tears at the pale look on his face. “No, you’re going to be okay.”

“Sammy… Y/N…” he mumbles.

“Hey, you’re gooingto be okay. Look at me, Dean,” Sam orders.

Dean opens his eyes and looks at his brother with a painful smile. “We always knew this job would take us out.”

“No, you’e not dying today,” you say. “Help me get him off.”

Sam tries to remove his brother, but Dean shouts in pain. “No, leave me here. It hurts too much.”

You look at Dean’s injuries and then at the one hundred and forty on your wrist. The spike not only cut through his lung but also pierced his heart. If you take him off now, you’ll only have maybe a minute to heal him before he dies.

Not only that, it’ll take every single year left to heal him. You’ll die. There’s no question. You have to do this. This is what you were created to do. The second you met Dean, you wanted something real for once. You got that. He gave you everything you’ve wanted in life.

It’s time you give it back to him.

“Sam, help me take him off,” you say. Dean protests but you and Sam work together to get him off the spike. “You’re going to be okay, Dean. I promise.”

Sam sobs as he lays his brother down on the ground, and Dean gasps as he tries to get a lungful of air.

“You’re goig to be okay, Dean. I’m going to heal you.”

You stick your hands out and allow your powers to make them shine gold.

“What are you doing? What is going on?” Sam asks.

Dean opens his eyes and gasps out again. “Y/N… What….”

“I’m a healer, Dean. I was born in the 1400s, and my coven gave me these powers. I was given one thousand years to live to help those who needed me. Every time I heal, those years are taken away.”

“How many years do you have left?” Sam asks.

“One hundred and forty.”

“How many years will this take?”

“All of it.”

“Y/N, no,” Dean whispers.

“I have to.” Dean’s body shines gold as you work to heal his injuries. The more he is healed, the weaker you get. “Y/N, stop. You’ll die.”

“You’ll die if I don’t. I’m going to be okay, Dean. You’re worth it,” you whisper. “You’ve always been worth it. I never thought I was going to love someone as much as I love you. You gave me a life worth living. Let me return the favor. This world still needs you.”

Dean opens his mouth to protest, but you lean down and kiss him, allowing your power to flow from the kiss. The second the last of your life force slips into Dean, you collapse onto the ground next to him, dead. Dean takes in a lungful of air for the first time since being impaled, and he looks at you with tears in his eyes.

“Y/N, wake up.”

Somewhere around the world, a healer is being created to continue the coven’s work. They’ll know what to do. Just like the one after that will know what to do. Dean cradles your body and cries into your hair. He is fully healed of his injuries but the hole in his heart is something that will never be healed. It’s where you’re supposed to be.

“I love you,” he cries. “I love you so much. Don’t forget that.”

Suddenly, your entire body crumbles to dust, and a thousand little lights lift from the ashes. Your essence. Your coven has always insured that you would be taken care of in the afterlife. Sam and Dean watch as the little lights flutter around the room before shooting to the sky. The barn is a piece of shit with parts of the roof missing, so Dean is able to see those little lights fly away.

The stars shine brightly when you’ve reached Heaven.

Dean knows you’ll always be watching over him and if he’s lucky, he’ll join you in Heaven when it’s his time. One day, he’ll see you again.

You just made sure that day isn’t today.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fluff #supernatural angst #supernatural series rewrite

129 notes · View notes

wordy-little-witch · 1 month ago

Text

In honor of my newest fixation, have some TSAMS incorrect quotes -

Generic Edition

Lunar: Uh, I think I got your lunch. *Holds up a note that reads: ‘I am very proud of you. Love, Sun’*

Solar: Oh yeah. I didn’t think this was for me. *Holds up a note that reads: ‘Be good. For the love of God, Please be good.’*

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Judge: Does the defendant have any special requests?

Sun: Death penalty.

Solar, from the gallery: Sun, it’s just a parking ticket.

Sun, whispering into the mic: Please kill me.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Moon: I love sarcasm! It’s like punching people in the face, but with words!

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Lunar: *Hugs Earth from behind*

Lunar: *Tucks Earth's hair behind their ear*

Lunar, whispering: Eat all the frosted animal crackers again and they'll never find your body.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Lunar: Change is inedible.

Solar: Don’t you mean inevitable?

Lunar, spitting out a bunch of pennies: No, I really didn’t.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Lunar: Which country has the most birds?

Lunar: Portu-geese!

Earth: That's a language.

Lunar: Portu-gull?

Earth: Good recovery.

Moon: I think you mean good re-dovery.

Sun: TURKEY. HOW DID YOU MISS TURKEY?

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Sun: *accidentally eats something too spicy so their eyes start to water*

Earth: Sun, look at me. It's okay. I would die for you. I love you so much. You're the best person I know.

Sun: I'm not crying?

Earth, hugging Sun's head: Shush baby, it's okay. little sister is here and I love you with my whole heart.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Sun: Caffeine no longer keeps me awake while I work, so instead I have Moon periodically send me texts saying ‘we need to talk.’

Sun: It gives me the right amount of adrenaline and fear I need to keep going.

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Moon: Everyone has a toxic trait. Except Earth, they’re perfect.

Earth: Wrong! My toxic trait is how badly I want to domesticate a raccoon and several geese.

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Lunar: Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequences of my actions.

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Solar: apartment "complex"? Really? I find it quite simple.

Sun, about to McLose it: ya know what else is simple? Me simply shoving my foot up your-

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Moon: *watching the squad's shenanigans with concern* Do you feel like this has gotten out of hand?

Solar: I don't know. Feels normal enough for a group that's on 911's blocked callers list.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Earth: people seem to be under the impression that I am the mom friend. I am not. If anything, I am the sister friend. The mom friend is Sun, but people aren't ready for that conversation yet.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Lunar: What is love?

Solar: An emotional minefield.

Moon: A neurochemical reaction.

Earth: Baby don't hurt me.

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Moon: Look, Sun, it's the third time this week you had a mental breakdown and its Monday.

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Sun: I’m genuinely surprised you haven’t gotten arrested, let alone gotten a felony yet.

Lunar: Nat 20 Charisma.

Sun: That is NOT how that works-

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Earth: Sun, can you help me? All of my clothes keep disappearing for some reason.

Sun, wearing a hoodie that's 5 times bigger than their size: Spooky.

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Earth: So... what’s goin’ on?

Solar: You want the long version or the short version?

Earth, hesitantly: The short one, I guess?

Solar: Shit’s fucked.

Earth: Oh. Well, yeah, that’s definitely not an optimal situation.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Solar: Synonyms are weird because if you invite someone to your cottage in the forest, that just sounds nice and cozy. But if I invite you to my cabin in the woods you’re going to die.

Lunar: My favorite is explaining the difference between a butt dial and a booty call.

Earth: It’s called connotations.

Sun: Try this one on for size, “Forgive me, Father, I have sinned” vs “Sorry, Daddy, I’ve been naughty."

Moon: Great news! Language is now banned!

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Sun: Everything’s fine, I'm fine.

Earth: Sun, I know your relationship with the english language is strictly casual, but you- I- *deep inhale* ALLOW ME TO TELL YOU WHAT’S NOT FINE.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Sun: Solar is the bravest person I know. He can go into the Spirit Halloween without crying.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Moon: You were stabbed. Do you remember anything?

Sun: Only the ambulance ride to the hospital.

Solar: That wasn't an ambulance, we drove you.

Sun: But I heard a siren.

Lunar: That was Earth.

Earth: Sorry, I got nervous.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Sun: I'm hot, I’m tall, I'm gay, and I'm on my theatre kid arc.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Moon: I'm so tired of this life. I want to be a roomba. I want knives taped to me. And I want to be set loose.

Sun: ... you know what, mood, honestly

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Lunar: How many vampires do you think have been hit by a car backing up in a parking lot because the driver couldn’t see their reflection?

Moon: I’ve never considered it but you’re really shining light on what’s probably a very serious issue.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Moon: How do you want your coffee?

Sun: Black, like my soul.

Moon:

Moon: Sun, your soul is a latte.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

SolarSun Edition

Solar: So the other day I sent Sun out to get us some gas.

Solar: And instead of getting gas, they got us novelty cookie cutters.

Solar: Now everything we eat is shaped like a dinosaur.

Solar: …

Solar: I love them so much.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Earth: Why don’t you go talk to them?

Solar, sarcastically: Oh. Yeah, sure.

Earth: What? So you go tell Sun that he's cute, what’s the worst that could happen?

Solar: They could hear me.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Solar: *yawns*

Sun: Yeah, being that pretty must be tiring.

Solar: Then you must be exhuasted.

Moon: this is too sweet, I'm gonna hurl-

#tsams #incorrect quotes #tsams sun #tsams moon #tsams solar #tlaes lunar #tlaes earth #tlaes #SolarSun #hehehehehehe

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waklman · 2 years ago

Text

Delicate (Pt. 1)

summary: jake meets natasha's friend and gets his first taste of gentleness, but before he can chase the feeling, natasha blocks him off.

pairing: jake seresin x female reader.

warnings: negative self talk, cursing, mentions of drinking, sex, and nudity. this is a 18+ blog.

word count: 2.5k.

next part

“Fine. We don’t even have to kiss.” Natasha offers, forehead slumped against your knees.

Natasha lost all shame when she came to you minutes ago, pleading with you to play pretend girlfriend this weekend with her—In hopes that her WSO would make the first move on her, provoked by jealousy.

She has stooped so low-even to the point where she’s gotten down on both her knees in the middle of your living room, hoping her desperation translates.

“Who even said anything about that!” you shriek, covering your face from embarrassment–refusing to look at her.

“Would you please get off your knees Nat?” you ask, dragging your hands down your face–stressed by her proposition.

Upon hearing your strained plea, Natasha defeatedly peels herself off the floor, ignoring the bruising pain in her knees.

“Look, if Bob is as sweet as you say he is, I doubt he’d try to play homewrecker, Natasha,” you’re firm with your response.

Natasha sighs, haphazardly throwing herself onto the couch, next to you.

“You’re right,” she admits.

“How about you try making a move?” You reach over, resting your hand atop her head out of habit.

“You think I haven’t tried? Every time I flirt with him, he looks like he wants to run in the opposite direction.” The brunette leans into your touch, allowing you to stroke the top of her head.

“Maybe he’s not sure if you’re joking or not,” you turn your head to gauge her reaction, but Natsha is blankly staring at the floor.

“I don’t know if I have it in me to say I like him so outright like that,” she cautiously confesses.

You’ve never seen Natasha so down on her luck before, her usual fiery attitude is nowhere to be seen, almost as if it never existed in the first place. You two have never found yourselves in a situation like this in the span of your friendship, it’s strange to say the least, and so you’re both lost on what to do.

Natasha takes a peak at your face, hearing you hum in contemplation. She takes in your expression as your mind begins to skim through possible solutions, eager to relieve your best friend from her problem.

“I’ll come with you to the bar this weekend,” you start,

Natasha immediately straightens up, almost smacking you in the process.

“Only for emotional support, You’re gonna tell him you like him. And because I believe in you, I’ll be there to cheer you on,” you finish, resolutely pointing your finger at her.

“I fucking love you,” she leaps herself at you, attempting to hug you.

“One day, he better love you enough that he’d go streaking for you,” you poke her side, smiling, reminding her of the time the two of you went streaking back in college—after you had just made up from a ridiculous argument. It was almost like a strange promise—that no matter what, you’d be willing to completely embarrass yourself for the other person.

It would have been a waste if you two didn’t stay friends after running down butt naked on the busiest street of your town. After all–you almost got arrested for public indecency that day.

“I hope you find someone who would go streaking for you too, besides me of course.” She gloats happily, arms squeezing around you even tighter.

Surprisingly enough, this is the first time you’re meeting Natasha’s team. The anxiety you felt leading up to this weekend is no longer a thought in your mind because everyone welcomed you with open arms, hugging and complimenting you as they introduced themselves. In a way, they’re all reflections of Natasha–reliable, kind, and self-assured, and you’re glad she’s surrounded by a good group of people. Though, you have yet to meet the last member of her team.

“Hey, where’s Hangman at, Coyote?” The tanned man you remember as Rooster, asks.

Coyote opens his mouth to speak, but shuts it again, not sure if he can say it.

“No.” Rooster exclaims, setting down his beer.

“Yup.” Coyote nods, lips scrunched into a tight line.

Before you could even turn to ask Natasha why everyone around the pool table looks distraught, there’s a shrieking sound by the entrance and it seems to be moving closer.

“Jakey-pie, come on,” the person whines.

Noticing everyone scattering around, trying to make themselves look busy at the sound of the voice, you look up—right in the direction that everyone is currently avoiding.

Your eyes first land on the girl, she’s obviously young–somewhere in her mid twenties, and her choice of clothing is, well it’s definitely a choice. But—she’s strikingly beautiful, you really had no room to judge her.

Natasha and Bob laugh beside you, watching as your eyes practically hang out of your skull upon seeing the girl inappropriately slobbering her lips over the neck of the blond man she’s clung to.

Your eyes frantically scatter to the man’s face, slightly disturbed by the girl’s very public display of affection.

He has a sheepish smile on his face, but anyone with half a brain could pick up on the fact that there’s a twinge of discomfort in his expression. You can’t help but frown, wondering how often she does this to him.

“Sorry I’m late guys. I had to pick up Stella.” The blond finally reaches the group, announcing an apology for his late arrival.

A chorus of it’s okay and it’s fine are heard–but no one truly sounds like they’re okay with it at all.

Jake’s nervous eyes scan over everyone, heart lurching at everyone’s dispirited reactions. But then he lands his sights on you.

His breath almost gets caught in his throat for a second. You’re the only one that’s not avoiding his gaze or sending him a dirty look–and your eyes are so kind.

“Hey. I’m Jake or Hangman, I don’t believe we’ve met yet.” He forgets Stella’s arm is slung around his own, failing to free himself from her to shake your hand.

Jake prepares himself, expecting to see you judge him for letting the younger girl control his every move. Instead, you chose to smile at him, assuring him that it truly is okay.

You don’t even falter under Stella’s harsh glare either, and a small part of Jake starts to believe his nonna’s rants on how love at first sight is very much plausible.

“Hi, I’m Natasha’s-”

“Friend who will be grabbing more drinks with me and Bob.” Natasha cuts you off, pulling you towards the bar.

Baffled by her reaction, you turn to disapprovingly glare at her.

Behind you, Bob is smiling to himself—quietly observing your dynamic with the other pilot.

“That was rude,” you huff, leaning against the bar.

“I was doing you a favor,” she scolds, nose pointed in the air.

Bob tries to come to the guy’s defense, moving to stand next to Natasha. “He’s not that bad.”

“You’re too sweet Bobby,” your best friend sighs.

You’re quickly distracted from Natasha’s previous behavior, slyly smiling to yourself because you notice that Bob’s ears are bright red at the small compliment.

You’ve managed to slip away from Natasha and Bob not long ago, a strong craving for pizza–invoked by a drink or two, leads you towards the exit of the Hard Deck.

From seeing the glowing red exit sign, your feet move on their own towards it, like a moth to a flame.

But to your dismay, someone goes flying against your back, sending you to land straight on the bar floor.

Dusting off your legs, you manage to stand again–turning around to see the commotion behind you.

“Ugh. Go away Jakey-pie,” the girl groans, after shoving Jake.

“Honey, you’re drunk, let me just take you home.” Jake pleads, exasperated, not even realizing he's knocked you to the ground.

“No. I’m gonna uber to another bar with my friends, this place is boring.” She protests, her heels clicking loudly against the floor as she stalks off.

Jake doesn’t even have it in him to chase after her, shoulders drooping as he watches her unapologetically slam into strangers until she dips from his sight.

“Do you always let twenty year olds walk all over you like that?” A softer voice fills his ears.

He cranes his neck to check behind him, and there you are.

You are calmer in comparison to Stella, and Jake feels your energy waft off on him–allowing him to relax in your presence.

“Hey, Natasha’s friend,” he greets you, smiling as he extends his hand towards you–successfully this time.

You gladly shake his hand, noticing his grip is a little weak, which is odd for someone in his field.

And though the younger girl is far gone, you see the discomfort from earlier still swimming in his eyes. He looked like he needed some cheering up, and what better way to cheer someone up but with pizza?

“Hi Jakey-pie, are you in the mood for pizza?” you ask, head tilted.

“Lead the way please,” he nods, with satisfied smile plastered on his face, at the thought of a hot slice of pizza.

You comically spin to face the exit again, a little spurred on by the idea of pizza and Jake's smile grows wider watching you stomp off, mimicking Stella for his entertainment.

And before he can process it, you're already half way across the bar. Jake’s unsure how you’re navigating around bodies so well, and he grows worried trying to keep track of you as you swiftly move around fellow navy men who shamelessly stare down to look at your backside.

Finally catching up to you, he hoovers closely behind to block off the view of your butt–grinning directly at a man who looks at him angrily.

“Pizza reveal��are you ready?”

“So ready,” he nods, equally as eager as you.

Both of you turn to make sure the other has their hands placed on their respective boxes.

“1…2…3…Go.”

You both rip open the top of your pizza boxes, closing your eyes to inhale the intoxicating swirl of tomato sauce, slightly burnt crust, and melted mozzarella.

“Noo, Jakey-pie! You’re a pineapple on pizza kind of guy?” You pull your hand up to your face, covering your gaping mouth.

“Says you, mushroom pizza girl,” he scoffs, looking into your pizza box.

You both stare at each other, pretending to be upset with one another until laughter erupts between you two.

You’re laughing so hard, you snort–and Jake almost pees himself when he sees strangers glare at you for being so loud.

“Hey, so what’s the deal with that girlfriend of yours?” You ask, taking a bite of your slice.

“She’s not really my girl. I don’t know,” he sighs, joining you by taking a bite from his own pizza.

“You know, it’s really no good for you if you keep someone like that around,” you suddenly grow serious.

Truthfully, Jake wants to take your advice but he’s not sure if he can, because Stella is exactly the type of person he purposely keeps around.

She’s the kind of girl Jake feels worthy of–ones who stroke his ego and dick–and only listens to him talk about his feelings while they’re completely plastered, not remembering a thing he says by the time they sober up.

“What if that kind of person is the only thing I'm deserving of?” Jake doesn’t know if it’s the three beers or the dizzying San Francisco heat, but he lets his guard down without feeling an ounce of wariness.

“Why don’t you see your worth, Jake?” You grimly set down your pizza to look up at him, hunger completely forgotten.

You look so concerned for him, and Jake doesn’t know how to process the strange feeling that starts to fill up his chest. How is that you–a stranger, care for him more than Stella has before? More than anyone has before?

Jake feels himself shrink in front of you, unsure if he’s deserving of being in your presence.

“If you heard what people said about me sweetheart,” Jake reaches to twist open his soda.

“You might agree that I’m not worth too much,” his body grows so weak, he struggles to get the cap open.

“Let me help you.”

Jake stares up at you wide eyed, unsure if you’re talking about helping him see his worth—or helping him open his soda.

“I knew I’d find you here.” A voice furiously calls out from across the parking lot.

Natasha’s commanding tone sends you snapping your heads in her direction, looking like two deers caught in headlights.

She’s almost running towards you, with Bob struggling to keep up behind her.

“You–young lady, are coming home with me.” She grabs you from the slab of sidewalk you planted your butt on, you stumble to stand on your feet–carefully balancing your pizza box.

“Wait. Let me get your-” Jake sputters.

“Hangman. See you Monday,” she cuts him off immediately, pairing it with a cold look.

“And Bobby, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She pecks Bob right on the mouth, causing your jaw to fall slack.

“What—wait-” It’s too late. She’s already leading you by the arm away from the two men.

Bob bites his lip, watching as you and Jake just sadly watch each other–worried you won’t ever get to finish your conversation.

Bagman:

Hey

Trace:

No.

“Well..at least she responded '' Coyote says, peering over Jake’s shoulder, trying to ease his best friend’s disencourage state.

Bagman:

All I said was hey?

Trace:

That was already too much lol.

Bagman:

What’s your friend's name…?

“Don’t put those dots dude, you sound creepy!” Coyote exclaims, trying to grab at the phone–but Jake already sent it.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Jake frustratedly yells back, unconsciously biting his nails.

Trace:

Her name is Phoenix Lover.

Bagman:

Please? I’ll literally do anything.

Natasha’s eyes almost burn, staring contemplatively at the bright screen. Hangman begging? That's new. Hangman begging her? That’s something rare. Biting down on her lip, Natasha types out her reply, thumb hovering over the send button, unsure. Fuck it.

Trace:

Meet me here next week at 3, and I’ll tell you.

Jake and Coyote stare blankly at the address Phoenix sends over.

“Why does she want to meet there? There’s gonna be tourists flooding that area by then.” Coyote ponders.

“I don’t even care man, I’m showing up.” Jake swallows, typing out a thank you.

Natasha shuts her phone off, slamming it against her beating heart. She stares up at the ceiling, her vision trying to adjust to the pitch black room.

Seconds later, her phone dings, signifying that Hangman already texted back, and she hurriedly lifts the device back up to her face.

Hangman:

Thank you so much.

See you Monday, goodnight Phoenix.

“Are you texting Bobby?” You tease, turning over in her bed.

“What the shit. I thought you were asleep.” Natasha flinches, almost dropping her phone.

“I can’t sleep. I miss Jakey-pie,” you replicate Stella’s whine.

And although you sound like you're joking, you're really not. Your mind has been whirling ever since you got back with Natasha, unable to ease the worried feeling that festered in your stomach since that conversation with Jake.

“But seriously though, are you texting him?” You change the topic, not wanting to make it more difficult for yourself to sleep.

“No, I’m making plans to watch someone go streaking next week,” she proudly brags.

“What? Who? Can I come?” You shuffle closer to her in bed.

“No. Goodnight.” Natasha turns her back on you, hiding her smile from view.

thank you for reading, and as always-reblogs are greatly appreciated!

join my taglist here. or follow me on @waklman-library & turn on notifs there to be notified when i post!

taglist: @pono-pura-vidaa @teaminator @alana4610

not my gif! if anyone knows the creator please let me know!!

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water-to-drink · 2 years ago

Text

Be a Gladiolus in a Field of Belladonnas pt4

(Summary): After your sudden disappearance from the face of Tevyat, some people take the time to discuss their next move

Part 1 Last Part Next Part

✧ Masterlist ✧

(Characters): Diluc, Kaeya, Zhongli, Nahida, Venti, abyss prince!Aether, traveler!Lumine, Paimon

(Warnings): Not proof read, characters might be ooc

(A/n): I didn’t think a lot of people would enjoy this little idea, but hey I love writing stories and I hope you guys enjoy the rest that I have planned out

∘◦ ✧ ◦∘ means flashback

─────────── ✧ ───────────

It’s been a few weeks after your detainment and escape things have changed at the Dawn Winery, the once cheery mood you brought was now replaced with one of bitterness

The entire household have refrained from bringing up any mention of you so to not upset anyone, especially the master of the house

He’s taken up to locking himself in his study, completely drowning himself in work. It’s gotten to the point where the servants would urge him to eat a proper dinner instead of the small meals he would request sparingly

It looked like today would be just like that until a servant Moco announced that Diluc had a visitor

“Hello Diluc.” Kaeya said as he waved while leaning on the doorframe

“Agghhhh! Leave, I’m in no mood to deal with you!” Diluc grunted

“Aww don’t be like that, is it so wrong to see how my dear brother is doing?” The blue haired hand said as he sauntered towards his brother’s desk

“If I entertain you for 5 minutes will you leave?”

“Make it 10, then I’ll leave.”

“Fine…”

“So how have you been doing?”

“Good, I suppose. The knights have came to my door multiple times but haven’t but haven’t arrested me yet.” Diluc explains as he leans back on his chair. “I figure I should thank you for that.”

“I’ve been trying to explain that you don’t pose a threat to anyone, but ever since the failed execution and the traveler’s betrayal everyone’s been really tense.” Kaeya leans in towards Diluc. “Apparently the Creator is going crazy just looking for them.”

“By ‘them’ I assume you mean Mentir? If you’re here to get any information on their whereabouts then I can’t help you.” Diluc crossed his arms. “But I would assume you know their location when you were the one who aided in their escape.”

The cocky smirk on Kaeya’s face still held on but a slight panic flashed in his eye

“Whatever do you mean, dear brother?”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” Diluc asserted as he got out of his seat and was eye to eye with his brother. “I know you helped Mentir along with someone else!”

Kaeya’s face fell flat and began to make his way towards the window

“Throwing accusations that severe, are dangerous Diluc,” Kaeya feigned as he threw the curtains, after drenching the study in darkness he walked towards the door. “with how things have been, one wrong comment could cost someone their reputation or worse their life. He continued as he opened the door and looked down the hallway to see if someone was listening in. Seeing no one, he closed the door and locked it from the inside

Kaeya walked back to his previous spot and looked Diluc with a serious expression that is rarely seen

“I remember we always used to try to listen in on dad’s conversations but never heard a sound, I’m pretty sure I could yell at the top of my lungs and no one would hear.” The captain commented

“What are you getting at?”

“I’m just letting you know my appreciation for the soundproofing of this room.”

“That has nothing to do with you abetting the escape of a criminal!”

“Isn’t referring to Mentir as a ‘criminal’ a bit too harsh, I would assume you would call them something a lot nicer considering you opened your home to them.”

Diluc harrowed his eyes at Kaeya, getting ready to summon is claymore if need be

“Think about it, why would you a social recluse, let a stranger into your home who you just met in the forest at night?” Kaeya said as his movements became increasingly more genuine, a complete contrast from his controlled and practiced movements he would do when interrogated people for information. “Unless, their was something about them that felt familiar to you, an aura they radiated that you experienced before…” Kaeya put his hands on the desk and leaned in towards the redhead on the other side. “Like when you were used as a vessel…”

“Are you implying that Mentir is the Creator?!” Diluc spat back, his body language getting more visibly tense

“I’m not implying, I’m downright saying it.”

“If you knew Mentir was the Creator? Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Their name is (y/n) and I thought you wouldn’t want any information from a ‘heathenistic Khaenri’ahn spy’ dear brother.”

“Is you dropping this bomb on me the reason why you’re here?”

“I’m here to ask if you know the whereabouts of their Grace.”

“I don’t know, as I said before I would assume you have some idea on their general whereabouts.”

“That was the plan, Lumine was supposed to contact me when she found a safe place for them.”

“I could report you to the knights for spouting such blasphemous claims and conspiring against this ‘faker’ as you so claim.”

“Hehe. I know you won’t do that, want to know why? Because I know you and your sense of justice wouldn’t let you live with you turning me in.” Kaeya explained as he got up and walked towards the door before stopping and turning to Diluc. “And most of all, you don’t want to get rid of the remaining family you have left. Because no matter what we have between us, we’ll always be brothers. Least that’s what I think.”

As Kaeya walked out the door Diluc was left alone in complete darkness and with his thoughts

A truly awful combination

─────────── ✧ ───────────

In the neighboring of Liyue, two archons walk through Tianqiu Valley. The oldest and youngest of the Seven walk side by side admiring the scenery the region has to offer

“Your nation is magnificent, Mora.”

“Thank you, Buer. I’ve formed this nation into what their Grace would’ve liked.”

“What was the Creator like, before they died?”

“They were an amazing person, they had a wisdom and philocaly that I haven’t seen in any other being.”

∘◦ ✧ ◦∘

“Your Grace! Yahoo!” A high pitched voice called out

You turn your head to see Barbatos waving towards you and Morax

“Barbatos! How are you?” You gave the god a bright smile that rivaled the brightest of stars

“Wonderful, thank you very much.”

Morax scoffed at the laidback nature the wind god would often have when addressing you, seeing the behavior as childish at best and sacrilegious at worst. But you gave a little chuckle showing no contempt

“I see you brought your lyre, do you have a song you want to play?” You asked

“Why yes, your Grace! I actually wrote a song just for you.” Barbatos spoke

The deity readied his lyre and became playing his tune with the upmost care and passion. His fingers pluck the strings with grace he rarely shows

Once the ballad ends the smaller god looked at you expectantly

“Barbatos, that was lovely!”

“I don’t know why you entertain such foolishness, your Grace.”

“Don’t be like that Morax. Everything on this planet is beautiful in its own way.” You held your hand up as a crystal fly began to land on a finger. “Even from the most vibrant gardens to the moss that grows on rocks.” The crystal fly fluttered its wings as it flew away.

“Everything has a right to exist how it wants to exist.” You said as you watched the creature flying further out of sight

∘◦ ✧ ◦∘

“The sadness in their eyes is something that will never leave me no matter how long I’ll live.” Zhongli ended

“Ohh…” Nahida said as she looked down. “They seem to be very different from that, person.”

“They truly are but there is another reason why I called for you.”

Zhongli extended his hand and a petal appeared out of thin air. The petal didn’t appear to resemble any of the fauna native to Teyvat, it was light gold color and looked to be it was just plucked from the flower

A bright light blinded Nahida, shielded her eyes from the intense brightness

“You can open your eyes, Buer.” Zhongli spoke

Following his instructions, Nahida opened her eyes and was greeted by the sight of a massive library. The shelves nearly reached the tall ceiling, all containing books of multiple formats, including hardcovers, scrolls, stone tablets, you name it

“This domain once belonged to our Grace, but fell into mine and your hands when they fell.” Zhongli explained as he ushered Nahida to follow him. “In your previous form, you helped collect manuscripts pertaining to the Creator.”

“This collection much be very extensive, it puts the library at the House of Daena to shame. I would love to read at least a percentage from here!”

“Thank you, Buer. Once this issue has been resolved you’ll be free to read anything from here.”

Nahida was a bit too excited to notice Zhongli stopped walking and bumped into him. She took a step back and saw what the two were standing in front of

A door with an unknown symbol on the front of it

“What’s behind this door?” The dendro archon asked

“I don’t know, we’ve tried to open it but to no avail. The door was here when I first came here. I was hoping if there’s anything in the Akademiya that would give us some insight on how to open the door.”

“I’ll see what I can find. I do hope that we can see what this door is hiding.”

─────────── ✧ ───────────

The months in the abyss changed you, the once scared outlander transformed into a resilient fighter, both physically and emotionally.

You mastered sword fighting thanks to the training you had with Lumine. Once getting little nicks every time you and the traveler exchange blows, now someone who can keep up with her

Along with that one could say you radiated the same level of command your doppelganger had, but the thing that separated you from them is your compassion

You treated everyone as your equal, never holding your authority over the heads of everyone else. You showed respect even to the hilichurls and mages, never dreamed of raising a hand to anyone who displeased you (as if anyone would ever try)

“(Y/n)!” A high pitched voice brought you out of your thoughts

You turned around to see Paimon and the twins following close behind

“We’ve been looking for you all over the

“Paimon can you stop calling the Creator by their name, it’s very disrespectful.” Aether reprimanded

“It’s fine, I prefer it if you use my name anyway.” You explained

The floating fairy looked at Aether with a smug grin on her face

“Is there anything you want to talk to me about?” You asked

“Ahem! Well I came to see how you’re adjusting to life here, I can be very hard on those who just came from the surface.”

“I’m doing great actually, I wasn’t expecting to get used to being here this quickly.”

“That’s good to hear, I heard from Lumine that your training is coming along nicely.”

“Well, what can I say? When I have the renowned traveler teaching me.”

“Ohh stop it, you pick up the sword very quickly I ran out of things to teach you.” Lumine said trying to hide the blush creeping up on her face

“Lumine’s right, it’s almost like you wielded a sword before and were really good at it.” Paimon added

“You think so, hopefully I’m quick to learn abyssal magic.”

“I don’t think that would possible?” Aether said

“Why is that?” Lumine asked

“Because abyssal magic is a lot more complicated to control than the 7 elements, it would be easier if you learn said elements first.” The prince explained

“Really…?” You said as you stroked your chin. “Okay, then let’s get to learning the elements.”

“Uh, do you know what that would look like? It would mean that you would have to go and be out of the abyss.” Aether advised

“I can’t stay here forever, and I certainly can’t let that tyrant go punished. And besides…” You clasps your hands behind your back and leaned in towards the blond guy. “I’ll have you and Lumine with me!”

“WHAT?!”

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