#miss judge your voice is so soothing and your words r so kind

[remember-redbeard]

*cries everytime I listen to a This is Love episode*

#i also cry at most Criminal episodes #miss judge your voice is so soothing and your words r so kind

[looooooooomis]

FINAL GIRL | FIFTEEN

You were his final girl.  And there was no chance in hell that anyone or anything was going to mess that up.

masterlist here | final girl playlist here

pairing: Billy Loomis x f!reader   word count: 4.9k warnings: mild s m u t towards the end (18+!!!)

A/N: I know I promised shower s e x but that’s in the next chapter, this one got away from me lmao 

p a r t   f i f t e e n  |  n o s t a l g i c 

Thom Yorke’s soothing voice sliced into the quietude of Billy’s car as he drove down your street with a swell of disappointment budding inside of his stomach. He should have called you before his impromptu little ride up to your place, but he’d been overzealous. He wanted, needed, to see you and the idea of punching in your number and waiting to hear if you were around felt like a waste of time.

But then he’d driven to your house, saw your mother was home, actually decided to ring the doorbell rather than slip into your bedroom like he would have any other day of the week and lo and behold you weren’t home.

Your mother had been nice enough to say that he could stay and wait for you but, not knowing how long you’d be gone for, Billy had opted on leaving.

So now, here he was. Barely registering the words to Creep as he buried a yawn into his fist and drove his sorry ass home.

He’d barely seen you at school that day between cheer practice and the fact that you’d skipped out on the last few periods to get that god forsaken cast off of your arm and fuck did he miss you. He’d always had it bad for you but lately it felt as though he couldn’t breathe right if he didn’t have you close to him. Maybe it was the fact that finallyhaving you all to himself felt more realistic now or maybe it was the fact that he didn’t feel the need to hide the bits of himself that he might have before.

You’d seen more of him than anyone else ever had and you were still here. You didn’t run away from him, didn’t cower, didn’t judge. You looked into that hole inside of him and smiled at the challenge. You accepted that darkness and bathed in it, let it coat every inch of your skin until it became a part of you, too.

He’d fucked his hand more times than he was willing to admit to that vision of you straddling that ugly fuck from that seedy bar. The wild abandon in your eyes, the brashness, the ferocity of your movements – you were lethal in those few seconds. With your teeth bared, you’d become an animal; unhinged, feral.

It was strange, really, strange and so fucking intoxicating because while you had that untamed darkness burning just beneath the surface of your skin, there was a softness, too. That effervescent, brilliant fucking side of you that drew everyone around you into your orbit. You were magnetic, you were the fucking sun, and yet you knew that darkness. The stark juxtaposition of having somebody harness the kind of light that you did all the while allowing that darkness to consume you enough to nearly kill a man – it was exciting and intoxicating and addicting

You were addicting.

Another yawn threatened to spill out of his lips as he pulled onto Madison Street but before he could let that disappointment settle inside of his stomach, there you were. His own little lighthouse, lighting up even the darkest pieces of him without even lifting a finger.

You were riding your bike, barely paying your surroundings a lick of attention as you balanced a massive cup with your left hand all the while steering the bike with your right. You’d always had this way about you, this effortless way that floored him time and time again and even then, as you brought the bright cup up to your lips and took a sip from the yellow straw, Billy was transfixed. You were lost in your own little world as you pedalled along the quiet suburban street, not a care in the world.

He slowed to a near crawl beside you, watching your face slowly morph into a cautious scowl but as he pulled under a streetlight, that gorgeous smile of yours broke out across your face as you came to a stop on the side of the road.

Ducking his head to get a better look at you from the driver’s seat, Billy chuckled. “Nice wheels,” he teased, smirking across at the pale blue bike. “What are you, like, twelve?”

“My car got wrapped around a pole, dick,” you laughed, “until I save up for a new one, this is it for me.” Your eyes narrowed in on him and then the car before glancing around your neighbourhood. “Last I checked, you’re a few blocks away from home, Loomis.”

Billy swept his eyes over your frame as you stood there, still hovering over your bike with your two feet planted firmly on the ground. Your cast was gone, that he noticed right off the bat, but it was your small little smile that made his own all the harder to bury. “Thought I’d visit my girlfriend, but she wasn’t home.”

“Oh,” you hummed, stealing another sip of your Slurpee. “Bummer.”

“I thought so, too,” he nodded to the bike, “where you headed, anyway?”

You waved the massive drink at him. “Fancied myself a Slurpee and then figured I’d zip around a bit now that I have full mobility of both my arms.”

Billy nodded his head and then reached across to unlock the passenger’s side door nearest you. “Up for some company?”

You seemed to consider his request, that smile never once leaving your face, before shrugging. “I don’t know, I’ve always been told to avoid getting into cars with strange men.”

“That’s good advice,” Billy smirked. “Smart.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. You both simply just continued to stare each other down with small, coy smiles staining your lips. Yeah, he was definitely a fucking goner when it came to you.

Finally, you swung your leg over your bike and gestured to the trunk. “You think she’ll fit in there?”

Shifting into Park, Billy hopped out of the car to help you pack it in. He wanted nothing more than to swing his arm around your shoulders and tug you against his chest, but he knew that wasn’t possible. You both did. Many of your peers lived on this fucking street and if any of them were to see you, that meant trouble.

He was past the point of caring, if he was being honest. He wanted the whole fucking world to know that you were his girl, but he knew you weren’t quite there yet because of your friendship with Sidney fucking Prescott and he knew he’d have to accept that if he had any hope in hell at making you two official. So, rather than greet you the way he wanted to greet you, rather than kiss you and touch you and taste you on his lips after half a week of going without you, he instead grazed his knuckle against your forearm in passing before giving you a small smile.

“I think it’ll fit just fine.”

Popping his trunk open, he managed to slide your bike in with only a little difficulty on account of the handlebars. “Jesus,” he squinted down at a worn-out sticker, along one of the bars. “Is this the same bike from when we were kids?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, “sure is.”

“Holy shit.” Without thinking, he ran his fingers along the dusty blue paint finish and shook his head in awe. In a blink, half a dozen memories flooded his mind of you on this damned bike throughout the years. And then, more so to himself, he muttered, “You’d go everywhere on this thing.”

You were just standing there, smiling across at him by the time his eyes found yours again and Billy had to reel his feelings for you in. Tame them, even for the time being, to avoid being the talk of the fucking town in school the next day. But, fuck, there was something about you tonight, standing there beneath that fucking streetlight, looking at him with those dreamy eyes of yours, that made that feel impossible. There was that pull, that magnetic charm, that just yanked him further and further into your orbit.

He nearly kissed you right then and there, neighbours be damned.

Subtly, or as subtly as he could, at least, he reached for your hand, shielded only by the shadow of his trunk and gave it a squeeze. Your smile deepened, as did his, as the pad of his thumb gently traced down the scab that ran along the center of your palm. It was the one reminder of that night, the night that the darkness took control.

A burst of excitement swelled behind his rib cage as image of you from that night played on repeat in his head.

“Come on, lover boy,” you winked, squeezing his hand once before dropping it to walk over to the passenger’s side of the car. “Let’s go for a ride.”

He watched you for a few seconds as you walked around the length of the car to hop into the front seat and as he cast a quick look over his shoulder to ensure nobody was watching, he smiled to himself as he closed his trunk and joined you inside of the car.

“How’s the wrist?” He asked, grabbing for your hand greedily as he tore off down the road.

You made a show of wriggling your fingers and gently flopping your wrist in his grasp. “Good as new.”

“Where do you feel like going?” He asked, casting a sidelong glance your way as he continued to drive. “Sky’s the limit.”

Your smile was broad and genuine as you lazily swung your head around to face him. “You were the one that grabbed me off the street,” you shrugged. “Surprise me.”

Billy mulled it over in his head in silence as he drove rather aimlessly down various roads and side streets. Woodsboro was only so big, there were only so many places he could take you, realistically, especially without somebody seeing the two of you, but as he continued to drive with the image of you on that the bike still cemented in his mind’s eye, he thought back to all of the places around town that held those kinds of memories.

The good memories; before his mother ran off, before everything went to shit. That life felt so fucking far away from where he was now, from all that he’d done and seen and felt.

Only one place came to mind. Or, at least, only one place felt right tonight. One lone place in all of Woodsboro that stood out as a safe haven for the two of you. He wasn’t even sure if it was still around, it had been years since he’d been last been there, but it was worth a shot.

Pulling onto Statton Avenue, Billy gave you another quick glance. “You remember that old house we’d always go to when we were, like, fifteen?”

You furrowed your brow. “That creepy ass one that Randy always dragged us to every Halloween?”

He blew a quiet laugh out through his nose. “Yeah. McKay’s place.”

You blinked. “You’re taking me to a decrepit, probably haunted house, as a surprise?” You shook your head in amusement. “Did I miss the old machete in your trunk that you’re going to use to gut me with or what?”

He smirked and nudged you with his elbow. “No, not inside the house. It had that old park behind it, remember?”

You narrowed your eyes in thought before slowly nodding your head. “Yeah, I remember.” You laughed quietly to yourself. “I was convinced you were going to kiss me on that fucking thing when we were younger.”

Billy’s eyebrows pulled up. “When?”

“That first time Randy brought us there,” you divulged. “You were doing your best to scare me and Tatum the entire night and then I left to sit on that thing because the smell of the house was getting to me, you followed me out.”

Billy thought back to that night. You’d all snuck some beer in with you, so most of the night was pretty foggy, but he remembered the exact moment you were talking about. Your head had been killing you because of the mould inside of that house and Randy and Stu were too fucking distracted by the idea of scaring the pants off of you girls to notice the moment you slipped out to get some air. You’d been dating some douchebag named Ryan at the time, but Billy had followed you out, regardless. He’d told himself it was to check on you, to make sure you didn’t pass out or something, but deep down it was more selfish than that.

He’d had a hard-on for you for years and there were moments where he was sure it was reciprocated. There had always been a trust between you, a bond, that the others couldn’t quite meet. Even that year, when he’d started having some feelings for Sid, you were always on his mind. But timing, circumstance, it never seemed to be on your side.

That night, however, he was going to make his move.

You’d looked so fucking pretty and the way you kept grabbing for his arm whenever Randy would try and scare you, Billy knew there was something there. In his gut, he just knew.

But he’d pussied out last second. He could remember sitting there beside you on that old, dingy looking platform beneath the monkey bars. You were side-by-side, leg-to-leg, he could feel your body heat through his jeans, but even as your eyes found his that night, even as he watched you subtly coat your lips with your tongue, he didn’t do a damned thing about it.

He couldn’t. It was like his body just stopped working and the moment ended up passing as Sid and Tatum’s screams rang out from the house, followed by maniacal laughter from Stu and Randy.

“I was going to kiss you that night,” he admitted.

You gave him a small, amused smile. “And yet you didn’t.”

His shoulders fell. “No, I didn’t. I chickened out last second.”

“In fact, you started dating Sid a few months later, I think.” Your smile fell, but you had a way of disguising it that nearly buckled him.

He hated himself in that moment. If he had kissed you that night, imagine how fucking easy it would be now. You wouldn’t have to sneak around like this, he wouldn’t be taking you to some decrepit fucking park in the middle of the night. You’d be it. The two of you could openly show Woodsboro how fucking much you loved each other.

If he had kissed you that night, things would have been so fucking different – but that’s not the way things turned out. He hadn’t kissed you, he had started dating Sidney only to have you break up with Ryan a few weeks later. The timing of everything had always been against you and now here he was.

Sneaking around, hiding you as though you were something he had to be ashamed of when, in reality, it was just the opposite. You were it for him. You were his girl, his final fucking girl, and he needed the world to know that.

He needed you to know that.

In no time at all, Billy was pulling down the vaguely familiar stretch of road that lead to that creepy old house. The driveway had long since grown out, tall grass and dead shrubbery lined the tattered driveway and half of the old house had now crumbled into the main floor, its mahogany walls could be seen from the sheen of Billy’s car headlights.

“That’s not horrifying at all,” you mumbled, sliding out of the passenger’s seat in uncertainty.

For a moment, neither of you moved an inch, both of you seemed to just soak the vision of that tattered old house up as though reliving every single memory you once had inside of it a lifetime ago.

Slowly, your eyes met from across the top of the car. “You promise this isn’t a ploy to kill me?”

Billy raised a single eyebrow and watched you with interest as he closed his door. You watched him with a small smile on your face as he walked around the car towards you, and as he reached around to close your door, caging you against it in the process, a salacious and dark smile crept across his lips.

“I can’t tell you all my secrets,” he whispered, giving your neck a quick bite. “Where’s the fun in that?”  

You shivered and curled your arms around his neck as he pulled back to give your lips a chaste kiss. A few strands of his hair fell in front of his hair and, on instinct alone, you swiped them back and bumped your nose against his. “I mean there’s a little fun in knowing you won’t get bludgeoned to death by your boyfriend at a decrepit house that he almost kissed you at once upon a time.”

“Bludgeoned?” He asked, swaying you in place. “What happened to the machete in my trunk?”

You seemed to consider this momentarily before glancing at the house. “Maybe you came prepared with a whole arsenal, I don’t know.”

Cocking his head to the side, Billy’s eyes narrowed in on your face as the two of you continued to stand there with only the breeze blowing between you. “I would never hurt you,” he simply said, “you know that right?”

“I do,” you hummed. “Even if we get tetanus at some point tonight.”

With some difficulty, on account of the newly acquired orange safety fencing now surrounding the property, the two of you managed to find that old park. For the most part, it looked the same; rusty and a little worse for wear, but essentially the same with its questionable slide and broken swings.

With a small smile, you carefully walked up the small platform with Billy’s hands circled around your hips, steering you over the wooden slats as the two of you tested your weight. The wood gave out quiet groans, making each step slightly nerve-wracking had it not been for the assurance of Billy’s fingers ghosting across your skin.

Eventually, you made it to that familiar stoop. The one just beneath the monkey bars that the two of you sat on all those years prior. It was strange being back. There wasn’t a shred of scenery that hadn’t been touched by time in some way or another. The house was in bits, the grass was now up to your thighs and the monkey bars were visibly sadder than they ever had been and yet sitting there, just the two of you, felt as though no time had transpired at all.

Billy could still feel the heat of your skin burning through his jeans as you sat there leg-to-leg, and as another gentle breeze blew, bringing with it the stale scent of mould from the dilapidated house, memories of that night so fucking long ago burned into his mind as clear as day.

“It’s weird being back here,” you began, leaning your head against Billy’s shoulder. “Just as creepy as I remember.”

“It is weird,” Billy echoed, reaching his arm out to let it fall around your shoulders. He tugged you into his side and ghosted his lips across your hairline.

Silence fell over the pair of you before Billy felt you shift beside him. “See this is what I thought you were coming out here to do that night,” you goaded, pinching his thigh.

Billy groaned dramatically and, without hesitation, cupped your chin and tilted your face up towards his. Peppering kisses along your cheeks and down your nose, he gave you a small, crooked smile before dipping his head down to kiss your lips. The kiss was short - innocent, even - but he relished in how soft your lips felt against his own.

When he pulled back, he bumped your nose and twirled a strand of your hair between his fingers as your foreheads met. “For what it’s worth, that’s what I wanted to do that night.”

Seemingly enough for you, all you did was smile and fall back against his chest as you both sat there, watching the tall grass bend and blow with every gentle breeze. He was tempted to let the silence spawn between the two of you, to simply enjoy the feeling of you pressed up tightly against him as you sat on that familiar park set, but there were a thousand things that Billy wanted to say. A thousand unspoken words that had been on the tip of his tongue for months that, tonight, seemed almost impossible to snuff out.

“If I’d kissed you that night,” Billy muttered, staring straight ahead at the empty space where a window once sat. “Things would have ended up so fucking different.”

“Maybe,” you muttered. “But no point in dwelling on it now, right? We’re here now. We’re together, even if it’s fucking messy, now. If you’d have kissed me that night, maybe we’d have broken up by now.” Pulling away from him his shoulder, you glanced across at him and ran your fingers along his cheekbone. “Maybe we would have tried our hand at dating and decided that we fucking hate each other.”

Billy shook his head and grabbed your hand. “That’s impossible.”

“Maybe,” you said again. “But, I stand by what I said. We’re together now, right?”

Billy watched you teeter off to the side, testing your weight again as you stood up to your full height. In confusion, his brows puckered as he watched you briefly glance around the empty, overgrown lawn, before those eyes found his once again.

“What are you doing?” He asked huskily.

Your fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt and Billy’s pulse quickened. And when you peeled your shirt off, exposing a black bra, Billy forgot how to breathe. “What are the odds that we have an audience right now?”

He swallowed hard, but his eyes never left yours. “Maybe a couple of ghosts,” he pushed out, Adam’s apple bobbing.

You grinned across at him and worked on your jeans next. In truth, the entire population of Woodsboro could have been watching and he wouldn’t have noticed. Wouldn’t have even bat a goddamn eye. The only thing he saw was you.

“Take your clothes off, baby,” you simply said, stepping out of your jeans.

He didn’t waste a second in stripping down to his boxers and as he slung them down his thighs, not caring about anything else in that moment besides the promise of you and that body, he just barely managed to slide his shirt beneath his bare ass to avoid needing a tetanus shot after everything was said and done.

Slowly, you stepped towards him as he helped you back onto the platform. Pushing your thong to the side, you carefully crawled up his lap and grinned as Billy’s dept fingers dug into your hips as you clambered up his strong thighs, holding you there and savouring exactly how you felt in that moment.

Reaching around, you unclasped your bra and let it fall to the wooden slats beside you. “No use dwelling on the past when we’ve got each other now, right?”

He was rock hard beneath you, desperate and straining, and the fact that he could feel just how wet you were, how warm that pussy felt against his thigh, made his grip on your hips tighten. He needed to make you feel how much he wanted you, needed you.  

“Right,” his voice was gruff.

He felt your hands grabbing his, guiding him to your body as though he needed the help. As though he hadn’t already memorized every inch of your perfect body before tonight. But he didn’t stop you, instead he watched in want as you slowly placed his chilled hands on your breasts. Your nipples were pert, the buds hardening even more at his touch.

You smiled and Billy could feel his heartbeat in his ears.  

Gently, he massaged your breasts and rolled your nipples between his fingers. The sound of your moans, soft but constant, made his already rock-hard cock twitch with a hunger so primal he saw stars. A growl escaped his throat as ducked his head down to wrap his mouth around your nipple while his other hand continued to massage your other tit.

The moans he got out of you, time and time again, were enough to kill him.

“Billy,” you moaned his name, your harsh hiss sliced into the silence around you. “Fuck.”

Reaching down, you swirled his precum around the length of his cock before teasingly sliding the head of his cock between your folds, paying close attention to your clit.

Sucking in a greedy, sharp breath, Billy moved his assault to your other nipple and bit down. No matter how tight he held you there against him, no matter how much of your naked body he felt and touched and kissed, nothing was close enough.

His large hands splayed out across your back, guiding you further into his hungry mouth as your soaked cunt teased him. You were so wet and so needy for him. Fuck, you felt so fucking good already and you hadn’t even granted him to mercy of lowering yourself down onto his awaiting cock.

“You’re a fucking tease,” he whispered against your breast. “You know that?”

He felt you laugh as you squirmed against him. Quickening your pace on his cock, he slid his hands around your waist and held you there as he kissed his way up from your breasts and along your neck.

You writhed on top of him as he nipped and sucked on the tender flesh. If you weren’t careful, he was going to come hard and fast but, seemingly sensing his frustration boiling beneath his skin, you sat up a little taller and finally allowed his cock to spring to action before lowering yourself on top of him.

A low, guttural moan escaped your lips as his thick cock pierced you. Squeezing his eyes shut, his forehead fell against your bare shoulder as he tried like hell to gather himself but fuck you were making it damned near impossible. You just felt so fucking perfect, so warm and so tight against him, that it was taking everything not to grab you and hold you there as he pumped into that perfect cunt.

How could you make him feel this much? You had him, entirely. There wasn’t a future Billy could conceive without you in it.  His every waking thought was of you. You, you, you. It should have scared him, how much he truly fucking loved you and, in a way, it did. It terrified him some days.

But then he’d see you, feel you, taste you and that fear was gone.

Every little thing you did made him fall harder. When he slept, he dreamt of you. When he woke, he thought of you. Thought of that crooked little smile of yours, thought of that unhinged side of you that only he got to see. He thought of that darkness, that innate danger just boiling beneath the surface of it all and he was a fucking goner.

Slowly, you began to ride him but, while the feeling of you sliding up and down on his cock felt like a drug, his hands circled around your hips and held you there against him.

Stilling you almost immediately.

“Is something wrong?” Your breathless voice asked.

He shook his head and slowly circled his arms around your middle, holding you against him in the middle of that park. Nuzzling his face into your breasts, Billy held you against him, memorizing every inch of you as his cock filled you up.

“It’s me and you, baby,” he breathed out, coffee-coloured eyes traced every inch of your face. “No matter what, right? Do you promise me?”

You nodded, eyes hazy. Hungry. “I promise.”

“Say it,” he pleaded, nipping your chin. “I want to hear you say it.”

“You and me,” you echoed in a hushed whisper, “no matter what.”

Pushing his dark hair back and away from his face, you said nothing before leaning down and kissing him. It was gentle but needy, soft but hungry. Slowly, he released you, but your lips never strayed far from one another. Even as you commenced riding him, revelling in the feel of just how good he felt with every bound, your kisses were fevered and hungry.

Time lost all meaning after that and nothing, not the ghosts in that old house, not a damned thing, could tear the two of you apart. Nothing was guaranteed, he knew that to his core. But he knew you, knew your relationship, felt your love for him and felt his love for you and somehow, that was enough. One way or another, everything would work out for the two of you.

It had to.

He’d make sure of it.

taglist: @wilsonsbuck @mephistopheloser @undcrthcmoon @carlywhomever @vivifruit @iamsherlocki-wholocked @would-not-recommend @marisughh @popcornpoppin @ambria @bubblebuttwade @moose-squirrel-asstiel @blackundertaker @knoxdallas @wifeofenjorltaire @halloweenscream @padf00ts-l0ver @lalisala @racyreverie @onfiretakemehigher @rileyloomis @twistedinbliss @i-love-scott-mccall @viennasolace @imrubio03 @agustdboyoongie @fate-huntress @blackslash @vacayghostface​

#billy loomis fanfiction #Billy Loomis #scream billy #billy loomis scream #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x you #billy loomis x fem!reader #Stu Macher x Billy Loomis x reader #scream #scream 1996 #slasher boyfriend #ghostface #ghostface x you #ghostface x reader #final girl

[invalid-prongs]

“For who could ever learn to love a beast?” from Beauty and the Beast, except I’m making it Starchaser because I miss writing about them </3 Also, the Gryffindor password is “venom of the snake” but in Italian, just in case you didn’t know.

It burns far worse than Regulus thought it would. He keeps wondering if there’s something wrong with it—there’s no way it should burn so much after having weeks to heal.

He clutches his left forearm between his thighs in an attempt to ease the pain and bites into his right hand to stop himself crying out. It’s kind of late and waking up his dormmates doesn’t seem like a bright idea.

Asking his parents for help is useless—they would just tell him to get on with it surely. The look of disappointment in his brother’s eyes would be too much to bare. Who else could he turn to?

With a deep, shaking breath and silent tears trickling down his face, he slowly peels back the covers of his bed and slips out from the green and silver sheets. He scans the room to make sure the other lads in the room are fast asleep before pulling his right hand from his mouth and using it to grasp his wand.

Regulus waits until he’s stood outside of the Slytherin entrance before waving his wand and muttering “Lumos” under his breath. The wand lights his way down the endless corridors as he drags himself around the castle, thinking of places to go. The burning in his arm doesn’t cease, even when he presses it to the cool stone walls and steps outside in the softly raining night.

It hurts and adds another layer of regret onto the Slytherin lad.

After what feels like hours of aimless wandering, too scared to visit the hospital wing, Regulus turns to head back to his dorm room. He can suffer through the next few weeks, and if it gets exceptionally bad, he can go to Hogsmeade one weekend and find something to help.

Before he can reach the Slytherin quarters, however, he’s stopped by the light tinkering of footsteps heading straight for him. He gasps softly, waving his wand behind his back. “Knox,” he mumbles, pressing himself flat against the wall as another figure steps around the corner.

“Hello?” a voice calls out and Regulus curses himself silently for picturing them in his mind. “Hey, is somebody there? You can come out, you know, I’m not a teacher or anything.”

Regulus takes a daring breath but doesn’t reveal himself. The person chuckles softly. “Hey, come on, don’t make me feel crazy.”

There’s nothing else for a few moments as Regulus screws his eyes shut and holds a hand to his mouth to muffle his breathing. But then there’s a lit wand in his face and the wide grin of one James Potter. “Gotcha. What are you doing out here at this time of night, Reg?”

He swallows thickly, trying to hold back the pain in his voice. “M-My name is R-Regulus, y-you know.”

James’s elegant face twists slightly. “Hey, are you alright? You sound like you’ve been crying?”

The Slytherin clamps his lips shut and shakes his head, but the Gryffindor isn’t fooled. He reaches softly for Regulus’s arm—his left one since it’s the closest—but it’s snatched away quickly.

They stare at each other for a few moments, wide eyes. James’s expression is hard for Regulus to decipher; he’s hurt, confused, and it causes the younger lad’s guilt to flare. James steps back slightly, allowing Regulus to fall out of the shadows.

“It’s hurting you, isn’t it?” James whispers into the darkness, and all Regulus can do is nod pathetically and whimper. James sighs and runs a hand through his unruly hair, assessing the situation. After a moment, he sighs again and holds out his hand. “Come on, come with me.”

He doesn’t trust James fully—what if he takes him to Madam Pomphrey, or worse, Dumbledore? But Regulus takes his hand anyway and lets himself be pulled in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

“Veleno del serpente,” he nods to the portrait, who twists her nose at the sight of a Slytherin buts lets them through anyway. Regulus is terrified of entering, because he’s sure there’s a rule specifically against entering the wrong house even on accident.

There’s probably a rule against having the Dark Mark, too, he figures to himself, ad follows James down the small tunnel. When they step into the empty common room, Regulus is hit with the warmth and comfort of the place, and the fire roars to life.

“Wait here,” the elder pushes him onto one of the sofas and wraps a blanket around his shoulders. “I’ll be right back, okay?” he disappears up the spiral staircase and Regulus just sits there, his eyes trained on the burning fire.

He thinks he should probably look around. Investigate the mighty Gryffindor house whilst he can. But his left forearm is turning numb, and not for a good reason, and his shoulder feels like it’s carrying the weight of a brick. He inhales sharply, willing himself not to cry again, and James reappears from the stairs with a small tray and a box.

“My mum is a healer,” he explains slowly, setting everything down on the coffee table and kneeling in front of Regulus. “She taught me some things, and I always have supplies for Quidditch accidents and such. Can I see your arm?”

Regulus pulls his left arm behind his back and shakes his head. He himself has avoided looking it as it as much as he can, and the thought of showing it to not anybody, but the proudest Gryffindor on the planet who is violently against everything Death Eater related…

But James’s  eyes are so soft and welcoming, and when he smiles gently and whispers, “I won’t judge you, I want to help you, Reg,” his voice is like velvet, and all Regulus can do is offer forward his arm and turn his head.

“I’m sorry,” Regulus chokes out when James gasps softly. “I didn’t—I had no choice.”

James simply shushes him softly by resting a hand on his knee before getting to work. Every movement is fluid and gentle, as if he’s cleaning a priceless artifact, and not just helping to stop the burning of a Dark Mark. It doesn’t hurt much, just a few stings, but it feels uncomfortable when James waves his wand over the snake and it writhes on the younger’s arm.

He tenses and automatically pulls away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” James soothes him softly. “I just needed to cast a spell, but I guess it didn’t like that.” He chuckles softly, and Regulus takes enough comfort in the sound to let a smile tug at his lips.

“Guess it didn’t.”

James works for a few more minutes, and by time he’s finished, Regulus can barely feel the mark. James flicks his arm experimentally, and Regulus flinches softly, so he’s assured he hasn’t lost all feeling in his arm.

Their eyes meet for a moment, flickering with the fire in the background. “How can I repay you?” Regulus asks gently. “I—you really didn’t have to help me. I’m sorry if this made you… uncomfortable.”

“You don’t have to repay me with anything. I would hate for you to be in any kind of pain, love.”

At the slip of the name, Regulus blushes softly and James clears his throat. They look away for a moment until the Slytherin dares to peers through his eyelashes to see James staring straight at him.

“I missed you,” he mumbles before he can stop himself, almost smiling at the way James cocks an eyebrow in questioning. “Over the summer. I kept thinking of you. I was… I was half tempted to come and see you before… but I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

James tentatively reaches up a hand and wipes a tear Regulus didn’t know was falling. “It’s okay, I understand. I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you I missed you too. Sirius is nice, but he isn’t quite the same.” He winks at the end of his sentence, and Regulus can’t help spitting out a small giggle.

James bites his bottom lip softly, one hand still on the younger lad’s face, the other moving to rest on his knee again. Regulus knows they have a lot to talk about, and probably won’t get it done in one night. He knows he should be going before someone finds his empty bed or walks into the Gryffindor common room. But instead, he bats his eyelashes at James and tips his head down ever so slightly.

“Can I…” he trails off softly, waiting for James to pull away, maybe even yell at him about how he’s a Death Eater and they’re on opposite sides and they can’t.

But James doesn’t. Instead, he nods so softly that if he didn’t whisper a soft “yes” then Regulus would have thought he imagined it.

Their lips connect in harmony, and they melt together like they did every other time they did this. It’s as easy as anything, and Regulus can feel every negative emotion, every horrible feeling be flooded with the absolute adoration he has for the boy in front of him.

And then Regulus pulls back sharply to stare at James with his eyes wide and jaw slackened because he’s in love with him.

“Sorry,” James rocks back on his feet and pulls himself up off the floor. “Fuck, uhm, I’m so sorry, I didn’t… we can just… I don’t…”

“I love you,” Regulus whispers, raw and rough, and James shuts his mouth, honey-brown eyes snapping to meet an ocean of grey-blue. “I-I’m sorry, but I love you.”

James doesn’t reply straight away. He just sinks onto the sofa and reaches out, running a finger against Regulus’s bottom lip, which is red and slightly swollen. And then he smiles wider than he ever has, pearly white teeth almost blinding the room, and he laughs.

“Don’t be sorry, don’t ever be sorry. I love you too,” he replies, and Regulus reaches up a pale, aristocratic hand on James’s. “I love you more.”

The younger lad goes to protest, but his words are swallowed by another kiss, and when he wakes in the morning, stretched on the sofa with his limbs tangled with James’s, all he can do is smile and thank whoever controls fate that after everything that has happened, given everything that is and will happen, he’s found somebody who can still love him.

#jegulus #regulus black #james potter #james x regulus #regulus x james #death eater #dark mark #angst #fluff #one shot #harry potter #marauders #gryffindor #slytherin #jegulus one shot #starchaser #starchaser one shot

[ashintheairlikesnow]

him halting over words and nat gently encouraging him to keep going and assuring him he doesn’t have to be embarrassed and he’s doing well, the baby isn’t judging she just wants to hear chris’s voice. and he can keep going 🥺

CW: Brief reference to past pet whump/noncon, adult illiteracy, some stimming, referenced parental death

Naomi and Natalie are in the kitchen talking over lunch, eating grilled cheese and tomato soup while they plan some kind of party for Miss Ruth that the old woman isn't supposed to know about.

Their voice filter softly through to the living room where Chris sits, legs crossed, humming while lining up a set of blocks from darkest to lightest color. He's already eaten, and so has Kaelah, Naomi's daughter. He could have gone back to his room, but instead he decided to watch Kaelah, and felt himself melt happily when Naomi didn't even hesitate before saying it was okay for him to be alone with her in the living room.

He was never trained for Domestic or Companion work - he was never meant to be wanted for those things, only for one other thing, the thing he never wanted - but he likes kids, and they seem to like him, and he likes that Naomi thinks he is a good person, good enough and smart enough to not hurt something so precious to her.

He's proud, and nervous, and Kaelah has already tried to pull a small pile of books down over her own head. But he caught those before they fell, so he still feels pretty good about it all.

Now, they're playing blocks, although mostly Kaelah is ordering him around while he lines them up. But it's like playing. And lining the blocks up in a perfect row is soothing, and feels good.

It's right for them to line up just so, turned at right angles to each other on the ends.

Kaelah - two years old with frizzy dark curly hair and bright big brown eyes - is watching Chris with rapt fascination as he works. She has a matching unicorn t-shirt and leggings on, and Chris would wear unicorn shirts if there were any in his size.

Or if Jake wore them, because they'd be safe shirts, then.

"Wed," Kaelah says, solemn and demanding, and smacks at a big red block. "Wed, K'iss."

"Red," Chris says, softly, emphasizing the R sound, and taps on the block, then picks it up and adds it to the line. "That's, that's, that's red... red block."

"Wed," Kaelah agrees, and smacks the block again.

"Good, um, good color, good, good color, Kay," Chris says, and finds another red block to place next to the first one. "Reds, reds are good."

Jake is out with Addie, and Antoni let Kauri take him shopping at Kauri's favorite thrift store. Leila is out with who Chris thinks is her boyfriend, not that Leila tells anyone anything ever. It's just Chris and Natalie, Naomi and Kaelah.

The toddler pushes herself to her feet and walks with an unsteady gait back to the big bag that the blocks came from, pulling things out to discard on the floor without looking, clearly on a mission.

Chris watches, head tilted, hair over his eyes. He's been growing his hair longer, and the copper brushes almost to his shoulders. Some days he holds it back with a clip.

Sir would hate his hair this long, but Chris likes it, likes the swoosh of the end of the strands along his skin if he tilts his head just right, the soft weight on the back of his neck so unlike his collar. A weight he can lift just by pulling it back. A weight he controls.

Sir would hate his earrings, too, two black studs punched in his earlobes and then one tiny silver ring up in the shell on the right side. He wants one in the cartilage, too, but he has to work up the courage to look at the needle again.

Kaelah pulls out stuffed ponies in rainbow colors and a brown fuzzy monster with disturbingly real-looking teeth she calls her "ugler friend", a small bag of glow in the dark unicorns in flat green, GI Joe's, a firetruck that makes siren noises and lights if you press a button on the side, a confused looking plastic fireman, and then finally a box larger than her own head, with big thick cardboard pages.

"Weed, K'iss," Kaelah says, toddling back over with the book clutched in her chubby fingers, dropping it without ceremony directly into his feet. "Weed. Weed now, weed, weed, K'iss!"

Chris runs his fingers over the smooth shiny cover, squinting against the first hint of a headache when he looks at the seemingly hand-drawn letters in yellow layered over green and blue and red. "Good, goodnight Moon," He says haltingly out loud.

Kaelah grins, flashing little baby teeth, clapping. "Moon book!" Then she makes her eyes very big and says, "Pleaaase Moon Book?"

Chris's heart skips a beat, nerves sparking over his arms, but he gives a faint smile and nods. He can do this. The book isn't so many pages, and he's been working so, so hard. He hasn't passed out trying to read in weeks now. Last week he even read Kauri a whole poem.

Kaelah plops herself right down in Chris's lap, snuggling her back right into his chest, her soft frizz of hair tickling his narrow chin. Chris opens the book and looks down, taking a deep breath.

His head hurts in warning, but it's not too bad. And if he's going to be able to go to college, he's going to have to be able to read to take the test for it.

When he starts to read, he feels a strange sense of being somewhere else, a long time ago, and that he isn't the one reading but the one being read to.

"In, in the... The gr... Guh-errrr... gr-ate... great green, green room there was a, a, a... a tuh-ehl... tele... telephone, and a red buh, balloon... and a pick-... picture of the cow juh-... juh-humping oh, over the moon..."

His voice is low and halting, and Chris has to push through the static and ache that tells him not to do this, it's against training, against policy, it's not allowed. He hates his reading voice, slow and stumbling, sounding out phonetics. He's eighteen years old, almost nineteen he thinks, and he can't read.

His lips press together, fighting the sadness and anger. Chris isn't angry very much - he's too happy for that. But sometimes happiness at what he has still gets all mixed up with his furious grief over everything he must have lost.

Whoever he used to be could read, he knows that. Whoever he used to be could read, and do math problems that didn't involve pictures of apples, and wouldn't have to struggle to read to a little girl the easiest book in the whole world.

This is your favorite, huh, baby?

The memory of her voice has been worse when he reads, but he doesn't tell anyone.

He's afraid if he tells, he'll stop hearing it again. He doesn't know whose voice it is, not exactly - sometimes he does but then the memory is gone again and he forgets - but he knows he loved her, and she's dead, and her voice is all he has to hold onto.

"I'm sorry," He whispers. "I'm, I'm, not... not not a good reader."

Kaelah, thumb in her mouth, turns to look at him and pops her thumb out. "K'iss," She says, firmly. "Weed, K'iss. Bun bun kitty."

"I, I know-" He's not sure how, but he does, he does know there's bunnies and a kitten and mittens and the old lady still whispering 'hush'... "I'm just, just, so bad, and-"

"Keep going, honey." Nat's voice is soft from the doorway and he looks up to see her leaning against it with one hand, in her usual jeans and shirt. Her shirt says PEARL JAM and Chris tenses as he realizes he read the words without thinking.

It didn't hurt any worse than the other reading already has.

"Keep it up." She smiles down at him, her brown hair carefully braided and laying over one shoulder. "You're doing great, Chris."

"But, but, but, but I, I, I keep having to... to-to sound it out," Chris says, slumping a little.

Kaelah smacks the open book with her hands. "K'iss more!"

"She doesn't mind that," Nat says gently. "She just likes your voice, and you. Take your time. Everybody starts somewhere, and you've already gotten over the biggest speed bump."

Chris swallows, looking down again. "I, I have?"

She nods and Chris licks at his lips, moving his finger to find the words to start again.

"And... and there, there were three little bears sitting on chairs-"

Oh, I did all those without sounding it out, he thinks, with a stab of something like a sharp pride.

"-and two little kittens and a pair of, of, of mittens..."

He turns the page and Kaelah takes up sucking her thumb again. Chris is aware of Nat still watching from the doorway, the warm and reassuring weight of her presence, and how badly he wants her to be proud of him.

"And a, a little toy house and a young mow, mouse..."

You got this, sweetie, you're doing so good! I'm so proud of you, reading so early! Screw your doctors, baby boy, we got this, you and me! Screw 'em for saying you wouldn't read!

Chris lets the elation in the voice of the woman he doesn't remember carry him through the rest of the words when he turns the pages again, bit by bit.

"And a comb and a br, brush and, and, and a bowl full of mush... And, and a quiet old lay-... lay-dee... lady who was, was whis-... whis-perrrr... whispering, 'hush'."

Goodnight room, reads a tiny boy's voice inside his mind, as the headache throbs but doesn't stop him.

"Goodnight room," He whispers, echoing the boy, the memory of someone he isn't anymore. "Goodnight moon. Goodnight cow jumping over the, the moon."

Kaelah pats his hand with hers. Her little fingers are always damp. "Good job, K'iss," She encourages him.

Chris looks up to see Nat's smile.

"Good job, Chris," Nat says, and he breathes in the praise, lets it settle in his bones and rush through his blood.

In his head, somewhere deeper than the conditioned ache, she whispers, Good job, Tris, I'm so proud of you.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary

#whump #recovery whump #recovering whumpee #chris the strawberry blond romantic #referenced parental death #referenced past noncon #box boy #box boy multiverse #box boy universe #neurodivergent whumpee #natalie yoder: here to help the rescues #adult illiteracy tw #deconditioning #conditioning #trauma recovery #memory loss #fluff #angsty fluff

[too-scared-to-do-this]

Prestige

Chapter four -Tiny crumbs of imperfection

Sanders side fanfiction

Idea by: @hestianerd1

Wordcount: 2133

Pairings: prinxiety

TW: !!! It’s not so well written (and I’m not sure how accurate it is), but there is a pretty big part about verbal abuse and a car accident so if that is something you can’t read skip to the part where the slanted text stops !!! Besides that there is a full on panic attack scene, a long rant about dyslexia and it’s annoyingness, cursing and just some light teasing. If I’ve missed any, don’t hesitate to let me know!

The summery of the whole story: Prestige. Such a simple construct. All you have to do is act the way you want people to perceive you, keep up the image, wear a big proud smile and never ever dare make a mistake. That’s why Weltingston Heights University is such a well known school. Everybody knows that anyone who got in must have some prestige tied to their name. Educational records, family history, or even literal fame. So why not treat students the same way? Because what’s a little more pressure on their young and strong bones?

But prestige and image are precious things. You slip up even the tiniest bit, step out of the line you drew for yourself and it’s all gone. So now that the pressure is on, and everyone already knows their place in this small circle of society, only one question remains. How far are they willing to go to keep the false image up?

(Or: Very over-dramatically with a noticeable amount of sarcastic undertone: "Oh my god! They were roommates!")

-------------------------------------

Chapter four - Tiny crumbs of imperfection

“You fucking useless piece of shit! I’ve told you hundreds of times to-“

“Virgil. Headphones.” Raimond ordered. His voice meant nothing but business - cold and determined. No room for discussion. Virgil knew better then to oppose his big brother. He reached for his backpack sitting next to him on the back seat.

“Why should he? A fuck-p like him would just benefit from this. You see Virgil, if you don’t want to end up weak and completely useless, like you brother here, you should listen. Or maybe you-“

“Now.” and this time there was an urgency to his brother’s voice. Pushing out all the acidy sweetness of Richards’s words. Virgil’s finger’s shook as he pulled the headphones out of the bag quickly.

“Playing big rother now, are we?” Richard scoffed. “Where were you when your father ran? How fucked-up of a family do you have to be to drive that man away.”

Virgil heard that. Even through his headphones, he heard it. Richard’s voice wasn’t exactly easy to toon out. Low and loud, bouncing of every wall and surface, making the hair on you back stand.

Virgil Hated his step-father. More then anything. And judging by the white-knuckled grip Rai had on the steering wheel, he did too.

No matter how ‘nice’ this man pretended to be when sober. A drunk Richard was a disgusting, unbearable, suffocating man.

Virgil put his music louder. Blasting whatever was on his phone at the moment at full volume. Maybe that would drown this out. Maybe that would stop Richard from saying all these things to him and his brother…

But no… Richard’s mouth was still moving, words still spilling out into the tight air in the car. Suffocating everybody.

In the rearview mirror, Virgil could see the tight squeeze of Rai’s lips. The way his jaw was set. The way he was just seconds ago from bursting.

But they both new better. They both knew that wouldn’t help.

So, Rai’s nostrils flared. Chest expanding with a deep breath. And then those tightlipped three calm words left his mouth. Virgil didn’t need to hear them to know what they were. It was a well-rehearsed script by now. “You are drunk.”

“No shit, sherlock! At least that’s better than whatever you’re fucking doing with your meaningless pitiful life.” would usually come next. Rai would just swallow, keep his head high. Then glance and Virgil and take them both out for ice-cream or the park. Rai loved the park.

But this time… This time something went wrong…

There was a different look on his stepfather’s face. Not the usual furrowed-browed, sneering ‘I’m so done with this bullshit’ kind of face.

No. This time was different. This time it was pure hate and disgust. And suddenly, his lips were moving. And his hand was moving. And through all the music and movement, Virgil heard it. His shout. “You ungrateful moron!”

And Richard’s hand was on the steering-wheel. And Raimonds eyes went wide with panic. For the first time in his life, Virgil saw his brother completely terrified.

His glassed blue eyes immediately shot to the rearview mirror, searching for his little brother. Trying to tell him to hold on, but no words found their way out in time…

That pull of the car. That loud noise. And then it was dark.

-

“Hhhhh!!!!” Virgil shot up in bed gasping for air.

He couldn’t breathe! He couldn’t fucking breathe! He couldn’t-

“Virgil?” there was a voice somewhere in the distance. From behind thick glass.

He needed to take a breath! Come on Virgil, breathe!

“Hey… Virgil…” this time Virgil heard it. Still from behind that glass, but it was there. the voice. A hand on his shaking shoulder.

He was shaking?

“Listen to me okay?”

And he tried. He really did. But the thick glass was getting thicker by the moment, voice lost with it.

The touch getting lighter and lighter until he could barely feel of that hand on his shoulder.

Until all he could hear were his thorn up breaths and suffering lungs. His heart in his ear, blood rushing.

Until all that was in front of his eyes were those big blue eyes. Panicked.

All he could hear was the screeching of tired. The loud noise. Humming.

Humming. Virgil’s mind stopped spinning for a moment. Humming?

He focused on that. On that unknown melody that somehow broke throw the thick wall. Brough back the heavy hand on his shoulder.

Brough back the air that got sucked out of his lungs.

Humming.

Virgil opened his eyes, still beathing heavily. But at least breathing.

It was dark, yes. But the moon shone through the window, breaking up every sell of that overwhelming dark from before. Making it so much easier to see Roman sitting in front of him, smiling lightly. Never stopping his hum.

Even in this not-so-much-dark Virgil could see the concern and relief in his eyes. It was so obvious. Roman could literally never hide anything. It just wasn’t possible.

It was still harder to keep the air down. Even harder to move or just stop shaking. He listened to Roman hum his toon over and over again, the sound swallowing Virgil whole.

Soothing his panicked mind. Blocking out all the memories.

He uncurled slightly, letting his numb limbs rest after the tight embrace they held him in.

That’s when Romans toon stopped. And his hand pulled away. “Better?”

Virgil didn’t yet trust his voice. (And after this fiasco, he wasn’t sure he ever was going to again!) So, he just nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The tall one offered, as if this was the most normal thing two ‘mortal enemies’ (as he put it earlier) could do.

Virgil just shook his head.

“Alright then.” Ro shrugged like ‘whatever’ with a kind smile and stood up to walk back to his bed.

It was pretty late anyways. But neither of them had class in the morning, so who cares really.

And that moment - that one moment when Ro stood up and made his first step - was the moment V’s limbs decided to work again. He doesn’t even know how or when, but he was reaching out, grabbing onto his hand. “Can you… can you stay and talk for a little bit?”

And, oh my god, that look in V’s eyes! Even if Roman would have wanted to say no (which he didn’t, obviously - this man might be his mortal-enemy, but not even he deserves that much cruelty), he wouldn’t be able to. In those dark broody eyes, that always cast cold glares at him was this need, this silent plea.

And so Roman smiled this soft smile and sat back onto the bed. “Sure.”

He knew the drill by heart. This wasn’t his first rodeo. Virgil wasn’t about to force himself to talk, so this was up to Roman. Thankfully, he was the master of endless rants about pretty much nothing!

And so, it started. “I love writing so much! And acting - obviously. My dream is to be this big actor and playwright one day! You know - have my name on the script, cast on Broadway and stuff. I just kind of find it ironic, since the one thing I love I can’t really do. Not acting, obviously - I’m awesome at that!” he smirked self-assured and confident. Virgil made this sound with his nose - blew out some air as if laughter. And roman took it as a win. “I’m talking about writing. Like, literally. No matter how hard I try, grammar just won’t be my friend. I have dyslexia and that shit just sucks. Like, I don’t mind it, and sometimes it’s the funniest thing, but other times… well it gets on one’s nerves. I can’t type an email on my phone for example! Or anything important really. And yes, I know there is that thing called ‘autocorrect’ - but it just kept on correcting my words into something completely different and it annoyed me so much! So, I just shut it off. Oh, and don’t even get me started on reading! It really depends on how tired I am, but on bad days, man… That Shakespeare you helped me with the other day. I would have stayed up until literal morning just trying to figure out what even was on those pages! So yeah, thanks for that. That rehearsal went fantastically, by the way! The teacher was blown away. Do you know mister Greenwitch? He’s this kind of ‘do it my way or don’t even try!’-” Roman mimicked his voice, which made Virgil laugh slightly. “- kind of guy. And even he said it was, and I quote: ‘Acceptable’. Everybody was floored! I was floored!”

Virgil wondered how long would this rant last. (And how self-absorbed could one person be to be able to talk this long about themselves, but that was for a different day.) But he didn’t complain.

It was actually kind of surprising - hearing about this dyslexia thing. So Roman wasn’t so picture perfect after all. No super human - just regular old, grammar-fighting Roman.

That somehow lessened that reasonless resentment he was feeling towards him. Broke a crumb off of that barrier he so carefully built up to protect the people around him…

Roman was taking a deep breath ready to spew another avalanche of words at him, but V beat him to it. “What is that song you were humming?”

The man’s head cocked to the side in the most adorable way (which Virgil would never ever admit!). “An old lullaby my mother used to sing to me and my brother when we were little. It was the only thing that would calm Remus down enough to sleep.” he chuckled at the memory.

“Hmm…” Virgil hummed in understanding. There was this little pause - Roman lost in his head and Virgil watching him, just as much thoughtful. And then the thought slipped out. “How did you know what to do?”

“Hm?”

“With my… with me. How did you know the song would work?”

“Oh! My sister, Cassie, you met her. After our mum died, she started getting these panic attacks and I used to sing to her until she calmed down. I just figured I’d give it a try, you know.” Ro shrugged.

“You would have looked so ridiculous if it wouldn’t have.” Virgil smirked.

And Roman was gone. Completely gone. He mocked offence. “How dare you question my skills!”

And Virgil started chuckling. Softly and quietly, still weak from everything, but he laughed. And it made Ro’s heart happy. (For some inexplicable reason, he will never admit to or think about ever again.)

“You give me too much reason to, princey.”

“I am offended!”

“I can see that.”

And they both laughed. Just softly. Just quietly. But suddenly it was lighter in the room again.

“But it did help.” Roman concluded, just for his own sake.

“Yeah.” V nodded tiredly. He looked at the alarm clock on his night stand. It was four in the morning. “Don’t you have class in the morning or something?”

Roman just shrugged again, gathering up to move back to his bed. “Nah. I’m free. And so are you judging by your schedule.”

“Did you memorize my schedule?! Are you some kind of stalker?”

“It’s on your table, dimwit.” Roman laughed. “I checked it and remembered some stuff. I’ve got a good memory.”

“Right.” Virgil said, but it was clear he was mocking disbelief.

“By the way, you’re handwriting sucks! Like I already have problems reading printed text, but that mess…”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re very much welcome. What major are you in anyways? You know mine, it’s only fair if I know yours.” the man flopped onto his bed, pulling the covers over himself. It was so warm and comfy! Not like at home, but pretty close.

“Psych.” Virgil did the same.

“Really?!” and the surprise in Roman’s voice was so obvious, if he were anybody else, Virgil would be hurt by it.

“Yes, really.” he just rolled his eyes.

“How did you end up in psych?” the taller was pushing himself up again, ready for another round of talking.

But Virgil had enough of that for one night. he was exhausted. He needed sleep. He closed his eyes - blue ones in glasses still edged in his memory, but their blow softened by the repeating memory of Roman’s lullaby… “Good night, Roman.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t leave me hanging now. I’m really curious! Tomorrow you’ll go back to your sulky self and I won’t even get a word from you!”

And that made Virgil grin into his pillow. Because yes - he was going to do exactly just that.

“Good night, Roman.”

--------------------------------------

I told you I’ve had some backstory planned! And that isn’t even the whole thing yet! (@hestianerd1 you said angst from both sides. You’re getting a generous dose of it :3 - Btw, thanks for that website! I’ll be using that! <3)

Also, that dyslexia rant - not me projecting XD (It is long and pretty much useless and unimportant, but it stays, I’ve decided XD)

So, heavy subject and sad stories aside... I really do hope you enjoyed it and weren’t troubled too much...

Thanks for reading though ^^

Tag list:

@a-formless-entity

@cirishere

@ray-does-stuff

@lovelivingmydreams

#prestige #very scary tiny V #very lovely tall Ro #virgil angst #some light Roman angst #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #creativity sanders #anxiety sanders #thomas sanders #sander's sides #what else should i tag? #prinxiety

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Truths (One-shot)

A/N: More Gerard fic because, I don’t know, I’m kind of bored and have some ideas. I just recently found out about Gerard and Eliza. I’ve always been one for girls sticking up for girls, but she seemed a little crazy to me, not gonna lie. I hope you all enjoy it, and please, excuse my mediocre writing. Summary: (Kind of cliche) You meet Gerard on the Projekt Revolution tour, the two of you becoming close friends almost instantly. You were the lead singer of a small rock band which was blowing up during the time, their music hitting mainstream rock radio. During the tour, Gee ends up breaking up with his girlfriend Eliza. Like anyone is with a breakup, he’s pretty down, but you as well as others try to get him back up.

Pairing: Gerard Way x F!Reader

Words: 2395

Gerard was hurting, and you knew that.

On stage, he was an absolute beast. He could control the crowd as if he had grabbed their necks with his bare hand, he would sing his entire soul out and would give everyone one hell of a show. But then there was the off-stage, everyday dude Gerard.

He was a sweet, kind-hearted, funny, slightly disgusting guy who just like everyone else had flaws. And his tendency to care too much and put too much blame on himself was one of them.

“How’s he doing?” You walked up to Frank, who was outside of the bus smoking a cigarette. It was hot out, a scorching 90 degrees on the black pavement that everyone’s vehicles were placed on, and yet here you and Frank stood out of the comfort of air conditioning, out of care for your friend.

“Not great,” he admitted, taking another long and slow inhale, letting the smoke cascade out of his mouth. “And Eliza being bat shit crazy isn’t helping.” You sighed.

“What’s she up to now?” You asked, crossing your arms and looking up at him. You were only three or four inches shorter than Frank, being the smallest of anyone on tour.

“Won’t stop calling, texting, emailing.” He sighed, “She’s threatening him, saying she’s gonna kill herself, some crazy shit like that. I don’t know man, it’s eating him up.” You nodded.

“Where are the other three?” You inquired next.

“Ray just went out to grab some food, Bob is in someone else’s bus, I don’t know who, and Mikey’s inside, trying to help.” You looked down, letting an inaudible sigh trail from your lips. “If you want to go in, I’m sure you can. Gee would probably be happy to see you.” You lightly smiled.

“Ya think?” You asked, looking back up at him.

“Oh, I know.” He let out the last bud of his cigarette, throwing it down and rubbing it into the concrete with his shoe. “I mean, let’s be honest. You’re the highlight for most people on this tour. And your music is fucking insanely good.”

“Thanks, Frank.” You lightly blushed at his compliment. You knocked on the bus door, hearing Mikey say, “Come in.” before entering. Opening the door, and slowly closing it, you looked up to see Gerard, head in his hands obviously in distress, Mikey next to him, his hand on his back soothing him.

“Hey Y/N.” Mikey lightly smiled. At the sound of your name, Gerard looked up, giving you barely a smile. You smiled back.

“Hey, guys.” You said, only taking a few steps closer. “I just wanted to come in and check on you, see how you’re doing, and if you need anything.” Your eyes moved between the two. Mikey looked at you, then at Gerard, then back at you, before getting up.

“I’ll let you talk to someone new, okay?” He asked Gerard, who nodded. You moved to the side, letting Mikey, who flashed you a cringe, exit the bus. You immediately took his place on the leather couch next to Gerard.

“Hey.” You said lightly, looking at him with a small smile.

“Hey.” He said back, looking up for only a brief moment. His voice was in such a somber tone it almost didn’t sound like him.

“How’re you?” You asked next.

“Honest?” He asked and you nodded, “Not well, I feel like shit.” You sighed, looking back at him.

“I’m sorry Gee,” You said, barely above a whisper, “I really am.” He nodded, taking your sympathy.

You sat there for a few moments in awkward silence, both of you trying to decide within your heads who should go first, and what should be said. “Thank you for coming.” Gerard finally spoke up, “I really appreciate you checking on me.”

“Yeah of course.” You smiled, “That’s what friends are for.”

“I just hate bringing other people into my drama.”

“Hey, hey,” You looked at him, placing your hand on his, “You’re not the one starting the drama, so I don’t mind it.” He nodded. A few more moments of silence lingered between you two.

“Can I tell you something?” He looked up, making eye contact with you.

“Yeah, anything Gee.” You replied.

“I feel like Eliza really frayed our relationship, and I really hated that.” He said, “I’ve always found you to be someone I can talk to and you’ll listen and hear me and understand me, and I feel like she really tried to pull us apart.” You knew exactly what he meant. In fact, you had known for a lot longer.

You had known Gerard for three years, meeting him when your band was still playing crowds of 30 people, and Three Cheers had just been released. You and him had been good friends, but Eliza, well she was a problem.

“You need to stay away from Gerard.” She had told you only a few months prior.

“Excuse me?” You asked right back, outside of your tour bus. It was dark outside by now, probably after 10. “Gerard is one of my closest friends.”

“And he’s my boyfriend.” She sassed.

“He’s his own person.” You argued.

“I don’t want him seeing other girls.” She moved on, ignoring your valid point completely.

“We’re not seeing each other.” You clarified, “Gee and I are great friends, that’s it.” She rolled her eyes.

“I know you’re trying to take him,” She hissed through clenched teeth, “And I won’t allow that. So stop calling my boyfriend, texting my boyfriend, or contacting my boyfriend in general. And drop the nickname while you’re at it.” She smirked, trotting away like a rabid Chihuahua.

You never wanted to confront Gerard about the altercation, knowing you would have stirred the pot further. And you were sure as hell not going to tell him now when he needed less drama the most.

While you and Gerard were just friends, you had always found him quite attractive. Physically and as a person. You had kept it to yourself, only a few people really knowing. You managed to put on a pretty good “we’re just friends” face around him. “I think it was because she was jealous of you.” He spoke again.

“Oh?” You inquired. Of course, she was jealous of you. Not trying to boost your ego, but judging by her actions and words towards you, it couldn’t have been more obvious.

“Whenever I brought you up, her face would just turn almost sour.” He began, “And whenever we were around you, she would always get really protective. I had picked up on it and intended to talk to her, but I was just nervous, ya know?” You nodded. “So, I’m sorry. I was at fault for some of that for not speaking up.”

“It’s alright Gee.” You rubbed his upper arm, “Those were her own decisions, not your own.” He frowned.

“But I could’ve stopped her-”

“Knock off that nonsense.” You finally told him, “We’re still friends, Gee, and that’s what matters.”

“You’re really fucking good at looking at the bright side.” He said next, “It can annoying sometimes though.” You rolled your eyes as he smirked. You leaned back next to him.

“I could tell you we’re not friends anymore and I hate your guts now, which would be a complete lie. What would you think about that?”

“I think I would feel about a million times worst than I do right now.” He grabbed a cigarette putting it in his mouth and lighting it. After taking a long inhale, and an even longer exhale, he looked at you, motioning the rolled paper towards you. You shook your head knowing he was asking silently. He rolled his eyes. “Always miss goody two shoes.” You scoffed in response, “What? Are you going to sit here and tell me I’m wrong?” You didn’t even respond, just looked at him smirking. “What’s the worst thing you’ve done. The most rebellious?”

“I formed a rock band.” You smiled.

“Yeah, well everyone here did that.” He lightly laughed, “What about other than that.”

“Probably when I dyed my hair black.” You remembered that night.

“You sure you wanna do this Y/N?” Gerard asked as you two began getting the hair dye ready.

“Yes, I do.” You smiled, “And since you do it so often, I thought what better way to do it then with you?”

“Alright then,” He sighed, “Let’s start.”

“That’s it?” He asked. You nodded.

“Hey, it’s not like you’ve done any super rebellious stuff.”

“I was an alcoholic.” He said. You rolled your eyes.

“That’s different, Gee.” You sighed, “At least you’re sober.” He nodded.

“What’s one thing you’ve always wanted to tell me?” He asked you, out of the blue.

“What?” You asked.

“What’s one thing you’ve always wanted to tell me?” He repeated himself, “For real. I want to know.”

“Oh um, okay,” You thought. Well not really. You wanted to tell him how you had liked him and had wanted to ask him out for the longest time, but felt like you couldn’t. “I’ve always wanted to tell you how proud I am of you.”

“But you tell me that on, like, a daily basis.” He said.

“Well yeah, but I am really really proud of you Gee. You’ve come so far in music and as a person from where you were when I first met you.” He lightly smiled.

“I could easily say the same for you.” He smirked, “But actually no, you haven’t changed as a person. Which is fine because you’re a great person.” You lightly blushed.

“What about you?” You asked, “What’s one thing you’ve always wanted to ask me?”

“Honestly?” He asked.

“Honestly.” You reiterated.

“You’re the most beautiful woman on the planet.” You stopped, breath caught in your throat. You could feel your eyes go wide, mouth opening in shock, your face heating up to what you were sure was a bright red shade.

“R-really?” You asked lightly.

“Yeah,” He took another puff of his cigarette, “Of course. You haven’t been told that before?”

“Well by my parents, yeah, but that’s different.” You looked down at your fingers, pondering what to say next. “Can I change my answer?”

“Huh?” He asked.

“Can I change what I’ve wanted to tell you?”

“Sure.” He replied.

“I’ve liked you for a while now. And I know that sounds so juvenile and like I have a middle school crush, and it’s probably not great timing with all that’s going on, but you’re a great person and you’re really hot and handsome but you’re so kind.” You just looked at him, him looking back.

“Then can I change my answer?” You nodded, “I’ve felt the exact way but I was too scared to say so because I thought you deserve someone better than me.” You immediately shook your head.

“No, no I don’t Gee.” You lightly giggled. “Not that many guys like me, if any.”

“Are you kidding?” He asked, “There are teenage boys and full-grown men out there who I know get off to you.” You lightly gasped, gagging shortly after.

“Please, I don’t need that image.” He laughed.

“So does this mean that despite the fact I just broke up with my now ex-girlfriend, I can ask you out on a date?”

“Sure.” You lightly laughed.

“Is Cup Noodle fine?” He asked next, “Tomorrow at eleven, once everyone is out partying we can sit in here.” You laughed and nodded.

“Of course, Gee, that sounds absolutely perfect.” He gave you a genuine smile this time in response. “Do you feel alright now?” You asked.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

Time skip because I’m low key lazy

“What’s one thing you really want, right now, on the road?” You asked Gee, the two of you laying on the couch together, some Cokes in hand. It was probably close to midnight, parties still raging on.

“A veggie burger.” He sighed, “Like a damn good veggie burger.” You lightly chuckled. “What about you?”

“Maybe some crappy Chinese food.” You lightly laughed, “Like really shitty Chinese food.” Gerard nodded.

“Chinese food sounds good.”

“I know.” You sighed.

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when we get home?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” You thought, “Maybe I’ll spend some time at home with my parents. Just like a few weeks.” He nodded.

“I haven’t met your parents have I?” He asked. You shook your head.

“But I’ve met yours.” You smiled, “You’re mom’s sweet. A little crazy though, but sweet.” He lightly laughed.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“You could come with me.” You looked at him from where the two of you laid. He looked back. “Meet my parents. See my house. Not for the whole time, but for a few days maybe.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready yet, ya know?” He said, “I’m not a great boyfriend, bring home to parents material.” You lightly laughed.

“My parents won’t care.” You smiled, “Their daughter is the lead singer of an alt-rock band. They don’t care anymore.” He lightly laughed this time.

“I’ll consider it.” He sighed. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” You replied.

“Could I kiss you?” You lightly smiled, turning to see him.

“Sure, Gee.” You turned to face him, he was already looking at you. He leaned in, to give you a light kiss. It wasn’t anything special on the outside, but of course, it was special to the two of you. You smiled into it, him pulling away a few seconds after.

“You’re pretty.” He said immediately after.

“You’re pretty too.”

“Yeah but not as pretty as you.” You smiled at him.

“You’re so adorable, Gee.”

“Adorable?” He asked, a little confused.

“Yeah,” You smiled, “Adorable.”

“Actually, the first thing I’m gonna do when we’re off is invite you on a real date.”

“This is a real date.” You told him.

“Yeah but like, going out somewhere.” You rolled your eyes.

“This is just fine, Gee.” You sighed, “Can we just eat pizza on my couch?” He nodded.

“I mean, it’ll be cheaper for me so-” You smiled.

“I’ll pay for half.”

“But that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me.” He lightly smiled.

“Oh Gee,” You grinned, “I learned long ago that you weren’t a gentleman, which is okay. Because I still like you a lot.”

“I like you a lot, too.”

(Pt. 2? I don’t know.)

#gerard way x reader #gerard way #mcr gerard #mcr fanfiction #mcr #mcr x reader #my chemical romance #my chemical gee #my chemical gerard

[wedreamedlove]

Not Too Much, Not Too Little, Juuuust Right [Xu Mo Character Study]

Reddit archived.

I got a weekly chat recently from Xu Mo that made me appreciate all over again just how much of a wordsmith he is and his massive EQ (emotional quotient intelligence).

So, I wanted to explore that in more depth here and then slide into how love is a poison that worked its way into Xu Mo and is disrupting all his plans LOL.

Spoilers goes up to Chapter 9 but mentions Chapter 13. I'm also going to be doing direct comparisons to the English version because Elex did Xu Mo so dirty at the beginning.

First, I always need to give credit to @sharinluna and their comment in my Speech Quirks post (which I'm still updating to bring over) because I can never stop thinking about it whenever it comes to Xu Mo vs. the ENG server and how his social class is present in the game but difficult to convey to an English audience due to cultural differences.

I mentioned this in my Character Study on him but TL;DR Xu Mo being a distinguished neuroscientist and professor is sort of like meeting a doctor who cured cancer or something. You'd feel like you need to be extra presentable and it'd be understandable if they wanted you to call them Dr. because they studied 8 years for that Ph.D. There's a sense of awe and respect, right?

Xu Mo: I'll participate. Good luck, classmate.

Xu Mo: The next time we meet, you can just call me Xu Mo.

Here at [Main Story 1-9] you see that Xu Mo immediately gets rid of the distance between him and MC. I won't comment on the English version here, because it's a tough cultural one here. But Xu Mo calling her a classmate puts them on the same social level.

He takes that further by giving her permission to directly use his name. This is notable because it's normal to call people by their last names or titles in Asian countries. You don't assume closeness unless you're around the same age, permission is given, the time is judged to be right, etc.

Xu Mo: I'm laughing at how every time you let me help you, you'll always say reservedly at the end, "Thank you Xu Mo, it's all because of you."

Xu Mo: (Raises an eyebrow) What, am I that scary?

Here at [Footage 1-7] he points out how reserved she still is with him and then, again, makes another request for her not to be so reserved or scared around him.

The rest is close enough to English so I didn't show it, but I did show the above because in Chinese he imitates her voice and it's another instance where he's working to soothe her nerves. He's lightening the situation and making himself come off as silly and cute. He also structures his question in a way where he's not emphasizing whether or not SHE'S scared but if HE'S scary.

Now, in this next section, I want to point out that Xu Mo knows deepening a relationship quicker requires some stimulus and he's a master of introducing and relieving tension.

If you constantly flustered the other person and left them feeling embarrassed, then you'd be known as an aggressive flirt and you'd risk scaring them away. But if you fluster them and then give them some space by stepping back and smoothing the conversation over, then you're a charmer.

Xu Mo: In conventional terms, I believe it's called a "date".

Xu Mo: Mm, you don't have to think too much on it. We're just searching for interesting things together.

This is Xu Mo's first call which comes after [Main Story 1-14] and he asks MC how she's going to thank for his help on Miracle Finder. That's the introduction of tension. He's clearly flirting and MC is flustered as she racks her brain for something. He relieves the tension by taking over and asking if he can make a request. Then he introduces it again by hinting at having a date. But then he relieves it again by telling her that she doesn't need to think too much about it.

The reason I brought up a direct comparison is because of the nuance in "Don't read too much into it" vs. "Don't think too much on it". The former implies that she's not supposed to put importance on it being a date, because it's not true. The latter sneakily gives her the option of not needing to put importance on it, but it can still be a date and he's just not admitting it.

WORDSMITH!

To be honest, I wanted to avoid mentioning voice direction because that's a murky zone with personal preferences everywhere. However, I cannot resist this one part because it's the epitome of Xu Mo's scholarly demeanor letting him get away with things like this.

In [Main Story 2-11] Xu Mo calls MC to talk about folding light and then it leads to this teasing:

Today, a director from Miracle Finder came to discuss plans for the next show with me. Originally, I thought about having them leave [...] I thought you would come [...] More important than me? [...] Is it only for fresh ideas for your shows? [...] Haha, I'm feeling better now. I can talk with your director about the show's contents now.

He keeps his voice light throughout the whole conversation, and there's modal particles in there to soften his words. I also love the slight laugh he directs at himself and at the end. Again, he brings tension to the conversation by putting her on the spot but relaxes it by keeping things light.

In [Main Story 9-7] Xu Mo drops MC off at home after her hospital trip and teases her by asking if she's just going to thank him by saying "thank you". Tension is injected here! MC is flustered! Then he relieves the tension by saying there's many ways to show gratitude and she can take time thinking about it. He doesn't stay on this topic and instead leaves her alone.

Now, in this section, we acknowledge that all humans are unique and people have different levels of what they can tolerate. The same goes for our MC and we can see instances of Xu Mo adjusting his behavior according to her reactions.

Or, most notably, in [Main Story 5-6] Xu Mo asks MC:

Xu Mo: Then, could you change me if we continued to get along like this?

Um, there's a difference between "could" and "would" but I won't get into the semantics of that because I'm not a master in Chinese. However, I will note that the word he's using 能讓 means something like "can let, allow, can make" so it's an inherently soft verb.

Anyway, after this conversation, we end up at [Main Story 5-14] where MC criticizes the way Xu Mo treats girls because he's pleasant to everyone. He corrects her misunderstanding and explains the reasons behind his interactions with all the other girls.

However, he does take MC's words into account and adjusts his attitude accordingly. Hereon, he draws clear lines between him and other girls, although by nature he's still polite to everyone. It's another reflection of his emotional intelligence at how his attitude can't be judged wrong by anyone, and yet he can still convey his rejection and distance.

By the way, this is mentioned in his [CN Character Profile]:

Although he is gentle towards people, he makes people feel that there is a sense of distance, and it is difficult to really enter his inner world.

For example, in [Afternoon Date], Xu Mo politely answers the girl's questions about getting better sleep and then rejects her cake to him like so:

Xu Mo: I didn't help with anything, you're too polite.

Xu Mo: But I don't eat sweets. Thank you for your kind intentions.

Seriously, he leaves no room to be criticized. He was unfailingly polite, acknowledged her intentions, said he received them, but still rejected her cake. LOL.

In [Main Story 9-2] the nurse who is supposed to give MC an IV is super flustered in Xu Mo's presence and she misses the vein because MC unconsciously moves. Xu Mo tells her to try again and take it slow, because MC is going to be even more nervous now.

His words were seemingly casual, carrying his usual gentleness, but I could hear a hint of disaffection.

Translation? He's pissed. Haha, just kidding, but he's probably unimpressed with the nurse's incompetence and her attention on him, only he's too polite to let it show overly much.

Meanwhile, Xu Mo is also observing MC's reaction to him and adjusting his responses in consideration of her feelings (whenever he's not playing the flirting game).

In [True Love Date] everyone plays spin the bottle and answer questions, or get penalized with drinking shots. Xu Mo admits that he has someone he likes, but when they ask him to say who it is, he responds like this:

My heart beat even quicker as I buried my head deeper and my hand, which was held by Xu Mo, tightened unconsciously.

Xu Mo seemed to have realized something and, with a small smile, he raised his drink and drained shot after shot.

Are the translators only getting paid per scene and so they're dropping the latter half of every sentence? LOL...

Anyway, it's much clearer in Chinese that he feels her reaction, immediately understands, and just accepts the penalty with his usual elegance and smile. Or it could have been a chuckle. Oh god, Chinese and Japanese with their 笑.

Next, going back to [Main Story 9-2], Xu Mo is teasing MC and then gets called out. This is an interesting one because it doubles both as him restraining himself after her words, but also because he realizes that love is eating into him and he's reacting unconsciously and genuinely now.

He seemed to be deliberately imitating my earlier words, and the last syllable even rose up a little.

MC: Xu Mo, I haven't seen you in so long and yet you're getting better and better at making fun of me...

Hearing my words, Xu Mo was taken aback, and the smile in his eyes disappeared somewhat.

Xu Mo: Is that so?

Those three words were so light it was as if they had never slipped out of Xu Mo's mouth.

He quickly raised the corners of his mouth again, but the curve of his smile was more restrained.

Am I ever going to get over the translations for the hospital scene in Chapter 8 and 9? NO. NEVER. I hate it so much because it's two different worlds.

Changing gears to [Main Story 5-16] we get this observation from MC.

He's definitely a dangerous man! I need to stay farther away from him!

I'm sorry, but call me the fun police because I hate this translation too. I get it. The context allows for this after all his teasing, but you can get the same thing with the word dangerous. He's dangerous for your heart, he's dangerous for your hormones, etc.

The reason I'm being a stickler here is because MC isn't oblivious to Xu Mo's actions.

In [CN Archery Date] she thinks:

I tried to check Xu Mo's reaction, but he was just smiling. However, in those curved eyes, I felt like there were still hidden sides to him that I didn't know about.

From the day I met him, he concealed his inner thoughts and treated me with a calm, beautiful, and gentle smile.

That's why, up until now, I never thought he had a side like this to him.

MC knows Xu Mo wears a polite mask, but you don't just call people out on that LOL. Like any other relationship, you hope the other person will slowly open up to you. But, well, the reveal in Chapter 13 was probably not something she could have ever expected.

This is why I think the "dangerous" description up there should have been kept. It's some delicious foreshadowing that still lets you play around with innuendo.

Incidentally, the chat that made me write this post was:

MC: Xu Mo, have you ever had a time where you were furious?

Xu Mo: Not really. Living as a human means we need to control our emotions.

Xu Mo: There's even less of a need to be furious at something that's already happened.

First, he states his position and it's a mature one. Second, he then softens his superior position by generalizing how you and him both need to control emotions as humans. Third, he provides general logical advice without sounding like he's singling you out.

In comparison, I can easily see Kiro and Gavin sympathizing with your emotions and letting you vent. That's totally cool and that's their style because they're not the mentor-type. Meanwhile, Victor would probably point out how dumb you are for wasting time and energy getting angry instead of just going straight to fixing the problem. That's cool too, since he's the tough love type.

But you see how this sets Xu Mo apart? He's so skilled with his words. WORDSMITH!! I have a massive interest in social engineering and inherited my mother's social manipulation genes LOL so I love scholar archetypes and their word games.

If you're not doing it out of any malicious intent though then it's just a very considerate way of speaking and it's nice.

Conclusion. So, anyway, this was me wanting to admire Xu Mo's massive EQ. I'd say the only other person on par with him is Kiro, but Kiro has the natural kind and is more genuine because you can see him react truly to things.

Xu Mo is, much like his profession, a scientist who has probably studied how people interact with each other and perfected that. But this perfection in and of itself is what leads to a sense of discomfort with him because no one can be THAT gentle and placid all the time.

I always mention how disarming he sounds, because he's so good at social engineering, and it's only after the conversation is over and I take a few seconds to go over what was said that I'm like "Hey, wait a minute, that was actually alarming!?".

One of my favorite quotes is from the DUNE series by Frank Herbert and it goes: "To know a thing well, know its limits; Only when pushed beyond its tolerance will its true nature be seen."

This applies to Xu Mo. Knowing someone's bottom line helps you know them as a person and so we go into the next section where he shows genuine emotions.

LOVE IS A SLOW, SWEET POISON

Eyes are the window to the soul! EYES ARE THE WINDOW TO THE SOUL!! If I took a drink for every time there's a description about the ripples in Xu Mo's eyes (not even eye symbolism in general), I would be dead before even getting out of Chapters 1-10.

But, anyway, whenever there's flickering, surging, roiling, seething, welling, or shifting light in his eyes then it means he's feeling some heavy emotions.

Returning back to [True Love Date]:

Xu Mo stilled for a moment, light surging and roiling in his eyes, before I saw his Adam's apple bob.

For those with clever eyes, yes, the adjectives for the light in his eyes is supposed to draw references to water. Turbulent waves. Rolling waves. Surging waves.

I'm not going to show [Main Story 9-11] because the English was close enough with "Xu Mo's eyes welled with shifting emotions". They got the eye symbolism there at least! Chinese just went further by linking it directly to water again with how his emotions were like "swelling ocean tides at night".

Then, once these emotions hit their peak, they explode and deliciously unmake Xu Mo. He loses his calm and the contrast between the incidents I've shown above where he's been nothing but grace, elegance, and courtesy vs. this loss of control is fantastic.

In [True Love Date] we see Xu Mo corner the MC outside the washrooms because he misunderstands and thinks she's complimenting another man. Uh, no comment on the yelling in English vs. the quiet melancholic tone in the other versions. But the fact that he forgets his physical strength is a clear sign of a loss of control!

In [Midnight Date] he's trying to order himself to forget about MC and feeling a rope of thorns squeeze his heart. Uh, pretty clear sign of him losing control over his feelings again.

I would argue this all culminates in Chapter 9 when he realizes he loves her. In [Main Story 9-14] we get to see Xu Mo at his most human, where he lets himself feel, before he gets caught up in his plans again and sees them go awry at the end of Chapter 9.

Like the prophetic dream MC had in [Main Story 9-14], the ground has fallen beneath them and they're sinking into a deep ocean. The red spider lilies describe them well because the flowers and leaves can never touch and these two are separated with sadness and mutual longing... (or are they?).

Past Chapter 9, we literally don't see Xu Mo with MC until we head into Chapter 13 RIP. So, at [Main Story 12-22] we just see another example of Xu Mo trying to lock his humanity away again so that he can carry out his plan utilizing the MC.

The light in his eyes was still gentle but a bit unfamiliar and there was more of a sense of ordinary humanness.

The man nodded and turned around. His face was expressionless, and even his eyes lacked any emotion.

Took liberties in this translation, as always, because it's just impossibly hard to get across how fireworks symbolize mono no aware and the fleeting fragility of the human condition. So, when Xu Mo's eyes are described as having the breath of fireworks it means being grounded in the earthly realm as an ordinary human whose life shall pass, but that's why the moment you're living in right now is beautiful.

But... but he truly does love her LOL.

In the [2nd Trailer PV] Xu Mo says "You always... throw off my judgment" which is close enough to the Chinese line that translates to something like: "You always have me make the wrong judgment."

Perhaps it's unfair to criticize the English translation at the example below because translators generally don't have the full context of everything and often work solo with single parts (b-but that's why you need a good editor...).

However, I love looking at these two conversations together. This is from [Main Story 5-19] after Xu Mo mentions he hasn't slept for three days, and then Xu Mo's first call again after [Main Story 1-14] about the date-not-date:

Xu Mo: No, I don't. I just don't want to waste time on unimportant things.

Xu Mo: Relax together, share delicious meals, waste our time away...

Everything Xu Mo holds as important 1) his judgment and 2) his time because he doesn't do useless things has been overturned by the MC. That's love, baby!

In the words of Paul Valéry, a French poet and philosopher in the 19th century, "Love is being stupid together."

And you know what? In [True Love Date]... at least the Chinese version:

Forget it, he'll just be foolish once more with this foolish girl.

#mr love queen's choice #mlqc meta #mlqc lucien #mlqc xu mo #mlqc #love and producer #love and produc(ing) meta

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Keeping Secrets

Keeping Secrets - Kidge Month Day 12 Prompt Fill Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Pairing: Kidge Summary: Keith is worried that he thinks Pidge is upset about things and refusing to talk to him about it. As such, he decides to do some investigation of his own. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.

The points where he got to relax were far and few between since dedicating himself solely to the Blade of Marmora, but he found he appreciated them all the more. He used to spend his free time with Shiro, but things had been strained between them ever since he’d opted into focusing on things with the Blade. As such, he had to find new places to linger when he was on the Castle of Lions. And, while Lance had been slightly more bearable about having him as a sparring partner, and Hunk was always eager for the extra hands when he was baking or working on repairs on rebel fighters, he ended up finding himself lurking the corridors with Pidge the most.

In her, she found a kindred spirit.

He had voiced to her some of the fears and insecurities he felt when it came to things between he and Shiro, admitted that he had backed off and stepped down because he didn’t think he was the kind of leader the team needed. Pidge said she thought that was an excuse, but that she admitted that none of them were really ones to judge. The team as a whole had noticed a shift in Shiro’s attitude and priorities, which had them all alarmed. None of them said anything, however, out of fear of the fight that could come from it. A part of Keith had been grateful in knowing he could confide in Pidge and not a word he breathed would make it to the others.

So when he noticed her behaving very strangely, he had been a little hurt.

The idea that she was keeping secrets from him had left him a little disheartened. After all, he had told her about his own struggles. He did some careful snooping around, asking the others subtle things to try and get information. None of the others seemed to have any insight as to what was bothering her, though Hunk had made an interesting comment about how she’d gone with him to the Balmera recently. She claimed it was simple curiosity as to how the place was managing, but that Shay revealed Pidge seemed to have smuggled a decent amount of smaller crystals out with her. They weren’t the kind that were particularly useful or anything, and the Balmerans would have been happy to part with them willingly, but it was just… strange. Which only caused his suspicion to be piqued, given that it wasn’t something she should have been so secretive about.

He found her making her way back to her room, the bag that housed the stones pressed close to her chest. "What are you doing?" he asked bluntly as he followed after her.

She responded by squealing and fumbling with the bag, wheeling around to face him. When she saw it was him, though, her whole body sagged in relief. "Oh, Keith. It's just you,"

"What are you doing?” he repeated.

“Uh... Going to my room, obviously," she said with a small laugh, indicating the door with a jerk of her thumb. He noticed her moving to tuck the bag of stones behind her back.

“Any reason you’re taking a bunch of Balmeran stones in with you?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m doing research,”

“Hunk says you took them without asking or mentioning anything to Shay or anyone else,”

“They’re just tiny ones!”

“So then why didn’t you just ask for them?”

She growled and indicated him with the sweep of one hand. "And all of a sudden you're Mister Rules R. Cool?"

He scoffed. "No, it's just that you're clearly doing something suspicious,"

"I am not," she grumbled out, but her expression had become something more akin to a pout, which was proof enough that he was right.

"Are too,"

"Are not,"

"Then let me into your room,"

Her eyes widened, gaze falling from him to her door. She then looked back at the small bag of stones in her hands and then sighed. There was a look in her eye that he’d never seen before. He wanted to say it was resentment, but it wasn’t something she seemed to be directing at him. He hadn’t seen this kind of hesitation in her before and it only worried him further.

Finally, she ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “Ugh, fine. But this stays between you and me, got it?” She jabbed a finger into his chest to make her point more known. He nodded and watched as she huffed again, nodding herself before turning and opening her door. She led him in, making sure it locked after them.

Inside, it was much cleaner than he remembered it being, but then he heard a small, soft noise. It sounded like a mix between a squeak and a bark. Then, he noticed a smaller pillow on her bed, with a strange pastel looking lump of fluff on it. There was a flicker of movement and he realized that it was alive, appearing to be some kind of off-colored chinchilla.. It slowly unfurled itself, uncurling its tail to reveal a small orb at the end. It looked like it had been cracked, but had some kind of ointment smeared over the crack. The little creature looked like it had a little white mask on, and had dark blue pupil-less eyes. It’s ears perked up and it tilted its head to look at him, opening its mouth to let out the little noise he’d heard before.

“Hey there, Velvet. Are you hungry?” Pidge cooed, walking over and opening up the bag.

Immediately the little creature looked over and started to move, as if it meant to waddle over. Keith noticed that, outside of just the cracked tail orb, one of its little front paws was missing.

“Velvet?” He asked quietly, carefully stepping closer as Pidge sat on her bed and gently picked the little critter up.

“That’s what I named her. Because her fur is so soft,” she explained, setting Velvet down in her lap and pulling a small stone out. She held it out and the creature leaned forward, setting her good forepaw on Pidge’s finger and starting to nibble on the stone, crunching away at it as if it were a carrot. “We found her a few weeks back, in the rubble of a town. The planet didn’t have the resources needed to help her, and Shiro told me that she’d figure out how to fend for herself. But… I couldn’t just leave her out there all alone. Her species isn’t indigenous to that planet, so being left there would have been a death sentence.”

“She was on a planet she wasn’t indigenous to?”

“She was probably a pet to one of the Galran commanders. I’m just going to take care of her while she adjusts to not having the paw and her little tail thing heals up. Then, I’m planning to return her to her home planet,” She explained, gently petting her head.

Velvet let out a little trilling noise of delight, pressing up into her touch.

“And you think Shiro would be angry if he found out?” He asked, reaching out to offer his hand to Velvet as he sat next to Pidge. She perked up and gave him a cautious sniff before settling down, the closest he was going to get to an invitation. He reached out and gently scratched along her chubby, fluffy cheeks. Her fur really was incredibly soft and soothing to touch.

“I know he’d be angry if he found out. I just… It wasn’t right to leave her there, all alone and scared,” She said quietly.

A part of him thought that there may be more to her kindness than just seeing something small and vulnerable. Perhaps a part of her felt a kinship to the small creature? “Your secret is safe with me,” he said with quiet conviction.

She looked up at him before offering a small smile. “Thanks, Keith,” She said softly, letting her head drop to rest on his shoulder.

#Voltron legendary defender #Keidge #Kidge #Peith #Kidgemas #MonthofKidge #MonthofKidge2019 #KidgeaPalooza #KidgeaPalooza2019 #Pidge Gunderson #Keith Kogane #my fics

[rjay37]

So, I did a thing

I wrote a little fanfic. It's my first, so be kind! 

Characters based on @e-22912 's very evil Rick and one of the many wonderful versions of Unity. 

I'm not very good at titles, suggestions welcome :) 

_______________________________

As your eyes start to adjust to the dim light you realise that you are somewhere you've never been before. A large open room with workbenches running along the walls, three computer monitors at one end casting an eerie blue glow into the dark that illuminates an array of microscopes, tools and other objects that you don't recognise. Hospital? No that doesn't seem right, although you have a headache that feels like it will split your head in two. You try to sit up to get a better look at your surroundings but you can't move. Turning your head to the side you catch sight of yourself in the reflection of the darkened windows running along one of the walls. You see yourself lying on a steel table with leather straps restraining your wrists waist and ankles. A cold trickle of dread cuts through your headache and makes your heart race. Something is very wrong. How did you get here, and where even are you!? Think.

The last thing you remember is being at the bar waiting for your date to arrive. The prick, how dare he stand you up? No. Focus, there are more important issues right now! Think. Remember... You had called your friend to cuss out what's his name for not showing up and to cuss her out even more for trying to set you up with him, then the barman gave you a drink you didn't order. He told you it was from 'that guy'. Turning to look over your shoulder in the direction he was pointing 'that guy' turned out to be a bit creepy looking, older with wild blue hair and that was about all you could make out across the poorly lit bar. 

He was sitting alone and lifted his glass to you when he saw you looking over. The thought that sprung to mind was 'dream on', but you were having a shitty night and a free drink is a free drink. You had smiled sweetly in reply before turning back to the bar and downing the drink, then you stood up and left. You remember the light headed feeling of tipsyness hitting you along with the cool night air as you stepped outside, and then... Nothing. Fuck. What had been in that drink!?

Suddenly the room glows green, accompanied by a strange noise behind you. You try to turn your head to see but can't. By the time you look in the reflection of the windows the sound and the green glow have gone, but the blue haired man from the bar is standing behind you. Shit. What does he want!? Is this organ harvesting? Whatever it is, It seems pretty fucking elaborate...

"Good. You're up" he says dispassionately as he strides over to the computers, barely even glancing in your direction. He sits down with his back to you and starts tinkering about with something on the workbench. You don't know whether to scream for help or stay quiet, so you settle for something inbetween. You take a deep breath to try and calm yourself. "What's happening? Who are you?" you manage to get the words out with only a slight edge of fear. "Don-uurp-don't think about it sweetheart, this won't take long" he answered, not even bothering to stop what he was doing.

"What won't take long?" you asked, even though you weren't sure if you wanted to know the answer. He ignored you, or hadn't heard you so you asked again, a little louder "what won't take long!?". He sighed loudly and stood up, walking over to you. "I said don't think about it" he replied as he flicked a switch under the table which turned a bright light on above you, making you scrunch your eyes shut against the harsh light. Opening them again slowly, adjusting to halo of light that now surrounds you, you are finally able to get a proper look at him beyond the few details you had seen in the bar.

Same wild blue hair, styled in spikes that seemed to clash with the rest of his appearance which was quite professional; his tall frame was dressed in grey trousers and a black top with a white lab coat over the top, unbuttoned. Sloppy work clothes? Was it casual fucking Friday at whatever weird facility you had been taken to? Government maybe... You notice he is smirking down at you, apparently amused by the confusion that must be showing on your face. He really doesn't look like a government employee, he has a large scar running from forehead to chin on one side of his face running through a unibrow. An honest-to-God unibrow! But now is not the time for judging personal grooming choices.

Gathering your thoughts you ask "do you work for the government?" he laughs loudly and unexpectedly "the Government wi-uurp-ishes they had me on their team! Now just re-r-relax." as he speaks you notice movement in the shadows behind him. You strain your eyes to see beyond the pool of light and can just about see something dark and glistening, slithering towards you both. The man either doesn't see or doesn't care. "There-th-there's something behind you!" you stutter. A grin spreads across his face from ear to ear "now now" he taunts "that's no way to talk about Unity. She's not something..." he continues as a large slug like parasite creeps it's way up his leg snaking around his torso and settling its head on his shoulder like a beloved pet. "... She's everything" he continues caressing its slick skin affectionately as the creature nuzzles into his neck. What is happening!? 

"What do you mean?" you ask, feeling the colour drain from your face. "you'll see" he replies leaning forward and resting both hands on the edge of the table, looming over you. 'Unity' takes the opportunity to snake her way down his arm towards you. With panic setting in you begin to thrash against your restraints. You do not want that thing to touch you. This makes the man laugh again. You have a split second to be pissed off at his amusement before your attention is drawn back to the parasite which is now on the table, crawling up your stomach onto your chest.

You try to stay as still as you can with wide eyes and shallow panicky breaths, you don't want to startle it in case it attacks. It rears up until it is leaning over you. Are you about to die? 

The end of its face, if you can even call it a face, peels slowly open like a blooming flower to reveal row upon row of razor sharp teeth, dripping with a yellowish green liquid . Instinct makes you scream. As you open your mouth wide, the parasite on your chest convulses sending a stream of liquid down your throat. Choking, your mind is racing. This must me how it ends for you...then you hear a voice in your head, soothing, echoing 'be calm, be one, be us'. What the fuck!? Closing your eyes tightly you lay more still on the table, trying to process everything. Again, the voice came, 'be calm, be one, be us'. Does it matter anymore? You aren't hurt, it isn't painful, maybe it will all be OK... You lie still as a strange sense of calm washes over you and the voice in your head comes again; 'you are us'. 

After a few moments you open your eyes to find the man leaning over you, unibrow furrowed. "Unity?"  he asks  "yes Rick, its me". It's your voice, from your mouth but they aren't your words, you didn't even know his name before now! His expression changes at your reply, softening. He unfastens your restraints and helps you to sit up. He hugs you hard and you hug him back "I have missed having arms" again, the voice is yours, the words are not. Neither is the desire to hug him. 

Jesus, it's like an out of body experience, someone or something else is controlling your thoughts, your body, your voice... You know that it's happening, but your OK with it. You know it isn't right, but at the same time it's perfectly fine. You can't stop it, but you don't really want to either. Drawing back from the hug Rick kisses you lifting you down from edge of the table "I've missed you having lips" he said with a look in his eyes that tightens things low in your body and makes your pulse speed up. 

Not wanting him to know the effect he has on you, you walk past him to the workbench and start idly picking up gadgets. "I must say, I'm still a bit surprised at your desire for me to assimilate something so.... Normal." You feel Rick press his body against yours from behind, his arms wrapping around you. " c'mon sweetie, don't be like-uurp-like that, you know its what's on the inside that counts... ' he whispers into your ear, trying to stop the fight before it starts. "... sometimes I just get a bit nostalgic, y'know, like sometimes a few home comforts are nice" 

You aren't really upset, but you like how hard he is trying to keep you happy, so you make him try just that little bit harder. "I understand, my mammal, but out of all the creatures in all the universes you choose one like yourself. It is disappointing. I thought you were more creative than this." Rick presses his body harden into yours grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling your head to one side, exposing your neck in a long line. He runs his tongue along the exposed skin." Come here baby, and I'll show you how creative I can be"  spinning you round to face him you are rewarded with another kiss, rougher and more intense than before, all tongues and hunger. 

He takes a step back from you, his quickened breathing matching your own. "shall we? ' he asks offering you his arm with a dark glint in his eyes full of promises. Grinning back at him, you take his arm and allow him to lead you away into the darkness.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Ascension (III)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jongdae / Baekhyun

Rating: R (violence)

Word Count: 8,194

Summary:  The weight of humanity rests on Y/N’s shoulders. In Ascension, enemies must come together, lines must be drawn and the question of good and evil itself must be raised. As Y/N’s power strengthens and more players reveal themselves, the only thing obvious is that nothing in this world is black and white. (Book 2, sequel to Guardian)

Jongdae crosses the room slowly. He comes to a stop, staring down at your face. Jongdae isn’t a tall man, but somehow it’s hard to meet his gaze. His expression twists in pain and desire, shadows wrapping your chin to tilt upwards.

Something in his gaze softens. “Take care,” he murmurs, then slips past.

You stay like that, until he shuts the door. This is for the best, you argue with yourself. You know that separation will you good – but still, it hurts. It hurts to be parted from him. Then your eyes widen, realizing what you’ve done.

Your father. You requested Jongin bring you to your father.

You haven’t seen him since finding out what you were. Your father knew all along, yet kept it a secret. He kept it hidden and now, you’re going to find out why. Staring at your hands, you spread them in midair. Splaying them quietly as you recall Baekhyun’s words.

Piece by piece, you’ll pull yourself together.

Closing your eyes, you hesitate only a moment before you teleport.

“Road trip!” Baekhyun sing-songs, slinging his bag in the trunk. “It’s been so long since I’ve been on one – even longer, since other people were involved. When I was young,” he continues, walking to the front of the car, “everyone thought I was loud – weird, I know – and would refuse to go. I don’t know,” Baekhyun sighs, missing the look you and Jongin exchange. “Only Chanyeol would come with, and that was mostly due to his inner ear thing, which meant he only heard me half the time, and – hey,” Baekhyun comes to a stop, looking over his shoulder. “Why’d you stop?”

Jongin stares in disbelief. “He’s your friend,” he grumbles, flipping his keys in one hand, “which means, you get to be the one to entertain him.”

Without a word, Jongin opens the door to the driver’s seat. You’re left standing alone, until Baekhyun quirks a brow. “You can take the front seat,” he offers, gesturing. “It’d be weird, if Jongin chauffeured us around.”

“Not very road trip-y,” you agree, opening the door to climb in. Jongin’s car turns out to be a pick-up truck – something which surprised you, at first glance. When you expressed such sentiment, Jongin shrugged.

“It comes in handy,” he said, something which has indeed, proven to be true.

Buckling your seat belt, you look over your shoulder – only to find Baekhyun, staring at Jongin. “Can I ask a serious question?” he ponders, leaning over the console.

“Go for it,” Jongin sighs, placing the car in reverse. “What do you want?”

“Can I oversee the music?”

“No.”

Falling back, Baekhyun pouts – a gesture which switches to a frown, as you watch. His brow furrows, concentrating fiercely and you wonder what on earth he’s doing, until a sharp ray of light breaks free from the clouds.

“Ah!” Jongin yelps, nearly swerving off the road.

“Baekhyun!” you gasp, and he jumps in surprise.

“Sorry,” he pleads, rubbing his neck. “I wasn’t trying to do that, I just wanted to test things out – but,” he grins, switching track, “did you see, Jongin? I used my powers, just like you taught me! I focused the energy, concentrated on the result, and – ow! Why’d you hit me, Y/N?”

Retracting your arm from the back, you sink down in your seat. “Because you’re trying to kill us all,” you explain, looking out at the road.

It’s hard to stay mad though, since you understand what he’s going through. When it first starts, your powers are hard to control – hell, even now, it’s still hard. Besides that, you appreciate what Baekhyun is doing. To the untrained eye, his babbling might seem an annoyance but to you, it serves one, very specific purpose. It’s a distraction, Baekhyun’s attempt at normalcy while the entire world falls apart is soothing; enough that, for a moment, you wish you were beside him. You wish you were in the backseat, head on his shoulder while his incessant rambling lulls you to sleep.

This thought is banished, when Jongin hits a pothole.

“So,” you clear your throat, shaking free from the thought. “Jongin, how long have you known Jongdae?”

Up until now, he’s been driving. It would have been faster to teleport, but you still can’t judge distance very well and besides – using Nephilim power is a dead giveaway to the Altorium. You might as well send up smoke signals, light up the Bat signal, too. It makes human transportation the safest option – hence, the car.

“Really?” Jongin’s lip quirks in surprise. “Are we telling backstories now?”

Shrugging, you reach for your water. “What else do we have to do? While you’re at it, tell us what heaven is really like. Is it all gold robes and halos, floating around on clouds of harps? What do you talk about?” you muse, drawing your feet up on his seat. “I imagine the conversation is mostly intellectual – somehow, it’s hard to imagine a fart joke in heaven.”

Baekhyun leans in, nose poking between you. “If she gets to be too much for you,” he stage-whispers to Jongin, “I can always switch seats at the next rest stop.”

Jongin frowns, as if he’s trying to decide who, between you, is the lesser evil. Eventually, he sighs. “Why do I always get the talkers,” he mutters – mostly to himself. “You know, Y/N – I think you’ll like Kimmy.”

“Oh?” you say, thinking back. “Kimmy is your Nephilim? Water power, right?”

Jongin nods. “Yes,” he agrees, shoulders tensing when he speaks. “Kimmy has been my charge for just over two years. She’s – well, loud,” he states, causing Baekhyun to snort. “She’s also honest, not at all afraid to speak her mind. I’m,” Jongin hesitates, voice dropping. “I hope it hasn’t gotten her into trouble, where she is.”

Somewhat gently, you touch his arm. “She’ll be fine,” you assure him, though you don’t know that yourself. “Jongdae and Yixing will free her, you’ll see.”

Jongin hesitates, then sighs. “I suppose. Anyways – to answer your question, yes, I knew Jongdae before falling. Only by name, since Jongdae was the Archangel of Death. It was rather hard not to know him, and me – I was merely an Angel of healing.”

“Hm,” Baekhyun muses, dubious. “That’s not what Jongdae made things sound like.”

Jongin’s head whips up, startled. “When did you talk to Jongdae about me?”

Baekhyun shrugs, somewhat evasive. “Things came up. He explained you were their primary healer, in the battle against Noah.”

Rather embarrassed, Jongin nods. “I suppose, but that was after I fell. Or – ah. Hm. It may have been in the middle … It’s all kind of a blur, which event came before which.”

“Interesting,” you add, sensing Jongin does not wish to elaborate. From everything you’ve seen, this seems to be a sensitive topic. Jongdae made falling from heaven seem to be an excruciating, mortifying experience.

The car is silent, until Baekhyun clears his throat. “And the robes?” he prompts, serious. “What of them?”

Jongin rolls his eyes. “The only reason,” he sighs, a trace of lecture to his tone, “you think Angels wear robes is because it was commonly depicted during a time humans wore robes. Our clothing changes with the times, and if you saw an Angel today – more likely, they’d wear jeans.”

“Ah,” Baekhyun mulls this over. “Seems less impressive, somehow.”

“How lucky,” Jongin states dryly, “that the entire Angelic collective doesn’t work to impress you, and you alone.”

Baekhyun smirks, hiding a grin. “It is a departure from the norm, I must say.”

Jongin’s mouth drops, then slowly closes. “Anyways,” he states, clearing his throat. “You’re right, in thinking there’s little laughter to be found in heaven, Y/N. I know your last remark was facetious, but the burden of an Angel is heavy. I don’t know,” he allows, looking over, “if you’re familiar with the human philosophy which indicates the primary urge of humanity is survival?”

“You mean survival of the fittest?” you ask. “Or something else?”

“Partly,” Jongin allows. “It’s the idea that a human, when pressed, will make the decision best for their own survival. If we assume this to be true, the opposite is true for an Angel. An Angel’s duty, their purpose is the end all, be all.” Jongin’s grip tightens on the wheel. “For example, I feel a need to fix people. I want to heal, to save, while Jongdae feels the need to pass judgement. He wishes to right the imbalances of the world, to save all things from evil and protect humanity.”

“He feels judgement, all right,” Baekhyun mutters.

Ignoring him, you sink back in your seat. It makes sense, even if you don’t like this about him. The entire time you’ve known him, Jongdae has been in constant battle with himself. Even with you – or, especially with you. Jongdae said so himself, he cannot tell if he loves you due to his duty or something else entirely.

“Humans,” Jongin continues, as though sensing your distraction, “are granted free will. This is another thing which separates us, as Angels do not.”

“What?” Baekhyun blurts out, surprised. “I heard that as a rumor, but I didn’t imagine it to be true.”

Jongin’s lips purse, turning onto the highway. “It’s true,” he affirms. “Not in the way that you’re thinking, though. It’s not as though God writes us a script every day, or yanks on our golden halo, whenever we err. Lack of free will means, while a human’s primary desire is themselves – our primary desire is you. We don’t think about our wants, our needs; not in the same way you do. It is only after coming to earth,” Jongin explains, “that I even began to grasp the concept.”

It’s strange to consider, while you stare at the road. “So,” you pause, thinking. “Forgive me if this is rude – but how, then, do Nephilim occur? If Angels can’t fall in love, don’t have bodily urges, then how are there Nephilim?”

Jongin exhales, loudly. “I don’t have an answer for that. It’s something I’ve wondered myself, over the years. A part of me thinks it’s on purpose,” he admits. “A part of me wonders if we’re meant to experience your desires and struggles firsthand.”

Baekhyun shifts in the seat. “In what way?”

Jongin’s gaze moves to his, in the mirror. “Well,” he swallows, words weighty. “Sometimes I think this is destined. Sometimes, I wonder if we’re meant to fall – because then, when we rise, we’re able to take with us the weight.”

Attempting to follow, you stare out at the woods. “I don’t understand.”

“I do,” Baekhyun says, as your head snaps around. It isn’t what you expected of him, nor is his expression what you thought it might be. He looks flustered, almost embarrassed looking down at his hands. “It’s in the Bible,” Baekhyun mumbles, prompting further surprise from your end.

Jongin just nods. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?’ you ask, trying to keep the whine from your voice. “What, exactly, is in the Bible?”

“Well, it’s an interpretation of the Bible,” Baekhyun clarifies, head dipping further towards his chest. “The idea that God became human not just to forgive our sins, but to offer comfort. In becoming human, he offered equality. It is one thing,” he states, quiet, “to hand down a law. It’s another entirely, to walk in someone else’s shoes and then offer advice. Perhaps,” Baekhyun allows, “Angels fall, to be better. By experiencing the pain of humanity, Jongin can better heal down the road.”

At first, Jongin does not react to his words. He stares at the road for so long, you contemplate touching – but then he exhales. “Exactly,” he murmurs. “I think this, as well. Thank you.”

Something passes between them, something unspoken as you look out the window. Trees flick by on either side, casting the truck in alternating shadow. It’s easy, sometimes, to forget Baekhyun’s steel. It’s easy to get lost in his quips and sarcasm and forget about the man within. A man who’s suffered, greatly, at the hands of others. His mask is so convincing and this thought makes you ache, enough that you don’t look at him when you ask, “Do you believe in God, Baekhyun?”

“Yes.” Baekhyun’s answer is quick, certain. “I find it hard not to, given what we are and what I have fought. We’re sitting in a pick-up truck with a goddamn Angel, for fuck’s sake.”

Jongin slowly closes his eyes. “A point, somewhat lessened by cursing the Lord’s name.”

“I was using it for emphasis, actually.”

Remaining silent, you look down. In your lap, your fingers play with the hem of your t-shirt as you struggle to frame your next thought. “Have you ever seen God, Jongin?”

Without moving, he states, “No.”

“You see?” you hum, sitting back in your seat. “I find it hard to believe in things I can’t feel.”

“Ah,” Jongin replies, voice softening. “That is not what you asked me. You asked me if I’ve ever seen God, not if I’ve felt him.”

“Same difference.”

“It’s not,” Jongin responds, equally soft.

Baekhyun doesn’t reply, and for the rest of the ride the car is filled with silence.

The cabin is far, enough that the house you grew up in is closer than your apartment and you head there first, in the interest of time. As the scenery changes, shifting from trees to grocery chains and storefronts, you turn in your seat.

“A plan,” you blurt out, causing both men to jump.

“What?” Jongin frowns, gaze darting sideways. “What are you talking about, Y/N?”

“A plan,” you emphasize, somewhat frantic. “An explanation as to why we’re here, and why I’m bringing two strange men home with me,” you hiss, gesturing between them.

“Uh,” Baekhyun appears. “Easy, I’ll be your boyfriend – problem solved.”

“Not helping,” you groan, closing your eyes. “Jongin?”

“Here’s a wild idea,” Jongin states, turning onto your drive. “What if, we do exactly as planned, and tell your father the truth? You know, we tell him you know what you are, you’re currently training with the fallen Angel of Death whose son – a fabled monster – seeks to rise from his grave and end humanity.”

“And,” Baekhyun adds, “that you’re trying and failing to fight your attraction to the handsome man in the backseat.”

“I thought we were telling the truth,” Jongin interjects.

Baekhyun makes noise of disapproval when you groan, sliding even lower. “None of this helps,” you protest, looking out of your window.

“Y/N.” Jongin looks sideways. “You brought me, because you thought I’d be able to help explain. I’m helping now, when I say you should be honest. You should explain and give him the chance to do so in return.”

Jongin is right, you know this – and yet your heart beats uncontrollably, pulling into your drive. The house is the same, barely changed from your childhood. The same, green shutters, the same, brown stone and the walkway leading up to the front is the same, dingy grey. The sight brings with it the familiar nausea which comes from forgetting.

“Let’s go.” Jongin turns off the engine, looking at Baekhyun. “Come on, get out.”

As he exits the car, you mutely push open your door. Your feet hit the asphalt and wobble, knees bending with the weight of expectation. A dull ringing fills your ears, until Baekhyun touches your arm.

“Hey,” he breathes, waiting until you look at him. “I was kidding, earlier – know that I’m here, if you need me. You have every right to be mad at your dad, to be honest. Just… hear him out. They’re your family, after all.”

The way he says this, finite and quiet, reminds you Baekhyun has none. Well, none comparable, anyways. Lorian doesn’t count – not to you, anyways. Rage chokes your chest whenever you think about what he did to Baekhyun. “Let’s go,” you nod, resigned. “Let’s go inside.”

The walk up to your doorway is long, made even longer by the way you drag your feet. Jongin and Baekhyun don’t comment, simply follow and wait while you ring the bell. It’s barely finished, before Trina flings open the door. “Sorry, we’re not for sa – Y/N?” she blurts, eyes widening. Her gaze moves, confusedly, from the left to the right. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Trin,” you exhale, waving awkwardly. “Can we come in? There’s something I need to discuss.”

“Uh,” she blinks, gaze moving from Jongin to you. “Sure, sure – come in. But Y/N,” Trina frowns, stepping back from the door, “who is we, exactly?”

As you enter the house, it all comes rushing back. The familiar smell of soap, slightly charred food and books. Lots of books, stacked in haphazard heaps and piles. Your dad is an enthusiastic perpetrator of the idea that books should be loved, not just read but before you can walk too far, Trina throws both arms around you in a hug. “Seriously,” she hisses, into your ear. “Who are these dudes, Y/N? Dad will have a conniption, if you let strange men in the house without his permission.”

“I know,” you whisper, squeezing her back – despite the circumstances, it’s nice to see Trina. She always makes you lighter, the situation somehow better. “There’s a lot to explain,” you admit, while the door shuts behind you.

“Sorry,” Jongin apologizes, hand splayed on the door. He hovers, just inside the foyer while Baekhyun hangs awkwardly off to the side.

Trina steps back, gaze lingering on Jongin a moment too long. Rolling your eyes, you nearly groan out loud because you should have known this would happen. You should have known your sister would be interested but honestly, Trina and Jongin would be horrible. She’d walk all over him and have fun in the process.

When Baekhyun clears his throat, Trina looks his way. “Hey,” he states, waving a hand.

Your sister’s eyes narrow. “Who’s that?”

“That’s Baekhyun,” you inform, stepping between them. “He’s a friend.” Jongin snorts, turning this into a cough when you glare. “And that’s Jongin,” you add, jerking a thumb over your shoulder. “He’s perfectly angelic, when he’s not being an ass.”

Just the corner of Trina’s mouth lifts. “That so?” she muses, looking his way.

Jongin blinks, flushing – flushing – as you sigh. “Okay,” you shake your head. “That’s enough of that. Trina, where’s dad?”

Your sister turns, surprised. “Oh?” she asks, crossing her arms. “I’ve been trying to months to get you to visit, and suddenly you just decide to drop in? Why?”

“I, uh,” you stammer, struggling for an answer. It’s too sudden, to tell her like this. “I need to talk to him, Trin. I also need to talk to you, but later – this is important, not to mention time-sensitive.”

“Something,” she muses, pursing her lips, “which has to do with the Bobbsey twins, here?”

“Ah, come on – we look nothing alike,” Baekhyun complains while Jongin corrects, “Actually, the Bobbsey twins were a boy and a girl.”

The both pause, confused by the other’s answer – then shrug.

Unfazed, Trina blinks. “Whatever. It’s strange, Y/N, to show up unannounced with two, strange man I’ve never seen. One of whom,” she frowns, glancing at Baekhyun, “can’t stop looking at you – behavior which seems rather odd, considering the fact that you have a boyfriend.”

“A boyfriend?” Baekhyun blurts, half-strangled.

“I don’t – I,” you falter, while thinking – shit. Shit, shit, shit. You forgot Trina is under the impression that you and Jongdae are dating. Back then, it seemed necessary but now, in retrospect, it seems foolish.  

“Fess up, Y/N,” Trina nods, stepping closer. “What’s going on? Are you in a cult, or something? Have you been kidnapped by the mafia and these two are your handlers?”

“I – what? No!” you blurt, shaking your head as your dad enters the hall.

“Trina? Did I hear the doorbell ring? I – Y/N,” your dad gasps, mouth sagging when he sees you.

His feet pause, half-out of the kitchen. In his hands, he holds a large stack of papers – ones which from here, you can’t read the titles. The shirt on his frame is too big, top button unbuttoned with his glasses perched precariously at the edge of his nose. It’s his typical state, being half-present and you wish you could say you’re more surprised.

“Hi, dad,” you sigh.

If a pin dropped, it’d be louder than this. Coming somewhat to his senses, your dad’s eyes dart to Baekhyun, Trina – they linger a moment on Jongin – before returning to you. “I see,” he states, straightening. Removing the glasses from his face, he rubs at his temple. “Is seems you and I should talk, Y/N.”

Off to your side, Trina makes a strangled noise. “What, exactly, do you see, dad? Your favorite daughter, losing her sanity?”

“No,” your dad frowns, looking between you two. “Y/N seems just fine.”

Trina’s lips twitch, trying not to laugh – and failing, as Jongin releases a breath. “Hello, again,” he waves, forcing you to twist sideways.

“I – what?” you breathe, eyes wide. “Again? Jongin, what are you talking about?”

“I think,” your dad interjects, stepping forward, “we should talk, Y/N. Trina,” he turns. “Could you please escort the gentlemen elsewhere? You’ll be safe with Jongin, I assure you. We need to talk – but later, after Y/N.”

Trina’s mouth snaps shut, hesitating briefly before she nods. “Alright,” she states, turning. “You two – out,” Trina orders, shooing them both with her hands. “Follow me, let’s go get… ice cream, or something.” Grabbing her coat from the front closet, Trina disappears out the door.

“It’s 11:00 in the morning,” Baekhyun grumbles, though he follows. “Ugh, fine – coming.”

Once they’re gone, the house returns to silence around you. You stand for a moment, listening to the sound of Jongin’s pick-up truck start – then rumble away, leaving you alone.

“So,” your dad clears his throat. “You and Jongin have met, I see.”

That’s all. Up until this point, you’ve held yourself together. Up until now, you maintained a semblance of sanity for Trina, for the others – but now. Now, faced with your father and his million, tiny lies, you’re finding it hard to breathe, let alone stand. Lips trembling, you feel your power snap and you teleport.

Appearing suddenly before him, your hands clench into your fists. “How could you?” you yell – anger and resentment brewing inside. It condenses to a ball, about to explode. “My mother, an Archangel; me, Nephilim. And you – you,” you choke, nearly spitting the words, “you are a liar.”

Flinching, your dad nearly takes a step back. “I – well, yes. Yes, it’s true, but I did it all for your own –”

“If you say protection,” you growl. “I swear that I’ll lose it.” 

Limbs shaking, your jaw remains clenched with the force of keeping your powers in check. Protection – god, how you’re beginning to hate the word. Everyone wants to protect you and ends up hurting you worse than before. 

“How did you protect me, exactly? By not telling me who I was? That didn’t help, when the Altorium attacked. That didn’t help, when Department Exes kidnapped me, when they drugged me into submission. No,” you demand, biting down on your cheek, “none of that helped me, then.”

Somewhat stunned, your dad stares at you. “If,” he whispers, voice cracked. “Using your power, means they can track you. All the years you were dormant, the years you didn’t know – you were safe, because they couldn’t find you. If I’d told you, they would have come sooner.”

“They – what?” you exhale, some of the fight leaving your body.

There’s a long moment, when your dad simply looks at you. “Not here,” he says at last, looking over your shoulder. “In the kitchen. It’s made of brickstone.”

When he turns, you walk after – it appears you don’t have a choice in the matter. You want answers and so you follow, echoing his footsteps until you enter the kitchen. He’s already at the cabinets, rummaging around for a tea kettle and tea. “I’m afraid I only have packets,” he sighs, turning around. “Trina took my strainer with her to college, and never returned it.”

“Packets are fine,” you say stiffly, sitting down at the table. Fingers drumming the surface, you look around the room. It’s been a long time since you’ve done this, sitting here in this seat. While you wait, your dad places the kettle on the stove – the two of you stew in silence, waiting for the water to boil.

It’s hard not to remember your childhood, or lack thereof. When Trina’s mom died (and Gabriel left, you realize), your dad began to fall apart. It forced you to step in, to take care of yourself and your sister – at least until your dad got it together, and you went to college. It’s something you’ve always resented; Trina knows, it’s why she rarely suggests that you visit.

You and your dad don’t talk about it much though, since you seem to have inherited your quiet stubbornness from him. It’s only on nights like tonight, when you even feel related. It’s only when he brews tea like this, sits across the table from you and listens while you pour your heart out. That’s when you feel closest. This is the first time though, that he’ll be the one explaining to you. When the mug of tea is set before you, something loosens in your chest.

“Thanks,” you mutter, reaching out for the cup.

Sliding into the chair, your dad takes a long sip and exhales. “Your mother warned me they’d come,” he states, diving right into things. “She said you’d be powerful, that there would be many rumors about you – and they would come for you, because of this.”

“They came,” you confirm, nodding. “I wasn’t prepared.”

“So you’ve said,” your dad nods, looking down. “Your Guardian was supposed to find you, once you exhibited powers – it wasn’t supposed to be like this. There are Nephilim,” he sighs, “who go their entire lives dormant, not knowing about their powers. There are some who live their whole life thinking they’re human.”

“And this would be better?” you exhale, wondrously. As much as you struggle with your powers – it seems unthinkable, to consider yourself to be anything else. “Is that the life you wanted for me? Going day to day, always feeling something was missing but never knowing?”

Your dad’s expression grows weary. “I wanted what’s best for you,” he allows. “It would have been simpler that way, you would not have been in danger.”

“But,” you whisper, hands encircling the mug, “I wouldn’t have been me. Why hide my powers from me like that – why?”

“Because,” your dad interjects, sharp, “if you didn’t know, they couldn’t find you.”

“They?”

“Demons,” he explains. “The Altorium, Department Exes – is that the government? Never mind, none of them would have been able to find you, without your powers!”

Thrown into silence, you stare at your mug. “I,” you hesitate, hearing your pulse in your mind. “It didn’t work, though. I found my powers on my own, and it’s been horrible since.”

“I see that,” your dad ventures. “At the time, I thought it was worth the risk. To give you a chance at a normal life, to give you the chance to,” he breaks, voice trembling, “live, at all.”

This, you can understand – even if you don’t like it. “Baekhyun is an Altor,” you say quietly, still not looking at him. “I guess he still found me, with all your precautions.”

“A – a what?” your dad interrupts, somewhat alarmed. When you look up, he stares over your shoulder – towards the front door. “How are you alive? Gabriel warned me about them, but here you are – and Jongin seems to trust him. What did he do, to gain such a trust?”

“Oh?” you snap, returning your gaze to his. Scrambling for power, you struggle to contain yourself. “What about me? Why aren’t you asking how Baekhyun gained my trust? Who is Jongin, dad?”

Taken aback by your tone, your dad winces. “Right – Jongin is, ah, it’s complicated. He was friends with your mother before he fell. I knew him… years ago. It’s truly remarkable,” he trails off, shaking his head. “He still looks the same.”

This is too strange to think about, so you don’t. “Why don’t I start at the beginning?” you offer resentfully.

When your dad nods, you tell him everything. The same way you used to, back when your problems weren’t life or death – back when your greatest worry could be solved with just a positive attitude. Now, your life is all prophecies and power, a world hovering at the brink of a war. You explain until the sun arches high in the sky, until it sinks back towards the horizon. Somewhere in the middle it starts to rain, but still you talk on.

There’s a lot to cover – your powers, Jongdae training you. This leads to Baekhyun, your kidnapping by Department Exes, the subsequent torture and mind games. When you reach the part of Jongdae breaking you out, you hesitate before explaining how Baekhyun came with.

At this, your father arches a brow. “Huh,” he muses.

“What?” you ask, scanning his face. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, hiding a smile. “It’s just something your mother would do, that’s all.”

When he says this, you flush, looking down at your mug. “Anyways. We were kept in the Department for several months, until Jongdae found us. When he did,” you hesitate, suddenly shameful, “I asked that he make you forget. I didn’t want you to know – not yet.”

“Ah. I did wonder,” your dad responds, careful. “I wondered, why I remembered none of this.”

Looking up, you meet his gaze. “You’re taking this better than I would,” you mumble. “If I found out my memories had been altered, messed with and rearranged…”

Nodding gently, your dad sighs. “I am angry. I also understand why you did it.”

These words give you pause. “You do?”

“Yes.” Looking into his newly refilled cup, your dad watches the steam. “You didn’t want me to be worried. You were also mad at me and didn’t want to have this conversation.”

“Maybe,” you mumble, knowing he’s dead on the nose.

Finishing the story, you explain about the Altorium – about the prophecy, about finding out who Jongdae truly is. Describing how Baekhyun helped you escape, you falter, remembering. Your words stutter, caught in your throat at the memory – then you force yourself onwards, push yourself forward. Yixing and Jongin are thrown in at the end, brief explanations that you gloss over.

When you’re done, the room falls quiet. It’s silent for so long, you’re scared that your dad has fallen asleep – you reach out, only for him to stir and look up. “It seems,” he starts, then stops. “It seems there is much to be sorry for. I’m sorry I left you so ill-prepared, sorry I did not begin your training sooner. I’m sorry I kept you in the dark, that I hurt you at all.”

This is not what you expected. The entire drive over, you were picturing his response. You thought he’d withdraw, fall silent, you thought you’d have this conversation with the human equivalent of a wall. Never, did you imagine he might apologize. Never, did you imagine he might mean it. Sitting across from him, tea chiling in your hands, it’s difficult to keep the moisture from your eyes.

“I thought you were safe,” he confesses, reaching out a hand. “I thought we had time, but I was wrong. The mistakes that I’ve made – they’re mine to own. I just don’t want you to be alone, from here on out.”

“I’m not,” you whisper, thinking of Jongdae. Of Baekhyun, of Yixing and Jongin. “I’m not alone.”

“Even so.” Your dad sighs, understanding. “We should have been there, me and Trina. We’re here for you now, though – whatever need you have of us.”

Vision blurring, you nod. This entire thing is a mess, since the very mistakes your dad has made – you made right back. You lied in return, you hid things from him in turn. One sin begets another, one stone begs another be thrown. Setting down your own stone, you stare at his hands.

“Honesty,” you blurt, suddenly.

Frowning, your dad arches a brow. “Pardon?”

“Honesty,” you repeat, looking up. “I’ll answer your questions, and vice versa. Sound fair?”

“It does,” he nods, withdrawing his hand. Removing his glasses from his pocket, your dad slides these onto his nose. “What do you want to know?”

Gathering your courage, you ask the one thing you’ve been waiting to know. “How did you meet?”

Looking at you, your dad’s face softens. “It was by accident,” he recounts. “My mother was dying, I held her hand in a white, narrow hospital bed. As she took her last, rattling breath I looked up, and there Gabriel was. I screamed, since I couldn’t understand how she’d gotten there and when Gabriel took my mother’s hand in her own – she looked up and saw me. Then she disappeared.”

Your dad pauses, exhales. “The next time I saw her was a car crash. There was a motorcyclist hit by a truck and I was the first responder. When I arrived at the scene, I began administering CPR – a useless endeavor, but I had to try – she appeared again.”

“She did?” you ask, somewhat breathless. “What did she say?”

“Nothing,” your dad answers, chuckling. “She was working, barely flinched – it was only when I cleared my throat that she saw me at all. Gabriel looked up in shock, but barely registered this before she was gone again. I thought that was it,” he confesses. “I thought that was the end, until I walked out of my room the next morning and found her sitting at my kitchen table.”

“What?” Leaning forward, your eyes are wide. “What did she do?”

“She yelled at me,” your dad smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “She asked me what hell-sworn devil I’d sold my soul to, to see her. She didn’t believe, when I told her no one. Gabriel was an Archangel, and such things were unheard of.”

“But they did,” you observe. “They do. It happened to you.”

“Yes,” your dad nods, quiet. “I kept seeing her like that, and we eventually became friends. I was dating someone at the time, so at first it was just friendship. A remarkable one, to be sure – how often does a human meet an Archangel? I didn’t even realize,” your dad swallows, remembering, “that I was falling in love. I didn’t know what it meant, until her.”

Gabriel, Archangel of love, truth and understanding. “What happened next?”

“The woman I was dating broke my heart,” your dad confesses. “She left me, slept with her best friend and when Gabriel saw how broken I was – she cried.”

“Cried?” you repeat, amazed.

“She cried,” your dad affirms. “She felt my pain and was so shocked by this, she disappeared. She left me alone for several weeks, until one night she returned and, ah,” your dad trails off, rubbing the back of his neck.

Flushing furiously, you wince. “Right, let’s skip that. When I was born, how – what…?”

“Why did she leave?” your dad supplies. When you nod, he sighs. “It wasn’t by choice, Y/N. Gabriel couldn’t stay long, she was bound by her duty. Without her, the entire cosmos is weaker – love itself is weaker, humanity is weaker. It’s how I knew Jongin,” your dad explains, “since he would keep me company, when Gabriel disappeared.”

“Ah,” you exhale. “I see.”

“I don’t think you do,” your dad counters gently, laying a hand on your own. You look up in surprise. “Your mother loves you, Y/N. It tore her to pieces, not being there for you – it,” he hesitates, then continues, “it was the first time she ever considered falling.”

“Falling?” you repeat, the entire room seeming to ring. “You can… choose to fall?”

“Everything is a choice, Y/N,” your dad says heavily. “When she offered me this, I couldn’t accept. I told her to leave, and for that I am sorry,” he admits, quiet. “I thought I could be enough for you, I couldn’t stand the thought of binding her here. At the end, I let her go – and it’s because of me, that you grew up without a mother. I understand if you’re angry,” he finishes.

You are. You’re angry with him, but more at the situation. It would be a lie, to say that you’re not but beneath it all, there’s a kernel of understanding. If Jongdae came to you tomorrow, if he offered you that same choice – to be cast down forever, in order to stay with you. You would make the same decision your dad made. To bind an Angel to earth, stripping away everything he loves – the very thought is abhorrent to you.

“Can I meet her?” you ask instead, barely more than a whisper.

Sitting straighter, your dad nods. “When your mother left,” he begins, thoughtful. “She told me three things. The first was that she loved you. The second, she explained how to protect you. The third, she said that she’d come if you called.”

All around you, the world seems to slow. “This entire time,” you breathe. “I could have called her, and she would’ve come?”

“I imagine it’s a bit more complicated than that,” your dad allows. “But yes, essentially.”

This thought quiets you, forces you to consider things you haven’t before. In theory, you want to meet. In theory, you want to meet Gabriel and ask her everything you’ve asked your father – more, even. Having this conversation with your dad though, the reaction was known. You know your dad, you love your dad – you knew even if this conversation went poorly, he would still love you in return. With Gabriel, you don’t know.

Then, there’s the thing which has been eating you whole. The thing which keeps you awake at night, knowing that your hands are no longer clean. It seems impossible, unthinkable to imagine Gabriel will welcome you with open arms – not when you’ve killed, when your palms remain stained and bloodied.

Taking a deep breath, you look up. “What do you think she’ll say,” you ponder, voice shaky, “when I tell her I’ve killed someone?”

Your dad’s eyes widen – only for a moment, but it’s there. You wince, looking down in your mug because the fear was plain, worry was plain, and you wonder if your dad ever considered the prophecy in a different light. There’s another option, one where you’re not the savior and you wonder if your dad ever considered this possibility before. You wonder if he does now, knowing what he knows.

“Well,” your dad leans back in his seat. “I imagine she already knows, Archangel that she is. I also imagine,” he exhales, voice soft, “if she knows you like I do, she’ll understand your reasons.”

He speaks with such quiet confidence that is loosens the knot in your chest. “I didn’t,” you hesitate, voice catching. “I didn’t mean to. I was trying to save Baekhyun, trying to free him and someone got in my way. I only meant to freeze him,” you choke, vision blurring at the corners, “and he died, instead.”

Across the table, your dad nods. “I imagine that must’ve been terrifying. I also imagine… you’ve feared yourself, since.”

Startled, you look up.

“I’ll admit, I wondered,” your dad nods, confirming. “I wondered why you decided to come to me now. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that you did – but still, I wondered. Why now?”

Confused, you frown. “I just wanted to talk to you, I don’t know.”

“Mm,” he nods, tilting his head. “It’s a common fallacy, to assume most demons come from the outside. This Baekhyun, your Altor, he fought demons before, yes?”

“I – he’s not my Altor,” you correct, heat rising to your cheeks. “He – yes, he does. He’s fought demons before.”

“Right,” your dad nods, hiding a smile. “He fights them physically, destroys them and sends them to someplace physical. These are not the only demons in our world. There are ones which are far more sinister, ones which belong only to humans by design.”

“Because of free will?” you venture, and he nods.

“Making our own decisions, means there’s no one to blame when things go wrong. The weight of this is heavy, both a great strength and horrible weakness. You know this,” he allows, meeting your gaze, “because you experienced it firsthand – watching me, I’d imagine.”

The causes you to freeze. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“It’s okay,” your dad assures. “I know your childhood was burdensome. I lost myself to my demons, time and time again – all this, at the cost of you and your sister. It’s why you’re here now, to ask how I was able to change.”

Staring at him from across the table, you recognize yourself and in that, you see that he’s right. In the back of your mind, you thought he might be able to help. “Perhaps,” you admit.

“It’s alright,” your dad affirms, reaching out for you. He takes your hand in his. “Wrong decisions, wrong outcomes – this isn’t something you can run away from, or avoid. You will continue to make mistakes, because you will continue to be human. It’s also human to learn though, to grow – you are not a bad person, just because you make a bad decision.”

“How do you know?” you repeat, barely audible. Looking down at his hands, you trace the lines with your eyes. “What if the prophecy is right, and not in a good way? What if I raise Noah, not to save the earth but to raze it? What if my powers aren’t great enough to stop him?”

“Ah, Y/N,” your dad exhales, shaking his head. “You’re thinking about this all wrong. You’re a hero, with or without your powers. That prophecy is a product of the person it’s about, it’s not set in stone and as someone who’s loved you, who’s watched you grow – you are absolutely a hero. I can feel it,” he affirms, touching his hand to his heart.

The words crack the walls within you, echo Jongin’s words from earlier and suddenly broken, you can’t help the tear which rends through your soul. It releases power, trickling into your veins like rain after a drought. It makes breathing somehow easier, as though a great weight has been lifted and on the table before you, your hand tightens in his.

“Dad,” you exhale, voice cracking. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he smiles, rubbing your thumb with his own. “Advice isn’t a one size fits all kind of glove, Y/N. You’ll continue to grow from everything around you. But,” he frowns, as though just realizing something. “In all that you’ve said, you never mentioned what next. What will you do, once Jongin’s Nephilim is returned?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “The Altorium is still out there, Department Exes will be looking for us as well. Especially, once Jongdae and Yixing get Kimmy.”

Nodding, your dad looks at the table. “Well, you can stay as long as you like. At least, you can if you want to,” he hastens.

“I’d like that,” you agree, soft. “If the others are fine with it, we can stay until figuring this out.”

“Good,” your dad nods, standing from his chair to reach for his phone. “Better text Trina, tell her they can come back.”

“Oh, god,” you laugh, standing as well – in the corner of your eye, you can already see several missed texts. “What have they been doing, this entire time?”

“I’m sure I can’t guess,” your dad muses, seeming less concerned than yourself. “Jongin and Trina will be fine, I’m sure.”

“That’s not who I’m worried about,” you mutter, unlocking your phone – just as the front door opens, banging against the wall.

“We’re back!” Trina calls, stalking into the kitchen. Flopping across from you at the table, she points a finger accusatorily. “You, Angel-born,” Trina grunts. Pausing, she lets you squirm before all malice falls from her face. “This explains so much, Y/N. It explains why you were such a good dancer, and I sucked at ballet – you have the natural grace of an angel! Meanwhile, I, a mere mortal –”

“Oh, lord,” you groan, lowering your face to your hands.

Trina laughs, delighted. “Can you say that, even?” she teases, poking your arm. “Can you use the lord’s name in vain, and all that – will you just burst into flames, like in a cartoon?”

“She’s not cursed, or something,” Jongin drawls, entering the room. He smiles at your dad, crossing the kitchen to shake his hand. “It’s been too long.”

Staring at the two of them, you wonder if this will ever not be weird. It’s odd to think about, Jongin knowing your father twenty years prior – and still looking the same. When they separate, still smiling, Baekhyun clears his throat from behind them.  “All that,” he sighs, walking into the room, “and we didn’t even get ice cream.”

“Shove it,” Trina rolls her eyes, “you psycho stalker.”

Brows lifting, you stare between them. “Uh,” you half-laugh, baffled. “Trin, what are you talking about?”

Wincing, Jongin pushes a hand through his hair. “That’s my fault,” he interjects. “Baekhyun was pretty worried, so I offered to fill Trina in on everything that’s happened so far. I’m afraid I did a rather poor job of it. You know,” he pauses, considering. “I’m still not sure I fully understand what happened.”

“What’s there to understand?” Trina demands. “That human nightlight was supposed to kill my sister. After stalking her for half a second, he got a giant boner and decided to be friends. I don’t trust him,” she announces, ignoring the noise your dad makes, at the use of the word ‘boner.’ “I’m still holding out hope for original boyfriend.”

“Who, Jongdae?” you ask, slightly dazed by the conversation. “Trin, we were never dating. That was just an excuse, to explain why he was in my room.”

Baekhyun’s expression lightens. “Oh,” he exhales, leaning against the wall. “That makes sense. And,” he frowns, glaring at Trina, “I did not get a boner for your sister, I –”

“Guys,” Jongin groans, rubbing his face. “Can we please stop using the word boner?”

“We were kidnapped,” Baekhyun insists, uninterrupted, “and I don’t know, shit happened!”

“Shit happened,” your sister deadpans. “Do the Hallmark people know about you?”

“Look,” Baekhyun rolls his eyes, exasperated. “When we were trapped, I –”

“And that’s another thing,” Trina interrupts, over the sound of your protest, “you two were kidnapped, held against your will and you bonded? Hello, Stockholm Syndrome! You need to take a step back, human boy, and –”

“You’re human, too! Besides, Stockholm Syndrome is for when you sympathize with your captor, not –”

The front door to your house bangs open. Baekhyun pauses, mid-sentence as his head swivels over his shoulder. You jump to your feet, world seeming to move in slow-motion as you rush towards the hall. Skidding around the corner, your suspicions are confirmed by the sight of Jongdae, stumbling in from the rain.

He's limping, this is the first thing you notice – the second, is that he’s not alone. Jongdae struggles, heaving forward with a half-conscious woman’s arms slung over his neck. Kimmy, you realize, as Jongin runs up behind you. Her hair is dark, wet while she sputters angrily against the rain. Lifting a wrist, she dries herself with a limp, angry flick of her finger.

“Kimmy,” Jongin gasps, nearly bowling you over in his haste to get to her.

You yelp, carreing sideways into Jongdae, who awkwardly catches you before sinking into the wall. Jongin doesn’t seem to notice, too busy transferring Kimmy’s weight to his own. When you realize you’re crushing Jongdae, you move – only for your stomach to sink, taking in his appearance.

“What happened?” you gasp.

“Y/N,” Jongdae breathes, chest rising and falling. His eyes are rimmed red, a purplish bruise blossomed on the side of his neck. “The rescue was more difficult than we imagined.”

“How?” you whisper, frozen in place. “What do you mean?”

“Kimmy wasn’t alone,” Jongdae informs – and with a sinking feeling, you realize who’s absent.

“Yixing.” As though plunged into ice, you stumble away. “Where is Yixing, Jongdae?”

Almost on cue, he appears in the door. “Present,” Yixing mutters, hair plastered to his face. His voice is strained, the reason apparent when you notice him pulling a man in from the yard. The man is unfamiliar to you – face pale, hair askew and dark, like Yixing’s.

While you stare at the two of them, Yixing drops the man to the floor – his own legs wobbily follow, one knee striking after the next. It’s a strange sight, to be sure – Yixing kneeling before a stranger, as cold, dark rain falls from beyond.

Jongdae clears his throat and when you look at him, you recognize some of his color has returned. “Yixing is fine,” he assures, pushing hair back from his face. “I’ll be fine, too, once I’ve rested. The trip became complicated when we realized Kimmy was not alone in her cell.”

“Not alone?” Jongin demands, voice overly loud. He stares at the man, long limbs sprawled before Yixing, as comprehension dawns. The man was being held with Kimmy, which implies –

“Nephilim,” you whisper, still staring. “But who is he?”

“That,” Yixing groans, looking up from the ground. “Is exactly what we intend to find out.”

[Master List]

Author’s Note: Hello, new addition to the Guardian/Ascension world :) This chapter got away from me. LOL

#noonanet #kwriterskollection #kpoptrashtag #baekhyun #jongdae #exo #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun au #jongdae au #jongdae fanfiction #exo fanfiction #exo au #baekhyun supernatural #jongdae supernatural #exo supernatural

[creativemorningsdublin-blog]

Meet our musician: shiv

Meet our Musician: shiv

For February’s CreativeMornings event we are joined by shiv as our musical guest. 

shiv is a Zimbabwean/Irish musician based in Dublin. Having established herself as a house DJ, she turned her attention to where her passion truly lay in song-writing. 

Her music, though simple in its musicality, envelops you in her world. She uses her unique blend of R&B and Lo-fi Hip-Hop with elements of Soul and Neo-Soul to create music that is emotive and brimming with feeling. Shiv’s silky-sweet voice wraps you in a hug that carries her soulful lyrics and brings them to life over the warm, hazy instrumentals. 

Our music co-ordinator, Molly, sat down with shiv to ask her about all things music and creativity.

How did you transition to being a full time musician?

In a weird way, Covid definitely made that happen. Music has always been in my life but to be actually doing it full time with nothing else going on is great. This is my primary focus right now. Before Covid, I was working in a restaurant alongside doing music and when restaurants closed down and the Covid payment was instated, I had to rethink what I was doing. So, it really threw me into music. I was DJing for a little while before all of that because I didn’t really think of singing as a career path, necessarily. I felt like it was a one in a million kind of thing where only a few people are chosen and you have to be chosen by a major label. The old industry model. I thought DJing was a great way to express myself musically without necessarily being a musician or a singer but music was always part of my life.  

When my sister was getting married and I was the maid of honour, I was meant to write her a speech but I just don't like public speaking. I don’t really enjoy speaking in front of more than about 5 people. It's too much. So I decided I would write her a song instead. I put that song up on YouTube and my managers at the time saw it and suggested that I consider doing this as a career. Then I just went from there, slowly but surely building things up right and learning more about production and how to put everything together.  And yeah, I guess that sort of brings us up to now.

Do you use that song that you wrote for your sister’s wedding in your set?

No, I don't use it. It was the very first song I wrote so I thought about putting it out, but I ended up going in a different direction. 

A lot of creatives find that their confidence fluctuates, as a byproduct of their creativity and their values being such a huge part of their work. Do you feel in a good place with your confidence?

Yeah! Before releasing my EP I was definitely in that turtle mode. It’s the pressure of knowing people are looking at you and that people have expectations of you. That was really hard to swallow I guess, and even though at the time I don't think many people were looking at me or are looking at me currently, it just really felt like they were. I felt like I had something to prove. So, at that time it was difficult but because the EP is about all of that stuff, that was my way of processing all of it. 

I do feel like that’s behind me though. I’ve come up with coping mechanisms and would like to think that I have a more internal locus of evaluation, to put a psychological spin on it! Obviously that's easier said than done though, you have to also be in a good frame of mind to be able to rationalise all of that.

So that was a big thing. Being able to just say ‘look, create for you. If you're happy with it, that’s the important thing and if anyone else likes it - amazing, obviously that’s such a bonus. But if not, whatever.’ You haven't lost anything by putting yourself out there, you know.

People need to like your music to spend money to see you perform those songs. So that’s definitely part of it. 

I think it's just about finding the right balance between being sure that you’re doing it for yourself and appreciating people who enjoy what you’re doing. 

Your EP ‘Me 2 Me’ gives off that vibe of sitting in the grass in the summertime. At the same time, the tone of the EP is driven by introspection and exploring the insecurities that you described earlier. Are there still narratives that arise around your creativity that you have to work on silencing? 

Yeah, definitely. The big one is comparison, thinking things like, ‘oh well, this person is doing this so I should be doing it like that too.’ But then it can just cripple you completely from even wanting to try. With the process of making music, another negative narrative might be judging what I’m doing as I’m doing it but the more that I just ease into it and just do it, I stop thinking. At the very least maybe you’ve finished something. If it’s not good then maybe it might inspire something else that you make later on.

So, I think they are the two big things. Trying to get to a place where I just have patience with myself. Showing up is half the battle really, just showing up and doing it. It doesn't matter what you come up with at the end of the day ‘cos it's gonna all build towards something good in the future. Sometimes it’s just about having the confidence to know that if you’ve done it before you can do it again. It’s in ya! It wasn't a fluke. Understanding that was a big thing. Patience and compassion for yourself.

We often hear creatives talk about how it’s so important to let yourself make bad work. It sounds like a lot of your creative process is just allowing yourself to sit with it and try things. 

Exactly, yeah. It's not that you're setting out with the intention of sitting down to specifically write a bad song. Even though I’ve heard Blindboy say that before on his podcast, he's advised people to sit down and write something bad. I've never done that personally, but if I'm going to write a song or going to do some work on music, I do like to set myself a time where I just sit for two hours and just see what happens in that time. It could be bad, it could be good or it could be something that you draw inspiration from for future projects and future work. 

You never know what subconsciously comes from those moments. You could look back at a Logic session and be like ‘oh my god, that’s where I got the idea for that little melody line.’

Was there anything that has surprised you about your creativity over the past year?

I don't know if anything surprised me, necessarily. Nothing's jumping out at me that I was like, whoa, I didn't know that. But I did have a realisation around discipline and how it’s just so important. If you're disciplined in every other area of your life and you have a routine set up, then it leaves space to be free with your creativity which is how it should be. 

I guess I did just realise how important discipline is and how important it is to do at least one creative thing a day, whether it’s a journal entry or a poem or drawing something. Also, making sure you go on some little adventure to the shop or for a walk because you end up soaking up things that you didn’t even realise, or making new connections that you wouldn’t have made before. 

It’s so easy to just be stuck in the house and stuck at your piano or your computer forcing yourself to create. The space outside of where you create is just as important, those experiences where your conscious mind is off and your subconscious is ready to pick up on those little bits and bobs, those moments are really valuable.

The theme for this month’s CreativeMornings event is Divergent. What comes up for you when you think about that word? 

At the moment I've been thinking a lot about the building racial situations and everything that’s been happening around that. I feel like being mixed race is a weird one because you don't really fit into either category. It’s like you’re too white to be black and too black to be white. So I definitely feel like that's such a divergence from the norm. That's how I'm finding myself at the moment, but not necessarily in a negative way. I’m just something different, I'm a diversion from what is the standard on either side of the spectrum. 

It can be really difficult to know when to include something so personal in your art, if ever. Especially with things that are so fresh. Do you keep those things in your life separate until you know how to approach them or do you tend to dive in? 

I think you definitely need to take time to process things a little bit, even though writing does help with processing. But sometimes when stuff is too raw, I don't feel like sharing it unless it's completely just something I'm writing for me, but even just seeing it on a page sometimes is too much. 

I have been writing about it. I feel like I have a lot to say about it at the moment so it is coming through. But you do need to figure out what you want to say and how exactly you feel about it before you can really put pen to paper and make a song out of it. 

Your music currently sits in that soothing R&B, summers day soulful genre. If you could click your fingers and jump into another genre for a day, which one would you gravitate towards? 

That's an interesting question. I wouldn’t deviate too far from R&B and soul. I think I would happily be a rapper or a jazz musician, if I could do that. Then I’d love to be a house musician as well because I did DJ for a while and I loved it. Sorry, that’s three!

DJing must have been so fun. Was that your full time gig?

No, I was doing it on the side. I used to do two nights a week. I had a residency in Berlin Bar on Dame Street. DJing was fun, it was a nice way to make money and it was just a good buzz but when I needed to take the next step to make it a bit more regular, I couldn’t really find the motivation to do that. That’s when I knew it was just a hobby, you know. I was thinking, ‘oh maybe I could do this full time,’ but then I don’t think I could be excited to DJ full time. It’s definitely fun though, I do miss it. 

Your visuals are such a well matched extension of your music. They portray that same warm and authentic sense of self that we hear when listening to your songs. Is there a particular way that you approach them or is it just about going with what feels good in the moment? 

In the beginning, I didn't have a budget or any support so it was all about getting friends on board and explaining what I had in my head. It was about saying, ‘let's just put something together and see what happens’. I didn't really put too much thought into any of them, especially because I don't come from a visual background at all. It's not my comfort zone, not one bit! So, I just wanted to put across whatever I could.

Moving forward, I would love to get a bit more professionally and creatively involved in the visual aspect because I feel like it's such an important part of the whole story of the music. I know it can engage a whole different audience, so I do think it's important. Possibly a little to my detriment, I haven’t put enough effort into the visuals, but I also feel like sometimes it is just about what feels right and fleshing out a basic idea that you have in your head. And like all aspects of creativity - it’s about getting started with an idea. Then more ideas just kind of flood in once you get the ball rolling, you know.

-- You can catch shiv on Spotify here.

#cmdivergent #creativemorningsdublin

[baekberrie]

F R E S H -bbh ♢6♢

High school AU, romance, comedy, fluff.

pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Previous - Next

"Ha Jin?"   You called questioningly, only silence following, letting your words linger in the air.

A sweet smile tugged on her red colored lips, she was a real beauty.

"That's right, it's been awhile, have you missed me?" She answered, the smile never leaving her face, almost as she was challenging you. As no one answered her question she scoffed lightly and looked down at her feet for a short moment. Her arms crossed against her chest, Ha Jin's gaze went to Minah's figure as she scanned her features, a judging look appearing in her eyes.

"And she? I guess she's my replacement?" She spat through her kind and sweet tone, as she nodded at Minah, who wasn't catching up with the conversation.

Baekhyun's hands balled into fists next to his sides, his eyes darkening with anger and irritation. You sighed and raised a brow at her.

"Replacement? You're right there. You are replaceable, but she compared to you, is not even a little bit replaceable." You fired in her direction, using her own word game against her. You watched her reaction with a feeling of satisfaction. The embarrassment and anger fumed out of her ears as she tried to stay calm at your diss.

"Tch." You muttered before eyeing both Minah and Baekhyun, signaling them a 'let's go.'

The three of you walked past her, she gritted her teeth, shooting daggers through her eyes into your back, with the most spiteful look on her face. So who was she? Ha Jin had been your and Baekhyun's childhood friend. She was. Though something happened, something that had made you suffer enough to take that big step, that led her away from your life. And so had Baekhyun.

You, Ha Jin and Baekhyun. It was something very clique, but sadly it was a love triangle. Baekhyun had been head over heels in love with Ha Jin. You couldn't blame him though. She had everything you didn't have. She was pretty, kind, slender, beautiful hair, eyes, everything. 

And you? You were head over heels for Baekhyun. That he had everything you wanted in a man wasn't new. Because that was so for every other girl that fell for him. Though he had always considered you a childhood friend. An important friend. While Ha Jin, she was the light of his day. And soon had become his biggest pain.

It was a given how much you had suffered through the years, watching him treat her differently, seeing how his laugh, smile, face, eyes were the brightest when he was with her. It had been one of your biggest pains. You couldn't really tell anyone about it. So you just suffocated these tormenting emotions inside of yourself, having them consume you. 

For Baekhyun's sake, you had decided to force yourself and stop loving him. You didn't want to ruin his happiness with a confession. Since he was happy with her, you also wanted to be happy for him. It was impossible though. You couldn't smile sincerely when he smiled with her. You couldn't just bring yourself to.

You had managed to not have any strong feelings for him, you had felt proud. It hadn't been easy, but your heart had then managed to stop throb at the thought of him. And you had returned to be his usual childhood friend, not the one-sided love. Still, though you remained by his side.

Baekhyun had really been a gentleman to Ha Jin, he treated her well, helped her, bought her things, and she accepted it all. Even though she didn't have feelings for him. And that's what made you furious, her accepting his love even though she didn't give any back. She took all of his deeds as friendly actions, while in Baekhyun's heart there were false hopes growing.

When he finally confessed it all fell apart. The puzzle got destroyed. Baekhyun's smile was nowhere to be seen. You had had a huge fight with Ha Jin, over Baekhyun. You hadn't been able to stop the rage flowing through you that time. All the strength you had put into stop liking him had gone to waste, because of her blindness.  Everything you had gone through before accepting the fact that he was happier around her. It had all been a waste.

You could still remember the two of you screaming at each other madly, the tears had that day been stinging in both of you, the beauty that had been ruined that day was nowhere to be reachable again. And it felt sincerely horrible, the way it had become. Though after that, you couldn't even bear to look at her, and she at you. Firstly she had felt ashamed, though that developed into anger and hate. And now you were like enemies.

The way she had hurt Baekhyun, she had hurt you too. It was like being shot in your weakest spot, having to see the most important person in your life, break down in tears in front of you. The smile you had fought for could not exist. Though everything was different now. The two of you had met Minah, and she had been and still was an amazing friend to both of you. She was always there for you, you could trust her, and she'd always make sure to approach you with a smile. Also, the attraction towards Baekhyun had finally faded away through the time, and it had been a few years, you should have expected them to return sooner or later.

But you were afraid. Accepting it once more had already been hard and complicated enough. You didn't want another relationship to collapse. It was frustrating that you couldn't even have a clue about Baekhyun's feelings, he treated you like he treated other girls, but at the same time not. He gave you nicknames like Babe or Baby girl, and it always made you melt on the inside, though you couldn't know if he did it because he had some sort attraction towards you, or if he was messing around. You wanted to know if he also stole glances at you when you weren't looking, but you couldn't know any of it, and it made you go insane. A soft touch on your shoulder made you wake up from your dazed state. You glanced at the person next to you and immediately your eyes met Baekhyun's concerned ones.

"Are you all right?" His voice was soft and soothing, you simply nodded in response.

"Are you?" You then asked, referring to the meeting with Ha Jin. He nodded, a little smile brightened up his face, replacing the past pain with genuine happiness to have you by his side.

"Yes, don't worry about it. By the way, how cool weren't you before? telling her off her like that. Man, I could smell the burnt." He said with a laugh following at the end of his sentence, making you chuckle as well. A bright smile danced on his lips, eyes as crescent moons, sparkling like a million diamonds, making it hard for you to look away.

"I had to, like how did she even dare?" You grimaced when remembering Ha Jin's words, making Minah chuckle.                                                      ***

As the day came to an end, Minah headed home before due to something urgent, while Baekhyun had insisted on dragging you to his place because he didn't want to be alone at home. Childish? Yes.

"Why do you always have to drag me with you, can't you drag Minah?" You whined making him scoff.

"Nope, Minah had something to do, remember? Plus if it would be only me and Minah you'd sure act jealous and ignore me for who knows how long." He said back, leaving you shaken for a moment.

"Wha-"  "I can't believe you just said that."

"Go home alone." You snifted, turning around to walk to the opposite direction. Immediately you heard his footsteps catching up from behind you. "No I'm kidding please don't!" He yelled after you, though you decided to not show any reaction yet, making him even more frustrated. His pace speeded up as he ran up to you.

A shiver ran through your body as you felt how his strong arms wrap themselves around your shoulders from behind. His hold tightening ever so slightly as you felt his head dip down into the crook of your neck. The breath got stuck inside of your throat, not daring to say anything as you felt his warm breath hit the back of your neck, his scent of aftershave embracing you invitingly.

"What if I don't want to drag Minah along... What if I want to spend some time with you? Can't I do that?"

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There you go angels <3 I hope you liked this update and that this story isn't a total failure lol .

#exo #exom #exok #bbh #baekhyun #byun baekhyun #exa imagines #exa imagine #exa scenario #exa scenarios #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun imagines #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun scenarios #exa fanfiction #exa fic #exo ff #baekhyun fan fiction #baekhyun fic #baek #baekhyun x reader #fresh #f r e s h #romance #fluff #Kpop fic #kpop #Kpop fanfiction #Kpop ff #chanyeol